Onus 03

*Direct continuation of Onus 2. Warning for darker content.

All characters are 18+*

***

Soft.

Warm.

The blanket was heavy, and smooth. A thick comforter, like the kind I had when I was living with my mama.

I was on my side.

I could see, because I was naked. I could dimly see from the patches on my upper back. I could see the dim shape of a man against the white light of the room.

I felt a hand on the back of my head. I could feel a wet cloth gently dabbing at the raw wound there. The sting made my stomach feel wobbly. I moaned.

"It's a myth, that you shouldn't let people with concussions fall asleep." The voice was deeper than the ordinary man's voice. The speech had an odd clipped quality. Like his tongue was numb, but he was trying to hide it.

He was spreading some kind of numbing ointment on the wound.

I weakly lifted my hand from under the bed. I rubbed my wrists. The cuffs were gone, but the welts still hurt.

"I don't think you have a concussion... I don't know how to tell. Your pupil and iris are undifferentiated, so I don't think I could do a test. You didn't hit your head that hard. Do you feel nauseous?"

I opened my eyes, a little. I saw soft white sheets, and a dark blue comforter. I saw a wall that was curved inward. I saw an electrical outlet. I saw the spindly shadow of the man spreading ointment on my scalp.

He was quiet for a moment. I could hear clasps, he was closing up a first-aid kit, I guessed.

"That man... He treated you worse than an animal. I... I don't want you to be afraid of me. I wont hurt you."

He ran his hand down my shoulder. His hand was cold. I shuddered a little. He withdrew his hand.

"You're badly malnourished. I'm going to get something to eat. Is chicken soup okay?"

I weakly turned, feeling dizzy, feeling a pang of nausea when I rolled on my back. I looked up at him, and for a heart stopping moment I thought that he was missing half of his face.

He had a whole face. It was just that half his forehead, his right cheek, his right eye, all of that was hidden by a soft black patch. The silk patch was held in place by two loops that went around his head. It also covered a portion of his scalp.

I looked up into his good eye. Brown.

I pressed my lips together. A small sound died in my throat.

"I'll go... You... You stay comfortable."

He pulled the comforter up to my chin.

"Stay on your side, in case you puke."

He left. He was barefoot. I saw his white feet sinking into the pale blue carpet. He closed a wooden door, painted blue. I could hear the door lock.

I closed my eyes again, for a moment. My body ached. Somehow, I forced them open, and I looked around my new cage.

It was a strange cage. A nice one. The wall was perfectly round, and pretty large. Much larger than my miserable cage with the ordinary man.

The floor was covered with thick blue carpet. The ceiling wasn't flat, but it rose up into a hollow cone, with a skylight. The rectangular window was currently solid white with snow. The room was lit by a dangling light. I could see the switch near the door.

The walls were plain and white, with three different outlets. The wall broke into a large bay window, with a wide sill, padded with blue cushions. I could faintly see the snow falling. There were no external lights, no streetlights, or moonlight, or porch-lights. Just the light from my cage.

There was a second door. If the room was a clock, and the main door was twelve, then the second door was three, the bay window was six, and my bed was nine. The second door was white, and the doorknob was gone, leaving just a small hole.

Near one of the outlets, was a fridge. A small one, white. It had a single magnet on it. An apple.

The blue door had a chalkboard on it. I almost hadn't noticed it. It was about two feet high, a foot wide, and it had a little plastic trough at the bottom, presumably filled with chalk.

The room seemed so barren.

I wondered where the trench coat was. It had the pads that I could use to clean my piercings.

I touched my nipples. My nipples had been the easiest piercings, they only hurt and got infected when he had been rough with them. The one in my navel was new and painful.

The dydoe piercings in my cock were sensitive. The ordinary man's friend was able to make them feel good, but they were so sensitive that it had only ever caused pain from the ordinary man.

Under my cock, in the soft skin between my cock and balls, three small ring piercings, side by side. Two were okay, but the one in the middle was grotesquely swollen. I had two small rings in my perineum that were no longer infected.

I could hear his footsteps, coming up the stairs. There were so many stairs that my anxiety just built and built as he got closer.

He knocked softly on the door before opening it. I flinched at the sound. As the door opened, I could faintly hear the chalk rattling in the trough.

