It hurts like hell.

“Can’t tell me the truth?” Larkin finished for Tic, roughly grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the doorway, which was mostly blocked except for a narrow path through the bed and dresser. Larkin was angry now, upset by Tic’s disobedient behavior, but thrilled at the fresh emotion that boiled within him. It felt good, new and exciting and something to do without having to leave the confines of his warm, comfortable home. And the boy was different, too. He was not a pampered snob, or so demented like himself and the people he was use to dealing with. He was timid, gentle and fragile, and the mystery around him was intriguing.

“I don’t suppose there was much to tell. What would you say to a bumbling fool that invades your room and decides to make it into a fortress?” he said, the anger showing in Larkin’s voice as he led Tic through the doorway and over the fallen doors in the hall and around the corner, feet moving briskly. “We’ll have to get you another room for awhile, until everything can be put back into place, cleaned and properly repaired.” He released Tic’s wrist, and put his arm tightly around the boy’s shoulders, the axe swinging on his other side.

Larkin stopped some way down the hall at one of the heavily carved and decorated doors, releasing Tic and leaning the axe against the wall. He reached inside his over shirt, searching for the key that fit these particular doors. When it was found, he unlocked the doors and pulled them open, once again grabbing Tic by his shoulder and shoving him inside. He stood in the doorway and breathed in the dusty air, looking down at Tic, his eyes narrowing into a glare of disappointment, “You do not hold anything over me. I have the power here and no one should deny it. But denial does arise and it never escapes unpunished. I’ll see you tonight.”

The doors slammed shut and were locked from the outside, key going back to its place among the others Larkin kept close to his skin.