Messed-up shit to be honest. No sex this time.
(Depression; Slow-Burn; Death mentions; Elements of rape; Nervous breakdowns; PTSD; Grimdark)
This one is going to be a heartbreaker in the beginning. But I thought about this one for a while now, so please just appreciate of what I'm doing, okay? I'm sorry for those who are very sensitive to death, rape, and depression. You might as well heed the tags that I putted above here in case some of you want to know what contains in this story. I can be very dark...
Also, sorry if there had been some OOC (Out of Character) between Beelzy and Clamps.
Settling his cup of tea down on the coffee table once more, Beelzy returned to the basket of clean laundry he'd done for the clamping unit, who was out for the day to meet with his boss down in the busy New New York City. The tired-eyed, red robot picked up a blue shirt, smelling of lavender and laundry soap. On his right was a bundle of hangers that were both new and old. The new ones were a glossy black while the others were a mixed colors such as aqua, silver, pale pink, and royal blue. They were in a neat line of patterns: dark and color repeated. The two Border Collies sat on the ground just a few feet away from the couch, looking at the horned robot in both a curious and concerned way of their new-found friend.
Robot Devil didn't mind being stared at, as he looked on the bright side of the dogs' nature. Beelzebot always remember that it was normal for dogs to be there by your side, always looking aware and alarm for their owner/master. "Good dogs," he complimented.
He returned to the blue shirt, picking up the first color that his hand reached out for—a black hanger. For a few quick seconds, the Robot Devil slid the shoulders of the hanger inside the shirt through the collar, then laid it down on the clear low table in front of him, next to his tea he was aware of. Without looking of where his hand picked out from the basket, Beelzebot looked over his shoulder and saw that he'd picked up a pair of cargo shorts. Nostalgic feelings begin to overrun his system as he then laid them on his lap, his thumbs and other digits of his hands feeling through the cotton-synthetic fabric, already bringing up some bearing memories and flashbacks that happened all so sudden over the past eleven months now.
It was sometime around either the mid-January or the beginning of February when the first incident occurred in a public place. He believed it was the theatre that happened, Manhattan produced plays that were rather intriguing for many audiences over the years. Their theme this year was Edgar Allan Poe's many horror stories. It was said in the brochure that each play was carefully scripted and read wisely in order to make these plays. It produced, at first, the very first of Edgar's stories: Evening Star, which talked about a star being bright in a evening of darkness. Each play was full of characters that were the same. Some of them were males dressed as females or females dressed as males; so there was a bit of gender-fluid along these plays. The play was a little treat from Francis since he had always read some of the guy's poems.
The cast spend at least two hours and forty minutes impressing both Beelzebot and their audience. It wasn't much of a surprise when a woman came up from the stage saying that she was the producer.
At the end of the play, the two manbots were walking outside of the theatre and into the sidewalk when a voice from behind them and far away cried out: "Hey, Francis!" The voice was male, but sounded out very feminine. At first, they thought that it was someone who had his name, only to hear the sound of feet running closer to them and yank back Francis' scarf. He was rather pissed off that someone almost managed to choke him with his own scarf. His own scarf I tell ya!
Francis, angrily, turned to the figure who tried to suffocate him. "Hey, buddy! What's the big ide—Derek?"
The figure who choked on Francis happened to be Derek—Francis' ex-boyfriend from Sicily 8 High School. It was just like what Beelzebot pictured: a lilac-purple feminine manbot with a cylinder head with short, black-brown hair, his body the same shape of his head with sphere hands and skinny arms. Derek appeared to be a twenty-year-old, yet he was old. Still wore the same woman's glasses from high school. And, appeared with a few extra appearances to him—such as a necklace and a few cotton bracelets on his wrist. Wearing but a yellow T-shirt and some blue shorts. Derek wasn't alone either, just a couple yards away from him was Alex, the jock that he'd fucked.
"Francis, it's so good to see you again after all these years!" Derek exclaimed. "I barely recognized you; have you lost weight?"
Beelzy heard the unit's throat clear in annoyance, but kept his anger in check. "Uh, no, I haven't..."
By then, Derek's attention was then focused on the Robot Devil, whose face was confused. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were dating again." Derek's voice seemed like as if he saw the same thing one too many times, but he tried to cover it. Derek then chuckled, "Funny, I didn't know you were into sluts like this one!"
A sharp gasp of shock from the Robot Devil, his chest ached and burned from the insult. Who was he to call him a slut? Derek literally fucked someone that wasn't Francis, so he was the one to be called that for good. Francis slit his eyes at Derek, his clamp lightly squeezing his arm for security. By then, Alex walked to the sidewalk and stood next to Derek, his grey copper arms in a cross and just laughed at Derek's insult. "Ha! Good one, babe! That'll teach your ex to stop fuckin' around with other robots!"
Francis looked taken back a bit. "Excuse me?"
"What? Didn't you hear me, dick-licker?" Alex scolded, "The reason your boyfriend broken up with you was 'cause you were so horny for more than one guy! Derek told me that you had one in the ass! Guess not only you couldn't put your dick away, but you can't close your legs!"
Each word from Alex's mouth threatened to break Beelzy's arm, Robot Devil had to act fast. With a tug, Beelzebot replied. "Francis, let's just go, they're wasting your time—our time."
"Yeah, sure—your time to fuck!" Alex roared before Derek laughed out loud.
Francis growled, his clamp was taken away from Beelzy's arm and stomped up to the manbots. "Y'know, Derek, I thought that the reason you tugged my scarf was just because you wanted to see how I was doing. But as it turns out, I was so wrong!" He sarcastically yelled out before turning to Alex. "And for the record—it's your boyfriend whose the slut! I never cheated on him; he cheated on me! He was the one who couldn't keep his legs closed!"
Alex stopped laughing, his fists vibrating to the smaller manbot. "What...did you say...about Derek?"
