Disclaimer: We don’t own Placebo or anything like that. We have no right to do this to their bodies whatsoever. (But it’s fun, isn’t it?!!) We are two very poor students and if you decide to sue us, we’d just like to say, good luck, because like, we have no money at all.

Rating: This one is definitely ‘R’ even though one of us is 16. lol. It contains some really evil stuff that is *so* not suitable for anyone that doesn’t like this kind of shit. It contains explicit m/m sex and other stuff that is quite gross. Be warned.

Genre: Drama/Comedy

Author’s Notes: This story was inspired by the fic ‘I Finally Made It’ by Athena2693. (And this picture)

Summary: Brian gets admitted to a mental hospital. Chaos ensues.

‘Madhouse Molko’ by Athena2693 ([email protected]) & fishboy ([email protected])

He hadn't meant to do it. Really. He didn't wake up one morning and think to himself ‘What a nice morning to hurt myself’. It had actually begun during one of his routine hissy fits. Feeling pissed off at the world, he'd stormed into his hotel room and had started throwing things around. First the vase went out the window, then the lamp shattered against the wall. After, he had slid down the wall beside the bed and just sat there, his knees pulled to his chest. He didn't feel any better, now all he had was a mess. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked around the hotel room, it looked as if a tornado had hit it. Or maybe just a spoiled rock star. With a sigh, he climbed to his feet and walked over to the opposite wall. Luckily the lamp hadn't crumbled into small pieces. He picked up one of the sharp porcelain chunks. As he grabbed a sliver, h! e pulled back quickly and glanced down at his finger. A small drop of blood was seeping out. He stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked on it.
"Brian, come on! Don't act that way!" He looked over at the door.
"Stef, go away!"
"No, let me in."

He heard the lock being picked. He dropped the sharp fragment and ran into the bathroom. He heard footsteps in the room and sighed with relief, he really didn't want to talk to them. He sat on the floor and let himself start crying again. God, he hated his life. Everyone wanted something of him, while all he wanted to live. Maybe the only way to live was to die nowadays. With that thought, he looked in the medicine cabinet. No pills, but a razor was just as good. He climbed into the bathtub and held the razor in his hand. Not a regular razor, this one, but an actual razor blade. Why was it in the bathroom? It was more of the kind you use for making things, not grooming yourself. It doesn't matter, really.

He turned it around, feeling the cold metal of the handle in his palm. He slid out the razor blade and looked at it. It looked so cold and unfriendly. Bringing it to his forearm, he ran it over his flesh. He shivered at the sensation. Pain, true pain. Something he hadn't felt it a long time. He was always too stoned out of his mind to feel anything. It seemed nothing could reach him, until now. He ran the blade across the flesh. Fuck, it felt incredible. Sweet and cold, like when you hold your hand in searing water just to see how long you can stand it. It felt like till that last moment, right before you could no longer endure the sensation and you are forced to pull away. Hell, it was better than love. It was better than drugs. It was even better than sex! It seemed that suddenly, all his worries were gone.

He pulled up his sleeve, looking for a patch of unbloodied flesh. But before he could repeat the action, he heard the door being opened. His hid the razor in his pocket, and hoped they! wouldn't see the blood-filled lines running across his arm.
"Brian, are you okay?" It was Steve.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Christ, what happened?" Stefan had grabbed hold of his arm and was looking at the cuts.
"Um, that's from the glass. Did you see the lamp out there?"
"Yeah. Are you going to be okay?" He nodded.
"Yeah, just let me clean up, I'll meet you guys in the lobby." He fingered the bulge in his pocket nervously, hoping they wouldn't notice.
"Okay, we'll be waiting."

The second time was after an interview in America. The whole time, the stupid bimbo had just sat there and asked them about their sex lives. Which condoms they preferred, how many inches were their dicks, did they ever have sex on their mother's kitchen tables. Hmm, they're a band; why the hell would she bother to ask about their music, right? He had ordered room service and was sitting there, sulking on his bed. Stefan and Steve had gone out, but he still had a hangover from last night. He had ordered fish, but they had given him a steak knife on his tray. It was sitting there; tempting him. The little grooves were catching the light of the lamp and making them all sparkly. It was like a jewel. But he didn't need jewels, he had plenty of money.

What he needed was to be able to feel again. He hadn't felt anything since the last time, it was like he was numb, every bit of his body featureless without the boundaries, the landmarks that pain brought. He was starting to become his mother, emotionless. It scared him. He needed to feel again. He reached out and picked up the knife. After that, he became addicted to blade. He started buying them wherever he went. Steve and Stefan thought that it was just a hobby; knife collecting, that is. But one day, they noticed Brian hadn't showed up and it was already three o’ clock in the afternoon, far past Brian’s usual midday arrival.

Finally! , they went up to his room to look for him. They found him there, lying in his bed, surrounded by a half a dozen knives. His arms, legs, chest, stomach, and face were covered in cuts and gashes. Stefan went over and took his pulse. "He's alive, but barely. It looks like he's lost a lot of blood." He was shipped immediately to the hospital, where, after three weeks he was fully recovered. But at that point, he wished he had died. Because after the whole ordeal he was forced, against his will to go to a mental asylum. He had begged, claiming that they didn't have to worry about him, he wouldn't do it again. That he had did it for them. He had been able to go on, to make money, to party, to tour. But they didn't listen. So December 13, 2001, he was admitted into the Clairault Hospital’s psychiatric care facility.

<><><>

"Look I don’t need to be here," Brian yelled to the silence in his room. "Don’t you all understand, I’m perfectly fine!"
"That’s why you are screaming into the void." A dark shadow detached itself from the wall. "It helps sometimes but it isn’t going to get you out of here any faster." It was a dark haired, dark eyed child in his mid teens, dressed in shabby khaki’s and a t-shirt that ought to have been thrown out a long time ago.

"Who the fuck are you, brat?" The child raised an equally dark eyebrow.
"Your nightmare." Then he began to giggle showing white teeth that gleamed in the darkness. Brian stepped back, eyeing the child warily. Those huge dark eyes focused on him again, all traces of humour disappearing like drops of water on hot pavement. "I’m kidding buddy. Jeez, looks like you lost your sense of humour a while ago."
"Humph," Brian sat back down on the bed. "I really don’t need to be here, I just can’t convince anyone. I’m fine, I tell you, fine."
"Hey calm dow! n. I think I’m fine too, yet here I am disturbing your rest."

He perched on the end of Brian’s bed, fingers fiddling with the knots at the end of the blanket. "I’m Mitch."
"I—" Brian began but was cut off by vigorous nodding from the other end of the bed.
"Brian Molko. No one can forget a face like that." Brian’s hands automatically went to his face, tracing the jagged ridges where the blades had made their mark. In the process the insides of his wrists were exposed revealing to Mitch the barely healed scars. "A cutter?" He sounded contemptuous. Brian glared at him.
"So what?"
"Nothing that’s all. I had you figured for a topper or maybe a skinny."
"What?"
"Anorexic or suicidal," he explained. "But I guess even I can be wrong."
"Oh," Brian couldn’t think of anything else to say. "Um… What about you? You seem normal to me." At this Mitch cracked up, baying like a hyena.
"Normal!" He gasped before collapsing into laughter again, "Normal!" Brian gave Mitch another death stare.
"What?" He asked again.
"Number one, you never ask for information like that until they are ready to volunteer, secondly, don’t judge by appearances or even by previous conversations. Just remember pretty boy that this isn’t Kansas anymore." How dare he? Brian fumed silently. Condescending to me like that! I’m a celebrity! An important person! He realised the megalomaniacness of his thoughts so he derailed them before the doctors could probe and find out that he had delusions of grandeur to add to the diagnosis.
"Uh huh." Brian grabbed the child by his arm and hauled him off the bed. "Didn’t they warn you about me dearheart?" Brian steadily dragged him towards the door.
"Huh?"
"I’m a fag. I grab little boys like you ! and fuck them blind." He laughed and closed the door on Mitch’s surprised face.

