He hears the upheaval. Of course he does. He'd have to be fucking senseless not to notice it, never mind that he's far from the room when the crash falls and the shouts follow, having walked the fuck across the beach in agitation, finding himself approaching the beach and what. The fuck. Is happening.
And why does that sound like Enri's name, shouted?
A drop internal: They've come for him again. Fucking bastards came back after Enri, came to take a grown goddamn man away after he's made his choice.
(Puppy is waiting for Daddy.
Puppy can't be pulled away again.)
Fuck. Fuck. And Darius ends his call abruptly, nearly hurls the phone into the sand as he strides, half-runs back toward his room. (Where Enri's waiting.) From which the sounds are clearly emanating. (If they've hurt Enri. If they've taken Enri. If they've fucked with Darius's intention again, and if they've grabbed Enri away from where the fuck he clearly wants to be—)
He reaches the door, hurls himself at the door. (Fucking locked. Who the fuck—)
He knows who the fuck. Knows that voice, the looming form inside. (Where's Puppy, what fucking right do these asshole have, charging in again?)
He pounds on the door, snarling: "Pendleton, let me the fuck in"
Calling: "Enri, Enri!"
Kicking at the bottom of the door, pulling at the knob, slamming his hand against the frame again, again, watching the forms through frosted glass and feeling a vine of panic tightening around his neck, his chest, his knowing.
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And why does that sound like Enri's name, shouted?
A drop internal: They've come for him again. Fucking bastards came back after Enri, came to take a grown goddamn man away after he's made his choice.
(Puppy is waiting for Daddy.
Puppy can't be pulled away again.)
Fuck. Fuck. And Darius ends his call abruptly, nearly hurls the phone into the sand as he strides, half-runs back toward his room. (Where Enri's waiting.) From which the sounds are clearly emanating. (If they've hurt Enri. If they've taken Enri. If they've fucked with Darius's intention again, and if they've grabbed Enri away from where the fuck he clearly wants to be—)
He reaches the door, hurls himself at the door. (Fucking locked. Who the fuck—)
He knows who the fuck. Knows that voice, the looming form inside. (Where's Puppy, what fucking right do these asshole have, charging in again?)
He pounds on the door, snarling: "Pendleton, let me the fuck in"
Calling: "Enri, Enri!"
Kicking at the bottom of the door, pulling at the knob, slamming his hand against the frame again, again, watching the forms through frosted glass and feeling a vine of panic tightening around his neck, his chest, his knowing.