To Hell and Back

by Tealous

Summary:

Lute finds herself in more than just a spot of trouble while on her way to Adam’s party. She’s kidnapped! The dumb shit she has to go through just to see her best friend’s face again… he better know how much she loves him.

And how desperate she is to get back to him and out of this fucked situation.

Chapter 1

“And then the cunt had the audacity to ask me to move out! After breaking up with me, me ! Over fucking nothing! I only left her on read like, four times! How was I supposed to know it was urgent? The bitch knows I sleep in past two. Honestly it’s her fault for not taking that into consideration when vying for my attention. I don’t know what the fuck an epipen is, or why the fuck that dick-digger left it in the fridge. But, I’m not just going to start randomly looking for your crap when I’m in the middle of some Z’s, ya’dig?” Adam complained, smacking the table in front of them harshly. The wooden surface shuddered under the pressure, creaking sadly from its continued abuse. 

 

Lute didn’t even look up.

 

She merely hummed in response to his story, gaze never leaving the colorful depiction of cartoon cats on her phone. The rush of dopamine had its cute, deadly claws in her brain, and they only seemed to dig themselves deeper the longer she swiped up on her screen. However, she did offer a noncommittal, “So it’s over?” 

She was hoping he’d take that as a hint to shut the fuck up about gravel-face or bitch-tits or whatever the fuck her name was. She was hoping the story was over. Sadly, his royal ass-wipe took that as a prompt to continue.

“Apparently, yeah. Shit was annoying as fuck to upkeep, though. She kept asking to go through my phone and shit. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t seeing any other bitches or whatever. I kept telling her ‘ babe, no, it’s just you I’m dicking around with. What kind of cuckhold fuck do you take me for?’ But, she didn’t believe me. She kept saying she could smell another whore’s perfume on me, or she’d find that one strand of hair that could be anyone’s. Paranoid bitch.” He picked at his teeth absentmindedly, a foot raising up to press against the edge of the table. He shrugged as he started precariously balancing on the back legs of his chair. Living life on the edge and to its fullest.

“……… But weren’t you fucking other chicks?” Lute raised an eyebrow at him as she took a sip of her coffee. The burst of barely sweetened, hazelnut cream washed over her tastebuds in an instant… before burning them alive from the lava passing her lips. “Pretty sure you were fucking me that entire time.”

“That’s different, milf-hips.” She stamps on his still-grounded foot the moment he utters that disgrace of a nickname, and he hisses, flailing and jerking back from her. His chair immediately teeters backwards, but she catches the edge of it with her foot, keeping him from falling outright. Saving him and the hospital a headache… for now. But, she doesn’t drag him back up quite yet.

“And how is that different?” She sets her coffee down, gaze momentarily flickering upwards to savor his panicked one. He was trying to keep still, in hopes that his lackluster balance wouldn’t fail him.

“You’re like—- my sister. The hot, sexy step-sister that shows up one day, stuck in a dryer and begging for dick. Fucking you is a no-brainer, danger-tits.” 

 

“………” She lets him fall.

 

“Ow —-!! Fucking, bitch! ” He yelps, a loud crash and crack filling the air as she just. Returns back to her phone. Ignoring the idiot wallowing on the ground before her. He’d get over it… or die an embarrassing death trying. She was pretty sure he was ninety percent ego and ten percent all the rubbers he refused to put on. There was plenty of hot air there to cushion his fall. 

Grumbling loudly, Adam slowly pulled himself to his feet and brushed the dirt and grime from his clothes. He was just straightening his chair when the waiter came around with their breakfast. An absolutely stuffed cucumber and salmon bagel that was just oozing cream cheese was set down in front of Lute. A knife was stabbed precariously into the top, likely left there as an option to divy up the monstrosity. Adam got chili cheese fries, like a basic bitch boy. They looked disgustingly greasy.

 

Of course, Lute immediately stole one off of his plate.

 

“So, where are you crashing now? I assume you’ve found a place, since you aren’t asking to bum at mine.” She snaps a quick picture of her meal (purely for bragging rights to make her roommate jealous) as Adam plops into his seat. 

“Sera’s letting me crash in the garage. Emily picked up some fucking, overstuffed, ratty couch off the side of the road. Apparently one of her friends is into restoring old shit like that. Especially furniture. Something about a lame ass rehab branding itself as a hole in the ground hotel.” His hand crept towards her coffee, intent on plucking it from the table before she could notice. 

Without looking, Lute grabbed one of his fingers and twisted his hand in an unnatural manner. Her voice was calm and steady… but her tone was dark and unforgiving. “Don’t fucking touch my coffee.”

“Jesus fuck babe! Ow—- OW !! Let go already —-! I get the fucking point, cunt.” She let go, and he quickly jerked his hand back. He rubbed at sore fingers with a scowl, before reaching for his plate with his good hand. “Fucking hell. I don’t know how you lost that Vaggie bitch when you’re that good with your hands.”

In an instant, the knife sticking out from her bagel was slammed into the table. Right between his fingers. Missing them by mere centimeters as he froze completely, eyeing the trembling blade warily. “……. Still sore she left the band?”

“I’m sore that she left me for some bleeding heart bitch. Like little miss rainbows could give her a better fuck than me . Bitch doesn’t look like she’s ever touched a tit in her life, much less finger-blasted someone ‘til they’re moaning like a whore.” Adam slowly removed the knife from the table and placed it out of Lute’s immediate vicinity. He was likely worried she wouldn’t miss again. Not that she’d missed at all; she wasn’t aiming for his hand. “She said she needed someone more emotionally available and stable or whatever. Some bullshit like that.”

