Hmm…updating! :D That's new of me…but I should anyways. And notice the twists.
Chapter 10
Horrid Heartbreaker
I just can't believe what's in front of me…
November, 8, 2009
I
I keep fainting and coming back into reality.
I'm just so tired.
That I can't tell reality from my dreams and my unconscious anymore. It's like they're both two things that are mashed and collided together and I need to be fixed but no one cares that I'm broken.
I'm too broken.
And no one can fix me.
I don't think I can fix myself.
Can anyone fix me when I doubt myself so much? How'd this happen to me? Why'd this have to happen to me? I don't want to tell Randy. I don't want to tell Cody. I don't want to tell anyone about the nightmares that are pouncing in my sleep. They're too horrifying. They're too crawling under my skin.
I need to breathe.
I don't think I can.
All I taste is bitterness and Randy's afraid of me lapsing back into my used to be state, he's afraid that I'll lose too much weight all over again and I'm started to feel too cold to move and when I wake up, I find a rose in front of me, holding on its stem, I stare and look at the note.
Ted, I hope you feel better. I'm taking you to a doctor when I come back…Cody made me pick out the flower. Don't mind him. He just liked the color. —Randy
When he does come back, he tells me to dress up and when I'm finished, he holds me by my hand and takes me outside, and the coldness outside is too overwhelming and walking three steps is too hard for me now and in the middle of it, I fall down onto the floor. "Ted!" Randy exclaims, leaning down towards me, to stare into my eyes, and all I can see in his is pain.
Sorrow.
I don't need him to feel sorry for me. I can feel sorry for myself and I can't even do that myself.
"Randy?" I ask him.
He lifts my head so that we're eye to eye, "yes?"
"I have that black out feeling again…" it's dizziness. Too much dizziness and I fall down into his arms, feeling the blackness rush to my head, a needle through me, quick and painful, a surge of pain.
I don't wake up.
Not for a while.
I've been too scared for far too long.
I need to be strong…but I forgot how to be. How pathetic.
I end up in this place—I haven't had real dreams in a while. It has too many doors. Multicolor doors in a black background.
I wake to one of them.
It's blue.
I walk through the door and there's a lot of blue doors around, namely, all different shades, from a warm blue, to a dark blue, I go to the coolest, calmest blue door and walk through it, staring at the scene right in front of me—it's one of my memories—I'm not in a dream. I'm in my head.
As I realize this, I'm shocked on the inside, electrified, horrified, scared. How do I end up here? Why? I knew it was because of Richards screwing with my brain. I knew it was because of that. But why would he? Was I really just a scientific experiment in his opinion? Did I really have no feelings and no heart in his opinion? He's just not worth the tears and I know it but—I can't help but feel torn inside, being played like that, right in front of my eyes, but I wanted to be treated. And he treated me. He did, didn't he?
I had been so tired.
I'm still so very tired.
I'm suddenly fixed on the scene in front of me. My birth. Why blue? Why is it filed in the color blue in my mind? I stare as my mother holds me, and my father leans down—but I'm too silent for a child. I feel the doctor's hands sneak up from behind me, and look at me, "you with them, boy?"
I can't believe it.
I'm now becoming a part of my brain? My memories? I don't want to ruin myself further. But I don't know how I'm mixed into this mess. I'm there and I'm here and I fainted, too. Did he break me into pieces? The pieces that I've already known I was? I stare as my mother runs his fingers through my hair. "Theodore," she announces. "Theodore DiBiase Junior."
"Hey there, Ted," my father says, rubbing his rather large finger to my cheek.
I look back at the doctor and shake my head, "I don't think so."
"You lost?"
I nod my head because I'm lost. I've always been too lost in myself. "Are you okay, kid? You look sick?"
"I am sick." I say.
"What's your name?"
"Ted." I snap. "Just leave me alone."
I look around here, for a way out, I don't want him to question me and I'm tired of answering questions. I just want to go home. Where's home? Why am I too lost? Where the hell is a way out?
I walk out of the hospital doors, to see a bunch of people lined up, and I walk away. Blue…this is blue because it's calming. My birth. I guess I'm just painted blue. Painted with going to be depression.
I'm in another part of my memory.
Stuck in my memories.
And it's fearful.
Seeing this place.
