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SNAP! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - fluff, angst - panic attack, trauma, flinching.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

There's a sudden knock on the door to your room, your body dry and freshly washed, the minty smell from the soap bar fills your nostrils whilst you slump on the hospital bed. Curled in a way that was uncomfortable but it wasn't hurting any wounds so that would have to do.

The knock is followed by the door opening wide, revealing a man who you recognise, a man named Logan. The cheery fellow bounces into the room, suddenly the dingy lights seem brighter. "how's my favourite girl?" the man smiles while trotting inside, then closing the door behind him. "The nurse told me t' not bother ya sooo here I am!" he announces, smirking when you peer up at him. Your permanent frown slightly moves upwards when you see the goofy yet devious grin on his face.

Without a reply he sits down on the wooden chair placed by your bed, "you're looking better! my wounds are barely healing!" you wonder what had happened to him for a moment but then you remember that one of the first times he snook into your room, he rambled on for almost an hour. Telling you that he had been shot whilst on a mission, twice in the stomach. Luckily he survived. He smiles as he stretches out his hand, groaning, "I'm glad you're okay," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

A sigh falls from his lips when you sit up, "saw some big beefy guy leave your room before," john, he's obviously talking about john. "Looked real pissed off." Logan mumbles under his breath when he looks to the side. Fucking twat, he was pissed off? He doesn't deserve to be pissed off. "Ya know him?" He looks towards you for an answer. But you two both knew you weren't going to verbally say anything. You nodded hesitantly.

"Ya friends?" the man questions, this time it wasn't so hesitant. "No." You firmly said. Logan thought this was the first time you had spoken to him, it clearly must've been a trigger or something, "he is NOT my friend." Reaffirming your statement, pure rage boils through you at even thinking about being his friend. He lost that fucking privilege. "huh."

There's a silence that lingers in the air. The wet droplets from your freshly washed hair drips down, sending shivers down through your body. "Well, at least you have people visiting. My family is too busy t' visit. Or they just divnt wanna." he mutters the last part, "id kill for anyone t' visit."

"You know you get a lot of people lining outa your door? I can barely get through mine cause these bulky men will always be there." What? You questioned internally. "Ya friends with them?" you probably knew who he was talking about, it was probably the other knobheads that harmed you. None of them had really spoken to you since you arrived, john would sit down on the chair that Logan was currently sitting on sometimes, you two wouldnt talk though. Youd rather kill yourself than utter a single word to him.

"none of them are my friends, " gruffly talking again. Your throat kinda hurt so the sounds came out raspier than you had wanted them to. "hmm! Anywho! You wanna play some cards with me? I knowww.... Snap?" Then he puts on a dumb little smile.

After rolling your eyes at him, you nod. Magically he pulls out a card deck. Placing them on the blanket covering you. Once splitting the deck into two and passes you a half. Logan puts a card down gently on the blanket, not wanting to put it down too hard and hurt you. He didn't quite know what had happened to you but by the looks of it it was bad. You had nurses in all the time, your body was wrapped in bandages and by the looks of it, you only had 8 fingers.

"6 of clubs!" he announces. You place down a random card, 4 of hearts.

After a few rounds, you had won. For him having a deck of cards and wanting to play snap, he wasn't that good at it. A small smirk rises on your face, looking down at your massive stack whilst he had no cards left. "Well, well done." He grumbles with a mocking pout.

Once nodding you give him half your cards and he whacks them across the bed. Scattering the cards around, you gasp. Laughing, he observes the stunned look on your face before you shuffle the cards and half them. Dividing them into two halves, again making sure you both have a half each.

The word snap was yelled out from Logan's lips as he finally got ahead of you and slammed his callosed hand downwards onto the 2 of diamonds. When you flinch, he felt the weight of his face drop. "fuck, I'm sorry-" the look on your face could only be described as panicked, scared and fearful.

Suddenly a loud ringing blinds your ears. Your breathing grows. You take sharp and quick breaths when he looks towards you. You don't know why you panicked so much over something so stupid but then again - you do. "oh god I'm sorry!"

Logan's heart sank as he watched you struggle to catch your breath. He quickly slid closer, his voice gentle, "Hey- fuck- it's okay. I'm right here." He hesitated, unsure whether to reach out physically, but instead whispered, "Just breathe with me, nice and slow," trying to guide you back to calmness. But unfortunately that didn't help. You flinch back once more and shuffle under the blanket. The sounds of the room grew louder, the beeping of the machines sound over Logan's - trying to be - comforting voice. Your breath caught up once more. Your breathing is loud and fast. "it's okay-"

He gets cut off when a nurse comes into the room. She quickly rushes to you and all you see is almost a blur when your eyes prick with water. Distant yelling and you see the obscured bodies rush into the room, the nurse beside you and mumbling nonsense as the blob you think is Logan leaves.

RIPPED APART '' driven by hate, consumed by fear ,,

➼ SYNOPSIS : tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

➼ PAIRINGS : john price x falsely accused reader x 141.

➼ WARNINGS : falsely accused reader au , angst , torture , betrayal.

➼ STATUS : ongoing.

PART ONE. TORTURE // angst.

PART TWO. TIME TRAVEL // angst.

