WARNING: Vague attempted suicide / broken bones / heavy rape / emotional trauma

Summary: Waiting on Rukia, Uryuu's paranoia once more tries to get the upper hand on him, but with Rukia just a text away, he manages to assure himself everything will be alright. So when Ichigo once more makes an appearance, Uryuu finds himself spiraling into a world of agony; and into his own shell.

~.X.~ ~.X.~ ~.X.~ (Uryuu's POV)

Uryuu had to busy himself to keep himself from watching out the window. Rukia would get here when she got here, and he just had to be patient. To do so, he found himself tiding up the bedroom again. He folded up all the blankets previously on his bed and shoved them under the mattress, yanking his hand out of the shadows that tried to grasp his arm before he was done. Still feeling their slimy texture against his skin, Uryuu gave a panicked glance to the bathroom door. He needed to get rid of it, but... what would Rukia say if she walked in on him like that?

He'd just have to hide it, Uryuu determined, as he felt the shadows trying to grasp at his feet, too. Swallowing back the bile that rose to his throat, Uryuu took off for the bathroom, throwing the covered cabinet wide and grasping for the razor, heedless of how it cut into his fingers. He sat down on the floor and automatically brought the razor to the flesh on the back of his hand, opening a clean, straight line. More controlled than the lines before, deep enough to scare off the shadows, shallow enough that it wouldn't bleed through too many wrappings. But it was enough.

With a sigh of relief, Uryuu felt the feeling recede, and he proceeded to do the same to the backs of his feet, to make himself presentable again. It was while he was finishing his last foot that he heard Ryuuken leave for work. Hope filled his heart, knowing Rukia could only be a few minutes away. Quickly, Uryuu rose to his feet, flinching at the new pain, but quickly recovering. He went back to the cabinet and placed the razor on the shelf when he heard the door open and close again.

Had Rukia let herself in?

That was strange. For a moment, Uryuu stood in front of the covered mirror, frowning at a reflection he couldn't and didn't want to see, and listened for noises in the house. When none came, he tried to shrug it off as if it had only been his imagination. Rukia wasn't here yet. With a quiet sigh, Uryuu fished out some bandages and set to wrapping his hand and feet, so Rukia wouldn't think much of the marks beneath. He wanted her to hear him out, not stare and make more of something that wasn't anything to begin with.

As he finished his wrappings and put away the bandages, Uryuu's ears thought they heard shuffling downstairs, but as soon as he held his breath, listening intently for the same sound, it was gone. Letting out his breath and dragging in another quick, short one, Uryuu tried to reason with himself. There was no one in the house. He was waiting on Rukia to come over. He was all alone. He could wait. He would be fine.

The hairs rising on the back of his neck begged him to consider otherwise.

He could feel the hysteria coming back, making his entire body tremble and his forehead become slick with sweat. Ichigo was here. Ichigo had found out, killed Rukia, and was here to rape and possibly kill him for disobeying orders. Uryuu's knees gave out for a second, pitching Uryuu forward toward the door of the bathroom, and he grasped for the handle, hanging on the door as it swung open. His eyes widened, his vision shaking as he expected to see everything painted orange, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

His room was empty, and his bedroom door was still closed. The window was still locked. Everything was as it should be.

Straightening his legs, Uryuu forced himself to take a deep breath. This fear was crippling, giving him panic when he shouldn't be panicking. Uryuu tried to remind himself Rukia would help, but it only went so far to calm his erratic heartbeat. He desperately needed to regain his grip on reality, but every time he thought he had it, it would slip right through his fingertips again. Uryuu's lips pulled into a hard grimace as he forced himself to stand and let go of the bathroom door handle.

There had to be some way to get control of the situation. Some way... Uryuu's eyes lit when he thought about the phone still sitting on his dresser. That was perfect; he could text Rukia and see where she was. That would still the worries creeping up on him. With a frantic but desperately controlled step, Uryuu moved to the phone and instantly texted,

'Rukia?'

He sat down on the bed gently, lifting his feet off the floor so the shadows couldn't get to him, and waited.

A few seconds later, he heard a buzzing from the floor below him, and instantly the hairs on the back of his neck rose again. There was someone in his house. A fresh wave of panic doused him like a bucket of ice water, leaving him shaking in his own skin all the same. His grip on the phone became even tighter, his knuckles turning white from the strain as Uryuu's eyes shot to his door. It was locked, thankfully, but would that stop Ichigo? Would it be enough?

Startled out of his panicked thoughts, Uryuu jumped and threw his phone at the floor when it vibrated in his hands. He watched as the phone snapped open, its back popping off and the battery flying out and skidding across the floor to hit the wall. Panting, Uryuu rubbed his face harshly with his hands, only to grimace when his hands came away slick with sweat. Trying to control the convulsing shudders penetrating his body, he wiped his hands on his pants and lowered himself off the bed and onto his knees, crawling as quietly as he could over to his phone.

