mayfield_logs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: Cain and Abel
What: All the sadfacing. Mama Abel babbying Cain.
Where: Nightroad residence.
When: Before Mrs. Johnson's phone call on the 1st.
Warnings: Hallucinations/adorable child in pain? Maybe clinical usage of sedatives etc. Nothing too bad here.

It had been several days since Cain had been returned to him -- dumped outside of the hospital like the others, left to endure pain and suffer in the recesses of his own mind. His perpetually smiling, cheerful and upbeat twin-turned-little brother had been reduced to a creature living in constant fear... constant fear, and constant agony. He had gone searching more than once in the recesses of the hospital and pharmacy's stores for drug suitable to ease his suffering; it killed Abel to see Cain this way, down to his bones. There was nothing he could do... nothing, to make this better. It was a game of survival. To keep his brother alive and as painless as possible, until they could discover a means by which to reverse this.

Abel is headed back into the house, a brown paper bag in hand filled with various sedatives and painkillers, clean syringes, and IV bags; Cain was sometimes too terrified to so much as perform the basic functions like eating and spent most of his days sleeping them away, so he had to be sure that his age-regressed twin didn't simply wither away. Shrugging out of his coat and leaving it at the door, he heads up the stairs and toward the child's bedroom, quietly unlocking it before stepping inside. The curtains were drawn low to block out the light and let him sleep undisturbed as much as to block out the chaos that was unraveling in the streets.

Mayfield had literally gone to Hell.

It almost seemed that Mrs. Johnson would keep her word and take every single one of them into that mysterious 'factory' of hers -- leave them mutilated or otherwise bastardized versions of themselves in mind, body, or spirit -- sometimes all three. He didn't understand... couldn't understand this; even if the worst days of his life when his heart had been consumed by a sick hatred for man, he had never gone to such lengths to make another people suffer. Even a monster hadn't had the stomach for this.

He closes the door, softly -- putting the bag aside and letting tired eyes adjust to the low light, before he's pulling the chair up beside the bed to sit in it. Fingers reach for the IV currently dripping to test its condition, before he rests his palm lightly over his twin's brow.

...He is beginning to think the life waiting for him on Mars is less cruel than this. Even... knowing how it would end.

This isn't living at all. His brother is a suffering ghost. A small and helpless child enduring something terrible for no reason at all...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cain barely remembered anything of the last few days, it was a blur of agony and faces that twisted and warped above tired eyes. He had been in pain before, as a clone it was something that they had both had to get used to early on, but it had never been like this... nothing so enduring and all-consuming; they hadn't wanted to endanger their investment, after all.

But even the pain would have been easy to cope with if it hadn't been for the fear. Cain was unused to fear and feeling vulnerable, he had become practised at hiding these things to present a veneer of strength - confident in his own abilities to make sure he came out of any situation on top.

Not this time.

So sure was he that he was going to be killed, the threat omnipresent and oppressive, that any rational thoughts scrambled and fled before they had chance to properly form. It left him breathless and panting, aching with exhaustion from a perpetual state of heightened adrenaline and struggles.

He is half conscious as he feels someone touch his brow, eyelids like lead sliding open so he could look up at a familiar face, for once not contorted by hallucinations.

"...Abel."

To say his heart was broken to see him this way was an understatement. There were no words in any language to explain how terrible it was to see a child suffering like this -- and that the child in this case were his own other half made him feel like he was losing that part of himself all over again. He was helpless to fix this... and that fact was eating at him. There is nothing he can do. The blood tests, the plaintive efforts to find a way to reverse the effects... they had all come up empty and dry. He imagined that was exactly what Mrs. Johnson had intended from the start.

His fingers are gentle at his brow -- careful and soft as he brushed blonde from his face with a small smile, ache in his chest tightening at the sound of his name. Was he lucid...? Or... was he about to lose it again, call him a murderer, try to run in his fear?

"Hey, little man." The words are quiet and fond, somehow steady and calm like nothing were amiss at all. "How are you feeling...?"

Perhaps it was the sheer amount of sedatives in his body now, or perhaps his brain was simply too tired to allow itself to be stimulated into fear, but he was lucid enough to see it was his brother this time.

Relief is evident in his eyes... he's safe now, his brother is with him, and that means he won't be hurt. They are still after him, they still want him dead, but he's not alone with it any more.

"Everything hurts."

Some of his smile fades, at that -- that oppressive ache digging deeper. He hates this...

He hates this...

