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Captivation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 6307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Bill or Tom Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel and this story is a complete work of fiction; it is all made up and not true. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
A/N: I am alive!!! Forgive me for my absence but I have a very demanding 5 month old baby on my hands. She wants to be held like, all day and she cries when I put her down or try to do anything else. I know she just wants to be with her momma and she loves me but I literally have had NO time to write whatsoever, and I am deeply sorry to you guys for that. I know you’ve been waiting for updates and I have finally managed to get one done (quickly typing away while she’s fast asleep around midnight). I should be getting some sleep but I didn’t want to leave you wonderful people hanging or make you think I abandoned this story so here you go! Hope this chapter sustains you enough until I can put together the next one.

Chapter 25. Battle Scars
The pain finally awakens me. I groan thickly and crack open my crusty eyes. My head is pounding. My jaw hurts and my bones are aching, especially my ribs, where Tom mercilessly kicked me. Wincing, I attempt to sit up in bed, feeling as though I’m zombie road-kill, like a dead badger trying to peel its tyre-tracked carcass off the asphalt. I need water; my tongue is like sandpaper in my mouth.
When I check the clock in my room, I discover that I’ve spent around eighteen hours just sleeping. The drugs have worn off and now I need more. Fumbling next to me, I find the bottle of painkilling tablets, forcing a few of them into my dry throat and gulping them down with a litre of bottled water. Pulling a few tissues out of a nearby box, I gingerly blow my broken nose to get the blood clots out, hoping it doesn’t start bleeding again. It does, a little. There’s blood on my pillow so it must have been leaking while I was asleep too. The bridge of my nose feels sore, bumpy and swollen, along with the rest of my face. I don’t even dare to look in a mirror.
Lying back down, I prepare for an arduous recovery in bed, too foggy-headed and sore to do much of anything except doze on and off, sporadically staggering into the bathroom to take a piss. When I’m awake, I make sure Bill and Tom haven’t started World War III in their room, checking on my feisty captives through a small wireless monitor beside me. They seem fine. Snappy with each other, but fine. I don’t have the energy to go see them personally or bring them meals. They don’t really need it anyway as they have plenty of snacks left down there in the games room to sustain them. Besides, it might do them some good to spend more time with each other, without me around. I bet they’ll barely even notice I’ve gone.
But they do. When I don’t visit them for a while, the boys start to worry. They don’t seem to discuss it at first but I sense them gradually getting more and more anxious. Bill tries to call me a few times but I decline to answer, letting the green light on the telephone flash until it stops ringing. I’m not up to talking to him yet. I wonder how he’ll deal with my rejection, whether he’ll be hurt and disappointed, whether he’ll talk to Tom about it and seek comfort from his big brother or if Bill will just get angry that I’m ignoring him. After the twentieth unanswered phone call, he finally chooses to broach the subject with Tom, both of them sitting on the couch, the younger teen’s forehead crinkled in concern.
“Do you think Koji is all right? He hasn’t come to see us for days and he won’t even pick up the phone. I’ve been trying for hours.”
A guilty expression flickers over Tom’s face and then he forces it away, the older twin listlessly channel surfing with the remote controller. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he lies.
“But why hasn’t he visited? Or told us to go to the conference room? Or even bought us food? Did we do something wrong?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Did we piss him off in some way? Is he punishing us for something we did?” The smaller boy stops to think. “Or DIDN’T do?”
“Of course not!” Tom is impatient and irritated; they’ve run out of cigarettes – another reason Bill has been trying to call. “He’s probably just messing with us.”
“It doesn’t seem like him. Koji’s never left us alone for this long. What if he’s sick or injured?” Bill immediately thinks of the worst case scenario. “What if something happened to his heart and he collapsed like his brother?”
“You’re being dramatic. Nothing’s wrong with his heart,” Tom snaps dismissively, but he’s beginning to look a touch uneasy now. “It’s probably just a test he’s doing, you know, to see how we’ll react to being left on our own. I reckon he’s just screwing with us.”
“But what if he’s not? What if something really happened?” Bill frets, one arm wrapped around his own waist and the other going up to his mouth, nibbling nervously on a thumbnail. “What if he’s lying on the floor out there and he can’t get up? Who’s going to help him?”