"Francis, please! It's not worth—" His protests were rather like small whispers. Francis was not just angry, he was fucking mad. He was mad that Derek lied to Alex about the whole reason why they broke up in the first place; he was mad that Alex called his new boyfriend a "slut," when in real life he was just an innocent virgin; and, most of all, he was mad that Alex turned out to be such an asshole and a dumbass. With a clamp in the air, Francis threw a punch into Alex's face, the grey large manbot stumbled to the ground. Derek did a small gasp and ran over to his second boyfriend, as the feminine manbot saw the other robots turning and walking away, he stood up and did useless shouts.
"Fuck you, Francis! Just...fuck you! I never even loved you! You can just crawl in a cave and just die! It is no wonder why your mother left you!" Francis froze, his breathing stopped. The Robot Devil saw that his yellow eyes almost was at tears.
Closing his eyes and clutching onto his chest, he opened them to look away and gripped Beelzy's hand. "C-C'mon...Beelze..."
Beelzy swallowed the lump, his throat was about to burn as the awful memory of seeing Francis looking so crushed hurt him. He exhaled sharply and shakily, Beelzy knew that Francis' mother leaving him and his dad at such a young age was no joke. By then, Mr. Pickles walked up to the broken horned robot, the male dog whimpered as he laid his head on Beelzy's thigh. He looked down at the adult dog, he did a playful scoff before scratching his ear. It was almost as if Mr. Pickles felt the same way he did.
"Oh, it's alright, you silly dog." He sniffled. Beelzy patted an empty seat on the couch next to him. "Here, wanna sit with me? You can bring your daughter up." Mr. Pickles happily accepted the offer, getting his daughter, he picked her up by the mouth like a feline mother to her kittens, then jumped to settle her down. Beelzy looked back at the father-figure dog, then back to folding the laundry. He mindlessly folded the shorts as he continued through a couple more shirts.
More flashbacks of that incident burned his vision. Later that same evening, Francis acted as if he was a stranger to the new world, looking miserable as shit. Derek went too far that afternoon, mentioning his mother leaving was a huge asshole move. How did he changed from a loving character to this sassy, back-talking persona who didn't give a fuck? Francis knew that back in high school, with trust, told Derek about the events that occurred in his childhood—his mother leaving him at the age of four and how he had to deal with Jewel's abuse since seven.
But now, he could clearly see that Derek was somewhat toxic towards him, like finding out that he lied on why they broke up. Only to have the tables turn to him, pointing at Francis in a taunting way of saying "fuck you." Everything was already coming back to him like rushing water in a stream. Sure, he was comfortable about talking his past, but...now all he wanted to do was be isolated. Isolated from the world; isolated from everyone; and even isolated from people he loves.
That night, while Beelzebot was in the kitchen making himself a nice cup of a herbal tea, Francis walked into the kitchen, looking as if he heard some bad news. Concern washed over the red robot.
"Beelze, when you're done, can I talk to you for a sec?"
Beelzy looked at the machine, still heating up his water. "I can talk now; the water is just heating up." The Robot Devil remembered sitting down in the chair in the dining room. Francis sitting next to him, like a lawyer dealing with their grieving client. There was a uncomfortable silence between the two, then, a heaving sigh came from the clamping unit.
"Babe, listen...I—I think I need some time alone." Francis finally said.
"Oh, Francis, if this is about what happened today, it's none of your fault, Derek just says things that—"
"Babe...please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "I just...I just need some alone time is all. I can't be bothered for a while." Unable to do more sentences, he buried his face into his clamps, getting quiet with sniffles and sharp exhales. Beelzy's face was turned into a heartbroken expression, he wanted to reach out and hug his boyfriend tightly, not wanting to let go of him for the rest of the night. But he couldn't, a feeling of guilt was lingering in the air. A high-pitched whistle was sounded in the kitchen, the water was now ready for tea. Beelzebot just turned away, his eyes down on the ground as he got up from the kitchen to get his cup ready.
To his own surprise, instead of reaching for his cup, he grabbed a thermos and put in the teabag first before filling it up with hot water. Beelzy knew that he wanted to comfort the other robot in the room, but he couldn't, not when Francis was going to be depressed like this. Six months into their relationship and already, someone was going through the harsh reality of their past. Francis already knew that he didn't want his partner being in his bubble of sadness. Small sobs were being heard from the dining room, he looked over his shoulder...mistakes had been made. Already, the bronze 'bot was slowly sinking himself, being broken out of his depression and spots of tears were dripping down the sides of his face, the droplets falling to the table like rain.
Blinking away beginning tears, he screwed back on the cap of the thermos. Exiting out the kitchen and grabbed the knob of the front door, looking back once more, the two Border Collies whined out to the horned robot—begging for him to stay and be there by their master's side. The Robot Devil mouthed out, Sorry, opening the door and closing it behind him.
Beelzy quickly put the shirt down and put his hands in his face, groaning with guilt. His hand was now covering his mouth, looking out in the distance of where the tall, brown grass grew from across the country road, stopped by the wooden fence. Many straws and thin poles of it swayed in the wind like a tipsy sailor at seas. Crowding each other all in one huge group. A bright flash of light then burned his technical eyes, taking him to another memory.
He saw himself in Leela's apartment, tissues were littered on the coffee table as the horned robot grabbed another soft, square paper. Leela sat beside him, her hand on his thigh in a friendly way. Beelzy blew his nose, eyes running with tears. It had been a whole month since he left Francis' house, there hadn't been any contact from him since, he was now a nervous wreck, acting out like a raggity bitch to his robot demons, who were concerned of their boss' behavior. He came over to Leela's apartment not too long ago, correctly, it had been an hour since he arrived. He wanted to talk to someone very close to him about his problems, just let them out in all one big cry.
"I don't know what to do, Leela." Beelzy quivered, using the same tissue to blow his nose and wipe away heavy tears. "I haven't heard from him for over a month! I tried everything: texts, calls, letters. I never get an answer back. What if something happened to him?"
