Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_au, @ 2012-07-19 16:55:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | saint david, saint patrick |
Who: Evil!Patrick and Poor!Dewi
What: Just some torture and various, Part 3!
When: Three days after Patrick, Agatha and Gabriel first captured him
Where: Patrick's new and craptastic apartment
Warnings: Torture and yuck.
David was tied to a table, where he had been stretched out for days now. He had no shirt on, and his chest was a myriad of angry cuts and bruises. Patrick had even had a go at burning his side, which he had enjoyed, even if the smell was undesirable. Patrick had been sure that David would break at first. He had been sure that David would renounce his faith and join him, but the little devil just wouldn't budge. Not even when Patrick had tried to put his jaw back into place so he could talk more easily, and mostly failed.
Patrick was sitting to the side of the man who had once called him brother, eating pizza and taking long drinks of water in full view of David. "I'll let you up if you join me," Patrick said again. He had been repeating it non-stop. Maybe he could annoy David into renouncing his faith. "Come on, Saint David. I know you have to be hungry. There's plenty of pizza here."
A soul for pizza? Patrick thought it was a fair trade.
David was mostly drifting mentally, not really hearing Patrick's taunting words. He'd gone without food and water before. That wasn't the issue. It just smelled so good.
"Fffuck offf," he said. It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. His tongue felt fat and useless in his mouth, and he kept his eyes closed so that he didn't have to watch Patrick.
David wasn't a martyr saint. He was a saint who had lived in a commune with other monks all his life, perfectly happy. Sure he'd lived by a restricted set of rules, but that didn't involved self-harm, or enduring harm from others.
Patrick stood up, walking over to David's side where he finished off the pizza inches from David's face. Then, to be an asshole because David wasn't watching, he licked the oil from it off of three of his fingers before wiping the last of it onto David's bleeding lips so he could taste what he was missing. "Make it easy on yourself, David," Patrick whispered. "You've endured enough to say you gave it your best shot, eh?"
David didn't have the energy to give more than a token movement away from Patrick's touch, but at least the oil gave a little relief to his cracked lips. He found himself licking his lips unconsciously, searching for some respite.
He opened his eyes a crack, fixing a steady gaze on Patrick's face. How he had once loved that man. "Kill mmme, or have done," he mumbled.
Patrick frowned at David and he picked up his glass of water, draining it in front of David's eyes. "I don't want to kill you, David!" he said, leaning forward to kiss David's cheek. "I want us to be brothers again!"
David's lips curled with contempt. "I will not stray from the Light," he said. His words were slurred and his voice cracked, but he stayed unwavering in his convictions. "You should not have surrendered if you wanted us to be brothers."
"Oh, David, why do you make me do this to you," Patrick said, fake sadness lacing his words. He put down his glass and he went to retrieve one of the pieces of wood from the pile next to the fireplace Patrick was pretty sure would explode if he actually built a fire in it.
He carried the wood back and then he placed it between David's ankles, which were tied to the large table anyway so he couldn't move. "My old friend Joseph, do you remember Joseph? Anyway, he showed me a movie once. It was called Misery and in the movie, this crazy bitch hobbles her favorute writer so he can't ever get away from her."
Patrick went up to stand over his brother again. "I am going to break both your ankles, David. And it's going to hurt more than anything else I've done to you. This is your last chance. Join me."
David couldn't help the hitch of fear in his chest, and he dry swallowed, rolling his eyes upward, silently crying out for his God to save him. This was a test, just another test, he could get through it and survive so long as he held steady in his faith. The Lord's Holy Light would hold him safe. He clenched his jaw resolutely, even though it ached like a bitch.
Patrick ran his fingers through David's hair when David refused to speak a word. "I'm sorry, David," he said, even though he wasn't.
The hammer he used had been in the apartment when he had decided to take it over. Perhaps there had been plans to knock out a wall to make the apartment nicer. Either way, just seeing it had given him the idea and now he hefted the thing into his arms. "I might not do this right. Here's hoping." And he swung the sledge hammer into Dewi's foot, breaking it at the ankle.
He didn't think it was possible to scream, not with his throat so dry and scratchy, but he managed it. His whole body went taut, back arching upwards in agony. The burning had hurt - a lot - and it still did, but it was nothing like bones shattering, puncturing muscle and flesh.
"No- please!" he gasped, his voice raw as he tried frantically to twist the ankle that didn't feel like a mash of pain out of its shackles.
Patrick rounded the table and he shook his head at David. "All you had to do was renounce God, David. All you had to do was join your brother and you didn't. So now you have to be punished. You brought it on yourself," and then he swung the hammer into the other ankle, even as David tried to squirm for freedom.
David gasped for breath, the pain of it making his head spin. Tears he could ill afford to lose trickled down the sides of his face into his hair, and his lips had split open again, the blood vivid against his pale face.
"I won't- I won't-" he sobbed, knowing he'd never get out of here alive now. His faith was all he had left to cling to.
Patrick moved up to David's side again, patting David's sweaty face. He didn't wipe the saint's tears. He liked them. "I'm not done, David." Patrick ran his fingers down David's arm to where his wrist was tied to the edge of the table. His hand hung over the edge and Patrick could easily break his wrist the way everything was positioned. It would be far more damaging than David's ankles. "How about I break every bone in your body. You're close. Just renounce. It's so easy. And it feels so good."
Three days of slow torture, cuts, burns, beatings- it was clear Patrick was growing either impatient or sadistic. David just wanted to die and be with God again.
He took a few shaky breaths to steady himself, then started to recite one of the few prayers he could still hold on to. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..."
Patrick was frustrated, but he tried his hardest to bring the hammer down with less force than he had used on David's ankles. He didn't want to splinter the man's arm right in half. He shattered David's wrist and went around to break his brother's other arm.
"Your fucking God isn't listening!" Patrick screamed, throwing the hammer to the floor. Then he grabbed a glass of water and threw it into David's face to keep him from passing out. "You are alone with me! If he was listening would he let this happen to you? He doesn't give a shit!"
David kept praying even through his cries. His whole body was on fire with pain, but he knew God would take him up into his arms. He turned his head to face Patrick, slowly and painfully, but looking him defiantly in the eye as he spoke. "As we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from Evil."
Patrick twisted his face in disgust and then he crawled up on top of David and he growled at his brother. "I am going to choke the life out of you, you worthless piece of shit. You won't be delivered. You'll die." And Patrick clasped his hands around David's neck and he squeezed tightly, sealing off David's air.
At least this was better than being clobbered to death. David pulled against his bindings, and his broken wrists slipped free of the ropes holding them down. His shoulders cracked loudly as he moved his arms down, reaching out to Patrick's face with useless hands. He didn't want to fight this. This had to end. Through the pounding in his head he managed to mouth the word, "forgive-" before unconsciousness overtook him. His body slowly relaxed as the life left it, vacant eyes staring into Patrick's.
Patrick growled as David mouthed the promise of forgiveness Patrick didn't want. David went limp, his hands falling away from Patrick's face, and Patrick stayed where he was for another several minutes, making damn sure David was not only dead, but staying that way.
When he was finished, he stared at the body of his brother. He felt nothing but annoyance that the saint hadn't joined him. He felt no regret or remorse or guilt.
And as he looked over David's corpse, another idea came to him. His eyes moved across the room and they rested on a saw which was leaning up against the wall.
"Don't lose your head, Saint David," Patrick said with a grin. "Big brother is about to get a present in the mail."