Kinsley x Julian - Nethilor Prison

Julian was far too transfixed on his latest discovery to take notice of Kinsley's question. He stared down at the rug beneath his feet, not the type to jump straight to conclusions. Frivolous hope was not something he liked to waste time and energy on. Besides, the empty space beneath his feet could be anything- a tiny crawl space, simple storage, or damaged flooring. The idea that there was some kind of bunker large enough to house them lying beneath the floor boards of this tiny cottage seemed ridiculously unlikely.

Casting Kinsley a fleeting look, he kicked the rug aside to reveal whatever was hidden beneath. Although it was difficult to see at first glance, a closer look revealed a thin crack in the floor in the distinct shape of a square. There was no latch or handle in sight, but he could tell that there were hinges on one edge of the square, signifying that it could be pried open.

Needing the answer right away, Julian swept toward Kinsley's bedside and knelt down, reaching under the bed to retrieve the discarded meat cleaver. The tool was still coated in dried blood, but he took no notice as he returned to the mysterious hatch. He kneeled on the wood floor and slipped the blade into the narrow slit opposite the hinges, carefully prying the trap door open until he was able to get a grip on it and flip it the rest of the way open. The hinges creaked and a cloud of dust blew into Julian's face as the door landed open with a thud.

Standing up, Julian waved his hands to disperse the filth in the air before peering suspiciously into the black pit beneath the house. It was immediately apparent that it wasn't a small space at all. Rather, there was a full ladder leading down into the unknown. Strange, unidentifiable smells permeated the air and Julian backed away until his knees hit the end of the bed and he sat down in a bit of a daze. Strangely enough, this house could be their saving grace. Except...Julian wasn't entirely sure he wanted to lock himself into a dusty crawl space beneath this god forsaken house. It wasn't in his plans, and being trapped in a small dark place didn't at all appeal to him. The only reason he was here was because of her.

He turned slowly to look at Kinsley again, a familiar accusatory look in the depths of his eyes. She had yet to prove herself useful to him in any way, and continued to be more and more burdensome. She hadn't even uttered a simple thank you after all he'd done for her. The feelings from earlier that day began to resurface and he quickly looked away from her to quell the internal violence. Squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he took a deep breath and willed himself to think clearly.

"There's some kind of space down there. Big enough for us to fit," he paused after giving her the details, and it was obvious he wasn't jumping at the bit to throw himself down there, "Might be your only chance." Another pause, his eyes lingering on the window where he was sure they'd be able to see the angry townspeople coming to string them up, "Our only chance," he clarified after a moment, finally giving her the confirmation she so obviously craved.

"The only question is which scenario is worse," he met her gaze again, this time seeking an opinion from the woman he'd worked so adamantly to put down from the moment he'd met her, "Execution by the local townsfolk...Or locking ourselves into a prison of our own making."

As much as Julian liked to think that he was in control of his own destiny, the sound of the impending mob forced him to accept the bleak reality of their situation. There was no choice, really, because death was not an option. Neither was imprisonment, but locking himself beneath the ground was better than allowing someone else to contain him. With Kinsley's disturbing laughter still ringing in his ears, he rose from the bed and stared out the window. Through the thick greenery that surrounded the cottage, he could see the distinct flicker of torches as the disgruntled crowd beelined for the property. How suiting- death by angry villagers, complete with torches and pitchforks. It was a well deserved end, but unfortunately for these people, Julian's self preservation was kicking in at exactly the right time.

He rounded on Kinsley, a familiar look of concentration etched across his face. It was good to see that she was stable enough to move herself to the edge of the bed, but she was clearly going to be a lost cause without his assistance. Julian scooped her up from the edge of the bed and carried her to the escape route that had been practically presented to them on a silver platter."Silence," he reminded her, his intense gaze reinforcing how imperative it was to not blow their cover. No matter how much the descent hurt, even the slightest peep could end up giving them away, "Hold on to me," he instructed, settling Kinsley at the edge of the hole. A thin ladder led straight down into the beckoning darkness, giving no indication as to where it ended and the floor began. Once Kinsley's one good foot had found a place on the ladder, he began to guide her down, bearing as much of her weight as he could from above. By the time she was hanging from his fingertips, he heard voices gathering in the front lawn and his heart began to thump at the prospect of getting caught in such a ridiculous predicament. Deciding they were out of time, he released Kinsley's hand, leaving it to her to find the rest of the way to the ground.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Fists on the front door. Julian flipped his body around and descended halfway down the ladder before yanking the hatch door over his head. He held his breath as dust rained down upon him and left the door slightly ajar, squeezing his fingertips out in order to maneuver the rug back over the entrance to the secret bunker. Satisfied that they would be concealed, he let the trapdoor fall shut with a thud that conveniently echoed the sound of the front door slamming open.