I smelled the soup as the door opened. He had a big white tray with legs in his hands, and on top was a steaming white bowl and a glass of water. I stayed frozen under the covers as he came closer, not sure what I was supposed to do.

"Just sit up a little bit..."

He set the tray down. The legs on the tray kept it so it was like a table in my lap. I weakly pulled myself back and sat up, wincing as the light hit all of my sensory patches. The lines on my sides, the triangles on my shoulders, and the oblong on my stomach.

The soup was full of noodles and small pieces of chicken. It was steaming, and I could see the little particles of oil floating on the surface.

I looked up at the half-faced man. He finished fiddling with the tray legs and awkwardly backed away. "Enjoy... Please."

It felt so strange to hold the spoon. I fell on the soup like an animal. Scarfing bites of the scalding-hot soup into my mouth. It was dribbling down my chin... how was I losing so much of it?

"Careful... You don't want to get sick." He cautioned. I stared at him as he spoke. When he was done I went back to eating, but a little slower. I put down the spoon and took the bowl in my hands, slurping from the lip of the bowl.

I drank the entire glass of water. It was so nice to have it all at once, not slurped out of my palm, or lapped from the faucet.

When it was done, I had to breathe heavily. I had been eating so fast that I needed to catch up.

Tears were pouring down my face. My body still hurt. Chronic abuse had taken a vicious toll. But the tears were different. My stomach felt full. It was a beautiful feeling. A simple feeling. A heavenly feeling. To silence those terrible pangs once and for all.

I looked up to see that he had gone through the white door. The white door held a tiny bathroom. Nothing but a commode and a sink and fuzzy blue towel hanging on a wooden rack. He had taken the other towel and was wetting a corner of it in the sink.

He came back. I quickly put the spoon back on the tray and lay back, shrinking into the mattress.

He hesitated a few feet away. He was biting his lower lip.

He got down on his knees, a careful gesture, moving slowly. Like he didn't want to spook a frightened animal. On his knees, he wasn't so tall.

He extended his arm with the towel. I wanted to flinch away, but I was paralyzed.

He carefully wiped the dribble of soup from my chest and throat. I winced when he rubbed my throat. "Sorry..." He whispered.

Then, as slowly and delicately as if I were made of glass, he wiped my chin.

He took the legged tray from on top of me and folded it.

"I'm going to let you rest." He whispered. He wasn't looking at me. His good eye was cast at the floor. "The bathroom is there, and the fridge has water, fruit juice, some soda. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a lot of different things. There are some snacks, too."

He stood up. Despite everything, I tensed. I couldn't help it. It was a visceral reaction. He towered over me. The bed wasn't on a frame. It was a mattress on the ground.

He noticed it. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but he ended up not saying it.

When he got to the door, he tapped on the chalkboard. "Please. If you think of anything you need, write it down. I have a toothbrush and some toiletries for you in the bathroom, but if you need anything, medicine, clothes, furniture, anything that you can think of, you can tell me, or write it down here. I'll get it for you."

I thought he was going to go, but then he flipped the lid off of a small box that I had thought was an outlet. Inside was a doorbell. He pressed it, and I flinched. I could hear the dim chiming echoing through the big house.

"If you need anything, just ring this bell. I'll be up as soon as I can. Don't be afraid to ring it, if it's late, or if it's something small. I... I want you to be happy."

He looked down at the floor. His face was red. He seemed flustered. He fumbled the door open and closed it abruptly behind him.

---

I woke up with a ray of natural light.

It felt so strange. I opened my eyes. I was in a comma shape under the blanket. I poked my head out and looked up.

The big bay window showed a land that had been dipped in brilliant white. It hurt my eyes a little. The only brown was the undersides of the tree branches, no roads, no houses, just an expanse of white.

I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye, and I looked up abruptly.

The skylight was completely white with snow, but someone was swiping at the snow. Suddenly the room got even brighter as a sliver of blue sky showed through.

I watched at he cleared the skylight. First he swept at it with what looked like a broom, then he leaned in and scraped the ice off with his mittened hands. The skylight was almost as tall as he was. I could see a sliver of the roof behind him. He was bundled up in a coat and a hat and a scarf. All I could see was a sliver of skin, and even that sliver was bisected by his face patch.

He waved at me through the skylight. I lifted one hand in response. He moved out of the window. I looked at the patch of light that it threw on the carpet.