People I don't think I've seen before. People I don't remember seeing before in my life and then at the park, there's Bob Orton and there's two year old Randy Orton in his lap, I look at him, even so tiny, he's a heartbreaker.
I sit down by the Orton Legend and stare at his son, "you watch wrestling I take, huh, kid?"
"Yeah," in a way, I do. I do watch the replays of the match, Randy used to make us do it so that we can learn from our mistakes and try not to do them again and staring at Randy, all cuddled up in Daddy's arms, 'he's going to be a great wrestler."
"You think so, kid?"
"I know so."
I stand up, staring at Randy one more time before I look away and start to walk away even though I don't know where to go and I don't want to leave Randy, even as a baby, and I stop when I realize that I've been walking to what feels like an hour and then, there's a faint voice at the back of my head.
"He's in a coma."
Coma?
Is this what coma people see?
Memories?
Or is it just me? I know it's got to be just me. I can hear Cody's shrieks and Randy's voice is too blurry and I need to go into a place where I'm alone, so I can hear it, and as I run to the nearest hotel, check myself in, and run inside of the room, falling down on my bed, it's all silence.
The sound of silence is deafening.
I'm all alone right now.
I wait to hear his voice again.
"Is Ted going to be fine?"
"We don't know, Mr. Orton."
"Is he going to be fine?!"
"Probably not."
"Why is he in a coma state?"
"We're checking on that."
"Please find out why. I swear I'll never forgive myself if I let him get hurt this way."
"We'll try our best."
I hear the sound of footsteps shuffling and I close my eyes, sitting on the bed, stretching and I don't know what the hell this doctor did to my brain but I think that's it, he's made me able to enter my memories, my dreams, feel them, as if they're real—they are real in some freakishly hard to explain way.
"Cody, we can't lose him again."
"I know."
"What do you think we should do?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?!"
That makes me jump. I think it made Cody jump too.
"Sorry, Cody, it's just that…"
"I know how you feel, Randy. He's my best friend, too…do you think that he can hear us right now?"
"I don't think so…"
By that time, I think I've fallen asleep because my eyes are shut and I'm still laying down onto the room, still so very scared, still wondering if I'm going to live or if I'm going to die in my own mind.
I don't know what's going on with me anymore.
…it's all pain.
Can I get out?
November, 9, 2009
I wake up.
And I'm in a different place completely.
It's more recognizable now.
I look down in my body and looked at how the flesh is different and how I look different and I realize that this time, I'm really in my memories, old enough to understand how the world looks, I think I've stitched my part. What's going on? What happened when I was born that was so heartbreaking enough to tear me out?
I think I understand.
When I'm too depressed, I break into pieces.
Like I felt when he did that operation on me.
When I break into pieces in my head, I break into people instead. If I'm too depressed, I'm here and I'm there…when I'm happy, I find myself in my old body. That's all I could understand. It's how he tricked my body and mind to work.
I feel even more shattered now.
I stand up and walk towards the mirror and stare at my image. This is a memory when I'm sixteen. I know that body. I know those eyes looking back at me. But being in my sixteen year old body just makes me feel confused.
So very confused.
Is this what happens when you mess around with past and present and memories and dreams? I'm so losing my own mind. I don't know what's going on with me enough to get myself out of this mess.
I put my hands in my pocket and feel as if something's bulging in my pants and I stare down to look at a sapphire ring. I don't understand. I've never seen this before. I stare at it, soft blue that's deepening. Is this my way to the doors? I put it around my finger and I see how it turns to a softer blue.
Depression.
As if what I'm reflecting.
This is my doorway.
I know it.
I just do.
I look around, and find myself looking as my father walks inside of my door and hugs me tightly, "missed me?"
"Y-yeah," I stutter.
"You look different today. What's up with the rock?" he can see that? I shake my head and look back down at my ring. "You're becoming like your old man already, huh? The bling?"
"Yeah," I reply. "I guess so."
"Something wrong, Teddy?"
There is something wrong. Looking at him right now, but remembering in another world, he's dead. It just affects me. Traps me inside. Hurts me. Shocks me. I just stare at him and shake my head.
"Don't lie to me, Ted."
I stare at him. "I-I'm not lying. I'm fine." Fine right now but only because I'm far away from his corpse.
