Kaito sobbed quietly for some time, curled up in a little ball next to Master's shop table inside the tool shed that stood way out in the back yard. The natural light from outside shone in through the open door.
Everything hurt. His insides, and his outsides, and... his heart hurt too. He tried to comprehend, to understand and make sense of what had just happened. But it was incomprehensible. The things Len had done to him. Why? He didn't understand, at all. Had he done something so terribly wrong as to make his beloved little brother do those things to him?
Len's words echoed back inside his mind, that Kaito knew what he had done. Something with Master's friends. Something about numbers. About popularity. But he hadn't done anything. He hadn't done anything but sing Master's song, like he so loved to sing. Kaito didn't understand, and other words came back to haunt him. That Len would punish him again. That Kaito was dirty.
"I didn't do anything wrong," Kaito whispered brokenly to himself as he began to catalogue his hurts. He really was dirty. The stench of fresh urine clung to him. There was blood on the floor, between his legs, and cum staining his previously pure body. When Kaito opened his lips to whisper to himself, he tasted the salty and slightly bitter flavor of the combination of his tears, and Len's piss and cum on his mouth. The taste made him even more ashamed.
He couldn't let anyone see him like this. He couldn't let anyone know his shame. His body hurt so much. His arm muscles, abused from straining against the bonds of his favourite scarf... his scarf that now lay torn in half, discarded next to the leg of the shop table.
Kaito hesitantly reached a trembling hand towards it, but stopped short of touching it. He made a face like he was going to cry again, and reached out the rest of the way, picking the object up tenderly in his hands.
His legs, arms, stomache, even his head protested as he very, very carefully, pulled himself up. Lancing pain shot through Kaito as he stumbled slightly and caught himself against the table. Standing up was a monumental agony, his muscles and damaged insides screaming in protest.
Kaito pulled his shirt back over his head, wincing, tears in his eyes at the agony of movement. He slid his dirty, vomit-stained pants back onto his lower body, fumbling with the button and zipper with unsteady hands. Where the pants had gotten wet felt cold against his skin.
Limping, Kaito held on to the wall of the shed and made his way slowly towards the door. He looked fearfully, carefully out for several minutes before daring to step outside. He didn't know, if Len was lying in wait somewhere, ready to punish him again, and show Kaito his wrathful, resentful, hateful face again.
Remembering that angry looking face made Kaito want to cry. He made a pathetic, injured sound and leaned against the door for a moment, trying to get himself together.
After a few moments, collecting himself as much as he was able to considering his body and mind's state, Kaito slowly, gingerly, very trepidly made his way back into the main house.
Every little sound made him freeze in terror. Someone would come out. Someone would see him. He didn't know what, but he knew in his core that something TERRIBLE would happen if anyone were to catch him, to see him, looking like this. His body started shaking again, even though his muscles were exhausted from fear and anxiety.
Making his way to the bathroom, he noticed in blind relief that for once, it was not occupied. He slid carefully, carefully inside, turned, and closed the door. His muscles protesting every movement, every inch of effort. He ached, he hurt. And he was dirty. Dirty.
Kaito turned on the shower, waited for the water to warm up, and stepped inside, his filthy clothes still on him. The water soaked him instantly, and he put his head under the warm spray, trying to ignore the memory of the last warm liquid that had saturated his hair and face. He raised his face to the showerhead, and let the water wash over him.