She snatched up half of her bagel and bit into it angrily. Adam dragged his plate closer to himself, before unceremoniously shoving a handful of those dripping fries into his mouth. He moaned unabashedly, head tilting back at the unadulterated pleasure of last minute hangover food.

“Sucks you split, though.” Adam points a cheesy fry at her. Bits of food crumbled from his mouth as he talked with it full. “You two liked to make out and get all frisky-fingered when you got drunk. It was hot as fuck. Well, until pissy-pants started throwing shoes and shit at me for staring. Which, I don’t know how I’m not supposed to stare. You’re practically bumping uglies on the couch , cunt. It’s not my fault you suddenly decided to keep it in your pants.”

“Can we talk about anything else? Even your dick is preferable to our current topic.” Lute glowered at him, and she flicked a glob of cream cheese at his face. He didn’t seem to notice or care.

“That’s because this dick is the best dick to have ever dicked, baby. I’ve got whores lining up around every corner just for a chance to worship these nuts.” He sucked a dribble of chili cheese from his thumb. His face and hands were a mess. She really hoped the waiter returned with a stack of napkins soon. “Just wished that meant more free food and less footing the bill. Speaking of…”

 

Her scowl intensified. “ No. ”

 

“Aww, come on babe! I’m a broken man! I just lost my girl and my crib in one day! I’m not exactly liquid right now…” Adam wiped his hands across his shirt, smearing his breakfast all over himself.

Lute pinched the bridge of her nose, and she slowly set down her bagel. She had to mentally remind herself not to kill the man in front of her, no matter how big of a headache he was. “… Why… did you invite me out if you couldn’t pay .” 

“Because you’ve always got, like, fifty bucks in cash on you at all times. I knew you could cover it, sugar-tits.” He reasoned, reaching forward to try and snag the other half of her bagel. He immediately withdrew from it when she leveled a glare in his direction.

“Why don’t you get a job and pay for your own shit for once, piss-brain.” Despite her heated words, she pulls out her wallet and starts counting out the required cash. With a decent tip, of course. She wasn’t that much of a monster. He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off quickly. “The occasional gig you manage to rig up for the band doesn’t count. It’s not making us money.”

“… Yet. ” He grumbled, shoveling a few more fries into his mouth. “Whatever. Part of the reason I dragged your ass out here is because I wanted to invite you over. Sera and Emily are going on a vacation or some namaste, spiritual retreat bullshittery, and it’s halfway across the country. So, I’m throwing a party. Gonna liven things up a little. Maybe even break into the liquor Sera keeps stashed in her room. She’s convinced Emily doesn’t know about it, but the little fucker was the one who told me where it was.”

“Pretty sure if you wreck the place, Sera’s gonna be pissed. Might wanna stock up on a few dozen trash bags and hide all the antiques she’s got hanging up. Either that, or lock the doors to keep people out. Heaven knows what that bitch will do to you if you so much as break a vase.” She passed him her napkin since the waiter still wasn’t back. “Better yet, maybe hold off on the party? Pretty sure Sera’s going to shit a brick when she finds out, anyways. Might dodge another bullet called eviction if you just call the whole thing off.”

She took another sip of her coffee, noting dully how it’d cooled slightly. Adam was busy tearing the cheap napkin to shreds with the oversized mess on his face and hands. “Nah, Sera loves me. Bitch can’t get enough of me, and neither can —- wait. Where the fuck did this cream cheese come from ???”

Lute hides her smile behind her takeout cup, and she has to clear her throat to keep from laughing. God this man was stupid. “… Alright, just text me the details, and I’ll be there. Should I bring my bass? I need to know if I’ll be stealing any bitches from you.”

“You’re over here cock-blocking me, and the party hasn’t even started yet, you fuck!” Adam scowled, hurling the soggy napkin at her head. She sidesteps it easily as she stands from her chair. “I’m always down for a jam sesh, but you better save me at least a few chicks.”

“Keep up your bitching and whining, and I might just take them all. Coax every one of them into my bed and leave your ass with blue balls.” She snatches up her wallet, before turning to walk away. “I’m going to pay. Don’t touch my coffee, or I’ll fry your dick off with it.”

“ Ohhh! Don’t touch my coffee, or I’ll fry your dick off with it! Fuckin’ bitch… blue balls my ass… Like she can even fuck that many chicks at once… ” He muttered under his breath… before starting to shovel even more fries into his mouth. “……… it’d be hot to see, though…”

She flips him off as she retreats towards the host stand, not bothering to look back. He was probably offering up a double whammy and thinking his two for one special flip off was more than superior. Smug bastard.

 

———————-

 

The darkness of night pressed around her in a chilling, dismal display. The street lamps in this shithole of a city were few and far in between, and the ones that did work did nothing but flicker like stars above. Not that Lute could see the stars; gray clouds were gathering above, hiding them all. The scrape of her shoes against wet concrete were her only indicator that they’d been there long enough to rain. Although, considering she wasn’t getting absolutely soaked right now, it had only been a spattering drizzle. More would likely roll in before the end of the hour.

As if to answer that very thought, the heavens above rumbled drearily. The sound was soft and distant, but she still paused, head tilting. Listening to the soft, approaching storm. Sighing, Lute tightened her grip on her bass and trudged ahead. The case was heavy and awkward in her hand, and it smacked against her hip with each step she took. It was annoying.

Normally, she’d catch a bus or have her roommate drive her to where she needed to be. But, it was late. Besides, Adam was couch surfing at Sera’s, and that was only a couple blocks from her place. She’d jogged farther than that during her morning workouts. Hell, she’s dragged Adam on jogs farther than that, much to his displeasure. That prick would spend all day scarfing down nachos in bed, if he could. She actually gave a shit about his health, unlike the bastard himself.