“Why are you so worried about him? Who’s going to help US?” Tom explodes, turning to face his brother. “Nobody else knows we’re down here and without the right password we won’t be able to get out! Ever!”
That was the wrong thing to say. Alarmed dread fills Bill’s face and he starts to freak out, majorly.
“Oh God…If Koji doesn’t come back we’ll be stuck in this room and end up starving to death! I don’t want to die down here, Tom,” the younger twin insists frantically, grabbing Tom by the front of the shirt, his eyes big and panicky. “Where is he? He said he’d let us go. He can’t just leave us here. He can’t!”
“Look, I bet he’s right outside,” Tom hastily suggests in an attempt to calm his stressing brother. “I bet he’s listening to us and having a good old laugh. I’ll prove it.” He crosses over to the steel door, banging his fist onto it a few times.
“Yo, Cujo? Are you out there?” He waits a bit, ear pressed to the door. “I know you’re there, man. Say something.”
He bangs again and waits longer, frowning.
“Dude, this isn’t funny anymore. Open the door.” He bangs harder, starting to appear more than a little freaked-out himself. “Open the Goddamn door, you bastard! Stop fucking with us! Open it! OPEN IT!”
He’s yelling now and Bill senses and responds to Tom’s sudden claustrophobic terror, the thinner boy beginning to shake uncontrollably and back away on unsteady legs. Unable to cope with his paralysing panic, Bill gives a frightened whining noise and curls up beside the bed, sitting on the floor and hugging his trembling knees, starting to hyperventilate with short, rapid pants.
“I can’t breathe, Tomi,” he gasps, turning paler and paler as he struggles to take in enough air. “I can’t – I can’t breathe!”
I decide that’s enough. Bill is really scared now and so is Tom. I didn’t expect them to react like this to my absence and I hurriedly get up from my mattress and pull on a shirt and pants, feeling the world spin slowly around me, a side-effect of the painkillers I’ve been taking. I leave the room, going to let my petrified captives know that I’m all right and that I haven’t died of a heart attack or abandoned them. I must admit it feels strangely touching to be needed and depended on so much.
Standing in the dim corridor outside the twins’ room, I enter my personal identification number (after pausing for a moment to try and remember what it is) and crack the door open, catching Tom with his fist in the air, mid-bang. He freezes, staring at me for a few stunned seconds before lowering his arm and stumbling backwards in confusion. Bill lifts his head off his knees, his eyes glassy and complexion clammy and grey.
“For God’s sakes, guys. What’s with the hysterics?” I drawl scoldingly, my voice husky from disuse. “I thought you’d be HAPPY not to see me for a few days.”
The looks of relief on their pretty faces are overwhelming, Bill finally able to suck in a deep shaking breath before letting it out in a thankful rush.
“You’re okay!”
“Of course I’m okay. I’m here, aren’t I?” I say reassuringly from the doorway, keeping in the shadows to shield the extent of my injuries.
Tom seems especially relieved to hear my voice, his broad shoulders sagging as the tension drains out of them. He must have thought he killed me, that I’d collapsed of heart failure or brain damage in my bed after the beating and violent sex. But I’m fine. A little worse for wear on the outside after that ordeal but generally fine otherwise. I remain in the darkened entrance, my long hair free of its usual ponytail and hanging like a golden-brown veil about my head. I don’t want Bill to see how battered I am. That’s mainly why I was staying away – so I didn’t scare or upset him. Completely unaware of this, the younger boy scrambles to his feet and comes running up to greet me with sheer joy but as Bill gets closer, he spots my bruised face and stops in his tracks, his happy expression changing into one of horror.
I sigh and swing the door wider, stepping into the room and tucking my hair back behind my ears. I may as well let him look at me openly. He’d notice sooner or later anyway.
Bill gasps as the light shines fully on my swollen features - my blackened eyes, scabbed lip and blood-encrusted cheekbone. My split eyebrow has a piece of tape holding it together and my nose is all lumpy. I look like I got hit by a freight train.
“Oh my God, Koji…” Dismayed, Bill covers his mouth. “What on Earth happened to you?”
“Ask your brother.”
“Tom?” Bill turns to him with perplexity. “What’s he mean?”
The other boy has frozen at being put on the spot like this. He doesn’t know whether to tell Bill the truth or not, or whether I will be angry at him for doing so.
