Heavy breaths echoed throughout the room. Ciel felt like an ant, a tiny, tiny insect, waiting to be trampled on. Everything just felt so… big. He wanted it to go away.
Now footsteps echoed, and Ciel counted: one, two, three, four, five, six. And again. One, two, three, four-
He was smacked hard across the face. The small boy let out a pitiful whimper, and the man above him chuckled to himself. His salt-and-pepper mustache twitched upwards with his lips, and as the lips parted yellowing teeth were exposed. When the man bent down and brown irises met blue, Ciel could smell his foul breath. It smelled like a mix of rotten fish and manure, and Ciel choked, coughing right in the man's face. He got another slap, softer this time, but his cheek was still sore from the last one, so it seemed even more painful than before.
When the man's warm, wet lips met the cold, pale skin on his neck, he shuddered and thrashed. It won't happen again, it won't, he told himself. But he couldn't move; his arms and legs were constrained with chains, his mouth gagged with a blue handkerchief that smelled too strongly of cologne.
Ciel did not give up, however. As the man's rough fingers dipped below the waistline of his pants, Ciel let out a scream. It went unheard, muffled by the handkerchief, but he couldn't stop, he wouldn't.
"Let. Me. Go!"
Ciel Phantomhive was never scared. He could not afford to be. His eyes slammed shut as pain began to take over his lower body and shoot upwards, all the way up his spine, and his eyes slammed shut. He would not cry.
He would not cry.
Hot tears cascaded down his cheeks and muffled sobs wracked his body.
When the man was finished, he took Ciel's chin in his hand and forced it up. He demanded Ciel open his eyes, and when he did, Ciel saw a cold, cruel smile. And with that, he knew that nothing would ever be okay again. Not for him.
The boy woke up screaming, the bed and his face wet. His eyes darted around to make sure no one was coming as heat rushed to his face. He gritted his teeth. It wasn't just a nightmare. He wasn't like a normal child who could tell himself that; no, he knew that that was an awful memory.
"Sebastian!" He yelled. The demon appeared.
"Yes, my lord?" And then a smile crept onto Ciel's face; he'd have his revenge, at the hands of Sebastian, and then his soul would be devoured, and he would die fulfilled. It was not a happy thought, but it was somewhat comforting.
"Help me change my clothes and clean up this mess."
"Yes, my lord." The butler repeated, affirmative this time. Ciel ignored the throbbing of his head and forced himself to think:
I am the head of the Phantomhives. Anyone who has hurt me will pay.
He had already fallen asleep by the time Sebastian had changed his nightclothes.