<><><>

The next morning dawned bright and clear unlike him. Brian was about to snuggle back underneath the covers when a cheerful voice told him,
"Get up now so that I can make the bed or I nail your balls to the ceiling." This was said in a perfectly composed voice, it could even be said to be friendly. Brian climbed out, defiantly naked. She didn’t blink an eyelid. "Right then." She moved around him as if he were part of the furniture. Brian felt a bit foolish standing there starkers so he picked up last night’s clothes and put them on. She finished tidying and spared him a look. "You’re meant to be in Group Therapy and you are fifteen minutes late. If I were you I’d get a move on." With that she bustled out of the room without even waiting for a response from him.

Brian managed to gather himself somewhat, gathering up the threads of his composure around him like a well worn jacket, comfortable and smelling of himself. He entered the large airy room where arranged in a circle were a dozen motley characters including the boy from the previous night.
"This is Brian Molko, out newest member." The group leader was a diminutive woman with a flaming red bun that reminded him unpleasantly of his primary school teacher. "Now where were we?" Mitch said into the silence,
"Discussing the distressing nature of silences and what it means to…" Brian switched off instantly. After all, he wasn’t the crazy person here. He was bought out of it some time later by a direct question.
"So Brian what do you think?" Again Brian flashed by to his school days, even the reproving tone was the same.
"Uh, about what exactly?" She launched into a long winded explanation that left Brian wondering if was better to be a ‘topper’ so that he wouldn’t have to ! listen to this shit.

The session finally ended, leaving Brian with the same feeling that he usually got after a press conference except in this case the media vultures had been transformed into head shrinking doctors.
"So what did you think?" Mitch had caught up with him in the corridor.
"Hell boring. We have to do that everyday?"
"Yep. Oh and you didn’t scare me last night with that comment you know." Brian gave Mitch a big grin.
"Yeah but it surprised the fuck out of you didn’t it? I guess you don’t often have people talk back, do you?" Mitch looked rather taken aback.
"Uh, no…" They came to a halt as there was a shaggy man blocking their path. "John this is Brian, say hello." Brian saw the tiny spark of comprehension there before the light blinked abruptly out.
"Hello," he said and shambled off.
"That was John a ex-lollipop holder. Used to work for Roads. You know directing traffic? With a ‘stop’ sign on one side and a ‘go slow’ sign on the other? Anyway one day he was…"

<><><>

"And this is Tonio, the resident slut."

Mitch pointed to a blond boy who was dressed in an old-fashioned dress, complete with frills and bows.

"What’s his problem?"

"His real name’s Andy," Mitch whispered, "But he thinks he’s Tonio Treschi from Cry to Heaven."

"That dress doesn’t do anything for him."

"He doesn’t usually dress like that. He thinks he’s doing a show tonight."

"Oh."

At that moment, the boy turned from talking to a guy who had painted himself with ketchup and turned to the two.

"Hello Mitch," he whispered in a breathy voice, "Who’s your friend?"

"This is Brian."

"Hello Brian. You! know, I’m in here because I killed my father."

"What?"

"Carlo, that was his name. I seduced him and stabbed him to death."

Mitch rolled his eyes.

"Alright, bye Tonio. I think I saw Paolo looking for you?"

"He is? Paolo, I’m coming dear, don’t cry…"

He walked off towards the game room.

"Well, he’s fucked up."

"Don’t mind him. He’s a nice guy, just a bit screwed in the head. Don’t make enemies with him though."

"Why not?"

"Two reasons. He’s an easy lay, though every now and then he’ll call you Guido or Domenico in bed. And he really thinks he’s living in the 1700’s, he’s killed three other patients."

"That little thing?"

"It’s easy. He sits on their laps, ties them up, and slits their throats. We all take the chance though."

Brian shook his head.

"I think I’ll just stay chaste for my time in here."

Mitch looked at him, a sarcastic smile on his face.

"You don’t know how long you have to be here, do you?"

"Why?"

"The minimum sentence is two years."

"How long have you been here?"

"Four years. Since I was 12."

"You used him before?"

"Several times a week."

"And the attendants don’t say anything about that."

Mitch just walked off, not answering him.

"Mitch!"

He didn’t even seem to hear him. Brian rolled his eyes.

"Molko. Time for your bath."

He looked up. It was a big blond woman in one of the white uniforms.

"What’s wrong with his place? I thought the nurses were supposed to be sexy?"

"Come on yo! u little queer."

"Well, that’s good for people’s minds."

She grabbed Brian around the midsection and started dragging him for the door.

"Hey, hey," he cried, trying to squirm away.

He felt like Bugs Bunny in the grip of the snow monster.

<><><>

Brian sat in the tub, sulking. The guy in charge of the bathing poured a cup of water over his head.

"I hate you."

"I hate you too, now close your eyes."

He endured the shampoo being rubbed into his scalp.

"What are you using, a cheese grater?"

"Do you want to be put in the white room?"

"What’s that?"

"That’s where we send all our bad little boys."

"What is it?"

"Never mind that, hopefully we won’t have to send you there. Remember, today is your first so you get a little lenience. Tomorrow, don’t expect it."

Another cup of water followed.

"There, now get going."

"Don’t I get to shave?’

"That’s in the grooming department."

"No, I mean my legs."

"Don’t tell me we have another Tonio on our hands."

"I’m not a lunatic," he huffed. "I’m a famous star."

"That sounds a lot like what Daniel said."

"Daniel?"

"Johns. We treated him for his eating disorder. Awful mess."

"What was?"

"I really shouldn’t be telling you this. If you want to shave, wait until tomorrow. We’ll have to get you a razor."

"Alright, I guess."

He climbed out of the tub and took the towel Ray, the bather, handed him. He found Mitch in front of the mirror with a few other loons, brushing his teeth.

&q! uot;Hey, where’d you go," Mitch asked, spitting out his toothpaste.

"What?"

"Earlier. We were talking and you just disappeared."

He raised his eyebrow.

"Right."

He turned towards the mirror and picked up one of the electric razors.

"I was talking to that guy, Ray, and he mentioned a few things."

"You have Ray? He’s an awful gossip."

"I noticed. What’s the White Room?"

Mitch shivered.

"That’s the place the trouble makers are sent."

"But what is it?"

"It’s a room in the old part of the hospital. Everyone says that it used to be the room they did the electrical shock treatment in. Nobody likes to go there. Even the craziest ones here get scared straight over there. It’s referred to as the White Room because they had to repaint the whole thing white before they could use it again, because the smoke of the frying brains had tinted the walls gray. When you’re in there, they feed you only bread and water and the whole room is black, they don’t have electricity in that section anymore. But the worst part is the ghost."

"The ghost?"

Mitch looked around nervously.

"The attendants don’t like us talking about it, but it’s haunted. There’s an old woman’s ghost there who was said to have died from being over-fried. We call her Eggy, since she was fried like an egg."

"Have you ever been sent there?"

Mitch nodded, looking at the floor.

"Did you see her?"

He nodded again.

"I have to go," he said abruptly.

He rinsed off his toothbrush and scurried away. Brian glanced back after him for a moment, then turned to the mirror to shave.

<><><>

"…and what did you do you che! ating bitch?!!" Another fight erupted on Springer. Brian grabbed the soft ball that they used for a remote and threw it hard against the wall hung TV. The scene changed to a nature documentary. Brian sat back satisfied. The better aim you had the more you got to watch your programs. Brian after a few hours of soap opera and talk shows had discovered a hitherto undiscovered talent for switch hitting. He smiled at the unintentional double entendre.
"A penny." Andy, sorry Tonio gave him a pouty grin. "For your thoughts."
"Switch hitting." Tonio crossed his legs and his skirt rode up further.
"Would you like to turn *me* on?" He leaned forward exposing his pimply chest down the V of his top. Brian grimaced at the unsubtlety as well the grossness of the form in front of him.
"Uh, no. I can’t."
"Why not?" Brian scrambled around for an answer that wouldn’t piss the psycho off. If Mitch’s words were indeed true then—
"I can’t get an erection. Mr. Floppy. It’s the drugs you know."
"Oh, that’s all right sweetie, we’ll do it when you are better, O.K?" Brian breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"Well, sure." Their viewing was interrupted by the arrival of one of the staff.
"Bed. Now." They scattered like blowflies from a disturbed corpse.