Rukia had texted back. Uryuu tried to laugh at himself, but it was too pathetic. He was sitting in a locked room, driving himself crazy and Rukia was already there to help him. She probably had texted him, asking him to come downstairs and meet her so they could talk. Of course she wouldn't just let herself into his room. Of course. It was Rukia. Of course.

With shaking hands, Uryuu picked up the phone and its back, and crawled across the floor to retrieve the battery. Once in his hands, he spent a few seconds longer than usual to try and fit the battery in before snapping the back on and turning his phone back on. With a muffled cry at the loud ringer that signaled his phone turning on, he held it roughly to his chest, curled in on his knees in the corner of his room, waiting for what felt like minutes until the loud noise had stopped at last.

Then he sat there for a few minutes more, listening. When he didn't hear anything, Uryuu slowly brought his phone screen into view, and pulled up his text messages. The last reply was from Rukia, making Uryuu sigh with relief.

Of course. Rukia.

'I'm here. Where are you?'

She was looking for him. She was here, and everything was safe now. He was safe. With another breath of relief, Uryuu shakily stood on legs that didn't want to support him. He felt drained, exhausted, and tired, but Rukia was here. He shuffled over to his night stand, depositing his phone where it belonged; there was no need to send another text back, all he had to do was go downstairs and meet her.

He felt dizzy as he turned from the night stand, and the hairs on the back of his neck were still standing at attention, and Uryuu scratched at them with a slight hint of irritation. This was just paranoia. He would get over it soon. The ordeal was done and over with, and had been for a while. He had to pick himself back up and move the hell on already. So with another, steadying breath, Uryuu straightened his shirt, checked the bandages on his hand and feet, and shuffled toward the door, unlocking it, and tossing it open.

The hallway was empty, and Uryuu thought nothing of it. Without bothering to close his door, he started toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, trying to control his eagerness to see Rukia face to face.

He never saw the arm that clothes-lined him at the bottom stair; he only saw orange.

Uryuu heard the air expelled from his lungs forcefully, and something closed over in his throat, making it difficult for him to get his breath back. His mind skidded to a halt even as he dropped unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor, coughing and curling into himself, holding his stomach.

"It's about time."

Uryuu's eyes widened at the voice that struck his ears, chilling every bone in his body. It couldn't be.

"I was gettin' tired of waitin'."

This couldn't be happening. It was done; over... he wasn't supposed to be here!

Uryuu gave a startled yelp when he found himself booted in the side, kicked off the ground and slammed into the wall behind him, before that same foot came down on his chest, pinning Uryuu to the wall and making it more difficult to breathe than it already was. Widened eyes were having trouble focusing on anything but the orange hair that seemed to take up his entire vision, but the yellowed eyes and other-worldly voice weren't helping matters, either.

This couldn't be real...!

"Now..." Ichigo started, sending repetitive shivers down Uryuu's spine with each word spoken, "What did you want to talk to Rukia about, again?"

Uryuu felt like his heart had stopped. Just... given up the uphill battle he'd been fighting and packed it in. He was as good as dead. This was it.

"Well?" Ichigo prompted, raising an eyebrow at Uryuu, but Uryuu couldn't speak.

He could barely breathe past the lump in his throat and the foot on his chest, let alone form words with a tongue that had turned to ice. So he watched with horror when Ichigo's face fell, but he wasn't able to move out of the way in time when the foot lifted off his chest, only to sweep back and kick him into the stairs, where he landed face first on his cheek. He gave another yelp of pain, having bit his tongue on impact, barely missing having the corner of the step jammed into his eye. But then he felt Ichigo leaning over him, sprawled out on the stairs, and warm breath tickled at his ear as he felt tears prickling the sides of his eyes,

"I'm going to break you now. When I'm done, there won't be anything left to tell anyone. So be a good pet and sit still for me."

His body moved without him thinking about it; his legs wobbled as they tried to lift him up the stairs, but Ichigo's hands were already on his trousers, dragging them effortlessly down his legs and tearing them off his feet, his knees impacting on the stairs harshly. Still, his legs moved, trying to get him up the stairs. Despite the pain, he was moving in fear of his life, and managed to sprint up the stairs without further incident, though he knew Ichigo was right behind him. He just had to make it to his room. He could close and lock the door, and Ichigo wouldn't be able to get to him. He just had to make it...

He had just sprinted through the doorway and stopped to turn around when the sight of orange in front of his face made him fall back, landing on his ass even as he tried to kick the door closed. But Ichigo's foot had already stopped the door from swinging closed, and he stepped slowly into the room, like a predator. Once inside the room, he paused, reaching out behind him, and slowly closed the door himself.

Then locked it.

Without ever taking his eyes off of Uryuu.

