Lately I've managed to convince them that I'm better. I'm being more careful, more alert. I lie so well it almost feels like I'm telling the truth when I smile and joke over a dinner I can't taste. And they don't suspect a thing. Well, that's not exactly true; most of them don't suspect a thing. Heero is the one I have to be the most careful around. Quatre is basically convinced by fake smiles and large gestures. He learned to block out the pain he felt from me long ago. Just like everyone else.
It was stupid of me to think that the damage would be irreversible when they found out. Strangely, things only changed for a couple of days, before lapsing back to ordinary again. It's as I've always known; the world still spins, regardless of my pain. The only one who seems to remember that a few short weeks ago they found me lying in my own bloody bathwater, passed out from the combination of exhaustion, drugs, alcohol and blood loss, is Heero. Of course, I didn't tell them about the drugs, but Heero had known about them for years. Not that he ever cared enough to confront me about them. He never cared, even though he alone knows I've been killing myself slowly since I became a pilot.
I find it odd that he's become my enemy in everything. He checks my wrists and legs for cuts, he takes away my razorblades, and lately, he's been going through my room, taking my drugs, alcohol, and even over-the-counter painkillers. He follows me when I go out, and monitors what I buy. I hate him, but a part of me is glad that he's at least noticing me now.
He will just sit there, staring at me with this dark knowledge in his eyes, calculating how I've fucked up today. Some day I'm just going to grab a knife off the kitchen counter and stab the smug bastard.
The hardest thing for me to swallow is that he does it all damn-near silently. He only yelled once, and I came out of that argument with a split lip and bruised ribs. He hasn't apologized yet. Fucking perfect, silent, calm, freak that he is. I haven't succeeded in breaking his façade at all. Even when he beat me up, he was cold and deadly about it, handling it the same way he handles routine interrogations on OZ soldiers. He's everything I'm not, and I hate that. I hate being second to someone so inhuman. He doesn't care about anyone or anything. The only reason he cares about me all of a sudden is so I'm still good for missions. If he thought I wasn't useful anymore he'd dispose of me in an instant. I know he's threatened on countless occasions. And Heero Yuy doesn't make empty threats.
On the other hand, sometimes I think that being angry at him is the only thing that keeps me sane at all. As long as I can hate him I have something to hold on to.
I've locked myself in my bedroom. I can't take them anymore. I just want to unwind, away from their judging eyes. I know I have approximately seven minutes before Heero will follow me, and I have to make good use of that time. I have to be gone before then.
Sighing, I peel off my shirt and pants, taking my boxers off too after a second of thought. I shove them into a drawer and find a pair of tight vinyl pants. They're not the most comfortable things, but they look very nice on the dance floor. I decide between a full-sleeved shirt and a cropped mesh tank-top. Fuck it; I want to get laid tonight, don't I? I pull on the tank-top, loop a belt around my thin hips, push earrings into place and dust my face with make-up. The eyeliner is last; thick and perfect for accenting my too-large eyes. I would do more, but I'm running out of time. I slip a packet of powder and money inside my waistband, knowing I'll need it later, The window is already open, and I'm grateful because it makes a lot of noise. I hang from the sill and drop the rest of the way to the ground, landing almost-silently. Heero still could have done better.
Once out of the house I run to the garage, glad that I'd left my motorcycle outside earlier when I was fixing it. It makes a shocking amount of noise when I start the engine. If they didn't know I was leaving before, they sure as hell do now. It's okay though, because I'll be gone before they can even look out the window. I no longer care if Heero's following me. Right now, I just need to get out, no matter what the cost.
By the time I reach the heart of downtown I'm freezing and worried again about being followed. My moments of brave stupidity never did last long. Shutting the bike off in the back of some posh club I've never been inside, and have no intention of going into, I use the shadows to make it unseen to the other side of the street. A few guys leer at me and I leer back. They don't try to make good on their suggestions though and I keep going, occasionally ducking back into the shadows to survey the streets for signs of Heero or the others. I feel oddly let down when I don't see any of them. Apparently they've already forgotten about me.
Finally, my destination – Club Zero. Not too rich, but classy all the same. I like this place. It has great people and good music. The interior screams sex, and who am I to deny? It's what I came here for anyways. I give the bartender a few credits and order a shot of straight whiskey. The lingering burn in my throat is enough to get me out onto the dance floor, immediately grinding against an older boy in leather pants. Throwing my arms over my head and swaying my hips to the beat I can practically feel as it pulses around me, I am gratified to see that I have caught the attention of several people. I pick my prey carefully. He looks too high to be a threat, but danger shines in his eyes. He looks me over with blatant innuendo, his hands sliding down to cup my ass as we dance together. I've always liked a little danger with my sex, and as I fully intend to end this night against a wall or bathroom stall with someone's cock buried in my ass, I don't mind his dominant attitude at all. I wind up plastered against him as we move to the trance music pouring out of speakers above us. His grip is too tight, and it hurts, but I like that too.
When we make our way off the dance floor, I am pinned against a table for a searing kiss, the scant amount of clothes between our bodies making both of our needs evident. "Not here," I pant harshly, pushing him up.
He grabs hold of my wrist and I am practically dragged to the men's bathroom. Again, he slams me against the nearest wall, ignoring the only other occupant in the room as he gropes me, reaching quickly to pull the zipper down the front of my pants. I press my lips to this throat, kissing his adam's-apple and eagerly biting his exposed collarbone, trying to leave a mark there, so he might remember me tomorrow morning. He hisses slightly and shoves his hand down my pants. The other one grips my side painfully. I buck against his fingers, moaning like a whore as my lips find his nipple, sucking hard.
