[ it immediately shatters every sense of security that credence had slowly built up over the months he'd been living with graves. not when it comes to the older man - no, that won't change any time soon - but in general, the feeling of quiet malaise that had finally (blissfully) left him some time ago returning in full force.
still, a part of him somehow manages to keep from being frightened. as terrifying as the experience is he knows it will have to end soon and he clings to that thought. he's kept in a locked room until they catch him trying to climb out the previously barred window. it seems they haven't looked into him enough to know of his past; they've only seen him with graves and decided to take a chance.
so then he's kept bound instead, hands behind his back uncomfortably with the thick zip ties tight enough to bruise. it's not the only mark he gets. he's sitting across from one of the men when he tips his head aside before tossing his hair back out of his face. he's going to kill you, he says, soft and certain, and it earns him a backhand that splits his lip and bruises his cheek and makes him bite his tongue. credence just smiles in response, just a little bloody, and whispers now he'll do it slow.
a lot of it is bravado because he feels so small and lost here, but he also knows it's not far from the truth. it's another day before he sees the older man and the bruises have blossomed dark on his face. he looks at him with wide eyes before they narrow and he hisses a vindictive kill them all.
and, well, here they are.
being in graves' apartment again makes him a little anxious but not being alone in it helps. he has his arms resting on the counter he's sitting at, both hands on the glass of water but not drinking any of it. it's almost as though it takes him a moment to process the question properly but then he looks up and over at him, quietly observing graves' face before he nods. his shoulders are hunched and he's leaning forward, reminiscent of when he'd first moved in. ] Please. I don't want to be alone.
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still, a part of him somehow manages to keep from being frightened. as terrifying as the experience is he knows it will have to end soon and he clings to that thought. he's kept in a locked room until they catch him trying to climb out the previously barred window. it seems they haven't looked into him enough to know of his past; they've only seen him with graves and decided to take a chance.
so then he's kept bound instead, hands behind his back uncomfortably with the thick zip ties tight enough to bruise. it's not the only mark he gets. he's sitting across from one of the men when he tips his head aside before tossing his hair back out of his face. he's going to kill you, he says, soft and certain, and it earns him a backhand that splits his lip and bruises his cheek and makes him bite his tongue. credence just smiles in response, just a little bloody, and whispers now he'll do it slow.
a lot of it is bravado because he feels so small and lost here, but he also knows it's not far from the truth. it's another day before he sees the older man and the bruises have blossomed dark on his face. he looks at him with wide eyes before they narrow and he hisses a vindictive kill them all.
and, well, here they are.
being in graves' apartment again makes him a little anxious but not being alone in it helps. he has his arms resting on the counter he's sitting at, both hands on the glass of water but not drinking any of it. it's almost as though it takes him a moment to process the question properly but then he looks up and over at him, quietly observing graves' face before he nods. his shoulders are hunched and he's leaning forward, reminiscent of when he'd first moved in. ] Please. I don't want to be alone.