PART THREE. SHOWER TIME // angst.

PART FOUR. SNAP! // fluff, angst.

PART FIVE. COGNITION // angst.

PART SIX. REUNITE // angst.

PART SEVEN. BLOOD. TEETH. GUTS. // angst.

PART EIGHT. SCENEARIOS // fluff.

MOODBOARD

SHOWER TIME ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ TAGS - angst - nightmare mention, hospital setting, scars, depression, neglect.

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After being taken to the infirmary, your body had uncontrollably decided to take a long sleep, your dreams full of the terrors your best friends had caused you. Your dreams reminisce on the before, on the time where everything was okay, the time where you had a friend group and your job was going well. But that had to end, didn't it?

Nothing good could ever happen to you.

Waking up, you don't even know how long you slept for, you discover your bandages on your body changed. Still bloody but they were fresh material, you were in new clothes - well clothes. Head goes dizzy when you look around the room, taking in everything you could see. The high white walls with no decoration, the window that you could look out from on your so-called bed, the cream curtains that hung but were swept to the side - bringing in bright light from the outdoors. The outdoors, something you hadn't seen in what, a month? You couldn't remember anymore. You felt disoriented, angry yet also sad. You felt every fucking emotion you didnt have time to feel during the attacks, all at once. Eyebrows squeezing together, looking to the side of your sheets, a small wooden chair was placed there. After gulping you peek at the table next to your bed, there was also a sink in the corner. Usual hospital room, tv and two doors, one leading out into the hallways and one to a bathroom. And that was that.

There was one thing that made your heart furious though, an arrangement of colourful flowers, wrapped in a light pink ribbon sat on the table beside you. Frowning as you peer at the beautiful petals you look away, they ruined you, ruined your body, your life and all they give you is fucking flowers? You knew it was one of them, you had not built that much of a relationship with anyone else and they were your favourite flowers. Only the 141 knew your favourites, cheap fucking way of saying sorry. You hadn't even heard the words come out from any of their mouths yet, fucking pathetic. enraged, angry, furious and irritated were only some of the words you were feeling.

Soon it had been a week, lay in that stupid fucking room. At Least you had met a few people, you met a few nurses who came by to feed you, check up on you and help your wounds. And you had met a patient in the room next to yours, he was sweet towards you, you never spoke to him though. He did most of the talking, his name was Logan and honestly in the week you had known him for - he was growing on you. He came by everyday, he was very nosy though, very extroverted. Luckily he never demanded answers from you, he always spoke, sometimes you would reply with a shrug or a small nod. You couldn't tell if he had heard about what happened to you though, he never touched you and he was always so gentle, dunno. Maybe he was just nice.

Scars were left all over your form, a healing cut on your cheek that wouldn't take that long to fix - just a very quick and painful stitch up!, your legs just starting to become responsive, rope marks dug in your skin from how tightly they displayed you on that cold pole.

Drugged up on antibiotics wasn't the best feeling, you had a few infected wounds down your body, the one on your lower womb was ugly. It looked diabolical, but luckily you were on many pills so life is okay! Looking down at your hands, the missing fingers was just another example of the pain the four caused you.

Just when you were about to spew tears from your tear ducts, a light shadow covered you. When did he come in?

Your captain sat on the wooden chair beside you, he didn't speak, just looked down at his raggy boots. You were glad he didn't speak, but deep down you kind of wanted him too because this was far too awkward. Glaring down at your lap, you refused to speak to him, just as you tried to turn around the door swings open. The nurse you were closest to walks in and sees the two of you. The obvious tension floods the air, flowing out the open door when Jane starts talking, “morning, honey” she smiles and takes slow steps up to you.

You dont reply.

“We need t’ get you into the shower” she mumbles to you, peeling off the sheets that covered your battered body. You were ashamed that the nurse had to physically get you up and take you to the shower but your legs just wouldn't cooperate with you. A twisted and healing ankle paired with weak legs and then on top of that the depression that comes along with all of this summed up too being unable to help yourself up. You couldn't do anything for yourself, they tore you limp by limp and now you weren't the strong soldier you were before. All thanks to them. “Okay” a light voice sounds from you through a sigh, almost whispering, not wanting that fucking man next to you get the pleasure of hearing your voice. Letting the nurse help you get out of the bed, Jane looks down at your form, your skin and your trauma.

“Healing well, hm? Did nurse poppy give you your pills this morning?” Jane asks, tilting your head up gently to take a look at the slight slit on your throat. When the man right next to you was about to end your life.

What is the saying? Each scar tells a story but every story leaves a car. Something like that.

Nodding at the nurse's question makes the corners of her lips twerk up into a small yet genuine smile, “good, now let's get you up, hm?” you could almost feel john's eyes burning into you while the nurse helps you get up, your weak limbs drop as you stand on your feet, jane instantly gripping you and jolting you back up, an arm wrapped around you to help you walk.

You were thankful for the nurses, obviously they knew what had happened and they were nothing but gentle and sweet with you, they never tried to do anything that would trigger you and knew to check up on you, make sure you were eating, drinking, sleeping and things like brushing your teeth and showering. You felt kind of useless. Not being able to do anything for yourself but it wasn't exactly your fault though was it?

