bamboo doesn't grow in dark spaces. [80K Words / Complete]

chapter ten. ?

Case screamed. Pain. Fire and broken glass tearing his ligaments. "Let go!"

Wordless, Sir complied. Releasing his hold of Case's arm. Crouching behind him. Pulling their bodies closer together.

"Get off me!" Case shouted, feeling rough jeans against his bare legs. Feeling Sir mounting him from behind. Feeling the tip of Sir's erection through their clothes. "Get the fuck off me!"

Sir's arms reached forward, seizing the pants Case had been wearing moments before.

"Get–gaak!" Sir pulled the pant leg around his neck. Strangling him from behind.

Case reared back on his knees. Clawed at the fabric. Feeling it tight against the hollow dent in his neck. Feeling it cinch his windpipe.

"You really want to hang yourself?" Sir's deep, scary grown-up man voice rumbled against Case's ear. His breath was hot and humid with spit and ire. "Is this how you want to go?"

Wheezing. Sputtering. Choking.

He's killing me, Case thought. Tugging at the pants, unable to pull them away.

Light-headed. Pounding in his ears. The inside of his eyelids flashing red.

I'm going to die. Fuck. I'm going to die.

Teeth against his earlobe.

I don't want to die—

Mustering all his strength, Case swung his arm. His elbow rammed into Sir's nose. Sharp, tingling pain in his funny bone as it made contact.

Sir yelped—"Fuck!"

The compression around Case's neck disappeared.

Case fell forward. Coughing. Ragged breaths escaping his throat. He rolled over. Chest heaving as he wheezed for air. Oxygen flooded his lungs. Relief flooded his brain. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit–

Sir pounced on him. Straddling his hips. Pinning him down. Hands around his neck. Sir's face hovered over him—red with rage, strained with determination.

Oh, shit.

Case clawed Sir's hands. Nails sinking into skin.

Fingers tightened. Squeezing. Crushing his Adam's apple. Crushing his esophagus.

Get off me . . . Case thrashed under Sir. Kicking, bare feet scrambling against the concrete. Hips bucking, thrusting beneath Sir, desperate to shake him off.

Pressure built inside his head. Throbbing, bulging. Eyeballs threatening to pop from their sockets.

Can't breathe . . . stop . . .

Sir's thumbs slid up Case's neck, stopping below his jawline. Stopping against his rapidly pulsing jugular. He tilted Case's head. Shook him like a Boggle tray, his brain rattling against his skull. Case's mouth fell open in a strangled, silent scream.

Release.

Sir eased away, allowing Case to desperately suck in air. Hacking cough, rasping breath.

Constriction.

Sir tightened his grip. Taking away Case's breath just as readily as he had given it.

The corners of Case's eyes prickled with tears. Stop . . .

His limbs sagged. His scratching hands fell limp to the floor. His surroundings blurred and blacked out as he slipped into dark recesses of unconsciousness. The dark recess of death.

"You know what?" Sir whispered, his voice muffled, only recognizable by its heat against Case's face. "I think you're all talk."

Sir pulled away, freeing his hold over Case.