It was just hitting him now. He was in a madhouse. Full of crazy, shit smearing, the totally bonkers brigade. And he was here, with them. He remembered Mitch’s run down on the residents. If he were to be believed, (highly unlikely) then there were murderers like Tonio here. But that wasn’t possible. They wouldn’t put killers with people with eating disorders, would they? It didn’t make sense. But then again this was a loony bin, full of people that didn’t make sense. The door suddenly swung open revealing Mitch in all his rag bag glory.
"Hi, Brian. Having troubl! e sleeping?" He said softly, approaching the bed.
"No, now shove off." Mitch perched on the end of Brian’s bed. He pulled up the covers and slid inside, squirming so that eventually he ended up by Brian’s side.

His childish frame was bizarrely turning Brian on, the ribs poking through the adolescent skin like bleached bones of a dead cow in a Western. "What do you want child?" Brian said carefully. Mitch took this as an invitation, his mouth pressing upon Brian’s as an approximation of a kiss.
"No. No. No. I’m sorry Mitch, but I can’t."
"Why not?"
"For one, I would be breaking the law, as you are very much underage."
"That doesn’t mean that I haven’t had sex before! I’ve had sex with heaps of people!"
"Mitch that doesn’t make a difference. I’m not going to, that’s the end of the story."
"What about this though?" Mitch fondled Brian’s erection.
"NO!" Brian pushed him away so violently that Mitch fell off the bed. He stood up, and gave Brian an even look.
"I’ve got a present for you," he said, reaching into his pocket. It was a small pocket knife. He pulled the blade out, the glittering edge sparkling like fairy lights. Brian stared at it, unable to drag his eyes away. He silently reached for it, but Mitch pulled it out of his reach.
"I’ll give it to you, but only if you fuck me." Brian got out of the bed, weighing up his options. Could he stoop so low that the taste of the blade could compel him to lose his morals, even his sanity? Mitch looked at his hungry eyes. "I’ll let you think about it, O.K?"

As he walked out the door, all Brian could think about was the cool climax of breaking skin, the release of poison so intoxicating, so much better than coming. While sex made you feel dirty, another person’s spoor left all over your body, the! knife was sterile, pure, unsullied. What harm could it do if he slept with Mitch, it wasn’t as if he was unwilling. It wouldn’t be rape as he had consented. Brian pushed the other side of the argument out of his brain. He needed to cut.

He opened Mitch’s door, mind filled with one thought. Release.



Mitch was reading when Brian entered the room. He looked like a big kid, curled up within his quilt, his cheek resting on his hand. A large children’s book lay in front of him and he seemed deeply engrossed. It was such a sweet image, until he realized that he wasn’t actually reading that book. He was reading a small, thicker book on top of it. One he recognized. The top of the book read page 158--Exquisite Corpse. He’d read that book enough to know that it probably wasn’t a good sign. Especially with that boy breathing heavily like that. He was turned on by what he was reading.

"You like that shit?"

"One of the best books ever written," he replied, not glancing up.

His head turned towards the other page and there was a moment of silence. Finally, he closed both the books and set them under his pillow. A small smile played on his lips.

"I love that part, it’s so sweet."

"Why did you have a children’s book?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Isn’t it obvious, in case the nurses come in. They wouldn’t allow me to read it, so I just pretend I’m reading this one."

He held up the large children’s book labeled "The First Dog".

"It works great since its hardcover."

"I’ll have to remember that."

"Anyway, what’s up?"

"I was thinking about your offer."

He nodded and patted the bed beside him. Brian took a seat next to him, his back to the boy. He encircled his arms around his waist and pressed hi! s cheek to his lower back.

"Did you make a decision?"

"I wanna do it?"

"Why? Because you love me, or you want the knife?"

"Because I want the knife," he spoke softly.

"Good, because I don’t love you either. But I love your body. So gashed and pale, just like a corpse. A warm, yielding corpse."

Brian paled at the statement but allowed himself to be pushed down into the sheets. The boy grasped his wrist and held them over his head. Cold lips found the arch of his throat.

"Let’s get this straight, if you want your precious blade, you’re going to be submissive to me, okay?

Brian looked over at the jackknife sitting on the bedside table, and nodded.



Mitch dozed in Brian’s arms after their activities, sweaty and sticky. His breath had calmed to an even rise and fall of his stomach. His arms were wrapped loosely around Brian’s midsection. Brian just lay there, staring at the knife on the table. He was just thankful it was closed, or he wasn’t sure if he could endure the torture.

"You want it, don’t you?"

He didn’t even realize Mitch was awake. He nodded guiltily.

"That’s fine."

He reached over and took it from the bed stand and passed it to Brian. He switched it open and looked at the blade. Mitch noticed the flash of tongue graze along Brian’s swollen lips. Brian ran his thumb over the blade, testing the sharpness. A droplet of blood oozed out, reminding him of his first time. He wanted to prolong the experience, but just couldn’t stand to wait another second. He pulled back his sleeve, exposing several worn scars. A small grimace crossed his face as the blade bit through his first piece of flesh in over a week. He had cut harder then he had meant to, overcome with anxiety. Mitch took his arm and brought it to his lips, licking the seeping blood! with a stroke of his tongue. He let him go and rested his head on Brian’s shoulder.

"I’m a necrophiliac."

"What?"

"You wondered what I was in for, that was it. I used to have sex with dead bodies."

"You’re kidding?"

"I didn’t kill them, I grew up with them. My parents owned a funeral home."

"How, how did you get into that," Brian asked, pulling away from the boy. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself. "You were fucking twelve years old."

He lay back, looking up at the ceiling. His hand crossed over his chest.

"My brother got me into it. I have an older brother, his name’s Blake; he’d be 20 now. When I was younger he’d fuck me, because I begged him. But one day he said he had something he wanted to show me. He led me to the room where Mother made up the bodies for the funeral. There were two there, a man and his kid brother. They had died in a car accident, but neither of them were hurt. They died of a gas leak, so it looked like they were asleep. Blake went over to the man’s body; he was naked. Mother and father were gone for a few hours and you could say she was waiting for them to thaw out. And Blake actually dropped his pants, parted the man’s legs, and fucked him. I didn’t know why, but it turned me on. So I did it to the boy."

"That’s—"

"Don’t say anything. It’s just, you asked, so I answered."

Brian had backed against the door; his back was pressed against cold wood.

"Go ahead, leave if you want."

Despite his repulsion, he quickly grabbed the knife off the quilt and raced from the room. The moment he ran out, he bumped right into a slight figure. The boy fell with an "oof". It was Tonio. He sat there for a moment, looking up at Brian angrily. He climbed to his feet and started dusti! ng himself off.

"So, you’re too limp to fuck, huh?"

He slapped Brian across the face.

"What were you doing in Mitch’s room? He’s my bitch. I should kill you, you little cunt!"

He leapt at Brian and began pulling his hair.

"Hey, get off me, you little pussy!"

"Pussy? PUSSY?! I’ll show you!"

A hand reached in the bust of the dress he wore, and pulled out a small jackknife. Before he could open it, Brian jumped forward and jammed his own right into Tonio’s throat. His eyes bulged and he grabbed at it, trying to dislodge it from his flesh. Too late, he fell back with an awful thud. At that moment, a nurse appeared in the hall.


"No, don’t make me stay here," Brian screamed, running into the door.

It was impossible for him to knock, considering his hands were tied behind his back in the straightjacket. He decided to not try that again, this room wasn’t padded. He looked around the room. There was nothing at all. All it was, was a dark room with white walls. Right away he knew what they had done to him, they had put him in the white room.

