Drabble: Blame

Very dark. I hope you guys don't hate me after I write this. Implied sexual assault. There might be a bit of confusion as the POV changes.

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It hurt so much, this tearing in her heart. With each flutter, a sharp pain grew from her chest that ran from her chest to her toes all the way to the tips of her fingers. It felt like stings of needles, of pointy sharp fangs that pierced her skin and sank into her flesh. What was worse was when it dug in and dragged leaving behind a trail of scorching pain. She deserved this.

It all started very innocently. The darkest, most horrible things start without warning, without provocation. If she was vigilant, if she wasn't so fucking weak she might have protected herself. She might have never gotten into such a situation.

It was after breakfast that is occured; after Ulquiorra left the room. She was all alone again. That seemed to be the trend of her life now, to be alone. She accepted this.

It was during this, as she stood opposite to her open window, staring at the moon. The day will never come, it will always be night for there is no sun or stars. Her back was to the door, her defenses down. She never saw it coming. Even if she did, she wasn't sure she could defend herself against the strong and powerful man.

"Hello, Pet-sama." The voice was oily, and the laugh that followed was high pitched. Two hands grabbed her, entrapping her against him tall boney frame. "What's wrong? Not happy to see me?"

She stayed perfectly still. Maybe if she doesn't look scared, he'll go away. Maybe if she acted like Halibel, cold and calm he'll go away.

It didn't work.

She heard him sniff her hair; pull a few of them for a closer look and she felt his breath on her neck.

The next action, made her squirm and struggle. His tongue ran from the lower part of her jaw, up to her cheek and it left a white slimy line on her face. "You're tasty Pet-sama." He had a long and big tongue, with the mark of his rank tattooed on it.

"Please let me go." Her voice sounded weak even to herself, it sounded desperate. The only response was his long boney hands moving up to grope her chest, they squeeze.

She shrieks a loud high-pitched scream a product of surprise and fear. It was different when a man was pawing her chest; it was different when the intent is much more deadly.

He didn't seem scared or worried at her scream. He had no reason to be.

One hand continues squeezing her chest, while the other sneak under her dress and runs along her thigh. She freezes, shuddering as his hands crawled like a spider over her lower body.

His hand goes lower and lower and lower. She tries to muster the courage, the will to use her power to stop him but she couldn't. She was too scared.

Nnoitra chuckled. "That's right, if you play nice you won't get hurt too badly." His words hold a dark promise.

He strokes her, at the same time he moves his other hand up to muffle her mouth. Her gasp is stiffened and her whole body shakes. It wasn't suppose to be like this, she wasn't suppose to be doing this.

She could feel a hard point poking the back of her legs and she knew what he wanted. She struggled harder, fought and he held her with ease. She panicked, he laughed as her futile struggles grew weaker and weaker.

Wetness on both hands, he smirked when he felt it. He grabbed her, pushing her down onto the cold floor. Loud ripping sounds one after the other as the last scraps of her clothes were thrown around the room.

Her skin prickled and form tiny bumps as the cold adversely affected her. Rough hands pressed down on her, yanking her legs apart. Again, she felt the hardness touch her inner thigh.

This time, this time she resisted with all her will and all her heart. She didn't want this to happen to her. She wasn't going to let this monster use her in such a way. She fought with elbows and fists; she used her wits and formed a shield to protect herself from her attacker.

She had gained enough room, to turn around and face her attacker.

Nnoitra laughed at her attempts, pulling back his fist to punch through her shield. The first hit was a loud crack, as his fist splintered the shield. This made him pause, his eyes narrow and his lips curl with a perverted smirk before he punched the shield again. The second punch shattered the shield, the many glowing shards of it falling through the air dissipating before it hit the ground.

He then slapped her, open handed with enough strength to bruise but not enough to break bone. It was his way of telling her she was being a bad girl for resisting. Her head was jerked to the side from the force, her muscles strained, and the flesh on her face was bruised.

She tasted blood. He must've split her lip.

With another hand, he drew his arm back ready to smack her again. He grinned maliciously at her, this next strike was for fun, for his own pleasure.

A loud crack in the air, as fist met flesh.

Orihime flinched. She opened her eyes to see Nnoitra was gone. Instead there stood Ulquiorra in all his silent glory. He didn't speak, his eyes raking her frame making her cheek burn with embarrassment.

Nnoitra was no where to be seen and she was glad that he was gone. She knew what would happen had Ulquiorra not interfered. It was times like these that she truly appreciated her guard.

Ulquiorra looked at his charge, disgusted of his fellow ararncar's actions and of his own. He unzipped his jacket and tossed it to her. Her nakedness didn't bother him but it was the fact she was naked that did. He had failed in his duties and failed Aizen's trust in him.

He resisted to go out and hunt for Nnoitra and beat him within an inch of his life. He would do that later. He had to tend to the woman, make sure she isn't traumatized or in any way in capable of doing her duty.

It was logical to think Nnoitra would follow up with his interest. It was logical to think that Nnoitra was a threat to his mission.

"Ulquiorra." The woman was wrapped in his jacket, the white uniform covering her naked form. "Thank you." She sounded honest.

He didn't like the woman. He didn't like that she changed him, entranced him. He didn't like the feeling that swam in his gut as he looked at her. He didn't like her voice, how it sounded so innocent and damaged at the same time.

He turned his head to stare at the wall. For what reason should she be thanking him?

He failed.

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And there it is. Phew.