Title: Behind Closed Doors
Chapter 8
Word Count: 483

Rating: M!

Pairings: Eventual James/Carlos, with undertones of Kendall/Logan.

Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I do not own these boys… The only thing I own is the plot line and whatever OC's come up. This makes me sad, but oh well!

Warnings: Abuse, implied rape, self-harm
Summary: AU His friends only saw the happy, peppy, playfully crazy him. They never saw the broken, pained, dying him. He wouldn't, couldn't let them. They couldn't know what happened behind closed doors.
Author's Note: I figured that before I post the chapter of confrontation, I should give you all a quick chapter of what's going on with our dear old Carlos! So, yeah. This'll be short and sweet, well as sweet as it can be. Which I guess isn't very much. You know what, nevermind. This'll be short and simple.

Have a great day!

DallieJLovesBTR

Carlos took a deep drag of the blunt and relaxed slightly. He felt good, as good as he could. He felt good because of the drugs, as one could guess, but nothing else was going good for him. He still took the beatings; his father had raped him at least twice a week since the first time. He had a building amount of cuts all up his arms. He would begin cutting his upper chest as soon as he ran out of room, which wouldn't be long if he kept up at the rate he was going. Carlos took another drag and laid back.

Carlos hadn't been showing up to school, he didn't want to show his face. He didn't deserve to show his face, not with the most recent punishments. Whenever he did show up, he sat quietly in a corner and kept his head down, constantly fidgeting with his clothing. Carlos' eyes were often bloodshot from his high, causing him to feel even worse about his appearance, as if the shame that obviously covered his face wasn't bad enough.

He never wore his helmet anymore. There it sat in the corner of his room, collecting dust. It sat there with his hockey stick and jersey and any and all of his other hockey equipment. He just didn't care about hockey anymore, which shocked him. Hockey had been his first and only love.

Carlos took another drag from the blunt and noted that the high was already taking over him.

He sighed and thought about his friends. They must be worried about him. But, truly, he couldn't care less. If they knew… Oh god, if they knew. He could only imagine what they would think of him. He's fucked up. He deserved it, the stupid idiot. I hope he dies. I'll never to speak to the retard again, it's his fault his Papi beats him. Carlos had started to avoid them like they were an illness. He couldn't let them find out, especially not James.

Carlos couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about James specifically finding out terrified him. He wouldn't be able to live on if James were to ever find out just how screwed up he is. It made his heart hurt, it possibly killed him more than the thought of Mateo ever getting the beating for him. It was the worst possible pain he felt. Carlos didn't think he would be able to handle it if the brunette were to ever find out. The god-like figure would never be able to handle him and all his fucking baggage.

Carlos took a final drag and put the blunt by his side, letting the high take over his thoughts as everything changed around him. For the night, he could stop thinking about this, but come tomorrow, it would fill his head again, until the next high came along.

So, yeah. I felt really repetitive while writing that, so I apologize if it was. Hope that was okay! Reallys short, I know. But next will be much longer! Love you all!:):)Review:)

Bonne nuit!

DallieJ