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tamingthemuseTitle: Ripping Out the Stitches
Fandom: HBO's Oz
Author:![[info]](https://dustandroses.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=87.3)
dustandroses
Beta: None yet.
Characters: Beecher and Keller
Rating: R
Warnings: Talk of Rape and other forms of Non-Con, as well as descriptions of Graphic Violence.
Genre: Missing Scene.
Summary: After Metzger's death, Beecher seems to be going off the deep end again. Keller, newly back from Protective Custody, worries about Beecher's crazy ramblings. How much is truth, and how much is in Beecher's mind?
Spoilers: Through Season Three, Episode Two: Napoleon's Boney Parts
Word Count: 1212 words
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em - not making any money off 'em. Dern it.
Prompt Notes: Inspiration for this story taken from![[info]](https://tamingthemuse.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=87.4)
tamingthemuse prompt # 281: A Stitch in Time.
Notes: I have another story in progress with this same prompt as inspiration, but it was getting later and later, and I didn't think I could get it together in time, so I decided to stop writing it, and write a quick 500 word drabble to fit this prompt, so I could get it posted before midnight. Right. 500 words quickly turned to 1,000+. I can't seem to keep that word count down, can I?
I haven't had time to get the beta done, so that will have to wait until tomorrow. At which time I'll post this in my journal, and put a link here to the updated and betaed copy.
Ripping out the Stitches
“Shut up, Beecher.”
Beecher blinked at Keller, wide eyed. “Did you say something?”
Keller frowned at him. Beecher had made Keller nervous, ever since he’d first come back from the Infirmary leaning on his cane, his steps slow and struggling, his eyes full of anger. But tonight, he reminded Keller of when they’d first met, with his crazy beard and even crazier rhymes.
“You’ve been mumbling for hours now. The same words over and over. Something about stitches and thread? I don’t know. You told me you didn’t know how to sew.”
Beecher stared down at him from his vantage point on the top bunk. “I must have lied.” He shrugged, and turned away, looking out into the quad. His words were louder now, as if Keller’s admitting they were there had made them real, somehow.
“A stitch in time saves none, you know. I took small stitches, too – to make sure no one could tell where they were coming from. But it didn’t help. In the end, I still had to tear it all out and do it over again. You can’t hold the needle when your fingers are all bloody.”
Keller kicked the chair, knocking it into the pod wall, anger and frustration warring inside him. The sound attracted Mineo’s attention, and he wandered over slowly to stare at him from the other side of the Plexiglas, like he was an animal in the zoo or something. “Jesus, Beecher, you’re driving me crazy!”
Beecher’s bark of laughter had little to do with humor from what Keller could tell. “You’re a good one to talk. Who do you think drove me there? Do you even have a license for that?”
“Not me.” Keller held his hands up to show the hack he wasn’t doing anything wrong, and gave him a big smile that felt as fake as it must have looked. Mineo rolled his eyes, turned his back and walked way.
“When I first got to Oz, everybody warned me about you. They all told me you were nuts. That I should sleep with one eye open, ‘cause you’d already bit off one guy’s cock, and there was no telling what you’d do next.”
“They were right, too.” Beecher smiled cheerfully, if somewhat manically, at Keller. “I bit the tip right off Robson’s cock. And I’d do it again. But this time I wouldn’t swallow, because his blood tasted foul. I had to spit him out in the end.”
Keller cringed at the thought of someone biting off his cock, and resisted the instinctive urge to pull his legs together to protect himself.
“He tried to force me to suck him, but I’d had enough of that shit from that cunt Schillinger. I almost blinded him. I wish I had. Then he’d know what it feels like to be scarred by someone else’s actions.” He made sure Keller was watching him before he added, “I’m gonna kill him, too, you know. I just haven’t figured out how to do it, yet.”
“Too?” Keller was getting a funny feeling about this conversation, like he was in the back seat of a car, watching it speed down a steep hill, but there was no one in the driver’s seat. “Who else did you kill, Toby?”
“Well, there was Kathy Rockwell, of course. And last night I dreamed…No, that wasn’t me, was it?”
The entire prison was buzzing about the hack who’d died under mysterious circumstances yesterday. Beecher had reason to want revenge on Metzger. Could he have done it? “You saying you’re the one who offed Metzger?”
“That’s not what I said.” Beecher dismissed him. “You’re unraveling the fabric from the wrong end.”
Keller felt a cold chill spreading through his body. “How did you do it?”
“I didn’t do anything. He was a hack, with a club and a gun, and I was just a crazy prag with a bloody thimble. You have to cut your nails if you want to use the thimble. How could I hurt Metzger? How could I possibly pay him back for all the pain he caused me?”
