A/N: Okay, this is a fill in response to BPotD #446 by Anonymous which reads: Blaine was raped, but the reason he doesn't tell anyone or lies about it is because he thinks nobody will believe him. People already don't believe girls most of the time, why would they believe a gay boy was raped by another gay boy? Especially since getting someone to believe him would probably entail showing his emotions about it, and he just wants to forget. Eventually somebody (HIS DAD! Kurt! Sebastian!) finds out that he's visiting an online support group/forum/whatever for survivors.

TW: this story deals with the issue of sexual abuse, depression, post-traumatic stress, suicidal ideations and self-harm. In short, this Blangsty piece of work deals with a lot of shit. If this is in anyway bothersome or triggering for you, I am advising you to take a step back now. There are better stories out there.

BLAM!

Silent Screams

Post by ugly_tween 6/10/2013 1:44am

I really should try and sleep. But I cannot stop myself from shaking. I had a nightmare about Matthew again. It's been the second time this week. I'm not even sure what triggered it this time. But these dreams really, really have to stop. I feel like a fucking mess right now. I can literally see my self falling apart. The cuts on my thighs are burning, but I can't make myself stop. The anxiety, the fear, I can't help but feel like I'm gong to explode. This is too much, too fucking much. The rape happened two years ago, yet the dreams make it seem like it happened yesterday. It feels too fucking real.

The hard part is that no one knows. Can you imagine having to walk through a hall full of people who have no idea you're insides are being torn apart? And that you can't find the courage in you to actually reach out and ask for a simple hug? Because that's how I'm living through every fucking day right now. Most especially over the past week. This past, awfully long week. It started last Monday, when I had a very detailed dream of that pig. I never even realized I still had such memory of that night, but I did. And that night, I remembered. How I wish I didn't, but I did. Now the memory is stuck and it keeps replaying, over and over until at one point, it will probably drive me insane.

So, this afternoon, I actually had to sit through two hours of glee and pretend to listen when everything was just a blur. I feel like I have not slept in days, I couldn't keep any of my food down, I'm cold but I'm sweating like a pig, I shiver even when it's warm and when I close my eyes, I see HIM.

I'm exhausted, too exhausted actually. I'm feeling very tempted to just give everything up. I need some kind of relief. Any kind of relief. The full bottle of aspirin is still hidden deep in my closet. "Sixty aspirin pills to die." - I keep telling myself. Sixty pills and I will be able to breath again. I can be free. But as tempting as that seems, I still am just a fucking coward. I can't even free myself out of this fucking pit.

I hate the thought that in a few hours, I have to drag myself out of bed and pretend that I've had an awesome night. I can't pretend to be sick again, besides, it's not like I get rest from lying on my bed alone anyway.

However, I really have to try and get some sleep. Or I'd probably end up passing out in school tomorrow. I can't be any more suspicious that I am now. Sam has seen me teary eyed the other day. The contacts excuse will probably not work this time.

So, goodnight, and wish me luck.

XxB

That morning, I got out of bed half an hour before my alarm went off. My surroundings swirled a bit as I stood up probably because of exhaustion. But I decided to shake it off and walked to the bathroom. I turned the water full blast and cold just to numb myself. But despite that, I couldn't help the tears that threatened to fall. I cried a bit and felt the automatic need to calm myself down. I studied my already too wounded thighs and decided I can't cut them more than I've already had. I raised a hand to wipe some of my tears and a glimpse of my wrist gave me the solution. I have never cut my wrists before. Simply because it was too obvious; but my god, it was beautiful. I closed my eyes to feel the soft tickle of the blood running down my arm and the scene it created as it hit the bathroom floor. The effect was immediate as whatever pain it was that was holding me, slowly went away. The serenity of this is too good to be true, or right for that matter. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I never really cut in an attempt to kill myself. I just needed some sort of release. I was never one for words, or hugs, or counseling. I like taking matters into my own hands. This is taking matters into my own hands.

It took me another ten minutes to finally make it stop bleeding and another half an hour to get dressed in a grey cardigan, a white polo and a pair of tight pants. I stared at the mirror and thought about how I've failed myself by allowing everything to get so out of control. I closed my eyes tightly as I felt a new set of tears start forming at back of my lids again. Luckily, mom called from downstairs saying that I was going to be late and so I sucked in a deep breath and walked out of my room with a fake smile.

At school, I chose to avoid everybody in every class. I tried to pretend to be listening to the lectures, ran out right after the bell and hid in the library for free period. Feeling tempted, I walked over to one of the library computers and accessed my forum account- curious as to if somebody replied. I browsed through my post and immediately felt better as I read through a couple of comforting messages from strangers who at least understood what I was going through. I glanced at my watch and realized that I have about five minutes to get to my next class and so I quickly scanned the rest of the posts and clicked on "log-out." The page turned blank for a while and I impatiently tapped on the desk as I waited. A few more seconds passed and the page displayed a server failure message. Just about the same time, the bell rang. I decided to try again and clicked refresh a couple of times but the same message appeared. Panicking, I groaned loudly, weighing my options. In the end, I knew I can't be tardy again and that if I exited the window, no one would actually be able to know. So, I clicked on the little X icon and the window before I stood up to grab on my stuff and go. Just as I stepped out of the library, I saw Sam and a couple of other students walking inside for their free period.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully much to my relief. Just an hour of student council meeting now and then I can finally go home. When I arrived at the office, only Sam was there as the rest of the group were probably late, as usual. By instinct, I knew, from the time I stepped in that something was off. But I decided not to say a word. Instead, I grabbed on my usual seat across Sam and sat down. Sam was looking at something in between his clasped hands and remained silent. I remained quiet too. A few minutes later, with the rest of the council still not there, I watched Sam from the corner of my eye, take a deep sigh before he raised his head to look at me.