"Oh, there, there, Beelze." Leela tried to comfort him. "I know this is hard for you, but it may be harder for him. I'm pretty sure he wants some time alone."
Beelzy looked at the mutant, gravelly, "That's what Francis said. But I'm worried about him. Joey called me two days ago saying that he never showed up in any heists, meetings, or robberies. Joey and the Donbot had to do those things all by themselves."
"You're that afraid, huh?" Beelzebot nodded as a answer. He took another tissue, this time, he only used this one to wipe his tears. She then removed the hand she placed on his thigh, moving it over to his shoulder before smiling softly at him. "Tell you what: Why don't I call over Amy and ask her if she wants to do a girls-and-one-boy night out? That way, Francis can be out of your mind for now, and you'll have some fun with us girls."
Doing a shaky exhale, he nodded, a bit guilty that he wanted to have fun. But maybe Leela was right about taking a break off of the severely-depressed Francis from his mind. Have some fun, drink a couple of drinks, and spend some time with his favorite females. Leela got off the couch, walking into the other room where her phone was in order to contact Amy.
For the rest of the day, Leela, Amy and Beelzy went out in far side of New New York. The red robot himself was trying to have a good time, but the thought of Francis still clouded over his mind. Even Amy knew what was up. "Come on, Beelzy! Let's ditch this shit-show! We can go to the carnival." Amy yelled, tugging his arm in the streets of New New York. The sun was already going down, the sky was a deep orange with a pale pink and neutral yellow slashing over. The young opposite sexes dragged him to a scream-filled, nauseated-smelled, and hay-scented playground full of rides, games, and food that could make a model's diet be ruined for a week. Railings from rides shook and rattled from all around the environment he was in. Amy paid for their way inside the carnival.
The nervousness from his fear of Francis and the smell of the carnival mixed together into making his stomach tight and queasy. Lights from above the carnival blinded his vision and he absentmindedly stepped into a small pile of dirty hay that spilled from the barrel of straw. Little kids ran from every corner that he didn't look and one little girl bumped into him, getting up from the ground like it didn't happen. Many voices of every age and gender echoed in his mind like an abyss of darkness. The bright lights from above made his vision go into a flashing spiral of white lights. He squinted more than fives times, but the lights made his head throb into a pain. A hand came down on his shoulder, and a single eye with purple hair looked at him, their face flushed with concern.
"Are you okay?"
He groaned a bit, realizing it was Leela. "Yeah, I-I'm fine." He stuttered out. Beelzy then ushered the female to go and have fun with the other one while he get drinks, to his surprise, she went with the lie. As she was now out of the picture, disappearing into the crowd of white, suburban families and other races, he turned his back. A gasping inhale came from him, the queasiness from his stomach now in pain. His arms now embracing his own body like a hug. Clenching his eyes, his legs bent until his knees were at an uneven angle. His insides felt like a creature was rearranging them. The Robot Devil's teeth grinded a bit, his breathing now rapid.
He wanted to swallow the saliva in his mouth that was going to overflow his mouth, but his stomach protested that it was going to up-chuck. His mind was now in a flurry blur of hard, depressed thoughts. Did Francis kill himself? Did he move away from everyone he loved? God, was he even alright? His lungs burned and his heart was in a race for survival. His eyes—pupils contracting to a tiny black dot that only a pencil could made out. He felt like a million little beady eyes were staring down at him, glaring with disappointment as their irises stared like cameras. Each one, every angle, just staring at him.
His back arched in a painful position as he screamed into the dark sky, his voice been holding up their privilege to use their high volume for this moment. He screamed into the sky like a person who learned about their existence; he screamed into the sky like lightning struck with an infinity volts of electricity; he screamed into the sky...like he had been given Death's touch.
hunching back to the ground, his breathing heaved, his face wet with tears that dripped to the dirt ground, creating dark spots. His voice shut down, all that were to be heard was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Beelzy thought for a second that the people around him were going to be murmuring some hissing whispers of non-chalant sayings. But were the opposite. Slowly straighten his posture, he looked around, scanning the carnival to see that no one was there; it was deserted. All of the sudden, there used to be people, now it was just only him. No Leela, no Amy, no little kids running, no adults or carnies, just abandoned booths and empty rides that completely stopped their tracks and motors. He was the only one. But from far away, just outside the entrance to the carnival, was a bunch of cars all in many rows.
Where had everybody gone?
The sky was now a mix of black and blue, all that was left for light was the floodlights that were seen mostly in stadiums. A cold breeze fluttered in the wind, slapping the red metal of the Robot Devil with an icy sensation as he folded his arms and shivered—eyes closing as he did so. As he stopped his shivering, his eyelids flashed open to a...thing just a few yard away from him.
What the fuck...?
Standing between the alleyway of the funhouse and a red-and-yellow carnie tent stood a dark, shadow-like figure. Taller than the average man, the figure was in a hauntingly way perspective of a shape of a human. It just stood there, no light was bouncing off of it, as if its color was the darkest of black. The figure's "head" had two white lights, resembling eyes—and only white lights, no irises or pupils. Just fucking white. Beelzebot's body was trembling in terror, not knowing what this thing might do to him, possibly kill him?
With a sickening, audible crack, a hand was over his mouth as the shadowy figure cocked their head at a gruesome ninty-degree angle, taunting the red robot that it was interested in him. Its eyes just looking like white lights. With a quick movement, it put its head back in the same angle it was before. Robot Devil felt his stomach turning backwards, warning him that it was going to be messing with him. Suddenly, the shadows lower half split in the middle, mimicking legs, one of the shadows legs took a calm step. Beelzy's "fight-or-flight" mode switched itself to "flight."
