[ he's in the woods. tripping over raised, twisted roots, lungs aching, sweat stinging his eyes. there are footsteps behind him, not quite as quick as his own, calculated and heavy. disciplined and practiced, like they have this whole wood mapped. dwight swears under his breath, head craning to look over his shoulder, a movement which sends him a little bit sideways and fucks with his balance. the toe of his shoe, scuffed to hell, catches on a lifted root and he stumbles hard, palms hitting the dirt hard so his face doesn't.
he pushes through. skitters on all fours for a beat or two like a pathetic little dog until he can right himself and keep going. behind him, it's dark, but it's always fucking dark in the woods, black fog rolling at the edges like a threat on one side, a safety net on the other, but dwight's not sure he's past the threshold for violence.
in the distance, a small orange blip flickers, the glow of it just barely touching the soil around it. it feels like it's miles away, never any closer despite all of his panicked, frantic effort. dwight reaches out with one hand, opens his mouth to call out, but his voice catches in his throat. silent. the footsteps behind him draw closer, catching up, trailed by the muted sound of well-worn leather snapping quietly in the wind, except there is no wind. everything is still in these woods, except for dwight's rabbiting heart.
when he hits the ground a second time, it's much harder, palms crashing into the dirt just a second or two before his chin, the inside of his cheek caught in the painful, involuntary snap of his cheek. pinned down on his stomach with a familiar weight on his back, a knee on either side of him. immediately, he tastes blood in his mouth. immediately, he tries to twist and crawl his way out, fingers digging into the soil, grasping for anything, any sliver of leverage, but the earth underneath him is too soft, it gives way too much.
dwight is helpless. he's always fucking helpless.
he begs. sucks in a sharp breath, eyes dirt in his mouth, blood on his teeth. out loud, in his sleep. ]
No, no, no, please. Please don't, okay? I'll - help! No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—
[ cold metal rips into his flesh. sinks between his shoulder blades, just to the left of his spine. misses on purpose, because dwight wouldn't feel the rest if his attacker severed his spinal cord on the first try. dwight grits his teeth, writhes, squeezes his eyes shut, and when the knife is dragged all the way down to the bottom of his spine, he finally wakes, screaming.
wakes, but the weight pinning him down doesn't leave with the dream. dwight panics, arms reaching for anything, hands hitting the heavy headboard. his voice is rough, and pitched slightly higher with panic. ] Get off, let me go!
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he pushes through. skitters on all fours for a beat or two like a pathetic little dog until he can right himself and keep going. behind him, it's dark, but it's always fucking dark in the woods, black fog rolling at the edges like a threat on one side, a safety net on the other, but dwight's not sure he's past the threshold for violence.
in the distance, a small orange blip flickers, the glow of it just barely touching the soil around it. it feels like it's miles away, never any closer despite all of his panicked, frantic effort. dwight reaches out with one hand, opens his mouth to call out, but his voice catches in his throat. silent. the footsteps behind him draw closer, catching up, trailed by the muted sound of well-worn leather snapping quietly in the wind, except there is no wind. everything is still in these woods, except for dwight's rabbiting heart.
when he hits the ground a second time, it's much harder, palms crashing into the dirt just a second or two before his chin, the inside of his cheek caught in the painful, involuntary snap of his cheek. pinned down on his stomach with a familiar weight on his back, a knee on either side of him. immediately, he tastes blood in his mouth. immediately, he tries to twist and crawl his way out, fingers digging into the soil, grasping for anything, any sliver of leverage, but the earth underneath him is too soft, it gives way too much.
dwight is helpless. he's always fucking helpless.
he begs. sucks in a sharp breath, eyes dirt in his mouth, blood on his teeth. out loud, in his sleep. ]
No, no, no, please. Please don't, okay? I'll - help! No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—
[ cold metal rips into his flesh. sinks between his shoulder blades, just to the left of his spine. misses on purpose, because dwight wouldn't feel the rest if his attacker severed his spinal cord on the first try. dwight grits his teeth, writhes, squeezes his eyes shut, and when the knife is dragged all the way down to the bottom of his spine, he finally wakes, screaming.
wakes, but the weight pinning him down doesn't leave with the dream. dwight panics, arms reaching for anything, hands hitting the heavy headboard. his voice is rough, and pitched slightly higher with panic. ] Get off, let me go!