What did they fight the hardest not to lose? Were they in any way successful?
For Aaliyah?
- sara / @justplainwhump
Her memory! Mostly the memory of her mother, but her memory in general.
See, the reason WRU took her as a pet was because she got Tom out of there when he tried to escape and made it to her office instead, and this was before his memory was fully wiped (yeah... the handlers on duty with him utterly failed there). And they can't have her out there knowing kids are made into pets. But this means Aaliyah knows it's possible to escape before losing her memory. So she fights for as long as possible. And when it becomes clear she can't get the drip out, she hangs onto her memory for as long as possible.
Also, she made her mother a promise that she wouldn't be taken as a pet.
You already know how well that went (hint: not well at all) (she doesn't really remember anything).
Another psychiatric whump OC, actually my original one! Pulling into the archives for this. It's a continuation of something I've posted before if you recognize the beginning :)
“Do you need to go lie down?” Her light pink lips were turned into a solicitous frown.
“No Darlene, I am fine.”
“Okay pumpkin, if you insist.” Her drawl was not motherly like the young nurse probably intended but instead just I ncredibly annoying.
“I am not a gourd Darlene.” He mumbled under his breath as she walked away.
“Oh honey, simmer down!” She had heard him and called back amiably as she entered the nurses station, hips swaying.
Tom shot a glare in her direction and settled further into his chair, pulling his arms around himself.
Ten minutes later he was unconscious again. He couldn’t help it, it was the drugs, there was a fine line between subduing the patients and knocking them out and they seemed to have not hit the balance with him yet.
Since he had arrived here he normally spent all day every day drifting out of hazed reality and sleep.
This time he was woken up by one of the orderlies with his hands under each arm lifting him to his feet. Tom startled awake in panic.
It would be okay if they woke him and asked him to get up or something, but he was treated like a rag doll. They didn’t expect him to be capable of much. Not much of the patients in there really were. They were drugged into oblivion. Most of them used to be dangerous. They thought Tom used to be dangerous. Riley told them that, harmful to himself and others, he had said… and much more.
“What- where are we going?” Tom broke out of the grasp to stand on his own and pull his thin white hospital t-shirt straight. He couldn’t help but already feel smaller than he knew he was.
The orderly raised an eyebrow. Tom knew the translation to this now- are you gonna be trouble for me?
“It’s time for treatment Tom.”
“Aren’t the drugs aren’t doing enough? I don’t need that.”
“Tom, that’s not up to you to decide. Are you going to cooperate or do I need to let the doctor know?”
“What kind of treatment is it? You could at least tell me that.”
“Tom, your brother signed off on it, it’s okay, just come along, behave and it will all be over before you know it.”
Another orderly noticed the pair and joined the group. Ready to reinforce. It made a deep pit twist in Tom’s stomach.
To them he was dangerous and unreasonable. A threat waiting to happen. They would never come close to treating him like a real person. It didn’t matter what he did to prove to them that he was sane and not meant to be here.
Tom couldn’t help it- despite the full knowledge that it was futile. They had everything in their arsenal to outpower him. He would never stand a chance but he couldn’t turn himself over- not like this.
“Seriously, I feel fine today. I don’t need treatment.”
“Tom, I’m going to ask again. Are you going to behave and come along or do I need to call the doctor?”
Tom backed up a step, away from the orderlies, “I don’t want to do electroshock.” he answered in an uncharacteristically small voice. He knew they were avoiding telling him becuase it was going to be this.
“Come on buddy. It is not so bad. You won’t feel a thing.”
So it was ECT.
The guise of bravery that Tom himself had almost believed was all but gone now.
He shook his head in refusal as he backed up another step. There was something solid behind him, another orderly. He took the opportunity to grab Tom’s arms. It was abundantly clear at this point that he was no longer going to cooperate.
A chill ran through him. A fear that he hadn’t been familiar with before his admittance to the hospital. His elbows began to fly which successfully loosened the grips on him. But the other men were fast, they were used to patients like him at this institution.
They lunged. He dodged. But the game didn’t carry on for long, he was grossly and pitifully outnumbered. Where had they all come from? Where had they been waiting?
