Whew! Quick update! I am on fire tonight! First I updated Last Night On Earth, and now this! I think that deserves a 'AWOOHOO!' for me...not that i should be happy about either of them...both of them are dark and depressing...but oh well!
To Leondra...i didnt really give hardly anybody enough time to read the first chap...hell it hasnt even been posted on the main page yet! But I still got one review! Darling...I have no idea whether the ending will be happy or not, I dont even know where I am going with this! But I will aspire to make it as happy as possible...to make everyone feel better hehe. I'm sorry if this story has disturbed anyone, it is a very touchy subject and I am dealing with it as carefully as possible...but please stick with me! I'm pretty sure it will get more descriptive...but try to stick with me! Please read and review!
I do not own Friends/Actors/ Characters, but I would love to comfort Chandler after a major whumping!
The pain lingered.
But still, it was an afterthought. He felt it, but not as much as he knew he should have. It still couldn't break through his exterior completely.
He was still numb.
Chandler stared at the door to Apartment 19, not sure if he wanted to go in there.
There would be questions. Worries. Fears. There would be concern and there would be Joey. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face that yet, but it didn't matter. It wouldn't bother him as much as it should have.
He was numb.
He wouldn't feel their pain, just like he could barely feel his. He would know it was there, just like he knew his was. But it wouldn't matter. Not at this point in time. Maybe later, but not now.
He was numb.
Chandler opened the door the Apartment 19 and walked in, his feet still on autopilot. One foot in front of the other.
"Hey Chandl-" Rachel's mouth fell open, effectively cutting herself off. "Oh my god sweetie, what happened?"
Chandler stared blankly at her for a moment.
"Where's Joey?" he asked dully, avoiding her question.
"On a date…I was just watching your TV," Rachel answered softly, standing. "What happened Chandler?" She walked up to him and Chandler flinched slightly. The close proximity. Even though he was numb, it still bothered him. Even though it was Rachel, it still scared him. "Chandler?"
"I-I…I was mugged," Chandler answered finally. The lie came out so easily, and he hadn't even thought of it. His brain was still asleep, still numb. He was working on autopilot.
"Oh my god! Are you okay?" Rachel exclaimed, a look of shock and worry twisting her features. She reached up to touch his bleeding head and Chandler flinched once more.
Touch.
He didn't like the thought of it. Even though he was numb, it still bothered him. Even though it was Rachel, it still scared him.
"Chandler?" Rachel whispered, her worried look changing into a look of fear.
"I'm okay," he answered a moment later, still on autopilot. "Just got…knocked around a bit."
"I can see that," Rachel murmured, taking his hand. Chandler flinched yet again, an action that didn't go unnoticed. "It's okay…I just want to look at your head."
"It's fine Rach…" Chandler trailed off as Rachel dragged him over to the barcalounger she had been sitting in. She sat him down, not seeing the wince that he emitted when he sat.
The pain intensified, and Chandler felt it breaking through his barriers slightly. Still not enough to affect him too much. Still not enough to get past his numbness.
"Just wait here," Rachel instructed. Chandler nodded, watching blankly as she quickly made her way into the bathroom. He wanted to go in there too. He wanted a shower. He needed a shower.
The smell lingered.
He could still smell them on him, feel them on his skin.
He wanted them off of him, but he still couldn't process.
"Okay," Rachel said as brightly as possible, walking out of the bathroom with a damp cloth. She leaned over Chandler and he flinched once more. Rachel saw his movement and misinterpreted it. "It's okay Chandler. This is going to hurt, but we have to do this."
"I know," Chandler said tediously, cringing at her touch. He didn't want her hands on him. He didn't want anyone's hands on him. Never again. But he couldn't tell Rachel that. He was still numb.
"There, it doesn't look so bad," Rachel said softly as she wiped at the wound on his head. "Just a small cut…the blood made it look worse then it is." She smiled reassuringly down at him, and Chandler attempted a smile back. He didn't get very far. "Now, about those bruises…"
"They're fine," Chandler interrupted as she went to touch him once more.
