It was an average night for Gavin Free. After work he and Michael went to the bar for a few drinks. They each nursed their beers wail laughing about things people said or did wail filming that day. Neither were sober, but they weren't drunk either. They were happily buzzed, simply enjoying each other's company.
Gavin rather enjoyed spending time with Michael. He was easily the best friend he had ever had. Even he and Dan were never this close. They were like brothers, and he knew that would never change.
Michael left about an hour after they arrived. He was meant to go out to dinner with Lindsey, so he needed to get home and get cleaned up. However, Gavin wasn't quite ready to leave. Griffon and Geoff were visiting Griffon's family down in San Marcos and he wasn't particularly looking forward to an empty house, so he stayed behind and finished his nearly full beer.
It was dark by the time he was walking home. He was stumbling a little, but he was still in control of himself for the most part. The walk home wasn't terribly far and he knew the way like the back of his hand. He was about to round a corner when he felt something hard smash against the back of his head. The hit left him disoriented for a minute. His vision went blurry and he couldn't tell which way was up or down. He quickly recovered enough to tell he was being pulled into a nearby alley way.
There was a hand placed over his mouth and something sharp was being held to his neck. He wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything to get away from the stranger behind him, but he couldn't. A mixture of fear and adrenalin pumping through his veins wouldn't let him move. He was dragged deeper and deeper until the figure turned him around and pushed him face first into the back wall. The sharp object that he now had determined was a knife, was still being held to his neck as the figure felt Gavin's pockets. He was no doubt looking for his wallet. Gavin hoped he would just take it and leave him alone, but he couldn't be so lucky.
The larger man yanked the wallet from the front pocket of Gavin's jeans and quickly pulled out the cash and put it in his own, but his hands returned to his jeans. Gavin figure he was looking for his phone, but froze when hands moved to unbutton his pants. He felt like he couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening, not to him. He felt his jeans being pulled down his legs and panicked. He tried to squirm out of the man's grasp, but was rewarded with more pressure on the knife. He could feel the warmth of a drop of blood running down his neck, which caused him to stop. Next, he could feel dirty hands tugging at the waist band of his boxers. He squeezed his eyes shut as they too, were pulled down. This was happening, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He wasn't sure exactuly when his attacker had pulled open his own jeans, but he could feel his erection rubbing against his thighs. He felt an odd wetness, and a small wave of relief washed over him as he realized it was a condom. However it was short lived as he felt his attacker kicking his ankles apart.
Although he knew what was coming next, nothing could have prepared him for the pain that shot through him as his attacker roughly pushed into him. He felt like he was being torn in two and did everything he could to keep from screaming out. His hands were clenched tightly in fists and he bit harshly on his lip until he could taste iron. The man began to thrust inside him, causing his face to be thrown against the wall repeatedly. His breathing came in short gasps and tears ran down his cheeks. The grotesque seen went on like this for what felt like hours to the brit. He let out a small sob when he heard the man grunt and moan behind him as he came. He pulled away from Gavin and he collapsed to the ground. He tried his best to curl up and protect his body from any more damage. He squeaked from surprise when his attacker's foot collided with his rib cage before dropping the used condom on his bruised body.
Gavin didn't dare move. Not even after he heard the sound of the man running out of the ally way. He laid there on the ground for at least a half hour after the man had left. Everything hurt, even thinking, but he knew he had to get home eventually. He took in a deep breath and pushed himself up until he was sitting on his knees. He looked around the dark alley for something he could use to support himself. Finding nothing, he opted to use the wall. He slowly stood, keeping one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other to awkwardly pull up his boxers and jeans. Frustrated at his futile attempts, he turned his back against the wall and added the help of his second hand. He quickly had his jeans buttoned and zipped, a minor miracle given how much he was shaking.
He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breath before trying to walk. He contemplated calling Michael, but quickly brushed aside the idea. Michael couldn't see him like this. No one could. It was too humiliating. They would think he was weak, disgusting. Just the thought of it made him want to start crying again, but he held back his tears. He needed to get home.
He took one small step and winced slightly as pain radiated throughout his body. He breathed deeply through his nose and tried his best to ignore it. He needed to keep at least one hand on the wall to keep steady, but at least he was walking.
He walked slowly to the place he now called home and mechanically reached for the hidden key by the front door. The bending hurt, but again he ignored it.
Once inside, he locked the door and stumbled into the bathroom. He didn't dare look at himself in the mirror. Simply turned on the shower and gently pulled his clothes off. As he pulled down his pants, he let out a moan of despair at the large blood stain on the back. The ruined clothes were hurriedly tossed away, as if they were poison to him. He tried not to look at the forming bruises covering his hips or his ribs, but he couldn't help it. He felt dirty and he needed to be clean.
He stepped into the shower, not even registering how hot the water was. He leaned against the wall sand slid down until his knees were in his chest. His chis rested atop his knees as he mindlessly watched a mixture of blood and dirt swirl down the drain.
How could he have let this happen? He could have fought harder, could have called for help at the first sign of danger. Why was he so stupid? He was weak.
Eventually Gavin began to scrub at his skin with a washcloth. He absently mindedly cleaned the blood between his legs. He held back tears again, but he didn't let them fall. He was alone right now, and he needed to take care of himself. He needed to keep his cool and not panic. He needed to be rational.
The hot water on his sore muscles worked wonders. As he slowly stood up, he ran a hand through his hair and winced when he got to the spot where he had been hit. A large bump had formed there, but it didn't feel like he was bleeding. Gavin could feel fear building up in his stomach but he bit it down and turned off the water. He quickly dried himself and made his way into his room. He slowly managed to dress himself in a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie before collapsing on his bed in exhaustion.
He fell asleep alone in his room, his hair still soaked from his shower. The lights were still on as he never got the chance to turn them off. He slept soundly, too exhausted for dreams. Swept away into a dark, peaceful abyss.