"Theodore…"
I remember what happens in sixteen and I don't want to tell him that. Not tonight. I don't want to tell him that I'm gay. It's just too painful. I tell him that I'm gay and before I graduate, he persuades me to marry Kristen to make him happy and I don't want to remember that anymore because she's the one who broke me, even if I didn't even like her. I don't need to see her anymore.
"I'll tell you later on." I feel my stomach flip as I put my hands in my pockets and look back at the mirror, dressed up in a suit for tonight's dinner with the Orton's, I walk downstairs, and find Randy sitting there, crossing his legs and staring at me. How much I want to kiss him. I can't believe it's taken me five years to realize how much I've loved Randy Orton. His eyes, his smirk, his hair, his skin…perfection glistens whenever I stare at his body and face and all I want to do is hold onto him and make out and make him take all the pain away from my body.
But I know I'm going to mess with my mind.
If I mess with my memories, it doesn't change with the past. It just screws with my brain even more. That's what he wanted to do I guess. Make me all confused. Make me too vulnerable. I already am too vulnerable. Why would he do it? I don't know. I'm just his little test and he wonders if he could.
It just hurts knowing I've been used too many times.
It's hard staring at him, knowing that I can't have any bit of him, knowing that I'd have to sit through dinner and go through that horrible pain of telling my parents that I'm gay. It's just that night. And I just wish that I've been more shattered before—but all I remember from my last memories of this night, I started out excited. But now, I'm just too broken knowing the outcome.
I sit down onto the chair and stare at them, wiping the sweat off my forehead. "Ted? Are you okay?" My mother asks me, kissing my forehead.
I nod my head. "Yeah, just fine."
"Boy won't tell me what's wrong with him," my father says before my mother could ask and she nods her head and sits down. They've always hated how stubborn I am. I know that as I look down at my food but I shake my head and tell them that I'm not hungry even if truth, I am.
I hear a vague voice.
I know that Randy and Cody are visiting so I excuse myself from the table and walk over to the bathroom and shut the door to hear them, pressing myself against the wall so I could the words correctly.
"So what's up, doc? You found out what's wrong?"
"Unfortunately…"
"It's bad news?"
"Very."
"Cody, go get something for us to eat. I'll get more information."
"Okay, Randy."
"How bad?"
"Too bad."
"Tell me."
"I don't know how he's injured his brain. But he has. In ways I cannot imagine. In some way, half of his brain isn't working so the other half works harder to complete most of his actions and that tires out Ted's body out enough for him to fall asleep at random periods of the day. And then there are problems with his memory. He can't seem to have the same memories. They're changing every split second."
"What?"
"His memories are becoming his nightmares. In that case, he can be in them, mess with them, because his memories are slowly fading from his brain."
"How can we fix this?"
"Find out what he did and if it's surgery, we need those tools…"
"I—thank you for your time."
Randy's voice is so broken off at the end that I let the tears fall off my eyes and I don't care who walks in and who calls me a baby. This hurts.
Too much.
Because it hurts Randy.
I hear the door click open and there's Randy Orton, standing there with a confused expression as he leans down towards me, rubbing away my tears and I bite my lower lips. I don't want to lose my memories. I don't want to change my memories. I want to be normal again.
Figures I'm the only one in the universe who's banned form even having memories. I should just be banned from living.
Randy leans down towards me, touching my cheek and looking at me. "Ted, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"It's…I'm—gay." I have to find an excuse and I need to say these words tonight. I said them at the exact time I was supposed to in my real memory, but to the wrong person because then, Randy's mouth attacks mine with a kiss, passionately beautiful, and I have to push off.
"Randy, I'm sorry," I whisper. "It's—just complicated."
"I'm not good enough for you?" Randy asks, arching his eyebrow. "Not good enough, huh, Ted?"
"No, it's just that—"
And he punches me hard, and it's the most real, most inerasable thing in my head and I stare at him, confused as he grabs onto my wrist and pushes me towards him and kisses me, hard, harsh, and I suddenly feel too scared to speak as he pushes me towards the bath tub, kissing me again, harder, harsher and I could feel him biting at my lips and fear overtakes me.
After two minutes, he's fallen to the floor and with me on top of me, kissing me, refusing to let me breathe and I feel so breathless as oxygen becomes my only want and need as he strips me and soon, we're both just skin on skin, clothes on the floor and I feel like I'm being raped.
I want Randy.
Just not this one.
