Hi guys! This chap was written quick because...well, I was having so much trouble with it, that I just wanted to end it quickly! Hehe! It's short, and it may not be good, but I did do it quick, just remember that! The next - last - chap will be up soon, I hope! And I hope you all enjoy this chap...maybe! Please read and review!

I do not own friends/ characters/ actors...but I do own...uhh, an extensive mp3 collection? How is that linked to friends? I have the theme song!

Everything lingered.

All swirling together; undefinable from one another. The smell, the touch, the terror, the pain.

All swirling together; swirling like his blood down the drain. Like a Picasso. Like a Monet. Like a Van Gough. Except not beautiful. Far from beautiful.

But then, his blood had never been beautiful. He had merely pretended it was. Pretended, just like he was now.

Chandler scrubbed at his body furiously, desperate to rid himself of the smell. Desperate to rid himself of everything. But still, it lingered.

And still, he couldn't define it anymore.

He had survived another night; survived the terror that came with the darkness. Survived the terror that came with everything.

He hadn't slept; had watched the door instead. Yet again, he had feared for his life. His life and his sanity. They had promised they would return, and the wait was tearing him apart. More so then their violation had. He was already ruined, but the wait was breaking him even more.

In a way, he wished for them to return. Then he wouldn't be waiting. Then he wouldn't be wondering; anxious for their return. If they came to take him, he would know. He wouldn't be waiting anymore.

But he would be in the worst place imaginable.

In a place where he could be broken again. In a place where he would be forced to watch their sick smiles; see their faces contorted in pleasure, as if they were on a trip to Utopia itself.

Chandler would be their Utopia. Their heaven. Their pleasure. And they would be his pain.

Utopia.

That was a place that Chandler would never reach; a place that he would never visit. To visit such a place would be a gift from the powers that be, and Chandler doubted they would offer him such a gift. They would be too busy laughing at him; laughing at the fear they had caused him, laughing at the life he was now doomed to lead.

A life of agony.

A life of loneliness.

A life where he could not talk to his friends; could not tell them his dark secret.

He would never get to go to Utopia.

Instead, he was to stay here, watching his blood trail down the drain once more. The blood that had dried long ago, but was being created once more. Created by his insistency to be clean.

He didn't know why he bothered; he knew he would never be clean.

But still he tried; still he scrubbed. Still he cleansed. Still he created more blood; blood that he could watch and pretend it was beautiful.

He scrubbed until it started to sting, and then continued scrubbing. The pain was refreshing. He had caused it. Him. Not those four men.

At least he had some control over his spiralling life.

Chandler glanced up at the water; looking away from the blood. The water had gone cold. He closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling for a moment. It was a shock to the system and caused his skin to numb.

Numb.

He had longed for that.

But this wasn't what he wanted.

He wanted the real thing, not the substitute.

He opened his eyes, and stared dejectedly at his raw arms.

This wasn't working.

He still could smell them on him; feel them touching him, teasing him, humiliating him. It hadn't worked.

He had known that it wouldn't, but it still annoyed him.

Shutting off the water, Chandler stepped out the shower and mechanically grabbed his towel. He started to dry himself off, then caught his appearance in the mirror.

Bruises.

Littered across his face and body.

Their mark that they had left.

Eyes-

Beautiful eyes

- once so alive and dancing. Now they were dull and dead. Not beautiful anymore.

Scrapes.

Caused by them, continued by him.

He stared at the man in the mirror, feeling sick.

Pathetic.

He looked pathetic.

He was pathetic.

Chandler pulled himself away from the mirror, tears welling in his eyes. He finished drying then got dressed, still on autopilot. Glancing down at his arms, he realised that his short sleeves wouldn't cover the raw scrapes. Not that it mattered.

He didn't have to hide them; not at the moment.

There was nobody to hide them from. Joey wasn't home.

Chandler hoped Joey would never be home. He couldn't live like that; couldn't live like this. Not with the fear. Not with the pain.

Rachel could return. Or Monica. Or anyone.

He would change in his room. Seven steps at the most. No one would catch him; catch his bleeding arms.

Chandler opened the door, glancing anxiously into the room. There was no one. No friends, no monsters. No angels, down from heaven to save him from his plight. No one to help bring him to his Utopia. He took three painful steps forward, breath coming out in short gasps. Four more steps. Just four more until he was relatively safe. Safe as he could be at that moment. Three. He bit his lip, staring at his closed door. That was his Utopia. As close as he would get, anyway. Two. He held his breath. One.

