This was written as a short yet slightly freaky introduction into writing fanfiction. I was listening to the 'Spring Awakening' soundtrack and I couldn't sleep until I got this down. This is pretty freakin' dark. I blame the song (which I suggest you listen to while reading this) 'The Dark I Know Well'.
I own nothing. This is unbeta-ed. Warning – Sexual Abuse (not too graphic, but still pretty horrible)
I don't scream, though I know it's wrong. I just play along. I lie there and breathe, lie there and breathe.
There was no point in hiding. He knew from experience that being found was inevitable- whether it be during an innocent game of hide and seek with sister, or during the tearful chase he found himself partaking in for the third time.
There would only ever be three times- not that he would remember, not consciously anyway.
His small body trembled in fear and horror as he heard footsteps approach the cupboard he had squeezed himself into. The thirteen year old bit onto his fist in a desperate attempt to quench down the sobs that threatened to pull themselves from his throat.
"Come on now and stop with this ridiculous hiding. It's time for a bedtime story. I thought you liked stories?" The voice wasn't threatening. In fact, it was almost soothing. However, he now knew better than to trust the man attempting to coax him out of his safe place. He closed his eyes and prayed to anyone that would listen, 'Please don't let him find me'. The teen knew no one would listen. No one would help him, not now, not ever. No one could.
His whimper sounded in sync with the creaking of the worn cupboard door as it was gently pulled open.
"There you are beautiful. Your mom wouldn't have been too pleased had I lost you," the man had the gall to chuckle. His looks matched his voice- not threatening in the least. Well built yet not particularly strong looking, tall but not so much that he towered over anyone. His features weren't anything special and the short grey hair made him appear totally harmless. The jeans and light brown sweater only helped to portray the façade the man was creating. The only thing that gave him away were the pale green eyes that shone with something unreadable- something truly despicable. That and the tell-tale stench of alcohol.
"Why do you hide from me? You never used to," the man reached out and the teen involuntarily flinched at the hard grasp that betrayed the soft tones, "Let's get you out of there and ready for bed."
The young man allowed himself to be pulled from the cupboard and lead into the bathroom. The white walls of the room were comforting, he felt as if the house would be able to protect him if the man went too far. He would be fine, as long as the lights were on nothing would touch him- especially not him.
The much older man left the room briefly and the teen allowed himself and few moments to breathe. The only sounds he could hear were the rumbling of the heater turning on and his gasping yet slow breaths. His reprieve did not last long. Plaid pyjamas were thrust into his arms.
"Pop those on and brush your teeth."
Obedience would please the predator and leave less room for punishment- it was worth it. The boy felt piercing eyes gazing at him as he turned to brush his teeth. His hands were shaking but he somehow managed to make the toothpaste spread across the toothbrush without spilling everywhere. He chanced a glimpse at the mirror and saw the man leer at him openly. The teen let out a shaky sigh and didn't let his gaze stray from his own mouth from that point onwards.
There is only so long a person can spend brushing their teeth. Despite this fact, the teen spent as long as he possibly could firmly pressing the bristles against his teeth and then his gums. The metallic tang let him know that he had pressed too hard for too long, but he didn't care. Bleeding gums were the least of his problems.
The brush was roughly pulled from his hands and the boy looked up to find the man glaring down at him, "That's enough of that. Get changed."
The man didn't leave the room as the teen began to pull off his t-shirt. He hadn't really expected him too. He could still feel the man's intense gaze as he stripped off. He pulled the plaid pyjamas on, but they felt more like wrapping paper than a form of protection. Plaid wrapping paper that the teen knew the man was itching to rip back off him. He shuddered as he slowly did up the buttons leading up his chest. The red plaid was a stark contrast to his skin and not for the first time that evening, the teen wished that his parents were there to protect him. He hated date night.
"So beautiful." The comment was whispered but the teen still heard it. He knew he was good looking, but he still couldn't comprehend why the hell this was happening to him. Beauty seemed to be more of a curse than a gift.
