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Apt Pupil 2
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1 through F › Apt Pupil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
1,334
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Category:
1 through F › Apt Pupil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
1,334
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Apt Pupil or any of the characters associated with it. They belong to Stephen King and Brian Singer. No money was made from this wiriting.
Apt Pupil 2
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are being used without permission. They were created by Stephen King and can be found in the collection Different Seasons. The characters as they appear here, it must be said, more closely resemble those appearing in Bryan Singer’s adaptation of King’s novella.
“You’re killing your soul with an audience looking on.”
-The Whitlams
“Suppose damnation is eternal! A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he? I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am. This is the catechism at work. I am the slave of my baptism. You, my parents, have ruined my life, and your own. Poor child! –Hell is powerless against pagans. –I am still alive! Later on, the delights of damnation will become more profound. A crime, quick, and let me fall to nothingness, condemned by human law.”
-Arthur Rimbaud
“Amor vincit omnia.”
-Virgil
Prologue
Edward French left and Todd breathed an audible sigh of relief. He had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it finally had. French had said his piece; he had handled it. It was over.
Entering the house with legs too shaky to support him, Todd dropped the basketball on the kitchen floor. It would sit on the tasteful ceramic tile, up against one of the fashionably designed cabinets, until Monica moved it some hours later. For now though, it sat forgotten as Todd routinely dropped three aspirin tablets into his palm. For months now, Monica had watched him with maternal concern while Todd’s use of the painkiller increased and he complained of frequent headaches. (Dick, urged by his wife’s concern, had asked him about it once to which Todd replied; “It’s just probably stress from school, Dad. Gotta keep those grades up.” He had flashed a typically Todd smile and the conversation had been forgotten).
Swallowing the tablets with ice water from the fridge, Todd let his legs give out. He collapsed, baselessly hitting the floor, as the world around him faded to a gray static.
XXX
Kurt Dussander was standing inches from his face. His uniform crisp and neat as was the rest of his person. The term “Prussian Efficiency” welled up in the back of Todd’s brain, but the bite of the cold air kept the thought trapped there. Looking down, Todd realized that he was wearing nothing but thin paper. It was on the tip of his tongue to complain when Dussander spoke.
“Don’t bother, boy. It’s a nightmare you’re having while lying in another one of your faints in your parents’ nice American floor.”
“What do you want?”
“Boy, you ask the wrong questions. Maybe you always have, huh? The question,” Dussander paused, his polished boots clicking together despite the snow between them, “is what do YOU want.”
Todd regarded him with open disgust, “If I’m the one in control why are you the one in the uniform?”
Dussander smiled, teeth clearly visible and yellowed with years of nicotine, “Haven’t you figured it out by now boy? I think that maybe we are fucking each other.”
Dussander began to laugh; a horrible old man’s laugh that spoke volumes of impending death. His laughing was intercepted with wheezing; wheezing that quickly changed into a hard and phlegm-filled cough.
Todd felt his head fill with the sounds of that laugh. Sounds that quickly built into an unbearable pressure.
“Shut up!” he shouted at this laughing Dussander. “Shut up! Shut up! You’re dead! You hear me you dumb old fuck?! You’re dead and I’m free! I’m—“
He stopped suddenly. Words still dying on his lips as his eyes focused on his left arm. There on his arm, dark against the cold white flesh, was a number.
“No,” the word was soft but his voice began to grow with panic. “No…No…No! No! We’re fucking each other! You said we were fucking each other!”
Dussander’s voice was calm, rational and almost pitying. “Boy. We are. You were on top for a while. Now it is my turn.”
The laughter began again and Todd felt his face burn hot with humiliation and helplessness.
(I will not cry. I will not cry.)
XXX
Oh my god! Dick!”
Dick knelt beside his unconscious son, quickly assessing the situation. “It’s okay, baby. It just looks like he fainted. He should come around in a couple of minutes.”
Todd’s eyelids fluttered, “See? It’ll be okay.” Dick turned from his wife to his child, addressing the young man in calm, soothing tones. “Todd? Come around, Sport.”
“Dad?”
“You’re okay. Up you go,” Dick turned him into a sitting position. “Monica, get him a glass of water.”
“No, I’m okay. Really,” his voice was shaky, but his face was already regaining come of its lost colour. “I just need some air.”
“Alright. We’re crowding now, aren’t we?”
“A little.”