<><><>

He struggled to sit up. They had just shoved him in there, so that he had fallen where he had landed. He leaned against the wall, eyes filled with whiteness, mind filled with blood. His mouth was dry from the stuff they had injected, making him feel woozy and sick. In short, Brian was not a happy camper. Please God, not that you’ve done anything for me lately, help me get out of this. I don’t want to see anything—He shut his eyes, letting the darkness soothe him into some sort of calm. I am not sensing vibrations of any sort. There are no ghosts here. This is a modern hospital with no stray bodies lying around. His mouth pulled into a faint smile. Except for the ones that I create. Then all of a sudden he was laughing as if someone had said s! omething really funny.

There came a loud knock on the door,
"Shut the fuck up, you dickweed pansy, or—"
"Or what, you’ll put me in here?" Silence from the other side of the door. Shuffling footsteps indicated that the orderly was leaving. Somehow that little interaction (if it could be called that) had helped him to realise that there was stuff outside of his prison, that he wasn’t alone. Why that should matter at this late stage in the game failed to make sense to him. He didn’t need company, he didn’t need sex, he needed to cut. And if they had left him alone to do that, there wouldn’t be a body cluttering up the picture. These places are designed to make people crazier.

His mind went back to the instant when the knife had penetrated Tonio’s throat, like a penis sinking into willing wet flesh. He brought it out to comfort himself, like an old lady’s scrapbook of memories. He could admit to himself that he had enjoyed it, that it had felt incredibly good to take action in a physical sense. Could it be that his unwilling subjugation to Mitch had had something to do with it? But then again he wouldn’t have done anything if Tonio hadn’t leapt at him waving that knife, it was purely self defence – even if he had enjoyed it…

<><><>

She is lying on black velvet, white flesh a starling, erotic contrast. She has her eyes closed, pink mouth open slightly. Her lips look like they are made of candy, Brian just wants to lick the contours to see if they taste sugar sweet. Her eyes open, the liquid green melting into the mint colored eye-makeup. Brian doesn’t know if he wants to be her or to fuck her. In the end he decides to do the latter, figuring that it would be easier. He takes his trousers off, his cock emerges tip seeping clear fluid. He slips it into her, but then realises that her vagina posses a set of very sharp teeth that are now nibbling on his genital! ia. Somehow this doesn’t bother him at all, in fact it is quite pleasurable even when she completely chews it off. He gazes at the bloody hole blankly, hoping that it would start hurting, but it doesn’t. His eyes fill with tears, dripping silently down his cheeks, streaking his foundation.

He opened his eyes. His wrist was sore from where he had cut himself, it was the only thing that was anchoring him to this reality. He remembered the dream, the woman—the mutilation. He realised that he didn’t need a knife to cut, not when he has got teeth to pull apart the fragile skin of his wrists. He waits calmly, knowing that they would eventually come to get him out of here. Mitch had been put in here once, and he was out now. There was hope, all he had to was wait. The hours stretch, bubble gum strings interspersed by the odd thought. At one point he could swear that there was someone lying next to him. She smelled like crushed flowers, with an smoky undertone that reminded him of cigarettes but more overwhelming. A soft kiss on his forehead, "It’ll be allright, sweetie," and she was gone.

<><><>

He awoke with the faint light of dawn creeping across his lids. He sighed, he was back in his own room. The events of the last few days (he couldn’t remember how many) seemed awfully distant, as if he was watching someone else’s life from a god’s eye view. Mitch snuck in grinning from ear to ear.
"Morning Brian."
"Mitch."
"Did you have a good time in there?" Brian tried to figure out Mitch’s expression. He didn’t know if the boy was being facetious.
"Well, yes I did. I think I got to have sex with Eggy, she was a fucking good lay." Mitch’s eyes widened.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"I was joking when I told you about her…"
"Yeah right, that’s why I woke up with my knickers crusted with dried come.&! quot;
"Hey," Mitch shrugged, "whatever lights your candle, buddy."
"What happened to—"
"Tonio? He’s um, very dead. But they are putting it down as self defence, cause he went for you first."
"Did you fuck him?"
"Before or after?"
"After!" Brian waited for Mitch’s answer. Somehow there was a indefinable something that would be changed depending on this question, if only he knew what exactly…

"Not yet."

"What does that mean?"

"I haven’t gotten a chance to get to the morgue, besides, I wanted you to come with me."

Brian looked like he was about to vomit. Mitch lay down beside Brian, his head resting on his shoulder. He played with Brian’s collar thoughtfully.

"You want me to come with you?"

He nodded and took Brian’s hand lovingly.

"Tonight, we’ll sneak out after the streetlights go out. It’s actually considered morning since the first birds are chirping. But nobody will be up for at least two hours."

"Why do you want me come?"

Mitch looked startled.

"Well, I thought that was obvious. I want you to watch me."

"Watch you?"

Mitch took Brian’s hand and kissed the palm. Brian slid is hand over the pale flesh and cradled his cheek.

"Yes," Mitch whispered, "Watch me. I want you to see it. Don’t be turned off, all corpses look beautiful, even if they weren’t while alive. Even Tonio will, I promise."

"He’s been sitting there for what, three, four days?"

"He was kept cool. Besides, that’s the best time, except for right after death. They’re over the stiffness and just soft, very soft. You’ll like it, I promise. Besides, I managed the get the knife as the nurse dragged you off."
"What?"

"Both of them actually, your’s and Tonio’s. Let me guess, you’ve discovered your teeth, you don’t need them anymore. That’s what every cutter in here as said, and they were all proved wrong. You know the teeth are comfort, but you also know they’re now the same as a blade. They leave bruises, not slices. They’re not sharp, they’re not pure. They’re not enticing."

"How do you know this?"

"Oh hun, I’ve seen a million patients here in my life. They come, they endure their time, and they leave. They leave, thinking they’re happy and normal on their meds. Never mind the fact that their meds change who they are. Our minds were meant to be one way. Our genes and chromosomes and nerve endings tell us how we’re supposed to be. But these doctors, they change how they work. They dull them, they make them obsolete. But we’re not supposed to be ruled by plants, the very things these Meds are made of. We’re not. If we were, there would be giant tulips and roses walking around with whips. But they don’t care, as long as we’re behaving as they wish. I won’t do it Brian, I won’t change who I am. I won’t be made a zombie. I won’t let them control my mind. I won’t let them change my very inner being and personality."

"Mitch, Mitch, it’s alright. I’m not trying to make you change pills; it’s me, Brian. We’re in here together, remember?"

Mitch looked up into Brian’s face, tears glazing his eyes.

"Brian?"

He hugged him with a fierce grip.

"Brian, I want out of here. I want out, I feel so claustrophobic."

"When are you allowed to leave?"

"When I start taking my pills. But what’s the use of being free, if you can’t actually live? I’d rather stay in this building until I die than not be abl! e to think for myself. Brian, promise me something."

"Anything," Brian murmured, rubbing the sobbing boy’s back. He could feel the sharp bones of his spine protruding.

"If you’re stick here when I die, or you somehow know. Before they bury me, I want you to fuck my dead body."

"What!?"

"You heard me. I want you to fuck my dead body."

"But, but why?"

"Several reasons. I want to see if I can feel it for one. But mostly, I just need it. Promise me."

"I promise."

"Thank you."

He burrowed his face in Brian’s shoulder and just laid there, breathing. Brian held the sack of bones close to him. He could feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest; it wasn’t hard when there was hardly anything separating them.

"Imm llk"

"What was that?"

He pulled back a bit, sniffling.