Abel scoots a little closer to the bed, continuing to smooth fingers over his brow with a sympathetic and apologetic look on his face, brow furrowed softly. "It's time for some more medicine. It should make it hurt less, Cain, okay? Do you think you can sit up a bit if I help you?"

"Yeah."

He was pretty sure of that - everything might hurt, but he was strong and invulnerable to harm. Or invulnerable to injury, at least, the only thing that could hurt him were the people trying to kill him.

"I can sit up."

"Good. Let's go nice and slow."

He slings an arm around his twin's shoulders, and starts gently -- carefully -- easing him to sit upright. Maybe he would be cognizant enough to eat something... get something solid in him? Maybe... things were getting better? The drug was wearing off...?

...He could hope.

His limbs protest movement and he feels heavy from the drugs still in his system, leaning on Abel as he was helped upright against the pillows.

Lucid for the moment, he still seemed unable to force thoughts above a basic level, and even then with concentration. He doesn't understand why this was happening, it seemed... pointless.

Abel rubs his brother's back soothingly, letting him lean into him in some half-slumped state; Cain...

He reaches for the glass of water at the bedside table, holding it up to his lips. "Take a sip for me, alright? And I'll get you some medicine to swallow."

Obeying him, letting the water slip down his throat soothingly, he nodded shallowly... go and fetch the medicine, bro, he'll be okay here. Except... the mention of medicine was making the fear rise again, though more slowly than it had been doing.

It was like a battle inside him, half wanting to believe Abel was fetching something to help with the pain and half screaming that it was a trap and he was about to be drugged ready to be killed.

He doesn't have to go far -- he'd brought it with him, after all, rummaging inside of the bag for a little pill bottle. He prayed this one worked better than the last. Even the hospital's stores were not equipped for the amount of pain the populous were in, and anything to combat it was in high demand. The fact that Cain possessed a clone's metabolism meant that he needed much more than the average person for it to be useful, as well... all in all, it wasn't a very good recipe, but Abel was trying to find something that sufficed.

He pops the bottle open, letting Cain remain slumped into his side, before showing him the two white pills. "They might make you sleepy." As if he isn't sleepy already. "But they should help."

Two tiny and innocuous looking pills, yet they hiked the panic right up until it was bubbling just underneath the surface. He could hear the malevolent undertone in Abel's voice, the barely concealed eagerness and glee for a plan working out well... he was dying for Cain to take these tablets and then-- well, then he knew what would happen.

"No."

The refusal was hoarse, throat tight as he turned his head away from the pill bottle and Abel's hand, tensing.

...Sadly, this was more along the line of what he had been expecting. There is only a slight disappointment -- but he's patient, easing his hand back with the pills inside of it.

"Do you want me to take one? To prove they're okay."

He'd go through any lengths to get him to relax and see he wasn't the enemy. ...And all the while, his hatred for that woman is burning hotter and hotter somewhere, simmering deep in his gut. For this... for all of this...

He was going to make sure she answered for everything.

How would that be any proof? He could easily have one dud pill in there that he could take, and the rest be real... or have taken an antidote previously to negate any effects, or--

Shifting slightly next to Abel, he tried to subtly test how strong his legs were feeling right now. Would he be able to make a break for it in the split-second while his 'brother' was distracted taking one himself.

"...okay."

He ruffles his hair fondly, softly. "Look. If I wanted to have done something to you, wouldn't I have done it by now...?" It hurts to have to go through this -- to see the fear bubbling up in his brother's eyes, the distrust... the pain. It was not the first time he had seen him suffer... but it was definitely the first time he had seen him suffer like this.

"It's been days since I brought you back home, hasn't it? I've been taking care of you. Your mind is a scary place right now... that's all, Cain. But you know... you know I wouldn't hurt you."

Please take the pills. Don't make him waste one fruitlessly.

That was a flawed line of logic, he could just have been trying to build Cain's trust so that he lets his guard down (completely ignoring that he has been unconscious and vulnerable to attack countless times), then he can be easy prey.

He doesn't know what to think, there's just a voice in the back of his head thrumming... get away, get away, get away, before it's too late!

"Take one."

He deflates a little more -- just a bit... more tired than anything. Tired of circular battles against something he can't truly fight. It isn't right, and it isn't Cain's fault at all. His impotent rage boiling somewhere deep beneath the surface only gets all the more acidic and venomous for it.

"Will you believe me if I do? The town is... in a lot of pain, Cain. I can't waste them."