Jane took you towards the bathroom and Price still just kind of sat there, in your hospital room - staring at your bed.

“You can do it yourself, yeah?” Jane helps you sit on the lip of the toilet seat, the bathroom was sterile and white. The smell of bleach attacked your nose, you looked at the shower. The shower head pours down water at a fast pace when the woman in front of you turns the knob around, you almost flinch at the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. “C'mon” she mumbles, taking your arm to help you limp into the shower, as soon as the water hits you - you flinch. Taking in an old memory, instantly you back up to the wall, “i-i can't” you shake, gulping down, staring at the dropping water splattering over the floor. Breath picking up as you breathe in harshly, “i cant - i cant” you repeat as if the nurse hadn't heard you, she quickly leans over to grab the sponge that was placed under the shower head, she places it in your hand, “its okay, honey, don't worry.” jane coos while you shake, “you don't gotta, just scrub yourself down outside the shower, you don't have t’ go in if you can't”

Thank god for this sweet woman. After nodding she leaves you to your own devices.

Taking a glance at the shower and then down at your sponge, you sigh. How could you let yourself become this pathetic. A panic scares you when you hear sounds coming from outside the bathroom door, a deep voice which was so obviously johns then a softer voice which you would only match it to janes.

“Is she okay?” Jane's ears picked up John's voice, still sitting on the wooden chair but he was facing the bathroom door. “You know they dont want you here” she states, walking past him to clean up your sheets.

“I needed to see them.” All Jane does is sigh, “they can't see you right now, i understand it's hard but it's harder for her” john looks down at his boots, in defeat. Closing his eyes and biting his tongue, this was hard for him - it was hard for everyone.

All of the 141 missed you, missed talking to you, seeing you and missed their relationship with you. No one knew how to go about the situation, nobody knew what to do. How to make it right, how to make it the same as before. They all just thought; they didn't know what else to do, they all thought it was you and the signs pointed to you.

The job is ugly, it's disgusting, that's what it is.but there's nothing they can do about it, it's all a part of the job.

TIME TRAVEL ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ TAGS - angst - torture, mockery, threats, drunk creeps, harassing, tension, blood.

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A quick yet cold splash to the face awoke you, you cough as your face splattered with freezing water, you jolt up and choke. “Mornin” a rough voice sounds from beside you. You peer over and see Johnny McTavish, “how’d you sleep, bonnie?” he mockingly sneers. “Fuck you” you spit at him, look down at the floor you had passed out on, the dried blood and the water spilled all over below you, you grip onto the floor and slowly look up, meeting your eyes with the door in the corner, you could see prices beefy build standing there on the other side of the bars that held you in this room. The gaps through the metal you could make out a stern yet upset face , one that you gotten used to when you had helped him ease his worries after a harsh mission, or when you had gotten hurt and he was dreadfully worried for you. You sometimes thought that maybe he was nicer and cared more about you than others but you know now that wasn't true - it couldn't be fucking true if this is how he treated you when one fucking person accused you of being the traitor.

Johnny glances over at price then his gaze arrives back at you, “divnt look at ‘im, look at me.” your eyes move down to the floor as you choke once more, a string of saliva drips from your mouth and platters onto the floor, your breath smelt like vomit, you scowl at the memories of last night. Prices fist clenches at the look of you, so so scared. Johnny's hand is brought to your jaw as he bends down, forcing you to look up at him, “are ye gunna talk?” Your continued silence was enough to make him wince. His fingers dug into your jaw, you whine at him and continue looking at him. Trying to make yourself seem the tiniest bit strong - even for one moment, but you knew he saw the nervous, scared look you had in your eyes. “It's not me!” you shout out, your eyes moving back to the spot where price has stood just moments before but he had vanished. You felt like you were almost hallucinating, between this and your dreams - your fucking stupid dreams - you felt like you were going insane. The only thing keeping you sane right now was the pure pain, it kept you realize that you were alive. Still fucking alive, living through all of this shit they are putting you through.

You spit on his face, the small collection of saliva in your mouth manages to spew out onto him, he scoffs at you before swiping it off. “Fucken hell, lass.” that mocking glare peers into you, a sense of danger swells into your heart. “Let.” you shout, “me.” your voice gets louder after each work, “out!” you scream, trying to push him away from you, his breath hot on your face while he forces you closer, almost cheek to cheek. “Keep fucken shoutin’ nd yer gunna lose yer tongue.” the man sighs onto your cheeks.

You shut up real fast, lips sealed and you glare at him, he steps up whilst realizing your jaw from his tight grip. Johnny stands above you and peers down at you. “Sit up” demanding whilst grabbing some pliers from his left pocket, he bends down - waiting for you to obey his command.

Your knees are weak as you fumble, trying your hardest to get up but as you see the pliers you instantly freeze, “wait wait wait!” you panic, trying to back up. Your mutilated hand gripping onto behind you to scoot away. “Awh bonnie, don't be scared” he chuckles, grabbing onto your hair once more, forcing you closer, shards of hair ripping out as he pulls you by the scalp. He drags your hair back so you're looking up into his eyes, one of his rough hands on your head whilst the other holds onto the tool. “Open up, lassy” Johnny's harsh smile pulls a deep concern deep into your heart.