"I said I miss Blake. I waited for him. For the first three days, I sat up all night, thinking he’d come rescue me. But I realized he wouldn’t. So I continued waiting, just for him to visit me. I was his brother; he had said he’d loved me. Of course he’d visit me. I mad a vow to myself; I’d eat only enough to sustain myself until he came. It was hard at first; I was the kind of kid who loved to eat. So I waited. First a week, than a month, than my first birthday in here, than a year, then two. And now four. He’s never came to see me Brian, he’s never came. I’ve written to him, every day since I was put in here. Mom would send them back to me with an attached letter, and every time it said the same thing. The exact same thing. She must’ve just printed it up by the mass. They always said my brother didn’t want to speak to me. And every day I get another one, and every day another piece of my heart is taken away. I loved him Brian, I loved him! more than anything in the world. And he turned his back on me. Mother and Father I didn’t care about, but Blake. He was my brother, he was my teacher, he was my lover."

"It’s alright sweetie, don’t cry."

Mitch buried his face in Brian’s shoulder again, which was by now very wet.

"Will you come with me tonight?"

"Yes, I’ll come."

<><><>

Of course they had to get rid of the security guard, a job that they accomplished in tandem. Brian sucked him off while Mitch bashed him over the head with a pot plant. It was so hilariously simple that Brian had to wonder about the hospital’s security. When he mentioned escape to Mitch however that he discovered that would not be as easy as he had previously thought. While Mitch’s trusty Red Cross donor card could open any locks within the hospital, he couldn’t open the outer doors. Then they did it. Afterwards Brian couldn’t tell whether he had enjoyed it or if it had revolted him. He pushed it to the back of his mind like so many of the things he had done and endured since coming to this place.

Since being admitted, he had lost touch with the essential (sane?) bits of his brain, it was as if there was someone else controlling his actions. And what about this boy Mitch? A fifteen year old for god’s sake. A fifteen year old that had him firmly enthralled. Mitch was everything that Brian had wanted, the passion, the understanding, the flaws. He was also crazy necrophiliac. Brian flashed back to Mitch hugging Tonio’s body, caressing the frosted skin, stroking the ice rimed eyelashes. It was beautiful in a bizarre way, not only because of the dead body, but the aching unfinished frame of Mitch’s own.

The following night Mitch again slipped into Brian’s room.
"I’ve got a treat for you sweetie," he said pulling out a plastic tray of strawberry cheesecake. He jumpe! d onto the bed, grinning at Brian’s pleased expression.
"Necrophilia on the first date and cheesecake on the second? I must say that you are one of the most unpredictable—"
"Mmm," Mitch leaned over taking the tray out of Brian’s hands and kissing the strawberry flavoured mouth. "Artificial plastic goodness…"
"Nothing is made from real fruits anymore. For example, the world’s yield of strawberries would only last for one city’s strawberry ice cream consumption."
"Oh," Mitch raised an eloquent eyebrow. "Intelligence turns me on…"
"The BBC news presenters turn me on." Brian smiled wickedly. "Today in Istanbul the…" he said with very proper accent.
"Oh!" Mitch gave him a surprised look. "Why don’t you speak like that more often?"
"’Cause it makes me sound as if I’ve got a broomstick up my arse!"
"Speaking of arses…"

Ray the orderly was apparently in a chatty mood.
"So you got rid of Tonio, eh? Damn shame, that boy was good at sucking cock. The best." He shut his eyes and his blissful smile reminded Brian of a cow being milked. Bovine and stupid. "So are you any good?"
"What?"
"At cock sucking. I thought it was the first thing that they learned at fag school. Other that being fanny fed when their mam’s were meant to be breast feeding."
"I—" Ray grabbed his dick, fondling it.
"It’s pretty small isn’t it? How do you fuck someone with that little piece of meat? They wouldn’t be able to feel a damn thing!"
"What Ray, did you want to find out?" Brian challenged.
"Nah, I get that from my missus." He laughed. "Now that woman has got balls! But I wouldn’t mind a taste of what that pretty mouth of yours can do. I hear that your are giving that Mitch boy so! me. Tell you what if ever there was a boy that was hungry for some arse-fucking…"

Mitch came up behind Brian.
"You were saying, Ray?" He said in a cold voice that Brian wouldn’t have dared to mess with.
"Nothing, nothing. Just were doing my job." Brian realised that Ray was afraid of Mitch. But afraid of a fifteen year old boy? What must he have done to make the orderly so afraid? If you worked in these places often enough you wouldn’t be bothered with a little bit of plain old craziness. Would you?

<><><>




Mitch had already left that night when Brian was sitting up, staring at a painting of Starry Night. It reminded him of his life. Darkness, except for occasional swirls of light that swirled around each other until he ended up more confused and depressed then he had begun. There was no definite end, just swirls and tangles. Why the hell would they put a painting like that in an asylum? Shouldn’t it have been something simple and organized, like a bowl of fruit?

"I bet nobody would’ve sent Van Gogh to an asylum for being a cutter," he whispered miserably.

Nevertheless, he just sat there staring at the painting for what seemed like hours. The blanket was wrapped around him like a woman, wrapped around his chest under his armpits like he was trying to hide the breasts he didn’t have. He actually did feel a bit like a woman, a submissive one that is. He was still sore from where him and Mitch had-- What had they done? Would it be fucking? Making love? He didn’t know. He loved it, he knew that much. But what did Mitch think about it? He never mentioned their nights, it was like it didn’t even happen. But his actions weren’t so meek. He was aggressive.

‘Too aggressive’, Brian thought while rubbing his sore wrist.

Mitch liked to be the dominant; he wouldn’t allow it any other way. That didn’t limit i! t to the top either. That meant everything he did, he wanted to dominate Brian in the action. Maybe even out of bed, now that he thought of it. But Brian couldn’t think of an occasion where he had been anything but equal. But in bed, he was rough. He liked to grab Brian’s wrist and pin him down so he couldn’t escape, not that he wanted to. He liked to talk dirty to him, calling him his bitch and his whore. One of his favorite, though certainly not Brian’s, was physical pain. This included punching, slapping, scratching, and hair pulling, on his head only, thankfully. It didn’t seem he was ever aware of it, but his back was streaked with bloody scratches after each session. That was why he didn’t quite feel up to lying down. What did he want of him? He knew what he wanted, he wanted a corpse. A placid lump of flesh that allowed what he wished and could never leave. He knew that was why he came to him originally came to him. Cut up as he was with his pale skin, of course he resembled a dead body. Well, he’d just have to get used to him, ALIVE. He rolled over onto his side and willed his mind into empty blankness.

Mitch sat at the breakfast table, pushing around his food absently. He was deep in thought, he didn’t even notice when Brian took a seat next to him. Brian looked down at Mitch’s plate. Everything still there; the eggs, bacon, orange. Half his orange juice was gone and two bites from his toast. Brian set a hand on his shoulders, feeling the bones jutting out.

"Go ahead, eat."

He looked up, startled, then shook his head.

"You know I can’t, not until Blake comes."

"But he’s never coming."

"I know that."

"Then why—"

"Brian, stop it."

He paused, "I was just--"

"I know."

He reached out a hand, touching Brian’s cheek. He was cold, he always was. It was ! because he had no meat on his bones. The raggy clothing didn’t help.

"Are you done eating?"

Brian looked down at the full plate.

"Why?"

"I got a present for you."

"What’s that?"

"Your first necrophilia fuck."

"WHAT?!"

Mitch slapped a hand over his mouth, quieting him.

"Ray, I hid him in the courtyard in the tool shed. Eat well, I’m going to teach you when we get our recess."


"But I don’t want to!" Brian hissed back. "I may want you but that doesn’t mean that I want the odd dead body you manage to scrounge up!"
"If you really want me then you’ll do this for me."
"Listen kid," Brian gave him an amused look, "I’ve been there and done that and frankly I’ve met people that could do emotional blackmail. You are not one of them."
"Fine. I’ll have him all to myself."
"You do that sweetie, Ray wasn’t that attractive anyway. Not my type."
"What is your type then, Brian, young boys?" Brian pulled away from him hurt. It was something that had been plaguing him ever since they’d begun this—thing—what ever it was. Now to have it thrown back into his face like that—

Brian hid in the corner of the communal ‘social’ room, ignoring the others. He had his feet curled underneath him, arms folded across his chest. What was the attraction that death and the physical manifestation of it, the bodies, had for some people anyway? Was it the unresisting, unresponsive nature of their partners? If they could be called partners? The word ‘partner’ conjured up images of equality but how can you achieve equality with a corpse? Maybe that was it, the very fact that the person you were (fucking/in love with?) could be dominated as they were lacking the essential humanity! , the very ‘soul’ that made people love and commit to each other. Brian couldn’t understand it. How could you ever give yourself to someone (something) that fails to respond?

