Puppet Boy

7.

TYLER'S EYES moved around to find that he was back in a chair again, his limbs hanging lifelessly off the sides of it. He almost slid off, nothing able to support him, but The Man grabbed him by his filthy grey shirt and forced him back into a seated position.

All he could feel was The Man's large fingertips pressed against his clammy forehead, tipping his head back. A glass was pressed to his chapped lips and a cold, refreshing liquid slid down his dry throat. Tyler's eyes rolled back in satisfaction, but his throat was so raw that he could barely even swallow the water.

"Good, Puppet Boy..." The Man praised, his voice calm and relaxed. His fingers stroked Tyler's matted, sweat-drenched blonde hair off of his forehead as he watched Tyler finish the glass with enticement. "Sweet little Puppet Boy..."

The words sent a shock of chills through his body. He watched as The Man walked over to the other side of the room, visible in only the dim desk lamp that was set on a table beside him. He used a hose to fill the cup and strolled calmly over to Emily with it.

When the light shimmered on the glass, Tyler could see the dirt and unknown substances floating in the mucky, brown hued water. He almost gagged, but he couldn't even find the energy to do that.

Emily shook her head while The Man tried to bring the glass to her mouth. He grabbed her head roughly, pressing the glass to her lips so hard that Tyler could hear it clink against her teeth. He forced the liquid down her throat, in which she rebelliously spit it back in his face.

Tyler exhaled, selfishly hoping that The Man wouldn't beat him for what she did again.

The Man recoiled, throwing the glass at the wall and watching as it shattered to the floor. He then slowly thread his meaty fingers through her knotted hair, his face getting close to hers. She tried to back away, but her head hit the back of the chair.

"G-get away from me," she warned, her voice unsteady.

The Man tilted his mask up to reveal his mouth, leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers. She groaned in disgust into his mouth, while Tyler quickly glanced away, unable to watch.

She continued to whimper, and Tyler could hear the chair squeaking against the floor as she tried to push herself away from him.

The Man must have stopped, because her noises of protest subsided, and he was back in front of Tyler.

"Are you guys hungry?" The Man asked, curiously gazing at the both of them.

Both of them could not answer. Tyler's head was back, his eyes burning from lack of nutrition and sleep. He didn't even feel hunger anymore - he was way past just hunger. He was starving.

"Are you guys hungry?" he asked again, louder this time.

His eyes flickered between them rapidly, his body seeming to shake with anger at the fact that they were ignoring him.

"Yes," Emily decided to answer this time, her words weak.

"Well, you cannot eat," he said spitefully. "For you must be light as a feather for the show. I must be able to lift the both of you," he laughed excitedly, like a little child. "I must be able to lift the both of you! I must be able to control the both of you."

Emily's cries were a lot softer, but they were still there. They never really seemed to leave. Her breaths were shaky and each exhale held a soft moan of discomfort. But The Man seemed oblivious as he turned his back to the both of them, rattling what sounded like metal around.

The Man grabbed a tool that seemed like a power drill and held it up, turning it on. It spun quickly, the silver blade swirling around, and Tyler's heart nearly stopped. His thoughts began to race - was he going to use that tool on them?

The Man brought the drill to Tyler and knelt in front of him. Tyler breathed in agony as he tried desperately to gather the energy and courage to maybe compromise with The Man, saying that he would keep the string on again if he did it the less painful way. But he physically could not speak, and by the terrifying, determined glare in The Man's eyes Tyler could tell he wouldn't be too fond of a compromise.

"This is what happens when you pull my strings off," The Man said, his tone pure ice.

Emily gasped.

"Please," Tyler groaned out, his eyes closing. "Please don't."

But suddenly, the loud noise of the tool shook Tyler.

"You won't be able to feel this," The Man said, and Tyler remembered that his limbs were so numb, he hadn't even felt The Man grab his hand. "So that's why you're going to be forced to watch it. And if you look away, there will be bigger consequences."

Tyler's eyes went wide, his breath hitching. "I- I-" he tried to say, but the tool sliced into his hand before he could finish his scattered thought.

Tyler couldn't feel it, but he could see blood oozing from his flesh. Emily screamed a blood-curdling scream beside him, ending it with a harsh cry for help. Tyler's eyes went wide. He was going to pass out, his vision was swaying and the dark, eerie room was spinning.

The Man glanced up at Tyler to make sure he was watching, his eyes squinted into a smile that Tyler could not see but he knew was there. Tyler could hear his bones cracking beneath the blade of the drill, and he sobbed under his breath, tears unable to fall. He was so sweaty and so weak that he couldn't even cry as he watched his own hand gush blood.

He groaned in discomfort, his eyes shutting, but The Man screamed over the noise of the tool. "Watch, Puppet Boy!"

Tyler forced himself to watch, his hand covered with his own dark blood. He then watched as The Man pressed towels against it, putting pressure on it to subside the bleeding. Tyler couldn't hold his head up any longer, it fell to his shoulder again and his vision went to the ceiling.

He could hear The Man scream at him to continue watching. He could hear Emily sobbing beside him, her voice loud and high-pitched as if it weren't already established that nobody was there to help them.

Tyler's vision blurred, and suddenly, he didn't even try to fight the darkness that was beginning to engulf him. Instead, he welcomed it. He let himself slip away.