As Beelzy was trying to take fasting steps, his ankles were being pulled back to the ground. Looking down, a black sludge appeared from the ground, wrapping themselves around his ankles in order to stay where he was at. He whimpered as he managed to kick some of the sludge off of him. For some reason, each step he took was almost like each of these steps activated the black slime to submerge from the ground. The couple steps he took from before with the black substance mimicking his footprints, it was floating upwards, appearing in balls of itself.
The shadowy figure was coming closer and closer to him as he was now struggling, his sanity on the edge. The sludge was now much stronger, pulling him by the ankle as he tripped and fell to the ground, crying out as he fell to the earth. His front body falling to a pile of straw. More of the black substance wrapped his other ankle around, gripping it with force. Once more, tears were falling down his face as the figure was now more than five feet away from him. He tried to pry off the sludge from his ankles, but more of it shot out and wrapped itself around his wrists, too. He struggled more and more, his arms aching while the figure was now standing still in front of him, looking down at the horned robot whose ankles and wrists were now touching each other.
"What do you want?!" Beelzy cried out in a shriek. "I don't have anything!" His throat burned and ached, his legs growing numb and his fingers clenched tightly, drawing oil. The dark figure cocked his head once more, a rumbling was heard and the figures sides splits into two, resembling arms. The stubs then split into five digits, each one of them sharp to the tip. The figure then hunched itself so their white eyes looked at him. Tears drenching down his face, already wanting to wake up to Francis. The figure's expression was unreadable, since it had no mouth or anything related to humans that could make out feelings. The shadow's hand was now being lifted, its fingers curled. Beelzy's pupils were now in a panic, being a blur of a point of black. The shadow's hand was then beginning to grow closer to his face...his eyes closing tightly...
Leela's hands shook his shoulders in a violent way. "My God, Beelze! Are you okay?!" His eyelids fastly drew open, landing on a worried-as-shit mutant, her monoeye being strained. The shadowy figure wasn't there anymore, people were back and there was no more black sludge bounded to his wrists and ankles. People in large crowds had their eyes set in concern on Beelzebot. Little kids hugged their parent's legs in fear. His breathing was in a rapid pace, his pupils darting left and right, wondering what the fuck just happened.
"Beelze! Are you okay?!" Leela repeated.
Lurching to the right, his mouth spewed out a red-orange liquid-y substance that reeked of hot bile. Exclaims of disgusted groaned of little kids were heard as one of them cried out, "Ew, Mommy! The robut puked!" His stomach hurt as he did so, the vomiting lasted for a good fifteen seconds, recovering with a few coughs and a large puddle of stomach contents. His hand slapped over his mouth, eyes filled with embarrassment and shame that came out in tears. Another wave of nausea washed over, a round of upchucking came and threads of it sprayed. A hand of Leela's came down on his back. Beelzy immediately shot up from the ground, clutching onto Leela he broke down right then and there.
Hot tears drained his face, heavy sobs came from him. He felt so guilty, guilty that he never stood up and say anything on why he wanted to leave, or guilty on why he could've told Leela the truth on why he wasn't fine when he told her he was fine. God, he wanted to tell the mutant what he saw that made everyone just look at him, but his voice was now being used for crying. When the sobbing lessened, he looked up at the female.
"L-Leela, please...I-I-I need to know i-if Francis okay..." he sniffled, "I'm worried...worried as shit...I-I n-n-need to leave, now..." He never felt sorry that he used a vulgar word, he wasn't the kind of machinery that swore, but it felt right to say that. With a small "Okay," Leela got him off of his knees, trembling furiously as the crowd split for them to move. Beelzy could already hear whispers, whispers like: "God, I hope he's okay."
"Looks like he suffered a panic attack."
"Panic attack? More like a nervous breakdown."
"I was scared on the screaming, didn't know what was going on, now I know why."
The Robot Devil's hand ran through his forehead, sighing through his nose as that memory repeated itself like a broken record. He looked over his side—the two Border Collies had been nodding off, now were passed out on the couch, bellies in the air on their backs. Beelzebot was a bit glad that they were asleep, so that way they didn't have to worry on why he looked so distant. The laundry basket was now empty, in his hands was the last clothing that he picked up. A grey hoodie that he had been clutching on to without his knowledge, the fabric now wrinkled. He sniffled, his inhale collecting dust and other allergens and he sneezed. No sudden movement was on the dogs. Another memory flashed once more.
Just an hour after Beelzebot's nervous breakdown, his blood-red fist pounded the door profusely. Leela stood by him in a supportive way, her green coat clenching on her. The Robot Devil's eyes were a bit red due to his excessive crying, on the hurried drive over here. Leela stopped at some mini bodega and gotten him a small water just to wash out his mouth, he still had the taste of the vile vomit in his mouth. Amy insisted that he should take it slow—even after the incident with the breakdown.
He ignored the Asian female's suggestion a little while now. His fist now sore, there was obviously no answer, but the lights in the living room were on. Two thoughts came to mind: one was that he was so depressed and tired that he went to sleep without bothering to turn off any of the light; two was that he was awake, just not answering the door—and tuning out the person pounding their fist at the door.
Simply rolling his eyes, he gripped the doorknob, unaware and surprised on how the knob easily turned—it wasn't locked. Opening the door, the glow of the living room's light illuminated itself from the ceiling to the wall and on the floor. There was a sound—a sound coming from the living room. Looking over back at his shoulder, Leela gave him her best "you-can-go-without-me" smile. Sighing, he faced back to the house and turned his body where the light was coming from. Francis was there on the couch, wearing a grey hoodie that was over his head and his eyes...looking ever so tired. God, he looked ever so horrible; he was like a skeleton, dark circles on his eyes, tired energy, and most of all—looking severely depressed. As he got more turned to the corner, he saw that the bronze unit wasn't alone either.
