A/N: This chapter made me sick and sad.

Because I don't know if I went too in depth with the details in here or not, I advise only the strongest of stomachs and hearts read this chapter.

If that doesn't apply to you, you have been warned.

This story was inspired by Psychology, so if any of this seems really awful and out of place, then that's why.

It's a long chapter because it's really the climax of the story. And because I do long chapters when summer starts.

This story is no longer Milan's, if you get my drift.

On a happier note, this will be the only time the contents in this chapter are brought up. I'll say that it'll probably be nothing but happier times for our favorite blue kitten.

Enjoy...

We talked about making it.
I'm sorry that you never made it.
And it pains me just to hear you have to say it.
You knew the game and played it, it kills to know that you have been defeated,
I see the wires pulling while you're breathing.
You knew you had a reason,
It killed you like diseases,
I can hear it in your voice while your speaking... you can't be treated.
Mr. know it all, had his reign and his fall,
At least that is what his brain is telling all
If he said help me kill the president,
I'd say he needs medicine,
Sick of screaming let us in,
The wires got the best of him.
All that he invested in, goes
Straight to hell

-The Neighbourhood 'Wires'

I slam my bedroom door closed.

I fucking knew this would happen. I just fucking knew.

I can't be with Starrk.

It's not even that being with him reminds me of my father. It's because I can't forget, and because Starrk means so much to me, I won't let myself forget.

I won't let myself forget how I've been hurt by people close to me, how I still can be.

Starrk's no different.

There was a time when we were close, but he hurt me in ways I can never forget, almost to the point where I'd been anesthetized by it. And I shouldn't be phased by it, but I'd felt this hurt—and had recently been the cause—so many times that it's filled me up and left me broken inside. I wanted to hurt him, too, and I did, but the pain painted across his face each time I saw him gave me no comfort. It just made me feel worse about myself.

Even now, I feel horrible, selfish for leaving him out there to wonder what he'd did wrong, when he'd done all the right things. My response was just wrong.

It hadn't always been this game of cat and mouse with us.

I used to fucking gravitate to Starrk. He owned my heart and soul, but he had no fucking clue.

In class, I bug Starrk again about our project.

It's due in two days and we havn't even started.

He just waves me off and goes back to sleep.

I curse at him and almost get detention again.

After school, I follow him to his car.

He sighs angrily. "Really? Again with this?"

"Yes! We need to get started! I don't want to fail because of your sorry ass!"

"Okay fine! Let's just go to the library then." I get in after him and we drive off. Starrk keeps glancing at his phone while he drives and I feel really unsafe.

"Could you not?" I ask.

"You don't have to be in my car y'know."

"I actually do to make sure we get this project done."

"Whatever." Starrk's usual calm, laid back tone is gone, replaced by one with contempt. I worry a little. Suddenly the car takes a sharp turn, and we are no longer going towards the library.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shout at him.

"Relax. I just need to make a quick stop, and then we'll be right at the library, I promise."

Naturally I protest, but I am silenced when we pull up to a hospital. Starrk hops out and jogs inside. Not wanting to wait here alone, I get out the car and follow him. After he signs us both in, we go up a few flights of stairs. The beeps and hums of machines is all I hear while we walk down the halls. Before Starrk walks into a dimly lit room, he turns around to hold a finger to his lips.

"Hey, Mum." I raise my eyebrow at his pronunciation of the word. "Mum, I'm here." His voice is soft, even softer than usual, if you can imagine.

"Coyote, that you?" I hear an accent. British maybe? Her voice sounds like razorblades. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" A fit of coughs engulfs the atmosphere, making it uncomfortable and sad. "Come here, love!" Starrk moves deeper into the room and I have an urge to follow him, but I'm not sure it's my place. I take the seat in the corner.

I see her. This is Starrk's mother.

Wait, Coyote's mother.

She has shortly cropped blond hair, and eyes the color of overcast, just like his. They glisten when she smiles at him. Her skin is pale, though not as pale as Starrk's.

But he's not the one in the bed.

She's beautiful, reminds me of my own mother.

Starrk drags a chair next to the bed, and leans into his mother's hands. They rake and play in his brown hair for a long time, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour. Just watching makes it seem like forever. It's weird, but I don't judge.

"I got a raise." His voice breaks the comfortable silence.

"That's great honey! I'm so proud of you! You can get those...what is it? Soccer? Those soccer shoes you wanted."

Starrk's face drops into a frown. "Sure," he replies.

"Or maybe you can take me shopping!" She laughs, and at first is beautiful, but it rolls into coughs. She covers her mouth with a cloth. Starrk grabs her hand, and he says something softly but I read his lips.

"Anything you want, Mum."

When she recovers, she wipes her mouth and speaks up again. Red is splattered on the cloth. "How's your dad?" Her hands are shaking.

"He's fine." Starrk answers a little too quickly, as if he doen't want to talk about it.

"He hasn't come to visit..." She coughs. "In a while..." Starrk's clenching his fists.

"He's been really busy lately."

