A/N: 'Lo, all.
So there's this really amazing chick who writes really amazing fanfictions based in the Kingdom Hearts fandom. Her name's Annie Christ, and this small snippet of a fic is dedicated to her work (though it pales in comparison to her writing). The fic's called Fire Crotch and the Friend Zone Virgins, and I highly suggest you all read it, if you don't mind Yaoi. I don't normally go for Yaoi myself, but in the canon world, I can definitely see some sparks between the two characters. And MUH GAWD, I am sooo glad I did read! GO READ ITTT. AC, thanks for writing such awesome stuff!
(Possible spoiler to AC fic) In this fic, Rox is in a Gay camp. A scene where he reveals a little bit about what happened there inspired this. He also ends up with a form of PTSD from the experience. I don't believe that would necessarily be the entire reason behind the development of the disorder (in fact I can see more than this happening), but yeah...
*Warning: this fic is dark, and is based off of heavy subjects. MATURE CONTENT. RAPE/ABUSE, YAOI, MAN/MAN, and SWEARING (because, you know, if you don't have an issue with the aforementioned, a few F bombs will totally scare you off x.x), and all that good stuff. But you know what? for once, no character death warning! Whee!
And of course, the good old I do not own Kingdom Hearts disclaimer. Square Enix does. If I did... well, we won't go there.
PS: the Bible bit I have here? I'm not religious in the least bit. So, if I've cited wrong or whatever, somebody please let me know. x.x
You've been warned about what lies ahead! So if you're gonna keep going... enjoy!
21:14
…But I will punish you according to the fruit of your doings, saith the LORD: and I will kindle a fire in the forest thereof, and it shall devour all things round about it.
Jeremiah 21:14
I woke with his sweaty palm pressed against my lips, shoving my head deeper in to the flaccid pillow. The pointer finger of his free hand slid a thin line up my jugular, then circled my ear teasingly.
For several moments, there was nothing but loud breathing and the scent of alcohol. I lay ridged, feeling my hummingbird heart as the heavy heat of his body shifted, his knee between my legs. Face to my neck, I felt him inhale; his tongue came out to dip in to the hollow of my collar bone. Sloppy.
I wanted to curl my spine, to scream, do anything to rid me of the revulsion.
"Roxas," he hissed, and I whimpered deep in my throat. Pulling away just slightly, I was forced to look at his silhouette looming over me. "You got a boyfriend?"
I couldn't voice an answer if I wanted. Panic had wrapped it's silken threads around my nerves, knotted in my head, my chest. Vaguely, I became aware of the faint trembling in my fingers, the jelly-like quality to my legs. My body wanted to run, knew it couldn't.
His knee came up toward my groin with such suddenness that I yelped beneath the salty flesh of his hand. I tried to clamp my thighs together, but he was there. Bigger, stronger.
"Boyfriend?" This time, I shook my head no. He scoffed.
"How'd ja get here, then, mm? Yer parents find some nice pictures stashed under th'bed?" He tilted his head back, exhaling through his nose. "Mm, no. No, I bet you do have a boyfriend. Pretty little queen like you. You prolly have sev'ral."
The hand trailed down. Traced along the elastic waistline of my shorts for a moment before his thumb hooked beneath. The trembling centralized itself to my core. Panic struck a chord my chest. I couldn't breathe.
"Bet you're some type a' man whore," he continued, releasing the waistband with a snap. "Some type of cunt wanabe. Southern white trash, fuckin' yer little boy cousins?" The free hand slipped beneath the small of my back just as his grip tightened on my face, digging in to my cheeks. Without warning, he flipped me to the left, clumsily shoving me in to the cement wall before pulling me back before him.
"Up on your paws, bitch."
I wanted to beg him to stop. To make him stop. To reach back and take the reins on this fucking hellhole of a life and reach the type of control I sought through body piercings and Axel.
Axel… I never had control. He provided me a false sense of security. A place to stay at night, someone to hide behind. Even when I had to leave him, knowing I could come right back after everything was over was the only thing that kept me sane.
My pants came down to my knees, and I felt rough, unfamiliar hands circle my hips. Only one person had touched me like this before, and he wasn't here.
Where was my sanity now?
Off to college in New York, crushing the shattered pieces of a promise beneath his feet. No doubt completely oblivious to my current predicament… studying, drinking, smoking, possibly fucking someone, not knowing where I was. Or caring. Nobody is here to save me, nobody to keep me safe from the very thing I've grown up fearing throughout my entire life.
