#bailey tag

"I-" Bailey's shaking voice stumbled from his chapped lips, "I didn't mean to." His ears pinned back, blending into the tangled, knotted mess of hair on his head.

"Didn't mean to do what?" Strade implored, a growing sense of intrigue and excitement laced in his sweet, sing-song voice.

"I just wanted her to get away from me, I swear!" Large tears rolled down Bailey's cheeks as he choked on sobs that rocked his chest. "She was yelling at me and I just- I just meant to push her! I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't mean to hurt her like that!" Bailey stumbled over his words as he confessed his darkest sin to the devil holding his face.

"Oooh," the demon crooned, "but it still happened! Even if you didn't mean to." His tone held a sickening sweetness, his grip still firm as his hand was wet by tears. "Now say it out loud to me. Say exactly what you did to her."

Bailey whimpered louder than ever, a true canine whimper that touched back to the bestial part of himself. "I-" his voice wavered, unsteady and unsure of itself. "I-" he tried again, and failed to speak those rotten words.

"Be a good boy for me, Bailey." Strade's hands no longer held a harsh grip, but instead a soothing touch on the cheek, gently raising Bailey's face. "I, what? Say it. Confess to me, and you will be absolved."

Strade's fierce orange eyes bore deeply into Bailey's soul, and the boy had to close his eyes to distance himself from their intimidating gaze. Strade's hands, though rough and worked, now gave a gentle touch, softly and sweetly coaxing the confession from him.

"I-" Bailey began again, his hazey mind feeling all too entranced by the combination of fear and pain from his many days chained up. "I killed her." His voice was a whisper, as if saying the words were killing his mother a second time. They burned his tongue, and made him taste bile in the back of his throat. "I killed my mother!" Bailey yipped, his composure shattering as he thrashed and kicked his way out of Strade's grasp.

Strade backed up, leaning on the counter behind him as he watched all of Bailey unfold before him.

Years worth of suppression all spilled over all at once. He keened and cried and even howled at certain points, barking and coughing as he writhed on the ground. He was mourning the death of his mother, and the death of his own self as he cried and screamed into the ground.

Strade watched in astonishment. He almost couldnt believe someone as soft and weak as Bailey was, or perhaps made himself out to be, could kill anyone, even when pushed to the brink. But no person, no matter how good an actor they may be, could replicate the true soul baring intensity of the scene which played out at his feet. The poor thing, he needed guidance. He needed to be un-trained from his domestication, and taught how to be a good little hound dog. Strade let the display continue until Bailey was nothing more than a shivering, whimpering mess, broken from his bindings and curled in a ball on the concrete floor.

"There, there." Strade cooed softly as he got back down on his knees and pulled the boy up to a sittibg position. "You'll feel better now that you've confessed. As I promised, you are absolved." Strade gently pushed Bailey's dirty bangs away from his face. "The devil punishes sinners, Bailey. You're not a sinner anymore."

The words were more comforting than Strade knew, and Bailey fell into his chest, rubbing his wet face into Strade's forest green shirt.

"You'll be good for me from now on, won't you?" Strade asked calmly, gently, feeling the tickle of Bailey's ears against his cheek.