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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2131 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Title: KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr Naked
Rating: NC17/AU
Pairing: everyone and then some more
Disclaimer: I was smoking some really good stuff when I came up with this.
Betas: Ketene & Hannelore_K

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Part II. The Mark Has Been Made
Chapter 20.

I feel all my being starting to melt, bit by bit, turning into cold water as I slide along the wall, collapsing.

The page! This feeble thought whimpers in my mind. The page, please!

But his hands grab my wrists again, picking me up, forcing me to stand. He shoves me again against the wall; my back hurts at the impact. His husky, demented laughter echoing like waves of an angry sea tormented by storm brings me back. He gets his face close to mine; he grins – big teeth sparkling white, dark, yet void glance bites my gaze.

“I am you,” I whisper, crushed by the realization.

“I’m in you,” he howls, laughing again, triumphant, and the flame of the torch quivers and twitches as if lashed by his powerful voice.

His full lips tense suddenly, breaking the grin, his face becoming a mask of demented fury.

“I’ll be in you!” His voice thunders. His hands force me around, with my face against the wall. “I’m in you more so when you put me in the ground,” he says, almost chanting, behind me, as he’s making me put my hands above my head. With his palm he can pin my wrists to the wall and keep them there.

“Fuck off!” I shout, trying to snatch my hands off his grip, but this blow in my kidneys paralyzes me for a second, leaving me breathless and soundless. I can hear his laughter like through water, but I barely notice his foot kicking my ankles forcing me to spread my legs. Another blow between my shoulder blades sends me with my chest against the coldness of the wall.

“Fuck you!” I groan and attempt to hit his face with a sudden movement of my head, but it is as if he knew what I was going to do and he backs up a bit just in that instant. He laughs; all my struggling and wriggling are in vain but seem to amuse the hell out of him.

I should turn the page! Or faint! Another kick in the kidneys paralyzes me, and he seizes the opportunity to pull down my pants.

Oh, no! Fuck! Turn the page! Now! The page!

“No, you fuck! Fuck, no!”

“There’s no page!” The man laughs behind me and shoves my body into the wall. “No pages here, no! There’s only me and …”

I feel him, the texture of his clothes brushing against my bare torso.

“… and me!”

He howls, mad, as this thick, sturdy thing is rammed painfully inside me, with only one single movement.

Do I yell? I can’t hear my own shout because of all this pain, all my fibers screaming, deafening me with all this pain I feel.

This thought of banging my head against the wall so I’d faint, just crosses my mind. I squeeze my eyelids; I hold my breath; I know it’s gonna hurt, but – bam!

The impact of my forehead against the wall leaves me disoriented for a split of a second. Fuck, I’m still here! And he’s still behind me, in me! I struggle again, but again it is in vain. I try to hit his face with the back of my head, but he avoids it. It is as if he knows what I’m thinking of.

But what will he do about this? I close my eyes again, get ready; snatch my neck from the grip of his palm and – bam! I almost smash my forehead against the wall, but still nothing! How come others can knock me out so easily…?

Bam! Again! Fuck! I’m dizzy; I almost lose contact with this world. Bam! I don’t even feel the impact, only this sharp pain between my legs, as if something is tearing off my insides.

No, I won’t allow this! Bam, again, my head, the wall! I’m still in this world! Fuck it! I’m hazed, almost collapsing in his arms. I try to fight him again, he hits me too, but I’m still conscious. His insane laughter behind me thundering through the darkness as he’s fucking me; I’m still here. The wall! The impact! The pain I should feel in my forehead. Only that split second of darkness, and here I am back again.

And I’m free again, free to fall, to slide again along the wall. I lean my back against its protective coolness. He isn’t laughing anymore. He just stands in front of me, but I don’t look at him, I only watch the dancing light that the torch casts on the floor made of stone. I don’t want too see my own face staring at me! I make an effort and start rising on my feet with clumsy movements. My whole body is sore, a rag kicked into dust by everyone’s foot.

“You can’t be me,” I pronounce with an almost voiceless tone.

“No, I’m not,” his deep voice, echoes through the hollowness of this place. This stupid thought tells me that it looks like the dungeons of a castle, but I chase it away; I have more important things to focus upon. “I’m only a part of you,” he adds when my face is finally at the level of his face.

“The dark part?” I find the strength to smirk, mocking him, as I’m staring straight into the void of his irises.

“Not even that!” He defies me.

I grin, angry, spiteful, as I am zipping up my pants.

“Nothing is as simple as you think,” he replies on a patronizing tone, but he wears the same angry and spiteful grin.

“Then?” I confront him.

I’m quivering, freezing, almost naked in this dark corridor; I feel hurt, abused; yet I fight with my own sore flesh forcing myself to stand.

“I’m that part…” He starts, but he stops suddenly as if he’s heard something.