"Oh, alright. Tell him I said thank you again for paying for my treatment." Starrk frowns again.

"Okay."

"I know I must be a burden on him."

"No, you're not. Never."

Starrk climbs into bed next to her. It sinks with his weight. I realize how tall Starrk actually is when I see his feet hang off the bed. He dwarfs his mother, he dwarfs me. He dwarfs everyone for Christ's sake. I wouldn't be surprised if he is taller than his father.

She kisses his head. "My sweet boy."

He looks like a kid as he grasps her hospital gown, sinking lower until he can rest on her shoulder. They speak lowly about things I don't understand, things I'll never understand because I haven't had a proper mother in years. Yoruichi is great, but she's just not...

"Who's that over there?" His mother speaks loudly.

"Nobody." Starrk replies. But it doesn't make me feel bad. He just wants to be alone with his mother, and I can understand that. "Nobody, Mum."

"Come here." I feel the commanding tone in her voice and listen. I stand and slowly make my way over to the dimly lit bedside. "Who are you?"

"Um...I'm Grimmjow...A friend of...Coyote's." I meant nothing by using his actual name, but Starrk glares at me. It makes my chest feel tight.

"Do not call me that." His mother smacks him on the side of the head. I hold back a laugh.

"Oh, come now, Coyote! He's a friend, and he may call you whatever he likes. Sit down, sit down." She gestures to the chair Starrk was previously sitting in. "So how do you know Coyote?"

"...Art class...we're partner's." I can't control my mumbling sometimes.

"Ah, art class!" Her face lights up. "And how does my Coyote behave?" She looks to him, and he looks to me.

"He's really cool." I instantly lie. "He's nice, and always helps me with my assignments." I look at my hands.

"That's my boy." She kisses his head again. "You'll come by again? And you two will bring me a painting won't y—" Starrk's mother suddenly stops. A fair amount of blood spurts from her mouth in a violent cough. Some hits Starrk's face, and his expression turns to a horrified one. Loud beeps erupt in the room, and I back away from the bed, horrified too.

"Mum?" His voice sounds weak, it cracks and shakes as he calls her over and over.

His mother hits a button behind her pillow and moments later nurses and doctors rush in, a few ushering us out. The door is shut and we stand there in silence. Starrk begins to walk out of the hospital and I follow him. He stops at the front desk.

"How do I increase the levels of treatment for the patient in room 493?" The intern at the front desk looks up at him and blushes. She types something into her computer.

"Um, may I ask who is requesting?"

"Her son."

"Well...it's at least $10,000 more than it is now, and the one registered for the payments is—"

"I have his credit card here." Starrk pulls it out of his back pocket and puts it on the desk.

Oh my God, that price is bullshit.

The intern gulps and blushes deeper. "Uh...I-I'm actually not supposed to authorize credit card use when the owner isn't—"

"Please." Starrk almost shouts, and I see a glimpse of the temper he has. He inhales sharply before sighing. "Please. He's fine with it, I promise. You won't get in trouble." His voice gets lower to the point where I can't hear it, and I see him smirk. I watch his lips move and he turns his head to brush his hair behind one ear.

His grown features and charm are hellish gifts.

"Well, I guess I could." She takes the card and Starrk gives her the pin number. "It says this card was cancelled three days ago." Starrk bangs his hands on the counter. People in the waiting room look at us.

"That son of a bitch..." I hear him growl lowly.

"Excuse me?"

"Not you." He tells her. "Well can I just leave a deposit? Until I can get the money together?"

"Um, okay." Starrk reaches in his other back pocket. Her pulls out some fives and ones and some change. He has at least $15. "Uh..."

"I'll be back with the rest," Starrk says as he walks out of the hospital. I follow him and we get in the car. He lays his head on the steering wheel.

I should say something, right?

"You're mom is really nice." Nothing. "I—"

"You hungry?" Starrk suddenly says. "I'm hungry."

"Okay." He veers out of the hospital and speeds down the street. I'm scared again. I'm confused when we pull up to a run down old house. He goes inside and I wait.

For a while.

I think about what happened today. God, I feel so bad for Starrk. I feel like a piece of shit, always getting on him for stuff that seems so insignificant now. He's tired, and I can see why. I saw right through his lies in the hospital room. His father doesn't help, and he has to work and work and worry so that his mother can have a chance at surviving. His clothes are too small, he's thinner than he should be, all because he spends his money on her. I hear a glass break somewhere in the house, and I see Starrk burst through the front door.

"Starrk! Come back here, you bastard!"

A man with long brown hair like Starrk's stumbles after him. He's drunk. Starrk ignores him and keeps walking. He gets in the car and puts something in the cup holder. Money. The car starts, and I watch as the man chases after us.

"Who was that?"

"My uncle," he replies. I look at the money. It looks over $300. "He doesn't need it." We pick up burgers and sit in the parking lot to eat. I barely take two bites of my burger. Starrk eats three.

I ask him about the money.

He spills, and everything I guessed was true. I'm the only one he's told. Harribel doen't even know. That makes my chest feel warm for some reason.