Axel didn't know how pathetic I was, how spineless, that I would simply bare my ass to my rapist like a tamed lapdog. Where he was, he couldn't see the fear battle with shame across my sweat-slicked face as the man behind me readied himself. Then again, maybe he saw how much of a fuckin twat I've been all along. Maybe I was just another high school fling, for him.
To Axel, maybe it had been fake. But fuck, it had been real for me.
Behind me, he growled. Still gripping my hips, he pitched me forward, a human battering ram against cement. I saw stars, tasted blood, felt my vocal cords work involuntarily around a whine as my mind registered the rules of the game. I was being too complacent, not enough fight. He'd make one, if he needed.
I bucked and aimed a pathetically weak kick toward him. He shoved me forward again, took my sheet, and using his weight on my back shoved the corner in to my mouth.
I didn't know he was ready until he had already forced his way inside. Pain seared through me, like a bullet travelling up between my pelvis, coming to a burning stop in my chest. It pulsated to the beat of his thrusting, leaving me without time to recuperate, mindlessly pawing at the mattress for purchase as I sought to drag myself away from him. The moans of pleasure I would have normally uttered for my lover were twisted and ground down to guttural screams just barely muffled by the rusty bed linens.
My actions were rewarded with more stars and a fresh metallic taste in my mouth. Pain and dizziness reverberated through my head, but was no rival to what I was feeling at the tip of my spine. Slumping forward, my cheek met the bed. I was barely aware of an added pressure to my hip bones as he held me up and to him.
"Ask Jesus for forgiveness!" His breathing was punctuated by the force of his hips against my ass. The clap-clap sound of our skin increased, and I felt something give. Warmth dribbled down my legs, and the scent of rust increased, like a fog.
My only response was to moan, to lay flaccid as I stared ahead the bright red digits of my alarm clock. 10:04 became 10:05, and I thought if any higher being loved me, Jesus or God or otherwise, he'd let me lose consciousness right then and there. Or die.
It was 10:14 he finally finished, left me in a room stinking of blood and sweat. Unable to move for the first few minutes, I waited until I was positive it was my breathing alone that I could hear; my first action was to slowly lower the aching bottom half of my body to the mattress, then reach back and touch the sticky red fluid which was slowly ceasing to flow.
I stared at my hand numbly, rolling my thumb over my pointer and middle fingers until the fluid coagulated and began to flake away. My thoughts were flighty, mindless, buzzed about my head with no rhyme or reason. Bits and pieces of me argued with reality, insisted that nothing had been real.
But there was no denying the blood, the pain which still throbbed and burned throughout me. My diaphragm spasmed, pushing the sobs up my throat till they hissed out from between clenched teeth. My eyes, perhaps still arguing the point of reality, were slow to catch up and blur the world in saline.
Unhooking my jaw, I made a noise which mimicked the cry to a wounded animal, or a retarded child. There were no words for the gnarled mass of emotions. The sound erupted from me again with more vigor, laced with pain, as I attempted to curl myself in to a ball and failed.
So I simply stayed put, bleeding, crying like the useless moron I am, feeling dirtier than I ever had, and impossibly alone.
Axel had promised he'd be here. If he couldn't make it,that meant he was dead… this is what I have earned myself. Empty promises and pain, a false sense of security in someone who for the first time in my life managed to make me feel like a person, rather than a shadow. Ironic, that I had changed myself to his likeliness in an effort to reach forth and be "me."
I was still a shadow. A nothing. Just a different person's likeliness. I pierced and tattooed my body under the premise that I was creating my image, when it was all just an act so believable that I had fooled myself.
A gay boy. A "whore," a fool, a nobody.
My parents were right.
I hate them.
In fact, I hate myself.
Worst: he never loved me.
No, this was the worst: I loved him. Love him. For Christ's sake, I had no idea how to make that stop. To cease the compulsive thoughts of what he'd say, what he'd be doing, why he wasn't here.
All that time spent in the dark, and I never slept the same after.
A/N: I haven't even touched the... what's the word? Intricate? Whatever, intricate type of relationship that Axel and Roxas have/had/will have/might have had/you'll just have to read her fic, then won't you?/won't ever have again. There's a lot more than surface, and Roxas's feelings would have gone deeper than this. At the same time, I was trying to juggle that with panic and denial on his part (post rape victims aren't always philosophical in the minutes after an event). Hopefully, I've done Annie Christ some justice!
Thanks for reading! :)