He brings his face closer to mine, he’s looking straight at me like he could see through my flesh, deep inside me, as if he is scanning my soul with his glance.

I attempt to take a step backward, but my back hits the cold stone of the wall behind me so I remain still.

“When you do something,” he starts again, but whispering, his lips moving closely to mine, as he is poking my chest with his index finger, in the rhythm of how he pronounces the words. “And then you say something like ‘It couldn’t be me, I don’t do these kind of things’. That’s who I am.”

For a split of a second I’m stunned but then I recompose my defying attitude. I growl between clenched teeth: “I’ll break your fucking finger if you…”

But the cascades of his laughter cut off my words.

“So, you’re the dark part!” I state, figuring that this will irritate him.

He shakes his head slowly.

“Dark side, good side, they are all there,” he says poking again his finger into my bare chest. “Even the dark side has a bright side.”

“Ah, spare me of this pseudo-philosophical mumbo-jumbo!” I snap at him.

He grins again, his teeth glowing white, but the black in his eyes looks like threatening to contaminate the whole world with their deadness and to consume the Universe.

“You must be the devil,” I mumble and force myself to look straight into those dark pits – his pupils.

He sneers and shakes his head again, in denial.

“Devil and God, they are all in there, too,” he answers, pointing to my chest again.

“What the fuck do you want?” I growl, annoyed.

“What the fuck do you want?” He asks me back on a playful tone, and he leans his head to the side as if trying to understand what’s with this creature standing in front of him.

He waits for my answer for a few seconds. Then he sighs out loud and throws a fleeting look around him as if we weren’t surrounded by anything except deep darkness. His face wears an expression of the deepest exasperation like I am the dumbest fuck ever, stubborn and refusing to understand such simple facts.

“You are always wasting my time,” he says and he sounds like he’s lecturing a child. “You always fight me, and you always deny me.”

“Don’t you do the same to me?” I ask frowning.

“You always keep me prisoner…”

“And don’t you do the same to me?”

“This is going nowhere!”

“Where would you want it to go?”

I shrug and I feel suddenly overwhelmed by everything: this pointless talk, the cold, the darkness, and the pain. I don’t know. I never know.

I look again at his face. My face. He doesn’t know either. Never. He doesn’t have any answers. It’s like all the answers are outside these walls.

“Do we always have to fight?” I ask him, whispering.

He remains silent, his face becoming stern, inexpressive.

“This must be that personal hell they were talking about,” I muse out loud lowering my gaze.

“It can be anything you make of it. It always is,” I hear his husky voice.

Suddenly the cold bites into my flesh fiercely, reminding me I’m shirtless and bare foot, reminding me that I was abused and now I hurt.

I lift my gaze, again. In front of my eyes – only the black veil of darkness pierced by the feeble flame of the torch. Where did he go?

I look to my left, nothing. I look to my right, nothing again. He vanished!

But I don’t call him, no, not after all this. Actually, I should get away from this place.

I grab the torch and start walking. I move the torch and light around me, to see more of this place. I have this thought about how difficult it was to get this damn torch, and what I went through, but I just tell it to go away. I look at the lines of the stones the walls and the floor are made of. There’s nothing else; just mute, vertical, cold and endless walls.

I start walking again, annoyed, tired. After a while I realize that there seems to be no door to break the monotony of these walls. And this hallway seems just as endless, darkness in front of me, darkness behind me, only this circle around me from the light of the torch.

I shiver; I’m aching all over, I feel as if my feet won’t carry me anymore. Soon my knees will break. I’m thinking of the encounter, and it feels like someone scratching with his nail on the inner wall of my skull. And he keeps whispering, but, since he is whispering, I can’t make out what he is saying there.

I force myself to quicken the pace, but it is as if my feet are growing bigger and heavier, and hurting even more. Keep on; keep on.

Where is this fucking corridor leading to? Maybe it’s not a door on the wall, but one on the floor. Oh, shit! And the whispers continue and the scratch: keep on; keep on.

No, no, I would have felt it, under my foot, if it were a door on the floor. It would have been of a different texture than the stone. Glacial stone, feeling rougher under my feet with each step I’m taking. And the scratches inside my skull.

There should be a breech in these walls! But what if this hallway is just a big circle, and I’m doomed to pace around it for eternity?

My legs hurt; I can swear my feet are bleeding. This whispering and this scratching are irritating. I don’t even know where I am; I only have this tiny light to guide me. And my hand holding it is starting to feel sore. I am only walking endlessly through the darkness. And I seem to be doing it always.

I stop. I need to rest. My legs ache so bad I can’t even bend them, so I could sit on the floor. I close my eyes and listen to the whispers inside my mind. They are telling me something. I must have lost it completely; I’m hearing voices. A voice inviting me away.

The way out is through, he is telling me.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 19
- 20
- 21
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)