As soon as the flimsy articles of clothing were on his body, the boy was pulled into his bedroom. Artwork adorned the walls and numerous school trophies. No matter how much he tried, however, the boy could not distract himself by staring at them as he was lead to his bed. The man left his side and turned off the main light, the teen immediately turned on his bedside lamp.
"Do you want a story then?" the boy shook his head no, still not saying a word to the hated man that was quickly dropping his façade. He got into bed and pulled the blankets up to his neck. The despair that had embedded itself into his being escalated as the man made no move to leave his bedroom.
"Are you not going to give me a kiss goodnight?" This is were it all began, the teen knew. The man leaned forward and then teen made to quickly peck his cheek. His face was intercepted and turned by rough hands as the man pressed his lips to the teens unwilling mouth. The boy was of high intelligence and by no means naive, he knew kisses goodnight between adults and minors were not supposed to include tongue. It was illegal, immoral, plain fucking wrong. He barely resisted the urge to bite the tongue that was invading his mouth as anger swelled and mixed with his fear.
The man pulled back and grinned. He pulled the covers back and climbed into bed next to the shaking teen. He traced a finger down the delicate looking cheek of the boy next to him.
"It's the lords fault for making you so fucking beautiful. He won't mind, in fact, I would suppose he would encourage this. Why else create something so gorgeous?"
The teen could no longer stay silent, "You are a sick bastard!" He wasn't going to take this lying down- not this time. He wasn't some weak little child who needed his parents to save him from his abusive uncle. He tried to throw himself out of the bed but he was grabbed back and pulled into his uncle's arms. The struggling teen kicked out at his attacker, but he was easily pinned down. He tried screaming, but he was silenced by a sharp slap to the cheek.
He stopped his struggling as his cheek burned in pain. What had he been thinking, fighting back like that? He had seen enough lifetime movies to know the inevitable pain that came with rebellion.
"Stupid little boy. So pretty yet so dumb, just like your mother. Now I suggest you shut the fuck up and lie still, or I will make this a hell a lot worse for you than it has to be."
The teen lay there, no longer screaming, no longer struggling. The only movement he allowed was the thundering beat of his heart and the staccato breaths that escaped from his lungs.
His uncle was hard. He felt it pressed against his thigh. Nausea pulsed throughout his body. He had once trusted this man. His parents close friend that he called his uncle. How fucking naive of him. The man had always shown a strange interest towards him- always giving him extra gifts and making his sister jealous. Fucking naivety would be the death of him.
Calloused hands caressed soft skin reverently, stroking the unmoving body beneath.
Chapped lips were pressed to a pale neck as the plaid pyjama shirt was practically ripped from the body wearing it.
Hands moved to the pale boyish chest and roughly pinched the pink nipples that looked so pretty against the white skin.
Lips moved to take the place of the hands as they moved to turn off the lamp, the one piece of hope the teen had left.
As the teen felt himself be turned over and his trousers removed, tears ran like rain down his face, but he played along and remained silent.
"It's just you and me beautiful."
Something hard was pressed against the entrance to his ass, he barely noticed. He allowed himself to drift away. To forget. Well, he could forget, until his body became a lightning rod for pain...
–
"NOOO! Shit! Please stop! Oh God! Please! I don't want this!"
"Wake up! Justin! It's okay. You were just dreaming!" Brian's voice washed over Justin like a wave calm. Strong arms wrapped around his shaking form and Justin, as always, drew strength from his partners embrace.
"Bri?"
"Yeah. You're okay Sunshine. It was all just a dream." Even Brian's voice sounded tired. Justin felt a pang of guilt for waking him up in the middle of the night once again with a nightmare. He made no attempt of moving out of the embrace however, not when Brian was willing to hold him without any of the put on reluctance.
The dream had really shaken him up. All he could remember from it was darkness.
"Was it the prom again?" Brian questioned as he pushed some of the silky blonde hair off of Justin's forehead.
"No. I don't think so. I have no idea what it was about really. I really can't remember."
"Just relax and go back to sleep Sunshine." Brian lay down and lowered Justin so that his head was resting on his chest. No matter how he tried, Justin couldn't get back to sleep.
He just had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important.
Something damaging.
There's a part I can't tell, about the dark I know well.