Angel stepped into the scorching shower, the searing water assaulting his weary frame. Each droplet felt like fiery needles piercing his battered skin, a painful reminder of the relentless chaos that had consumed the past twenty-four hours. He winced, but it was a welcome discomfort—a physical manifestation of the torment swirling within him.
Leaning against the shower wall, he sought solace in its cool touch, as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. His body ached, bearing the visible marks of exhaustion and bruises, the remnants of his grueling production shoot. Yet, it was the invisible wounds that cut the deepest, the weight of his troubled mind and shattered spirit.
As the scalding water cascaded over him, Angel yearned for its cleansing power to erase not only the physical grime but also the emotional turmoil that threatened to consume him. In this private sanctuary, he yearned to dissolve into nothingness, to vanish without a trace, leaving behind the remnants of his pain and sorrow.
But deep down, he knew that escape was not an option. As much as he longed to disappear, he understood that he had a duty to endure. The world expected him to rise above his own anguish and continue the façade of strength. So, he braced himself against the wall, a symbol of his resilience, and allowed the scorching water to wash away the outer layers of his exhaustion, knowing that beneath it all, a weary soul remained, waiting to be healed.
He tightly embraced himself, his lower arms wrapping around his body, a feeble attempt to shield himself from the haunting memories of the previous night. Valentino's relentless violation had left him shattered, his body a canvas of torment. And for what purpose? Another tumultuous chapter in the volatile love story of Vox and Valentino, an endless cycle of heartbreak and despair.
Vox, once again, had decided to sever ties with Valentino, claiming that their needs were incompatible. It was a familiar pattern, one that Angel had witnessed too many times. Whenever Vox sought an exit, Valentino's wrath would descend upon someone, and he always deemed Angel as the deserving target. The repeated nature of this cruel game should have desensitized Angel by now, numbing him to the pain. But this time was different, for he had dared to do something he had never done since the day Valentino had claimed ownership of him years ago—he had stood up to the moth.
No matter the outcome, whether he complied or resisted, he would have inevitably faced violation. Yet, this time, he had fought back, defying the monstrous hold Valentino had on him. And though the marks on his body bore witness to the brutality inflicted upon him, they also served as a tangible testament to his strength, a physical manifestation of his defiance.
As the scalding water continued to pour down, Angel clung to the only proof of his own agency in a world where he was deemed nothing more than a pawn. In the depths of his pain, he found a flicker of resolve, a glimmer of self-worth that he had almost forgotten. Despite the darkness that surrounded him, he would endure, carrying the scars as a symbol of his triumph over his tormentor—a reminder that he was more than a plaything, that he had a voice that deserved to be heard, and a spirit that refused to be broken.
Throughout the long, harrowing night, Angel had been trapped within the confines of that luxurious penthouse, enduring the relentless brutality of Valentino's desires. It was only as the early rays of dawn began to break through the window that Val, spent and exhausted, finally succumbed to sleep. But any respite Angel hoped to find was fleeting, as Val's possessive arms remained wrapped tightly around his battered body, making it impossible for him to escape.
Every attempt to move was met with searing pain, his bruised and aching muscles protesting any form of mobility. Even if Val's grip had loosened, the physical toll exacted upon him made every motion a challenge, a reminder of the torment he had endured throughout the night. Time passed, and when the clock struck 9:30, Valentino insisted that Angel fulfill his obligations for the day before he would be allowed to return to the sanctuary of the hotel.
Despite the overwhelming exhaustion and pain, Angel knew he had no choice but to comply. It was a stark reminder of the power dynamic in their twisted relationship, where Valentino held control over his every move. Summoning what little strength remained within him, Angel reluctantly prepared himself for the day ahead, his body aching with each step, his spirit weighed down by the heaviness of his recent ordeal.
As he went through the motions of his schedule, Angel longed for the moment when he could finally retreat to the sanctuary of his hotel room. It was there that he would find a brief respite from the suffocating grip of Valentino, allowing himself to heal both physically and emotionally. Until then, he would endure, carrying the burdens of the night's torment, counting the minutes until his eventual escape from the clutches of his captor.
