31 Days Of Dazai

adrenaline

Shuji had remained quiet and compliant throughout the day, he spoke not a word to the man who skulked through their luxury apartment, skirting out of his way and securely minding himself and himself alone.

This, of course, was not enough to quell the mans growing rage, nor avoid it.

Shuji had been sat on the couch, book in hand, reading silently, completely out of the way of the boss when the old man suddenly turned on him. As soon as Shuji felt the mans gaze on him, his body locked up and he felt clammy, eyes remaining fixed on his book but with the added impulse to attempt to peer back at the man, to keep an eye on the lingering predator that had its sights on him.

The man thundered towards him, movements sudden but far from unexpected, Shuji remained staring at the book, fighting to avoid acknowledge his quick approach.

His fingers quivered, rightfully so. It didn't mean he felt any less cowardly.

The mans spindly fingers locked around his wrist and yanked him forward, stumbling off the couch, knee hitting to floorboards with a dull thud, Shuji felt No Longer Human nullify the mans ability as he dragged him forward.

Shuji barely managed to glance backwards to see his book discarded on the floor, his page now lost.

They were in the kitchen, and the moment Shuji realized what was about to happen, his stomach plummeted.

Stumbling, feet fumbling on the smooth tiles, the man bodily checked Shuji into the side of the stove, pain ringing through his body as he attempted to curl away, to make himself as small as possible. Perhaps if he saw how pathetic this mutt was he'd leave him be to wallow in his own misery?

This proved not to be the case as the man turned the stove to full, the flat glass top slowly turning red with heat.

The grip on his arm tightened, and the adrenaline thrumming through his veins gave him strength and desperation he usually held no claim to.

Shuji threw himself backwards with all his might, trying to use the force of his fall and the surprise his sudden rebellion would no doubt bring about to break the mans hold, but he managed no such thing.

While Shuji dis partially hit the ground, the bosses grip never loosened for a moment, so no matter his struggling and yanking, he couldn't escape the hold.

A hand wound itself into his hair and pulled him up, scalp burning as his torso was forced to lean over the now red hot element.

Shuji's entire body shook with fear and anticipation as his face was held just above the element, ready to be slammed down and burned, mutilated in a most obvious was, but the man did no such thing. He screamed garbled nonsense into his ear, phrases and topic that made little sense in any context at all. He yanked his head back up for a moment before slamming it back down, still not quite touching the element but the heat that emanated from it burned his face and made his eye dry up.

The man was out of his mind, even more so than usual he seemed, his words and behaviour manic, movement jerky and senseless.

Shuji's legs just barely kept him upright, knees knocking against one another and thighs quivering, the only thing keeping him from collapsing was the knowledge that if he did his face would make contact with the stove, the very thing he deeply desired to avoid.

The old mans hand released his hair and his head shot backward with a broken gasp. The relief was short lived, however, as the man pulled his wrist up before pressing it directly onto the element.

The pain was bright and searing, at for a moment his sight ran white as his throat closed and lungs squeezed.

The smell of ones own burning flesh is unique, a memorable experience in the fact that it smells so similar to regularly cooking meat. Slightly porky, or maybe a venison like smell? It's hard to describe, but it smells so normal, average, like unseasoned meat being fried.

The flesh and meats were the only part of the human body that smell anything close to appetizing while being burnt. Hair had the worst smell.

Shuji attempted to pull back, to wriggle free and escape the man and the burning pain, but nothing worked, no matter how erratic and violent his movements were, the man remained steadfast in inflicting the violence, because the man couldn't burn him through his ability so he found other means.

His hand sizzles and popped, and while Shuji couldn't hear it, because in that moment he couldn't hear anything, he hadn't a doubt in his mind that he was screaming.

Crackling and smoldering, the man finally released his wrist, and Shuji yanked his hand back hard, the skin of his hand having melted to the stovetop now tearing, leaving his hand drawn and burned, lacking much of the skin of his palm and fingers.

He crashed to the floor, hand pulled tight against his chest despite the pain that caused, the instinctive desire to cradle the wound and shield it from threat overwhelming him, body going fetal as he breathed deep, choked gasps.

He felt the mans presence stood above him for a while more, however he registered not a word that man screamed, to focused on the raw agony that shot through his hand, busting his nerves and bringing viscious shakes to his body.

It took a while, but after the suffering of the kitchen appliances and tools, many of which lay smash or thrown at his pathetic form, the man eventually skulked away, to find something else to do.

He lay in silent, the fragments of the broken microwave and ladles weight that lay atop his prone form almost a strange comfort to the boy.

He was alone, and eventually, the adrenaline that had pumped through his body began to wear away, body going limp and breaths swallowing out, eyes fluttering closed as Shuji wondered if unconsciousness would take him into it's arms.

When a finger poked his shoulder, Shuji's entire body wound up tight, fight or flight bombarding his mind as his eyes shot open, completely rigid as he waited for violence to fill the air once more.

No such thing occurred, and instead the person slipped a hand between his chest and pulled up knees, slowly coaxing the wounded hand out.

The figure let out a soft, disappointed sigh, and at the sound of the man, Shuji's body relaxes once more.

What came from the doctors mouth was a mystery, however Shuji knew it was about safe to allow himself to crash, strength and energy sapped from his body, leaving him weak and limp, laying completely still and limp as he allowed the doctor fo pick him up without a fight. He knew that with Mori there, he could quell the bosses rage if he were to become agitated once more, and thus he would remain safe in his care.

The last he recalled was being laid atop his bed, hand cradled in the lap of the man as he began to delicately wash and disinfect it.

Shuji's sleep was dreamless, and he woke the next morning with a tightly bandage hand and note on his bedside table with cutesy doodles on it.