It Starts With Him

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Rating: Explicit
Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Category: M/M
Fandoms: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels), The Price of Flesh (Video Game)
Relationships: Ren Hana/Strade, Ren Hana/Lawrence Oleander, Ren Hana/Lawrence
Oleander/Strade, Lawrence Oleander/Strade
Characters: Ren Hana, Strade (BTD/TINR), Lawrence Oleander
Additional Tags: Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Blood
and Gore, Domestic Violence, Trauma, Grief/Mourning, Self-Harm,
Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-05-13 Words: 2,427 Chapters: 1/?
 It Starts With Him
by Strawberrylane9

Summary

Strade has been killed by one of his captives. It was bound to happen. This leaves Ren alone
to figure out how to live his own life now, without the man he has come to depend on. He
must navigate through not only his grief but the mess that his captor had made of his psyche.
Would he ever live a normal life again, or would he follow in the footsteps of the man who
kept him for so long?
I knew deep down, this lifestyle was going to kill us. I always thought Strade would be the
last to die however, taking everyone out with him, including me. It’d been two years now
since I’d met Strade that one fateful night at the Braying Mule. I never had any intentions of
leaving with him, I’d gone there to meet someone else entirely. For some reason I can’t
remember who that was anymore. We’ve lived somewhat peacefully since then, I’ve become
Strade’s companion. Despite everything that happens, he doesn’t hurt me as much anymore.
He hurts other people, but not me, it made me feel special. It did, until I learned he found
another person, one he also wanted to keep. He even had another collar made especially for
them.
It made me jealous to know that he wanted them just as much as he wanted me. In fact, it felt
like he was spending more time with them rather than me. He kept them in the basement still,
although they were free to walk around down there. He went down there a lot. I didn’t bother
to see them. I didn’t care about this person. I did at first, I helped them to survive, I don’t
regret it but I simply don’t care about them. I wouldn’t hurt them, but I also wouldn’t mind if
they died. Sometimes I wished for Strade to kill them. I wouldn’t do it myself.

It was a normal summer day, Strade and I were lounging around. It was almost like a normal
couple dynamic but the metal around my neck was still cold. Strade was in the living room,
watching something on the TV. I couldn’t be confident what it was, but he typically only
liked watching the news in the morning or at night, midday news was never anything
important. I was in the kitchen making lunch for the three of us. Nothing fancy, just
sandwiches. Having three mouths to feed did take an effect on Strade’s budgeting even
though it had only been two months since they’ve been here. Normally I’d get some sort of
raw treat every day, as a fox it was satisfying to feed into my carnivorous cravings.
Unfortunately since I was mostly human, I could also survive on these bologna sandwiches
which were nowhere near as satiating.

I felt Strade’s presence in the doorway. Despite how much I knew he wouldn’t hurt me
anymore, his approach always made my body tense up. He knew he couldn’t sneak up on me,
foxes have great hearing, much better than humans. His low voice spoke up,
“Take yours and go eat in your room, I’m gonna take care of some stuff.”
He put his hand on my head and scratched between my ears. This was one of the few ways he
showed his affection to me. Strade’s love language was more with his actions than with his
words. Although, as I was headed out of the kitchen with my sandwich, Strade pulled me
back by my tail. He placed a quick kiss to my temple and whispered, “Ich liebe dich.” He still
spoke his native language although his accent wasn’t as strong as it used to be. I turned at
stared into his deep brown eyes. This close I could see the wrinkles starting to form in his
face, he was definitely going to have smile lines and crow’s feet. His hair was unkempt and
kind of greasy, and he smelled faintly of diesel fuel and his deodorant. Despite all this, he
looked strangely beautiful, and there was something going on in those eyes of his. It was like
he’d changed somehow.

I wonder if his instincts told him what was going to happen next. Part of me wonders how my
instincts didn’t.
“I love you too.” I replied and gave him a small smile. He always told me to smile more. I
didn’t hesitate in my response either. Strade and I had a strange relationship, I know, but we
really did love each other. He made me feel things I never knew I could. He taught me both
pain, and love. Sometimes they go hand-in-hand, he taught me that too.