Instantly, he was consumed by the darkness. It was a blackness so thick that it felt as though the air was pressing down upon him, like an intensified source of gravity. He slowly inched his way down the ladder, his steps careful and deliberate in order to avoid any creak of the old wood that would give them up. By the time his feet hit solid earth, the ringing in his ears had started up again and he braced himself for the inevitable reaction he was going to have to this place. The abhorrent stench that filled the space was threatening to make him heave and he forced himself to back up a step, only to feel a cobweb catch on his ear. His mind began to conjure up millions of spiders crawling across his skin and he quickly sunk to the floor, curling in upon himself. The ringing intensified, to the point where he could no longer hear whatever commotion was happening above them. Everything melted away until it was just Julian and the darkness.

He'd been here before. A memory was threatening to resurface...clawing its way out of him in this state of vulnerability that he'd willingly thrown himself into. The memory was of darkness itself. Four walls closing in on him. Banging and yelling. Fear. He'd been here before.

Suddenly, there was movement beside him and Julian was no longer alone. It was Kinsley, and her mere presence forced the repressed memory back into its tiny box in the recesses of Julian's mind. Sound came roaring back to him and the first thing he heard was his own breathing. His breaths were coming out in short, panicked bursts. Too loud. He stifled himself with the collar of his shirt and reached a hand out, fingers latching onto Kinsley's arm. He squeezed tightly and allowed the contact to anchor him to reality. Anything to stay away from the demons that threatened to drag him all the way to hell.

Julian might've enjoyed eluding the clutches of the angry townsfolk under different circumstances, but the series of events and turbulent emotions that had led up to this particular scenario left him drained. He could do nothing but sit in silence, clutching at Kinsley's arm like a nervous, clingy toddler. Whereas he usually had a million thoughts racing through his head every moment of the day, his mind was disturbingly blank as he stared into the dark abyss that surrounded them and listened to the commotion above.

The sounds that filled the cabin blurred into one garbled uproar as the people were forced to lay eyes on the grotesque scene they had left behind. The shock quickly turned to frustration as they argued and shoved furniture, scouring the small house for the outlaws only to come up empty handed. By the time the angry footsteps calmed and the yelling morphed into an inevitable discussion about what to do next, Julian had completely lost track of time. Eventually, an eerie silence settled over them and stretched for an indeterminate amount of time, but Julian remained still due to the crushing anxiety that kept him rooted to the spot he had landed in. The trance was only broken when Kinsley forcefully removed his fingers and sent him drifting back out into the void, alone.

"No." The response was simple and abrupt- an answer that fulfilled both of her statements. He stubbornly reached out and latched back onto her arm, needing the stability in order to think. It was frustrating to have no idea how much time had passed, especially without the sun to act as a guide. However, no amount of time seemed like enough to him in that moment, and his paranoia made it impossible for him to believe that the entire mob had actually left.

"You're gullible if you think they gave up so easily," he criticized, "They know we couldn't have gotten far- not with your foot. When they search the surrounding area and find no trace of us, they'll be back. And if they notice we've been rummaging around up there, they'll know we're here, and they'll find us." The argument came out in one concise rush and he paused before adding with finality, "We have to wait." It was a reality he definitely did not want to accept, but patience was necessary.

Deciding he could no longer stand the darkness, Julian carefully pushed himself to his feet, only releasing Kinsley once he had gained his footing. He crept forward with his hands outstretched until his fingertips bumped into a solid stone wall and he began to follow the length of the room, trying to get a feel for the size of the space they had crawled into. He stopped only when his hips bumped into a wooden surface and he felt along the table, his hands fumbling shakily over the dusty surface until they collided with an object and tipped it over with a metallic clang. He cringed and held his breath, allowing several seconds to pass before he grasped the fallen item- a candle stick. Halfway relieved, he continued to feel around until he discovered an undeserved lifeline- matches. He worked quickly to pull one from the box and strike it, causing a tiny blaze of hope to light up his corner of the room. Holding it over the candle, the aura of light expanded, finally bathing the area around them in dim firelight. Julian turned back toward Kinsley, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to the new source of light.

Julian's eyes landed on the lone bassinet before Kinsley even had a chance to look around. He stiffened on the opposite side of the room, staring at the single object that filled the otherwise empty space. Suddenly, the wretched smell returned. It reminded him of the stench of death, but it only seemed to come and go with the fluctuation of his anxiety. It couldn't possibly be the figure in the cradle; it was clearly another one of wooden carvings. Kinsley didn't seem to notice anything, but the foul odor continued to permeate the air, threatening to suffocate him. He had to be losing his mind.

