Death Will Come When Thou Art Dead

Warning: Kiddies, get away now before this scars you for life. Contains slash, violence, swearing, and non-consensual sex.

* * * * *

Death will come when thou art dead,

Soon, too soon –

Sleep will come when thou art fled;

Of neither would I ask the boon

I ask of thee beloved night –

Swift be thine approaching flight,

Come soon, soon!

From "To Night" by P. B. Shelley

* * * * *

He only knew that he had hit the concrete by the putrid stench of blood and urine that filled his nostrils and the awful crunching sound his nose made. His nerve endings had long since cut off, mercifully sparing him for a few moments the agony that was his constant companion. A steel-toed boot thumped him in the back one last time, sending his limp carcass tumbling across the courtyard to land in a rag doll heap in a filthy puddle.

One word was all it needed. Crucio rang harsh in his ears, sending him tumbling over the edge into excruciating darkness splashed with pulsating red lights. How long it lasted, he didn’t know. It could have been years, or only a fleeting second. All he knew was the pain.

It started to rain, or perhaps it had been raining all along, he couldn’t really tell. The cool, pure water washed his wounds, slicking his matted hair to his head. It felt strangely warm, like the caress of his lover’s hand across his damaged skin, soothing, healing. Remus, where are you? He may have lain there for hours, or only minutes, but to him the time passed only too quickly, as did any time when he was left alone.

They always said he deserved it - that was, when they bothered to talk to him at all. Normally the only speech that passed any of their lips were animalistic yells punctuated by taunting catcalls as he huddled on the cold, cold ground. They had no sympathy, no humanity. Even after he had thrown up a curdling mixture of blood and vomit, they still kept going. Slimy, filthy dicks thrust into his every crevice, hands and feet constantly beating, kicking, until he lost consciousness. Every time, the same. His skin no longer felt a part of him, with its rancid covering of blood and come. Where was the warmth now? The tender touch and loving words whispered in his ear?

"Black! Get up!" The voice sounded slow and heavy, reaching Sirius through the syrupy fog that cushioned him. He attempted to lift his head but sank back as lightning bolts of pain pounded his skull.

"I said fucking get up, Black!"

Sirius let out a sigh. It took all of his strength to haul himself to his feet. His legs shook, but he held his head up, staring the guard full in the face. This one was new, wet behind the ears, easily scared.

"I have to take you back to your cell now," the guy gave Sirius a look that suggested he’d rather eat his own vomit. Sirius didn’t move.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he looked worried now, prisoners didn’t usually have enough sanity left to do anything but obey him. "Follow me."

"I need a doctor." The words rasped harshly against Sirius’s damaged throat as he forced them out. He followed them up by spitting some of the massed phlegm and blood out of his mouth. Even his own saliva now tasted of the foul come that had been forced down his throat, over and over.

The guard snickered. "Aww, poor baby wants a doctor. Does it hurt Black? I hope it does. Filthy whores like you deserve to hurt."

Sirius was unmoved. With determination that he never knew he possessed, he pushed thoughts of his pain-racked body to the back of his mind. He would have to try a different tack. He stepped boldly up to the incredulous guard and switched on his most smouldering gaze, the one which used to turn Remus to mush at his feet, or other places. "So I’m a whore, am I?" he laughed inwardly as the guard opened his mouth in shock. "Something tells me you’d like to see just how much of a whore I really am. Am I right?" the guard was practically slavering now. Sirius leaned up close to him, ready to whisper the final words, those that would make sure he saw the best doctor in the place.

But his resolve broke. His knees buckled and he slumped back onto the wet concrete, tearing agony flooding back through him. "I’m the fucking whore, am I?" he yelled, amazed that his voice still worked, hoping for the world to hear him. "Call yourselves fucking guards? It’s you cunts I need guarding from! Twisted, perverted…" He got no further. With a sickening crack, the guard brought his boot smashing down on Sirius’s head. Sirius just had time to register the extra pain, before the word "Stupefy" caused him to black out.

* * * * *

A few blinding flashes of light and pain darted across the perpetual darkness. Grey lines appeared and swam, criss-crossing each other, before rearranging themselves into the all too familiar bars of his cell.

The pain had definitely lessened. He ran a tentative hand over his face and noticed that some of the ugly gashes had been healed. Carefully he sat up, wriggling backwards until his back was supported by a wall. The sickness had gone, leaving only a faint residual dizziness, as the world tipped and turned before his eyes for a few minutes more, gradually stabilising.

He realised with impending horror and a sense of wretchedness that he was naked, meaning they were not done with him yet.

The man who entered the dank cell then was tall and heavily built, with close-cropped dark hair and a pudgy, clean-shaven face. From years of overhearing too many conversations, Sirius knew that his name was Barry, and that he was not well liked, even among the other guards. This was the man who, so long ago, had first brought Sirius to this room that was to become his living space, with a cold smirk on his face, as he had basked in Sirius’s look of horror at his filthy surroundings.

"I’ve had a complaint, Black." Barry’s voice was as disgusting as his personality, rich with cruelty and dripping sarcasm. "Watford says you were, shall we say…impertinent, to him earlier."

Sirius stood up, but kept his mouth shut.

"We don’t tolerate impertinence, Black. You of all people should know that by now," he leaned closer, until Sirius could smell his vile breath. "I think we’ll just have to punish you, won’t we." It was not a question.

Sirius’s heart fell to his stomach and squirmed there in despair. He knew only too well what Barry’s idea of a punishment for him was.

Abruptly, Barry shoved Sirius back against the wall and thrust his slimy tongue down his throat. Sirius gagged and tried instinctively to pull his head back, cracking it against the brick hard enough to see stars.

Barry pinned him there for what seemed like another few dismal hours but Sirius just didn’t have the strength to fight back. When he was finally released, he slumped onto his knees in the muck, retching and panting.

"Leave me alone," he paused and took a painful, gasping breath, hating himself for being so weak. "Please, just…" he tailed off as a fit of coughing wracked his broken body. "Please."

Barry watched him for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "I never thought I’d see you beg, Black. Always thought you were made of stronger stuff. Seems like I’ve given you too much credit – you’re just as fucking pathetic as the rest of them." He took as step towards the huddled shape on the floor. "You don’t think I’d just leave it at that, do you?" An evil grin flickered across his face. "No, you’ve still got it coming to you, Black." He kicked the prone figure so that it rolled onto its front, then unzipped his trousers.

As though from a great distance away, Sirius watched the scene unfolding from the safe place in the back of his mind that his brain had long since retreated to. There seemed to be some sort of weird television screen, playing a hideous film of his own body being horrendously beaten and raped yet again. As he watched, the image became blurred, and finally disappeared altogether.

Sirius sighed and raised his arms in joyful welcome of oblivion.

* * * * *

There’s a light at the end of this tunnel somewhere, I’m just a little too far back to see it right now. Lily, James, wait for me at the other end, will you? I’ll be joining you as soon as they’ll let me die. I’m sorry Remus, my love; I can’t hold on long enough to see you again.

I just can’t take any more pain.