“All the pain?” That didn’t really make sense. Metzger may have been there while Keller and Schillinger had done it, but he hadn’t actually hurt Beecher. “Maybe he held you down while Schillinger broke your legs…”
“And you broke my arms. And my heart. Don’t forget that part.”
Hot shame rushed through him. He’d done it, but he wasn’t proud of it. “I could never forget that, Beecher.”
“Metzger was head hack when Schillinger raped me. He watched and laughed as Schillinger burned a swastika on my ass. Do you know how much that hurt? I could hear my skin sizzling. I could smell the stink of burnt flesh.” Beecher was getting angry; his eyes wild and full of pain.
“But it didn’t hurt as bad as raping me did. The mark on my ass is only skin deep, after all. When Schillinger raped me, he unraveled all my threads. He put his mark on my soul. That will never go away, no matter how many times I bleach the fabric. He owes me revenge.”
“You don’t call shoving glass in his eye and almost blinding him paying him back?”
“I didn’t sew that t-shirt. He’s the bastard who spun that thread.” He was talking crazy again. When he was like this, Keller could only understand one word in ten. “That was just the first stitch. There will be more, many more, before I finish with him. When he dies, he’ll know who it is who’s sending him to hell. His tapestry is going to take a long time. When I’m done, when I set the final stitch in place, then he’ll understand. He’ll finally know.”
The fire burning in Beecher’s eyes was so intense it seemed to blaze white hot. “I’ll break his bones, Keller, the way he broke of mine. I’ll tear him wide open, but I’ll use my fist, because I’ll never touch him with my cock. I won’t defile myself like that. Not for him. I’ll cut his soul into little, tiny pieces, then I’ll sew them into my tapestry, to remind him how much it hurts when you’re sliced into quilt pieces. When I’m through with him, he’ll be my masterpiece.”
The room was silent for a moment, except for the sound of Beecher’s rapid panting. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but none the less deadly for that.
“If you think Metzger was a work of art, you just wait. I’ve only just begun.”
“Lights out!” Mineo’s voice echoed around the empty space outside their pods. The loud snap of the first bank of lights turning off made Keller jump. He realized he’d backed up until he stood against the cool wall of the pod, the light behind him fading as each bank clicked off, one after another.
The fire seemed to have burnt right out of Beecher and Keller couldn’t help but shiver, wondering exactly what was going on behind those cold, dead eyes. Then Beecher turned over, his back to Keller, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. Slowly, Keller walked to the bunk and swung down onto his mattress. It took him a long time to fall asleep.
~
Fandom: HBO's Oz
Author:
dustandrosesBeta: None yet.
Characters: Beecher and Keller
Rating: R
Warnings: Talk of Rape and other forms of Non-Con, as well as descriptions of Graphic Violence.
Genre: Missing Scene.
Summary: After Metzger's death, Beecher seems to be going off the deep end again. Keller, newly back from Protective Custody, worries about Beecher's crazy ramblings. How much is truth, and how much is in Beecher's mind?
Spoilers: Through Season Three, Episode Two: Napoleon's Boney Parts
Word Count: 1212 words
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em - not making any money off 'em. Dern it.
Prompt Notes: Inspiration for this story taken from
tamingthemuse prompt # 281: A Stitch in Time.Notes: I have another story in progress with this same prompt as inspiration, but it was getting later and later, and I didn't think I could get it together in time, so I decided to stop writing it, and write a quick 500 word drabble to fit this prompt, so I could get it posted before midnight. Right. 500 words quickly turned to 1,000+. I can't seem to keep that word count down, can I?
I haven't had time to get the beta done, so that will have to wait until tomorrow. At which time I'll post this in my journal, and put a link here to the updated and betaed copy.
Ripping out the Stitches
“Shut up, Beecher.”
Beecher blinked at Keller, wide eyed. “Did you say something?”
Keller frowned at him. Beecher had made Keller nervous, ever since he’d first come back from the Infirmary leaning on his cane, his steps slow and struggling, his eyes full of anger. But tonight, he reminded Keller of when they’d first met, with his crazy beard and even crazier rhymes.
“You’ve been mumbling for hours now. The same words over and over. Something about stitches and thread? I don’t know. You told me you didn’t know how to sew.”
Beecher stared down at him from his vantage point on the top bunk. “I must have lied.” He shrugged, and turned away, looking out into the quad. His words were louder now, as if Keller’s admitting they were there had made them real, somehow.
“A stitch in time saves none, you know. I took small stitches, too – to make sure no one could tell where they were coming from. But it didn’t help. In the end, I still had to tear it all out and do it over again. You can’t hold the needle when your fingers are all bloody.”
Keller kicked the chair, knocking it into the pod wall, anger and frustration warring inside him. The sound attracted Mineo’s attention, and he wandered over slowly to stare at him from the other side of the Plexiglas, like he was an animal in the zoo or something. “Jesus, Beecher, you’re driving me crazy!”
