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dragonjournal) wrote2010-10-04 02:28 pm
dragonjournal) wrote2010-10-04 02:28 pm
Entry tags:
Bingo Spam #2 3/5
Title: Memories
Prompt: Illness (major or minor)
Rating: G
Content Note/Warnings: a bit of grossness, but nothing too bad. (From the same universe as Family Ties)
Kenny felt the heaviness in his chest. He struggled to take in a breath. The cough caught him off guard.
He doubled over as his lungs spasmed, trying to expel the fluid trapped within them. Some actually did come out, green and yellow.
That couldn’t be good.
He’d survived the ‘training’, survived the block. To get sick now, just after he’d arrived at his new master’s estate seemed a cruel fate. If he couldn’t hide the illness, then they just might send him back to the slavers.
Where he might see Max again.
No! She’d told him to forget her. He would do that. Forget her and become a model slave so that some day, he might earn his freedom. A slim hope, but one he would cling to.
It was either that or become lost in the despair that life as a slave brought.
“Newboy!”
His head jerked up at the call and he picked up his buckets again. They were building some sort of extension onto the main house. The rumor he had heard was that the master would be taking on pleasure slaves, meaning he needed to house them.
Pleasure slaves were the prettiest and the most trained. They were also the most expensive. He wondered who the master was that he could afford such a thing.
“You’re slacking, Newboy.” One of the other slaves warned him.
So far, his life had been lacking in beatings. He’d gotten better food, better lodging and more care since arriving than he had during his entire time at the training facility. He liked this place.
“I will do bett –“ He broke off in a fit of coughing that took his breath away. Well, his secret was out now.
“Shit.”
He heard the growled curse and flinched. Now he would be sent back to his trainers. There, he’d die. Slaves with illnesses weren’t allowed to stay. They were dragged away and probably slaughtered. He certainly had never heard one return.
His arm was wrapped around someone’s shoulders as his lungs continued trying to expel themselves from his chest. He didn’t fight as they dragged him off somewhere. Probably a holding cell until they could return him to the trainers.
Maybe he’d be allowed to say good bye to Max.
He was laid out on a bench covered in some sort of soft material.
“Here, drink this.”
Foul smelling tea was shoved under his nose. No matter how much he tried to move, they forced it down his throat. The stuff tasted worse than it smelled. Maybe they were just going to poison him and throw his body in a shallow grave.
Hot, moist towels were placed on his chest and the room filled with steam. That actually helped him breathe. His eyes fluttered closed. If they were going to kill him, at least he’d be comfortable.
A warm hand on his shoulder woke him up.
“Kenny?”
He knew that voice. He’d been listening to that voice for months while trapped with the trainers.
“Kenny, can you hear me?”
Another voice said something about not waking him, but he was already awake. He struggled to open his eyes.
“Max?” His voice came out a hoarse whisper.
It couldn’t be her. He’d left her in the cells. She’d probably be there until they killed her. She’d always seemed like the type of person to have to be killed, before she could be broken.
“It’s me, Kenny.” The warm voice poured over him like honey on strawberries.
“Max.” So he was dead then. They’d killed him, or his lungs had finally just stopped working. “I… couldn’t forget.” He wanted her to know, needed her to know that he hadn’t forgotten her, or what she’d told him.
She chuckled and he felt an answering smile tugging his lips. “Good.” Her fingers touched his and he realized that it really was her, not some fever dream. “Kenny, don’t ever forget.” She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I can’t stay, but you’ll be safe here. Don’t forget me, Kenny, even when you wake up and think this all a dream.”
“Max.” Another coughing fit took him and her fingers slipped from his. By the time he’d recovered enough breath to speak, he managed to open his eyes and see she was gone.
His eyes slid closed as the steam thickened in the room once more. Had she been a fever dream? Was he dead?
Don’t ever forget.
While he’d planned on ignoring her previous admonishment, this one, he could follow.
Prompt: Illness (major or minor)
Rating: G
Content Note/Warnings: a bit of grossness, but nothing too bad. (From the same universe as Family Ties)
Kenny felt the heaviness in his chest. He struggled to take in a breath. The cough caught him off guard.
He doubled over as his lungs spasmed, trying to expel the fluid trapped within them. Some actually did come out, green and yellow.
That couldn’t be good.
He’d survived the ‘training’, survived the block. To get sick now, just after he’d arrived at his new master’s estate seemed a cruel fate. If he couldn’t hide the illness, then they just might send him back to the slavers.
Where he might see Max again.
No! She’d told him to forget her. He would do that. Forget her and become a model slave so that some day, he might earn his freedom. A slim hope, but one he would cling to.
It was either that or become lost in the despair that life as a slave brought.
“Newboy!”
His head jerked up at the call and he picked up his buckets again. They were building some sort of extension onto the main house. The rumor he had heard was that the master would be taking on pleasure slaves, meaning he needed to house them.
Pleasure slaves were the prettiest and the most trained. They were also the most expensive. He wondered who the master was that he could afford such a thing.
“You’re slacking, Newboy.” One of the other slaves warned him.
So far, his life had been lacking in beatings. He’d gotten better food, better lodging and more care since arriving than he had during his entire time at the training facility. He liked this place.
“I will do bett –“ He broke off in a fit of coughing that took his breath away. Well, his secret was out now.
“Shit.”
He heard the growled curse and flinched. Now he would be sent back to his trainers. There, he’d die. Slaves with illnesses weren’t allowed to stay. They were dragged away and probably slaughtered. He certainly had never heard one return.
His arm was wrapped around someone’s shoulders as his lungs continued trying to expel themselves from his chest. He didn’t fight as they dragged him off somewhere. Probably a holding cell until they could return him to the trainers.
Maybe he’d be allowed to say good bye to Max.
He was laid out on a bench covered in some sort of soft material.
“Here, drink this.”
Foul smelling tea was shoved under his nose. No matter how much he tried to move, they forced it down his throat. The stuff tasted worse than it smelled. Maybe they were just going to poison him and throw his body in a shallow grave.
Hot, moist towels were placed on his chest and the room filled with steam. That actually helped him breathe. His eyes fluttered closed. If they were going to kill him, at least he’d be comfortable.
A warm hand on his shoulder woke him up.
“Kenny?”
He knew that voice. He’d been listening to that voice for months while trapped with the trainers.
“Kenny, can you hear me?”
Another voice said something about not waking him, but he was already awake. He struggled to open his eyes.
“Max?” His voice came out a hoarse whisper.
It couldn’t be her. He’d left her in the cells. She’d probably be there until they killed her. She’d always seemed like the type of person to have to be killed, before she could be broken.
“It’s me, Kenny.” The warm voice poured over him like honey on strawberries.
“Max.” So he was dead then. They’d killed him, or his lungs had finally just stopped working. “I… couldn’t forget.” He wanted her to know, needed her to know that he hadn’t forgotten her, or what she’d told him.
She chuckled and he felt an answering smile tugging his lips. “Good.” Her fingers touched his and he realized that it really was her, not some fever dream. “Kenny, don’t ever forget.” She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I can’t stay, but you’ll be safe here. Don’t forget me, Kenny, even when you wake up and think this all a dream.”
“Max.” Another coughing fit took him and her fingers slipped from his. By the time he’d recovered enough breath to speak, he managed to open his eyes and see she was gone.
His eyes slid closed as the steam thickened in the room once more. Had she been a fever dream? Was he dead?
Don’t ever forget.
While he’d planned on ignoring her previous admonishment, this one, he could follow.
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