"Okay…any other injuries?" Rachel inquired, studying him critically. "There seems to be a lot of blood."
"I-I'm okay…just tired…going to bed," Chandler muttered, attempting to stand up. Rachel grabbed his arms, trying to stop him. He shied away from her touch, falling back against the chair.
"Chandler-"
"I'm okay," he repeated, glancing away from her worried gaze. "Just…a bit edgy…I just need to sleep."
"I think I'll take you to the hospital," Rachel said after a pause. Chandler shook his head. He couldn't go there. They would know. They would check. They would know. He didn't want anyone to know. He didn't even want to know. And he didn't at that moment. He was still numb.
"Honey, you're hurt and I think you're in shock!" Rachel exclaimed. Chandler shook his head once more.
"It's…I'm okay…I just need to sleep. It isn't as bad as it looks," he insisted. There was a long pause as Rachel stared at him, chewing her lip thoughtfully.
"Are you sure? You aren't just doing the guy thing where you claim you are okay…and then you collapse?" she asked him. Chandler shook his head again.
"I'm okay…just tired," he whispered. Another pause.
"Okay…but if you are bad in the morning, you're going in…you got me?" she asked sternly, her voice leaving no room for discussion. Chandler nodded, his face blank once more. "Okay…I'm going to go call the cops."
"Cops! Why?" Chandler exclaimed, emotion breaking through his numbness. Rachel stared at him in surprise.
"Chandler, you were just mugged!" she reminded him. "We have to report this!"
"People get mugged all the time," Chandler countered, his voice still on autopilot. "It's nothing…we aren't reporting it."
"Chandler-"
"No…its fine Rachel," Chandler snapped, rising to his feet. "I didn't…I didn't have much on me…I can cancel my credit cards…and now they have my gym card, which is a good thing." He let out a hollow laugh, which Rachel didn't join in.
"Are you sure?" she whispered. Chandler nodded.
"They have worse things to worry about. Murders…and r-rapes...they don't have time to worry about muggings."
"Okay, you win," Rachel sighed. "But remember what I said about the hospital…you want me to call Joey?"
"No!" Chandler yelled, causing Rachel to shrink back. He lowered his voice. "No…Don't interrupt his date."
"Okay," Rachel murmured. Chandler stared at her for a second.
"I'm going to bed," he told her. Rachel nodded. "Make sure…make sure the door is locked when you leave."
"I will," she whispered, the look of concern never once leaving her face.
"Thankyou," Chandler walked over to his bedroom, hoping that Rachel didn't notice the pain that was laced through his movements; his steps. Not that it mattered if she did. He could lie. It didn't matter if he lied. It didn't bother him.
He was numb.
He closed the door behind him, leaning against the hard wood for a moment.
He needed a shower; so badly, so much.
But he couldn't go out there again. There would be more questions, more worries, more insistence of him getting help. He didn't need help. He was in pain, but he didn't need help. The pain was still an afterthought, bursting through his numb exterior on occasions that suited it best. He didn't need help for something that he didn't even comprehend had happened.
Chandler gingerly walked over to the bed, sitting down carefully. He stared at his hands for a long while, watching as they slowly began to shake.
The pain.
The terror.
The touch.
The smell.
It stayed with him, hitting him at moments when he wasn't prepared. He may have been numb, but that was beginning to fade. The nothingness that had possessed him was slowly departing, leaving him with memories and pain.
He could still feel the fingers on his skin, touching him with brutal hands. He could hear the voices in his ears, taunting him, laughing at him, enjoying him.
He could still feel them inside of him; tearing him, hurting him, degrading him, ruining him.
They had violated him, broken him, shattered him. They had made him feel pain like he had never thought was possible. They had made him feel lower then anything. They had pained him, hurt him, killed him. Not physically, but emotionally.
A wet spot appeared on his shaking hand and Chandler stared at it in confusion. He raised his hand to his face, surprised to find he was crying. He had thought he was numb; numb people didn't cry.
But he was crying. His numbness had dissipated, and left him with nothing but pain and memories. He lay down.