There was four people in the room—all of them humans to be exact. As he focused more, he saw that the people were in different age ranges. One of the four people appeared to be a man in his late-fifties, grey hair and a mustache, his arms had white fur that coated his gold Rolex. The man had his hands entwined and under his chin, looking so sorrow. And forgotten to mention—the old man was sitting in a chair in the far corner of the living room, somewhat close to the hallway. In the other corner stood a woman the same age as the man, her tight golden locks had many layers of paleness and a few greys and white sprouting, wearing a purple sweater and baggy jeans and pearl earrings that sagged a bit. Standing and leaning over the couch was a young man, his brown hair seeming slick and soft and a somewhat muscle-toned body. And last but not least was another woman, same age as the other younger male, a bit gothic with hair black hair dyed with purple stripes and leather boots with a T-shirt that had a black skull with a desert flower on the skull's head.
The old man noticed the horned robot peeking out the corner of the hallway, neither surprised or dismayed. A swallow of nervousness was from Beelzy. The man looked over at the other robot who sat on the couch and pointed his thumb at the red robot. "Is this your partner here?" The white man simply questioned, Francis looked up, tired eyes settling on the red robot, and surprisement masked the depression.
He got up, his arms shaking a bit and almost ran over to the horned robot, clamps digging into his arms. "O-Oh, Beelzy..." the bronze robot whimpered, "I-I'm sorry, you didn't want to see t-this..."
"Does he know the truth yet?" The man asked, the older woman scolded at him.
"Gerald! Don't push him!"
"I'm just asking, Lynn." Gerald simply replied to Lynn, who stubbornly crossed her arms and turned away.
"Wh...Francis, what's going on here?" Beelzy asked, looking around the humans, they all exchanged looks of various concern.
"So he doesn't know," the young goth girl claimed.
"Explains," the young male said.
The young goth woman then patted a empty seat on the couch, looking at Beelzebot. "You should sit for this. It's...important to listen." She hesitantly said, looking at unease. Confusion stirred inside Beelzy as he went over to the couch and sat on the offered seat, Francis returning to his original spot on the couch. Already, he knew the name of the old man and woman—Gerald and Lynn. He was now guessing that the younger male and female were adult children of Gerald and Lynn.
"I'm Jenny," the goth woman introduced, "that other person is my brother, John." Jenny said, pointing her finger to the muscle-toned male.
Gerald rested his arms on the chair's, his fingers curled on the nub of the arms. "You are aware of Jewel, right?" That name..."Jewel"...it was now a echo in Beelzebot's mind. He sublty nodded. "We're her uncle and aunt and cousins. We are already guessing that Francis here already told you about her abuse, correct?"
"Y-Yes..."
The senior man inhaled. "When Jewel was thirteen, her parents died in a tragic accident. Hover truck swerved into the road and flatten their car. Bloodbath in the road, my God. She spent a cruel, two weeks in the foster system before we were even noticed of her. Foster system messed her up real good: bullying, staff treated poorly, kids starved with no clean clothes and wearin' the same shit everyday. Almost half of the staff facility were either perverts or chomos. It was a God awful shit-show to even see for fifty cents; and that'll by ya a stick of gum back then. Me and Lynn got her out of there in a instant and took her home with us. Gotten her clean and fed and put in a warm bed.
"Two days later, Jewel complains of a sore stomach and throws up on a stack of cakes. Jenny and John were at school that day, we kept Jewel home until we got her school stuff together and organized. Lynn thinks its a stomach bug and we shouldn't feed 'er anything but grapefruit juice and a ton of pink shit—Pepto-Bismol. Hour later, I check up on her to see her in a fetal position, groaning like a kick in the balls. Immediately, I pull back the covers and guess what I see?" The Robot Devil didn't do anything but swallow, he wanted to protest that he didn't want to hear this, but his mouth felt like it was glued shut. Gerald them answered his own question.
"I pull 'em back and see a large puddle of blood where her nether regions were, and in that puddle was a small, weird-lookin' thing. I shout down the stairs for Lynn to call the ambulance and get the kids out from school. Ambulance came in a instant and took her away. We're in the waiting room for a stiff few hours waitin' for what was going on for Jewel. Two people came out—one was a gynecologist and the other one was a police figure. Turns out, on the first day of Jewel's foster sytem, janitor molests my niece and gotten 'er pregnant, the little weird-lookin' thing was a two-week fetus that had been miscarried. I was mad—pissed off even, that foster care didn't do anything to stop this. Though, I was mature enough to know that buildings like those are more messed-up than a Southern police station."
Beelzy could feel the bronze unit next to him vibrating, neither in a good or bad way. He looked in the corner of his eye, seeing that the unit was having trouble being looked at. Lynn stepped in to continue Gerald's talking.
"So that was when our niece met Francis' father, Adam, when she was thirty. She was very happy when she met him—"
Francis snapped, "But I wasn't!" He hissed, making Beelzy jump and look at him. Each word Francis spat was laced with poison and hatred. Realizing that he yelled, Francis looked away, filled guilt and just kept himself silent. His arms crossed afterwards. Slowly, tears begin to fall down his face, he could already feel a ghostly hand run down his arm...through his side...slide down his thigh then stop itself, before moving towards his crotch. Fuck, he was fourteen when the rape happened for shit's sake!
xxxXXXxxx
Francis came home at four in the afternoon that day, he had spent an additional two after school hanging out with a couple of his friends. Today as he quoted was "The best day that happened." In the beginning of his school day, he was selected to be in a play that had to do with Robin Hood. He had signed up to be in that play from three weeks ago, totally forgot about that, and his mind had been set for different things. When the director came into the classroom late afternoon at one, he seemed like a pretty nice guy, Latino Francis expected. Possibly gay. But not in a bad way, oh, no. He saw the director come in with papers, announcing in a queer vocal voice about who had gotten the roles of Robin Hood. As to his surprise, Francis had gotten in the leading role as Robin Hood himself.
