thedifferencebetween

[ This is bad. This is bad, this is so so bad...

His panic only grows when a hand wraps itself around his throat. And then it starts to press in, to the point where it makes sucking in oxygen a real chore. All the while Jack is talking like he's having a normal conversation, talking to his neighbors. Not like he's about ready to commit a murder or anything.

Rhys is so happy his Pokemon aren't here right now. Or Vaughn. Or shit, even Fi.

He coughs into Jack's hand, pushing as hard as he can to make Jack stagger. Rhys isn't sure what's behind him, if anything at all, but anything to make Jack lose his balance so he can run. He's practically radiating desperation. ]

[Son of a taint!]

[Jack grunts as he bends his knees and leans back, trying to keep his feet. He can do this just as well flat on his back, but the sound of them falling might draw attention.]

Just stop...fighting! You brought this on yourself, Rhys! I warned you. I gave you chance after chance. No more Mr. Nice Jack. Next time you think about talking back, you're gonna remember what happens!

[Oh god, he can feel Rhys' throat flexing under his hand. That little give. The press of all the tubing and cartridge inside. Each little rumble and gasp, right against his palm and fingers. There's few better feelings in the world.]

[His feet are slipping. Rhys just won't stay still! Pretty little bastard.]

[ Rhys wants to say something, he really does. But when your mouth is covered and it's getting harder to breathe, it's a challenge. A really, really big challenge.

His chest hurts, quite a lot actually. Jack is slowly pushing against his windpipe, making breathing almost impossible. The sound of his heartbeat in his head is deafening, but he knows he's choking. Something inside of his throat literally shifts, and he makes some kind of strangled whimper.

He has to fight, he has to try... But his arms are getting heavy, and the pain in his chest is so bad now he can barely even see. Rhys is merely scratching at Jack's hands; trying to do anything else is asking for too much. He can barely even hold himself up anymore.

Not good... ]

[Jack has killed a lot of people. He's lost count of the numbers. He's done it in so many different ways, but there's something special about strangulation.]

[He can feel Rhys' strength ebbing out of him. Literally feel it. He's holding the kid's life in his hands. And he's slowly crushing it. There's just nothing better. There really isn't.]

[But Jack's been here long enough to know what happens if he goes all the way with his wayward employee. Rhys will wake up in the hospital, fine and dandy after just a day. That's unacceptable.]

[So he loosens his grip just a little, as he feels Rhys' fingers scrabble against his hand.]

There we go...oh god, you're so close, Rhys. Are you getting that black at the edge of your eyes? That kinda dizzy feeling? Everything's getting heavy? That's your brain dying, Rhys. Do you understand that all I gotta do to kill you is just clench my fingers? Just nod, don't try and talk.

[ Just when he thinks it's all over, the grip on his throat loosens. Rhys would think that shows a sign of something worse is going to happen, but his brain is foggy and his thoughts are a clouded, jumbled mess. The second Jack gives Rhys an ounce of an opportunity to breathe, he's gasps for air against his hand, body shaking with the effort.

It's hard to hear, but Jack talks...and holy hell is it scary. With every gasp he can make out a little more, but the weakness is still there. His head lols against Jack's hand, his shoulders sag. There's hardly any fight in him anymore.

When he's told to, Rhys listens. He nods only once, throat on fire, neck searing with pain. There's not much more he can do.

Except for one thing. Against Jack's hand, sounding all horse and muffled, he'll whisper 'please'. ]

That's right, beg me. Now we're getting somewhere!

[Jack keeps the pressure consistent, allowing Rhys just enough breath to comprehend him. He turns, propping himself against the wall, holding the younger man tightly. What shampoo does he use? That's nice. Smells good.]

[Or maybe that's just the sweet scent of terror.]

And you understand how easy this was for me? This? This is a warning, sweetcheeks. This is the tip of the iceberg of pain that I'm capable of causing you.

[He gives one more firm squeeze and then releases, ready to grab Rhys if he falls. Which Jack is expecting. Rhys...looks pretty red in the face. Wow. That's a good look on him, all breathless and ready to piss himself in fear.]

[ He would again, but he has no breath. Why hasn't he passed out yet? This hurts. Everything right now, every cell is starved for oxygen and they're telling him so.

Something moves him, his back suddenly props against something solid. It had to have been Jack who did that, who else would? His legs are shaking, just like the rest of his body; if it wasn't for Jack, Rhys wouldn't be standing. Rhys' head is against the wall, where he stares at the older man in front of him with a glassy, half lidded stare.

He's conscience enough to comprehend what Jack was saying. Things can get worse. Things will get worse. This was a punishment that honestly, Rhys wasn't expecting. It was stupid of him, so, so stupid...

Then there's enough pressure on his throat to make the black dots that had been swimming in his vision come back tenfold. His lungs explode with pain and he lets out a strangled moan, and then-

nothing. ]

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FINALLY i can reply to this right if you want me to fix/redo anything let me know!