Honestly, walking to the party wasn’t really the annoying part. Carrying her heavy ass bass the entire way was . It was a lot of effort for a future headache. Hell, she didn’t even like parties that much. It always involved loud ass music, a crowd of fifty people she didn’t know , and at least one asshole who would try to drug her drink the moment she looked away. The second they figured out that happened, Adam always threw himself at the guy and got his ass kicked. And then Lute had to kick in the fucker’s teeth for two reasons. For trying to make an ass out of her and successfully making an ass out of her best friend.

 

Not that she didn’t appreciate the effort on Adam’s end. 

 

The man was just as much ride or die as she was. She knew he’d go to hell and back just to fight any bastard who’d dare to fuck with her, and he knew she’d do just the same for him. If he needed ten bucks for groceries, she had twenty ready. If he was arrested and needed a bail, she was already outside with cash or dynamite. If he needed help hiding a body, she’d have the bleach and gloves ready. 

 

Not that they’d run across that particular problem. Yet. 

 

They had each other’s backs. They were best friends… with a few benefits. And that was exactly why Lute was going to this lame ass party. She wanted to hang out and eat the terrible cheese dip with the lame ass host. She wanted to drink shitty beer out of those fragile red cups and play a drunken jam session until her eyes crossed. Because, he was worth the headache. 

 

She just wished that effort didn’t include dragging a twenty pound instrument down the street. 

 

Groaning to herself, Lute slowed to a stop and gently set her bass on the driest spot of ground she could find. She only had one more block to go, but the damned thing was murder on her muscles. She took a moment to stretch and roll out her aching shoulders and back, giving her bicep a moment of respite. Honestly, she was considering just skipping tomorrow’s gym visit. Either that, or keeping it light. Between this and the fact that she hadn’t even started drinking yet, she supposed the jury was still out. 

 

… And the house was still a block away. 

 

She had to keep going if she wanted to get there at all. Sighing, Lute leaned down to scoop up her instrument. However, she paused at the sudden realization that she still heard footsteps. Slow, quiet scrapes of shoes against wet concrete. Deliberate in their steady, soft steps… and growing closer . 

Every nerve in her body jolted with a sudden rush of anxiety and adrenaline. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her heart began to pound in her ears. Irrational and uninviting. She was alone . At night . In the middle of a barely lit , desolate street. It could be nothing; it probably was nothing. But she’d heard too many horror stories and cold case podcasts to be certain. 

She slowly straightens, a hand slipping into her pocket and curling around her phone. Her gut reaction was to call Adam. To let him know she was about to stab or be stabbed by a motherfucker. Her next thought was a bit more rational. She should probably call the cops before ever dialing that dumbass. Then again, she could probably deal with one cock-sucker on her own. She’s taken on worse than a spontaneous mugging. 

Her fingers slip from around her phone and fall back to her side. Steeling her nerves and gritting her teeth, Lute turned towards the approaching prick and glared . Usually, that alone was enough to send most pricks scrambling. The sight of some broad showing even a hint of grit or backbone often meant a fight waiting, and most people looking to cause trouble often shrank away from that. Discretion and disorientation worked best for their line of work, meaning many preferred easy targets. 

 

Lute would not make anything easy for such an asshole.

 

The figure behind her, much too close for her liking, did give pause. Ratty shoes slid back against the pavement, the cuffs of their jeans spilling over the top. The ruffled, ragged hoodie engulfed their entire body, swallowing them up in a threadbare appearance. The hood was pulled low over their face, so only bits of scraggly hair and a pensive frown showed. However, what caught her eye the most was the flash of silver at their side as they hastily tucked their hands behind their back. The barest hint of a knife, gleaming under flickering street lights before it was stowed away. 

Lute’s mouth twisted into a sneer, and she could feel the edge of a canine catching at her lower lip. Her tongue felt dry and her heart was steadily climbing into her throat. Still, she stepped forward. Refusing to back down to some spitter with a pocket knife. “Back off you little cretin, or you’ll be wearing your intestines through your ass and around your neck .”

To their credit, the threat did give them pause. She could see it in the jolt of their shoulders; she could hear it in the catch of their breath. However… her own bravado waned as they just… smiled at her. A twisted, sharp reveal of mismatch teeth that spoke more of assured confidence than actual hesitation. Like they knew something she didn’t… 

 

Lute realized her mistake too late. 

 

Her attention was pinned on them alone. Each one of her senses focused solely on the fucker slowly shifting towards the street, forcing her to turn to keep them in her sights. So, when a heavy weight suddenly crashed down onto her back, she could do little more than curse and stumble forward. The fucker had a friend!

An arm wrapped about her neck and squeezed, cutting off her breath completely. Instantly, panic seized hold of her brain and heart, and she had to force herself to think through the flurry of thoughts and emotions flooding through her. Legs scrambled to wrap around her waist, but she didn’t let the bastard keep that tight of a hold. Hissing out the last little bit of her breath, Lute jerks herself forward into a roll and slams the bitch onto the ground. 

There’s a low, broken wheeze from underneath her, and the grip around her neck falters. It’s just enough for Lute to break away and scramble to her feet. She made sure to elbow her attacker in the gut on the way up for good measure. 

She wasn’t given even half a moment to breathe before the first person was rushing her. A flash of silver arched through the air much too fast, and she could do little more than block. Her first instinct was to protect her face, and her efforts were rewarded, in a sinister sense. The blade sliced through the skin of her forearm instead of her eye, and she hissed at the sting of parted flesh and welling blood. 

