1/24/10- I wrote and re-wrote the beginning of this chapter a billion times! I'm not sure why I wrote it this way; it's just the way it came out and I didn't feel like writing it over again. I know it doesn't match the chapter (or the story) but it's a dream/flashback, so meh. :)

I don't own.

"I hung you on a limb, made you bend over backwards on a sin. Throw it all away, wash you off in the shower. I'm gagging myself. I'm brushing out the foul taste you left in my mouth."
-The Preyingmantis by Porcelain and the Tramps

Chapter 2

You hear about it everyday on TV, on the radio, in the newspaper.

Shouting. Panic. Confusion. Uncertainty. Alarm. Fear.

Realization.

But it seems like something you read in a book; surreal, untouchable, so far away from your grasp, like it has nothing to do with you.

Appalled. Disgusted. Disturbed. Shocked. Disbelieving. Paralyzed.

Afraid.

But then he's on top of you, and reality gives you a nice, hard slap on the face.

Panting. Moaning. Roaming. Pleading. Creaking. Screaming.

Fucking.

And you think about all those stories you heard about the victims and wonder how they ever lived through it.

Hopeless. Loveless. Helpless. Worthless. Voiceless. Clothes-less.

Painful.

As much as you try to imagine that you're somewhere else, your body betrays you and you feel it all, live it all, and it's all engraved into your memory.

Hands. Lips. Eyes. Neck. Chest. Ass.

Dick.

And you feel so ashamed and humiliated and just want it all to end so badly that you resort to begging, even if you know that's exactly what he wants. Rape is not and never will be about romance; it's just a show of power, of dominance. So he revels in your pleading, and does it

Harder. Faster. Stronger. Longer. Dirtier. Scarier.

Better.

Then it starts to feel good. The pleasant warmth starts to spread from the edge of your hairline to the tips of your toes, crawling along every nerve in your body so that you feel it on every square inch of your skin. And you can't help yourself as your body reacts the way it's supposed to. You hate yourself completely and start believing him as he chants in your ear that "you want it" and "you asked for it because look at how you're reacting, you little whore!" And you feel

Ashamed. Hurt. Humiliated. Defeated. Lost. Angry.

Dead.

Your thoughts are racing but at the same time your mind is completely blank. You know this is occurring, but it's just a dream, it's a nightmare, it's a movie, it's a book, it's fake, it's real, it's happening, you're there and

Alive. Naked. Alone. Together. Bruised. Battered.

Damaged.

Everywhere he touches leaves a trail of memories and despair, and your stomach rebels and you want to puke as his lips are crushed on yours, as his hands roam freely, as he enters and exits carelessly, as he touches and kisses and hits and bites and marks and threatens and leaves you

Tainted. Shattered. Traumatized. Scared. Depressed. Broken.

Raped.

But you can't fight back because you're hurt and in shock and in pain but most importantly, he's holding the most precious thing to you hostage. He whispers in your ear in a way that would be tender if he wasn't threatening to do the exact same thing he was doing now to the only person that brought you true comfort and happiness in the world. You can't struggle or say a word of this to anyone "because your beloved Albarn will be hurt if a word escapes from your sluttish mouth." And he laughs at your pain and the cruel sound rings in your ears like a never ending echo and that - along with everything else - is etched into your memory. When he's done and you're done, the heartless bastard keeps going and you're

Tugging. Pulling. Breaking. Tearing. Marking. Dying.

Wishing

it

would

all

just

"STOP!"

x.X.x

Maka woke up to the sound of puking.

Confused, she jolted out of bed and dashed to the restroom, where the sound was coming from.

Any thoughts of sleep flew out of Maka's mind as she saw Soul hunched over the toilet bowl, throwing up the contents of his stomach. She snapped to side just as he started heaving thin air. With a grimace he flushed and stood up, heading to the sink in order to wash his teeth.

Her mind finally caught up with the current events, still feeling a little bit slow because of waking up so abruptly. She pursed her lips, ready to question him as soon as he finished washing his teeth. She KNEW something had happened while he was out. Even his soul felt distraught.