And with that, I turned and walked out of the room. I could feel Strade’s eyes on me, even
when I wasn’t watching. Little did I know, it’d be the last time I saw him.

I headed upstairs, Strade’s room was the first one on the left. It wasn’t the biggest room, mine
actually was. I had the room at the end of the hallway and there was a full bathroom between
our rooms. Strade’s room always smelled of cigarettes and Strade’s personal scent. It’s not
body odor per se, but everyone has their own musk. I had been spending more time in
Strade’s room than my own lately, even when he was just reading, or doing stuff on his
computer he would request my company. I’d mostly just watch him or sleep. He’d always be
next to me when I woke up. It made me feel special, like he trusted me enough to not use the
collar and just sleep with me right there.

He knew I would never hurt him, even if I was an animal. He tamed me.

I sat on my bed and began picking apart my sandwich. I normally would eat the meat first but
bologna barely made the cut so I decided to keep my sandwich together. My ears perked up
as I heard some noises. I had great hearing, so I could hear that something wasn’t right. I
heard metal crashing and Strade yelling, he normally wasn’t this loud. I tried to focus on the
sounds but I needed to get closer to know for sure what was happening.

I creeped out of my bedroom and tip-toed down the hallway. I moved silently along the stairs,
I could hear the other captive crying and shrieking like a cornered animal. Suddenly, all the
noises stopped. I came to the hatch in the floor. I peered cautiously into the dark.
“Strade?” I called out softly. I heard shuffling and I called out again, “Strade, is it okay?”
I gulped before placing my foot on the first step, that’s when I heard his voice.
“Ren.” He managed to grunt out, his voice sounding wet. All the anxiety I had disappeared
and replaced itself with adrenaline. Something happened to Strade. My world nearly seemed
to spin as I nearly tripped down the stairs. My bare feet contacted the cool cement at the
bottom and my eyes adjusted to the little yellow light bulb. My eyes widened in shock at the
sight I met.

Strade lay on the floor, desperately crawling to the stairs with what little strength he had left.
He lifted his head to meet my gaze. Blood pooled all around him, most of it belonged to the
corpse crumpled up a few feet away. Strade really seemed to fuck their face up, if you could
even still call that a face. I could clearly see the knife wounds in Strade’s shoulder, and more
importantly his neck. I could see it gushing from him, rapidly. I didn’t know a human could
still live with that much blood pouring from them.
He kept my gaze for what felt like an eternity, I wish it had been. I saw things in those eyes
that I never knew Strade was capable of feeling. It was like we were silently communicating
with each other all the things we never said out loud. I’d never see eyes like those again. And
for the first time, it seemed that Strade was afraid. There was so much else going on in him,
regrets, anger, sadness, but it was the fear that truly stood out to me. I wondered if my eyes
held that same fear when I met him. I wondered if he could see my fear now that I might lose
him. I say might, but I knew deep down what was going to happen. Even if there had been a
doctor and a surgeon and whoever else down there with us right then, he wouldn’t have made
it. And it was only me and him down there. It was me and him, the way it always should have
been. His expression didn’t match his eyes, he looked rather annoyed by this, like a little kid
who lost at his own game. So much went through my head, but in those few moments my life
flashed before my eyes, despite me not being the one dying. I could remember everything he
did to me. The way my blood stained this same cement floor, the way those hands strangled
me countless times and violated my body. I hated Strade and what he did to me. I hated him.
That was all I could think, I wanted him to die.
He coughed loudly, bloody spit dripping down his chin to join the growing puddle on the
floor. He inhaled, wheezing as the blood also began to fill his lungs. He mustered up the
strength to speak, “Ren,” a long pause and another deep, wheezy breath, “help me.” He
sputtered and I saw the color drain from his face, he lost his scowl and anything he had
behind his eyes. His body slumped to the floor.

