Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Can't look you in the eye

Screams echoed throughout the halls, gasping, and panicked, each one pouring out of a gaping, horrified mouth. Throat blooded and scraped raw, shrieks of pain filled fear howled unapologetically loud; small frame trembling, teeth audibly chattering together from the violent twitching. Thin, frail legs kicked out, banging fruitlessly against a large chest, head thrashing from side to side, spraying droplets of hot salty tears across the dark room. Eyes clenched shut, squeezed impossibly tight, heart pounding like a jackhammer.

A large hand reached out, thick digits splaying over the span of his face, nails digging into the hot flesh of his cheeks slightly, gripping harshly as they titled him to one side, exposing his fluttering pulse. Grunting, the larger figure adjusted themselves, pushing down the tiny, flailing limbs and anchoring them to the cold floor with a well-positioned shove of the knees. Tutting, it huffed on annoyance, words oozing with exasperation.

"Really? We have to do it like this every time?" A click of the tongue and a fidget in stance as the body started bucking uncontrollably, "If you didn't insist on pulling a strop like this, it would have been over by now."

Apparently unconcerned with the larger frames plight, the thrashing became more frenzied, dry croaking cries vibrating from their chest, wailing louder and louder, the side of their face being forced against the tile, lips curling up in despair.

Sighing heavily in disappointment, a needle was produced from their coat pocket, pressure hardening as they leaned closer, the sharp, pointed tip an inch away from its mark.

"Nononono! Please!" Squeaky and hoarse, their voice wobbled, "I'll be good- please don't- I don't like-"

Stuttered pleas for mercy ran silent, choked off in a fit of agony as the delicate flesh of their neck got pierced roughly, the plunger sinking down torturously slowly, thick black sludge entering his bloodstream with a burning ache.

"There we go." The words were purred, the owner grossly satisfied with their achievement, "Was that so bad?"

In one fell swoop, the needle was ripped out, crimson oozing sluggishly from the wound. Crackled gasps and harsh sobs rattled out of the victim's body, heaving hard.

Fingers carded themselves through thick, untameable brown locks, tangling in a way which was supposed to be comforting. A quiet shushing noise came out of the wickedly grinning mouth, mock patient and tender, "What are we ever going to do with you, Thomas? My sickly boy?"

Acid pushed up his throat, crawling desperately up his oesophagus, nausea coiling unpleasantly in his gut the longer he listened to the gentle cooing.

"Father, please-"

"You'll be strong one day; my perfect creation," Lips traced his hairline, a loving kiss placed on his brow, "My classic, stupid, Tom."

—
Lids fluttering rapidly, a dazed pair of black eyes cracked open an inch, glancing around unseeingly as white blinding lights burnt into the back of his retinas. Squeezing them back closed, a groan tumbled from his grimacing mouth, head tilting back in a half-hearted stretch. 

Smacking his lips, he glanced around warily, absorbing the minimal scenery. Walls washed a sterile hospital white, clean tiles spread across the floor, a screen of clear plastic separating him from the labelled exit, a neat line of circles ran across the middle, cut into the smooth surface to allow a flow of oxygen to enter the otherwise airtight room. Being mostly barren of any other accessories,  the only furniture in the small room being the cramped stretcher he had been laid flat upon. A single, soft pillow cradled the back of his skull- surprisingly comfortable, and unsurprisingly as white as the rest of the small room- an IV pole lurking close to his bedside, fluid bags empty and hanging limp.