If you felt like you were in danger before who knows what the fuck you were feeling now.

His soul scarring smirk as he tortures one of his best friend is un-fucking-godly. “I said open up.” his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you, the pliers spin around and he brings the handle to your lips, forcing them apart. Your jaw opened by force by the tool, johnny eyes meet with yours as your stomach sinks. “Keep it open, jus’ like tha’” you decide to comply - too scared for what he would do if you wouldn't, you held your mouth wide open, eyes squeezed closed to prepare yourself for what johnny was about to do. The tool brings close towards your mouth and it chips at your front teeth, a spark of your tooth hits the ground.

Your knees scrape against the floor as you unconsciously squirm away, he grips onto your scalp further, pulling your hair so you were kneeled in the position you were earlier. The pliers hit your tooth and create a clinking sound, the tool pulls onto it. Eyes squeezing together as the tooth pulls out and blood pools from the gum, “Aye” the man in front of you grunts and holds onto the tooth with his gimmick. Johnny's expression did not change as he ripped out your tooth, his smile plastered onto his face with a concentrated expression - simply watching his friend and past coworker pull teeth from the person he cared about. A trail of garnet lingering through your saliva and you spit out onto the floor - well, you try too but with Johnny holding your head back. The wetness trails down to your chin and down your neck, the blood mixing with your spit. You stayed silent as the pliers held up with your torn tooth. “Atta girl” he sneers once more and his hand detaches from your hair as his posture straightens up.

That night had started off easy but soon it turned into hours on torture, the one memory replayed in your mind as johnny harmed you, over and over. Trying so desperately to get information out of you but you obviously wouldn't - and couldn't - say anything. The memory you kept repeating was after a long mission. You and the rest of the taskforce decided to go out for a few drinks at the closest bar. Long story short - all of yous were pissed.

That night yous laughed around a small table and passed banter along to one another. You fumble over to the bar and bend over the counter, almost yelling over your thoughts running through your head. Then some fucking creep comes over and starts talking to you.

God, you felt his eyes trail your body as his hand moved down your arm, you flinch back and politely mutter, “oh uhm s-sorry but i have a..boyfriend.” you lie but he ignores your almost plea and he gets closer towards you, “c’monn… he doesn't haf t’ know” he slurs - clearly tipsy. You gulp and back up, looking over at your table to say if anyone was looking. But the table had one person missing, john. Eyebrows furrow and you back up slightly, only to be stopped by a large frame, before you could turn around you heard his booming voice, “he bothering you, sweeth’art?” the gross man in front of you eyes widens, he steps away from you. “N-no he's okay,” you mumble, looking up at the man behind you. His furious face was kinda hot, but you were too focused on how his rough hand moves to your waist. “No need f’ a fight, hm? Leave the bar and get yourself home,” John smiles.

Before the man could speak, John growls, “if I see you talking t’ my girl again, you'll get your tiny cock cut off.” a dangerous smile plastered on his face as the tipsy man trembles away from both of yous and eventually out the bar doors.

“You seriously okay?” he peers down at you, his hands still lingering on your skin. “Oh yeah!” you smile, turning around to look up at him, “thanks, you uhm- you didn't need t’” a layer of blush covers your cheeks and your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him. “Couldn't let that disgusting bastard touch you up like tha’” a distant shout from the table you were sitting at earlier interprets you and john's conversation, a scottish voice, “oi! Yous two quit flirtin’! Ye’are two drinks behind!!” another swarm of blush fills your cheeks and you two move back over to the table.

You wish time travel was invented, maybe you would travel to that bar on that night, or maybe you would travel to before you met them - start it all over or change choices in your life. Ones that wouldn't end in betrayal and your heart broken. The things you would give to rewind this all.

You gasp and reach out as John holds a dagger to your throat, “last chance” he dares - holding onto your jaw to hold you up whilst he knees behind you. His breath was hot on the back of your neck which in any other situation but this time it scared you. But after all he needed you to fear him. “We both know it's easier if you start talking, told you before. Last chance.” spitting at you and the dagger gently digs into your skin, creating a small slit. Your head leans back to try to get away from the pain but his strong grip on your jaw keeps you steady. The blade digging into you, almost too deep, “you have five seconds or i'm done with you.” after a few weeks you had finally given up.

“Five”

Your heart thumps, was he really going to do this?

“Four”

Trying to squirm away from him yet once more his grip grew stronger.

“Three”

John's hand tightened on the weapon he had in front of your throat.

“Two”

His voice grew deeper as the blade stings, drops of blood trails down your neck and onto your bare chest.

“One”

Two hearts beat in that room as you were about to have your throat slit but John hesitates.

Just as he went too, Kyle stomps into the room, “w-wait no stop!” the blade backs from your throat and the man backs up, “she-” Kyle breathes heavily - obviously trying to catch his breath. It was very clear he had just ran here. “She's not the traitor- w- was framed” Kyle's hands go down to his knees as his breathing slows down. You cough and hands fall to the floor as blood drops from the cut on your neck. Your face looks down at the floor and your hand reaches to your neck to stop the blood. John backs up and straightens himself out, staring down at the body before him trying to stop the blood.

“Oh.”

TORTURE ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ TAGS - angst - torture, cutting, 'betrayal', forced intoxication, passing out, threats.