Starrk offers to drive me home.

I have a nightmare about his mother dying.

I spend all day working on our project. And when we present it, I give Starrk the credit.

Kisuke confronts me about my terrible grades. He enrolls me in tutoring with his old friend from school.

It's Aizen.

He doesn't bother me when I study. I guess he knew I could do it myself, but I needed to be pressed about it. Aizen's not so bad. The little verbal interaction we have is not terrible. He always tells me I'm smart. He gives me rides home.

I like him.

I pass all my classes at the end of the year. I can thank Aizen for that.

Starrk asks me to come with him to visit his mother over the summer. We go every other day, and I bring my own paintings for her once a week. She loves them. Harribel comes with us sometimes.

I don't like her.

I don't know why though.

I hate it when they kiss. It's so frantic and frequent.

Fucking breathe some air already.

I'm jealous. I know it, and I know I have no right to be. They're happy, and that has nothing to do with me.

Ichigo and I grow close again. I spend the night at his house sometimes. We walk to school together when it starts. He invites me to some party. It's for seniors, but he gets in anyway, probably because he used to be on the soccer team. Everyone loves the soccer team. As he dances with the crowd, I just go to get some punch. When I come back, the crowd is standing around in a circle. It's Starrk and Harribel. They're arguing.

Starrk won't have sex with her.

She calls him a fag, leaves the party.

I smile, though I feel bad because I do. They just broke up. Why do I feel good about that?

"This is a fun party right?" Someone appears on the couch next to me. He's got pink hair and thin glasses, and an even thinner body. I just shrug. "I'm Szayel. I think I'm in your Chemistry class?"

Oh yeah. The smart fuck who knows just about everything there is to know about joules.

"Grimmjow, right?" I nod. My attention is drawn to Starrk again and I smile. He's dancing wildly with his friends, not a care in the world.

Yep, he's drunk.

Szayel keeps talking. He's really annoying, but I don't think I'm rude enough to tell him to piss off. Not anymore, at least. I take a sip of my punch.

It tastes weird.

I watched Starrk for a long time, so maybe it's going flat. I drink more.

I'm tired.

This couch feels weird.

My insides feel weird.

I get up from that fucking weird couch, follow a mess of pink through the crowd, stumble up some stairs.

How'd I get on this bed?

Who's bed is this?

Why is Szayel here?

Why's he kissing me? That's okay, though. His tongue feels nice.

It feels even better on my cock.

Wait, how'd my pants get open? I see lots of pink. His sucks are slow and languid. He takes me deep in his throat and I throw my head back with a moan. I'm only half-hard.

Apparently, that's good enough because he takes his pants off too.

He's pink all over. I should be surprised, but I'm blue all over.

We kiss again, and I grab his ass. He sinks down onto me with ease, he's pretty loose.

A shudder leaves his lips, and he anchors himself on my chest. He begins to work himself into a steady rhythm in my lap. I grip his waist and guide him to a pace I like. He doesn't argue.

I slur curses of that it feels good, and I must've mumbled faster because the bed is rocking and creaking now.

The door creaks too, and I glance at it.

Gray eyes...who has gray eyes?...

They're so beautiful, so hard and still as they lock onto me.

They look glazed over with something. Desire? They turn me on.

I keep staring, and those eyes rip a few loud moans from my throat and make me dig my fingers into thighs.

The eyes disappear...I want them to come back...

I feel myself deflate just as Szayel's orgasm hits him. His cum covers my stomach in thick, white streams, and he trembles. He's loud, and the noises he makes are unappealing. He takes my flaccid cock out of him and only wipes himself off, says something about him wishing I had come inside of him, how he wanted to feel it.

"Too bad."

That's all I hear before I'm alone. The only other person in here is the Sandman.

And I'm tired.

The next morning, I wake up in a strangers bed. There's a funny smell in the air, and my pants are undone. My memory sets in.

I had sex...with who though?

Pink.

Did I see Starrk last night? Did he see me?

Gray eyes.

I hold my head and groan. I hope he didn't think I was enjoying that. I leave the empty house, immediately calling Ichigo to curse him out for leaving me.

The next day everyone is talking about the party.

Except for Starrk and I.

10th grade isn't so bad.

My grades are better than last year's. I study in Aizen's room everyday. 2nd year Psychology is harder than I thought. I call it 'Mind-Fuck Methods Class.'

"So," Aizen starts then sticks a chip in his mouth. "We've gone over the psychology of emotion, motivation, personality, and companionship." I nod. "Now we move on to the big guns." When he smirks, I blush.

I've got a bit of a teacher-crush on Aizen. I'm mostly attracted to his brain, though. He's so smart, and he's just the right amount of cocky about it. I kind of like that.

"The psychology of manipulation. What can you tell me, Grimmjow?"

"Uh," I think of my definitions for a minute. "I-It's a type of social influence. It's about changing what other's want."

"And?"

"That's it?..." I ask more than say.

