Blood on My Hands

The first time Jordan’s little game started was only about a week into his and Zack’s living together.

At that point, Zack had felt like he was on absolute Cloud Nine. Not only did he have the adorable stay-at-home boyfriend and the equally-as-adorable and just as lovable pets, but the sex was beyond anything he could’ve hoped for. They had more time to try different things, and that meant that they could explore Jordan’s kink for extreme pain without worrying about nosy neighbors in apartments or the younger man having to leave the house covered in bruises, scorch marks, and scratches among various other injuries.

At all hours of the night.

Every single night.

Each day, Zack went into work with a glow that he doubted he’d ever felt before—not during his and his partner’s first kiss, not during their first ‘I love you’s, not ever—and while Jordan would usually be impossibly more sore by the time the next morning rolled around, he couldn’t recall a time when someone actually let loose and hurt him the way he wanted to be hurt.

He adored it, craved it, resulting in even more sex with the passing days.

To most, it would seem a little off that such an awkward, reserved person was into anything past playfully-gentle biting, and while Zack felt the same way when it had been first brought up, he was more than willing to do whatever he could to make Jordan happy.

Everything just worked with the couple; everything was on a precise schedule: wake up, get ready for work, go to work, dread work, leave work, arrive home to a warm meal and a shy-as-ever boy, relax for a few hours, have sex well past the borderline of sadistic, give Jordan the appropriate aftercare, go to sleep, and repeat.

That was all the older man could've ever really hoped for: a nice, solid schedule. It was easy to follow, and nothing could throw him off if there was such a simple, repetitive pattern.

Then, Jordan had to go and break it.

Zack had just gotten home from a particularly tiring Thursday to find the house virtually empty. Backpack, Jordan’s Chihuahua, had torn full-speed down the hallway at the sound of the front door opening, but other than that, there was nothing.

The elder knew that his boyfriend hadn’t left the house (well, he figured Jordan hadn’t left), and he began to venture through the still-unfamiliar building with the small dog in tow. He attempted to call out to his boyfriend, but it was met with silence.

When Zack reached the bedroom, he moved toward one of the two doors in the room. He knew that one led to the bathroom while the other led to the closet, but both doors were sealed closed and, honestly, he couldn’t remember which was which. Taking a wild guess, he opened the one to his left.

It seemed to happen in slow motion—the opening of the door, the three seconds of peering through the dark, and then the lithe male springing from the closet with his teeth bared and his fingers curled toward his own palms.

Zack had nearly let out a scream before he was stumbling back and crashing on the bed, eyes blown wide and jaw hanging open in shock. Jordan had laughed for what felt like hours before he crawled onto the bed, body hovering over the larger male’s own and leaning in for a sweet kiss.

That continued on for days, weeks, without fail.

By the time the first month had eventually ended, Zack had all but come to just expect Jordan to be hiding in the closet upon his return home every evening, waiting patiently to jump out and give him a momentary scare.

At that point, he’d decided to even hide himself away in different closets throughout the house. Jordan would usually only be in one for less than ten minutes before Zack would get home and begin the hunt. Though the elder knew damn well what to expect, the unexpectedness of the location always caused him a slight fright.

Jordan lived for that jump, the wide eyes, and the gasp of surprise; he lived for it more than that oh-so-delicious pain he’d receive in the bedroom not too long afterward for being ‘such a bad, little boy.’

A week and a half passed by like that, with Zack being an active participator in Jordan’s game. Ten jumpy days, to be exact. If the older man was going to be completely honest, he’d gotten quite use to the “Boo!” he’d hear that he no longer got even the remotest bit scared. He’d stopped focusing on the anticipation that made his spine shiver and instead began to pay more attention to his boyfriend’s grinning face and the absolutely precious giggle he’d let out before throwing himself into Zack’s strong arms, his own wrapping loosely around the elder’s neck and their lips pushing together in a sweet greeting.

Zack just knew that he was living the life—The American Dream. He was sure that there was nothing better, and if there was, he’d reach it with Jordan by his side.

Jordan, on the other hand, also took notice in his partner’s loss of interest. Not in him, of course, but in the game itself.

It made him angry, if anything. He knew he had to spice it up a bit, just like he’d realized years prior that he had to spice up his sex life compared to everyone else’s. There was one thing that he knew for certain would work; he’d done it quite a few times before, resulting in a great deal of trouble and terror.