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You could see in his eyes he didn't want to believe it but you could also see the hatred in his eyes, the betrayal and the anger.

He stood away from you, watching as ghost, who you had known as Simon, stood in front of you, a knife draped along your tear stained cheeks. Arms tugging at the ropes that held you up against a metal pipe centered in the room, your legs tied to the cold metal, the rope strangling your flesh, your skin around the rope glowing white as the blood slowly but surely stops flowing down to your ankles and arms. “Please” you sob, tears brimming your eyes, once again whilst his knife left your cheek. “I - it's not me!”

They don't reply as your cries fill out the room when ghost pushes the blade of the knife against your cheek, a slit quickly appearing. Crimson blood drops from the wound, the deep wound stings. You hiss at the sharp pain as Price's eyes lock onto yours, his eyes filled with a rage you had never seen before.his expression remains stoic but you could tell - deep down - he was hurt. Hurt you had ‘done’ this, hurt he trusted you, hurt he saw the person he cared for dearly betrayed him like that. Like a sly fucking fox.

John took a step closer towards you and Simon, his boots echoing loudly in the silent yet sob filled room, your breath caught as the knife swung down to your lower abdomen. You flinch at price getting as close as he can, face to face with you. You could feel his hot breath on you - and what does he do? He fucking smirks, seeing his cruel grin right in your face brings you with such fury. “It's not fucking me!” you scream into his ear, eyes welding with tears once more, tears that dare to fall down.

Simon's face was stiff as he slices into you, a deep cut straight into your lower abdomen, the pain makes you shout out in pain, “stop!” the tears drop from your face, trailing down you and splashing onto the floor. “Give me one fucking reason why i shouldnt slit your throat right now.” Price coldly states, his dead eyes staring into yours - no sympathy found in his gorgeous blue eyes. The cut plastered onto your cheek stings as your salty tears pours into it. The burn hurts and causes you to scream out once more, ghost rolls his eyes - a sight you had saw after giving him a stupid fucking joke but now it was used to mock. To tell you that he doesnt fucking care about your pain anymore, he doesnt care about the cuts , the wounds and the burns he caused you. He doesn't care about you being tied here, bare and for everyone to see for weeks. He doesn't care less about the way you cry - knowing he, no, both of them, had helped you time over time to stop you and to comfort you whilst times you sobbed in front of them.

Why didn't they help now?

Breathing seems to get harder as the blade presses deeper into you, ghost had told you about his tactics before - this is why you weren't scared of what was coming. Because you knew. He would wear the person down, inch by inch, by constant harm and fear. Nothing too much but eventually killing them - if they dont give him what he wanted in the end, but you could see deep down he wouldnt fucking kill you - well you hoped.

They both watch as tears pour from your tear ducts, your chest rises and falls faster than the tears drooping down your body. "I said give me a good reason. Do it now." Price grunts out, his gaze unwavering.

“i- its not me!” you manage to choke and scream out, your lungs burning as a painful cry escapes you. All ghost and price do is chuckle, “why the fuck Would we believe you?” ghost puts the knife down against the cold, bloody floor. Your body stings as you cry out once more, “Id n-never! I swear!” their coldness sends chills down your spine, how could the people who you once called family be this cruel ? this mean ? this fucking heartless ?

“Why would i betray you when i fucking love you, john!” you blurt out, water rolling from your eyes at how this is how you had to confess. Price almost flinches at your words, you could feel his breath hitch slightly. But you were so fucking stupid if you even thought for a second that he would believe you. Ghost snorts at your words whilst your captain's eyes soften for a moment.

The masked man's cold gaze flicked between you and price, his expression revealing nothing - you wouldn't be surprised. “P-please john, i love y-you” you sob out, eyes welding with large sparks of tears. The man you are pouring your heart out too scoffs at you, “do you think we are that fucking stupid?” he spits out. Your head stings as Simon yanks your hair back harshly so you could look him in the eyes, “shut up” Simon's grip onto your hair strings as he speaks the first words he has said since he brought you in this trauma filled room.

“Tell me the truth, do not fucking lie to us.”

You refuse to say anything, frozen as your sob at everything these fucking men, your family had done to you. The more and more pain they had put you in caused you, muted you even more. The first day was terrible, memories of that first night repeat in your mind when you're left alone, cold and shivering - unable to sleep due to the position you were put in, it aches you. They knew you hadnt fallen asleep either, your heart- wrenching screams echoed through the room, it wouldnt have mattered if you had kept them up either, they knew non of them could sleep a blink knowing the person they loved and cared about, the person they saw and worked aside every fucking day would betray them like that? The first night was terrifying but you thought that- you hoped that it was the end and they had came to their senses overnight and finally fucking thought about it, or found out who framed you?

Simon undid the ropes that hung you up when your mind spiraled with past thoughts, your knees hit the hard ground, you groan and put out your hands as you finally touch the floor, you haven't been this close to walking or even standing in what? Weeks? You don't know how long it has been. Your gaze shifts down to your hand, reliving the moment when Johnny has cut off some fingers, now left with 8 fingers that clench onto the floor that your blood and tears covered.