As Angel arrived on the sound stage, the visible evidence of his ordeal couldn't be ignored. His body bore the marks of a violent encounter, bruises and injuries marring his once-pristine appearance. No one dared to inquire about what had transpired, for the reputation of Valentino as a tyrant loomed over the studio. The pieces fell into place easily, and whispers circulated, speculating on the source of Angel's injuries. Some suggested that Valentino's unchecked aggression had gotten the better of him, while others saw it as a long-overdue comeuppance for the egotistical eight-limbed diva.
Even his makeup team found themselves conferring among themselves, the director, and Valentino, attempting to conceal the worst of the bruising and wounds. One particularly unsightly injury caused Angel's normally white-colored eye to swell and bulge, defying all attempts at camouflage. In resignation, the director decided that Angel's character would wear an eye patch, unable to find a better solution. Valentino, playing the role of the oblivious culprit, feigned ignorance about how Angel had sustained such damage. He even staged a fake call to supposedly investigate who could have dared to violate one of his prized actors.
Yet, beneath Valentino's pretense, Angel sensed a double punishment at play. His defiance from the previous night had not gone unnoticed, and the additional roughness allowed in his shoots seemed to be a deliberate form of retribution. Valentino intended to make him suffer, both for daring to challenge his authority and for forcing him to film as "damaged merchandise."
Amidst the whispers and hushed conversations, Angel carried the weight of his injuries, a visual reminder of his vulnerability and the toxic environment in which he worked.
Fortunately, as a demon, Angel possessed the ability to heal from his injuries at a faster pace compared to humans. However, the extent of his recent trauma had taken a toll on his body's capacity to recover. Days of sleep deprivation, meager meals, and constant strain had depleted his physical energy reserves. Despite the natural healing abilities inherent to his demonic nature, the lingering effects of his injuries persisted.
Although some bruises and wounds had begun to fade, a significant number remained, serving as a painful reminder of the violence he had endured. The shoots involving rape and abuse scenes, filmed under the guise of art, only exacerbated the damage inflicted upon his already battered body. The cumulative toll of physical and emotional strain weighed heavily upon him, leaving him on the brink of exhaustion.
Walking became an arduous task, his movements unsteady and faltering. Fatigue clung to him like a suffocating shroud, threatening to overwhelm his every step. The relentless demands placed upon him, both by Valentino and the grueling production schedule, had drained him to the point of near collapse.
Yet, despite the weariness that gnawed at his bones, Angel summoned every ounce of strength he could muster. With sheer determination, he pressed forward, pushing his exhausted body beyond its limits. The road ahead seemed insurmountable, but he refused to succumb. Deep within him, a flicker of resilience burned, urging him to endure, to persevere in the face of adversity.
Sticking a finger down his throat Angel gagged for he threw up all the cum he had swallowed over the last shoot. This was a habit he picked up weeks ago, at first it was only during his final shower as he prepared to return to the hotel. Now it was during every shower that he would purge his stomach of the bitter, salty, ejaculations. His eyes impassively watched as the tiny fish-like microbial-cells helplessly flailed as the shower water helped guide them down the drain.
Angel had occasionally found himself pondering this peculiar aspect of demon physiology, wondering why sinner demons, despite their inability to procreate, still retained the ability to produce sperm. It seemed paradoxical, considering that a consequence of sin in the mortal world was the inability to bear children. Cherri Bomb, had once shared her thoughts on the matter, expressing how she enjoyed the freedom of engaging in intimate encounters with various sinners without the fear of unwanted pregnancies. Angel grappled with the unique reality of Hellborn demons, those who possessed the ability to have children and age, albeit at a significantly slower pace than humans. While he took a certain pride in his youthful appearance and the knowledge that he would retain it more or less for eternity, there was an underlying sense of strangeness in being forever confined to a thirty-three-year-old body, despite having existed for over a century.
When he had been human, Angel had yearned for a man who would love him unconditionally, despite his association with the mob. He would dream that had made the mutual decision to take Molly with them and escape to San Francisco, seeking a life far away from the clutches of the Ragno Family. As time passed, perhaps there was the possibility of adopting children or finding a way to start a family of their own. Alternatively, they could have embraced the role of proud uncles to Molly's future little ones. Angel had even selected names for these imaginary children—Isabella for a girl and Santino for a boy. However, in the end, these dreams remained nothing more than fantasies. After stepping out of the shower, he quickly dried himself off, got dressed, and headed towards the door.