Terror that shook many different people from all the world over.

It was too bad it had come to that, really. He actually did love Zack, but he'd just have to get over it. He’d done it before, after all.

--- ---

On Friday night, Zack left work with a smile on his face and a pep in his step. When he’d left Jordan that morning, he’d taken notice of no visible bruises, scorches, scratches, or any other typical abuse marks, and he’d decided on-the-spot that there was really nothing more he’d rather do than make reservations to Jordan’s favorite sushi bar in the middle of town for a nice, romantic night out—something they hadn’t had in quite a while. He knew that Jordan would appreciate the gesture.

Of course, he’d probably appreciate it more if Zack made him earn his desired punishment… force him to wear a plug or vibrating dildo, pushed right against his prostate, tearing sharp, panting gasps and slutty, muffled groans from chewed-raw lips, having to hold it in (even though Zack knew there was no way he’d be able to do that) while—

“Jo… Beany, can you come out here for a second? I’ve got a surprise for you,” Zack called through the small house as the front door clicked back into its place behind him. There was no immediate answer as Zack trudged from room to room in search of his partner, nor one after a good minute and a half. He pulled his tie loose and kicked his painful dress shoes off in the middle of the hallway, dropping them haphazardly where he passed on the way to their bedroom.

One thing Zack didn’t expect when he walked into the bedroom was the faint sound of wheezing making its way from the inside of the closet. Jordan was always so good and so careful at being completely silent; he never wanted to give his partner any clues as to his possible whereabouts.

It was only a few seconds before Zack realized something: he had the advantage for the first time since the game had begun. He donned a simper as he crept forward. It disappeared, though, when he had another thought: it could just be one of the cats. He hadn’t seen any of them when he’d walked into the house (which, honestly, he rarely saw them as it was), nor had he heard Backpack’s signature yipping.

If it is one of the cats, then maybe Jordan is taking Backpack for a walk or something. I should probably let the poor bastard out, Zack decided. I really don’t need any of them tearing up my shit… or getting fur on anything… or throwing up… or using the bathroom in my good shoes…

Zack visibly cringed at the mere thought before reaching out to twist the handle and wrench the door open for the creature inside to make its great escape.

Only, nothing came scampering from the depths of the closet. The wheezing continued, followed by the suddenly-noticeable sound of what sounded like weak shuffling. No Jordan, no cats, no dog.

The dim light flooding through the window was blocked by the door and Zack’s own, bulking shadow, and, for the first time in a long time… he was actually terrified. Not the kind of scared that he’d feel when Jordan would jump right out at him, but the kind of scared that made him want to turn on his heel and run without venturing any further. The air, for whatever reason, felt thicker, and he wasn’t sure if he was imaging the strong smell of copper that flooded his senses. Everything was just wrong.

It was only with extreme reluctance that he squeezed his eyes closed and reached up inside the closet for the small string that would turn on the overhead light.

To his surprise, nothing made a grab for Zack’s arm as his fingers curled shakily around the string or as he pulled on it until light washed against his eyelids, and he jumped back as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Thirty seconds ticked away before it morphed into a full minute and, when nothing happened, Zack let his eyes peel open slowly. What he saw had him gasping around a gag.

On the wall was a large ‘Boo!’ in a deep red. Some parts appeared to be darker than others, and some parts... some parts looked like they were dripping. There were bits of what looked like hair clinging to the letters, and if Zack directed his gaze just a bit south, he saw even more writing in the same coloring as the top half. The words there were a simple, ‘Come and find me.’

The unexplained wheezing was coming from a position still further down. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, honestly, but it definitely wasn’t what he’d found.

On the floor was… well, he wasn’t really sure. It was in a mangled heap, and it looked like it was still alive… if the noises it was making were anything to go by. It was red and shined in the light, and then not one set of eyes were peering up at him, but there were four pairs. Browns, greens, and golds all stared up at him in agony, pleading with him to either end their suffering or bring them help, and then it was all clicking into place and Zack could only stumble his way from the closet as he gagged a second time.

His hand pushed its way deep into his pockets before the hyperventilating began, but Zack wasn’t the most conscious of his words and actions as he called 911 for help and crawled to the head of the bed. With his back pressed to the wall, his thoughts raced.

Someone had taken Jordan, he realized. Someone knew exactly how their routine went and had decided to interfere with it. Someone had skinned their pets while they were still breathing and used their blood to mark up the walls.

