DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these people. Or Life with Derek. I own the plot and I wish I could own Michael Seater 3. Go Canada! You never fail to put hotties on your TV Shows.
HURT YOU
Don't
say you just wanna go!
Don't you know you're on your own?
Don't
want hurt you
don't want hurt you
try not to mess with your
feelings
it's just a matter of trust, for us, for lust
Sam could not remember when he'd ever felt this way before. He could do whatever he wanted with his best friend now that he'd had enough alcohol to excuse for accidental words and phrases. He would never have to make up for anything he said… since he hoped that he would forget anyway. Derek had made his way over to Sam's house with a case of beer… and they'd just finished it.
Derek laughed hysterically at a joke that neither of them remembers telling. He fell backwards onto Sam's bed. He closed his eyes and stopped laughing, "I feel sick, I think." The laughter continued and Sam fell to the floor.
"Me, too." He crawled over to his door and locked it. He leaned against the wooden solid that prevented anyone from walking in on him and his drunken friend. On hands and knees he found his way to his bed, which he hit head on before rolling onto his back, hands to his forehead.
The brown-haired boy rolled to see his friend on the floor, "Nice going." Sam slurred some curses and used his hands to lift himself up into a sitting position. Before he could fully reach an upright position, he found Derek's face inches from his own.
"I have to say something," started Sam. He'd been waiting for the perfect moment, but now seemed to be ideal. They were both piss-drunk, and they'd probably never remember any of this anyway. Blonde hair waved over Derek's eyes as Sam spoke, blowing the hair towards him. Derek was afraid, for a moment, of what Sam would say, but then he realized he was too drunk to care. "I think I like you, Derek."
Words like a ton of bricks. Derek didn't move, because he'd risk having to see the alcohol he'd consumed earlier, only it would not taste as great, and it would be all over Sam's bed. Sam. "What?" Derek finally responded, not so sure if he'd heard correctly.
Sam was serious all of a sudden, not that he was joking to begin with, but only now could Derek see the fear of rejection painted all over his eyes. Lips met with lips and left both speechless. Neither pulled away, but only one thought this was right. Finally, Derek reacted.
"Whoa… wait a minute, Sam." The words were whispered and Derek turned away. Sam couldn't see how this could end well. "That's not cool, man." Derek sat up and started to shake his head, this feeling rushing over him. His eyes were still open, but from this moment on he would not remember anything. He could move without realizing the consequences. He had no choice but to act and react on auto-pilot.
Only the next morning would he realize what he'd done. Only then would he find out what Sam had done to him. He woke up with a pain in his abdomen that felt like someone had punched him a thousand times, and this feeling in his stomach that he'd be sick. His heart felt broken, too.
It probably didn't help, too, that he was still in Sam's room, wearing nothing but Sam's sheets, blood soaked into the mattress and he found the salty taste of tears on his lips. He couldn't just wait for Sam to return from wherever he'd gone. What if someone else was to walk in?
Before Derek could finish putting on his jeans, Sam entered. Derek stood up and threw Sam against his door, "What did you do to me!" His voice wasn't angry. He was petrified. He had no recollection of the previous night's events. But he was in so much pain that he could only expect that it wasn't anything good.
Sam was fully clothed, Derek noticed, and he wasn't smiling. He was just as scared as Derek was, "I don't know! Okay, I don't remember!" Derek thrust Sam against the door once more before he walked backwards and tripped over his own shoe, which he didn't remember taking off in the first place, and his shirt and onto Sam's bed. This is when his hand slipped into the pool of dry blood.
Derek felt it. The rock in his throat. It moved so quickly that Derek had no time to move. The remains of the night before found their way to Sam's waste basket, which was placed near the foot of his bed, and where Derek found a used condom. The only thought, which scared Derek to be relieved by, that raced through Derek's mind was 'Thank God he used a condom'. Another stone.
Tears streamed down his face. No sounds behind it. Just tears. Sam walked over and sat next to Derek, who flinched at the weight shifting on the bed. As soon as Sam's warm hands rest onto Derek's clammy hands, Derek started remember certain things.
Scary things. Derek turned back to the blood. His arms wrapped around himself as he realized that he felt sick not only from the booze, not only from blacking out, and not only because he had fought Sam to keep his jeans on… but because Sam had forced him to have sex with him. Unwanted sex. Rape.
Derek was afraid now. Not only was he cold inside. Not only was a throbbing pain now coming from his lower back and even lower than that. But now he was a victim of something that he'd never imagined he could fall victim too. Rape. Rape. He couldn't even think about it.
He collected his clothes, dressed, and left out of the front door. This was too much for a guy to handle. His memories were too much for him to handle. He couldn't ride his bike back home. In fact, he was still bewildered that he'd even gotten a case of beer and himself and a bike to Sam's house without killing himself or getting arrested.