They had him pinned down after a couple more seconds. But Tom had grown hysterical. He writhed and fought harder and harder to free himself.
“PLEASE! Let go of me!”
A nurse, was it Darlene? Rushed over with a syringe and he caught sight of it.
“No, no, no, nooo. Not again.” He watched the shiny needle out of the corner of his eye like a feral dog. The volume of his voice had decreased into breathless and low plea.
“It’s okay honey, we’re just gonna calm down now.”
And with a smile that she probably thought was reassuring rather than sadistic she pricked his leg.
In moments, Tom was plunged under an ocean of waves. He was heavy, very heavy. Was the ground wet? Reality was altering more and more with each beat of his heart, pumping the mystery drug through his veins.
Two of the orderlies hoisted him up under his arms and dragged him out of the common room. Everything receded and came back at irregular intervals, Tom couldn’t say which was when. With the aid of a nurse, they wrestled his dead arms into sleeves with no ends. They pulled off his blue hospital pants and did he hear a nurse saying something about cleaning him up? They were wiping off his thighs and pulling fresh underwear and then pants on.
And then he was huddled on a floor.
He slowly entered reality hours, minutes, or days later, he couldn’t know, with a thudding skull and a smell. He abruptly realized where he was when he couldn’t stretch his arms. He tried to sit up and squinted, a plush room. He wasn’t on the raised area (that was probably meant to be the bed he surmised with a grim logic) but rather on the ground up against it. It hurt his head to try to remember. He tried but was already drifting back to unconsciousness.
He resurfaced what felt like a little while later maybe. He was now curled up in the corner of the small padded room. He didn’t recognize that there were people above him at first. What felt like directly above him stood the doctor and an orderly, looking down at him. Did he see pity? He felt confused and barely above the surface of consciousness.
“How are you feeling, Tom?” Dr. Fitz asked gently.
Tom could do nothing but screw his features in confusion.
“I was told you were very uncooperative Tom. Why didn’t you go to treatment when asked?”
Tom shifted further back into the corner, attempting to build more space in between the men and him. “I didn’t want to.” He slurred out.
“Well there’s no reason to be sca-”
“And. I don’t need it.” Tom spoke up.
“Tom,” The doctor intoned obnoxiously. “You were brought to us for a reason. You need-”
“No, my brother-”
“Tom. Stop this. Your brother cares about you, he brought you here to get the help you need. He and your father want you to be well again.”
That familiar feeling of indignation rose in his throat like bile. They wouldn’t listen to him, they never did, but something wouldn’t let him drop it, he couldn't go along with it, “Riley lied to you! Riley-”
“Tom, that’s enough. We can discuss it calmly during your next therapy session this afternoon if you can behave.”
Despite himself, Tom’s cheeks burned with shame, they really thought he was crazy. Once they made their decision, every word that came out of his mouth was discounted.
“Tom, now what do you say Jared helps you get cleaned up now.” The doctor smiled tepidly at the sudden change of topic.
Tom furrowed his brows, clean him up? He looked down at himself and his stomach plummeted. There was a darker stain around his crotch than the rest of the blue hospital pants. Was that what happened to him last night? Had he wet himself also during the struggle? He vaguely recalled a nurse using a wipe on his thighs before inching a fresh pair of underwear up his legs. The orderlies had to hold him up because he was too drugged to stand up straight. The shame he had felt moments ago deeply intensified.
The doctor and orderly observed the stricken look on his exhausted face.
“It’s okay Tom. It’ll be no problem once you get in the shower.” The orderly offered some reassurance.
He couldn’t bear to look back up at them. Crazy people couldn’t control themselves, no wonder they were convinced, all the signs were there.
“Here, Tom, first can we take these.” It wasn’t a question, a demand. A wax paper cup was offered from behind the orderly’s back. With his arms strapped to his sides, Tom was forced to simply open his mouth and allow the assortment of pills to be tipped in.
“Tongue out, come on. Okay, nice job, bud.”
By the time he was hoisted up by the elbow and being dragged down the hall, he swear he could already feel the world dimming again. He, two orderlies, and a nurse marched to the bathroom together. He barely moved past a shuffle. He was sore from the tussle and the dosages were clearly upped as a result of the outburst.
