INHUMAN⎯what about him was human to begin with?⎯speed caught his fist and snapped his wrist in half. Painfully stretching skin over fractured bone.
“Shit, that looks like it hurts doesn’t it!” Raucous HABIT roared with laughter. He pulled out the cruelest card from his sleeves. Natural talent, that guy! But not a darn thing was an unwitting mistake. No, Not the ‘slap on the knee’ sally and especially not the way HABIT handled Jeffer’s beanpole of an arm with a tenacious grip and at the mercy of Beef Cakes.
⎯And his truly of course!
“But, oh no.” He crooned, spreading a smile wide. Those pearly whites, my dear Watson, were the obvious foreshadow of the kind of shit that was about to hit the fan. “I have an idea of how much⎯I mean, you just tried to punch me, Jeff. Whether that’s smart or just plain Jane fuckin’ stupid is up to me.” He demeaned with a gentle chide, wagging that patronizing finger. “Well, more like for me to know n’ for you to find out.”
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Nothing resonated more. Except the beast masquerading as man had knack for kicking it from zero to sixty in a blink.
For every eye, HABIT took two and their mothers. For every tooth, he ripped out all thirty-two with pliers. For every fist, he broke their wrists and then some ; popping his elbow inverse as he escalated to his shoulder and teased his joint with a gentle squeeze between two fingers that could puncture into a skull like cake.
“There’s nothing more you can take…. Reciting pick-up lines from our old date, Jeffery? Growin’ a tad bit stale on the comebacks too…if you could even call them one! Ah. No. Your comebacks are as weak as yer arm. Like this.” Light childlike delight to his tone and a crunch filled his ears as he crushed the joint like dust between his thumb and finger. “How ya likin’ our new date? ‘Cuz I’m havin’ a crushin’ good ol’ time!”
At this moment, nothing could possibly resonate more with Jeffrey’s sheer level of utter powerlessness than the word, P R E Y . Prey, desperately writhing beneath the blackened claw of the predator. Despising the very thought of someone — something — else having such absolute power over him, unable to resist all the same. Instinct had replaced the logical thoughts that ran through his head so often, impulsively clenching his hand into a trembling fist. Swinging it towards his attacker with all his might — or, as HABIT himself had explained : trying to get footing ; trying to get L E V E R A G E in the situation. Trying to make him think. Trying, likely out of naivety or some childish hope that he’d somehow feel any kind of pain. remorse.
- — Rigid. He’s fucking rigid as the impossible speed captures his wrist — but should it really come as such a surprise ? & — then it comes in a heartbeat. The sickening sound of his own wrist CAVING & CRACKING under the immense pressure — GOD, it’s FUCKING AGONIZING & he can’t make it STOP ! His vision is tinted red, agony threatening to sever his consciousness. But he knows, oh fuck does he already know from EXPERIENCE that HABIT won’t let that happen. The aching pain sees no end. HABIT’s grip is simply unrelenting, & sounds of shock & straining force their way out, but he’s determined to show as little weakness as possible, however pathetic & ridiculous the very concept is at the moment. - Especially when the predator’s claw escalates, panic washing over Jeff with the TORTUROUS ambiguity of when & where he would strike.
HABIT’s words can barely register but they worsen the pain all the same. All he hears is his own heartbeat pulsating loudly, painfully in his chest & ears, the pain somehow deafening him, disallowing him to focus on anything else. The seconds that follow are unbearable. AS IF HE HASN’T DONE ENOUGH TO PUNISH A SINGLE ACT OF DEFIANCE ! Rendering his entire arm practically useless, unimaginably painful to even move, as he instinctively attempts to pull away. His free arm using all its might to shove him away, escape his grasp. Strangled screams are torn from his throat, spilling into the air, much like the tears he was trying so desperately to restrain. He doesn’t want to feel anything anymore, the only thought that goes through his head in the intervals between every nerve in his body screaming at him was the repeated voice of MAKE EVERYTHING FUCKING STOP. The other’s demeaning sarcasm & mockery only encourages it.
“ PLEASE stop , ” he can’t exactly tell whether it came out as a desperate scream or a soft, passive plea. “I’m BEGGING you, please fucking STOP ! ” Tragic, how tragic it is that he is entirely unable to stop it all. Reduced to a writhing rabbit. Truly fitting in a most grotesque fashion.
Anything he could think of to make the other just HEAR something would spill from his mouth, “I’M SORRY ! I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do it again !” The air in his lungs, limited due to his inability to muffle the tears he continued to choke, is spent entirely on the words that wouldn’t fucking get through to HABIT.
But then — then, he thinks of EVAN. Evan, whose state isn’t clear in the slightest. Do enlighten him, as he wonders throughout the ordeal : is he aware of what HABIT is doing as he uses his body like a human suit ? Or is he forced out, only beginning to remember what HIS BODY has done when HABIT releases his grip on him for a while ? He wants to get through to him. He wants to see him again, he wants Evan to MAKE IT ALL BETTER . . . It’s a ridiculous thought that isn’t worth trying, but he’s going to attempt to reach for him regardless. “Evan, I- know you’re still there,” pausing between words to gasp for oxygen, a rare opportunity at the moment, unrelenting. “Please listen to me, I want you back. Please fucking come back!”
Evan. when will it all just fucking stop ? !