Beecher’s bark of laughter had little to do with humor from what Keller could tell. “You’re a good one to talk. Who do you think drove me there? Do you even have a license for that?”
“Not me.” Keller held his hands up to show the hack he wasn’t doing anything wrong, and gave him a big smile that felt as fake as it must have looked. Mineo rolled his eyes, turned his back and walked way.
“When I first got to Oz, everybody warned me about you. They all told me you were nuts. That I should sleep with one eye open, ‘cause you’d already bit off one guy’s cock, and there was no telling what you’d do next.”
“They were right, too.” Beecher smiled cheerfully, if somewhat manically, at Keller. “I bit the tip right off Robson’s cock. And I’d do it again. But this time I wouldn’t swallow, because his blood tasted foul. I had to spit him out in the end.”
Keller cringed at the thought of someone biting off his cock, and resisted the instinctive urge to pull his legs together to protect himself.
“He tried to force me to suck him, but I’d had enough of that shit from that cunt Schillinger. I almost blinded him. I wish I had. Then he’d know what it feels like to be scarred by someone else’s actions.” He made sure Keller was watching him before he added, “I’m gonna kill him, too, you know. I just haven’t figured out how to do it, yet.”
“Too?” Keller was getting a funny feeling about this conversation, like he was in the back seat of a car, watching it speed down a steep hill, but there was no one in the driver’s seat. “Who else did you kill, Toby?”
“Well, there was Kathy Rockwell, of course. And last night I dreamed…No, that wasn’t me, was it?”
The entire prison was buzzing about the hack who’d died under mysterious circumstances yesterday. Beecher had reason to want revenge on Metzger. Could he have done it? “You saying you’re the one who offed Metzger?”
“That’s not what I said.” Beecher dismissed him. “You’re unraveling the fabric from the wrong end.”
Keller felt a cold chill spreading through his body. “How did you do it?”
“I didn’t do anything. He was a hack, with a club and a gun, and I was just a crazy prag with a bloody thimble. You have to cut your nails if you want to use the thimble. How could I hurt Metzger? How could I possibly pay him back for all the pain he caused me?”
“All the pain?” That didn’t really make sense. Metzger may have been there while Keller and Schillinger had done it, but he hadn’t actually hurt Beecher. “Maybe he held you down while Schillinger broke your legs…”
“And you broke my arms. And my heart. Don’t forget that part.”
Hot shame rushed through him. He’d done it, but he wasn’t proud of it. “I could never forget that, Beecher.”
“Metzger was head hack when Schillinger raped me. He watched and laughed as Schillinger burned a swastika on my ass. Do you know how much that hurt? I could hear my skin sizzling. I could smell the stink of burnt flesh.” Beecher was getting angry; his eyes wild and full of pain.
“But it didn’t hurt as bad as raping me did. The mark on my ass is only skin deep, after all. When Schillinger raped me, he unraveled all my threads. He put his mark on my soul. That will never go away, no matter how many times I bleach the fabric. He owes me revenge.”
“You don’t call shoving glass in his eye and almost blinding him paying him back?”
“I didn’t sew that t-shirt. He’s the bastard who spun that thread.” He was talking crazy again. When he was like this, Keller could only understand one word in ten. “That was just the first stitch. There will be more, many more, before I finish with him. When he dies, he’ll know who it is who’s sending him to hell. His tapestry is going to take a long time. When I’m done, when I set the final stitch in place, then he’ll understand. He’ll finally know.”
The fire burning in Beecher’s eyes was so intense it seemed to blaze white hot. “I’ll break his bones, Keller, the way he broke of mine. I’ll tear him wide open, but I’ll use my fist, because I’ll never touch him with my cock. I won’t defile myself like that. Not for him. I’ll cut his soul into little, tiny pieces, then I’ll sew them into my tapestry, to remind him how much it hurts when you’re sliced into quilt pieces. When I’m through with him, he’ll be my masterpiece.”
The room was silent for a moment, except for the sound of Beecher’s rapid panting. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but none the less deadly for that.
“If you think Metzger was a work of art, you just wait. I’ve only just begun.”
“Lights out!” Mineo’s voice echoed around the empty space outside their pods. The loud snap of the first bank of lights turning off made Keller jump. He realized he’d backed up until he stood against the cool wall of the pod, the light behind him fading as each bank clicked off, one after another.
The fire seemed to have burnt right out of Beecher and Keller couldn’t help but shiver, wondering exactly what was going on behind those cold, dead eyes. Then Beecher turned over, his back to Keller, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. Slowly, Keller walked to the bunk and swung down onto his mattress. It took him a long time to fall asleep.
~