“It’s okay, Tom. You can tell him,” I encourage the older teen. “I think he needs to know what happened and why I look like this.”
“Erm. Well…” Tom begins uncomfortably, rubbing his shoulder. “I…uh…”
It doesn’t take Bill long to figure it out, staring first at me, then at his twin in disbelief and shock. “YOU did that to Koji? The punching bag you were talking about the other day was actually HIM?”
“Yeah. So?” Tom replies defensively. “He was asking for it!”
The young singer stares at his brother as if he doesn’t even recognise him. In a tight, disapproving tone, he finally mutters, “I can’t believe you’d do something like this, Tom. How could you?”
Bill seems to have forgotten all about the plan to tie me up and torture me. He seemed okay with that idea in the early stage of their captivity but somewhere along the line, something changed.
“It’s all right, Bill. Don’t be mad at him. It’s true - I was asking for it,” I confirm, backing up Tom’s story. “I pushed him into it.”
Sounding bewildered, Bill says to me, “Wait - you LET him do this to you? On purpose?”
I nod affirmatively. “I wanted him to take all his rage out on me, so that we could start over. So that we could start trying to be friends. I haven’t been here because I didn’t want you to see me this way. I know I’m not as…dashingly handsome…as usual.”
My dry attempt at a joke doesn’t raise any smiles. I can tell that my appearance is upsetting to Bill, his sweet, sympathetic character greatly affected by the sight of my damaged face. Tom also seems incredibly uneasy, but I know it’s largely because he doesn’t want Bill to find out that we fucked. As the older boy is looking at me, I can see the silent begging in his eyes, pleading with me not to tell Bill what we did, or rather, what he did to me. But he needn’t worry. I won’t betray Tom. I won’t spill our secret without his consent. That’s something he has to inform Bill on his own, when he’s ready.
“But you’re okay?” Bill questions uncertainly.
“Perfectly.” Changing the topic, I remark, “You guys must be famished. I’ll get you some food. What about noodles? You feel like noodles?”
He glances at Tom. “Um, all right,” the brunette hesitantly answers on behalf of himself and his twin, since Tom doesn’t appear capable of speaking right now, the normally mouthy guitarist becoming strangely silent since I entered the room.
“Actually,” Bill adds with a hand on his flat stomach, as if only just realising his hunger, “noodles would be great.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been taking better care of you.” My voice is apologetic. “I feel like such a lousy host.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” Bill says generously. “Besides, we had candy and popcorn. It’s not like you’d leave us to starve down here.”
After saying that, he timidly looks to me, seeking reassurance. “Would you?”
“No, of course not.” Frowning, I state, “You guys mean a lot to me, more than you realise. I don’t want you to think of me as your jailer or torturer but rather as your guardian and your guide. I only want to help you and that’s why I brought you here. No matter what you say or do to me, I would never abandon you as punishment or leave you to die alone in this place. I swear on my brother’s name I wouldn’t do that.”
My serious declaration puts Bill’s worries to rest. Well, some of them.
“But what if something happens to you, Koji? What if you get sick or have an accident outside and you can’t get back here to let us out? Won’t we be stuck down here forever?”
“I’ve already thought of that, Bill, and that’s why I have a failsafe release mechanism in place. If I don’t use the password or open these doors for more than seven days, they will automatically unlock. You could just walk up the stairs straight out of here. I’d have to be dead or in a coma for that to happen, though.” I spare a droll glance at Tom. “Don’t get any ideas, tough guy. You can’t kill me that easily.”
“So, the doors would unlock?” The slimmer teen lifts his groomed brows hopefully. “All of them?”
“Yes. If anything unexpected happened to me, you’d still be set free. I guarantee it.”
Bill seems relieved to hear that, sharing a look with Tom as if to say, “I told you so. Told you he wouldn’t leave us.”
Guessing that they are both probably sick to death of these four walls by now, I propose, “I can’t set you free right now but would you guys like to come back to my room for a change of scenery? We can eat there. I can have dinner with you…that’s if you want me to.”
Bill immediately brightens. “We would love that! Wouldn’t we, Tom?”
“I guess,” the bigger musician mumbles reluctantly. “Be good to get outta here for a while.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” I announce, gesturing for the twins to follow me. “This way.”