Seeing his parents concern, he flashed them a sunny smile. Satisfied, they both moved into the adjoining room. Neither had pain enough attention to realized that the smile didn’t quite meet Todd’s eyes. No, Todd was far from A-Okay. In fact, he was beginning to believe that he’d never be truly okay again.
“You’re killing your soul with an audience looking on.”
-The Whitlams
“Suppose damnation is eternal! A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn’t he? I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am. This is the catechism at work. I am the slave of my baptism. You, my parents, have ruined my life, and your own. Poor child! –Hell is powerless against pagans. –I am still alive! Later on, the delights of damnation will become more profound. A crime, quick, and let me fall to nothingness, condemned by human law.”
-Arthur Rimbaud
“Amor vincit omnia.”
-Virgil
Prologue
Edward French left and Todd breathed an audible sigh of relief. He had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it finally had. French had said his piece; he had handled it. It was over.
Entering the house with legs too shaky to support him, Todd dropped the basketball on the kitchen floor. It would sit on the tasteful ceramic tile, up against one of the fashionably designed cabinets, until Monica moved it some hours later. For now though, it sat forgotten as Todd routinely dropped three aspirin tablets into his palm. For months now, Monica had watched him with maternal concern while Todd’s use of the painkiller increased and he complained of frequent headaches. (Dick, urged by his wife’s concern, had asked him about it once to which Todd replied; “It’s just probably stress from school, Dad. Gotta keep those grades up.” He had flashed a typically Todd smile and the conversation had been forgotten).
Swallowing the tablets with ice water from the fridge, Todd let his legs give out. He collapsed, baselessly hitting the floor, as the world around him faded to a gray static.
XXX
Kurt Dussander was standing inches from his face. His uniform crisp and neat as was the rest of his person. The term “Prussian Efficiency” welled up in the back of Todd’s brain, but the bite of the cold air kept the thought trapped there. Looking down, Todd realized that he was wearing nothing but thin paper. It was on the tip of his tongue to complain when Dussander spoke.
“Don’t bother, boy. It’s a nightmare you’re having while lying in another one of your faints in your parents’ nice American floor.”
“What do you want?”
“Boy, you ask the wrong questions. Maybe you always have, huh? The question,” Dussander paused, his polished boots clicking together despite the snow between them, “is what do YOU want.”
Todd regarded him with open disgust, “If I’m the one in control why are you the one in the uniform?”
Dussander smiled, teeth clearly visible and yellowed with years of nicotine, “Haven’t you figured it out by now boy? I think that maybe we are fucking each other.”
Dussander began to laugh; a horrible old man’s laugh that spoke volumes of impending death. His laughing was intercepted with wheezing; wheezing that quickly changed into a hard and phlegm-filled cough.
Todd felt his head fill with the sounds of that laugh. Sounds that quickly built into an unbearable pressure.
“Shut up!” he shouted at this laughing Dussander. “Shut up! Shut up! You’re dead! You hear me you dumb old fuck?! You’re dead and I’m free! I’m—“
He stopped suddenly. Words still dying on his lips as his eyes focused on his left arm. There on his arm, dark against the cold white flesh, was a number.
“No,” the word was soft but his voice began to grow with panic. “No…No…No! No! We’re fucking each other! You said we were fucking each other!”
Dussander’s voice was calm, rational and almost pitying. “Boy. We are. You were on top for a while. Now it is my turn.”
The laughter began again and Todd felt his face burn hot with humiliation and helplessness.
(I will not cry. I will not cry.)
XXX
Oh my god! Dick!”
Dick knelt beside his unconscious son, quickly assessing the situation. “It’s okay, baby. It just looks like he fainted. He should come around in a couple of minutes.”
Todd’s eyelids fluttered, “See? It’ll be okay.” Dick turned from his wife to his child, addressing the young man in calm, soothing tones. “Todd? Come around, Sport.”
“Dad?”
“You’re okay. Up you go,” Dick turned him into a sitting position. “Monica, get him a glass of water.”
“No, I’m okay. Really,” his voice was shaky, but his face was already regaining come of its lost colour. “I just need some air.”
“Alright. We’re crowding now, aren’t we?”
“A little.”
Seeing his parents concern, he flashed them a sunny smile. Satisfied, they both moved into the adjoining room. Neither had pain enough attention to realized that the smile didn’t quite meet Todd’s eyes. No, Todd was far from A-Okay. In fact, he was beginning to believe that he’d never be truly okay again.