 

This was going to be a long night. 

 

Anger flared in her gut and blossomed quickly in her chest. It clawed at her body, replacing her panic with the raw, unadulterated feeling of rage . How dare they attack her. How dare they stand around, waiting for some unsuspecting woman to walk by, knife in hand. How dare they smile at her with such cruel content and confidence. It made her blood boil; it made her ears ring. Hatred bubbled up and over, spilling into the battlecry tearing itself from her throat as she charged.  

“I’m going to rip those teeth and that tongue right out of your skull, you secondhand shop dildo !” Her first punch connected hard with their face, and Lute felt a twinge of satisfaction at the crunch of cartilage under her fist. However, her second punch missed, because they stumbled back and out of range. They were clutching at their face, wailing as dark red liquid began to seep through their fingertips. “I’m going to flame broil you ass to mouth and make your bitch boy buddy eat you alive ! Without salt. ” 

“Jesus fuck lady—-“ The man on the ground finally clambered to his feet, feelings of anger and horror warring on his face. Eventually, he managed to reign in control over his emotions and settled on a mask of cold indifference. With a grumble, he cracked his neck and knuckles in tandem as he trudged forward. “ I don't get paid enough for this shit …”

Lute shifted a foot backwards to steady her stance, and she lifted her arms in a boxer-ready stance to protect her face. She wasn’t going down to these little bitches without a fight. She’d make sure to give them both an asphalt facial before they go. 

His very first swing was a complete miss; she ducked down just under his fist, close enough to feel the rush of wind in her hair. She took the opportunity to punch him right in his ample gut, earning a wheezed curse. However, her sweet rush of victory was fleeting, for she suddenly felt grimy fingers curling in her hair and pulling. Forcing her body to jerk forward and down as he slammed a knee right into her face. Pain exploded across her senses like white hot stars, and she could feel her nerves tingling from the agony all the way to her fingertips. 

Her eyes began to water and blur as she ripped herself away from this man’s grip, leaving a few strands of white hair curled between his fingers. She stumbled back, nose dripping and lip burning. She shook her head, clearing the spots of light from her vision as her back hit a lamp. Unsteadily, she clung to it. A hand raised up to her face, absentmindedly checking the damage as she cleared her pounding head with a shake. Her nose was tender but not broken, but her lip was busted and bleeding. Well… it was hard to tell exactly what was bleeding. Her nose? Her lip? All she could tell was that her fingertips came back bloody. 

Lute growled softly, although it came out more as a low gurgle in her throat. She could taste the tinge of copper bubbling against her tongue. Acrid and disgusting, but not unfamiliar. She wiped her dripping nose with the back of her hand, smearing that sticky warmth more than anything. Spitting a glob of crimson onto the pavement, she staggered forward, fists raised and body swaying. “That all you got, pussy? Your girlfriend’s tits hit my face harder than that.”

He rushed her instantly , but his anger made him impulsive and impatient. His swing went wide, catching only air in its attack. Immediately, she swung her leg upwards and planted the tip of her steel toe boot into the underside of his groin. Which was, of course, a fancy way to say she kicked him in his microsized dick. The musical octave that escaped him was certain to ensure his entry into the local boys’ choir. 

Whimpering softly, he clutched at busted balls and fell heavily to his knees. Raising both fists above her head, Lute brought them down against the back of his skull with a sharp crack! He crumbled like wet tissue paper under her strike. However, he curled up on the asphalt and moaned out his pain like a little bitch, so she knew he wasn’t dead . 

She was about three seconds from changing that fact, when the cold point of a blade bit sharply into her flesh. The initial shock of the action made her body go rigid, and her brain could only process the sudden, mild discomfort in her lower back. That was, until the knife was ripped out of her, and she was kicked harshly in the exact same spot she was just stabbed. The strangled, desperate cry to escape her felt raw and uninviting in her throat, but it was more than warranted in the moment. For, her senses were suddenly in agony as white hot, hellish pain tore through her. It melted on her tongue and burned through her body like searing stardrops, burning bright and awful through the falling sky.

Her palms hit the rough rock of the asphalt as she went down, but the residual sting against sensitive skin did little to turn her mind from her current endeavor. Her breathing was coming out in ragged pants, making it hard to control or even out. She was fully aware of those footsteps growing closer, menacingly slow. Like the prick was taking their time and enjoying the sight of her on her knees. She had to get up.

 

She was dead if she didn’t get up.

 

Through gritting teeth and shaking limbs, Lute forced herself to stagger up to her own two feet. Her body screamed for her to stay still and unmoving. It begged with trembling muscles and dancing, black spots before her eyes. But, she crammed down her pain and panic with a rough hand and turned towards the fucker who stabbed her. They stood only a few feet away, watching warily. Their nose was crooked and broken, smashed in and swollen like a ripe papaya. The lower half of their face was splattered in a dark red that still dribbled down their front. The knife at their side dripped lazy streams of crimson to the ground, splattering the sidewalk with her blood.  

 

The sight was a little surreal to witness. Like something you read about happening but never experience.

 

Lute swayed on her feet, thoughts starting to become slow and sluggish. Her head was swimming; it felt like a helium balloon ready to pop off and float away. She was dully aware of the warmth trickling down her back and legs, soaking her jeans and the inside of her right boot. Everything ached. She hadn’t even taken that many hits , and yet here she was. Bleeding out all over herself and the street like a dumbass. 

 

She was starting to think she was going to miss that party. 