He slid his hand across the table to hand me a familiar silver Parker pen which I soon realized was mine.

"You left that by the computer, dude."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I used it to take some notes and probably forgot. Thank you."

Sam was about to say something else, but the rest of the council arrived and whatever it was, he never had the chance to tell me anything for the rest of the meeting.

I arrived home at around eight that night. The meeting lasted longer than expected but a part of me was grateful for the couple of hours that I had to think of something else other that how my fucked up head keeps getting even more fucked by the second. The lights were on and there was food on the table but my mom was nowhere to be found. I knew my dad was out of the country for a couple more days, but my mom should be home. Deciding to go drop my stuff in my room before I resume looking for her, I took the stairs up and was surprised to see my mother on her knees in front of my closet. Panic quickly rose from my gut as I saw on her hand my supposedly well hidden pill bottle and I felt trapped on my spot. The air suddenly stopped entering my lungs and my tongue felt as thick as rubber. She must have felt my presence because she stopped rummaging through the rest of my things and turned to look at me with teary eyes.

"Blaine, baby. Oh my god, I never knew!"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about, mom." My denial was quick, automatic. But inside, I could literally see my world crashing down.

"Sam called. He told me about this website. I saw your posts. You should have come to me!"

I opened my mouth to deny what's so obvious once again, but nothing came out. Instead, I lowered my hand to my jeans pocket and felt for my car keys. Of course they were there, because I always forget to drop them by the bowl. I never knew it would come in handy. But at this moment, it is. My mom dropped both hands to the floor to push herself up. She was going to touch me. I freaked out.

I took a step backward.

Then another.

My mom was on her feet and is about to walk towards me.

My panic grew impossibly bigger.

So, I ran.

I heard my mom cry my name from inside my room but I ignored her. I took the stairs two steps at a time and was out the front door in seconds. I rode my car and drove away aimlessly as fast as I could.

I never realized where I was going until I got there. It was a small, old style bungalow with a messy lawn and inside I could hear a couple of kids speaking at the same time. It was Sam's place. I walked to the front door, like some higher power was controlling me to do so and I pressed on the bell. I was numb and cold. My head was pounding and I couldn't seem to make a single coherent thought. Sam's voice called out from inside and a couple more seconds later, he opened the door. The moment I saw the mop of blond hair on top of his head, I felt my anger explode. I balled my right hand into a tight fist, lunged at him and punched his square on the jaw. There was a moment of shock in his eyes but by the time I raised my left hand to do a follow-up he already had his hand ready catch it. He grabbed at my balled fist and used it as leverage to pull me against his body and into a hug. Suddenly, my body felt too heavy for me to keep upright. I collapsed against his frame and cried.

A lot.

Like my whole life depended on it.

I don't know how Sam managed it, but by the time I opened my eyes, we were on the couch.

"I'm so sorry." He said, avoiding my gaze.

"I saw your post. At first I didn't want to believe it was you. But it made sense. You were acting weird all week. You have crying spells. You're a bit too spaced out. You weren't yourself at all. It was not too hard to put things together. But I had no idea how to approach you. I mean, I tried. Before the meeting? But I just couldn't."

I felt fresh tears start to fall on my cheeks but I couldn't think of anything to say.

"You should have told someone. Anyone."

"No one would have believed me, Sam."

"I would." He said sternly.

"I didn't trust you. Hell, I couldn't trust anyone! A few months prior to t-that incident, I got beaten up for bringing another gay kid to a stupid dance. I felt like the whole world was against me."

"Besides, it was my fault, for being so stupid and careless, for trusting him, for agreeing to a fucking drink."

Now that my walls have been shattered open, there was just no way I could keep my emotions in.

"He was the only other out gay at our school. But he was untouchable. He ruled our little fucking world! One night, at a football party, he complimented me. He told me how brave I was and I got flattered. He offered me a drink and everything went fuzzy."

Sam's jaw was starting to turn into a sickening shade of purple. This is one of those days when I wished I never owned such a killer hook. He looked at me sympathetically, but he said nothing.

"He brought me to a room. H-he was trying to remove my clothes. I said no. God, I swear, I said no! But I couldn't find the strength to stop him. My arms felt like they were made of Jell-O. My vision was so blurry. I suppose I blacked out. I woke up with a splitting headache and a sore ass. Matthew said I was awesome and I just wanted to kill him right then."

"He's an asshole Blaine. Forgive me for saying this but you should have. You know? Killed him."

"He was staring at me like I was some piece of meat. I've never felt dirtier in my life."

"What he did was wrong. He took advantage of you. You said no, he insisted." Sam took my hand and clasped it around his own. The warmth was comforting. He looked at me and urged me to continue.

"He raped me."

"Yes. Yes, he did, Blaine. And he should pay for it."

"I.. I made the mistake of letting him do it Sam."

"No. Don't do that okay? It's not your fault! You were drugged. You couldn't fight for yourself. You trusted him and he broke it. You did nothing wrong!"

"How could one gay kid first get beaten senseless then after a few months get raped? God must really hate me."

"To be honest, I don't know. But this isn't a battle you should have tried fighting on your own, Blaine."

I laughed. Like I haven't figured that out.

"Let me in. Let us in. Let us help you, okay?"

My mind was reluctant, but a bigger part of me was relieved. So I gave him a nod.

"I can't even begin to describe to you how long I've been waiting for someone to say that."

-fin-