In Search of Home

Chapter 42

The ringmaster had his arm in an iron grip, claws digging into his fragile skin. They were long, dark, and sharp, and seemed to pierce every cell in his arm, straight down to the bone. Shockingly, Viktor couldn't feel a thing except for sick, burning hot hatred in his stomach and throat. The ringmaster twisted his arm, hoisting the human up onto his toes. 

The ugly alien's lips were moving, teeth snapping dangerously close to his ears, but Viktor couldn't hear a thing. He all but snarled at the alien, baring his teeth and tugging uselessly on his arm. The ringmaster's claws tightened around his arm with every pull. 

Tug, tighten, repeat. But Viktor couldn't stop struggling. He needed to be free. 

Suddenly, the ringmaster started shaking him violently. Viktor started to hear him chanting his name, low and ugly. Face twisting with anger, the teenager lashed out with his other fist, finally finding the courage to do so. 

"I'll kill you," he promised him, "I'll kill you, I'll kill you!" He began to shout, scream with everything he had. His fist was hitting its mark, swing after swing. "I'LL KILL YOU!" 

His arm wrenched awkwardly as the ringmaster let go for a moment. Viktor felt like he had been submerged in mud with how slow he was moving. He wanted to twist away from the alien. Put some distance between them. But he couldn't even blink. 

The ringmaster, with his cruel eyes, gazed at him. There was nothing but greed and scorn in his eyes. He reached out, slow and taunting. And when he gripped Viktor's arm, his world lit up with pain. 

Viktor lurched forward, throat burning with the intensity of his scream. His arm was being shredded to pieces. Flesh, muscle, bone. Every nerve was on fire. This was worse than breaking it, worse than every scratch and bite from the arena, worse than those beatings the ringmaster viciously doled out on him. 

His eyes snapped open, scream dissipating into breathy whimpers as the scenery around him changed abruptly. The familiar walls of the closet greeted him. 

Heart pounding in his chest and still wired from his dream, he immediately noticed the pressure on his cast, and the harsh throbbing of his arm underneath it. His other hand was curled into a fist, nails biting into the soft flesh of his palm. Viktor's eyes flickered madly in the dim lighting, locating the threat to his person quickly. The transition from dream to reality had been abrupt, and his body was telling him to fight or die. 

His arm followed the movements eagerly, ready to attack whatever was holding him. The cool metal of his bracelet slid down further onto his arm, slicing into his awareness. Bracelet? Viktor thought hazily, hesitating for just a second. 

Reality crashed into him, then, and he slumped, all the fight leaving him. He had to smother the urge to cry. 

"Kohgrash, Kohgrash," he heard Vok'Rul muttering soothingly, the clicks and grunts of other words filling the small closet along with his own harsh breathing. The alien was gripping his cast, claws digging into the material lightly. His arm was throbbing, as were his shoulders, elbows, and head. His thrashing must have woken the alien up. Viktor filled in the blanks of what happened next. 

Viktor tugged weakly on his arm, grateful when the alien let go. He tucked it close to his chest, unable to swallow the whine of pain when he moved it. It felt like he had just fractured the thing.

Vok'Rul made a worried little noise in the back of his throat, carefully gathering Viktor up in his arms. He made a loud noise of protest, wanting to just curl up under his blanket and ignore what had happened. Vok'Rul hesitated for a moment, before lifting the human up into his arms. 

Viktor pushed against his chest with his good arm, twisting his mouth in a half-hearted grimace. The movement jarred his shoulder, though, and he stopped his weak struggling. Resigned to suffering, he was deftly carried out of the office and into the bathroom. Vok'Rul switched the lights on, and Viktor couldn't help the displeased hiss that left his lips at the jarring brightness. He turned his head to face the alien's shoulder, finding his soft clothing a good barrier against the bright lights.