 

God, Adam was going to kill her if she showed up like this. Fuck, wait… Adam! She scrambled to claw her phone out of her jacket pocket, and a flash of alarm crossed papaya-nose’s face. She stumbled backwards, feet heavy and awkward under her as she repeatedly mashed at the power button. She’d just been trying to turn it on, but the stupid emergency contacts screen popped into view. The other person was charging now, swinging their knife aimlessly in her direction. Their first few strikes missed, but the wind from their wild swings grazed at her hands.

Frantically, she swiped a bloodied finger across her screen, trying to clear it. She needed to get to her contacts. She only succeeded in smearing the screen in a crimson haze and… confirming something??? She wasn’t sure of exactly what she just did, but it didn’t matter. Her phone was slapped roughly from her hands, and she heard it clatter and crack against the nearby wall. In an instant, they were driving the knife forward again. 

But, she just barely managed to catch a slippery hold of their wrist in time. The blade was stopped mere inches from her face, hovering just in front of her eye. Her attacker grunted in surprise, and the weapon began to shake in their hold as they slowly applied more pressure. Urging it to dip down towards her. Lute’s own arm began to tremble from the effort of keeping them at bay, and she dug her nails into the flesh of their wrist for a better grip. She was not dying to this carnival goblin’s shitty ass pocket knife . 

With a desperate cry, Lute kicked them in the gut. Pain shot up her back and tore at her wound, but the crumpling wheeze of the bastard in front of her was almost enough to make up for it. Their grip on the blade faltered as they doubled over, gasping for suddenly lost breath. It was just the distraction she needed; a short moment of stagnation to ensure her victory over these pissers. Taking in a deep breath, Lute grabbed them with both hands, and —-

 

She snapped their arm in half. 

 

Right at the elbow. The pull of tendons and crack of bones under her hands was more satisfying than she cared to admit. It was almost like cracking a bit of firewood in two, but she didn’t care to make that comparison. However, their screams of horror and torment to follow? She savored those. They and their partner just tried to mug her or kill her or…. something. She shuddered to think what might have happened if none of those were the answer as to what they were doing. She could fill in the blanks.

But, she takes a step back. Her body was starting to shake from the effort of just holding herself up. Those black spots were gathering in larger numbers now, having a public dance class in her vision. Her thoughts were starting to stammer, words becoming slurred and unfinished, even in private. 

Still, Lute couldn’t help the smug smile pulling at her lips. The blood beginning to dry against her cheek cracked and stretched unpleasantly at her skin, but she ignored it for now. “… Did you really think I was going to go down that easily, bitch?”

 

A sharp crack exploded across the back of her head, and the briefest of pains erupted across her temple and the base of her skull. The world tilted, and her vision grayed into dim nothingness as she crumbled into darkness.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

The first bit of sensation to trickle its way into Lute’s consciousness… was discomfort. 

Her head throbbed with the intensity of a migraine worthy of any hangover. Her body ached all over, but she could feel the inflamed sting of various scrapes and bruises. Her nose and lip felt tender and a little swollen. Her forearm and lower back felt as if someone were actively holding a branding iron to them. They burned.  

Her clothes felt stiff and sticky, and they clung to her skin dryly. Save for her right boot, which felt.. oddly wet and squishy. Kind of like her thoughts. Squishy. 

It felt like there was a layer of soggy cotton jammed between her ears, muddling her thoughts and comprehension. There was a scratchiness about her wrists and neck that bit awfully into the sensitive skin there, and her breathing felt heavy and uneven with much too hot air. Neither of which did little to help with the rolling nausea in her stomach. The acrid taste of copper and bile sat heavily on the back of her tongue… almost as heavily as her leadened limbs.

Groaning softly, Lute tiredly wondered just what she’d gotten up to at Adam’s party last night… And then, she began to wonder why and how she was currently moving. Because she could feel the floor sliding slowly under her knees, and she could feel the bounce of her own chin against her chest. But, her mind refused to piece together just how and why that was out of the ordinary. It was just one part of the puzzle she let fall back to the table.

It was frustrating how slowly her mind was gathering information. Everything felt like mud to work through, thick and unpleasant. 

 

She was in hell . 

 

Blinking open her eyes… Lute was met with only darkness. The groggy, hazy kind of darkness that held only stale air and thrice filtered light. Light that was, in turn, only present at the seams of her swaying vision. Had she fallen asleep with her head under her blanket last night? She was pretty sure that was bad, medically speaking.

However, when she went to pull said blanket from over her head, her arms refused to move properly. That scratchiness around her wrists seemed to tighten around and restrain her hands, keeping them pinned behind her. A fact she only just seemed to stumble upon. Part of her hoped that this was just an attempt at some new kink she’d fallen asleep in the middle of trying. Adam and she got a little brave after drinking some nights. Hell, one time Adam even let her peg him after they downed a couple bottles of tequila. International women’s day was wild .

 

But, Lute knew deep in her gut that something was terribly wrong. 

 

She couldn’t remember ever even going to the party. She couldn’t remember having a single thing to drink or sharing any of their favorite, shitty foods. She couldn’t even remember ever meeting back up with Adam after breakfast. The only thing she could remember was… 

 

Her breath caught. 

 

Flashes of memories played through her mind, quick and disorienting. A dark, deserted street. Two people, armed with a single knife between them both. A desperate, bloody fight. A knife in her back. Blood everywhere, soaking her hands and clothes. A fleeting victory rewarded with agony and darkness. 