He blinked when Kinsley broke the silence, but had no visible reaction to her bad joke. Instead, he continued to stare at the newest discovery, becoming agitated that he was now trapped down here with it. He hated babies. He couldn't understand the appeal of creating a tiny version of yourself only to bring it into a dismal world and inevitably screw it over with incompetent parenting. Perhaps these people had the right idea; a fake baby was far more practical. His parents should have considered the alternative.

Feeling another strange memory threatening to surface, he focused his attention on absorbing Kinsley's short anecdote. It was a welcome distraction, and he added 'little sister' to the growing encyclopedia of Kinsley that he had begun to curate in his mind. Deciding to push the subject of the inanimate baby to the back burner, he moved toward Kinsley and sat down cross legged in front of her, placing the candlestick between them.

Her line of questioning was expected, and yet he still did not have an answer. At least, not one that would be satisfying for either of them, "I don't know," he uttered, staring at the small, flickering flame, "Does there have to be a reason for everything? I felt like there was unfinished business between us. I don't like to leave things unfinished."

It was the best answer he could offer, given the circumstances of his unraveling stability. She was lucky that he even bothered to answer at all. His eyes drifted upwards slowly until they locked with hers, his face shrouded in shadows from the dim cast of the candlelight, "You wish I hadn't come back." Julian wasn't one to ask questions. He liked to imagine that he had all the answers, but this time he felt unsure. Part of him wanted her to deny his assumption, but he refused to entertain such frivolous desires.

Although Julian remained carefully impassive on the outside, he could feel his insides twisting in an uncomfortable sensation as Kinsley poured her heart out to him. He couldn’t remember a single time someone had felt comfortable enough to share so much with him. People usually eyed him distrustfully and danced around uncomfortable subjects when in his presence. He didn’t blame them; he went out of his way to make sure people were on edge around him because it was easier that way. But Kinsley had broken down the barrier. It didn’t make sense; she had every reason to resent him, and yet the look of longing in her eyes told him otherwise.

She not only wanted him; she needed him. The realization caused the knot in his stomach to unravel all at once, unleashing an unexpected rush of desire through his veins. Suddenly, the carefully established rules that ran his life didn’t matter. He didn’t need to manipulate her because fate had left her incredibly vulnerable. The foot was gone, but he was there. Yes, he had made the decision for her, and he was prepared to continue making decisions for them from here on out. Her dependency was like a drug- one he intended on getting a fix on for as long as humanly possible. He didn’t need to hide or distance himself because the uncertainty of their future was gone. Kinsley needed him to survive, and Julian needed her to feel something- anything.

Julian blinked for what felt like the first time since she started speaking, his eyes shifting toward her stump of a leg. Yes, it was ugly. She was disturbingly unbalanced- an invalid. He expected himself to be fully repulsed when he looked upon the abomination, but he felt the opposite. He had created it, and that made it special to him and only him.

As he studied Kinsley in the dim light, he noticed for the first time the pain etched upon every inch of her body. Sometimes it was difficult for him to pick up on the subtleties of others’ discomfort, but hers was exceptionally hard to miss. Whilst he was in relatively perfect condition and sitting comfortably with his legs crossed beneath him, she was struggling to even keep herself propped up and conscious. The room was dreadfully barren, but once again- he was there.

Without a word, he shifted forward and rounded the candle that was placed between, settling down beside her. He curled an arm around her back, relieving her arms of holding up her body weight. Gently, he guided her downward until her head and upper body were resting in the center of his lap and she could lie flat. His face hovered over hers, one side illuminated while the other was cast in dark shadows- an uncanny representation of the two-sided coin that was Julian.

“No one will see past it,” he agreed, using a finger to tuck her sweat dampened hair away from her face, “And if they do…” he trailed off, the finger tracing all the way down to her neck where the distinct outline of his hands was branded into her skin, “I will end them.”

Julian didn’t need to hear the request from Kinsley’s lips; their fate was already sealed as far as he was concerned. He watched her slip into unconsciousness and allowed his own eyes to flutter closed as the silence brought him clarity. Her weakness was his strength, and he could feel himself backing away from the edge of the cliff that was sure to be his undoing. It was time to take control.

Day one was long and uneventful. He spent the day and most of the night trying to sleep on the rock hard floor with Kinsley’s head constantly propped up on some part of his body after she had lost consciousness. Though he longed to resurface from their dreaded hideout, he refused to give in so quickly.

Day two confirmed his suspicions. As morning arrived, he heard the return of the angry citizens. This time, there were only a few individuals that entered the house and talked amongst each other as they took another look at the scene of the crime. Fortunately, it seemed as though none of the couple’s acquaintances were aware of their creepy little secret beneath the floorboards. Footsteps passed overhead, stepping right over the creaky hinges of the hatch, but no one noticed the irritating squeak that had led Julian to pull up the rug. Sometimes his quirks paid off.