I crawled from under the comforter. It was cool in this room, but the air was fresher, I had a blanket, and windows. I crawled into the sun patch, and moaned. The sun patch was warmer than the rest of the floor. I rested my cheek in the rough warm carpet and closed my eyes. I rested in the sun patch for a long moment. The sensory patches on my back felt so good in the light.

I eventually crawled out of the sun patch. I had to urinate badly. I crawled to the bathroom. I could stand, but it hurt less to crawl.

There was some blood in my urine, but less than the last time. It was strange to see it in a white bowl. I was able to wash my hands in warm water. I held them under the flow with my eyes closed. I liked the feeling on my sensory patches.

I looked into the mirror, not wanting to see.

I saw an incredibly frail Onus. One with bruise-swollen eyes and puffy swollen lips. Dried blood along my hairline. Hideous bruised chafing around my white throat. Hollow shoulders like a cradle of bone. Slivers of silver peeking from bite-marked nipples. Bruises shaped like half-moons of teeth, all over me.

I splashed my face with water, and it got rid of a little of the dried blood.

I got the towel and gingerly cleaned my piercings as much as I dared. I put a little pressure on my swollen piercing in my testes. I gasped as it gave, and a spurt of blood and pus wet my fingers.

I wiped the blood and pus away, and saw how matted my hair was. I yanked my fingers through it a few times, but it didn't do anything. He had said that he gave me toiletries, where?

I realized that the mirror opened into a cabinet and I opened it. I saw a fat tube of toothpaste and a red toothbrush still in a wrapper. A comb, a box of floss, a small orange pill bottle. He had put a piece of tape on it and written 'aspirin' on the tape. There were only two pills in the bottle. I realized that he had done it on purpose, so I couldn't overdose.

I carefully combed my hair until it felt soft. It was greasy. I hadn't washed my hair for a few days.

I took the two aspirin. I brushed my teeth and it felt so good. My gums felt raw and sensitive. I hoped that I didn't have cavities. It had been so long since I brushed my teeth. I flossed for good measure, and then hobbled slowly into the main room.

It hurt less to crawl...but it felt so good to stand upright. Like being a person.

I opened the fridge.

The top shelf was crowded with beverages in an obsessively neat way. Three bottled waters, three bottles of apple juice, three bottles of orange juice, three bottles of milk. Arranged in neat rows. One of the bottles of milk was skim, one was 2%, the last was chocolate.

The middle shelf had snacks. Cheese sticks, three different kinds of pudding, half a carton of eggs with 'hard-boiled' written on the cardboard. Some sandwich meats, cheeses, and a loaf of bread.

The bottom shelf was a drawer. I pulled it out. It was full of apples, oranges, a grapefruit, a bag of grapes and a plastic carton of strawberries.

The inside of the fridge door had a soda dispenser. In his painfully neat way, he had ordered them, cola, root beer, ginger ale, cola, root beer, ginger ale. In the shallow door shelf, there were two small jars of peanut butter. One crunchy, one smooth.

I stared inside the fridge. I felt a slow stupid smile on my face. So much.

I didn't want to make myself sick. I took the strawberries, a cheese stick, and a cup of chocolate pudding. I took a root beer to drink.

No hard surfaces, except the window. The sill had a long curved blue cushion, but it was on top of the hard sill. I carried my spoils up to the sill and set them down. I went to the bed to get the blue comforter.

I curled up under the comforter and I nibbled on fresh cold food. I leaned against the window and stared hungrily at the sun-kissed winter landscape.

No spoons, so I ate the pudding with my fingers, careful not to spill on the blanket, loving the taste of the pudding with the patches on my fingertips.

I dipped a strawberry in the chocolate pudding.

The gentle knock on the door nearly made me drop the pudding. I set it down on the hard part of the sill, and turned my head just in time to see the blue door open.

He had short dark blonde hair. I hadn't noticed before. The sunlight brought out the paler strands of hair. He was wearing a close-fitting black sweater and jeans. He seemed lean and healthy. He was older than me. Maybe his mid thirties.

"Good morning." He murmured. His exposed cheek was still red from being outside.

I slid my hand out from under the comforter and waved a little. It was just a small unflexing of my fingers. It still brought a huge smile to his face. It softened him a little.