Her body lurches forward on its own accord, that nausea settling into a full blown need to puke . A sudden, gut wrenching spike that made her shudder and very nearly sob. However, she was suddenly jerked back by rough hands, and she finally took note of just how she was moving. Someone had their filthy hands on her. Someone who was going to lose that hand the moment she could focus.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Lute had to force down the roiling, boiling pressure in her stomach and throat. She had no desire to be sick all over herself. She had to try and ignore it as best she could, but it was really hard to do that with whoever was shaking her like a fucking dick. She could hear voices, too; someone was yelling at her, fingers digging into her arm as she continued to slump forward. But… she couldn’t quite make sense of what they were saying. She was only making out every other word, for that’s all that seemed to catch in the mushy mesh of her thoughts. But, even those seemed to fall through her fingers into the nonsensical void. It didn’t matter; she’d kick their asses in a minute. 

 

She just… she just needed a second to focus what energy she had on not puking. 

 

Thankfully, the cursed shaking and shouting eventually stopped, and she was left alone to slowly die in peace. Well, not quite alone. She could still feel them ragdolling her ass across the floor to fuck knows where. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait on that question for long. 

A door creaked open slowly somewhere close by, and her knees bumped along what she could only assume to be the threshold of a doorway. Once upon the other side, the sudden, gentle chatter of voices died down into nothing, and the hum of soft, background music was paused with a click. Silence hung in the air as she slid to a stop, and her world of darkness was ripped away in a single, painful motion.

Immediately, an onslaught of stimuli wreaked havoc upon her senses, causing her to shrink back and her head to swim. The light was dim, almost like some kind of Jazz lounge, but it was still enough for her migraine to sink its claws into her eyes and skull that little bit tighter. God, it made her want to rip out her own brain at just the chance of relief. Smoke hung in the air, lazy and stagnant, shining crimson against the rays of illumination above. And, through the hazy, red cloud… a figure slowly emerged. 

A man languidly picked himself off an intricate couch, untangling himself from no less than three other people. Each were in various states of undress, and his own shirt was hanging open but still partially tucked into unbuttoned pants. A pair of pink, heart shaped glasses glared at her through the darkness, and a big, much too fluffy coat fluttered behind him, making it almost look as if he had wings. At that thought, Lute couldn’t help but imagine this man as some sort of giant, moth creature. The very idea was absurd, but it made her lips twitch. 

“So… this is the chiquita who fought off Brutus and Fran?” His much too polished shoes came to a stop right in front of her, and her face was roughly grabbed and raised up towards his own. His features swam into an undefentitive blob, but those crimson eyes bore into her own like some hideous interpretation of a sleep paralysis demon. “ This tiny thing took out two of my men in under five minutes?”

An incredulous noise escaped him, and a bit of bitter smelling smoke curled from his lips as he sneered down at her. Studying her closely… squinting as if he couldn’t quite see. “… You know, if they didn’t fuck you up so bad, you’d be pretty. Lots of freaks like those dangerous lookin’ whores. Somethin’ about a bitch who’ll bite your dick off without a second thought. Maybe we can clean you up and put you to work.”

He let her face go and straightened back up, but his gaze never left her. The edge of a cigarette holder pressed past his lips, and she watched as he inhaled that foul smoke thoughtfully. Fingers tapping idly against his mouth… before he finally settled on a single question to ask her. “… How many dicks can you suck?”

 

Lute smiled up at him… before lurching forward and throwing up all over his shiny shoes . 

 

She immediately felt better. Emotionally and physically. Not completely, of course… but? It was a start.

“ ¡Aye! Jesus fuck! What kind of plague ridden bitches are you bringing me? She just threw up on my shoes !” Mr. Mothman shrieked as he scrambled back and onto his ass. He shook off his ruined footwear in an instant, Spanish obscenities dripping from his lips. 

A now genuine , somewhat smug smile tugged at the corners of Lute’s mouth as she looked back up at him, a bit of hair falling into her face. “… Wanna see me do it again?”

“You little shit! I’ll wipe that stupid expression off your face!” He hissed, scrambling to his feet and brushing himself off. “Do you really think you can mock me from where you sit? Do you think you can make a fool out of me?” 

“I mean,” Lute drawled, head dropping to one side languidly. Almost as if she were cocking it curiously. Truth was, it was starting to get heavy, and looking up at him was starting to strain her neck. “… you’ve kinda got that covered, already.”

 

His eye twitches. 

 

With a snap of his fingers, an impish woman practically materialized next to him. The little bells of her colorful hat jingled as she tilted her head silently, hands tucking behind her back. “Kitty, bring me the sexiest gun you can find. And a drink. I’m going to paint the wall with this bitch’s brains.”

 

Shit.

 

The hands from before grabbed a rough hold of her and dragged her into an upright, kneeling position. Panic shocked her system with a rush of adrenaline, and a shaky breath escaped her. However, her anxiety is quickly smothered by the seething, boiling rage suddenly clawing at her throat and chest. The world sharpened around her, details becoming a touch less fuzzy around the edges. Everything still ached like a mother fucker, but she wasn’t just going to sit here and die like a bitch on a leash. Not when she had two legs that… probably worked just fine. She had at least a three out of ten chance of standing without falling.

 

She’d rather go out fighting, anyways.

 

Gritting her teeth, Lute suddenly threw herself backwards and tore herself out of the hands of the men. They shouted in surprise, scrambling to regain their hold on her again. Her back slammed against the floor, and her wrists remained painfully pinned to her back. But, she could work with this little bit of freedom just fine. Adam didn’t call her danger tits for nothing. 

Using her shoulders to gain some leverage, she kicked out at the closest man’s knees with a bit more force than necessary. The audible pop and crunch to follow punched her nausea full force in the gut, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from being sick a second time. The man crumbled into the path of his buddy with a scream, causing his friend to trio and go down hard in front of Lute. With a triumphant grin, she slammed the heel of her boot down onto the back of his head. 