Rather than trail behind me, the boys fall in step beside me, Bill giving me shy looks of both happiness that I’m here, and dismay over my ruined face. Tom glances at me as well but tries to be covert about it. As I’m making my way down the corridor, I grimace and clutch at my ribs for a moment. Every step I take causes sharp pain to shoot through my side. Noticing my discomfort, Tom awkwardly averts his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Bill asks, stopping next to me with his forehead creased. “Is it your heart?”
I shortly shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he argues, taking in my stiff posture and shallow breathing. “You’re hurting. Are you having a heart attack?”
“My heart is fine, Bill. I have the ultrasound scans to prove it.”
“Then what is it?” Concerned, he reaches over and attempts to lift my shirt.
“No.” I grab his wrist. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to see what’s under there.”
“Well, show me and I’ll stop asking. It’s okay, I won’t touch anything,” he urges softly, his chocolate gaze asking for my trust. “Just let me look. Please?”
Weakened by his sincerity, I release his hand, feeling his slender fingers carefully tugging at my top, cool underground air hitting my skin. I close my eyes, not wanting to watch the horrified look appear on his face when he sees the ugly mass of yellow and violet bruising on my side, stretching from my hip all the way up to my armpit, clearly visible even with the dim hallway lighting.
“Oh Gott,” he whispers. “Are your ribs broken?”
“I don’t think so. Just badly bruised. I think my nose was the only thing that broke.”
From behind us, Tom unexpectedly blurts out, “I’m fucking sorry, okay?”
I turn to look at him, just like Bill is doing. Tom seems really upset, which both surprises and worries me. Pulling the shirt back down to cover my side, I enquire, “Why are you sorry? I thought you’d enjoy beating the crap out of me. Isn’t that what you’ve been dying to do?”
When he doesn’t supply one of his usual smart-ass remarks, I frown. “Haven’t you ever hit anyone before, Tom?”
“Not like that.” He chews his lip-ring in agitation and glances down. “I just…lost it. I was so angry it was like I was outside my own body. I didn’t even know what I was doing.”
“You were doing what I persuaded you to do,” I remind him. “What I wanted you to do. I wanted you to get angry. Surely you realise that.”
“Yeah, but…I still shouldn’t have done it.”
Bill is gazing between the two of us, staying silent. His empathic nature means that he’s feeling sorry for both of us but isn’t sure who to comfort first.
“Seriously, it’s completely fine,” I try to assure a guilt-stricken Tom. “It’s not like I haven’t gotten my ass kicked before. I used to be a professional fighter, remember? Anyway, I’m a fast healer. All this bruising will be gone in a few days.”
He won’t reply or even look at me, hanging his head in shame, so I reach over and take his chin in my hand, lifting it up and making him meet my gaze, his beautiful brown eyes filled with self-blame and other emotions that he’s valiantly keeping in. He jerks his chin out of my grasp, trying to act like he’s untouchable. He might have beaten me black and blue the other day but I know that deep down, past all that moodiness, aggression and frustrated rage, he’s a kind, caring boy who doesn’t really want to hurt anybody. He just feels emotion too intensely. But that’s one of the things I adore about him.
“Please don’t worry about it, Tom. I’m not.” My voice is forgiving. “Nothing you do or say will ever make me think badly of you. I know you’re a good person with a good heart.”
“I don’t care what you think of me,” he mutters, not sounding very convincing.
“Yes, you do or you wouldn’t be sorry.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Tom, what happened the other day was simply an example I was teaching you. I wanted to show you that it’s healthier to let go of your anger than to hold it in. A lesson,” I insist. “That’s all it was. Every time I’ve made you angry or pushed you beyond your limits, it was for a reason, to teach you something. Okay? Do you understand now?”
After a pause Tom meekly nods, finally accepting the fact that he’s not as in control as he thought he was.
Ending the conversation, I lead the twins to my room.
“Wait here for a sec – I just gotta tidy up,” I tell them, leaving the pair outside in the hall while I quickly unplug the small television screen I’ve been watching them with and hide it under my bed, along with the disgusting, crumpled-up tissues I’ve been blowing my bloody nose with. I straighten my blankets, put away the painkillers and make sure there’s nothing else lying around that I don’t want them to see. When I’m satisfied with the state of my room, I open the door again.
“Okay. Now you can come in.”
.........

TBC.
- 24
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- 26
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Captivation