Chapter Text
“Hey… hey!” The guy yelled, but Jamie didn’t answer, caught up in his own thoughts ever since the hood was taken off his head to reveal his surroundings. He didn’t recognize where he was; it smelled like a trash dump but seemed pretty barren otherwise. “I’m talking to you- get the fuck up!” Jamie blinked once, turning his attention to the man with the gun.
“The hood was an excellent choice-.” The masked man slammed his fist just below Jamie’s sternum, catching him off guard and forcing him to double over and expel a hard groan as the air slammed out of him.
“There’s a few ground rules you’re going to get used to.” The man stared at him, watching as he struggled to get a breath. “And you’d better get used to them fast if I were you.” He threw a small bundle of clothes at Jamie, nodding as he caught them. “Take those off and put these on.”
Jamie let out an uncomfortable and unimpressed laugh, turning the clothes over in his hands. “Why?” …
He learned fast after that night to not question the men who took him.
The nightfall was the only escape from an endless string of different torture methods; it didn’t last long though, the sun always began creeping up mere minutes before Jamie could fall into anything more than semi-unconsciousness. With the mornings came new and sometimes worse methods and ideas to get him to spill the secrets his captors were desperate to know.
He sat in the dingy basement, staring up at the slivers of moonlight that fought their way in through the cracked and boarded up window for a while. His mind always wandered during the still of night; questioning if he’d ever be found again— or if anyone was even looking for him. He had a little faith left that maybe Kayce would still be looking, but there was no faith that John had sent anyone out to do the dirty work of finding him— and even if he had, Beth surely had destroyed any chance of it succeeding or continuing. He wasn’t a “real” Dutton after all. Thoughts ran through his mind like wildfire, but he always ended up with the lingering feeling of complete despair; certain more than ever that all he’d be was a skeleton some kid twenty years from then would be digging up.
He tilted his head back, letting it thump against the cracked and bowing foundation walls. He yawned, his lips chapped and aching from how dry and cracked they were. The deepest of the cuts were finally starting to heal, but they still hurt with the yawn. Rolling his head to the side, all Jamie could think of was how thirsty he was, how… maybe they’d cave and give him a sip of water if he just told them what they wanted. But he couldn’t do it… he had to prove, not just to the imagined hallucinations of Beth and John that visited him in his delirium- but to himself too, that he wasn’t a coward, he wasn’t a traitor— he wasn’t a mistake.
He drifted, exhaustion rushing through his body as his eyes closed for a few minutes- leaving his guard down completely.
A wet hand smacked the shit out of him in a heartbeat— he didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, just that the fiery sting of the slap made his jaw go slack, doubling over in discomfort and pressing his cheek against his shoulder that had hitched up from the sudden force of the hit. The man grabbed onto a chunk of his hair; giving a hard yank to pull him up to his feet by force. He winced at the pain, standing with ease even through his exhaustion. His ability to stand seemed to be taken as a slight though, the man shoved him back against the wall, hard enough that his head knocked back against the concrete with a dull thud and his shoulder blades bruised even deeper than they already felt.
“Are you ready to talk today?” The man asked, his head was shaved and tattoos littered the greasy looking skin, his eyes had a creepy way of leering at Jamie, counting down the seconds until he could unleash a new string of threats and promises to the captive Dutton. “It’s day 97. I’m running out of things to do and you… well you are running out of days to refuse me…” the words made Jamie’s head spin, he felt like throwing up and dying at the same time. All he could really long for was the sweetness of death when it was this guy leading the sentencing of the day. “You know I always thought a guy like you would be more fun… louder and easier to break you know?” He asked, turning Jamie’s face towards his own, tracing the line of his jaw with the blade of his knife. “You’re no fun when you try to fight me with silence.” He taunted him, laughing at the way he could feel Jamie shiver at the words.
He pressed the knife against the soft tissue beneath Jamie’s ear and just under his jaw, digging the tip in and dragging it forward, the hot red blood spilling down his neck and into the disgustingly saturated shirt. Jamie bit down hard on the insides of his cheeks, fighting hard to keep the pained groan from bubbling out. A scream was nothing but a prize to these type of men. An elbow to the mouth prevented him from winning that round. It was a sharp and startled sort of shout that followed, Jamie felt his knees almost buckle, leaning over to cup his face and force himself to shut up. Make no noise and give them no satisfaction. He forced himself to stay standing, his mouth filling with blood and his shoulder cold from the sticky thick, blood oozing down his jawline. “Fuck you.” He spat blood at his captors feet, watching as it splattered against the man’s shoes and pants. He tried to stand up tall and pull back to stare him in the eye; that momentary pride cost him more than he could pay. The man lurched his head forward, colliding his forehead with Jamie’s brow line in a headbutt that made Jamie’s ears ring and his vision double and go blurry, he lost his footing and slid down the wall, his palms hitting the damp floor with the sound of a sticky smack, his expression dazed while he struggled to regain his bearings.
