Puppet Boy

9.

WHEN THE Man finished bathing them, he dropped the cloth. "I have to go iron your outfits for the show, will you guys be good puppets while I'm gone?" he asked.

They didn't answer.

He chuckled, his laugh muffled behind his terrifying mask as he tilted his head. "My beautiful little puppets..." he whispered. He slowly reached out and touched Emily's sopping wet hair, twirling it through his fingers.

They were too drained to speak. They weren't sure of how long they had been held captive for, but they did know that they were both becoming noticeably thinner and weaker. When Tyler looked down, he could see that his rib cage and stomach were significantly sunken in. Emily, too, looked thinner. Her collarbones protruded farther than before and her arms seemed almost skeletal.

The water was getting cold and they were beginning to shiver, but The Man seemed to want to keep them shoved beside each other in the filthy tub.

He didn't exactly enjoy the fact that an older, psychotic man was bathing him beside a girl he barely knew. He also felt extremely uncomfortable - The Man was staring at Emily, and sometimes even him, with such an alarming hunger in his eyes, Tyler didn't know what to expect.

"How about you guys give each other a little kiss before your creator leaves for a few minutes?" The Man asked, malevolence laced through his hungry tone. Upon viewing their refusal, he simply shook his head while chuckling under his breath. "Puppet Boy, kiss your Puppet Girl before I kill her."

Tyler looked at The Man, hatred clear in his eyes. He leaned over and pressed his lips against her chapped, cold mouth, too tired to do much else.

"Keep going, Puppet Boy..." The Man trailed off, his sparkling, dark eyes flickering between the both of them with excitement. "Go on..."

Tyler moved his lips against Emily's again, while she continued to whimper into his mouth. He pulled away, his forehead falling tiredly against Emily's chin. He could barely breathe.

"What are you doing? You guys are married! I shouldn't have to fucking tell you guys to kiss!" The Man screamed out, grabbing the bar of soap he used for them and throwing it at the dry wall. He hit his hand against the side of the tub, standing up and tugging at his own hair.

Tyler's expression held disdain, his chest heaving as he watched The Man tantrum like a child.

The Man angrily began to mumble incoherently to himself. He locked eyes with Tyler and leaned down, slamming his fist unexpectedly into Tyler's jaw. Emily screamed as a stream of blood trickled from his lips and into the tub, adding a crimson swirl to the mucky water.

"Kiss your fucking wife!"

Tyler groaned in pain, wanting to refuse but when he noticed an incredibly horrifying anger growing in The Man's eyes, he gave up and almost instantly leaned over to kiss Emily again. He could taste the salt of her tears as they hit his lips.

He heard The Man moan in pleasure from beside them, watching them intently. Chills tickled Tyler's spine.

It was hard for them to kiss, because their mouths were both intensely dry and Tyler's jaw ached from his fresh injury. He also couldn't stand the fact that The Man was getting off to it; it really disturbed him. He was thankful when The Man looked down at his watch and called for them to stop.

When Tyler pulled away, he could see his blood on her lips.

"Good, my beautiful puppets," he praised. "I now have to go prepare your outfits. Enjoy each other, but not too much. As much as I would love a beautiful baby puppet coming from you guys, I would have to abolish it. For I can not have Puppet Girl gaining weight," The Man said, and Tyler felt sick.

The Man leaned over and slid his fingers around Emily's bare shoulders. She shook, maybe from the cold or maybe from fear, or maybe even both - but she wouldn't stop.

She sniffled and shook her head to try and cover her chest with her hair but The Man only moved the damp strands back again.

"You don't have to cover yourself up, my beautiful Puppet Girl. Especially not in front of your husband," The Man whispered, anger hidden in his tone.

His lips tilted into a smirk as he pressed them gently to her forehead. He then made a throaty noise of gratification before standing up and exiting the bathroom.

Tyler leaned his head against the wall. Blood kept trickling from the corner of his cracked lips; he tried to lick it off but it wouldn't stop trailing down his chin.

Emily sniffled as she silently cried. Tyler closed his eyes tightly, the pressure in his head increasing with breathy exhale she let out. He felt like he was going to explode.

He was so dehydrated. He was actually tempted to drink the bloody, dirty water that they were submerged in, but he couldn't even channel enough strength to move his body.

It was silent, the only sound that filled the small room was the sound of the water each time one of them moved and Emily's desperate snivels.

"I..." she suddenly began to say, her voice cracking. "I was on my way to my little brother's birthday party."

The pain in her bloodshot eyes reminded him that he wasn't alone in the situation. He inhaled sharply and looked away, his eyes focusing on the broken sink ahead of him.

"He was turning eight," she cried out. "He was so excited for me to come. But it's my fault, I... I got a flat tire. I shouldn't have gotten out of the car, I should have called someone the minute I saw that man following me," she said quietly. "And now I'm never going to see him again. He probably hates me."

Tyler swallowed his salty blood, averting his gaze to the brick wall of the indecent bathroom. He stiffened as he thought about his little sister, and wondered how she was doing. He wondered how his mother and father were holding up, and his girlfriend.

He missed them so much and the thought of never being able to see them again made his heart sink.

"I'm... sure he doesn't hate you," he tried to comfort, but if he couldn't even comfort himself, how could he possibly console somebody else?

"You don't get it, Tyler," the broken sound of her voice cut through him like a knife. He almost wanted to start crying himself, but he really didn't have the energy. "I was all that he had. He was my life, I treated him like he was my own. I want to get out of here for him, Tyler. For Andrew-" she heard The Man coming and whipped her head towards the doorway, her long, damp hair hitting Tyler's face in the process.

The Man walked through the doorway, and Tyler swore that he got more frightened each time he saw that damn mask.

"How about you stop crying, Puppet Girl, before I give you a reason to?" The Man asked while staring down at Emily.

She began to shake again.

"As if you haven't given her a reason to cry already?" Tyler asked, fueled by hatred. His throat was so sore and parched but his words were surprisingly steady. He almost felt proud of himself for standing up to his captor.

The Man just laughed, shaking his head. "You're going to regret treating me like this, Puppet Boy. You're going to regret hating me like you do."

"I won't regret it," he replied, almost involuntarily.

The Man balled his fists, chuckling darkly. "Remember who controls you, Puppet Boy." And then, Emily screamed for The Man to stop as Tyler was pulled harshly from the tub by his numb arms.