Either that would do some real damage, or he’d have one hell of a headache. Whatever the case, she was satisfied with that domino effect.

With a grunt, Lute twisted her body and rolled unsteadily to her feet. Her gaze immediately snapped to the quickly retreating Mothman, and she watched as he scrambled back onto the couch with a panicked yelp. His previous lovers practically fell over themselves to get out of his way, and he started hurling pillow after fluffy pillow at her. They would have been easy enough to avoid, if gravity wasn’t suddenly working against her. Her entire world shifted sideways in a rapid, dizzying effect, and she found herself stumbling her first few steps forward. 

 

She really should have gotten up slower.

 

Because, two strides in, and she eats shit. A lucky shot from a stray pillow smacked her straight in the face, and she went crashing into the nearest lamp much easier than she really should have. Vertigo, you fucking bitch . With a yelp, she tumbled down to the ground, tangled in some long ass wire. Hissing out a few insults under her breath, Lute kicked at the base of the lamp to try and get it off… only to end up with a much too pink lampshade shoved haphazardly on her head. 

 

Don’t ask her how, but she was certain whatever god or gods were watching were laughing their pathetic asses off right now. 

 

By the time she managed to shake the damned, frilly thing off her, a fresh pair of hands were reaching for her through the crimson haze of the room. Their image flickered and blurred at the edges as her mind began to swim again. Nevertheless, Lute surged forward and bit down . She half expected to miss completely, so she was (un)pleasantly surprised when flesh gave way beneath her teeth. 

The taste of grime and gunpowder pressed against her tongue in a disgusting display, but the metallic, salty flush of blood followed in rapid succession. It practically poured down her throat and chin, but she only bit down harder when they instinctively jerked away. Sinew snapped from bone beneath her teeth as she dug in, and with a final snap! , flesh ripped from its host in gruesome, gorey detail. The splatter of crimson against her face and front was followed by a horrified scream, and the person scrambled back away from her, tripping over the bouncing, pink lampshade that had rolled behind them. 

 

Okay, so maybe the gods were on her side. Or, at the very least, they were laughing at more than just her right now.

 

With a snarl, Lute spat the glob of twitching flesh to the floor, and she watched as a… a pinky finger bounced and slid across the hardwood surface. A roiling, boiling spike of nausea punched her in the gut at the very thought of this STD-ridden, probably-didn’t-wash-their-hands-after-using-the-bathroom fucker’s fingers anywhere near or in her mouth, but she swallowed down the feeling rather painfully. With a bloodied sneer, she slowly shifted a knee underneath herself in an attempt to brace against the inevitability of trying to stand again. Her head was pounding atop her shoulders, and each piercing throb made her vision spot and her body ache with little starbursts of pain. Still, she somehow managed to find it in herself to grin (or perhaps grimace) at the overly dressed pimp pressed into the pillows of his couch. She couldn’t see his face or very much on his at all, but she could hear the little whimper caught in the back of his throat and she could feel his gaze on her. So, she had his attention…? Wonderful. “I’m going to shove my boot so far down your throat I’ll be wearing your dick as a sock puppet. ”

“Qué carajo—-“ The glint of his glasses shined through the dark, trembling in place almost as much as he. His voice shook in his nervousness, small and oh so soft. But the weight of his panic and incredulousness made his words hang heavily in the smoky air. 

 

She didn’t make it more than two steps towards him. 

 

Oh, she planned to make good on her threat. She wanted to shove the entirety of her boot where the sun didn’t dare to shine. But, it’s kind of hard to do that when only God knows how many people are suddenly tackling you. The only warning she received was the sudden rush of footsteps before she was thrown hard into the ground. A burst of stars practically assaulted her vision as her face slammed onto the floor, and the combined weight of the people piled atop her crushed the breath from her lungs. 

An ugly, raspy wheeze escaped her in that instant, and her lungs immediately began to scream for oxygen in their panicked, deprived state. Hands practically swarmed her the seconds to follow, holding her down by whatever they could grab hold of. Hair, clothes, skin, limbs… nothing was safe from their searching grasp. Of course, she struggled to get away; she wriggled and writhed about, kicking where she could. When she could. She hissed insults and barbed threats, biting at the fingers and hands that dared to reach for her face. However, they had her pinned in a matter of seconds, and she could do little more than endure the sting of loss to her pride.

Slowly, the man in charge eased himself off the couch, gaze locked onto a point above her. He cleared his throat and fixed his clothes as the startings of a blush prickled at his cheeks. Likely the burn of embarrassment; a heavy thing for a man with his ego. After a long moment, he finally held out his hand in a silent command. The jester from before practically materialized from the hazy, crimson fog, and a sizable handgun was placed gently into his waiting palm.

That same, piercing fear from earlier took root once again, but she grit her teeth and glared at the prick. Staring death down and very much wanting to spit in his face. “Well? What are you waiting for? Fucking do it already. ”

 

Red eyes finally fell back to her, and he tilted his head in his dumbass contemplation.

 

“… Curious. You would rather die than plead for mercy. It’d be admirable… if you didn’t look so pathetic right now.” The barrel of the gun finally shifted towards her as he took aim, and she could feel the group of people leaning away. As if trying to be sure they were well out of the range of his bullet. Considering the way he was squinting in their direction, she supposed that the fear was a healthy one to have. He looked like he couldn’t see shit past his arm. 

 

The hammer of the gun clicked back. 

 

Flickering memories flitted through her mind, rapid and gut wrenching. 