"Wrong. There's so much more to it than that. Psychological manipulation is dangerous. It's kinetic, meaning it can physically affect someone. It can be a form of abuse, used to deceive and exploit the victim. Though it can also be good, like if you wanted to comfort someone for example." I start taking notes as he begins to pace. He gives the best information when he's in deep thought. "It is important to know how to recognize a manipulator if one does not wish to be a victim. They are usually deceitful about most things, they always know how their victims think, and they are ruthless when it comes to trying to change someone's mind."

"So what if I don't know I'm a victim?" I ask.

"That's the challenge. You never do. The manipulator is always one step ahead. They control you with praise, charm, attention, excessive apologies. Those are the worst because the victim can break down if the illusion is shattered."

I know these things already.

Good boy, Grimm.

Daddy loves you, Grimm.

Help me. Help your daddy, Grimmjow.

They sound like regular things fathers would say to their sons.

But we weren't regular a father and son.

"They can also control you with blackmail, threats, playing the victim."

Yep, know those too.

Mommy will hate you if she finds out.

She already knew, liar.

I'll hurt you if you tell anyone.

What else could you have done that would hurt more than this?

You know daddy's going to hell because of you?

Why? Because you couldn't keep your fucking hands off me?

I'm drawing into myself again.

I haven't thought about it in a long time.

I don't want Aizen around.

"Grimmjow?" He calls.

"I'm tired." I'm not. Aizen smiles softly, like he knows or something.

Impossible.

"Tomorrow then." I quickly pack up and leave. Starrk's outside. He's been waiting to ask me if I wanted to go see his mother.

Sure.

What else do I have to do?

We take the bus since Starrk got his car taken away.

Starrk's mom is more quiet today. Her new meds make her tired. Starrk made the $10,000 somehow, but I don't question him. She's doing a hell of a lot better but she sleeps more. That means we have to leave earlier. Before we do, she pulls me to her, and only speaks when Starrk is outside.

"I see how you look at my son."

My throat goes dry.

"Just wait, he'll come around."

I'm angry.

Not at her, but because she is right. I like Starrk. More than a little. Way more than a lot.

I laugh and dismiss what she said, though I had no reason to.

Before we leave, Starrk drums his fingers on the bus rail, like he always does on his steering wheel. He's thinking.

"Hey...wanna come to my house?" His voice is really soft, sad almost. "Could you..."

He wants company. Needs it. Doesn't want to be alone. His expression reads it clearly.

"Okay."

He tries to hide a relieved smile as he picks up the phone. "Dad." A voice on the other end. "I'm on my way home. Can I have someone over?" He smiles at me again.

I need him to stop doing that. It's making me burn up inside.

Starrk's father's house is nice. It's almost cottage-like. We go inside and he shows me the bathroom in case I need to go. Next is his room. It's got deep, blue walls, and they're covered with pictures and records and postcards from family. The postcards are on his ceiling so he can see them before he goes to sleep. I take a seat in his deskchair and wonder what's next.

"I'm glad you came." His voice fills the empty silence. He suddenly removes his blazer. "I've wanted you to come over for a while now." As he unbuttons his school shirt, my heart beats quicker.

Wait, are we ready for this?

He pulls it over his head and I stop breathing.

I stare at Starrk's body. Even when he's thinner than he should be, he's so muscular and bulky. He's only a year older than me, but that can't be right. As he moves to a drawer near his window, I notice a weird coloring on his side. I focus on it, and I see that it's a long scar, starting from his hip bone and descending into his pants. There are three more just below it. He looks at me and his eyes widen as he sees that I see. I avert my gaze and pretend like I didn't. Starrk pulls out the first shirt he touches and quickly slips it on.

I'm relieved we weren't going to do what I thought we were going to do.

I pretend to look at his desk. Starrk sits in the floor and tells me to join him. He asks me if I've ever smoked before. I tell him no, but that I'd try it. He reaches under his bed and pulls out a bong.

I didn't know I'd have to try it so soon.

Starrk sets it up and presses his lips in the tube, his hair falling like a curtain around his face. I watch as he flicks a lighter and smoke rises. He inhales, and pushes the side of his hair behind his ear. I love when he does that. He lifts his lips and exhales, smoke flowing out in long, thick tendrils. The bong is passed to me, and I have no idea what to do with it. Starrk moves to sit beside me and places his hands over mine.

His hands are warm. Mine are clammy.

He flicks the lighter, and tells me to inhale. I do, and a soft feeling fills my mouth before I cough violently. He laughs, like he did when I had my first drink.

My life, with Starrk, has become full of firsts.

He talks the majority of the time. I smoke more while he does. He talks about soccer, about his mom's stomach cancer, how long he's been taking care of her. He resents his father. He says he doesn't want to be like him. That's why he never had sex with Harribel. He doesn't want to get her pregnant. He's not ready to have a kid, and wants to be able to provide for a family when the time is right.

I get that. I really do.

We talk off into other topics.

"I mean," he exhales smoke. "Fucking would be a bit more of a hassle, but you get to have your bro and your love in one person." I nod.

