Apologies for this, but...dramatics wreak havok, trauma occurs, tensions run high...
DID I LULL YOU INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY?? Bwahaha, I'm a right trickster.
Can I ever write a story where somebody doesn't get fuxored up like this? Doesn't seem like it. Sorry, Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenix.
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(Vincent)
My mind's a complete blank. Rational thought is nowhere in sight. I'm cornered and being stared down by the bastard that started my whole nightmare. I was never supposed to see this man again. I was to be kept safe from him.
I know what I should be thinking. Scream. Yell. Hit. Fight. Run. Run. Run. Run, dammit. But I can't. Now I'm being pulled away and my feet just stumble along, not cooperating, but not fighting back either.
"I thought we'd have a nice little father-son chat," he snarls as he opens the car door. "Well? Get in." He pushes and I nearly whack my head as I sit. After he slams the door shut, I try to open it again, but it doesn't open. Where's the lock? Please, please let me find it...
"Not fast enough," he laughs and starts the ignition. I pull my knees up to my chest and lean my head down. I feel utterly sick.
"So how's life, Vincent?" he smiles maliciously. "How do you like your new family, huh?"
I turn to look at him and he smacks my head against the window. But I never give him an answer.
The details blur. It's all in slow motion and fast forward at the same time.
It's been a few weeks since I've been allowed outside by myself. Wasn't even supposed to go out alone today. I'd just walked down to the store for a soda and now somehow I'm on the floor, nose pressed into mildewed carpet.
When did we move indoors? Did I try to fight against him? Does it matter? Because I'm here now, and there's nothing to do about it. I thought he hated me. Why does he want me back?
"It doesn't matter how much I hate you. I want to take back what belongs to me. I only want what's mine."
He feeds me lies I've worked so hard to erase from my memory.
"Just like your mother," he hisses. "A worthless, good-for-nothing slut." He pulls me up onto my knees and holds my wrists above my head. "Open your mouth."
I shake my head vehemently. I really, really don't want to.
"I said do it, brat," he twists my right arm, and I know he has no problem whatsoever with breaking it.
I have to decide which would be worse: A broken arm and a fucked mouth, or just the latter. I make my reluctant decision when he turns my arm a little more, threatening to go all the way.
I quickly open my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut as he shoves his dick too far in. I can't breathe. I'm fighting to pull back, gagging to expel him from my throat, but his hand holds my head in place. I get a gasp of air every few seconds, but that's far from enough. He finally comes and lets me fall to the ground so I can finally stop acting like a drowning victim.
The coughing stops and my breathing's getting normal again, but that nasty bitter taste will be in the back of my throat for a long time. Looks like I've been left alone for now. I think I can slide under the bed. Maybe he won't be able to find me here and I'll be able to die in peace.
I remember making Lucy do these things with me. Did it make her want to curl up and die? Did she hide from me, afraid to even breathe for fear of being found? It's a horrible feeling, and I'm a horrible person. I wish I could see her again, hug her, tell her I'm sorry and that I love her... Maybe this is my punishment, because the scary thing is, no matter how sorry I am, I really don't think that would keep me from taking advantage of her. I can't help but wonder if that's hereditary.
"You gonna hide there all day?"
"Yes," I grab at the carpet, but there's really nothing that will keep me from being dragged from under the bed by my feet. My shoes are pulled off and dropped.
"Always such a foolish child," he lifts me to my feet and starts to remove my shirt. "Did you miss me?" He unfastens my trousers and I shake my head no. "Aw, that's too bad. I missed you. Not too much, but a little bit." I brace myself on his shoulders for balance as he helps me step out of my pant legs.
What happened to my plans for revenge? He's supposed to be tied down and helpless. He's supposed to be at my mercy this time. Yet here I am, too afraid to even try and put up a fight. But the reality of it is that my father is much stronger than I am. If I hit, he has no problem with hitting back even harder. Last time I tried to fight much, I ended up with a kitchen knife in the arm. I knew I wouldn't be so lucky the next time.
"Now take these off." I do what he says, sliding my underpants down my legs. They're forgotten on the floor when he lifts me up on the bed and pushes me playfully onto my back and onto the pillows. "Might be a slut, but you're damn pretty..." He smiles at me, unthreatening, like he wants to play and be nice.