Zack felt like everything around him was moving too quickly yet also far too slowly. He had a brief thought about whether or not how he felt had any sort of resemblance to warped speed on the Enterprise, but the sound of the bedroom door creaking open on its hinges had him snapping back into reality.

There was virtually no time to think as the young man vaulted himself over the side of the bed. He knew that he’d been spotted, that it was too late for him and that whoever it was that had taken Jordan was surely going to take him next.

And then, instead of a madman covered in blood and grinning wildly, a woman in a crisp, blue, police uniform was darting around the end of the bed and into his line of sight. Another two men appeared behind her, though they put their focus on the still-opened, still-lit closet and the contents inside.

The woman began to say something to Zack, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat and heavy breathing. As his head finally lolled itself to the side, his vision going hazy, the young man took note of a face smiling back at him from under the bed.

With his view having gone completely black, Zack didn’t notice the woman officer calling for help or all three of the lawmen lifting him in a team effort from the ground to bring him outside.

--- ---

When Zack woke up later that evening, he was lying in a hospital bed with the female officer from before sitting by his side in an uncomfortable-looking chair. He couldn’t remember much of what had happened or who she was, but he began to take mental notes on her immediately.

She was pretty, he decided, with her tanned skin and straight, white teeth. He couldn’t hear much of what she was saying (seeing as how she was whispering into the phone pressed to her ear), but he could tell that she had an accent. Zack wasn’t able to put a name to it, but he liked it; it made her sound like she was singing instead of talking.

Zack did his best to sit up in an attempt to hear more of such a soothing sound, but he soon became light-headed at the simple action. A groan pushed its way from his chest as he flopped back onto the mattress, and the pretty officer glanced over before smiling and whispering a quick goodbye to the person on the other end of the line.

“How are you feeling?” she asked after a moment of allowing Zack to get a slightly better inspection of her—it wasn’t much, really, but it was something she’d learned helped gain people’s trust. Her name tag read ‘Lt. P. Rose,’ and he silently agreed that it suited her pretty well… from what he could tell of her, at least.

“I don’t know,” he admit honestly. He sort of just felt… empty.

“Can you tell me your full name?” she inquired next, not seeming the slightest bit fazed by his lack of detail.

Zack gave an internal groan at the knowledge of having to answer questions before nodding. “Zachary Steven Merrick.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Date of birth?”

“April 18th.”

“Very good, Mr. Merrick,” she praised, flashing him another warming smile. “Now can you tell me where you are?”

Zack had to refrain from rolling his eyes. How many places looked like they’d been drowned in gallons of white paint, fluorescent lights, cleaning supplies, and incessantly beeping machines?

“A hospital. Probably John Hopkins in the center of Baltimore, Maryland.”

Lieutenant Rose nodded. “Do you know why you’re here?”

At that, Zack was at a loss for words. Why was he there? How long had he been there? Where was Jordan?

But then it all came flooding back—the blood, the mound of still-breathing flesh, the fear that a fate far worse had befallen his boyfriend… everything except for the smiling face hidden away in the shadows underneath their bed.

Instead of answering her question, Zack’s face twisted with panic as he rushed out an, “Have you found him yet?”

The suddenness didn’t daunt Lieutenant Rose, who merely raised a well-manicured eyebrow at the near-hysteric man. After a moment, she spoke again. “I’ll take it that means you can remember some of the things that you witnessed. We don’t know where your partner is—he is your partner, isn’t he? Mr.…”

“Witzigreuter,” Zack supplied, leaning himself back into the pillow behind his head and closing his eyes as he did his best to not start hyperventilating. Only, the things he’d seen were burned into his brain, which fed an endless reel to the back of his eyelids. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before he’d finally be sick.

“Mr. Witzigreuter has yet to be found. My fellow officers have searched the immediate area as well as around the house. We won’t have any detectives in until tomorrow morning, though. We do know for sure that the blood found on the wall belonged to the animals, but we haven’t found anything that would lead us to your partner. Do you know of anyone who would do such a thing? Maybe an old lover, either yours or Mr. Witzigrueter’s?”

Zack gulped down the bile that had started to push its way up his throat (having to pause another moment to grimace at the burn it left on its way back down) before shaking his head. “None of my exes would… I don’t know anyone who’d be able to… I don’t think Beany would know anyone who’d do anything like that…” he trailed out. Zack’s heart clenched as the nickname slipped through his teeth, and it took a deep breath for him to hold in the tears he wanted to let out. He thought he’d been scared earlier when he first saw the damage that had been done to his life, but knowing that he might never see his partner again tore him apart in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe.