They both look down at you on the floor and step back , almost daring you to get up but you just couldn't. Price let out a sharp breath, running a filthy hand through his hair - his frustration and anger clear on his face. “If you talk-” john breathes through his nose, “if you tell us, it'll be much easier f’ you”

“i didnt fucking do it!” you scream out which results in a quick kick to the ribs by ghost. You grunt and he kicks you again. Wincing to each batter to the ribs, “you're making this worse on yourself, love.” John sneers, peering down at your harmed body, clearly on the verge of just giving up. They watched as you gasped for air, your mutilated hand reaching out for the ground in front of you - to try to crawl away but something, or someone stops you. John's firm foot stood onto your ankle, the odd position you fell too causing your ankle to twist, you sob a cry . his foot stamping down and twisting it further, with ghost stomping onto your ribs and price close to breaking your ankle it was too much, your cries grew and grew - your body shook from the pain.

They stand and watch as your cries grew stronger, your tears streaming down your face and your body twitching from the harsh pain. Simon grips onto your hair once more, pulling your scalp to make you look up at them, “open your fucking mouth” he spits.

Price pulls out a flask of some sort and jolts it to your lips, you weren't listening so he forces it through your dry lips, the metal clinking with your teeth, “he said open.” he said firmly. You try to pull back away from the potion of some sorts they had brewed. Ghost yanks your hair towards it and the flask enters your mouth, hair pulled further so you're facing up to the ceiling as the liquid enters your mouth, it burns.

“C'mon sweet’art, swallow it down” their wicked faces blur as you gag, the disgusting drink hitting the back of your throat and pouring down as ghost holds onto your nose, you gasp for air and the burning sensation makes its way through your throat. You gag at the potion, eyes meeting up with John, your old captain. “Tha’s a good girl, hm?” His words were kind and praise-filled but his tone was gruesome and harsh, his rough exterior plastered onto his face - he just simply didn't care about what he was doing to you, well, that's what you thought. You choke loudly, drips of saliva mixed with the fluid they had shoved into your mouth falls down your chin, they both stand back. Prepared for what's next, which was you spewing your guts out, completely emptying your stomach onto the ground, a small drop of blood hitting out with the vomit, your choking and gags fills out the room. Pure pain is how it felt. Your eyes sting with tears as you cough out the brew.

Due to your weak body, you feel your mind spinning and youre body succumbs to the intense torture, your eyes flicker and your body goes slack. Vision blurring as you pass into unconsciousness - falling into a darkness that brings a relief from the pain.

The two men stood around you notice your body go limp, exchanging a quick glance to one another and sighing. They weren't expecting you to pass out so quickly but it wasn't that much of a surprise. Your limp body almost panics them too, so ghost crouches down and places two gloved fingers to your neck, to the side of your windpipe. Checking if you were still alive. “Looks like she's done” price gruffly speaks after ghost nods, reassuring you were still alive. The masked man stands up and straightens himself back up. “Lets go” his voice low, staring down at your unconscious body and running a hand through his hair once more. They both exit, leaving you there, luckily for you they didn't tie you back up to the pipe. You were just left there - slumped on the floor.

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SCENARIOS ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ TAGS - fluff (for once) - trauma, logan being a lil sweetheart, suggestions and mentions to your past.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

Sharp breaths - in and out - as you look around the winding room. It's been a week since you saw Johnny, you haven't seen any of them so far. You never spoke to them before but you would see them standing outside your door, their shadow slipping underneath the door, or when John let himself inside and sat beside you. But this week you've been alone, no one was there. And honestly? It's been the best week of your life.

You let the sheets fall down as you sit up, dazed. The seat beside you, lonely, stood there. You thought to yourself for a second. You missed the way the air hitched as you noticed John there, missed the way the air smelt like him.

You despised how much you missed him. You hate the fact that he brings you a sense of comfort but then again, it's nice to feel comfort. Even if its from the man you hate the most - the man you wished would die, the man who put you through so much fucking pain.

Ashamed in yourself you sigh, long breath escaping you when you look over at the door yet again. There's a shadow slipping through the door, the silhouette could only be one person – the man opens your door and gives you a cheeky smirk, “hi!” Logan smiles, letting himself into your room. You give him a hum in return.

Logan trots along excitedly, sitting in the loney chair, giving it and you company. “Heard bout what happened and i wanted to check on you” head tilting to the side as his eyes glint with amusement.

“Ah” you mumble. It's been weeks, months? Since you started to kinda trust Logan, you wouldn't speak to him, would never utter a word but you've gotten used to him. His smile and his silly humour. So overtime, he got more and more words out of you, your voice was slightly raspy. You clearly weren't used to talking that much. “Well… thanks.” you let out a slow mumble.

“Mhmmm! So how are you? Has the twat bothered you?”

“Dont wanna talk about it” you mutter, eyes faced down onto your bedsheets, your mutilated hand gripping the white blanket.

It's quiet for a second but it feels like years. The silence overwhelming you. “Soo…” Logan utters, breaking the awkward, “since the doctors took my cards and we cant play snap, i dont have anymore games.” his eyebrows furrowed together, clearly irritated his precious cards was gone. “Wanna play like a word game?? Liikkkee truth or dare!” he says excitedly but it dies down when you give him a strange look. His face droops almost, “...or not cause that's for kids, obviously!”

