Reclaim
locklann
Locklann had no perception of time. They could’ve been standing there mere seconds–opposite each other, Locklann waiting for Nissim to inflict whatever he would–or it could have been hours that they stood there. Locklann’s thoughts had become a chaos and in no way could he find a chronology in them anymore. And so time had become something vague, something for the people that lived in it, but not for those half on the outside, where day no longer meant awake and night no longer sleep, where weekdays no longer meant school, and Sundays not rest. Sometime, over the years of his life, it had all stopped making sense. Perhaps that’s what happened when you’d fallen through it a few times.
He blinked when he realised his eyes were hurting, but he never looked away. He was breathing, almost calmly, but there was enough elevation in his breathing to give away his fear. Nissim would notice. Nissim always noticed. There was a secret in the back of Locklann’s mind and he was trying to spin around it so Nissim wouldn’t read it in his eyes, while all too aware Nissim would find a way through every barrier Locklann would put up. And he was happy for it, because ultimately he wanted Nissim to find it and discipline him. Whatever it meant. However much it would hurt. Regardless of how unfair it would feel.
His hands had began to tremble, but he kept his arms outstretched as he waited. There was no hint of hesitation in his posture, even though he was fighting the instinct to run. He continued to look at Nissim, regardless of the pain and fear. And the weakness in his knees.
As Nissim closed in on him Locklann nearly flinched, but much of his motion was controlled by his determination. He’d just spent two weeks missing him. There was no way he’d run away.
His head moved back at feeling Nissim’s hand close around his throat. He sucked in a breath of air, wondering whether he was going to be allowed a second one, and a third. The grip wasn’t too tight yet, but that said very little of Nissim’s intentions. In fact, it foretold little good of what he might do next. Nissim was just waiting for it… waiting to detonate.
He was forced onto his toes, which tested his conscious further. He was already seeing stars, he was already weak, but that had never deterred Nissim. He’d do what he had to do, regardless of what marks it’d leave, or how far it’d push Locklann past his limits.
Locklann’s teeth gritted and for the first time his eyes quickly darted away, trying to find safety from the gaze Nissim held at him. Two brief seconds it took him to regain the courage to look back again, Nissim’s question unanswered with anything more. What had he done…? He could taste it, still, on his lips. He knew that was impossible, but apparently the water of the lake hadn’t been enough to eliminate the memory. Nor had the smoke of the cigarette worked any better.
Getting here, to this point, had been a long process. Nissim didn’t exactly remember what or when the first time had been, but he did remember how painfully long it had taken him. Not that he had never seen fear in Locklann’s eyes before that point, because he certainly had, but it just hadn’t looked like this. It hadn’t looked like terror, which--to Nissim--just meant that he wasn’t taking Nissim as seriously as he ought to. And Nissim had needed him to, because he wanted Locklann to know him better than anyone else had ever had. He needed to feel the terror of constantly being watched by Nissim, because Nissim knew it was necessary. If--when--Locklann’s last day on earth would finally come, Nissim needed him to be aware of it. He needed him to know he was going to die. No doubts. And Nissim needed him to accept it until he no longer could, until he would beg to be allowed to live just a little bit longer. Until the terror would become explosive and more beautiful than Nissim ever would have seen. Until the look in Locklann’s eyes--the one Nissim was seeing now--would simply disappear forever.
But--no matter how painfully tight his grip had suddenly become--that day would certainly not be today. Or anytime soon, for that matter, because Nissim would not kill anyone that wasn’t perfect and Locklann was currently very, very far from perfect.
“Answer me,” Nissim demanded. His voice was still calm, but he could feel he was driving himself towards explosion. He just needed a little bit more. One last chance. “What did you do?”