Strade was dead.

I felt as if I was dreaming, no longer in control of my body or my fate. My body unfroze and
I took a tiny step towards him.
“Strade?” I called out quietly, almost afraid he’d get up and punish me for not helping him.
There was no response though. I took another step towards him and crouched before him.
“Strade?” Still nothing. Oh my God, he was actually dead. The shock began to set in.
“Strade! Stop it!” I rolled his body over and sat on the cement floor beside him. I began
doing everything I could. His eyes were open and lifeless, it disgusted me. I tried to do CPR,
blowing hot breaths down his mouth, only for them to come right back up in bloody bubbles
through the gash in his throat. It was my fault he died because I did nothing. I needed to save
him, he was all I had. I began to do chest compressions, willing him to take a breath and
come back to me. “Come on Strade, don’t do this to me damn it!” My claws began to tear
desperately through his clothes and inevitably his skin. His blood was still warm, maybe his
heart was still okay.
What little humanity I had, left my body then. Like an animal I tore through him, the skin
was soft and easy to get through, bones were normally tougher but my adrenaline made it feel
as though I were simply snapping sticks. I remember being a teenager and walking through
the woods of Canada, the branches breaking beneath my feet. This sound was similar, but
more wet. Past his bones and lungs, I found it. Turns out Strade really did have a heart. It was
bigger than I expected. And it was still. There were no more beats left in it. I clawed through
all the veins and arteries, and pulled out my prize. I weeped. I don’t think I can truly put into
words how it felt. I lost him, and I lost years of my life because of him. I wanted so badly to
hate him, and I said I did, but I also knew that I loved him. I held the muscle up to my lips
and tasted his blood. I never saw him bleed before. It was easy to forget the monster was
human. I ate his heart, the way he ate mine. His heart belongs to me and the bitter taste of his
blood will never be forgotten. He will always be a part of me, the way I had become part of
him.
Once it was gone, I watched as my tears fell into his empty chest cavity. Something once so
full.
I needed to keep him, I couldn’t just let him rot here. Besides the mess it would create, he
deserved the dignity. I looked around the basement frantically when my eyes fell on the deep
freezer. I hurried over to it and threw open the lid. He could fit in here. The contents weren’t
important to me at the moment, so I tossed mine and Strade’s frozen meat onto the basement
floor carelessly. I dragged his body over to the cooler, thanking the adrenaline I still had as
his dead weight was probably twice what I weighed. What a glutton, a diet wouldn’t have
killed him. What an ironic thought. I struggled to get him up and over into the freezer but I
somehow managed.
I wish I could say he looked at rest, but whatever afterlife there was, I doubt he’d be treated
kindly after the life he lived. His eyes were open and they looked shocked. I reached down
and brushed a lock of his hair out of his face, I leaned in and planted a kiss to his temple.
That was the last time I kissed him.

Now there was only the problem of the other one. The murderer’s murderer. I’d worry about
them later, it’s not like they’re going anywhere. I reached back into the freezer and felt
Strade’s pockets. He had his wallet, a pocket knife, his keys, and the thing I was looking for. I
looked down at the items in my hands, but specifically the small remote.
I shut the freezer and went upstairs admiring the little thing. It’s crazy how such a small thing
caused me so much anguish and pain. I knew what the big red button on the front did all too
well, but the small switches on the side were unfamiliar. It was a risk, but I flicked one of the
switches with hesitation. There was a small click and then the collar around my neck fell into
my lap. It was so sudden, very anticlimactic.
Everything happened so suddenly, almost as if this weren’t real. Maybe this was just a dream.
The adrenaline was starting to wear off and I began feeling tired. I laid down on the couch.
The blood from my skin and clothes seeped into the fabric, but I wasn’t bothered enough to
care. I shut my eyes and allowed myself to escape this nightmare, just like I had so many
times before.
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