I'm becoming scared of Randy.
And I don't want to be.
I stare as he moves up and looks at me, "pretty little Teddybear, I'm sorry." Sorry? After he's finished? I stare at him, he's so perfect and I know it but he's hurt me…now, I'm scared of being with Randy.
Is he going to be like this?
I'm just so very scared.
And as I walk back towards the table, dressed up so messily, while Randy's too neat and seemingly too innocent, I flop down onto the chair and look at my father who's just staring at me. "Anything you need to tell us about?"
"No," I simply say and look down at the door.
I don't want to get yelled at. I don't want to be hurt. I don't—I just don't—I want to just run to my room and stay there forever and I don't want to look at Randy again. I don't think I can never look at Randy again.
When did I turn so fragile?
After dinner, I lock the door and finally let the tears fall, rapidly, no one there to wipe them and pretend like they're nothing…I have my clothes soaking them up, my emotions, as I fall down onto the floor, pressing myself to the wall and my voice's shaky and my body's shivering and I'm so cold…
"Hey, Ted. I know you're in a coma. But I'm telling you that I won't let anyone hurt you, how do you feel, Ted? I know I'm going mental. Talking to a coma patient but I have a feeling that you can hear me…if you can hear me, Ted, I'm not going to let anyone do anything to you…"
I look down at my feet and shake my head. So many things have happened. I don't want him to know about it. I don't want him to know that I suddenly know how eighteen year old Randy Orton looks like without his clothes on. It's confusing me…but it feels so real. It's like a drug addict that's trying to retain his drug addiction…this is as real as that. But I know it's not. I—I'm just so—confused. So scared. So sleepy—so terrified—so—
I fall asleep before I can even finish my thought.
I'm just so trapped.
Do I deserve this?
November, 10, 2009
Bleed
I wake up.
And fall asleep.
And wake up.
And fall asleep.
In and out of consciousness. In and out of unconsciousness. It's like a repeated pattern. My father walks into the room, I'm still sixteen and I'm still wondering what happened when I was a child that was enough to break me…when I was born…? I look down at the ring, it's still a soft blue color, and then it deepens blue.
I guess I need it to be a truly soft blue so I can go back there.
I stand up and look around and have my mother walk towards me all of a sudden, touching my shoulders and I flinch, staring at her. I don't trust anyone anymore. Randy…the person that I've lived with, the person I've practically trusted all my life, had just raped me last night. I don't think I can trust anyone after this.
Even if it's not real.
It just feels too real. I can't push it away. Last night hurt me more than Richards can ever could, having him do that to me, having him take my confidence away and having him do that to me—it just plain hurts.
"Theodore?" she asks, suddenly aware of my cautiousness.
"Y-y-yeah?" I stutter.
"Ted, what's going on?" she asks me, coming towards me and scooping me to her arms, but I shake at the sudden touch. I don't want anyone touching me. I'm just too terrified. I'm just too horrified.
"It's nothing!" I explain. "Nothing at all…"
"I'm worried about you," she says. "You haven't been like this in a while."
I nod my head. "I just want to be alone."
She stares at me, "are you—?"
"Just leave me alone!" I exclaim and she steps back, jumping in alert as she steps away and nods her head, tears brimming in her face… my mother's always been too sensitive and I guess I made her feel worthless so it hurts me seeing her this way, the woman who's gave me life… "I'm sorry."
She walks away without me saying another word.
I shut the door and hit my head to the wall, once, twice, three times and then smelling the blood running down the back of my head, so very rapidly and it hurts so very much and I feel myself drift off…too much pain…
They make me feel like I do…
Why do I deserve this?
November, 11, 2009
When I wake up, I'm back at the hospital, the scene where I left off—I'm standing here, in my sixteen year old body and I'm staring at my birth and then, there I am, too silent… the doctor stares at me, the little baby tucked inside of my mother's arms, wondering if there's anything wrong with me and then there are silent tears running down my face, staring at them, no word from my mouth at all, no scream, no nothing…
"Can I see this child? He's obviously not well."
They scoop me up and hold their hand to my head, "he's burning up very quickly. He has a fever and being just born and unexposed to anything, I'll see through this problem."
I follow them, confused and I see as they take me in their hands, me too silent, so very silent, and the silence, it's too deafening and I feel like I can't talk at all and I feel like I'm not meant to say a word at all.