The orderlies kept closer than usual as the nurse briskly stripped him of his clothing and straight jacket and turned the shower head on. He just stood there, zoning in and out of awareness as she scrubbed him down. If he weren’t so far away with what they gave him, he wouldn’t have been able to bear it.
Once they finished bathing him, he was dressed and the nurse asked him a question. He was so distant that he didn’t hear her the first couple of times.
“Tom? Tom honey, do you want to go back to your room to rest?”
Tom managed a nod and they guided him back through the halls to his normal cell. The orderlies helped him settle onto the bed but didn’t leave immediately. One of them, was his name Jared? Had kept his hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“Tom, buddy, are you sure you’re alright?”
Tom gave a feeble nod back and murmured, “Sleep”.
“Okay, buddy. We will be back to check on you later.”
Aaliyah and Cass, along with the other rescues in Sandy's safehouse, bake cookies for the Christmas tree and get presents.
Set on their first Christmas Eve in the safehouse, a few weeks after their arrival there.
3k
CWs: BBU, pet whump, recovery whump, implied past non-con, briefly mentioned past minor whump, past dehumanisation, past degradation, self degradation
The key turns in the lock as they're kneading the dough, and it feels like time stops in the little, too-messy kitchen.
Aaliyah freezes, heart pounding, hands holding the cookie dough. Tom, little Tom who makes her head hurt, crawls under the kitchen counter, arms around his legs. And Letitia scurries to greet whoever's entering (please let it be Mx Sandy and Cass and Xiu back from shopping, please don't let Mr Jacob have forgotten something, he's supposed to be away from here for Christmas, please, please).
"Welcome home, Mx Sandy."
"Thank you, Tish. How's the morning been?"
"Good, Mx Sandy. We started making the cookies for the tree and, and Tom's made a calendar."
"That's great, honey. Do you want to show me?"
"Yes, mx."
Aaliyah stands up straighter, dropping the dough. It's far too messy in here, she really hopes Mx Sandy doesn't punish them for it, or at least that she only punishes her, please, please. Tom and Letitia don't deserve to be punished. People never like mess, it's far too much to hope she won't be punished at all.
Mx Sandy enters the room, followed by Letitia nervously, then Cass and Xiu, both carrying bags which they set down in the corner before washing their hands.
A tiny bit of Aaliyah unclenches. It's Cass. Cass is safe. He's safe he's safe he's safe. His eyes immediately lock onto her and he limps over, standing beside her. She finds his hand and squeezes it.
"Let's have a look at this dough then," says Mx Sandy, and Aaliyah steps aside, in front of Tom's table. She has to hide him, has to get Mx Sandy to punish her, not him. He's so little.
Mx Sandy looks in the bowl. "What flavour did you use? Orange zest, right?"
"Yes, mx," says Letitia. "Is it, is it okay?"
Mx Sandy beams at them. "It's perfect. It's alright, Aaliyah, you won't be punished. Or you, Tommy, you can come out from under there if you like."
Tom crawls out and stands slightly behind Aaliyah, clutching the hem of her oversized top. "You, you promise?"
"I do. There's nothing wrong with making a mess here."
Tom nods. "I, I know. I, I'm sorry, I forgot, with, with the white rooms and the, the white walls, I, I forgot, I forget, I can't–"
Aaliyah turns and wraps the boy in her arms. He's so young, so small. An adult now, Mx Sandy thinks, but he wasn't when he came here, apparently. He makes her head hurt but she can't not comfort him.
"That's okay, honey," murmurs Mx Sandy, "we're here to remind you. Does anyone want to start rolling out the dough?"
"I will," replies Xiu softly.
"Good girl. Tom, want to show me your calendar?"
Tom nods and peels himself away from Aaliyah, wringing his hands. He has a smudge of cookie dough on his glasses, and he swipes at it as he crosses the room and picks the decorated paper plate up from the table, a mini tear-off calendar stapled underneath. He's drawn a jungle scene, of course.
"That's excellent, honey."
Tom beams. "Thank you."