He could feel the tears threatening to spill over as he crawled backward across the floor, knowing if he tore his eyes away from Ichigo it would mean his end. So he was forced to watch as Ichigo came closer and closer, until he was in Uryuu's face. Uryuu held his breath, hoping that this was just another one of his panic attacks; that he was still waiting for Rukia and was just thinking about what could possibly happen. But Ichigo wouldn't let him entertain the thought.

Uryuu was picked up by a harsh grip on his neck that choked what little air in his lungs out of him, and he found his feet lifted a few inches off the floor. Straining, Uryuu's hands came to Ichigo's, trying to loosen it or dislodge it when he was thrown without care toward the bed, landing roughly on his side. Scrambling, he tried to pick himself up, but Ichigo was there before he had even touched his feet to the ground.

His entire world spun as his body was forcefully twisted onto his stomach, his wrists gripped tight enough to cut off circulation and his shoulders pulled back to where it felt like they were going to be pulled out of socket. Uryuu's heart slammed against his chest trying to find its way out even as Ichigo found his way in, with no preparation. Just a single thrust and he was completely imbedded.

Uryuu screamed.

With Ichigo leaning on his back, his arms pinned, and his feet dangling off the bed, he had no where to go. No way to stop the burning, shattering pain that speared through his entire body, only able to struggle and make the pain worse. Tears soaked the sheets beneath him, and Uryuu buried his head in the bed to drown out the ear splitting sounds of his own voice. He was finding it hard to breathe, but the sudden light headed and dizzy feeling that swept through his body drowned out some of the pain, so he pushed his head further into the bed, breathing in his own heated breath until he felt the entire world wobbling beneath him.

He felt like he was going to slip back into that blessed darkness where the pain couldn't reach him before he felt a sharp pain in his head, his hair being pulled back to raise his face off the bed. Uryuu gasped, unwillingly gulping in a large breath of air that seemed to chase the darkness away. Panicking, he tried desperately to return his head to the mattress so he could reclaim that loss of feeling, only to feel his hair pulled more, several strands being yanked out of his skull. He felt his tears cascading over his cheeks, his mind trying as hard as it could not to focus on the splitting pain ripping him open or the pounding thrusting that was just getting faster and faster...

His breath hitched when he heard a breathy moan from the one above him, only to hear him say coyly,

"Can't have you missing out on all the fun, can I, Quincy-boy? This is gonna be an all day event!"

His last words were emphasized by several harsher thrusts that seemed to shake Uryuu's very core, making him wish for nothing more than to stop the pain. For Ichigo to just disappear from his life and never return, never to be missed, but it seemed even that was too much of a dream for him to have. His thrusting became rapid, less of precise movements and more frantic jerks of his hips that seemed to tear open wounds that Uryuu had thought were already torn; or maybe he was just making them worse. Uryuu was beyond caring, unable to stop the weak whimpers and quiet sobs of anguish that were ripped from his throat like the flesh inside him.

When Ichigo finally stilled above him, Uryuu choked back a sob of relief, hoping that the ordeal was over finally and Ichigo would leave him with a warning. A threat, even; to never speak of this again. He wouldn't: he swore to himself up and down that it was their secret, to never be revealed. So when Ichigo pulled out and away, Uryuu's eyes closed and he waited for the words that never came.

They stayed in silence before a quiet chuckle finally slipped from Ichigo, and Uryuu's body froze. The trembling that had never truly stopped returned with a vengeance, leaving him feeling like he was moving the bed as Ichigo's chuckle turned into a full blown, bone chilling laugh. If it had been any other person, Uryuu would have turned to look at what he was laughing at, but he feared in his soul that he knew the answer already. He was proven right when he felt his shirt ripped from his body and Ichigo's nails come down harshly on the back of his neck, dragging down to the small of his back, cutting open his skin as they went.

Uryuu cried out sharply with the pain that assaulted him, and he scrambled further onto the bed, trying to get away, only to have his ankle caught and his body yanked back toward Ichigo. Frantically he kicked out, trying to dislodge Ichigo's hand, his breath hitching and his mind instantly flashing back to every other time he'd gotten caught by his orange haired tormentor, but he found no purchase. He only heard Ichigo's laughter washing over him as he was yanked further back toward the man, twisted to where he was now on his back on the bed and facing up, toward him. Uryuu hissed in pain as the sheets irritated the fresh wounds on his back, but his eyes widened in a primal fear as orange colored his vision again.

Before he could think, Uryuu felt his legs hiked over his head and pinned with one hand awkwardly to the bed, lifting his lower half completely off the bed and pushing his bleeding back further into the harsh sheets. Uryuu whimpered at the discomfort, but the pain was nothing compared to four fingers entering him roughly, without notice. He screamed again, only raising the pitch of his scream when he felt himself being torn open by nails from the inside again. His body was trembling badly enough that even when he finally managed to grip the hand pinning his legs, there was no strength left in his arms to budge the unrelenting hold Ichigo had on him.

