Summary: A dark secret sparks friendship between two unlikely people.
Disclaimer: Don't own Degrassi. Or the Breakfast Club. 'Nuff said.
Author's Note: I've had this idea in my head for quite a while, but I wasn't going to start writing it until after I'd finished Broken Glass. After seeing the season 11 preview, though… I decided to get a head start.
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And I Must Scream
Violate Me
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"Naked blonde walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm, and a two-foot salami under the other. The bartender says, 'I guess you won't be needing a drink.' Naked lady says — OH, SHIT!"
Bianca DeSousa tore her lips away from her boyfriend's for a split second to glance over at the TV.
They had put in the Breakfast Club about an hour ago, but had long since lost interest once Drew's lips sought hers out in the Torres' dimly-lit living room, not even fifteen minutes into it. She let out a short laugh and turned back to face Drew, running her manicured nails through his spiked hair while her free hand stroked his chest through his shirt. As it slid lower, lingering dangerously close to his belt buckle, she watched his adam's apple bob in anticipation.
She smirked, leaning in so that her lips ghosted over his ear. "Don't get too excited, Torres. I haven't even started yet."
Just as her fingertips grazed his zipper, however, Bianca heard someone clear their throat.
"Ahem."
She sprung away from Drew, ending up on the opposite end of the couch while Drew grabbed the nearest pillow and held it on his lap to cover his… problem. Peering up, they found Mrs. Torres looming over them, her arms crossed and lips pursed, looking none too pleased. Disapproval was etched across her face, but she didn't launch into a lecture as they had expected.
"Bianca," she said tightly, no longer looking at her own son but rather, focusing her hard gaze on his girlfriend, "it's getting late. I think it's time for you to go home, before your parents start to worry. Tomorrow's a school day."
Bianca wasn't stupid. Mrs. Torres was just trying to get rid of her. Drew had reassured her, when she first met his family (save for his brother, who she already knew and wasn't exactly on good terms with, but they mostly ignored each other for Drew's sake) that it was nothing personal, and that his mother simply didn't approve of any of the girls he'd ever dated.
Forcing a smile of her own, Bianca nodded and got up.
"Yeah, I should probably leave now… it's getting pretty late," she said, grabbing her purse and her sweater. "I'll see you at school." With that, she gave Drew one last kiss on the lips before darting past Mrs. Torres — who was, no doubt, going to give her son a piece of her mind as soon as Bianca was gone — and out the door.
.
.
.
The Toronto air was crisp that evening.
Bianca shivered as she made her way down the street, rubbing her arms to try to make herself warmer. She wish she'd worn a heavier jacket, or at least brought her car, but the weather had been so nice earlier that day. As luck would have it, though, the temperature just had to drop on the one night she had to walk home. She rolled her eyes, glaring up at the darkening sky, and clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering.
She came to a halt once she reached the intersection, waiting for the light to turn so she could walk. As she stood there, tapping her foot impatiently, she began to glance around. The Dot was just down the road, but they were probably getting ready to close for the night. She looked back at the light, which still hadn't changed, and let out a frustrated growl.
"Fuck it," she muttered, and with that she spun around and made a left.
She'd get home faster taking a short cut.
A few minutes later, Bianca neared a familiar alley and turned right. She didn't usually make it a habit of taking this route, but it was too fucking cold outside and she just really wanted to get home.
As she ventured through the dark alley, a whistle sounded from behind her, followed by a smug, "Hey, sexy!"
Bianca promptly rolled her eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd been whistled at, and it wouldn't be the last. Ignoring the source of the voice, she continued walking. She was used to scumbags hitting on her. Months ago, she would've played along and flirted back, and made them think they had a chance with her — but that was before she had a boyfriend. A real boyfriend.
She could hear a pair of footsteps closing in, and quickened her pace, growing more and more annoyed. She wasn't in the mood deal with some loser in an alley.
"Bitch, I'm talking to you!"
"What did you just call me?"