So, after school, he met up with a few after-school and in-school buddies to an arcade after the final bell rang. The arcade always smelled good, cotton candy and metallic stench, and not like one of those arcades that reeked of pizza. For a good two hours, Francis gotten a shitload of tickets just from this one game he was the best at—even friends say so. The game had been here since he was eight when his pals introduced it to him: Terminator's Revenge. It had a story on how the Terminator had a family but they gotten killed from this interdimensional spy agent, so the Terminator got to travel in different timelines in different universes. The graphics were a bit low-quality only because it was 8-bit. But it wasn't bad for the most part.
Francis was pretty glad that he'd gotten out with friends to spend with, also a bit happy that at least it was Friday, which happened to be Jewel's last day of visiting him. The young bitch had been drinking twice as much from before, as always, his dad never thought about it being serious. Jewel always used the same words and phrases she had always used in front of him. Yesterday, she muttered something like, "Ungrateful walking piece of shit" while filling up her fifth glass of wine in the kitchen. Francis and his dad were playing video games in the living room, which happened to show the kitchen, Francis knew what she meant. And that ungrateful walking piece of shit happened to be him.
As he opened the door to his house, the tickets he won from the arcade were on his outside pocket of his backpack, Francis announced: "Dad! I'm home!"
Adam walked out of the kitchen, wearing an apron that had stains of flour along with pulling off a pair of oven mitts, and approached his son. "Hey kiddo! How was school?"
"Great, Dad, I got a leading role of—"
"Ah, before you say anything, gotcha somethin'." Adam then reached from in front of the couch and took out a small present and handed it to Francis. It was a small box that had pearly-white paper and a red bow. Francis simply pulled back the bow and lifted up the lid of the box. In it, revealed a Swiss Army knife, in its natural form.
"Wow! Thanks, Dad!" Francis claimed, getting the knife out of the box and feeling it in his clamp. It felt weird—but in a nice way—having an object in his clamp that felt so right. His eyes sparkled in amazement that his dad happened to get him something that he always wanted for Christmas or his birthday—and it was somewhere in between.
Adam laughed and patted his shoulder. "Glad you love it, son. I can always tell you wanted something that amazes you the first look of your glance." Francis then looked around and saw one thing that was missing: Jewel. His dad then returned to the kitchen.
"Hey, um, Dad? Where's Jewel?" He called out, cautiously looking around for the blondie.
"Upstairs in my room having a nap; don't bother her, please!" Adam called out, then adding, "Also, wash up for dinner. We're having chicken pot pie."
Okay, so the bitch was still here, but not for long when she leaves after dinner, thank God. Also, another thank for God that it was Friday, so no homework plus a three-day weekend. Francis went up the stairs and got to his room, settling his backpack down on the bed before making his way to the bathroom, quickly washing his clamps with soap and drying them off with a small hand towel. Going back to his room, he had settled his Army knife down on his slanted desk, putting on the light from his lamp and begin to examine it. The knife was multi-purpose, so it had so many things that Francis could name in under a minute.
Being careful with the pocketknife, the first thing he saw was the small blade. Steel and small, but sharp. Turning it, the lights shined it and made it do a beaming glare on the blade. He wanted to try something out with it, perhaps maybe when Adam took him fishing to camp there and gut a fish to cook on a open fire. He could already feel a tingle of excitement vibrating inside him. He body then stiffen when he heard the sound of footsteps being echoed in the hallway. Thinking it was his dad to check up on him. He turned his chair.
"Again, Dad, thanks for the prese—" As he looked around his chair, it wasn't his dad that he was talking to.
Jewel stood there at his door frame, the young, white blonde looked pretty drunk. As a fact due to her hair all matted and messy. Her usual crop top and pink pants were replaced by only a black sweater and some shorts. Her makeup was on her face as always, still not messy. Her bare feet planted on his rugged floor. Now he could see why Adam said that she was napping, more like going on a scavenger hunt for his booze and rum. She looked at him, and his Francis' shock, she smiled at him, her white teeth beaming.
"Heeeeey, sweetie," Jewel greeted in a small, calm voice, her balance a bit tipsy. She then did a small "Hic!" before continuing. "Whatcha got there?" Francis looked back at his Swiss Army knife, the blade still out and gleaming in light.
"Oh, um, it's nothing, really, Dad gave me a Swiss Army knife for me as a present." Francis explained, feeling a bit odd that Jewel was acting so nice and questioning his gifts and what else she might ask. But of course, he knew it was just the alcohol that was making her feel all friendly, so he practically just ignored it. He knew that whenever Adam was around between him and Jewel, the young blonde would act so sweet and innocent at him, but when he wasn't, the mental abuse always resulted into him not feeling anything and got up to his room and cry out in anger and frustration.
Jewel stumbled more in his room, her doozy eyes looking left and right for her feet to step. After walking a few feet from the door frame to his desk, she leaned over with her hands on her knees and looked at the Army knife. Francis was still in his chair when she leaned in, he suspected that she wasn't wearing a bra over that black sweater, as he shoulder felt something small and hard from where her left breast rested on his shoulder. Which to him was very uncomfortable to be the least of saying.
Straightening herself and having her breast removed off his shoulder, she placed a hand on his should and made his chair turn to face him. Leaning forward once more to look at him, the bronze unit couldn't help but do a nervous chuckle, in which, Jewel frowned at. "Francis, you know what sex is, right?"
Francis swallowed, a bit uncomfy at the question. "U-Um, yeah, I know what it is." A sniff was heard from Jewel.
"Well, you see, your father hasn't fullfill my needs and wants. When it comes to sex, I need dick. But apparently, your dad has a slight problem with his...you know. Thing?" Jewel explained. Francis felt way too uncomfortable at this. He never wanted hear Jewel claiming on how his dad can never please her bed. This situation felt awkward. He needed her to stop.
"Listen, Jewel, I-I don't think I need to hear this..." Francis tried to say, but her grip on his shoulder grew tight, making him wince in pain a bit.