It bothered him that he couldn’t work out the enigma that was Mitch. He decided to tally up all the known facts about him. Firstly he was a fifteen year old kid. Is that why he likes dead bodies? But that shouldn’t have any bearing on the situation. It was true that most people are hard wired at an early age to the sexual proclivities and styles that they are doomed to repeat until their death. But that didn’t make sense, it didn’t explain why Mitch did anything really. Secondly he was a necrophiliac and murderer. Brian stopped and pondered that. He didn’t know if Mitch had killed Ray. Ray might not even *be* dead. He had only Mitch’s word for the truth of those statements.

Then there was his brother. The ever present Blake. Well, in sprit anyway. Brian could tell that there was some history between the two, had he been abused more ways than he’d ever dare to tell him? Somehow the thought aroused him, his trousers tightening at the images that flooded his brain. Mitch playing the ‘bottom’ for once, a big sweaty man that resembled him on top, pushing inside the resisting body. Mitch’s foul mouth filled with a big cock, the man’s eyes shut, hands gripping his hair. Mitch’s cheeks bulging with come (somehow Brian thought that Blake would one of those guys that produced a lot of come, as a sign of his power and virility.) Brian hurriedly got up and made his way self consciously to his room.

Once inside he pulled out his dick, fingers only stroking the hard flesh at first, then his palm gripping the sensitive inside of the shaft pulling harder. He didn’t hear the door open but there Mitch was, framed against the pale white-washed wall. He came towards Brian, his moves liquid, his clothing disappearing. Mitch took him into his mou! th (so like his fantasy!) and began sucking at it delicately. Then suddenly there was a horrible cramping pain where his mouth was and looking down he saw Mitch, lips bloodied.
"Do you know what I’ve done Brian?" Mitch asked softly. "I’ve nipped at your frenulum. Which is the bit of skin underneath your dick that attaches your penis to your body. It is said to be very pleasurable…" Brian looked into those dark eyes and believed him utterly. Unexpectedly he was there, the warm jets of come splattering onto Mitch’s upturned face.

Brian got dressed and followed Mitch outside. Was it because in this modern world the only way to reassure yourself that the deadness of feeling inside was only assuaged by sleeping with the dead?

The first thing Brian noticed about the body was how dead he looked. Yes, Tonio had looked dead. Especially with those blue lips and frosted skin. But Ray was different. Tonio had been fixed up. The skin at his throat had been stitched back together, and had been made-up so it was almost invisible. But Ray looked as fresh as a deer hung from a meat hook. He was tied up by his hands from one of the rafters. There was a slash right down his chest and belly. It was gaping open, with signs of muscle tissue exposed. Mitch approached Ray and placed his lips to Ray's, an act so natural that Brian almost forgot what he was here for. Mitch ran his hand down Ray's middle, soaking his finger in decaying blood. He brought his hand to is lips and sucked on his fingers. Brian watched, thinking that Mitch resembled a porn star when he did that. Except for the fact he acted more like he was licking barbecue sauce from his fingers then blood.

"Don't be scared. I mean, he can't hurt you."

He ran his fingers through Ray's hair, then suddenly gripped, pulling out a clump. He let the silky black locks fall to the ground.

"See, no resisting."

He took Brian's hand and pulled him close. H! e made him touch him. First, just his arm, then running his fingers down Ray's smooth back.

"Ray was an asshole in real life, but he makes a beautiful corpse."

Brian had to admit that. But of course, Ray had been beautiful before taken by death also. The only difference now being he was a shade or two paler. He still had the same raven hair and liquid brown eyes. Though they were glazed with a small layer of film. He let his hand graze his hip, no opposing. Mitch smiled at seeing him harden.

"Do it Brian, he won't say anything."

He smiled to himself like it was a joke, which it was in a way. Mitch dropped to his knees and started fondling the limp mound of flesh.

"What are you doing," Brian whispered.

"What does it look like?"

He drew the dick in his mouth, running his tongue around the bloodied tip. Brian looked down at the hole before him, he always did wanna try a dry fuck, but none of his partners went for it. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, or one dick in his case. He gripped Ray's hips, leaving indentations as he forced his way in. Holy fuck, he actually felt good. Mitch was looking up at him, his head resting on Ray's belly. He had such an intense expression on his face, that Brian almost felt scared. He couldn't explain it, he couldn't read what was on his face. It could be anything from love to jealousy to hate. Mitch climbed to his feet, looking like a colt on his lanky legs, and kissed Brian. He tasted blood on his lips. The salty taste made him come instantly. The come was released into bloodied intestines, he was almost shocked that it didn't start seeping out the front. He laid against Ray's shoulders, wondering what he could say to Mitch. He was speechless.

"MOLKO! VISITOR!"

<><><>

"Geez Brian, you're messy."

He looked down at himself. He was a little mussed from his activities. He shrugged an! d grinned at Stefan.

"Where's Steve?"

"He's not allowed to come. His kid's mother thinks it'd be bad for their daughter, right."

Brian rolled his eyes and gestured to the bed.

"Take a seat."

Stefan looked a bit nervous.

"Are there murderers here?"

"A few, one of them is my friend."

"What?"

"He's getting a drink right now, I'll introduce you when he comes back. He always comes to my room."

"Umm, so how's life?"

He shrugged.

"Still living."

"So I see. Where'd this blood come from?"

He looked down at his shirt, it was spotted with bits of Ray.

"Look where we are, everybody's looney here."

"I was talking to the owner the other day, he says you're not getting any better."

"I know."

"He says that he'd recommend you signing a contract to be in here 5 years."

"Of course he'd say that, he get paid for me being here. Stef, I'm not doing it."

"I just want you to get well."

"I know that, and I will, on my own. I just need a vacation, and I think it'd work a hell of a lot better at home."

He curled up to Stefan's side, resting his cheek on his shoulder.

"I miss being at home so much, it's horrible here. I get lonely and scared."

"It's gonna be okay honey, I promise."

The door opened and in walked a scrawny, pale, punky looking kid.

"Mitch, come here. I want you to meet Stefan."

He shugged and took a seat beside Brian. He looked angry for some reason, but wasn't saying anything. He sat next to Brian, glaring at Stefan.

"Are you gay?"

"What?"

"Are you gay? If you're here to take Brian, you can't have him! , he's mine."

He grabbed Brian's arm and pulled him roughly from Stefan's arms.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Brian, are you dating this, this minor?"

He looked between the two. Mitch looked homicidal, Stefan looked worried. He bit his lip.

"I wouldn't call it dating..."

"You are, aren't you? Fucking Christ Brian! That's child molestation."

"It doesn't concern you fuck head," Mitch growled.

He pushed Brian away and stood in front of Stefan, his hands at his hips.

"Mitch, don't. He's my friend."

He shot a look at Brian.

"Get out of here, now, before I kill you. And don't come back, Brian's mine."

Stefan looked over at Brian, who looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"Go, I'll call you later. I don't want a fight."

<><><>

Brian looked at Mitch, through blurry teary eyes.
"What the hell did you so that for?"
"Do what?" Mitch did innocent but Brian wasn’t falling for it.
"Kill Stefan. Why for god’s sake did you kill Stefan?!" Brian lunged at Mitch bringing him down on the floor. He wrapped his fingers into the soft flesh at his throat, digging in viciously. Mitch made protesting noises, as he continued to struggle underneath him. "He kept me sane all these years and he was my friend for god’s sake! Why did you kill Stefan you dirty little whore, huh? So you could hurt me is that it? So you poke me and see how I react? Well, you’ve got a reaction now—are you happy about that—Are you?" Brian shook Mitch’s limp body by the neck like a dog worrying at a piece of fresh meat with his paws. Finally getting no response from Mitch, Brian let go, gazing helplessly at the boy. Had he killed him? Or was he just faking so that Brian would let him go?

