Silently, Grimmjow sat atop a roof of a neighbor directly across from Ichigo's window. He looked like a hawk the way he stared intently at the smooth and expressionless face of his soul reaper toy. After all, that's what the teen was to him wasn't he? Simply a toy for tormenting and fucking. But if that was all he viewed Ichigo as, why had those three words found their way out of his mouth? What was this burning feeling in the pit of his stomach? It would release strong bursts of heat that seaped through his whole body whenever he caught snippets, not even complete words, just the sound of Ichigo's voice when he spoke in hoarse whispers to his family members.
What kind of pain had Grimmjow caused not only Ichigo, but his family as well? Surely he hadn't told his sisters (Grimmjow had learned of in the past few days of his peeping) what the cause of his bedridden illness was? And his father only knew because he had been the one to tend to the injuries. Shivers, as if a January breeze had slipped from the August clouds, shook Grimmjow's shoulders as he recalled gleaming, silver forceps depositing burgundy-dyed white linen strips into a wastebasket. The disposal bin was placed on the bed next to a supine and naked Ichigo. A deeper, wine-red seemed to have caked along the teenager's inner thighs, like an exotic rust against his contrastingly pale legs.
Had Ichigo told his father who was responsible for his injuries? Grimmjow knew of Kurosaki-san's past in the soul reaping society and would hate to cross swords with the father of three, especially when he was backed with the anger brought on by the deflowering of his only son.
Grimmjow ran a hand through his blue hair, clenching his teeth in frustration. A sharp pain had clamped around his ribs, centered in his chest, the pain brought on by a flashback of the violent rape of three nights ago.
"Ah-ha-AHN!" Ichigo screamed in pain, hands clawing at scarred flesh, down
a definitive chest and sliding down to scratch viciously agaisnt the nothingness
that was Grimmjow's Hollow hole. Tears poured like a faucet from the teen's eyes,
forming rivulets that trailed down pale cheeks into his open, screaming mouth.
"Guh," Grimmjow moaned as the pain increased, coupled now by a new tingling 'pins and needles' feeling along the inside of his Hollow hole. "Fuck! What's wrong with me?"
A loud thud sounding simultaneously with a grunt from Ichigo's open window snapped Grimmjow out of his dark thoughts and directed his gaze to the side of the house where Ichigo should have been sleeping soundly. Peering through the open window, Grimmjow saw he had attempted to walk around his bedroom and fallen onto his side on the floor. Even from the next house over, it was clear how red the teen's face had turned from both anger and embarrassment.
The one sister called Karin ran in followed by her fraternal twin Yuzu, who immediately ran back out of the bedroom to fetch their father. A shift in the breeze blew straight into Grimmjow's face, a hint of salt dancing with the winds. At first, he thought it was Karin crying who was holding her hands to her chest in fists, uncertain how to respond to her brother's situation, but as Ichigo's father rushed into the room and assisted his son back onto the bed, Grimmjow caught in a glimpse that it was actually Ichigo crying. The red-head held the back of his hand against his lips, tears slowly running down his reddened cheeks while his father seated him on the edge of the mattress, legs hanging over the side.
He couldn't watch anymore. It felt like someone was purposefully constricting his ribs as slowly as possible and they were about to snap. Grimmjow took one last longing, somewhat concerned look through the window to catch Ichigo's father wrapping his son in his arms before he flashed to a different part of town, escaping the sight of a loving embrace he'd never share.