Breaking Benjamin (NSFW, 18+)

He startles violently at the noise, gasping and struggling against his bonds again, before he can force himself still. He's still breathing fast, knocked right out of any afterglow he might have had.

Is... is she leaving him alone again?

 

"Son of a bitch-" She jumps from the table, grabbing her phone from her pocket. "....yes. Hello. Yes. ...coding... are you kidding... fuck. Okay. Fine. I'll be there in ten."

She shoves the phone into her pocket. "I'll be back soon-"

 

There's a low, death-rattle of a noise nearby, from... from the body? On the table-

 

Ben jerks his head around to look, eyes wide. He can only really see the body if he raises his head awkwardly, but... Oh, fuck. Fuck. Is it really dead?

He stares, trying to grope for that feeling of otherness that he feels when the woman touches him. He's never done this intentionally before, but... Is he... is it like her? Is this what she really looks like?

 

"...Sep?" The woman freezes, dropping her coat. "No, no, no, stay still, stay still, I've got you here, just hang in, just awhile, I'll be back, I promise."

She hurries over, brushing a dried clump of hair from its' face. "Just you wait awhile, I promise I have this under control. I'll make everything work-"

 

The body rustles and groans. "....ica.."

 

"Sssh, sssh, hush, I've got you... yes. Hold on..." She twists, runs over to grab a jar and bring it over. "Here, Sep. For you-"

 

It's almost more terrifying to see her losing her cool, given everything. At least if someone's in control, things are... a little more predictable. Still terrifying, but predictable. But if even she doesn't know what she's doing...

He swallows hard, trying to keep as quiet and still as he can. Is she... is she feeding a ghost to a zombie?

Is that what she has planned for him?

 

"Sssh, sssh, darling, hush..." She whispers, twisting the jar open.

She thrusts her hand inside, grimacing as the ghost tries to flee.

Benjamin catches sight of those fishhooks again, and this time they're keeping it from escaping as she shoves the jar to one side, fishhooks sunk deep into etheric skin. "No, you aren't going anywhere," she growls. "Dead or Alive, you're done."

She flicks her wrist, then slowly starts winding the ghost closer, reaching out with her other hand. "...open wide, Sep, come on, you need your strength. I'll try to bring something better home tonight, I promise."

 

Ben whimpers softly as those dead jaws open inhumanly wide, insubstantial fluid leaking down the zombie's lips as it bites down. The ghost reaches out toward Ben with a caricature of a hand, and pleading eyes, before the woman forces it down into the zombie's mouth, as if it's an overstuffed suitcase. He can hear the zombie chewing, messily, hungrily slurping it down like tomato soup.

Fuck. Fuck him. How did he ever relax, even for half a second?

 

She gently wipes his mouth clean, the movement tender and loving. "...it will be fine soon, I promise. I think I've nearly got that little bitch that did this to you cornered."

She presses a kiss to the husk's forehead. "And then that little cunt will pay for what she did to you."

She turns, grabbing her coat, hesitates, grabbing a rag from her pocket and pausing with it raised to her face.

For a moment, she looks... vulnerable, eyes a little too big, just a little watery. "....I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Halverson. I'll be back as soon as I can be. Hold on a little longer, I'll bring you something to eat when I return." Her voice comes out a little tight and strained.

 

He nods shakily, eyes still wide. Food is the last thing on his mind after... that.

He swallows after she leaves and the door closes, hesitating. "Can... can you talk?"

 

There's a raspy hiss of breath, and...

The body shudders, and a face looks out from inside it, a man, handsome - but... there's something... wrong...

Then the body starts to seize and spasm, stopping only when the face vanishes back under its skin.

 

It's like... the drowned face inside of the woman. Like they are the same kind of... thing. Ben stares, trying not to panic. "... right," he breathes, chewing on his lip. "... I... I guess we wait, huh."

He can't help but notice that while he's tied up, he's not at all sure the hungry zombie is.

After a few hours, the strain of staying up for the last three days takes its toll anyway, and he falls into a fitful doze.

 

There's a delicious smell in the air when he stirs again.

 

It takes a few moments for him to fully awaken, blinking blearily. Then he feels the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, as he tries to roll over, and he remembers, looking around warily.

 

The woman is settled at the table with its array of implements, with a bag set next to her and more jars pushed onto the shelves.

She's quiet, this time, head resting on the table... asleep?

 

His stomach rumbles loudly. He hasn't eaten in... at least a day, now. Maybe two. He had lunch yesterday, didn't he?

There's nothing he can do about that until she wakes up, and given past history, he's not sure if he wants that to be sooner or later.

 

There's no way to know how much time passes before the woman yawns and rubs at her eyes, stirring slowly. "...mmgh... hell."

She blearily stares at her phone. "...what a pain..."

 

Benjamin has almost dozed off again by the time she stirs. He blinks hard, looking up at her. What, is it... Is it feeding time for the zombie again?

He knows better than to ask; he suspects it would annoy, not amuse her, right now.

There are, uh. Other matters, though, coming to his attention.

"... Um. Ma'am? ... Mistress?" he tries, trying awkwardly to placate her.