There was an uncomfortable feeling in Derek's ass that felt like he'd been drained of any manliness, any dignity, any self-preservation or belief. He couldn't sit, stand, or move, but he had to do exactly that to get back home. Home. What would he tell his dad? Tell his dad? Derek didn't think so. As long as his father… as long as his family had no idea what was going on, nothing would be real. Sam would never tell anyone to risk his all-star persona, and he wouldn't be dumb enough to tell his family… or Casey. Derek would get home and say nothing. Do nothing. Well, shower.
The water beat down on his face and distracted him from the pain that surrounded every part of his body. His muscles were all pulled in the worst places, muscles he didn't realize he had. The only position he could feel safe was by attaching himself to one of the corners of the tile-walled shower. The water began to wash away the blood stains left in between his legs.
Embarrassment covered him like a body bag over, well, a body. He couldn't believe that he had done that. He assumed, though, that it was his fault. Somehow he'd asked for it. He'd let Sam do those things to him in his time of complete blankness.
Not a word did Sam say to him when he woke up. This look of shame… of guilt. But that was all. Nothing else. Bastard. The same moments seemed to recreate the evening, flooding every inch of Derek.
Derek is lying on his back, now. Something happened. Numbness in his hands and feet. But now Sam was standing up to his left, not on the bed yet… but then he climbs over Derek and kisses him again. Sam is pressed on top of him, and all Derek thinks, if he thought at all, was that it felt odd to be so close to someone without breasts.
The water dulled him for another moment. Not long enough, though. This was the worst moment… the one that made Derek want to take everything back. Derek crashed the back of his head against the wall and began to visualize.
Sam pulls Derek's shirt over his head. Derek shifts towards the wall, away from him. Away from his best friend.
Derek can't feel the pain of his memories, just see what Sam did. Soundless, painless, emotionless memories.
Derek's hands push Sam off. But Sam doesn't stop. There's one single moment where Derek really tries, but the numbness in his arms and the weakness throughout him wouldn't allow for resistance. Out of the corner of Derek's eye, a pair of pants meets the floor. Derek looks down to see that he is naked. He's naked beneath his friend and he can't move.
That's all he could remember. He was pretty sure it would come back in time, but for right now he was too broken to want to remember anything at all. A knock comes to the door and Derek jumps, slipping and falling onto his back. He winces from the pain, which hurt his already-obtained bruises and created some new ones.
Casey rapped at the door again. "Derek, what did you do?" She sounded regular. As long as he acted regular, it would've never happened. Casey repeated and Derek yelled back. He hadn't expected his yell to sound more like a cry, squeaking like he'd been in pain. Which he was.
"Nothing!" Derek cleared his throat, "Uh, nothing. Shampoo fell." Derek shook his head. He stood up and turned off the shower. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself. He opened the bathroom door and moved past Casey, "There you go, princess." The trip seemed so far to his room, his legs still aching.
Casey stepped into the steamy bathroom and closed the door. She hummed a tune to one of her favorite songs and turned on the shower. Her eyes instantly darted to the blood that flowed from the corner of the shower into a light swirl near the drain. "Ew." Casey realized that, she being the early bird, there was no chance that anyone was in before Derek. She turned off the shower and walked out into the hallway.
She walked towards Derek's room and waited before knocking on the door. The sounds she heard were not usual of the tall, dark and handsome step-brother of hers. The music was loud enough to keep people away, but not enough to cover up the sounds of crying from the other side.
Derek was clothed already, but he was too thrown by the fact that blood was still being shed. He stared at the white towel, which was drenched in new blood, and tossed it under his bed, where he would keep it until everyone was gone. Until no one was around to see him toss it. Then he could go back to regular Derek. Be a big brother to Edwin and Marti, and be mean to Casey, of course.
Casey. Did Sam do this to her? Derek couldn't fathom how much worse it was for her to have gone through this, if in fact, it had happened. Also, if it did, she was pretty good at keeping it hidden. Derek shook his head. She wasn't hiding it, he concluded. It never happened. Sam had only done this to him. Done this horrible thing to him.
Derek was crying now. The first cry where he made the noises that sounded like he was a wounded puppy, whimpering and everything. He heard Casey knock lightly on the door and Derek quickly wiped his tears and shook out of his sadness. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking and his wounds from aching, but he could lie pretty well.
"God, you're annoying, what now?" Derek yelled. Casey wouldn't bother. He probably got into a fight and got what he deserved. She huffed and turned away and walked back to her room. Only months later would she regret that thought, 'got what he deserved'.
Derek was alone. He was slowly abandoning everybody as he shut everyone out of his life. He would tell no one. He could tell no one. He couldn't even stop Sam from hurting him again and again… which he would in the end.
This is the star after dignity, and I wanted to clear up that I wasn't saying that having sex with a man had stripped him of dignity, just the idea that DEREK was raped… that took away his dignity.
A/N I dedicate this one to my teacher, Mrs. Yates. She was the worst teacher I ever had and I hated her and she made me fear teachers… but she made me write poems in the third grade and made me realize that I had a talent for writing. She died this year or last year, so as Death Cab says: "…Fear is the heart of love…"
A/N I had no idea which ending to go with: it was either the ending I went with, or I would've changed it to end with the 'got what he deserved line'. But I can't change that now, so I hope you liked it 333
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