"Don't disagree with me, sweetie, it's best for you and me. I need things—want things. And I'm going to get those things when I need them."
Her grip was now painful, her nails digging into his metal, he cried out, "J-Jewel, please! You're hurting me!"
With her hand in a surging move, she grabbed his Swiss Army knife, the blade still out, and the knife was close to his throat. Francis' cries were cut short, feeling his own present up against his larynx—the same present that his father gave him. Her face...was so expressionless, there was no feelings beneath that mask of alcohol. His door was wide open, his throat burning in wanting to shout for his dad for help and keep control of his girlfriend, but the blade was so sharp that it can cut even through the slightest movement.
Jewel's foot stretched itself so her toes touched the door and shut itself with a slam. Pushing the blade closer to his throat, she did her first order of rape: "Now then, since we're going to be here with interruptions, you might as well follow what I say and you'll be unharmed. If you try and do something shitty and stupid, I'll have this blade slit your throat; making you dead as a corpse." She then stood up, her arm and hand with the Army knife not moving away from Francis' throat. "First order of business—get yourself up and ready...or I'll be doing it."
xxxXXXxxx
Tremoring violently, Beelzy looked over and saw his boyfriend shivering like a cold mule. "Francis, are you...?"
The bronze unit shot up from the couch, tears streaming down his face as he screamed out into the whole living room. "No! I'm not fine, okay?! I was fucking raped by that bitch!" He broke down, sobbing. "She...She did that to m-me...made me feel so wrong...r-r-ruined my life..."
Lynn held her breath, she slowly approached him, like a activist trying to get ahold of a small, frail injured rabbit. "Francis, I'm so sorry that my niece did that to you, her mind was sick. What she did was wrong—" Lynn laid a hand on his shoulder, the same shoulder that Jewel gripped on to when she molested him. Painful...and strong...All he saw was Jewel's hand on that shoulder.
"Get...the fuck...away from me..."
"I'm sorry, sweetie, what—"
"I said..." He raised his voice with each word he sounded out. "Get...the fuck...away from me!" He backhanded her hand away from his shoulder, harshly turning his head to face away from her as he did mutters. "She fucking ruined my life!...Why? Why? Why?...I-I-I wasn't straight at the time...I repeatedly told her to stop..." It kept repeating—the mutters, the references of rape, the cold shudders of PTSD. Repeating itself like a broken record paying the same note. Beelzy took a step, wanting to get closer, but Jenny's arm stretched itself so it would block him.
"Don't." Jenny warned. "It's just going to be worse if you do anything by yourself."
His mind was strong enough to put that nightmare-like memory on pause, throwing down the towel and made his way into the kitchen. Getting himself a wine glass, Beelzebot opened up a freshly bought bottle of white wine. Normally, he didn't drink, but he needed spirits to numb both his and the share of Francis' pain. Ignoring the measurements and rules of how much wine should be in a glass, he poured somewhat pass the half-full line. With no hesitation, he downed his first glass and poured himself a second one in such a matter of hurry. Though, he stopped halfway in the air and just put the wine glass down, rubbing his temples and muttering in colorful words why these memories were free from there box of abandonment.
In all of his life, Francis never mentioned in their relationship that he was raped...by a woman. And that woman was Jewel, his quote-unquote "stepmother." It was pretty clear that that night, Francis suffered from extreme Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Lynn's hand on his shoulder must've triggered it. Jewel's uncle and aunt and her cousins stayed by him all night, while Beelzy himself was trying to tune it out by watching Rom-Coms or maybe Horror. Nothing could drown out the noise of crying and frustration. But Jenny—Jenny made herself clear that Beelzy shouldn't bother him until further notice that evening. But Beelzebot hadn't bother him for a whole fucking month! And seeing him for the first time ever since that month was probably the worst.
Rubbing his tired eyes, his head tilted upwards, looking out towards the window. It seemed like a nice view, showing off the sun settling in its blanket of mountains, and clouds bellowing over the top of the glowing ball of light. This was a utopia of happiness; the memories were just things of dystopia. Sure, he was ruler of Robot Hell, and dystopia was many things that happened in that place. It seemed as if it followed him around everywhere he'd go. He was so sick of it. Another wave of pain surged once more, the Robot Devil turned his head away from the sun, eyes not making contact once more. He got away from the window, now back in the lit shadows that seemed to capture the sun's illumination of light and use it as a now-found light. Swallowing, he chugged down his second glass of wine, his eyes then bulged as he choked on it halfway down his throat.
Sputtering, his pounded his chest and coughed harshly, immediately putting down his glass and cough out the bitter liquid. Now able to breathe again, he took deep breathes but still continued to cough now and then. Another memory flashed once again, this one not being grim.
Two weeks after Francis' PSTD trigger, Jewel's uncle and aunt were able to get him a therapist. She was this beautiful Asian along with a few mixes of Swedish, German, and Baltic. Though, she sounded quite well-learned, so maybe part British. Her last name was German, too, what was it?—Barmherzigkeit, correct? Yes, that was correct. Francis had been going to his sessions for a good three days a week type of thing, not once missing it. Dr. Barmherzigkeit was very easy to understand, she wasn't the type of therapist that recommended drugs, she was rather the type that'll try their best in order to eliminate the patients problems with success. Unlike other therapists, she was this upbeat and cheerful woman that had a happy marriage with three young kids. Originally, she used to have three girls only, the oldest one came out as transgender, so she had two girls and one (trans) boy.
Beelzy had also came in for a few sessions to support Francis no matter what. He had seen what she was like, so he trusted her into doing the right thing. So in other words—finding a therapist sure did change Francis' life.
It was within a few weeks (the second month of him visiting Dr. Barmherzigkeit), was when Francis revealed to her on how to his ex's side of the breaking up was a whole lie. He had never had sex with another man until Beelzy came along with his life that he started having sex with him. Looking up from her large yellow paper since she was documenting his words, her green-brown eyes looking like it had a bunch of therapy-like questions. "And how did you feel when he said that?"