Lieutenant Rose took a moment to process what she’d been told before she nodded and stood from her seat. Without a single word, she was stepping from the room and out into the hall. Zack wasn’t alone for long, though, and within minutes, she was returning with a doctor and two nurses by her side.

The same questions were gone over a second time, and then the physical exam began. Lieutenant Rose was silent as she watched on with mild interest—she’d seen many people in her time on the force forego the same procedure.

It seemed to last for hours to Zack, who followed along with what he was instructed to do without uttering a word. He was too consumed in his own mind, plagued with thoughts of finding his boyfriend and keeping him safe. Maybe they’d have to move. Jordan had always taken an interest in Hawaii and California. Or maybe his boyfriend would rather—

“You seem to be in perfect health, Mr. Merrick,” the doctor spoke, eyes focused on a clipboard that he held in front of his eyes. “You’re going to have to take it a little easy for these next few days, but if you think you’ll be alright on your own, you can leave whenever you’re ready. You’re more than welcome to stay the night in here if not. You can check out at the front desk whenever you wish; I’ll be back in to check on you in a few hours if you’re still here, alright?”

Zack nodded, sending a glance to Lieutenant Rose as he made his way toward the door without further acknowledging the doctor.

“We have a motel paid for you,” she was saying as she followed behind him through the halls. “We think it would be for the best for you to stay away from the house until we have any further leads. I grabbed a few—”

“Just take me to my house,” Zack cut in, not looking back. He doubted he’d be able to turn his head, even if he wanted to; he felt like such a zombie.

“Mr. Merrick, I can assure you that—”

“I don’t care,” he said, stopping in front of the elevator doors as he waited for them to open.

Lieutenant Rose rolled her eyes, but only slightly. She knew that the man was only being irrational because of the trauma he’d been through, but not even someone who wasn’t in their right mind would be willing to go back to the place of trauma. Nevertheless, she nodded and trudged behind him into the elevator as the doors finally slid open.

Once outside, she was immediately beginning to make calls about the unexpected change of plans.

--- ---

The house seemed much larger than it ever had before. It was so empty; too dark. The only sound that Zack could hear above his own footsteps and heavy breathing was the sound of Lieutenant Rose’s car pulling from the driveway to move its way down the street. He knew she wasn’t going very far, but he could appreciate the attempt at giving him privacy given the circumstances.

He didn’t know why he’d felt the need to go back, if he was being honest. It wasn’t just the house that he wanted to return to, though. There was something else pulling at his very essence, begging him to move ever closer to that one door at the end of the hall.

It was still hanging open on its hinges, and it was with a shaky hand that Zack felt along the wall for the light switch.

There wasn’t much different from the last time he’d been there, he noted. The warped animals at the bottom of the closet had been removed (leaving behind an unsightly red stain on the floor), but other than that, it looked as though nothing had been touched.

Zack wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Maybe some part of him had hoped to find his boyfriend asleep in their bed with all of their pets, having dozed off as they awaited his return. Jordan would wake up and kiss him hello, soft and lazy, before apologizing for taking his prank too far and landing Zack in the hospital. Instead of having rough, sadistic sex, they’d get into some comfortable pajamas and cuddle in bed, having to give their affections to four other needy creatures.

Needless to say, Zack had to add disappointment to the emotions he was feeling, just below the one that was surely printed in bold on his forehead: terrified.

On weak limbs, the young man drug himself toward the closet to peer inside at the words that still seemed to taunt him. They were infuriating, if anything. How was he supposed to find anyone without being given any clues? With a frustrated sigh, Zack turned back toward the bed.

There was something about it, and the pull it emitted felt much stronger than the one he’d felt toward the house. He crept forward as quietly as he could manage, but it became a useless effort when his breathing got just that little bit louder.

Slower than a turtle working its way through a thick layer of peanut butter, Zack lowered himself onto his knees by the side of the bed. Scared tears pricked in his eyes as his shaky hand reached out to pull up the edge of the blanket that was blocking his view. There was a momentary pause then, one that told him to hightail it from the house in search of Lieutenant Rose, but he knew he had to be strong. What would be the worst he could find?

