Chapter 22: Offerings

131 9 0
                                    

George did not open his eyes as he heard the front door unlock.

He laid on his side, body tired and mind battered by thoughts that he couldn't distinguish.

However, the sound of something being placed on the ground caught his attention.

Harold swiftly turned around, closing and locking the door with the old key, and placing it back inside his pocket.

"While I was out to... deliver my letter, I figured that I might as well get some things for ourselves."

The voice, all too familiar, made George roll around.

Three blankets, along with a couple of snacks and bottles of water were sitting in front of the staircase.

Harold grabbed one of the blankets and water bottles and slowly walked towards him, face blank of any emotion.

"I decided to spare you two for some time. I like hearing about all the panic, and I don't want it to end so soon."

A blanket was placed at George's side, and he merely looked at it.

"Oh, right! I almost forgot..."

Harold reached into his pocket again, pulling out a set of handcuffs, making sure to leave the key behind.

"You need at least one free hand to make use of these, "he stated as he placed the water bottle at his side.

George did not move as Harold stepped behind him, not even when he felt the rope around his hands fall to the ground.

Cold metal wrapped around his left wrist as the other end of the handcuff was closed around a cold radiator.

With his right hand free, George quickly took hod of the blanket, trying to as much of his body as he could.

"Huh, what? Too weak to even try fighting?"

George did not reply, and he hid his face in the black blanket as Harold got in front of him again.

"Here," Harold said, placing the water bottle within reach, "I'd think you need this by now."

Reluctantly, George moved his head out of the cover of the blanket and looked up at him, glaring.

"I... I k-know what you're t-trying to do..."

Harold was silent for a moment.

Then, he chuckled.

"Why, I'm just making sure you live. Are you that queer?"

"T-that's..." George groaned, "d-don't play games w-with me."

"I'm honest," Harold replied, holding up his hands, "in fact, I find that kind of sick actually."

"T-then w-why d-did you t-try to... t-to..."

George lowered his head back to the blanket, being forced to remember what had happened earlier.

Harold gazed at him, curious.

"You're that smart, huh?"

No reply.

George didn't want to reply.

Sighing, Harold turned and walked back to the pile of items, grabbing another blanket and water bottle.

"Now, if you excuse me, I have something else I need to do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ringo did not need to open his eyes to know who had stopped in front of him.

He did not care about the fact that his face was still wet with tears, and he especially did not care about what Harold thought.

However, when he felt a pair of hands reach around him and untie his hands, he opened his eyes.

"Here," Harold said, placing the red blanket in front of him.

Ringo was still for a moment, newly-freed hands resting at his sides.

In an instant, he slapped Harold's face, making him step back.

"Hey! I was just giving you something you need!"

The drummer did not reply, instead taking solace in the warmth the blanket brought. His breathing grew heavy as rage boiled within him.

Harold smirked.

"You know that your boyfriend agreed to spare you all of the pain, right?"

Confused, Ringo furrowed his brow.

"I'm not going to hurt you..."

Harold looked Ringo in the eyes.

"Not right now anyway..."

Ringo pressed his back against the wall, the chain around his waist holding him in his sitting position.

"But, I wouldn't worry about that," Harold continued, beginning to walk towards the basement steps.

"After all, I'll have to deal with him before I get the motivation to do that."

Ringo did not listen to what Harold said afterward, instead focusing on the water bottle, feeling his thirst rise.

Once he heard the basement door open and close, he reached toward it.

In a moment, he already had taken three gulps of the water before he stopped and closed it, setting it back on the ground.

Finally being shielded from the coldness, Ringo closed and breathed deeply, thankful that Harold left him alone this time.

He didn't even flinch in surprise when he heard his stomach rumble.


The Silenced DrummerWhere stories live. Discover now