Day three began in the very early hours of the morning. Kinsley had slept for most of the time so far, but now a fever had taken hold and she continued to break out in cold sweats and shivers. Not only was he concerned about her survival, but they were also both in desperate need of water and food. It was pitch black dark when he pushed the hatch door open and was greeted by fresh air for the first time in days. It was an overwhelming relief, but he wasted no time in gathering the necessary supplies and returning to the basement to tend to Kinsley.

Day four greeted him with the loud and rhythmic thud of a hammer. It took him some time to realize that someone had returned to board up the house- possibly condemning it. He figured this would work wonders in their favor, but he remained hidden beneath the floor for the rest of the day, just to be sure.

Day five granted them freedom from their wretched cage. He managed to carry Kinsley out of the bunker and gave her some time to rest on the bed. She was still in rough condition, but sleeping the days away was giving her body a chance to recuperate and fight back. Julian spent the evening bathing her and redressing her wound, which was surely a relief to both of them. Although the amputation had been far from perfect, they appeared to have avoided any major complications, even with all odds stacked against them.

Day six finally brought about a sense of normalcy; normal for Kinsley and Julian, at least. They were both cleaned, dressed, and lounging around the house in which they’d been boarded into. Kinsley had officially broken her fever over night, and Julian had hopes that she would soon be coming around for good. He was becoming increasingly bored and lonely, unsatisfied with the brief and disoriented conversations they’d shared throughout the week. He needed her to come back.

“Thou shalt repent…” he muttered allowed. Julian had pulled up a chair beside the bed where Kinsley lay, his bare feet kicked up on the edge of the mattress. He was reading a book he’d grabbed from the couple’s small and questionable library, flipping through the pages leisurely. It appeared to be a holy book of some kind, though the creed was obscure and unfamiliar to him. His mind drifted to the baby statue beneath them, but he quickly redirected his attention back to the reading. He’d avoided the object like the plague during the entire ordeal. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the imposter of a baby disturbed him beyond reason.

Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.

That couldn’t be right. Julian reread the verse that had been circled over and over until the page nearly ripped, confirming the oddly disturbing message. The further he flipped through the holy book, the more he realized that it had been altered to some extent. On second glance, many of the verses were eerily familiar, and yet it seemed to be missing the most crucial lessons that had been ingrained into him at an early age. He smoothed his finger down the crease of the book and his suspicions were confirmed; pages had been torn out. A morbid sense of curiosity overtook him, and he skipped to the middle of the text to discover that even more annotations had been made in the form of underlines and scribbles within the margins. He tipped the book, allowing the pages to flutter open quickly, one after another, until he neared the very end of the text where another quote jumped out at him.

If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life crippled, than, having your two hands, to go into hell, into the unquenchable fire.

Julian rubbed his hand over his eyes and checked again. He was sure his mind was playing tricks on him, but no; he’d read it correctly. It seemed extremely on the nose, like someone had meant for him to find it as a form of mockery over their current situation. The modified book had nearly fooled him, but he could see clearly now; it was the same bible he’d been raised on. The same bible he’d rejected. The realization caused unease to flood over him and he slammed the title-less book shut, tossing it across the room where it landed with a thud in the corner.

“You are an ungodly beast, and you will stay down there until He condemns you to burn in Hell!”

His mother’s voice rang loud and clear in his head for the first time in a very, very long time. It pierced right through to his soul and he felt the violent urge to wretch. He closed his eyes and could feel himself surrounded by darkness again; the walls were pressing in on him, the dust was choking him. No, he refused to entertain long forsaken memories. There was no need to revisit the past- not after he’d ended things for good. It was that wretched bunker they’d been locked in for days on end- it was messing with his head. He leaned forward with his face in his hands, willing himself to forget.

And then, like the voice of an angel, Kinsley’s voice broke through the eerie silence that had blanketed the house for far too long. His name was the first thing she spoke, as though she had sensed that he needed her in that moment. Julian sat upright, liberated from his thoughts by the welcomed distraction. Finally, she had returned to him. He was sure he would have become lost in the darkest recesses of his mind if he were left to his own devices for much longer.

Rising from his bedside seat, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand toward her. His knuckles brushed lightly across her forehead and he was relieved to find that her pale skin was delightfully cool.

“Welcome back,” he replied smoothly, tucking a stray hair away from her face. He studied her up close in the dim light that peaked through the cracks of the boarded windows, glad to see some life returning to her features. Although he’d memorized much of her body during the week he’d spent caring for her- from the shape of her lips right down to the arch of her only remaining foot- it was different to see her awake. He noticed that she still appeared to be in pain- afraid, even. Frowning, he reached for the glass of water he’d placed on the bedside table and curled his free hand at the base of her neck, urging her to sit up, “Drink,” he ordered softly, holding the glass close to her lips.