"Pretty much broken, I thought that our past relationship was great up until he said that. I guess relationships can be a bitch."
The female did a small and interested "mm-hm" and putted down her binder that had the documents in them. Placing both her hands in a flat shape before closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she pointed her hands towards them. "So, mind if I ask, how is your relationship between you and—I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz, what's your name, sweetheart?"
Beelzebot swallowed. "I'm mostly just called 'Beelze' or 'Beelzy,' is that alright?"
"It's perfect with me." Dr. Barmherzigkeit answered. "So like I said, how is the relationship between you and Beelzy? Any problems that occurred? Fights?"
"No, not that we know of. But that month-long absence I took when I was depressed." Francis mentioned.
"Right, right. And fights?"
"Oh, never, we don't get those." Beelzy said.
The woman recorded his words on document. Though since then, Francis had been taking these therapy sessions for five months, he has been a whole lot better. Since he had been better about his mental health, he had also improved his physical health also. The rest of the eleven months had been days straight of working out at the gym, which had taken a rather, well, nice toll on Francis' body. The manbot had now taken on a nicely toned physical appearance to themself. Francis had a nice structure of abs and a broad chest that maybe a twink could be obsessed with. In other words—he was fucking hot.
Then...there was a second incident.
Beelzebot had noticed that Francis was wearing more clothes than usual, which he thought that maybe it was just a nice cover-up to his new bod, so he left it alone. Two weeks before, Francis went into town to get himself some coffee. Getting coffee was a five-minute drive from his house to the cafe shop. So he was gone for ten minute on tops, but when he left, he was gone for a full hour straight. This pretty much upsetted him, making him a total nagging bitch whenever Francis was gone without telling him what was going on. This happened before, but with Leela when she left to go to the store while Beelzebot lied down on her bed due to a headache. When she came back to her apartment, Leela saw that Beelzy was awake but pissed, scolding on why she left without telling him on where she was at. Afterwards, he calmed down when Leela told him that she didn't want to bother him (he would be very grumpy whenever someone interrupts his naps) and left. Apologized afterwards that she should've known better to leave a note next time.
After a whole hour of just straight-up waiting and thinking of a response or comeback, Francis came home with not only a ice-blended latte, but a large bag of dry dog food. Great, now he felt bad if he scolded out about him being late. So he might as well not be a bitch and just say to himself that Francis was late only because he just went to get dog food. Canines did needed to be fed, it would be just cruel and abusive not to.
Putting aside the subsided anger and some frustration in his tone, he welcomed back the bronze unit to his house, and then he saw it. The front of his tank top rolled up a bit on the hem, tucked halfway in where the waistline was, is a gauze pad with tape attached to the metal. Weird, and a bit confused but also suspicious, he then immediately wanted to say something about that. Did he hurt himself above the crotch area? If he did, then he'll see a leaking spot of oil, but in this case, there was no stain of it. So what was under there?
Francis transported himself from the doorway to the kitchen, once in the other room, he tiredly grunted as he put the bag of dog food slumped next to the counter. Straightening himself, Francis then turned, unwantingly seeing the Robot Devil—arms crossed and a foot tapping.
"Oh. Beelzy. Scared me there for a sec."
"Francis, what's that?"
His face was beyond confused. "What's what?"
Doing an annoyed huff, he pointed a finger where the gauze was. "That."
Looking where he pointed his finger, he just only gave a small, simple answer. "Oh, um, it's practically nothin' special, really. Just a tattoo."
Beelzy looked at him, "So let me get this straight: you were gone for an hour just for not only coffee and dog food, but to get a tattoo?"
"Yeah..."
"Why didn't you just tell me then?" He huffed, already getting on his bitchy side.
"I wanted it to be a surprise," Francis explained, "somethin' that I always wanted to get since I was twenty years old. Though, I never got the chance to until now." He stayed silent for a bit, until he spoke up once more. "Do you wanna see it...? I mean, you don't have to—"
"Just show me it before I boil my metal." Beelzy huffed once more, his foot pacing its speed a bit more.
He heard a small, sharp exhale in response. Francis lifted up the hem of his tank-top, revealing his structured abdomen. He fiddle the bandage a bit, it peeled off, and a cocked eyebrow on his face appeared. Out of all the satanic symbols and messages he knew of, he never recognized this one. It was because for one thing, the St. Peter's cross was mistakenly identified as satanic. This one was bold and black—with the bottom having an infinity sign and having two crosses on top. This cross happened to be the Leviathan Cross—Satan's official cross in Hell's bible.
"It's the cross of Satan," Francis explained after a long moment of silence. "I wanted to get it—for you." He pulled his shirt down, crossing his arms and looking away very much ashamed. "I just thought that because I was dating someone rather...different, I might as well change the perspective of what to show you and..."
"Francis, you didn't have to do that..." Beezly began, "I still love you just the way you are."
"But I wanted to, Beelze!" Francis turned, making sharp contact with him. "You've done so, so much for me a-and I wanted to do something for you back. And—"
"Francis!" He scolded out, which shutted up the bronze unit, looking at him with a stern expression. Then, he began to giggle, then that giggle turned into a laugh. He quiet down then said, "Just shut up already, you big goofball."
WOW! This chapter was unexpectedly long!
But also, you now got to see Francis' backstory a bit more. His "stepmother" was suppose to almost look like Umbriel—Fry's mermaid girlfriend in the episode "The Deep South", you also got to see that Francis was never a virgin at all! Poor Franny...I never wanted him to get raped...
Before this message ends—I wanted to say really quick that I'll update my profile because I recently discovered that not only I'm a lesbian and identify as bigender, but I'm also polyamorous and genderqueer.
Read and Review! More chapters coming soon my lovelies! ❤