Trigger Warning.
Satan_Incarnate_666 You asked for this. 

Remington spends another two days in the hotel, just clearing his mind. He talks to his little brother and contemplates calling Andy, but only gets as far as opening his contact. He can't talk to the man yet. He buys Emerson a beautiful sketchbook in an expensive art shop. 

On the third night, he can't sleep. He has decided to go home in the morning and he's anxious about seeing Andy again. Of course he is.  

There is a knock on his door and he frowns, wondering who it could possibly be. If it was any other night and he wasn't so confused, he would have known better than to open the door. But not tonight. Tonight he can't think straight.

He unlocks the door and it is thrown open. Remington tries to scream, but a harsh and familiar hand is pushed hard against his mouth and no sound escapes. The boy struggles in her grasp, kicking hopelessly as she kicks the door shut and shoves him down onto the floor with a thud. Her actions are unforgiving.

Throwing his arms around proves useless and he loses strength, exhausted and so defeated in so many ways. Holly holds him against the ground with such force that he can feel the floorboards beneath the carpet. Air seems to disappear and he chokes on his breaths, trying to breathe so desperately that he loses the ability.

Thoughts fly around in his brain. How did she find him? Is she really here? Is this a nightmare? IS he going to die? Every move she makes terrifies him and hot tears slide quickly down his face and onto the floor and he clenches his fists so tightly he is sure his fingers are going to leave bruises on his palms. Nothing seems real.

The despicable and deceiving woman scrapes her acrylic nails across his cheekbone, drawing blood, and Remington's body quivers in fear and pain and he wishes for her to just kill him now. Time seems to slow down. Everything she does seems to last so much longer than it really does. Every small action seems so colossal.

The worst thing about all of this is that he's experienced it before.

"I heard you're gay now," she taunts, smirking that evil smirk that could make anyone tremble and shrink in fear. Remington closes his eyes to avoid looking at her. "No matter how gay you are, you will always belong to me." Her voice is so dry, so flat, so horrifyingly calm.

The poor man wriggles under her, already knowing what she's going to do. She has a routine

Capture. Weaken. Claim.

And she's already captured him and weakened him.

And claim him she will.

Her hand makes quick work of his belt. She forces his jeans over his hips and his underwear goes down with them. Remington sees no point in fighting anymore. It's easier to just endure it. To wait for it to be over. To pretend it never happened.

His eyes are closed so tightly he can see white sparks flickering, and he's grinding his teeth so hard he can taste blood. Nothing new.

Holly forces herself on him, holding him down and making him her slave.

Her own personal slave.

Remington is whimpering and gasping for air. Suddenly her hand is around his throat and her nails puncture his skin. Remington would scream if he could.

"I'm going to kill you tonight," she states, dragging her nails across his jaw. "Savour your last moments." Her words are so sick. She is so sick. "If you make a noise Emerson is next."

At the mention of his sweet, perfect little brother, Remington tenses even more than he already is. If tonight really is his last then he will do whatever the hell he has to to protect Emerson. He opens his eyes and the sight makes his stomach turn. He closes them again and endures the abuse.

So used to enduring it.

Once Holly is done, she climbs off him, pulls her trousers up, and grabs Remington. She pushes him into the bathroom and into the bath tub. He bangs his head on the side and his vision goes fuzzy. The taps are turned on and water soaks his clothes. Soon the bath is full, and Remington is barely managing to keep his head above the surface. He's so close to losing consciousness.

The boy doesn't see as she brings a knife down, and his head goes under as she digs the blade into his stomach. His screams are muffled by the water. The red water.

There is a noise outside the room and the woman freezes. Voices. "I heard a thump," one of them says, "muffled cries." Holly is quick to retract the knife. She hides it in her bag and stands up, drying her hands and leaving the room. She opens the door and furrows her brows, seemingly having no idea why they're in the corridor. "Everything okay, miss?" One of them asks.

Holly nods, smiling sweetly. "Fine. My husband just got some bad news. Sorry if we woke you." Her lies are so believable. Who would ever think she'd just stabbed him in a bath?

"Sorry for the bother," they say, going back into their rooms. Holly smirks. She leaves the hotel and no one suspects a thing.