You let out a slight, small huff in amusement, it's the closest you've been to a laugh since everything. “Howww about would you rather? Deep version” his eyebrows depart and wiggle around. You nod, thinking why not - not like you have anything else to do.

“Would you rather be blind or deaf.”

“This is deep?” you let out a scoff.

He rolls his eyes, “it'll get there.”

“Blind i think.” you look up at Logan, “what would you?”

Logan thinks for a second as he huffs out a breath, “blind too, cause then i wouldn't be able to hear you.”

“You wouldn't be able to play snap or see me though” a chortle sounds from the two of you.

His eyes glisten slightly as he looks at you with a quirk in his lips, “you've JUST started talking to me though and i want to continue hearing your voice. “

You simply don't reply.

“Would you ratherrrr lose all of your old memories, or never be able to make new ones?” he asks with a kink in his eyebrows. He brings his leg up and crosses it over the other as you scowl at him. “Arent, I meant to ask one?”

“No, I wanna ask!!”

“Okay, lose all my old memories.”

He looks at you with an intrigue, “oh? That was quick. Why?”

You murmur in response, “I'd have a better future.” you offer him not much of an explanation but he seemed okay with that by the way he shrugged. “Hmm I would too, just cause I like meeting new people. Plus I'd forget about the fat holes in my stomach, youchhh! That hurt like a bitchh!”

Despite your best efforts, a silent laugh slips from you. Logan beams at that, his eyes practically lighting up at your curved lips. “Would you rathherrr know when or how you’re going to die?”

“Huh, uhm when.”

“Hmmm? Wouldn't that be scary though, like a countdown?”

“Atleast id know, its kinda like–... it's basically a count down anyways you just don't know”

“Damn” Logan sits up straight, smiling a little at you. “Yeahh id pick that too.”

Rounds go by, where Logan would ask random questions. Some were silly like would you rather have a mullet or be bald, then some were strangely deep.

Hes sat with his legs crossed on the once alone chair, and you're sat up against the cold pillows of your bed. The sheets pulled down to the end of the bed, while you sat in your hospital clothes, the fabric flowing over your body. “Okay okay i have a good one, would you rather know what the happiest day of your life or the worst day of your life will be?”

“So can they have already had happened?”

“Hmmm yeah! Sure sure”

“Worst.”

He looks surprised as you tell him, “really? Why? That's such a downer.”

“Yeah well i'm sure the worst day of my life has already happened so- i guess it'll be like comfort nothing worse would happen.” you shrug whilst looking Logan towards his glimmering eyes.

“I think I know the best day of my life,” Logan responds.

You hum in question.

“When I first met you, obviously!” he chuckles with a daft smile on his face. You roll your eyes at him. “Right.”

“Okay classic question, fight 100 duck sized elephants or one elephant sized duck.”

Once again, you roll your eyes at him. His eyes linger on your face as you think about his question. They trail over your scars that litter your face, and the way your eyebrows twitch when you think. “100 duck sized elephants.”

“Yeahh it'll be easier, plus ducks are violent as hell! A goose once ate my top.”

“What?” you exclaim, trying to process what you just heard, “you do know ducks aren't geese? Completely different animals.”

“Look the same so I'm mad at both of them.” he shrugs.

Your head nods exaggeratedly.

You Scratch softly as the scar on your cheek as Logan watches while you do. You're surprised he hasn't asked about it honestly. “Would you rather forgive the people who have wronged you or be forgiven by the people you've wronged?”

“Second one.” you reply instantly.

“Why's that?”

You mumble while looking down, the burn on your cheek hitting you. “I can't forgive them – the people who hurt me.”

He raises an eyebrow, “you can forgive anyone, it just takes time and growth.”

“You don't understand-" the scar on your cheek dribbles a spot of blood, hitting the bed, “shit.”

“Ah fuck.” Logan groans, quickly standing - moving to the bathroom and grabbing toilet paper. Dabbing the bleeding on the reopened wound. “It's okay, just hold this down.” you do as he says, pressing the paper to your cheek.

“I'd forgive whoever had wronged me, I hate being mad at people!”

You give him a small smile and he responds, “you have such a nice smile.” hs states.

Your eyes widen, “oh uhm thanks..”

“Oh shit it's literally dinner, wanna go down to eat?”

You tilt your head, “go down?”

“Yeah ! like the cafeteria?”

“Oh i've just always had my food brought up-”

Logan cuts you off, “yack that foods kinda mank, c'mon i'll buy you something.”

Who are you to say no to free food?

BLOOD. TEETH. GUTS! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ TAGS - angst - mentions of torture, breakdowns, violence, possible sa, argument, johnny being a dick, starving.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

The buzzing fizzes up your ears. Constant. Painful.

It's like static. Yeah. Static blocks out all other senses, the only thing you could focus on was the ringing, forever ringing that fills your head.

Then you look up at him. The guy that caused the pain - well, one of the guys - the guy who's currently standing at the fucking door to your therapist's office.

Why does HE need therapy?

Your eyes were full of shellshock, the memories of the eyes you were looking into, feral as they glared at you whilst ripping your teeth out one by one. But now they look at you, sadness overfilling the wet eyes. The corners are red, just as yours are. Just as yours will always be. Breathing slightly picks up as you stand up.