The light from the ceiling reflected off of dulled, blue eyes and a wide grin, and it felt like a train had crashed through the house’s frame, knocking the wind from Zack’s lungs as he fell over onto his side and scooted as far away as possible.

Everything made so much sense in that moment that it physically hurt.

Zack was… he was seeing Jordan jump out from the closet, fake blood dripping from his mouth as he growled—Jordan knew that Zack, just like many other people across the globe, was mortified of zombies.

Jordan had laughed for a good twenty minutes before he finally found it in himself to wash the red goo from his face, returning not too long afterward in order to receive his due punishment.

Zack had been especially rough. The younger man had deserved it, after all. There had been a gag, a blindfold, asphyxiation… had there been a whip? Or maybe it had been a paddle…

At one point near the end, Jordan had stopped responding. No matter what Zack did or said, no matter how hard he hit or where he scratched, he couldn’t get a reaction. If anything, that had only served to piss the elder off even more.

He continued to use his boyfriend’s body until he’d finally finished, the hand that was holding the cord that wrapped around Jordan’s neck tightening impossibly more as his body tensed and he groaned.

Still, there was no response.

Zack was still fired up about everything that had happened from the second he’d walked into the door up until that very minute, and he knew that he wanted a reaction more than anything. He wanted something to feel the pain he’d inflicted; he wanted to watch something suffer at his hands. If Jordan couldn’t feel it, he’d find something that could.

The animals were his only logical option.

He’d skinned them slowly in turn, relishing in the shrieks they made as they attempted to wriggle away from his grasp. It had been a messy job, and the clean-up was especially extensive. The grinding of pelts in the sink’s disposal, the vacuuming of the loose pieces of hair that clung to the floor, the perfect smearing of the blood on the wall in the closet.

Jordan was still lying on the bed in the bondage items he’d been put in nearly twelve hours beforehand. Really, Zack didn’t have the time to deal with it. He did have to get ready for work, in his defense.

All of the toys and torture devices had been put back into their appropriate drawers before Zack had come up with another problem: what was he supposed to do with his boyfriend?

Much pondering and deliberation gave Zack the answer he needed. Jordan wouldn’t be able to stand on his own in the closet without making a mess of all the pretty work the elder had done, but with just a few broken bones here and there, he’d surely fit under the bed without a problem.

With a final departing kiss to Jordan’s smiling lips, he’d been shoved under the bed to wait for his lover’s return.

Zack could feel his stomach churning far worse than it had at the hospital. He knew he wouldn’t do such a thing… but the memories and the evidence that was clear as day sure said otherwise. He’d gone too far; he’d become the monster Jordan had wanted him to be, and then he’d taken it a few steps past the borderline.

On wobbly appendages, the young man moved forward again. Except, instead of just looking at the mess he’d created, he reached his hands out and tugged Jordan from his hiding place. The stiff limbs protested against his pulling, and another few snaps seemed to echo through the air.

Jordan was still naked in his partner’s hold. There were multiple bruises and lacerations covering his torso, and when his head lolled back by accident, the dark outline of a thin cord wrapped itself around his neck. His skin was pale, almost looking blue in tinge, and he was freezing to the touch.

The buff man felt as numb as his partner did in his hold. Most of him did, at least. How could he have blocked something so horrific from his mind? How could he have just forgotten something so earth-shatteringly monumental?

Then again, a small part of him, one that he couldn’t quite locate, felt warm with… pride. It was warped and disgusting, but it was pride all the same. It made him feel powerful. He’d taken not one life, not even two, but five in a matter of hours, resulting in his own indescribable pleasure. He’d done it, and while it made him feel sick and like whatever fate he deserved wasn’t bad enough for what he’d done, he couldn’t stop that warm feeling from spreading.

He wanted more. He wanted more pain; more suffering. Only, he wanted to see it. He didn’t want it hidden away behind a gag or a blindfold… but he couldn’t do that. At least, not without a little more practice first. A different location, different tactics, different people.

Zack was just beginning to ponder other ways to mutilate a person, make them face death in as exhilarating a manner (for both of them) as possible, when the sound of the front door opening up wafted its way through the still air.

"Mr. Merrick? My employer called to let me know that he thinks it'd be best for me to stay on the premises with you for the night," the voice of Lieutenant Rose called, her wary footsteps creeping ever closer.

A malicious grin split Zack's lips. He was going to make the game his own.