Breaking Benjamin (NSFW, 18+)

He cringes, looking away. "... for how long?"

 

"It's a work trip. A few days." She ties her hair back. "Yosef, love? I'll bring you more back... unless you want to come along? It's going to be a field trip, and none of my useless grunts will have any way of knowing you're there, darling..."

 

There's a pause, and then a pale mist slips free of the desiccated corpse, wrapping around her waist. The corpse keeps breathing, slow and rattling.

Ben stares, starting to hyperventilate again. Oh, god.

 

The woman smiles, running her fingers along the spirit and pressing her lips to its phantom face. "Mmmmh. Do you want to take something special, or one of the cheap grunts?"

She sashays to the wall, running her fingers along the jars. "I mean, they're all just as delicious, aren't they, love?"

 

It smiles back, pressing tight against her, spectral hand cupping her cheek. It looks like it's speaking, but Ben can't hear them. Looking at it is giving him a headache, as it seems to flicker in and out of being, glancing at him with a wide, toothy smile.

 

The woman giggles. "Mmmh. How about the mage, then?" She reaches up, carefully taking a jar from the shelf, hugging it close to her chest. "Mmmh. A nice snack for our trip, mhh?"

 

The ghost... thing... seems to laugh, and as it turns, Ben can see a glimpse of blood and ravaged organs. He cringes, sobbing softly.

 

The woman hums. "I'll see you in a few days, Halverson. Please mind your water intake."

She heads for the stairs, singing serenely.

"You and me
We're in this together now
None of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow
You and me
If the world should break in two
Until the very end of me
Until the very end of you"

She slips her hand into the smoke of the spirit, like she's twining her fingers with it, in it...

 

He gives a low, broken sob as she leaves, turning his head away from the stairs. "... fuck."

It takes until morning before he starts trying to escape his bonds, rubbing his wrists raw again.

It takes two days before he gives up hope.

She left him with no food, only the one bottle of water. He tried screaming for a little while, but it made his throat burn, and then his voice gave out again.

He's started to sleep most of the time. Every time he closes his eyes, the cold sinks into his bones, and he dreams of death.

 

He wakes, warm and comfortable, on a bed that feels like its' made of clouds. He feels full, his throat is no longer parched... and the entire backside of his body and his waist prickle with cold, like there's a million tiny needles of ice digging just under his skin. Lips pressed to the back of his neck, a fall of dark hair over his shoulder, breath against his skin...

 

For a few moments, Ben thinks he's dreaming again, that this is another dream about freezing to death in the cold. But it's just... it's just behind him, and his.. his arms aren't bound. He's not starving. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to sit up, before he realizes with a start that that's a person -- that's her behind him.

 

Her arms tighten around his waist, and he sees another set of eyes open, for a moment, a drowned woman watching him, pulling him closer with the other woman's arms. holding him tight.

 

He gives a broken little sob, barely audible, as destroyed as his voice is right now. Please, let go. Please.

 

The woman's hand sleepily makes its way up his body to cover his mouth. "Quiet. sleep."

 

Ben freezes, holding stock-still in that position. He stares at them, wide-eyed. He's not going to be able to sleep again.

 

She pulls him in, close, burying her face in his hair, posture possessive, body curling around him.

 

He keeps staring. He's guiltily grateful to wake up warm, fed, held, and he tries to cling to the sick feeling of discomfort and fear, because at least it's less confusing. Less awful. Somehow. He doesn't quite succeed.

 

She's.... actually pretty, when you're not terrified she's going to hurt you. Younger than you thought she would be - without the makeup, she looks like she might be younger than Ben. She looks... peaceful. Serene.

Like she wouldn't hurt a fly.

 

It's terrifying. It's a trap. He knows what she's like, that she's horrifying and insane, that she's tortured him for fun.

He can't help softening a little anyway. It makes panic flutter in his stomach, knowing it.

 

She sleeps an hour or so longer, then presses a sleepy kiss to his cheek. Her eyes are half-lidded, dark and sleepy, and she smiles slightly, tracing her fingers along his cheekbones. "Miss me?"