"I'm sorry, do you two know each other?" Jones starts to speak, following you with her eyes when your legs shake slightly, your movements taking you slowly to the right. Moving to the side of the sofa. "Why the f-fuck are you here." your breathing picks up vastly. Flashes of blood, teeth and guts pop into your head as you're reminded of what he did to you.

"Oh god, fuck- y/n." Johnny steps forward, closing the gap between you two as your breathing thins. Short sharp breaths you inhale and exhale. "Why the fuck are you here!" demanding an answer you didn't want. "Jones is my therapist, trust me, she helps tons." Johnny says casually. As if you two were friends, fucking friends. This wasn't casual though. You were fuming, steam almost flowing out of your ears, your face glowing red.

"What the fuck do you need therapy for?" you scoff, your eyes looking at him up and down, giving him the hackiest of looks. Eyes squinting, trying to see what he truly wanted, trying to see underneath all the lies that dared to utter from his mouth. "A lot of people go to therapy, y/n-" Jones starts but you cut her off, fury raging stronger than your natural kindness. "You. Don't. Fucking need SHIT!" Blood. Teeth. Guts.

You step forward, crashing all around you as you inhale the familiar scent of Johnny. The one you used to link to drinking together or that one time you accidently walked in on him showering and saw him using your shampoo. But now all you saw was when he would harm you. Hatred fuels through you as the scent overtakes you, a prick of tear showing at your waterline. Dripping down your angry face.

"I- bonnie-" he steps back. The tension in the room filled it, an overwhelming atmosphere all around you - you couldn't be here anymore. Your breathing picked up faster than before as everything seemed to move at 2 times speed. "Fuck off!" you barge past him, making sure to push him into the doorframe as you walk by.

Johnny grunts as he hits the wood. The hard frame probably bruised him but fuck him. You didn't care. Actually, you hoped he was hurt. You hoped he would feel the pain that you did - that he put you through. And it would take a lot more than a small push.

It was a stupid idea to follow you, wasn't it?

Tears stream down your face as you scream at him, "you fucking dickhead!!"

Blood. Teeth. Guts.

The images flash through you as his hand reaches toward you, "Y/n, I'm sorry. We made a mistake." "no fucking shit!!" swatting his hand away from you, he couldn't fucking think for a second that you would let him near you. He was lucky you touched him when you barged past him, he was lucky you were talking - well screaming - to him. He was lucky you didn't kill yourself after everything. "I told you! I fucking told y-you that it wasnt me!" sobbing out whilst shouting at him, hitting his chest with more and more anger as you continue to talk.

"Why do you need fucking therapy? Was it so hard for you when you tortured me? When you ripped my teeth out? When you CUT my fingers off?"

People around you were looking. But you didn't care, you didn't care about the stares. All you cared about was your rage. You hadn't let out much emotion since it happened, nothing but what was burning inside of you. Every person you knew told you that you needed to let it out before it started spilling. You were just letting it out. This wasn't even half your rage.

"I didn't fucking want to - and yes it was hard! You were my best friend!"

"And yet you didn't believe me?"

"how- how could I? You would've done the same thing if you got told I fucking betrayed you."

You look up at him, misery in your eyes. "I would've found more fucking information before ripping someone's teeth out!" you hiss spitefully at him, glaring at him as you do so. You were so sick of that fucking excuse, 'we had to do it', bullshit.

They didn't have to strip you, they didn't have to tie you up, they didn't have to starve you. They didn't have to be so fucking cruel about it all.

"You don't fucking understand how hard it was for me to do that."

"Excuse me, you two need to calm down" a doctor walks up to the two of you, surrounded by some other doctors, yet you ignore them. Your eyebrows rise in utter shock. "I'm sure it was really fucking hard!" You yell at him. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Drops spill down your face at a rapid speed. The doctor's eyes dart between the two of you, concern etched into his features. He takes a deep breath. "Please, you two are upsetting patients. Let's just all calm down." He suggests gently, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"'Calm down'" you mock, "Yeah! Sure! Let's just forget about fucking everything!" Your tears flow down your face as the man in front of you sighs. You step towards the man who harmed you, daring him to come closer. Your steps are like thunder as they stomp towards the man. "I'm sure you'd fucking love it!" Unable to contain your anger, you take a swing at Johnny. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Unluckily he swiftly dodged. After taking a deep ragged breath, you could hear commotion around you as the doctors rushed to you and closed in. Random hospital words that you didn't know were thrown around. You feel hands pulling you back, voices urging you to stop. Pulling you away from the situation but you wouldn't stop.

You defy, trying to push them off as you see Johnny being escorted away through glimpses of your tears. The images flash through your mind, over and over. On repeat. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Like a never-ending cycle of rage. The security guards finally intervene, separating you from the doctors. As they try to escort you out, tears stream down your reddening face as you try as hard as you can to part from their aggressive grasp. As you get more and more uncooperative, a silver cold metal shoots into your neck - instantly effective as you slump into the many guards' arms.

Johnnys eyes are wet as he is brought away, looking over at you slanted in the many guys arms/ guilt and regret evident in his weary eyes.