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This was it, he was finally going to be put down. He couldn’t even find it in himself to resist more then a few half-hearted tugs, which hurt his wrists more then it did anything to deter this walk to death. His once strong muscles left to nothing but bone, it seemed long ago the times when he made the man struggle and need back up to try to bring him anywhere. No more did did he hear him snark “At least take me to dinner first, Pals~ I know I’m a real catch~” and other admittedly cocky things till his mouth was bleeding from how many hits on his head he got.
The ever present smirk that curled his lips slowly shrinking and shrinking, till one day it was gone too. All the beatings, the threats, he would’ve been fine if it was just him alone. He could take care of himself easy as pie, slip away into the night and lick his wounds till he seemed just as picture perfect as he wanted. Unfazed by any of the messes he’s been in before, and he’s been in a dime a dozen. Whatever could be named, he’s probably experienced, or been threatened with…. he used to be so big, that curled smirk on his lips even as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Living for himself, there was nothing that could’ve been done to him. Untouchable. Unbreakable.
That is what eventually led to this, a gasp leaving as he tripped over a root, already closing his eyes and baring his neck. Prepared to do anything to be given forgiveness, his pride all but gone too, yet nothing happened as he just felt a pull till he was trudging on again. Illinois just couldn’t wrap his head around when that happened, or how to fix that… was it the first time he didn’t get to his knees on his own accord in that horrid place? The scream that rang in his head, over and over and over, the whimpers and sobs he listened to as blood splattered onto his face. He could’ve saved those two, he had tried… but that just ended up with him stuck in a tiny cage, arms bound behind his back, one eye swollen shut, body throbbing in various places from the hits and kicks, and gagged with some blue rubber bone bit-like gag that was meant to make him feel worthless.
“Good pets listen…. and in time, you’ll be a perfect pet. Won’t you, Illinois?”
That’s what he had been told, over and over and over. When his ‘misdeeds’ caused the others to suffer instead of him, when he started to make them…. proud. Begging on command, just so the others could have a scrap of food or some water. Biting down on his panic when he would get his hair pet, which eventually turned to guilt as he began to crave those nice and gentle touches. Fight weaned from him, slowly but surely, all because he no longer was living for himself. The others had families… he had no one. They deserved the ability to eventually break free, so they needed their strength, and to live, more then him. They didn’t melt either for their tormentors, they were different in how they were kept… and he’s outlived his usefulness now, hasn’t he?
Broken, both in spirit and in body. He doesn’t even respond to his name anymore, when that just gets them all punished. He wasn’t as pretty as he once was, looking like a ghost of himself, and despite being made to know that’s where his worth was… it had to have run out.
So it surprised him, when he was instructed to close his eyes. Body tensed, as a small breeze was felt against his bare back, waiting for the ‘BANG’. He failed them, he couldn’t protect them anymore, he just wished he could’ve told him he loved them one more time.
His wrists were lighter, as a small click filled the air instead. Making him flinch back hard, but he didn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t about to disobey are order, if he was no longer going to be around soon, it would be taken right back out on them. This one last act he could do, even if it meant he died being nothing but a pathetic mess of who he used to be.
When he could breath easier too though, his eyes shot open. Mouth parting to try to breathe fully for the first time in who knows how long, as a strangled whimper sounded that did nothing to deter him. The leather collar, it was peeled off, revealing a neck so dark in bruise from being yanked at, dragged, just how tight the collar had been secured in the first place. Blood starting to trail down his body, sluggishly climbing over his collar bone, as old wounds that had healed under the collar opened back up. He stopped when his head was tilted up, swallowing back those whimpers as he panted for more and more air, truly getting none in his effort to get all. Those same fingers that both harmed him, and held him, caressing one last time over his face before dropping.
It was uncharacteristic, and made all that anxiety that Illinois tried to tamp down on, to accept his death, surge up as he left. No words, no orders, no nothing. The chains he had been on the ground before his feet, watching as his collar was idly tossed over a branch as he just kept walking. Only his own pants filling the air, along with the rustle of the wind on leaves, and birdsong. He loved his voice…. why wasn’t he using it to hurt him more? Why was he alive still?
Was this a test? He could just walk away from this all right now. Run, and pray to any gods that would hear him, to any of the heavens he’s been to, even bee heaven, to protect him as he got the hell away from all this madness. Never have to crawl again, or beg, find himself a new job so he doesn’t chance getting whipped by his own whip anymore, no beatings, no…. no hurting anymore.
He almost did it, one foot tentatively stepping over the shackles like it was a bear trap. Toes curling in the cool soil as he put more and more weight down, wincing as everything just brought more pain. But…. he faltered, as he stared down at the chains. If he left, they most certainly would die if this was a test, and he himself dragged back to be a good pretty pet to relieve boredom again. All the anger issues he had… even if this wasn’t a test, maybe he would think loyalty had been instilled, and relax his grip on the others so they had a chance to run, if Illinois went back.
It was hardly a decision, he’d do anything for them, he couldn’t doom them to death. One by way of him failing, other by never being able to get them out, or give them an opportunity to go free.
Picking up his shackles, the familiar weight back on his arms as he pressed the cold chains to his cut up chest, he turned back around. Face curling up into a faint smirk one last time as he urged himself forward, trying to mentally prep himself for this he’ll, till he was close enough to the branch to reach up and grab his collar. Placing that familiar leather back on, he took a few last deep breaths before he was walking again, following the path right back to where he was waiting.
“Good boy, Pet.”