I guess that makes sense.

Starrk turns to me. His eyes are like pools of swirling gray paint. I'm getting dizzy.

"It just seems easier to be with a guy. A guy you can hang out and be yourself with."

I don't remember our faces being this close. His hand is on my cheek. It's hot against my even hotter skin.

Too much heat.

We hear the door open and Starrk quickly gets up. He tells me to stay here and leaves. I listen to low voices. They get louder, and I hear something about the payments. The voices get closer and clearer.

"You need to grow the fuck up, Starrk. She's going to die, and I'm not wasting my money on some dying woman who isn't my wife."

It's Aizen.

I'm sure of it.

What the fuck?

"She's my mom! You're my dad! Isn't that enough for you to care about her?" Starrk's shouts are sobs too.

"Considering how much trouble you two have caused me, hardly."

This is so fucked up. So fucked up.

I get up and open the window and climb out. The cool air soothes my heated face. I need to get out of here.

I ditch Aizen's class as much as I can. I leave school to smoke with Starrk.

His father is a heartless bastard.

I'm disgusted.

When I actually show up, he asks me questions. I remain silent. He tells me to stay after class, asks me what's going on. I tell him I know. He knows exactly what I mean. Lots of apologies are made, but they shouldn't be directed at me. He tells me I'm too young, that I don't understand, but I understand perfectly. Aizen wants to take me to some private art show on the weekend.

I accept the offer, but not the apology.

It's nice at the gallery. I feel under dressed. Aizen has a buttoned shirt and a nice pair of jeans, I'm dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. I've seen most of the paintings here. A waiter walks around with a tray of drinks every once in a while. I'm tempted to take one, but I know they won't offer it to a minor.

"Want one?" Aizen asks.

"B-But...you're my teacher...you're supposed to say I'm too young." Aizen shrugs and runs his hand through his hair.

"I'm sure you've had a drink before right?"

Yeah, I had my first drink with your son.

Aizen calls the waiter over and asks for one. He gives it to me and I drink it. It tastes good, sweet, like applesauce. As we continue the tour, I tell Aizen about pieces I recognize before the tour guide does. Other people in the group are annoyed by my constant talking, including the guide. Though I don't stop, the multiple drinks making me feel less self-conscious. Aizen says he likes hearing me talk (and I'm pretty fucking loud when I'm drunk), so we break away from the group and I tell him more. Surprisingly, even in this drunken state, my memory is remarkable.

When I talk about art I love, I become a different person, I guess.

When the night ends, the inside of me is warm and fuzzy. Aizen apologizes for letting me drink so much, but I just say I needed it. We go to the car, and I lean against the door, the sting of bile rising in my throat.

"I drank...so much..." I say groggily.

"C'mon, let's get you home." Aizen comes around to my side and helps me stay upright. He stops and stares at me.

Suddenly, I'm pressed up against the car, warm hands around my wrists and hot, restless lips against my own. I don't kiss him back. This is wrong.

But he looks just like Starrk.

My tongue starts to move. I inhale at the feeling.

Smells like him, too. Just like him.

I grab the sides of Aizen's head and pull his lips down on mine harder. His tongue feels good, and I imagine this is what Starrk's feels like. Drunk thoughts bring long, unruly brown locks into my hands instead of the neatly combed short ones that are really there.

I feel Aizen's hand on my crotch, kneading, tugging over my jeans.

I can't stop him.

It doesn't take much to get me hard.

Even less to make me come.

My orgasm is empty, hollow, as if nothing came out of me at all. However, I know that's not true because my underwear are sticky now. Still though, I feel nothing but the tightness of my abdomen and the exhaustion. There's no pleasure, no actual libido. I'm not satisfied.

Tears roll down my cheeks.

How could I do this to Starrk?

I like him, but I just let his dad jerk me off.

I'm fucked up.

No amount of art or knowledge can build up a sophisticated wall that is high enough to mask how dirty I am.

I'm so fucked up.

"I want to go home."

"Grimmjow...I-I'm so sorry...I never meant..."

I flinch from his hand. "I want to go home."

When I get there, I stare at myself in the mirror.

I remember when I was a kid, I'd come home from school and do this for a long time. Minutes, sometimes hours. I'd stare and wait for the image staring back at me to ripple. As if when I'd blink, the mirror would change and all of my life would be a dream. It never did, but I'd keep staring, and keep blinking, desperate to wake up from this nightmare.

It had to be a nightmare.

I just wanted everything to change, maybe end...or something.

Aizen and Starrk earn themselves a ticket on the Avoidance Express. Surprisingly, Starrk doesn't bother me. He gets that something is up. I have no reason to avoid him, but I can't look at him without thinking about that night.

Just two more months until summer.

Can I keep this up for that long?

"Grimmjow."

Aizen's voice makes me jump. I think about taking off, but I don't.

I should have.

More apologies come, pleas for forgiveness.

"Let's just start over. We can be better friends."

I really like how comfortable I am around Aizen, and I don't want to lose that. I accept his ride offer and go to get his forgotten laptop from his classroom before he takes me home. I can't find it. I look all around the classroom, but it's nowhere to be found.

