Wasting a good body

12-Why do I always end up here?

Why do I always end up writing torture scenes? Why am I so interested in them? Obviously I would never dream it on my worst enemy...but yet I always end up here? Why?

Mark was just ripping the blade down the boys arm, adding to the large amounts of scars Jack already had. It made the boy cry harder, begging for it to stop. He was covered in small slices everywhere, somewhere old enough to not bleed where others where new and still seeped blood. His skin was drenched in the crimson liquid. Strangely, it didn't feel foreign to him. It was probably from his own scars. He had small flashbacks to when he was a teenager, with a small blade in his hand in his bathroom, crying.

Perhaps his old life was just as miserable as this one.

Mark was to in his own little world of hurt to notice the few cop cars that pulled up nearby the broken wall. Jack's eyes glanced to look at them, seeing they had no light's on, as not to alert the murderer.

Mark was just about to trace Jack's line of sight when his victim spoke again.

" Mark look at me" Jack whimpered, trying to distract him from the officers who where now approaching with their guns drawn.

Mark's lustful glare looked down to Jack an unsettling smile on his face. He only had to be distracted by his prey's ocean eyes in order for a male to jump him.

Mark was ripped off his Jack with a headlock, dropping his knife instantly. It clattered to the cement floor next to Jack with a loud noise. It made him jump, but nothing could rip his eyes away from Mark as he struggled against two male officers. Jack saw that one of them was the same one who had been suspicious of them at the house. He watched as he was restrained with cuffs over his hands.

It's his turn to know how it feels.

" Do you have any major injuries?" The female officer asked in a caring tone as she knelt down next him.

Jack looked up to see that it was also the same women that had visited the house. She seemed just as calm and warm as she was last time. He was so glad to see her smile again, even if it seemed fake.

" No" Jack whimpered out, as he pulled at the rope.

The officer quickly fiddled with the binds and got Jack free, helping him up. Another person brought them a blanket of which was wrapped around his shaking figure.

" We thought you two were accomplices" She spoke, helping him to sit in the open doorway of a police car. " You two seemed to be together at the house".

Jack shook his head, tears pricking at his eyes as he watched Mark being loaded into the back of a car. Mark smiled as Jack, sending him the same glare that he always did.

" No" Jack started. " I'm pretty sure he kidnapped me".

The women was confused by his words.

" Pretty sure?".

" I don't remember anything, not even my name".

" Well Sean Mcloughlin, you're free now".

Jack nodded, his eyes following the police car that Mark sat in. It felt wrong to let him leave, it was all he really knew or remembered. Did he even want to be free? Perhaps it was better than being dead...but then again...was it really?

Over the next three days Mark was on his way to the courtroom where he would be trailed for his crimes. He intended to confess to everything, even the things he had done that the police knew nothing of. He knew what he had done, there was no reason to deny it. He was plead guilty, because that's what he was.

Jack had been put up in temporary accommodation where he was set up in a small household where he would be safe until they found his loved ones or family.

This is where he felt most damaged. He felt like a child who didn't know what to do. He couldn't go one day without thinking about what Mark might have been doing, or rather, if they we're still near each other, what Mark would have wanted Jack to do. It was like an impulse that ran through his every thought, waking or not. As much as he hated it, it grounded him, reminded him that he was still alive and that pain confirms that.

It was one week later that the police were able to find Jack's parents. They lived not more than two hundred metres away from Mark's house, which would explain the proximately of where he was found, but not why he was found there. He had thought about why he was out in the snow, in such cold with little clothing on like an idiot. He must have been chasing something to go that far away from where he now knew to be his house.

Jack was delivered home personally by the town sheriff who found Jack's case to be the most interesting he had found in their small town. He assured that the boy would be okay an could go on with his normal life. He said it over and over again, like it was supposed to be some sort of reassurance, when it held the opposite effect for Jack. It made him feel uncertain, he had no knowledge of what his 'normal life' was, he simply couldn't remember it. The only memory that he held of the past was filled with fear and panic, the small glimpse of a man threatening him.

That was all he had to go on and that fact alone made him nervous.

" You'll be back home in no time " The sheriff spoke, his southern accent leaking into his words.

Jack internally sighed at the over-used sentence. He propped his elbow up on the car door, with the window rolled down to let his elbow poke out of the car. He didn't look over to the man, contemplating whether of not it would be too rude to ignore him or not. He gave into his polite side, smiling and nodding softly as a response.

" What was it like?" The man asked, his voice low, as if he was talking about a secret.

Instantly Jack's throat closed up and went dry. His breathing became slightly laboured, although he didn't think that it would be noticeable to someone on the outside.

" You don't appreciate your ability to be free until it is taken away" Jack told the man, his tone letting him know that this is where the conversation was going to end.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Jack focused only on the buildings and trees as they rushed by, seeing the familiar structures he had see while with Mark. It had taken them days to reach a few towns over, when in reality it would have been a four hour car ride if Mark didn't stop in each town to stay the night.

He watched as the edges of forest came closer and eventually surrounded the vehicle, the woods got thicker and thicker as they went deeper into the uncharted, now riding on dirt roads. Stones and dust flicked up the wheels and hit the car, causing the atmosphere to be filled with small tink noises. Not that either of them minded.

The Sheriff stopped the car, declaring that Jack was finally home.

The boy got out of the car and only got two steps up the pebbled white driveway before he was engulfed in a running hug. The strong scent of perfume and conditioner flooded his lungs as a crying old women held him in her arms.

"Sean sweetie, I've bee worried sick" She cried into his shoulder.

The boy's heart broke as he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around the slightly smaller girl.

So his name was Sean after all, not Jack.
" They told us about what happened, how could someone do that to a seventeen year old?" She questioned, obviously not expecting an answer.

Sean looked up to the large two story house that stood in front of him, a man stood near the doorway. A thankful smile on his face as he wiped a genuine tear away.

However the Irishmen didn't feel the same way about his arrival that this man did. The boy was terrified. Those who eyes that were looking at him so fondly were the same cold and hateful ones he had seen in his only memory.

It was then, when his blood ran cold that Sean realised.

He wasn't out in the cold because he was looking someone, but because someone was chasing him. He wasn't wandering, he was running.

And he knew that he would have to do the same thing again and this time Mark wasn't here to pick him out of the snow.