A second later he pulls me up, still fondling me, and throws me against the white sink. I scrabble for purchase on the slick surface. Glancing up at my reflection, I meet his gaze in the mirror and reach to push my pants farther down my hips. "Fuck me?" I ask in my sweetest, most whisper-raw voice. He laughs, grinding his erection into my ass.
I pull his fingers to my mouth, coating them in saliva and writhing as he pushes two in at once. It hurts a bit and I love it, crying out softly. He doesn't bother with a third finger, guiding his erection into place, beginning to push. I know I'm probably going to tear, and I relish the thought rather than fear it. "Yes! Please, now," I plead, moving my body backwards, forcing him inside me. It is all the encouragement he needs, and suddenly he slams the rest of the way inside me, grabbing my long hair and pulling sharply. The pain is beautiful and I scream as I ride each wave of ecstasy. He goes deeper and more brutal with each thrust, but it's not quite enough to make me lose it. I hold onto the sink I am bent over, watching him fuck me in the mirror. It strikes me that I don't even care if we're seen. I've done this so many times that it wouldn't bother me if Sister Helen walked in on us. What a though to have during sex.
"Harder," I scream, wanting to feel more. He hits that spot and I'm seeing stars, the perfect mix of intense pain and pleasure achieved. He wraps his fingers around my erection and I know he's about to lose it. When he does, I finally let go as well, following him into bliss, the force of orgasm letting me drift for those few precious seconds.
He pulls out, alcohol-tinged breath dancing on my shoulder and I want to feel him again and again and again. I've always loved it when they play rough with me.
He zips himself up and I do the same, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. My makeup is smeared and I fix it, watching our figures in the glass as he leaves the bathroom without looking back.
The sting of rejection sets in, and I realize for the millionth time that I am worth nothing to these people who use me, and who I use in turn. I will never be worth anything to anyone. I stretch, shaking the thoughts out of my head and press fingers against my hips where bruises are already starting to make themselves known.
I almost wish Heero could see me like this; looking debauched and yet still undeniably innocent. I have that effect on people. It makes them want to break me. I like being broken. I'm addicted to bleeding.
The ride home is uneventful and I still see no sign of Heero or the others. So naturally, I wasn't expecting Heero to be awake at two-thirty in the morning, but I should have known better.
"You smell like sex and alcohol," he says calmly as I climb in the window to my room.
"Last I checked, your room was three doors to the left." I reply with equal bluntness. That's the beauty of being me. Nothing can faze me for long.
"Duo, I thought I made it clear that you weren't to leave this house." He practically growls.
"And you actually thought I'd listen to you? Who's the crazy one now?"
Not in the least bit self-conscious (what's left to be self-conscious about?) I lift the tank-top over my head, cursing as an earring gets stuck in the mesh. The pants are next, and I don't hesitate to slide out of them completely, left stark naked in the middle of my room. He is watching me from the shadows, taking in the bruises and cuts as I stand there.
"What were you doing out there?" he gestures out my window, and his stare is starting to unnerve me.
I turn, halfway through pulling out my earrings. "I thought that was obvious."
"Hn."
"Really now Heero, even you're not that stupid. Maybe I just have to show you…" I sway my hips and raise my eyebrows. He looks disgusted.
"Hn." He's purposefully not responding now.
"Fuck you." I say it lightly, but behind that I'm deadly serious.
"Go take a shower," the dismissal in his voice stings. I hate the way his lip curls in disdain as he looks me over. I hate that he's right to be contemptuous of me.
"Look, if you must know what I was doing, I went to a dance club, I let some guy on heroin fuck me in the men's toilet and then I came back here." I'm yelling at the end of my statement, just because I can, and he can't do anything about it.
"You let some guy you didn't even know fuck you in the bathroom of some sleazy club?" Heero repeats bluntly, anger warring with disbelief on his face.
"And I liked it." I fill in helpfully, smirking. "He was a good lay. Too bad the heroin's going to kill him sooner or later." I know I sound cold, and it makes me proud. You can only deal out so much death before you become numb to it.
"Damn it, Duo, do you think this is all about you?"
I gape at him, not sure what to say. Of course it's all about me. They made it about me.
"How much did he pay you?" Heero asks coldly.
I feel my back stiffen. It hurts. It hurts to realize that I've been reduced to something so low in his eyes. I try to hide my reaction, but he sees it anyways. I still can't say anything.
"Come on Duo, if you like it so much, why not tell me more? Was he the only one you seduced with your sweet ass, or did you let the whole club have their way with you?" he's being cruel now, something glittering in his eyes.
I see an opening now, a way to snatch back the upper hand, and I'm more than willing to take it.
"Don't be jealous Heero, I saved plenty for you." I slide my naked body against his, pretending not to see the way he's looking at me; like I'm below dirt.
"Get away from me." He hisses.
I don't move, except to slide my hand down his front, massaging the bulge I find there. "Looks like someone's interested."
"Get off of me, you slut!" he yells, throwing me against the bed.
I laugh. I don't know why, but I laugh. I can see him staring at me with a sort of fascinated horror, but I don't care.
I should feel like I've won, making him lose it like that, but I just feel sick.
"If you touch me again, I will break every bone in your hand," he says, staring down on me as the laughter fades from my lips. I can tell he's serious.
"But Heero, I was only kidding." I whine, still playing my part.
He sneers, and it makes me feel dirty.
"Just go take a shower, Duo."
I don't move for a very long time after he is gone. The tears sting in my eyes, but I know I can't cry.
When I do get up, it's only to retrieve the packet of white powder from the inside of my discarded pants. Grasping my prize, I flop back on the bed, still naked, and prepare to let it all go.