"You should all choose a cutter for your cookie. Cass, Aaliyah, Xiu, have you ever made tree cookies before?"
Cass doesn't respond at all, and Aaliyah shakes her head (she's never done any baking, Master didn't buy her for that, and he wouldn't have let her touch his food anyway. She refuses to think about the bake-at-home dog biscuits she was made to prepare for Cass one time). Xiu says, "No, Sandy. I did cooking and baking for my Sir but not these."
"Okay. That's okay. I'll show you how to make them. Or Tish can, if you'd like, Tish? You're an expert by now."
Letitia looks away shyly and nods.
"Excellent. I'm going to put away the groceries."
Aaliyah frowns. Isn't that a pet's job? She can't say anything though, and she watches as Mx Sandy opens the fridge and starts piling food in out of the bags. Xie've even bought some of those stringy cheese sticks she likes so much.
Aaliyah really doesn't understand why xie're so nice.
Letitia picks up a tree-shaped cookie cutter and lays it on the flat dough. "You take the cutter and, and press it down on the dough until it goes all the way through. Then you poke a hole in the top and, and put the cookie on the tray." She demonstrates, placing the tree-shaped cookie on a greased baking tray. "See? Now you can do it."
Tom bounds forward to pick a giraffe cutter, and Letitia smiles fondly at him, stepping back so he and Xiu can make their cookies (Xiu's picked a little cat. It's cute). Cass lets go of Aaliyah's hand but doesn't move himself. Aaliyah steps forward to choose hers. Maybe if she does, Cass will follow.
There's a lot of cookie cutters on the table and Aaliyah blinks, overwhelmed by all the choice. There's so many, how can she choose? She shouldn't be choosing anyway, that's a people thing, it's for her Master to do.
But he's not here anymore.
Someone's tapping her on the hand and she turns to see Tom bobbing up and down beside her.
"You, you having trouble deciding?" Aaliyah nods. "Do, do you want some help?" She nods again, and Tom looks over the cutters thoughtfully, choosing a moon and holding it out to her. "If, if you like."
Aaliyah smiles and nods gratefully, taking it in both hands. She heads over to where Xiu is carefully pressing her cat into the dough. Xiu glances up at her.
"Do you think we're doing this right?" she asks softly.
Aaliyah hesitates and then nods. It looks like how Letitia did it anyway, so it's probably okay, right?
"Good. I wouldn't like to make a mistake. That would be bad."
Xiu's designation is, was, partly Domestic, and Aaliyah wonders if her Sir was a perfectionist, the way she's so careful with everything. Careful movements, careful chores, careful cookie cutting. Aaliyah steps up next to her and cuts her own cookie, making a hole at the top of the moon with the end of a teaspoon. She transfers it to the tray beside Tom's giraffe.
"You can cut some small ones to eat too in a minute," says Mx Sandy, passing by to put a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. "They won't need holes. Let me check we have all the tree cookies first."
Mx Sandy crosses to the tray with a smile, ruffling Tom's hair on the way. He beams.
"We're one cookie short," says Mx Sandy after a quick count. "I know which one is yours Tom, Letitia... Xiu, Cass, Aaliyah? One of you? You don't have to make one if you don't want to, but it's a nice tradition."
"Dirty mutts don't touch things used for people food, mx," says Cass roughly, hunching his shoulders.
"You're not a dirty mutt, Cass," says Mx Sandy firmly, "and you eat food made here normally, what's the difference with these?"
"That's made for me, mx. I do not, um, dirty anything meant for people. But I might touch the dough making a cookie and dirty mutts shouldn't do that. Not if people will use it too. Begging your pardon, mx."
Mx Sandy bites xir lip. Aaliyah shuffles closer to Cass and puts her arm around him. He has to make a cookie for the tree!
"Okay. Okay, Cass, we'll work on dissuading you of the dirty mutt thing later, because you're not one but I can't see a way to persuade you of that right now. For now, just know that you're allowed to touch things. You can make yourself a cookie, Cass, that's allowed. Why don't you choose a cutter?"
Cass looks down at Aaliyah, who nods. Mx Sandy said he can make a cookie, so he should make one!