"I never told you my name. My name is Sam." The careful clipped quality of his words seemed stranger today, now that he was smiling. Before his language had seemed cold, distant, but now his speech still had the odd inflection. Like an accent.

I kept my eyes on him, but he stayed on the other side of the room, giving me plenty of space.

"I wanted to make us breakfast. Are you still hungry?"

Without thinking, I nodded. His smile widened by a few molars.

"Good! That's, um... Good. I have some things set up downstairs... ah... I have a robe. If you want any clothes, you just have to tell me what, and I can order some for you. He was looking down at the floor glancing up at me. He was getting nervous again. He quickly bolted, leaving the door open.

I didn't make a break for it. I didn't even stand up. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know how to drive. I didn't know where the nearest Onii was. What I did know, was that I was incredibly weak. I didn't even think I could take the stairs, much less outrun Sam, or fight him.

And I knew that Sam had fed me.

He came back, and he looked surprised to see me still huddled at the window. He had a robe in his hand, made of some thick soft black material. He started to walk across the room. I shrank into the window. I couldn't help it.

He put the robe down on the sill and turned his back. I stood up and quickly put the robe on. It felt heavy and smothering to my sensory patches, but it was warm, and it nearly touched my toes. It was made for a larger person.

"Good... We can go to the kitchen now... if you would follow me?"

He was asking. I hobbled forward a few small steps, but then stopped, because I didn't want to get too close to him. My feet throbbed painfully.

He walked out of the door and I walked hesitantly behind him. I peeked out of the door. The long hallway to my left and in front of me looked empty and bare. Some clear plastic was hung over the hallway to the left, and taped all around.

"It's... It's just you and me here." Sam said softly. That odd isolated quality of his words seemed so strange. "I have some hallways sealed up, to save on heating. Too much room."

It was still so cold. The robe was warm, but my feet felt numb from landing on the hard wooden floor just outside the carpeted room. Drafts managed to steal up from under the long hem of the robe, and down the neck hole. I wrapped the cloth as tight as I could. It was so big that it was wrapped all around me, but the neck hole was still big enough to sag several inches.

We went down the hallway in front of us. There were three doors, each one with tape over the edges to keep out cold. The wall was papered in yellowed stripes. The place smelled like disuse. I could see oily marks on the walls where pictures had hung.

Going down the stairwell was like descending into darkness. There was a door at the base of the stairs. I tightly gripped the railing. Sam was a few steps down the stairwell and he looked back at me. I quickly averted my eyes to a square of pale blue wall paper where a frame had once hung.

I took a step down and my leg wobbled. I felt a stinging pain between my legs, and a deep dull ache in my lower back. I quickly sat down on the step, feeling dizzy, and aching. My legs were trembling. I was trembling. My head hurt so bad.

"Are you okay?" He muttered, his voice heavy with worry. He jumped up the steps so suddenly.

I scrambled up the step, and cringed behind the bars of the railing above the stairwell. For a moment his expression wasn't so guarded, and I saw an expression of self-hatred and worry on his face. Then he quickly guarded his emotions and held his face still.

"This. This was a bad idea. I'm sorry I scared you." I could hear frustration and self-loathing in his words.

My heart was beating rapidly in my chest. I had been so scared. Now that the fear was ebbing away I let out a low groan. The rapid movement had sent a vicious throb of pain through my bruised body. My lower back was shrieking, and I felt a wretched sickening pain between my legs.

His one eye flicked up to me, and I saw him tense, but then the pain was so bad that I lowered my head. I felt sick. I felt very sick. The sweet rich food that I had eaten roiled in my stomach. It hadn't been that much, but it was still so much more than I was used to. I slipped my hands between my legs. The robe was wrapped so tightly that I couldn't find the seam, so I just cupped my groin through the thick quilted cloth.

I heard a small metallic sound as something dropped to the floor.

"What was that?"

I jerked my head up so quickly that my head spun. He had climbed the stairs and was standing right over me, where I was kneeling, curled up and shaking with pain. I wanted to crawl away, but I was so sick that I just let my head droop again and I retched painfully.

I felt his hand on my back, and I cringed down to escape it. My forehead touched the cold wooden floor. I tasted my own shallow breaths. I breathed weak and fast, trying to hold down the too-rich food I had eaten.