His shaking hand grasped the doorknob and turned. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"There you are." Chandler let out a cry, his knees turning to jelly. For a second, he saw the monster. He saw something that wasn't there. A concoction of his fickle mind; making him see things that weren't there. It wasn't the monster. But it was still hell. "Chan?"

"J-Joey…you scared me," Chandler stammered, taking a step back into the living room. Joey walked forward, smiling grimly.

"Sorry…I was just waiting for you…waiting to see if you wanted to talk or something?" Chandler nodded, taking another step back. Then another. He kept going until his back was pressed up against a wall.

"Talk…sure. What do you want to talk about?" he whispered, his breath coming out in short pants once more. Joey cocked his head, staring at Chandler's face. His gaze slowly moved down his shaking body and Chandler trembled. The monster had studied his body too; looked at him approvingly.

"W-What happened to your arms?" Joey hissed, his eyes widening. Chandler glanced down at his bleeding arms.

"…from…from the mugging…they did a number on me you know?" he laughed lightly, pressing his back harder against the wall as Joey approached once more.

"But…but that was two nights ago, and they are bleeding."

"I must have…aggravated them, or something…don't you have an audition to go to or something?" Chandler almost pleaded, sounding as pathetic as he looked. Joey shook his head.

"I'm not going…wanted to talk to you," he murmured, stepping closer still. He was so close now; too close. Almost close enough to touch him. Chandler sidestepped away, glancing behind him; glancing to the front door. How he wished he was out there now. Away from Joey; away from his threatening touch.

"Chandler?" Joey's voice was hurt, like yesterday, but Chandler didn't care.

"I-I have to go," he whispered, edging away. Joeys hand slammed against the wall next to his head, effectively cutting off Chandler's escape. He let out a terrified cry, staring at Joey. He knew it. Joey was male; Joey was no different to the monsters. Joey was going to shatter him. "P-Please Joe…I have to go."

"Chandler, what happened that night?" Joey pleaded suddenly, confusing Chandler. He didn't sound angry; lustful, teasing. He sounded concerned. A trick. "Why are you terrified of me?"

"I'm not terrified of you," Chandler insisted, glancing fearfully from Joey's face to his hand, so close to his own face. Too close. So close that Joey could grab him; stop him, hold him down. Touch him.

"Yes you are! Chandler, please!" Tears sprung to Joey's eyes and Chandler frowned at him. Still a trick. He couldn't fall for it. He had to get away; get away from his friend. Find his Utopia…which at the moment was anywhere but here. He had to get away.

"Leave me alone," Chandler cried suddenly, pushing Joey's arm away. He went to run, but Joey was quicker then he had anticipated. He wrapped his arm around Chandler's waist in desperation; not wanting to let his friend get away. "No! Don't touch me! Get off of me!"

Joey pulled Chandler's thrashing body in closer, holding him tightly as his friend continued to scream.

"No! Please, don't! Don't touch me!" Chandler lashed out, and Joey fell back, holding his eye. Chandler pressed his back against the wall once more, tears streaming from his eyes. "Don't ever touch me! Nobody touches me! Nobody! You sick bastard! Don't touch me!"

Joey's hand fell from his eye and he stared at Chandler; stared at his shattered best friend. "Oh god," he whispered. "Oh my god."

"No!" Chandler screamed as Joey started forward again. "No! I won't let you hurt me again!"

"I'm not going to hurt you Chandler." Joey reached out and touched his friends' shoulder, dismayed when Chandler lashed out again.

"Fuck you!" Joey winced as Chandler's hands beat into him. He grabbed Chandler's arms as gently as possible, trying not to hurt him. Chandler let out a chocked cry, his knees buckling.

"Chandler!" Joey grabbed his friend; stopping him from falling. He wrapped his arms around Chandler's shaking body.

"Don't touch me," Chandler pleaded, struggling still against Joey's hold. "Get off me! No!"

"It's okay Chan…I'm not going to hurt you," Joey whispered as Chandler continued to scream. "No one is going to hurt you."

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" Chandler sobbed, his knees buckling once more. Joey held him closer, then slowly lowered him to the floor; Chandler still struggling all the way. Joey listened as Chandler's screams and sobs turned into an agonising wail, and kept his hold tight; even through all the struggling.

After an eternity, Chandler went limp. His struggles stopped and he sagged into Joey's touch, his sobs becoming muffled in his friend's shoulder. Joey held him closer still, rubbing his back gently.

"It's okay Chandler…its going to be okay."