In the desk maybe? Yeah.

I pick it up and before I walk out, I wonder what his desktop background is. I try to guess, think about the type of person the professor is. I don't want to pry, but a little peek won't hurt, right? I open it, and instead of seeing a classic piece of art like I'd guessed, I see a paused video.

God, I'm too curious.

I press play, and at first there's darkness. A dim light comes on, and there's a bed. It's empty. There's the sound of a door opening and someone walks in. The camera is blurry so I can't tell who it is. They go to the bed and put something down then move closer to the camera. Some adjustments are made, and the camera focuses.

Crystal blue eyes, just like mine.

My father moves away from the camera, and 12-year-old me is on the bed, my hands folded and my eyes downcast. My father leaves. Someone else comes in.

I recognize it as a younger Aizen.

I instinctively lay down, and he takes my shirt off.

I drop the laptop and the screen cracks on impact. I lean against the desk for support, making it skid on the floor.

My body is sweaty, and I wipe some away that dripped from my hair.

"Hey nevermind, I found—" In Aizen's hand is another laptop.

That was the one I was supposedly looking for.

He looks at the one on the ground then at me, putting two and two together. He drops the computer in his hand and takes a step towards me. I scramble around the desk and back away as far as I can until he catches me.

I couldn't move fast enough.

"Grimmjow, please listen!" I whimper and scratch at his hands around my wrist, unable to create coherent words. "Wait! Wait! Let me explain!" I shake my head violently and tears flow out of my eyes faster.

I'm scared.

"No! No! No!" I finally get my wrist free, but I lose my footing. The world tilts as I do.

BAM.

The pain is excruciating.

The back of my head feels damp.

The rim of my vision is dark.

I lay on my back for a moment, just staring up.

Though, when I hear Aizen's muffled voice in my ringing ears, I panic. I force my body to roll over, to drag myself away, but I know it's over. As I hear his footsteps growing closer, I know I can't escape.

"I never meant to hurt you, Grimmjow."

Sick.

"I tried to make you comfortable with me. So I could touch you like that again."

Sick, sick, sick.

He's standing over me now. I feel the tears brimming in my eyes again.

I remember psychology tutoring.

He's a manipulator.

I'm a victim.

"I could never forget your beautiful hair. I could never forget you."

Just when I gain feeling in my legs again, he kneels over me, his crotch against my ass and his thighs keeping my legs still and in place. If I could speak I'd be begging right now, just begging for another chance. A chance to rewrite my life. A chance to tell Starrk how I feel about him. A chance to run away with him. But would he really leave his mother? No, I'm not worth it. I'm not worth anything. Look at me...

Helplessly stuck on the ground, a monster about to eat me.

He grips my blood-drenched hair and let's out a shuddery sigh, as if he's getting off on just touching it. He fists and tugs my blue filaments roughly with another sigh, and I feel his erection grow in his pants. When his grip releases, my stupid brain thinks he's going to let me go, but he grabs the back of my pants and boxers then pulls them below my ass with one firm yank.

"You're so perfect. That's all I wanted you to see," the creature breathes as he firmly kneads the bare flesh. My breaths come quicker, tears spilling and loud, pleading whimpers leaving my mouth. "Just let me..."

"P-Please...please...please..." I won't stop saying it.

Aizen grips the side of my face and turns me to him. "Shut up," he growls. His voice is different now, darker and angry. "Shut the hell up."

When I don't, he hits me, and I remember my cheek throbbing, a bit of blood spilling from my mouth, and my whimpers were silenced. As he shimmies my garments down further to my thighs, I fight and shake in a last attempt to escape. He grabs my wrists and holds them above my head, grunting against my struggling.

"Be still now, Grimmjow."

Be still for daddy, Grimm.

Oh God.

He lets my wrists go when I stop fighting. I turn my face to the sun in the window.

It's so nice outside.

A thought enters my head.

Why can birds fly and I can't?

I imagine my winged escape away from all this. Away from the klinks of his pants, the friction of his clothing against mine, the feel of his knee spreading my legs, my broken cry as he rutts into me with a loud smack.

My world is shattered to pieces.

My voice was hoarse as I begged for him to stop. My sweat-drenched hair stuck to my forehead and eyes. At one point, my soft screams were interrupted by spastic gasps, the pain becoming too much. I tensed up as I felt a puddle of warmth grow on the floor beneath me, and the stinging smell and the pain and the fear made me cough and gag, until all I'd had for lunch gushed out in front of me. I started to cry again.

I didn't know if I'd really heard the crack of a door, but I thought I saw Starrk's face in the blur of moisture in my eyes, and it brought me a comfort I could've never imagined. He looked so beautiful as he moved towards me, brown locks flowing and slate eyes glistening. Suddenly, I felt empty, my sweaty back was exposed to the cool air, and my hips were no longer pressed against sticky skin. I heard the familiar crack of bones, the splatter of blood on tile, grunts of anger and groans of pain mixed together. More voices and shouts filled the room, and I felt a foot drive into my side(cracking a rib I think?), but I didn't flinch or move. I was numb. I see orange hair. Ichigo. He shakes me. Someone says something about the police. Hold him down. One of Starrk's teammates. I hear the anger rise in Starrk's voice.