The touch.
The smell.
Them inside him.
Them violating him.
Them ruining him.
Chandler pulled his legs up to his chest, making himself into the tiniest ball possible. He wasn't numb anymore. He felt everything. Every twinge of pain, every humiliating memory, every terrified sob and scream he had emitted.
I've been waiting all night for this
Chandler squeezed his eyes shut as he recalled the voice, sickly sweet in his ear.
We have all been waiting for this
A sob escaped his lips and Chandler pulled his legs closer still, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood that still ran down his thigh.
Beautiful eyes…that's what we look for in a man
Chandler whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut tighter still. He hadn't had a chance. Four of them against him. He hadn't had a chance.
Well…not all we look for in a man…there are other things too
He wished he was still numb; he didn't want to feel it, didn't want to remember it.
You look like a good fuck…if you're lucky, maybe afterwards we will let you live
In a way, Chandler wished they hadn't. He wished they hadn't left him lying there in his own blood, violated, shaking, broken. If they had have let him die, then he wouldn't have felt this way. There had been another choice though.
Maybe we might even take you with us…we could use the entertainment
Whispers, so soft and sickly sweet, the subject contradicting the tone. The whisper had been the one that lovers used on one another, but Chandler hadn't felt loved. He had felt dirty, disgusting, broken.
We can't wait to hear you scream
Chandler's body trembled like a leaf, and tears streamed down his face. He wanted to sob, but he was unable to. His voice, his breath was hitching painfully in his throat, adding to the pain that his entire body felt. He trembled with pain, with memories, with the smell, with fear.
We might just come after you later…to finish the job
Chandler jumped up suddenly, ignoring the pain that jolted through his body at the sudden movement. He stared at the door in horror, backing away from it. They could come back. They might not have finished with him. They could come back.
Chandler stared at the closed door, wishing that there was a lock on it. He had to stop them from coming for him; he had to protect himself from their touch, their smell, their pain.
He couldn't let them near him; he wasn't safe anywhere. But he couldn't leave this room…not while they might still be looking for him. Not that night. Not when he was alone in the apartment. Not when he was so dirty, so pained, so terrified. Not when he wasn't numb anymore. He had to wait for that numbness to return, for it to protect him once more.
Chandler considered calling out to Rachel, begging her for help, but he stopped himself. They couldn't know. They weren't allowed to. It wasn't their concern. This had happened to him, not them. He had to deal with it on his own, not drag them into it. They couldn't know.
Instead, Chandler grabbed a chair and sat it under the doorknob. He had learned that trick when he was a child, trying to keep his feuding parents out of his bedroom; trying to keep them from involving him in their petty revenge games.
It worked well, not as well as a lock, not as well as a wooden board and nails, but it still worked well. Probably not well enough to keep large, dangerous men out of him bedroom; keep their brutal touch, their sickly sweet threats, their smell away. It wasn't enough to keep them from touching him again, from violating him once more, from degrading him, from ruining him.
Chandler backed into the corner behind the bed, then realised that he wouldn't be able to see the door from there. He had to see the door. He had to be prepared.
Chandler stood on shaky legs, pain coursing through his body. He sat down on the bed once more, pressing his back up against the wall. He picked up his pillow, hugging it pitifully as the tears came once more.
He wasn't safe, but he could see the door now. He could know when they came for him. He could be prepared. Chandler sobbed into the pillow, his body shaking dangerously.
He needed a shower. He could smell them. He could feel them on him.
He needed a shower.
But he couldn't have one, not till the morning.
If he was still here in the morning.
Till then, he had to sit, had to wait, had to cry, had to remember. It would have been so much easier if he was still numb. But that feeling had gone, and all he had were his memories.
The pain.
The terror.
The touch.
The smell.
The blood trickling down his thigh, a reminder of what had happened. He was dirty. He needed to be clean. But not till the morning.
Till then he was stuck with the smell. Not that the shower would get rid of it.
Till then he was stuck with the memories, the pain, the fear.
He wished he was numb.