 

Adam smiles at her from across the couch. It’s that lopsided, dumbass look he got before saying something equally as stupid. His lips move, but she couldn’t remember the words that befell them. Only that smile. 

 

Another instance. 

 

He sat across from her at that same little cafe. They were sitting at their favorite table just outside, and the rolling clouds above were a stark, white contrast against the bright blue sky. Adam had ordered a root beer float with two straws… and she’d honestly thought he was looking to share. Only, now he was seeing how fast he could down the drink with both of them, and… God help her, she was cheering him on.

 

Another moment.

 

It was just the two of them, as usual. He sat cross-legged on the floor, guitar in hand. A rare, pensive look tugged at his expression as he ran through a few chords in a couple different ways. He was writing a new song for the band, but all she could really remember about that night was how focused he’d been on that task. And how admirable it was. She remembered wanting to kiss the furrow of his brow… the scrunch of his nose… but that lovey dovey shit was for pussies. 

 

Only now… She kind of wished she had.  

 

She exhaled slowly, watching as his finger began to squeeze at the trigger. A sense of loss and regret gripped her in a strangely sentimental way, and she couldn’t help but wish for just one more moment with the doofus that so often occupied her time. Who filled her life with laughter and purpose. Who stood by her through thick and thin. 

 

In her final moments, she wanted her best friend.

 

…………………. Only…

 

Her supposed, overhanging death never came. Some lanky twink with pink hair and a collar about his neck slipped off the couch and over to the overdressed man. Cautious, overly gently fingertips pressed against the underside of the taller fellow’s elbow, and the smaller man offered an oh so sweet smile up towards him. A single, golden tooth glimmered in the low light  “ Val, daddy… Weren’t you just saying how pretty she is?” 

 

Mr. Mothman’s face twisted into a grimace at the reminder.

 

“I said she would be pretty, Angel. That is, if they didn’t fuck her face up so much.” Val scoffed, his heart shaped glasses sliding down his nose. Likely from the accumulated stress-sweat she managed to cause. Good. She hoped underwear was soaked then. And not in a good way.

“Well then… clean her up. Fix her face and put her to work.” Angel cooed, his fingers trailing up to the other man's chest. Playing with the open edge of his shirt as his voice edged on silky smooth. “… Or you could… you know… recondition her. Turn her into an attack dog of sorts. You've got plenty on hand, I know… But… she just took out, like, three of your men with her hands tied behind her back and a concussion. Imagine her at her best and at your beck and call…”

 

The barrel of the gun began to dip…

 

“She’d be the perfect goon. All you gotta do is… convince her. And there’s no one you can’t convince, baby. ” Angel’s soft, encouraging tone was edged with the barest hint of… something else. Something Lute couldn’t quite place, but she could feel the answer pressing against the tip of her tongue… However, she instantly knew the word she was looking for when he turned mismatched eyes unto her. She could see the gleam of barely contained desperation in their depths. This was a man throwing his few remaining chips into the pot for a risky gamble. He wanted her for something. Needed her for whatever payout lay behind his cards.

 

And he needed her alive to be sure it happened.

 

Val sighed dramatically after a few, tense moments, and he dropped the weapon down to his side. He reached up to pat Angel gently on the cheek, mouth curling into a sickeningly sweet smile. One that his little boy toy returned rather tentatively. “Alright… you convinced me. You’re lucky daddy finds you so cute, Angel . Maybe she can be useful for something. Besides, I could use a bitch who bites…”

Oh she’d bite the fuck outa him. After all, she was certain a Van Gogh look was in. Super hot. All the rage. And she thought he’d look fantastic with that particular makeover. 

“Go ahead and clean her up. And, ah… start reconditioning her, won’t you?” He made a vague, waving motion towards the door, and Lute was practically thrown to her feet with how fast they moved her. The multitude of hands stayed practically glued onto her, though. Fucking killjoys.

Still, this did little to quell the simmering, seething glare she settled on hearts (aka, Val). She sneered in his direction as she was dragged out the door, promises of death lingering on the tip of her tongue… 

 

Only… 

 

An edge of confusion pulls her momentarily away from the boiling anger in her gut. Because… someone was walking into the room with her bass. 

 

Her fucking bass.  

 

The fuckers snatches that up when dragging her ass here, and now she was going to have to worry about some cock-sucker’s cum-soaked fingers gunking up her instrument? Her pride and joy?  

 

Oh fuck no.

 

With a guttural yell, she started to writhe in her captors’ grips. She managed to slam a boot into the chest of one of the asshats, but her legs were quickly grabbed and held fast as she was dragged off and away. “I’LL KILL YOU, YOU PRICK! MESS UP A SINGLE STRING ON THAT BITCH AND I’LL CARVE OUT YOUR EYES AND USE THEM AS BOBA, YOU JACKASS! YOU’LL BE WEARING YOUR OWN INTESTINES AS A BOWTIE WHEN I’M THROUGH WITH YOU! I’LL MAKE YOU EAT THE NEAREST WINDOW WITHOUT MILK. YOU’LL BE PICKING GLASS OUT OF YOUR TEETH FOR WEEKS! WEEKS!”

 

The door was slammed shut seconds later, cutting off her view of the frazzled man… 

 

But she planned to make good on her threat. No matter what it took. She’d make sure that bitch would be shitting glass when she was through with him.

Notes:

Sorry it’s been a minute. My life has been hella busy. I moved, got injured, got a new job. Ect.

Hope you enjoyed though!

Notes:

Hello again!

I’m not very good at fighting scenes, but I hope this one was more than okay!

If you liked the first chapter, let me know! Comments honestly encourage me the most.

I hope you enjoyed !