Choking back sobs and screams of agony, Uryuu could hear nothing but the sound of his own voice and his blood thrumming rapidly in his ears. He was starting to get dizzy and lightheaded from the pain and breathlessness, and prayed that this time, Ichigo would accidentally let him slip into that blissful nothingness, but his hope was destroyed when a sudden, harsh slap landed perfectly on his balls.

When he opened his mouth to scream, no sound came out, and for a long moment, he felt nauseated to the point of throwing up. His entire body tried to curl in on itself to protect the now raw and red sensitive flesh, but in the awkward position he was held in, he could do nothing more than look like he was offering himself up for another slap. Which Ichigo gladly gave him.

This time, Uryuu did vomit, barely managing to turn his head in time. The sickening taste of acid and the metallic taste of blood mingled on his tongue as his vision spun and he felt the soft ground give way first to air, then to an unforgiving hardness that cracked his back and hip as he landed on the floor. His dazed mind guessed that Ichigo must have thrown him off the bed, but with the flashes of color around him, it was hard to tell where he was. His ears picked up a crunching sound, like glass breaking, before he heard Ichigo all too clearly,

"Oops. Did you need those, Quincy-boy?"

His glasses. That was why the world had no edges to it; his glasses must have flown off his nose and... Ichigo broke them. Water filled his vision as he lay there, seconds spanning lifetimes before he felt a burning pain in his side, and the world spun again. He heard the crack before he felt it, and when the excruciating pain registered to his mind, Uryuu was screaming even before he hit the wall. His ribs felt like they were on fire, and every breath he took only seemed to make it worse. He couldn't take this... he was going to die here, at Ichigo's feet. He could already feel his grip on reality slipping, what little vision he had left fading when another sharp pain found his scalp, and suddenly, there was no more floor on his ribs.

There was, however, something large and blunt that filled his mouth, slamming into his tonsils and making him gag, wanting to throw up all over again, though his stomach had no more contents to expel. His breath was getting short, coming in short, forced gasps around the offending object filling his airway. His body twitched and jerked without his consent, and his arms flailed with nothing to hit and no strength to hit it with as he was manipulated by his hair, back and forth and back and forth and...

Darkness finally filled his vision completely, but the pain never really went away. It moved to the back of his mind and became less sharp; less aggravating and difficult to deal with, but it was still there. He guessed he was never going to be able to escape it. What had he done to deserve this...? There had to be something...

Was it because he lost his Quincy powers? Was it really because he wasn't strong enough to protect those he cared about...? What had he done...?

Uryuu was lost, a floating mess of pain and trauma and horror and insanity, and the only question he could ask was the only question he couldn't answer. Why?

Why?

Why him? Why now? Why like this?

Why?

He still couldn't answer.

~.X.~ ~.X.~ ~.X.~ (Hollow Ichigo (Shiro)'s POV)

It wasn't until after he had covered Ishida's face with his cum, watching with sadistic glee the way it stuck to his hair and ran down his cheek to drip off his chin that Shiro noticed the faraway look in his toy's eyes.

'What's this?'

Shiro's face lowered into a scowl as he yanked the boy up higher by the hair, making sure to do so roughly, but even that only brought a flinch from the abused body. Not even so much as a whimper. His scowl became deeper as he jerked the limp thing in his hands around, watching as it flopped lifelessly to the tune of his fingers. What the hell happened? One moment he was enjoying watching the boy fumble around aimlessly trying to stop him, making the most arousing noises of pain and fear, and the next... well. It's like he died. That thought stopped Shiro for a moment, and his brows furrowed as he stared hard at Ishida's chest, waiting for the tell tale sign of breathing.

After a few seconds, he found it; barely there, but it was still alive. For now. Instantly his grimace faded into a grin, and he threw the boy at the ground, watching as he rag-dolled on the floor like a cheap toy. Still, he was quiet, and as much fun as Shiro could have with an unmoving target, watching them struggle was most of the fun anyway.

No one took his fun away from him.

Walking leisurely over to the still body, Shiro watched for any sign that Ishida was still mentally with him. It wasn't until he was standing over the body that his irritation with the thing began to spiral. No movement, no sound, no fear, nothing. It was pitiful.

But he was sure he could change that.

Lifting his foot, Shiro brought his foot down with more power than he should have put behind it, crushing three of Ishida's fingers beneath his heel. Whoops. He'd only meant to smash one. Regardless, he felt his grin spreading over his face again when the toy spasmed erratically, even though only a quiet whimper greeted his need for vocalization of agony. It would have to do; it was more to work off of than a lifeless doll, and it was better knowing that the boy could still feel pain.

Because he had a lot more coming to him.