"Sorry I woke you," Soul apologized once he finished, wiping the excess water on his sleeve. His back was facing her and his head was still bowed.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to look at her. "Soul-"

"Don't touch me."

Her eyes widened, hearing the normally sarcastic and cool voice so full of fear and anxiety.

He turned slowly, vision still glued to the floor. He expected her startled gasp and the way her hands flailed uselessly, wanting to inspect the bruise on his face but also wanting to respect his wish to not be touched. Her hands finally settled on covering her mouth. He must've really looked like shit for her to be so stunned.

"What happened to you!?"

He clenched his hands into fists. "It's nothing." I'll take this as a punishment as many times as I have to as long as it means HE won't do the same thing to YOU.

"Who did this to you?" she demanded, taking a step forward. "Was it while playing basketball? Was it Black Star? Kid?"

Ruby eyes rolled towards the ceiling. As if they could hurt him like this. "No."

"Then what happened?" She took another step forward. You see, their bathroom really isn't that big to begin with, so at this point Maka was really close to him, which was making him very uncomfortable, especially considering… what happened just a few hours ago.

"Talk to me, Soul. Don't you trust me?"

Where did that come from?"Y-yes."

"Then tell me what happened."

"Don't worry about it, Maka. It doesn't concern you." And I'll make sure it never does.

"Did someone hurt you?"

"…"

"That's the reason you came home late, right?"

God, how can she be so close to figuring it out already? He felt himself begin to panic. If HE found out that Maka found out, then HE would go after her. Feeling fear rise up in his throat, he said the first thing that came to mind, which probably only made Maka more suspicious. "I'm going to bed."

Soul scrambled out of the small bathroom, mentally kicking himself for acting so out of character. Maka, being the determined girl she was, followed him, not willing to let the subject go just yet. "I bet that also links to the reason why you were throwing up just now."

Why does she have to be so keen on the details? Although, he supposed it wasn't very hard to put these pieces together. "Just drop it, will ya?" he proclaimed just as he reached his room.

"No!"

"Why?!" he shouted back, whirling around to face her.

"Because you're hurt!"

More than you can imagine. "They're just a few bruises."

"Are you kidding? That bruise on your face looks like someone punched you!"

That would be because someone did. "…"

"And I bet you're hiding more bruises under that long-sleeved shirt! Soul, just tell me what happened," she pleaded, her voice falling quiet as she grew more desperate to find out what had happened exactly to her partner.

The silver-haired weapon swallowed thickly and looked away, not being able to look at her as he blatantly lied to her face. "…I fell."

Not giving her a chance to get angry at his stupid excuse, Soul retreated into his room, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Soul!" he heard from the other side. "This conversation is not over!"

Shaking his head, he answered, "Good night!"

"Ugh!" There's a moment of silence where Soul doesn't move, listening to the soft breathing he can barely hear on the other side of his bedroom door. Then she speaks, her voice gentle and calmer than before. "Soul, if you're feeling ill, we can skip school tomorrow."

The idea of spending free time in their apartment, alone with his thoughts, made him nauseous.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"…If you say so."

He raised his eyebrows at this, expecting her to be pushier about his response, like earlier. He listened to her retreating footsteps before he allowed his body to go limp and slide to the floor.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself (he seemed to be overusing that word lately, but circumstances called for it). He wasn't acting like himself and he was making Maka suspicious. If he kept up the skittish act and freaking out when she touched him, it would take no time at all for her to jump to conclusions… which would be sadly correct.

He dispelled those thoughts from mind and crawled into bed for a second time that night. His clock showed it was currently 2:30 in the morning, and he groaned because he knew it was going to be a very long night with no sleep. He dug around his drawers for his iPod and jammed the ear buds into his ears, putting the music at the loudest setting.

He concentrated on only that, the music and its beat thrumming through his ears into his brain. He sat in the corner of his bed, his back resting against the wall, and hugged his knees to his chest. Tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the music blasting through his mind, he pretended that the blanket he was now using to cover himself entirely really did protect him from the evils of the world.