Against her better judgement, Bianca whipped around and glared venomously at the asshole who had been following her. He bore resemblance to some of the guys she used to chill with at the Ravine, with greasy blond hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in a while, and clothes that reeked. He had to be a couple of years older than her — possibly in his early twenties or so. She couldn't tell if he was homeless of if he'd just rolled out of bed that day and grabbed whatever was off the floor.
She scoffed, about to turn away from him and continue on her way, when the man's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
"Hey!" She snarled, trying to pry her wrist out of his grip. "Let go of me, asshole!"
The man's lips curved, his hold tightening. Without warning, Bianca found herself thrown against a brick wall while the man stood before her, licking his lips and eyeing her hungrily.
"H-hey!" Panic rose in her voice when the man grabbed the front of her jacket and unzipped it so fast that she barely had time to react before his hand was up her shirt. She shrieked, struggling to get his hand out. "Stop it! Are you listening to me? I said stop!"
When the man didn't stop, Bianca switched tactics. While he was busy groping her, she positioned her knee right between his legs, and brought it up — hard.
The man tore his hand away, doubling over in agony. Bianca pushed him away, and tried to make a run for it — she could see a clearing just ahead, and traffic.
Before she could reach the end of the alley, however, the man managed to catch up with her, grabbing the back of her jacket and bringing her to an abrupt halt.
"You little bitch!" He snarled, before his fist collided with the side of her head.
The blow was so hard that it knocked her to the ground. Disoriented, she tried to sit up, but a sudden weight held her down. The man pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while he unfastened his pants with the other. Bianca squirmed relentlessly under him, trying desperately to get him off, but he was heavier than he looked, holding her down effortlessly.
"Stop it! Please!" She begged, as a foreign sensation began to coil around her — fear. She thrashed beneath him and punched his chest over and over again, but it didn't even faze him.
"You're nothing but a slut," the man sneered, tearing her fishnet stockings and forcing her legs apart, "A dirty whore who needs to learn some fucking respect." Pushing her underwear to the side, he pressed himself against her and leaned in so that his mouth was next to her ear, "And I'm gonna teach you that respect."
With that, he thrust into her.
A blood-curdling scream rippled from the back of Bianca's throat and echoed throughout the alley as a searing pain engulfed her. Her screams were soon be muffled by her assailant's hand, and tears burned her eyes. Her body grew weaker, and after a few minutes, she stopped fighting altogether. As the man had his way with her, Bianca turned her head to stare out at the cars in the distance, and waited for it to be over.
.
.
.
She didn't know how much time had passed.
It felt like it had been hours.
Her whole body ached as she stumbled into her house, barefoot and out of breath from running. Dropping her heels onto the floor, she made her way through the kitchen. From the corner of her eye, she could see the faint glow of the TV screen in the living room, and her aunt passed out on the couch. Just as she reached the stairs, however, the floorboard squeaked under her weight, and her aunt let out a gasp and shot up.
"Bianca, is that you?"
"… yeah," Bianca answered, trying to keep her voice even. Her throat was still raw from screaming.
"It's almost midnight! Where the hell have you been?" Her aunt snapped. "You better not be drunk again!"
"I was at my boyfriend's," Bianca answered monotonously, staring off to the side. "We fell asleep watching a movie."
She heard her aunt snort — a clear indication that she didn't believe her. Without waiting to be chewed out, Bianca turned on her heel and went upstairs. When she was in the safety of her bedroom, she closed the door and locked it, before pressing her back against it and sinking to the floor.
Drawing her knees to her chest, Bianca hid her tear-streaked face and, while the rest of Toronto turned in for the night, squeezed her eyes shut and wept quietly.
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… well? How was it? Good? Bad? So-so?
I've never written a rape scene, and I didn't want it to be too graphic because I want to keep this fic at a T rating.
Anyway… I hope you guys enjoy so far. I probably won't be able to update this very frequently until I finish "Broken Glass" though. Just a heads up.
Please REVIEW and let me know what you think!