Warily, he approaches the cutters spread out on the table and looks them over. He picks out a star gingerly with two fingers and holds it up.
"That's good. Cut some smaller ones too, if you like, so we can eat them."
"You're, um, sure, mx?"
"Yes. Go on, before Tom uses all the dough."
Tom looks up from his mini jungle of cookies, turning bright red. "Oh, I'm, I'm sorry, Sandy."
"It's fine, honey. You carry on. There's still enough dough for Cass."
Cass cuts his cookie and places it on the tray, and by silent agreement the others stay back, letting Cass and Tom cut the small cookies. Once they're done, Mx Sandy puts the tray in the oven.
"And now we wait. We have some presents to give you all. They're nothing bad, all good things. I hope you'll like them. But first, shall we put some music on? Any preferences?"
Cass shifts awkwardly and glances at Aaliyah. "Please can we have, um, no Christmas songs, mx?"
Aaliyah shudders at the memory of Christmas Day fights and Christmas songs playing as Master... well. No, no Christmas songs.
"Of course. Tish isn't fond of them either."
"Carols specifically," says Letitia, folding against Mx Sandy's side. "Too long in my box under a Christmas tree."
Mx Sandy presses a kiss to her forehead and murmurs something Aaliyah can just hear.
"I'm sorry, honey."
"Was your parents, not you," Letitia mutters shakily back.
"But still, if it wasn't for me–"
"–I might have gone to someone who wasn't, wasn't as kind," finishes Letitia firmly. Mx Sandy pulls her into a proper hug.
Cass exchanges a look with Xiu and squeezes Aaliyah before stepping away, Cass pulling what Aaliyah thinks might be clothes out of a shopping bag while Xiu piles them neatly.
If they're the presents... if Cass helped choose them... maybe they're not too bad.
Mx Sandy steps away from Letitia and takes a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay, right. Thank you, Cass, Xiu. I'll put on the mixed playlist we made earlier in the year, yeah? Aaliyah, Cass, we'll add some songs you like to that soon." Xie fiddles with something on xir phone and a country song starts playing out of the speaker. "So. Presents. You can all sit down if you like, you don't need to stand around."
Aaliyah, Cass and Xiu sit down, Cass slumping over slightly with a wince. His leg must be bad if he's visibly wincing, and Aaliyah leans against him, trying to share her body heat. Letitia frowns at him and crosses to the microwave, putting a reusable heating pad in.
"You sit down too, Tish, I'll do that," says Mx Sandy, and Letitia nods, taking a seat beside Xiu. Tom leans against the side, feet tapping away.
"Is, is it okay if I don't sit, Sandy?" he asks nervously, and xie nods.
"Sure. It always is. Here you go, Cass." Xie hands Cass the heating pad wrapped in a Christmas tea towel, and he presses it to his thigh.
"Thank you, mx."
"No problem Cass. You can use them when you like, you don't have to wait."
"Yes, mx."
Aaliyah squeezes his hand. She knows he hates asking for things, hates the feeling that doing so makes him weak. Master used to laugh at him and call him a 'bad, weak mutt' when he couldn't walk properly, and she knows he's scared of that, too.
"Aaliyah, yours is on top, you okay having it first?" She nods, insides twisting with nerves, and Mx Sandy passes her a bundle of fabric. She unfolds it, grateful at least that it's not wrapped.
It's a sweater. A Christmas sweater, like she's seen some spectators at Cass' fights wear. She banishes those memories from her mind.
It's... strange. This sweater clearly isn't meant to show her off. She pulls it on and it's just... warm. Baggy, oversized, and she pulls the wool over her hands, curling into it. It's dark blue with snowflakes and a large reindeer in the middle.
She loves it. She smiles widely and bows her thanks.
"You're welcome, honey. Cass chose it."
Aaliyah turns to Cass and gives him a hug.
"That's a white-tailed deer," says Xiu suddenly, and Aaliyah turns to her as she claps a hand to her head. "I don't know where that came from, my apologies."
Aaliyah shakes her head. She doesn't mind. It's another piece of Xiu, before... before.
"It's fine," says Mx Sandy concernedly, "do you want some painkillers for your head?"