I shouldn't like his fingertips skittering up my thighs, but I do. I can't help it. It makes my skin tingly and it makes me shiver a little. They move up to my chest, lightly pinching at sensitive flesh. I lean my head back and close my eyes.
"Do you like that, Vincent?" His lewd grin can be heard in his voice.
"Yes," I answer without thinking. I do like this. I want more of it. For a moment, I forget that this situation is incredibly wrong on so many levels.
He drags his tongue across my stomach, and I'm pulled out of my reverie, giving a surprised yelp. "Hey, that tickles," I tell him.
"Well, you want me to stop?" he laughs, but I shake my head. I feel my cheeks turning hot. I shouldn't want him to continue, but it feels good. If I'm not already, then I am definitely going to hell for letting myself take pleasure from this.
"Does it make you wanna get off?" Yes, yes, oh, yes... He places my hand over my cock and guides me to stroke. His free hand squeezes my balls and occasionally, a stray finger slips down to tease my ass. I can't keep my hips from jerking up off the bed. Can't keep myself quiet when every touch is bringing me closer and closer, till I just can't hold it in anymore.
"You're a dirty little slut, already coming so soon."
I know. I'm sorry. I can't help it. It felt so good.
His fingers slide into my mouth so I can lick my cum off of them.
"Good boy, knowing just what to do..." he whispers heavily against my ear. "Gotta turn around now. Show me that pretty little ass of yours."
But I don't want to. I don't want to be hurt. "No, please," I ask him.
"Oh, come on. Don't start crying," he sighs, grabbing my sides and flipping me onto my stomach. Shit, I've pissed him off and flicked on his mean side. That's not hard to do.
"I'm sorry!" I cry, "Don't be mad!"
"Shut up," he smacks my back end and I cut short any noise of pain it causes. He hits me again when I beg him to at least not do it dry. "Fucking pussy," he curses, searching for some sort of lotion or lubricant or something. "I figured you woulda grown up a little."
The minutes blur again, fast and slow, with the stabbing pain of being fucked like this. My body's much too young to be taken by someone so fully grown.
I turn to look at him, because if I don't move some way, my head will keep bumping into the wall.
"Being such a good boy, Vincent..." His nails scrape my chest, teeth leave deep indentations on my back, fingers press rough bruises into my sides. "You look so good, Vincent. You're a pretty little fuck. Yeah, you're my pretty little fuck, aren't you?" He snatches a handful of hair yanks hard. "Aren't you?"
"Yes! Ah!" As soon as I give him an answer, he lets go. I guess I am his. I don't seem to have much of a choice. We've shifted so that no matter how I try to move, my head still hits the wall.
"Aw yeah, you gotta sweet little ass, so tight... Shit, oh fuck. Fuck yes. Oh fuck yes..." He finally finishes. I don't know how long it lasted, but it felt like forever. He shoves me carelessly off the bed. "Bathroom's over there."
With trembling hands, I carefully clean off the blood and semen from between my legs. My head is foggy and thoughts aren't very even. I splash some cool water on my face. It doesn't make me feel much better though.
Unsteady steps take me back to the empty bed. But I'm not alone for too long. He comes strolling in, half dressed. "How old are you now, Vince? Twelve?"
"Thirteen," I correct him. He shrugs, not caring in the least, and offers me his cigarette. I take it, but realize I have no idea what to do with it, and no desire to learn. I hand it back and he gives a halfhearted laugh.
"You gonna be okay, kid?" he asks after a while.
"Do you really care?"
He sighs at my despondent reply and sits next to me. "You'll be fine. Lay down."
The sheets feel cold as they cover my bare skin. With senses overloaded and emotions running chaotic, I shut down somehow and manage to doze off.
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"Wake up. Get dressed."
My muscles are aching painfully, but I do as I'm told.
"Remember, kid. You tell anyone about this, and I swear to God I'll come after your new mommy and daddy, and your brother too. Don't think I've forgotten about your two boyfriends either. And then, I'll really give you something to cry about. Understand?"