No.

He just wants the chance to get away, to dart for the window or the stairs - he's not worried about the drop, he's absolutely confident that he's invulnerable to harm, though the stairs are a better bet in case the window is locked or won't open.

"...I'll believe you."

A sucker and a fool, Abel gives him a wan smile in response -- if it would lead the boy to take them of his own volition, then he'd waste a precious pill. It meant he'd have to dig for more, down the line -- pray that there were any left -- but they were useless unless they aided his twin regardless.

Down the hatch it goes, and he swallows it obligingly... opening his mouth to show his brother it were gone. "See...? Nothing to be afraid of."

As soon as Abel is dealing with the minor distraction of taking a pill, Cain is out of bed and running for the door at top speed. His limbs might ache viciously with fatigue and that ever-present pain, but adrenaline and fear are powerful motivators.

Heart thudding, he practically jumps the banister, half sliding down the rail towards the door. Desperation fuelling him as he tries to get the hell away before he's captured again.

"--C-- Cain!!"

Abel's cry is a half-cough; geez, kiddo, did you have to take him by surprise like that? He's immediately on his feet and avoiding the clatter of the IV that was tugged and clattered over when Cain unceremoniously pulled it -- god, please don't have hurt yourself--

It is disturbing, how fast it happens; Cain makes it half-way down the stairs before his path is interrupted by the firmness of a pair of arms -- not from behind, but before him. Abel is not about to leave any of this to chance and risk his smaller brother toppling down the stairs, scooping him up against his chest and holding him closely.

"Cain, stop...! Stop. It's alright... I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not... going to hurt you..."

Brother...

How...

How had Abel moved fast enough to be in front of him?! He knows a clone's speed (and he really hasn't experienced what Crusnik is capable of yet), so he knows there is no way it can be him. It must be an imposter, one who had just given himself away in order to catch him.

Letting out a blood-curdling scream that would make any of the neighbours believe he was actually being murdered right then and there, he started to thrash in what was becoming an old song and dance now.

It might seem... cruel to an observer, but Abel doesn't heed or humor his fear, instead seeming to ignore it as he keeps his grip firm and steady on the writhing boy in his arms. The priest carries him back up the stairs and toward the bedroom; it seems that his earlier hopes have already been quashed with vigor.

He's not... getting better, at all.

Abel is silent, knowing whatever he says will only be twisted into a malicious hallucination, a threat of death, a promise of further tortures -- instead, settling for sitting in the chair beside the bed and keeping the boy cradled to him in his lap. All he can do is hold him -- and pray he wears himself out into a more lucid state, exhausts himself into sleep, or comes to his senses. It can't last too long with him so... tired. Weak.

...

Even Abel's silence was twisted by the potent drugs, so kindly introduced to his system by Mrs. Johnson, seeing it as the silence of an executioner marching their victim to the guillotine.

Sobbing and beating on Abel's chest fruitlessly, he squirmed and fought on his lap, completely oblivious to how this was hurting his brother's heart.

Outside on the landing, the drone!Astha popped her head around the door and gave them both a wide smile. "Look at my boys playing rough-housing! Don't you two scrappers forget dinner, we're having fish tonight!"

Abel's answer to his drone wife is rather succinct; he merely uses the toe of his boot to swing the door sharply shut in her face. He has no time or patience, right now.

Blue eyes meet their mirror, even if Cain's are glazed with fear, pain and exhaustion... sedation, blurred by tears. He stretches his hand to cup his cheek, his heart tugging viciously against his rib-cage.

"...I love you." Please don't... fight him. Don't be afraid of him. He would never... hurt you, Cain.

It's killing him, to be such a hypocrite. He's asking his brother to trust him when he can't trust himself. Telling him he isn't a monster, when that's exactly what he is. That he won't hurt him, when it's... Abel who one day...

...It doesn't matter anyway, does it? He's losing him all over again...

Astha didn't seem to mind being shut out so completely, as she could be heard humming a tuneless and yet industrious tune as she went back to dusting the hallway.

Cain... wants to believe Abel, he truly does, nothing tears him apart like the sensation that his brother might not be all he seems. Abel is his whole world, his other half, to not trust him is to not trust himself and that way lies madness.

Sweat is already slicking his brow from the exertion of fighting, but he needs... needs to get away. It's such a complete belief that it's wiped everything else away, his only reply to Abel is a tiny pleading whimper, a wordless plea to be set free.