He didn’t fight while being dragged across the floor, instead forcing the man to drag him up a flight of steps as roughly as possible. He didn’t protest or plead for freedom or beg anyone to stop… he just, shut down. It was over three months and nobody was coming to find him, nobody. The upper floors of whatever crack den he was being housed at smelled like piss and a plethora of other bodily fluids. The body of a man lying in a coagulated pool of blood with his face blown off and an arm that looked like an animal had torn it off in a desperate attempt to stave off starvation caught Jamie’s attention. He could see maggots crawling around and eating the caved in chest cavity of the corpse and most of his skin had a slimy and green sort of leatheriness to it; the stench made him gag to the point where the guy dragging him crouched down and just smiled. As if that was punishment enough.
“We know what you want… but you’re not gonna get it.” He pulled Jamie close at first then shoved him down onto his back so he was laying in the pool of blood. Jamie’s eyes were intense and wide, but his brows furrowed like a feral animal stuck in a corner. The man crouched down again, “Nobody’s gonna ever know what happened to you.” He laughed, his teeth were rotten and discolored— and a line of drool seeped through his them, he looked like a crazed animal- a rabid dog. Jamie couldn’t turn his head to the side without it squelching in the blood around him, the stench unbearable as he laid there. “Does that make you sad, little boy?” The taunt didn’t go unnoticed, the depravity in the man’s eyes didn’t either. Jamie didn’t have the energy to speak, he just stared, angrily up at the monster in human clothing.
Another month passed, then another- after some time he stopped keeping track. His hair grew long, always messy to aid in the disheveled and subhuman mindset he was pressed into. The rarities where he could clean were just that, rare and almost impossible to come across. Jamie was used to being the punching bag for the different men and women working for whoever had first taken him hostage. There wasn’t anything they hadn’t done to him that hadn’t broken him; but he never let on— maybe that had been his mistake. Maybe he was supposed to have cried and screamed and begged for mercy. Maybe he was supposed to plead for them to not do what they would eventually have done anyway… maybe if he’d just told them the secrets of the Yellowstone and his father and siblings. Maybe then they wouldn’t have taken things so far.. maybe then he wouldn’t just be waiting for the end to just happen. Just take him out of his misery. What happened to him he planned to take to the grave anyway— how would he ever look the people he’d considered family in the eye again with everything they’d done to him? If he could disguise the brokenness then he could act like it never happened. He figured that could hold a sort of honor in his death.
The thunder cracked loud against the skies, the downpour was freezing and the wind whipped it around like sheets of ice. Jamie sat huddled up against the side of the shed with his ankles and wrists bound together awkwardly while the rain drenched him from all angles. His knees were hiked up with his arms outstretched between them, it was like a forced fetal position somewhat; it was uncomfortable and all he could do was try to shift himself sideways against the she’d into a position where he could just barely attempt to conserve heat in his core. The position tugged at his shoulders though, they felt like they’d pop out of place with any movement and his hips were sore like he’d tried to sit in a butterfly position. He couldn’t stand whenever he was positioned like that, being kept out in the rain was just a form of punishment anytime that sort of weather came; just another way to dehumanize him. He yawned, hardly able to keep himself awake, the hypothermia from the rain was lulling him to sleep and… and he just wanted to sleep.
The sound of a shotgun cocking startled Jamie enough to open his eyes, the figure looming over him shadowed by the rain and night sky.
“Hey! Get away from him!” A man from the house barged out of a side door, barreling down the steps into the rain, the blast of gunshots filling the air and his body collapsed into the mud. another side door and a back door swung open with more men running out with weapons; Jamie found himself suddenly surrounded by the hailing sparks of gunshots and men in tactical gear swarming the property, taking down one after another like they were just practice targets. The shouting and screaming felt like it lasted an eternity; Jamie didn’t move once though, he just watched with a stare that stretched a thousand miles until finally someone grabbed him by the shoulder and set him off; awakening some primal need for survival in him.
He was yanking at the chains that kept him bound together and screaming— pleading for them to “Wait- just wait— you don’t have to do this! I’m not one of them- I’m not one of them- I’m not one of them, wait, please— please I’m not one of them- you don’t have to do this, please!” Hands were fighting to grab hold of him, arms shoving other arms away, his hands and feet still bound in chains he was pulling against so hard the skin was becoming raw and inflamed. “Stop it- stop— stop!” Someone was grabbing his face trying to hold him still, trying to push wet hair from his eyes and face, trying to hold him still while he fought against them violently. The only image in his head was of the man from months before with his face blown apart and maggots devouring him. “Please wait just wait, I’m not one of them- I’m not one of them!”
“Jamie!” The voice was familiar, but the panic of the moment was stronger than the recognition.