"No, thank you, Sandy."
"Okay. Do you want to tell us about the deer?"
Xiu nods. "On Aaliyah's sweater, it's a white-tailed deer, not a reindeer. Reindeer are shaggier. I don't know how I know that though."
"Because whoever you were before WRU did. Don't pressure yourself, more memories might come back if you wait." Xiu nods. "Okay, Tommy, you're next."
Tom takes his bundle of fabric and unfolds it. He makes a small sound of delight and throws it over his head, grinning.
His sweater is more of a sweatshirt, with a racoon in Christmas lights and a Santa hat, surrounded by a knit pattern.
"Thank you thank you thank you!"
"I thought a fleecy sweatshirt would be better for you," says Cass, "I know you cannot stand wool on you."
Tom beams.
The rest are all knitted. Xiu has a pattern of penguins on blue, and Mx Sandy has a green sweater that looks like a Christmas tree that makes Letitia burst into giggles. Xiu flushes proudly at the reaction. Letitia herself has a bright red knit with a llama on, and Cass has a dark blue sweater with dancing Santa Clauses on that he puts on carefully, almost disbelievingly, wrapping the wool around his hands.
"Thank you. It is the warmest thing I have had of my own in a long time." He makes a choked sound somewhere between a sob and a comment, and Aaliyah wraps her arms around him before he can make a comment about mutts not getting proper clothes – not that she knows he will, but Master used to say that a lot.
He feels soft in this jumper.
Mx Sandy smiles around at them all. "I'm glad you like your presents. And thank you so much for mine."
"You paid," objects Xiu.
"Still. It's from you and Cass." Cass smiles slightly. "D'you want to decorate your cookies now? I'll get out the writing icing and sprinkles."
"May I make white icing?" asks Xiu.
"Go ahead."
Aaliyah watches as Xiu makes white icing and Mx Sandy fetches the rest of the cookie decorations. There's different colours of writing icing and lots of sprinkles and all sorts, and she feels that twisty, nervous feeling in her chest again.
"Just decorate it how you like. There's no wrong answer."
She swallows and nods, reaching for a tube of yellow writing icing. Carefully, making sure the line doesn't wiggle too much, she outlines the edge of the cookie. Then she uses some of Xiu's white icing to stick multicoloured sprinkles down the centre. She doesn't know how she remembers how to do this, and she's not going to think about it or it'll hurt her head. She looks to Mx Sandy for approval.
"That's very good. Do you like it?" She nods. "Then I like it. Once the icing's set you can thread some of this ribbon through the hole."
Mx Sandy passes her the green ribbon and some scissors, and Aaliyah cuts a length, then runs it through the cookie, looking at Mx Sandy's one from last year as a reference as she ties the ribbon.
She looks around at everyone else. She's ahead. Is that okay? Finishing first has always been a bad thing in the past, but this isn't that, is it, so maybe, maybe it's not too bad? Cass squeezes her shoulder.
His star is more complicated than hers, with a little face in the centre, and he's struggling a little to tie the ribbon. Not being allowed to use his hands for much other than fighting for a couple of years didn't really lend itself to being able to do complicated motions easily, she supposes.
She taps him on the arm and when he looks at her, gestures, "You want help?"
"Mutts don't–" Aaliyah cuts him off with a firm swiping movement with both hands, creating a cross. No, no, not that, Master's not here, he's not a mutt. "Yes. Yes, thank you, Aaliyah."
She smiles and takes the ribbon, tying it carefully in a loop. Cass puts his arm around her.
"Happy Christmas."
Aaliyah leans against him contentedly. Yes, yes it is. It might not quite be Christmas Day yet, but for once, for the first time, this is a happy Christmas. She realises, quite suddenly, that although she was created for Master, and she was mostly okay there, she was never actually happy. Not like she is now. She tries not to feel guilty about it, because surely she should be happiest with her Master?
But she wasn't.
A tear drips down her cheek.
Where she's happiest is right here, with Cass and everyone else. Especially Cass. He– he should have more than being treated like a fighting dog, and now he does.