I nod reluctantly as he leads me to the front door.
"I'll come get you when I want you. You'd better get walking now. The sun'll be going down soon."
"But I don't even know where I am." How am I supposed to get home from some place I've never been before?
"Good luck," he smiles and shuts the door.
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There's no recollection of walking back to my house, but here I am nonetheless. Gotta keep on a little bit longer, then I can just go to bed, but I can't keep the sick in any more. On my hands and knees again, the coughing and retching feel entirely torturous. Have I not been through enough today? Is this extra bit of agony really necessary?
At least I'm rid of that bitter nastiness that was forced down my throat, making me ill like any poison would. It's out of me, in the grass now, and if I could get the energy up, I'd take the garden hose and wash it all away. I wipe my mouth on my shirt sleeve and stumble-crawl to the front steps and lay down.
Is this where I give up? I think that's alright.
I press my cheek against the rough concrete. It scrapes at my skin, and I don't think I care much. I fade between reality and lies, and get lost remembering which one's which. The day's events suddenly seem so unreal. It never happened, did it? But then why do I feel so awful?
Mrs. Tuesti is sitting next to me. I wonder when she got there. "Vincent, honey, are you alright?"
No, I've been hurt. I've been hurt so bad. "Yeah. Just got sick." I'm not safe anymore. I'm really scared. "Couldn't wait till I got inside." Everything we'd begun to mend has been ripped wide open again. "Just needed to lay down for a minute." I need comfort in the worst way. "Sorry about getting it on the lawn." I'm not sorry. I'm not sure I can feel anything at all right now.
"Where have you been? At Cid's house?" she asks.
"Yes." No, I've been reliving out my worst nightmare.
"Let me help you inside. We'll get you in bed." She sounds so caring, so concerned.
"No, I can do it." I want your help. I really do. "Think I'm feeling a little better now." That's the furthest thing from the truth.
I find some way inside, into clean clothes and under the covers. I'm careful to hide any bruises or markings that might give away what I need to keep hidden.
"Do you need anything?" Mrs. Tuesti asks, tucking me in.
Yes. Yes, please. Take me in your arms and hold me close. Tell me it was all a bad dream and kiss away the monsters. Make me believe the world isn't such a scary place. Convince me that I am your son, and not the son of some devil. Keep me safe. Don't let me go. Stay here with me, by my side all night. Oh, God. If you only knew what I really need...
I shake my head no. "I'm fine."
More words are spoken, but I'm not giving them much attention. The lights go out. The door closes. I'm left alone.
I almost shove Cid's sweatshirt onto the floor. I stole it from him way back at the lake house and I've been clinging to it at night like its some sort of lifeline. A token of safety to keep the nightmares away. I doubt it can help me anymore though. Especially not tonight. I'm just getting it dirty now with bad thoughts and all the disgustingness I feel. But... maybe I do need it. It's better than nothing.
Reeve comes into the room a while later. He asks me if I'm feeling okay, but I pretend to be asleep. Even with him in the next bed, even though I know he's there, I'm still alone.
My emotions, my heart, my soul, I can feel everything inside me hardening. Fear, lies, anger, hate - all familiar feelings - retake their rightful places, making me feel numb again.
I don't think I sleep at all. I don't think I even move. I haven't bothered with dinner, but I'm not hungry. I wonder how long it takes to starve to death. Maybe it can happen overnight. If I ever do fall asleep, maybe I won't wake up tomorrow.
The sun rises, the alarm goes off, the rest of the household begins their day. But I can't, or I won't. I'm either unable or unwilling to function. Maybe it's a little of both. I don't know which. I don't know, don't care. What does it matter? It doesn't. Nothing fucking matters.
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I love the word "trousers."
Linnsche - I'm happy I made you laugh! But I hope the mad state you were in was a good one, and not a bad one heheheh Sometimes, it just gets to the point where it drives me crazy not being able to come up with something decent, so I want to force words outta me. That's probably a bad thing, eh? So thanks for reminding me to go at my own pace : )
Duelistgirl11 - Wow, I've addicted you! hee! Thanks for liking it! Do you and your boyfriend have a pet Reno too? hehehe : D
TBC, yo!