At me?

I don't want him to see me like this. Covered in Aizen's sweat and my own sweat and my piss and my vomit. Pathetically helpless on the ground, my legs spread their widest for his father.

"I hate you, you sick mother fucker."

Is he talking to me? It wasn't my fault...

"I hope you burn in hell."

I curl myself up, but I still feel his gaze on me. It's filled with disgust and disappointment, I just know it.

He hates me.

This ruined everything.

I watch Starrk storm away before I black out.

I tell Zaraki my story at our next meeting.

"Oh God..." I cry. "I'm so stupid!" Zaraki pulls me into his arms. It's the first time we've had voluntary bodily contact. "I-If I had said something...to anyone...I would have stopped it! It's m-my fault!" God, my face feels heavy. My whole being feels heavy.

I don't know why I didn't say anything. Maybe I was scared. Of him, of Starrk, of what Starrk would think of me.

Of how much Aizen reminded me of my father.

Cold and fucking manipulative.

It makes me angry that they gained my trust first. He was my father, that just made it easy for him. I was born with trust in him. Questionable trust, but trust none the less. Aizen was my fucking Psychology teacher. That means he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing since day one.

I should've known. No one's ever kind to me. I should've known. I should've known.

"I'm stupid. I'm a stupid kid who never learns." I sob into Zaraki's chest.

It's too late now.

It can't be reversed.

"That's not true. You were scared."

"No. I can't use that excuse forever. I'm a fucking dumb, stupid fucking cunt, and I deserved all of this!"

I'm angry with myself. I trust too much.

I can't be with Starrk because I will never fully trust him, and if I can't, then I won't want to be with him.

I hate that people I care about airways end up hurting me.

Zaraki waits until my hiccups die down to let me go. I lay down, tell him about what happened after that.

I woke up in the hospital. Kisuke was sleep. I stared at him until he woke up, said I'd been asleep for three days. My body hurt. Kisuke said Aizen's foot shot out as he tried to escape Starrk's beating. That's how my ribs broke. The throbbing in the back of my head got worse as I remembered, as Kisuke kept talking, apologizing. For not being more involved in my life, for not being aware of how vulnerable I was, of how easily I could be taken advantage of.

I wanted to rip his mouth off.

What I heard was: You're weak. I should've watched you more because you can't protect yourself.

I screamed for the nurse and told her he was bothering me. He fought, but was eventually kicked out.

I will always regret that.

No one else came.

And if they did, they came while I was sleeping.

Starrk never came.

I knew then that he hated me.

For some reason, I tried to leave, but was promptly dragged back to bed by my doctor. Instead I stood at the window. No one was looking. I thought about jumping, about how good it'd feel to just end it all. It was so tempting.

But I was a coward.

Instead, I tied my sheets together and climbed out. I walked for miles until I found the park. I sat on the bench Starrk and I smoked that one day. I laid in his lap again. The police searched for me for three days. For three days, I didn't move a muscle. People stared, but I'm sure they didn't know I was that kid from the news. I went back home. No one was there, so I just climbed up to my room. It had been cleaned, my bed made. I slept again. Five days later, I walked downstairs, hair matted and hospital gown filthy.

Yoruichi screamed, making Kisuke rush in. His eyes filled with tears, then anger. He yelled and cursed at me so loud and intense that it shook the foundation of the house. Of my soul. He spewed something about how sick I made him, about how selfish I was. How I was his son, and he'd cried for days in worry, and that I was a selfish, selfish kid.

I snapped.

He wasn't my fucking father, and I didn't want him to ever say it again. I told him I knew he never wanted me there. I outed him about his love for Yoruichi. I told him he never fucking cared about me. Kisuke pulled me to him, and I punched and kicked at him, but he never let go. We were on the floor, and he kept repeating it.

You're my son.

I'm sorry son.

So sorry.

I cried, and he cried, and Yoruichi cried. They put me in a bath, Kisuke clipped the knots out of my hair, Yoruichi put me back in bed. They called the police and told them they'd found me. I didn't go to court, I couldn't. I wrote my testimony and gave it to Kisuke to read.

Aizen's in jail for life.

I hope he fucking dies.

No, death is too good for him.

I want him to suffer.

I hope someone does the same thing to him, fucks with his mind.

A few weeks before school lets out, I decided I wanted to go back. I didn't know why, but I just did. Yoruichi protested, but Kisuke allowed it, said it'd be good for me to get out again.

I want to see my friends.

I hope they don't hate me.

On the walk to school, I saw Nnoitora. He saw me too and crossed the street. I prayed I could ignore him.

He caught up to me and laughed.

I told him to fuck off.

He teased me about it.

Told me I probably liked it.

He said he was there when they found me, that I was moaning and begging like a whore.