Brian scrambled! up off the floor and ran out of the room. He knew what he needed most and he knew where to find it. He pulled the door to Mitch’s room open, and made straight for the drawer. He pulled out the first one, finding nothing but underpants. In the second one he found magazines. He tossed them away, he wasn’t here for them. As he threw the last one away, it fell open on a crumpled centrefold. It was a toddler, with a table fork sticking obscenely out of it’s bottom. Brian looked away revolted. How could people do this? He managed to clear the second drawer coming away empty handed. There it was in the last one, a small jacknife nestled in a
bed of worn t-shirts. Brian grabbed it and moved to the bed. At last, he could cut.

It was delicious. The skin separating, letting out all the pain, the poisons in his bloodstream seeping out with each shallow slash. The tears still streamed down his face. Stefan, oh Stefan. The morning paper had eventually made its way to Brian at breakfast. Brian had happily flipped it open to peruse the events that happened outside the hospital (somehow it seemed so far away from the reality of his stay here) and there it was, Stefan was dead. Killed in a road accident not far away from the hospital. There had been another car involved but the driver had driven away without even calling the police. Brian could see Mitch’s hand in it straightaway. The look that he had given Stefan yesterday, the hatred and jealousy in his eyes… Yes, Brian could well imagine Mitch doing this.

Brian pulled up the material of his trousers, hitching them up so that he could apply the edge of the knife to the insides of his ankles. Mitch pushed open the door and crawled towards him. Brian stared at him open mouthed. He had really thought he’d killed him. Mitch looked at him from under wet eyelashes.
"I didn’t do it, Brian," he said, his voice a croak. "I don’t know who it was, but it wasn’t me!"
"I don’t! want to hear it," Brian said coldly. "You are the biggest liar that I’ve ever met."
"Look listen to some reason. If I could get out of here at anytime don’t you think that I would? I’d be out of here before anyone could stop me. I dream of the day that I can…but as I was saying it couldn’t have been me. I’m locked in here with the rest of you. I don’t have special powers that lets me leave at will." He had a point, Brian thought wearily. But although Mitch had been here all the time it didn’t necessarily mean that he hadn’t been involved. He could have called someone to run into Stefan.

Brian ignored Mitch and continued to cut the pale skin of his legs. Mitch levered himself off the floor and collapsed on the bed next to Brian.
"I’m sorry but I didn’t do it." Mitch kissed the bloody skin. He gazed at Brian pleadingly, mouth marred by the redness of Brian’s blood. "I really didn’t." Brian looked at Mitch was he knew he hadn’t. He couldn’t explain why he believed him now. Maybe it was Mitch’s open expression, allowing Brian to finally get a glimpse of the inner workings of his mind. He could see the pain and surprisingly the hunger. But what is he hungry for? Mitch inched towards him, slowly approaching him. He tentatively placed a finger on the pulse at Brian’s throat. He kissed the spot, lips feather light.

He slowly undressed Brian, taking off the t-shirt half way so that Brian’s arms were still tangled in the sleeves of his shirt. He pulled off his trousers, revealing a pair of silky lace undies, his erection tenting the fabric. Mitch bit the edge of the delicate fabric pulling it down with his teeth. Brian moaned as the material brushed roughly against his sensitive skin. Why is he doing this thought Brian warily. He probably wants something. Mitch never does anything without having at least a dozen ulterior motives. Mitch’s tongue str! oked a wet line down Brian’s cock, then back up again. He suddenly took Brian in completely, leaving him gasping at the feel of the wet hot tunnel of flesh enveloping him so fully. Brian’s eyes rolled back, his breathing shallow. Mitch wasn’t subtle about sucking him off, his motions more of an attack than a caress. When Brian came a few minutes later, that also felt like an assault as if he was doing violence to the young body that was so *hungry*, so desperate for him.

Brian didn't know if he could trust him or not. He was lying, there was no other alternative. Who else would want to hurt Stef, innocent Stef. He never did anything to anyone. Well, maybe that wasn't quite true, but he always bought them a beer to make up for those broken noses. He had no enemies. He looked down at Mitch. He lay beside him, breathing evenly in his sleep. He looked so innocent like that, of course, he wasn't really. It reminded him of the little girl next door he used to have a crush on.

He was eight years old and had saved for two weeks to buy her a chocolate bar, the best kind. The fancy looking kind with fake ribbon and dark chocolate. But as he entered her backyard. he heard this weird squealing sound. He knew she was in the garden, she always was. She loved the animals, she was the sensitive type. Always wearing little yellow sun dresses with yellow ribbons in her matching hair. But when he stepped back through the gates, he caught the sight of blood splattering and the little girl smashing the body of a small white cat against a rock. She'd just smiled at him innocently and stated in a naive voice, "Mommy said I couldn't get a puppy because I had Fluffy."

Needless to say, that puppy love didn't last long. He had returned home instantly and cried for the rest of the night. Could Mitch really be that little girl in disguise? You never knew. He slipped from between the sheets and grabbed a fresh pair of clothes. Nobody was around. He heard laughing from the "e! ntertainment" room and realized it was Teletubby time, no wonder. He walked over to one of the nurses. She was a newer one and not as mean as the others.

"Shirley."

"What do you want Brian?"

"Did Mitch use any of his tokens on a phone call lately?"

Tokens were the form of money used in the asylum. It was a way to keep the patients from misbehaving. If they behaved all day, they would be rewarded with one token. If not, they just didn't get one. It took five tokens to use the phone, three for an extra dessert, sixty-five to go out on the town with a loved one for a few hours.

"Mitch doesn't have any tokens Brian. He doesn't receive them since he doesn't take his pills."

"Oh."

Brian looked back at the door. Mitch was standing there, leaning against the door, hugging himself. Shirley went on to the entertainment room, leaving the two alone.

"Do you believe me now," Mitch asked in a soft voice.

Brian felt his cheeks redden in shame.

"I just..."

"It's alright. Come back into the room."

There was a sad tinge to his voice. It must've been awful growing up in a place with no family, no friends, without being able to trust anyone.

"Mitch?"

"Yes Brian?"

He felt his shirt being unbuttoned. It landed on the floor next to their feet.

"What was your first Christmas like here?"

He stopped, his lips millimeters from making contact with Brian's skin.

"What?"

"Your first Christmas here. Tell me about it."

"Well, we don't celebrate holidays here. You know, because some people are Hindu and some Jewish and such, so we just don't do anything."

"Did you get anything for Christmas?"

"Why all the questions?"

"Mitch, you never tell me a! nything about yourself. Hardly ever, I don't know anything about you except your weird fetishes."

"Stop it."

"I just want you to tell me about yourself."

"I didn't kill your friend Brian, listen to me. It's the truth."

"I just want to know about you. Your likes, your family, your fears."

"I don't wanna talk! I wanna fuck!"

"Well, I don't!"

"I DO!"

"I DON'T!"

Before Brian knew what had happened, he reached out a hand and slapped the boy across the boys face. His eyes widened as the action occurred. A small line of blood appeared on left cheek where his ring had cut into his flesh. Mitch reached up, touching his cheek. He looked at the blood on his hand. With a scream, he leapt at Brian.

"You fucking bastard!"

For a scrawny kid, he tackled pretty hard. Mitch grabbed Brian's head and began banging it against the ground.

"Get off me," Brian screeched, pulling at Mitch's hair. He pulled out a clump near the neck but it didn't seem to faze him.

"I hate you!"

Brian closed his eyes and tried to shield himself from the abuse. Suddenly, the pressure on his stomach was gone along with the abuse. He peeked open a cautious eye. Two male nurses were strapping a straightjacket onto Mitch.