I walk away to the room where my father and mother are, holding onto each other, looking so scared for me, and I wonder what they're scared for? I'm a shameful little piece of nothing. They expected more from me. I know that they expected some sort of champion coming out, someone who was truly priceless, but I've been refusing to let myself know that. That I'm just a cheap piece of pretty meat that everyone wants to touch and sleep with. To them, I'm not supposed to have a mouth that can talk, just a mouth that could suck.
I'm not supposed to talk. I'm not supposed to cry. I'm just supposed to do one thing in my life; just be what I'm supposed to be. A pretty little piece of meat. From Richards, to Randy, to—who knows? I know that these two people who I've trusted so well just see me as that and now, I only feel as that.
I hear the doctors as they walk inside of the room, with me in their arms, "we need to give Theodore a blood transfusion."
My mother gasps and my father stares so blankly, so emotionlessly. "Apparently, his blood level's too low because as I've told you, you haven't been eating enough during your pregnancy. Theodore's body doesn't have enough dosage of blood because you didn't at that once point. We need to give him a transfusion. We're keeping him in the ICU."
Intensive care unit? I stare at this. I've never seen this before. My head spins. My head burns. I feel like I'm dying. There was something wrong from me from the start. I should've just given up life then.
"ICU? He's so young." My mother interjects.
"We know, but we can't risk it. He's very sick to have his blood level so down at this age. But we have no other choice. We can find a blood donor easily."
My mother buries her head into my father's chest, sobbing, and I can only stare. My mother's so very hurt. I know I'll live but it still hurts to see her this way. I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to watch her suffer. But when I look back at my father, still so very blank and emotionless, like he doesn't care if I live or die.
"Can you at least pretend to be sad?" I ask him and he looks up at me with a shocked expression even though I forgot that he could listen.
"No, I can't. What's your problem? Why the hell are you here?" he snaps at me. "He's my child. I don't need to be sad for him. I need to be strong for him."
"Like you care if he lives or dies," I suddenly let my thoughts roll off my tongue and I don't want to start a fight. "You hit him because he's gay! You pushed him around senselessly for years and all for what? Because he's gay?"
"Who the hell are you?" he snaps at me.
"I'm your son," I step towards him. "In an impossible to explain way, I'm Theodore Marvin DiBiase Jr."
"You're joking, right?" he asks me.
"No," I snap at him.
"Ted—"my mother starts, trying to calm him down but he stares at her in a 'just let me handle it' look and she shuts up right away and he stares back at me, holding me by my wrist and staring at me, eye to eye.
"You are not my son," he stares at me.
I lift my shirt so that he can see that red birthmark that had been there since birth and as Ted inspects it, "Ted?" he asks me. "Good, so we'll know he'll be alive."
"You're a jerk." I suddenly say and I realize that I've said it to my father and I feel like a jerk right now but the words still slip off my tongue, so very horridly, 'you're a jerk for not taking care of me right. You're a jerk for not accepting me because I'm gay. You're just a jerk."
"You're gay?!" he snaps at me. "My son is not gay!"
"I am…" I whisper, feeling slightly scared and this is the very thing I tried to avoid that night, and I look down, with tears leaking out of my eyes.
"And he's not weak either!" he shoves me towards the wall. "I don't want you around anymore."
My mother suddenly realizes the seriousness in his eyes and tries to jump but the pain of childbirth had kept her suddenly wobbly and unable to walk and as my father runs out to the ICU, I stare with confusion as she walks towards me and hugs me, running her fingers through my hair. "Oh, Teddy, I'm just glad you're going to be alive—is this a sign from God that you're going to be fine? So that we won't worry or do anything drastic?"
"Yeah," I lie and I hate lying to her. She's the only one that's been good to me while I grew up and I kicked her out of my room yesterday. Why am I losing everyone I ever cared about? Why am I still there when I don't deserve to be?
Then we suddenly realize that dad can be anywhere and we're scared of the safety of—me? I'm just scared for the safety of my mother's health and we run towards the ICU, seeing my father there, holding a scalpel in his hand, looking at me and then even though I know it wasn't true, just a nightmare, he doses the scalpel deep inside of my chest, making me bleed, and there I am, eyes shut tight…
"Ted! Ted! No! Please…" she runs towards my body and stares at it, holding me close to her eyes, crying heavily. "My Teddybear's dead…"
I step back, seeing the animalistic passion in my father's eyes and staring at my corpse, little, too little, but I guess I deserve it. I said I didn't want to be alive. But I'm still here, still watching and with eyes that bleed pain, I look at my corpse again, just staring, just too scared, just too convincing, knowing that my father would've killed me that night if the Orton's weren't there.