Master took her and Cass on a walk, once, when the truck broke down and they needed to get to and from the Christmas Day fights. Aaliyah had been holding Cass up as he limped, bleeding, and as she'd looked in the windows of the houses they'd passed, all yellow and bright and warm-looking and full of people laughing and smiling nicely, she'd wished, briefly, that she was safe and warm and loved like that. It had been wrong to think, of course, so so wrong, but...
But, now she is. Now she gets to have that. She wipes her cheek and smiles at Cass, tapping the morse code message Letitia taught them on the tabletop.
Fun fact: Domestic pet belonging to Sandy, bought by xier parents as a Christmas present. She's lived in Sandy's safehouse since xie started it.
Tom
Pronouns: he/him
Age: 20
Birthday: 10 November
Height: 5'3"
Character type: Whumpee
Fun fact: Rescued combination Romantic/Domestic pet living in Sandy's safehouse. He was 14 when he ran away and was rescued in the middle of his training, voice still breaking. Loves jungle animals.
Michael
Pronouns: he/him
Age: 35
Birthday: 25 December
Height: 6'0"
Character type: Whumper
Fun fact: Theo and Lea's primary handler, when they're training together. Becomes a whistleblower for certain practices but stays working as a handler and never starts thinking that pets are people – some things are just a little too much.
“Tom you need to calm down.” Dr. Fitz warned him with a low voice.
Tom attempted to shift in his seat but he was tethered down pretty tightly. The lack of movement suffocated him. He could feel himself beginning to sweat. He sat there strapped down like a dangerous animal while his brother sat completely free right across from him. He was free to stand up and walk out of here. No one would stop him. He wasn’t being force-fed mind-numbing drugs nor strawberry supplements. He wasn’t being bathed by three other people in a shower. He wasn’t being wrestled into straight jackets or being tied down to beds or locked in soft rooms. How could Riley do this to him? Just for money?
“Do you need to go lie down?” Her light pink lips were turned into a solicitous frown.
“No Darlene, I am fine.”
“Okay pumpkin, if you insist.” Her drawl was not motherly like the young nurse probably intended but instead incredibly annoying.
“I am not a gourd Darlene.” He whispered under his breath.
“Oh honey, simmer down!” She had heard him and called back amiably as she walked away.
Tom shot a glare in her direction and settled further into his chair, pulling his arms around himself.
Ten minutes later he was dead asleep. He couldn’t help it, it was the drugs. There was a fine line between subduing the patients and knocking them out and they seemed to have never hit the balance with him. He normally spent all day every day drifting out of hazed reality and sleep.
This time he was woken up by one of the orderlies with his hands under each armpit lifting Tom to his feet. Tom startled awake. It would be okay if they woke him and asked him to get up or something, but he was treated like a rag doll. They didn’t expect him to be capable of much. Not much of the patients in there really were. They were drugged into oblivion. Most of them used to be dangerous. They thought Tom used to be dangerous. After all, that’s what Riley told them.
“Wha- where are we going?” Tom broke out of his grasp to stand on his own and pull his thin white hospital t-shirt straight.
The orderly raised his eyebrows and Tom gave a calm gesture with his hands to signify that he wouldn’t be any trouble.
“It’s time for treatment Tom.”
“As if these drugs aren’t doing enough? I don’t need that.”
“Tom, that’s not up to you to decide. Are you going to cooperate?”
“Well, what kind of treatment is it? You could at least tell me that.”
“Tom, your brother signed off on it, it’s okay, just come along and behave.”
Another orderly noticed the pair and joined the group. Ready to reinforce. It made a deep pit twist in Tom’s stomach. To them, he was dangerous and unreasonable. They would never come close to treating him like a real person. It didn’t matter what he did to prove to them that he was indeed sane.
*swoons* I freaking love the Tom drabble. Holy crap.
*KNOCKS COMPUTER OFF MY LAP* omg thank you for sending this message. I wasn’t sure if anyone liked this kind of whump and it’s my Favorite. It feels particularly sick and twisted but maybe it’s just me being self-conscious… it’s nice to hear :) I’ll be posting a lot of tom stuff bc I’ve been writing it for years and just came across my old folders!