"Come on you stupid fuck, I thought you learned your lesson last time."

"No, please, I'll be good," Mitch pleaded, fighting desperately.

Having him secured in the white cloth, one of the men walked over to Brian and crouched beside him.

"Do you need to see the doctor?"

He ignored him, watching Mitch. The other man was trying to lead him away, but Mitch was fighting like a captured cheetah.

"Don't let them take me Brian," he pleaded, fighting as hard as he could, his arms pulled behind h! im in an uncomfortable position.

He was tugged out the door by the large man. He heard the thump of his bony body against the hallway wall, then followed by hollers of protest.

"Well?"

He looked at the man.

"No, no. I'm fine. I just wanna lie down."

<><><>

Several days later, Mitch was led back to his room. Somehow both paler and skinnier then he was before. Brian waited until the guys were gone, then walked into his room.

"Hey."

Mitch looked up. He was sitting up in bed, hugging his knees.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What for?"

"For blowing up at you, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay Mitch, you didn't hurt me."

"Blake always said I acted without thinking, he was right you know. That's why I'm in here and he's not. He always told me to wait for him to fuck anybody, I should've listened."

"I'd like to know your whole history with your brother Mitch."

"Not this again."

"Nothing too bad, I promise. Just tell me, how did you guys originally get into this relationship you have?"

"What relationship, we haven't talked in years."

"You know what I mean."

"I, I don't really remember."

"You don't remember?"

"I was like five, I think, it's just kind of a blur. I remember. I remember him touching me, he was about nine I guess. We had bunk beds back then, and I'd crawl in with him alot because I was scared of the dark. But one day, he just kinda of started running his hand down my thighs. I didn't know what he was doing, but I let him do it."

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing. He just sat there and stroked me all night, it just kind of progressed slowly of the years. First it was touching, then kissing! , then sucking, until he finally said he wanted my ass. I, I just let him. I didn't want it, but he said it'd be good for me."

"So he forced you?"

"He loved me, he didn't force me. He always told me he loved me."

"But did he? Mitch, this is the reason you're like this now, don't you realize it. It's from growing up with all these secrets and all these activities your brother blackmailed you into doing."

"But, but..."

"Listen to me, your brother was wrong. He has a mental problem that he has forced onto you."

"That's where you're wrong," a new voice interrupted, "That little fuck head right there started it all. It's his fault that he's been in here this whole fucking time. It's his fault that he won't just let me alone and let me lead my own life."

Mitch's body stiffened in Brian's arms.

"Blake..."

Brian stepped away from Mitch and looked at the stranger. He had dark hair like Mitch but the resemblance stopped there. He had pale green eyes where Mitch’s were a dark brown and his face was twisted into an ugly grin.
"Who the fuck are you?" He asked Brian. Then his expression cleared. "Hey, I know you, you’re that English fag that likes dresses!" Brian stared at him stonily giving him a look that he usually reserved for the pushiest reporters.
"Blake!" Mitch said again and leapt into his brother’s arms. "I thought you’d never come!" Blake stroked the top of his brother’s head soothingly. "I’m here, Mitch, calm down."
"Oh okay." Mitch released him. "I kept dreaming of this day…" He said wonderment in his voice.
"I want to talk to you in private—" Blake pointedly glared at Brian who backed away, leaving Mitch’s room to the two brothers.

Shirley approached him when he sat down in the common! room.
"They said you could go to Stefan’s funeral." She said simply. "Mr. Hewitt will be here to pick you up tomorrow at seven." Brian nearly hugged her as Mitch had Blake. He then *did* hug her, relief in every line of his body. He knew it wasn’t much attending the funeral but he had to do it, if not for Stefan then for himself.
"Thank you!" He whispered into her soft lavender scented hair. "I appreciate it." She stepped away from him and looked away colour rushing across her cheekbones. Brian thought she blushed very prettily.
"I had nothing to do with it." She said and fluttered away back to her duties. Brian went to sleep that night thinking of his day tomorrow. There was one part of him that was selfishly glad that Stefan was dead just so he could leave this insane place for a day. He laughed, insane, that was right.

Steve looked haggard, the bones of his sharp face accentuated into caricature. He was in a shiny black suit that Brian didn’t approve of at all. It had a cheap eighties look that was offensive to Brian’s designer eyes. Steve gathered Brian into his capable arms, his long hair ticking Brian’s mouth.
"How are you doing, pal?"
"I’m okay."
"Right then let’s go."
Brian got into the car, settling himself in the passenger seat. All he could think of was Stef doing the same a couple of days ago, but now he was dead. Oh god Stef was dead. Brian felt the tears well up but he forced them back. He was going to have to be strong for Steve.

Brian felt bile sting the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, looking at Blake from across Stef’s grave. How dare he come here? Then all of a sudden Brian knew. It was Blake that had killed Stefan.
"Argh!" Brian yelled and leapt over the hole landing on Blake. He wanted to kill him with a passion. How dare he rape Mitch, lovable fucked-up Mitch who had stolen his heart, how dar! e he kill Stefan! Brian felt hands pulling at him but in his mania he was unstoppable. He hung on until the body underneath him didn’t twitch anymore.

He had thirty five witnesses when he murdered Blake. The court sentenced him to a lifetime in prison. The jury ruled that he wasn’t insane when he killed Blake. Brian laughed until the tears ran freely. He wasn’t insane he just loved Mitch.

Epilogue

"How'd he die?"

"A fight with another inmate."

Mitch ran his fingers tenderly down Brian's cheek, he was so cold.

"How'd it start?"

"The inmate, his name was Matt Wight, was trying to rape your friend. Molko tried to fight back, but he lost. Wight didn't survive either, as you can tell..."

The young woman gestured to the other body. A shank was buried deep in the man's chest. Mitch smiled to himself and stroked Brian's hair as if to congratulate him for taking the fucker out with him. It'd been 10 years since he had last seem him at his trial, he was surprised he had made it that long in prison.

"I'll take the body now."

Brian's family had all died three years ago in a fire on Christmas Eve.

"Yes sir, allow us to just prepare him, do you have a cart for the body?"

"Don't bother."

He scooped the limp body in his arms, holding him close.

"But sir..."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pistol, no emotion on his face.

"Are you going to protest?"

"No sir!"

"Good."

He backed towards the door, making sure the woman didn't try to do anything. The moment his back hit the door, he flung it open and was out of there. He held Brian's head close to his shoulder so it wouldn't bang into anything.



Mitch brought Brian to the White Room. The place years ago that he had first felt his true fear. The! whole ward had been closed down seven years ago after the asylum had been viewed as being harsh and cruel to their patients. That was probably the only reason he was free. Of course, why bother moving. He had no where to go, this was his home. He had worked for days, dragging his things and anything else handy to the old part of the hospital where no one ever went for fear of ghosts. Now he laid Brian on his bed and sat in the chair next to it, and just sat there staring at him.

"I missed you my love, but now you're back. You're back with me forever.

He shed his old tattered clothing and slipped beneath the sheets. Finally, to be able to feel the soft flesh of his lover once more. He climbed on top of his, straddling his hips, and ran his fingers over Brian's shoulders. Exactly as he remembered him, he didn't look 10 years older at all. In fact, in this state he looked younger. He carefully removed his clothes and let them fall to the floor beside the skull of his brother. The experience was beautiful. Not a single murmur of protest on Brian's part. After, he snuggled Brian's stiff corpse from behind, running his fingers over the soft flesh.

"Forever Brian, we're each other's destiny."

"Mitch, my love, you've brought him."

"Yes Eggy, just as you wished."

"You're such a good little servant. Now you know what you must do."

"Bring John back to you."

"Yes honey. I love you sweetie, you've always did my bidding. Tonio, Ray, Alan, Darry..."

"I am you slave for eternity."

"I know that, and so will everyone else. Because if I never get to leave this prison, then no one ever will."