I bit my lower lip, feeling more broken than ever, more suicidal than ever and I look down at my ring, as it flashes black.
There's no one in the world that can make me feel whole again.
Was I ever whole?
November, 12, 2009
I finally wake up from this coma, and I'm all alone.
The doctors all look at me, sad for me.
"Should I ring your friends?" a nurse asks me and all I can do is shake my head and all I want to do is cry and tell them how much I miss them. I want both of them, right here. My Cody. My Randy. But part of me just doesn't want to see Randy of all people, just too scared.
I try telling myself: those nightmares are not true.
But I feel like they are.
I sit down and they're afraid I might go back into a coma. Part of me knows that I'll go back into the coma. I look down and find that the ring is stuck on my finger, deeply, jet black, and I know what that means. My thoughts of suicide. My thoughts of complete and utter suicide. They're of this time of my life. This time of disaster.
If I feel a little bit more hopeful, I know I'll go back to my coma. I want to be treated. I want to be human enough to live my own life without worrying about my emotions. I miss them. I really miss them.
I look at my doctor, they're just so very sad that this happens to someone like me. I know one of them; one of them is there when I was born. "Was I really born all wrong? With a need for a blood transfusion?"
The doctor slowly nods his head. "Yes, Theodore," he says. "Your mother was awfully sad. I don't like your father though."
"My dad's dead," I finally say even though all I can remember is that horrid scene, my dad, a swift killer, plunging the knife deep into my stomach—and all I want to do is cry all over again. But I don't.
He looks sorrowful for me. "Your anorexia is just a symptom."
"Symptom?" all that torture, all that restraining myself not to eat—it's just a symptom? Suddenly, my stomach flips and my head pounds and I feel too sick to be alive. "Symptom of what?"
"You have chronic hepatitis C. From the blood transfusions you'd been taking for the course of six years. This shows up after 10 to 20 years…" there's just something so very wrong with me. I nod my head. "We need to fix your brain."
"I know," I whisper, so very lightly.
And I watch him walk away.
I don't fall asleep that night.
I'm afraid I'll wake up back into my shattered, horrifying memories.
No, just too many pieces.
I need to break free.
November, 13, 2009
Randy and Cody finally visit me.
I'm scared to death around them. It's like they're not even my friends anymore. It's like I've seen Cody for the first time. And Randy—all I remember is the rape, all I remember is his hands on me, all I remember is his tongue exploring me and not caring if he hurts me or not, it just hurts.
"Ted? Are you okay?"
I shake even though I don't want to and I feel Randy lean down towards me, holding my shoulder, but all I can feel is fear rising up through me. "Don't touch me!" I exclaim, having tears spring through my eyes.
"Ted?" Randy asks again, softly, touching my face and the tears are burning to my face, hurting me, pain burning and exploding. "Teddybear?"
I can't look at his eyes. I just can't. I close my eyes. It's just so vivid and clear and I feel him holding onto me, "oh, Ted, are you okay?"
"I want to die!" I exclaim, feeling my thoughts roll off my tongue.
"Is this because of your father?" he asks me, holding onto me, trying to calm me down and all I want to die, so very horribly, remembering the flashes—my father, the scalpel, the blood, it just hurts—and Randy's arms around me, squeezing the life out of me, and Cody's right in front of me, so very scared, holding onto my face.
"Let him die! I don't care!"
So much pain…and my eyes are too bloodshot—and I scream like Hell, scream so very loudly. "Get off me, Randy!"
I look down at my lap, feeling him get off and Cody's hand grip onto his shoulder and I feel the tears running down my cheeks again. Burning me. Exploding me. "I'm sorry, Randy…I'm sorry, Cody…it's just that I'm so confused…I'm so very confused."
"What happened, Ted? When you were gone?" Randy asks.
"Nothing…just being tortured, just being raped…"
"WHAT?!"
From myself.
This is not one chapter. This is a million chapters all sewed together or something.
;) Sam