"You liked it."

That's what he told everyone at school.

He was the only one that saw me to testify. Everyone else was too shaken up. He told the truth in court, but that's what he told everyone at school.

Why...

"You fucking liked it."

He said it over and over, like a fucking mantra.

I covered my ears, but I could still hear.

I...liked it...

No I didn't.

I pushed back when he fucked me.

No...I-I didn't...

I started crying with each word he said, but I kept walking.

He got in front of me, cornered me on the side of some store. Said something about the video, how he would send it to people if I didn't suck him off. If I didn't spread my legs for him, too.

So that's what this was.

People are fucking sick.

Nnoitora gripped my hair and kissed me. I was too scared to bite him. He said I'd be a good fuck, easy even. I finally bit him. He shouted then turned me around, slammed my head into the bricks, pressed my broken ribs. I cried out pathetically. He told me he wished he were Aizen that day. His hands gripped the back of my pants and I lost it. I elbowed him in the nose, causing him to yank some of my hair out as he fell to the ground. I got on top of him and just swung my fists. I didn't care where they went, I just made sure they made contact with his body.

Thud.

He cried out and held his stomach. It made me feel good. Better than when I first fought him.

Crack.

His breath came in and came out in a gasp. I cut it off with a blow to his side.

Having this much power...feels so fucking good.

He tells me to stop. My blood pumps quicker.

"Shut." Thwack.

Am I getting hard?

"Up." Thwack.

I think I'm hard.

"You like it."

CrackCrackCrack.

He pressed my ribs again but I didn't care.

I didn't care anymore.

"You like it."

CRACK.

My ribs break again.

He pleaded.

"You like it."

My voice is not mine.

SquishSquishSquish.

"You like it. Say it. Say it and maybe I'll stop. YOULIKEITYOULIKEITYOULIKEIT!"

I gripped his head, slam it into the ground over and over.

"I...like it!" He sobbed. He coughed, the noise filled with liquid, and accompanied with a splatter of blood to my face.

His blood is warm.

My dick throbs.

What a pussy.

SplatSplatSplat.

His face is bloody and so are my hands. There's blood underneath his head. I keep swinging, trying to build up more of that good feeling. I grip his shirt, pull him up for another hit, but my fist stops mid-swing. I shut my eyes and let out a shuddery gasp as an orgasm rolls over me in waves. With each one, my thighs shake and I feel cum shoot into my underwear. I gasp before I lose my strength and fall forward. My hands give me support and I am forced to stare at what I've done. Nnoitora is struggling to breathe.

Sick.

Wait...I don't remember...

Sick, sick, sick.

As the coil in my crotch unravels, and the rush from power fades, I back away.

Did I really?...

I'm the sick one.

I'm scared. Of myself.

Before I throw up, I get up and run, leaving my school bag in the alley next to Nnoitora. I slammed into someone.

Starrk, on his way to school.

I saw blood on his blazer, and I kept running. I got home, locked myself in my room, tried to scrub the blood and cum out of my clothes. A few hours later, Kisuke told me Nnoitora was in a coma. He said that I did it, that the cops found my bag and my hair in his hand. I went with the police without a fight, but I didn't talk. Kisuke told me not to until he could get a lawyer.

Nnoitora died the night before my hearing. Pronounced brain dead.

I would have been charged with murder had Kisuke not served as my attorney.

Starrk glared at me the whole time in court. Even when he testified, his glare never faltered, and his accusing finger did not tremble.

I killed one of his best friends.

His blazer served as evidence, my handprints of Nnoitora's blood on it from when I bumped into him.

You did this. I read his expression.

I know.

It's okay.

Just hate me.

I was charged with aggravated assault instead because technically I didn't kill him.

"I never meant to kill him."

I keep telling myself that, but it doesn't help.

I liked it.

Not killing him, just the process.

I didn't know I'd kill him.

I didn't tell his family I was sorry because I wasn't. They yelled and spat and cursed and called me a bastard, but I didn't care.

"I'll pray for you, you sinful creation of Satan." It's Nnoitora's mother. She shouts prayers at me.

"I'll see you and your son in hell."

I follow Kisuke out of the courtroom.

I feel lightheaded.

Zaraki just stares at me.

He's in awe.

Therapy is over.

He got to the bottom of why I beat up Nnoitora. That was his job. It's over now, right? My charges will be lifted because of the whole attempt at rape thing, right? Or does that not matter because Nnoitora is dead?

He signs off all of my hours and tells me to come back when school starts up again, free of charge.

I just might take him up on his offer.

When I get home, I go to my bed.

I'm not sorry that Nnoitora is dead.

Not sad, not happy. It just doesn't matter to me.

And anyone who hates me can meet me in hell with his bitch mother.

Drowsiness approaches quickly.

I feel fine.

Just content.

Or I don't feel anything.

Yeah, nothing.

I don't know.

I feel better.

I'm tired.

Goodnight.

There were many time changes for a reason though I may not have pulled them off correctly.

R&R

~EMAE