He anticipated that Cherri would be consumed with worry about his whereabouts from the previous night. He saw no point in concocting excuses or explanations; Cherri had an uncanny ability to dismantle them instantly. Even if he had managed to call and provide some account for his delayed return, it would undoubtedly raise suspicion. He secretly felt relieved that he had silenced his personal phone before King Luci arrived. The barrage of calls and texts from Cherri, desperately attempting to discover the cause of his delay, would have only heightened Val's curiosity if he had overheard Angel's phone buzzing incessantly. Angel couldn't bear to imagine the consequences of that.
Cherri: "Angie..where are you? Are you alright?"
Cherri: "Seriously man, you are worrying me... what's up?"
Cherri: "Angie...as soon as you get this text, call me or Charlie. We need to know you're alright."
Cherri: "I've been wanting to get everyone together and storm the studio to find you. The Princess has talked me out of it and told me to have faith you'll come back. She's concerned about what's going on but wants to believe you can take care of yourself. I want to believe that too, but considering...anyway don't worry about Nugzy. I'm looking after him, but he misses his Papa. Please...when you can...it would make everyone here breathe easier if we know you're okay."
"I just wanted to wish you a good evening, Angel Cakes," Valentino said, his voice low and commanding as he leaned in. The intensity in his eyes made it clear that his words held a veiled threat. "Listen up, darlin', 'cause I'm gonna lay it out straight for you. You even think about goin' against my wishes again, you'll find yourself cozying up in my "special room." Now, let me school you on the real charm of that chamber – it's a hush-hush hideaway. Ain't a soul, not even your so-called pals in that hotel are gonna sniff you out, no matter how hard they snoop around this joint. So, my precious Angel, don't go stirrin' up the urge in me to tuck you away in that lonesome spot."
Angel muttered under his breath in Italian, his voice tinged with frustration and defiance. "Come se avessi bisogno di un motivo...(As if you need a reason)" he murmured, his words barely audible as he began to walk away from Valentino.
"Say, sugar, did you mumble something just now? My ears ain't catchin' every word, so why don't you go on and lay it out clear for me, sweetheart?" Valentino's voice carried a slight edge, a subtle undertone of threat vibrating through his words. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer, as he stared intently at Angel, waiting for a response.
"I was only saying 'Buonanotte, signor Valentino,'(Goodnight, Mr. Valentino.)" Angel hurriedly corrected, his voice tinged with apprehension. The sudden change in Valentino's demeanor sent a shiver down their spine.
But before Angel could react further, Valentino's hand shot out, roughly grabbing him by the hair. With a forceful yank, his head was pulled back, exposing his vulnerable gaze to Valentino's piercing stare.
"Aw, babe, you're talkin' 'bout that jive you spit in that twisted spaghetti tongue of yours. You know I ain't too fond of that mumbo jumbo." Valentino's words dripped with disdain, his voice carrying a slight growl. The grip on Angel's hair tightened as he asserted his dominance. "Your words sound like you're throwin' some sass my way. Just so we're clear, I only wanna hear English when you're in my presence, ya dig? Ain't no need for any of that other jibber-jabber. And don't make me remind you the hard way, 'cause I ain't afraid to lay down some discipline if necessary. So, you got that message loud and clear, or am I gonna have to school you all over again?"
The threat hung in the air, leaving Angel with a chilling sense of the consequences that awaited him if he failed to comply.
"No, sir," Angel Dust drawled, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'll be more careful about speakin' Italiano when I'm around you."
"Good boy," Valentino said, his voice dripping with smugness. He tilted his head back, displaying an air of superiority. "I've got a slick town car all set to roll you back to that sorry excuse for a hotel you're stayin' at. Catch some Z's and shine 'em up, 'cause I expect to see you lookin' fresh and ready first thing tomorrow, sweetheart." He paused, a sinister glint in his eyes. "Oh, and Angel..." Valentino's tone turned menacing. "Not a single syllable about what went down last night." He leaned in closer, his voice lowered to a dangerous whisper. "Every single bruise and scrape you're sportin' right now? Well, they all conveniently happened while we were shootin' today, and guess what? I've got the footage to back up every claim I make. So, when it comes to believability, my word's gold compared to yours." He leaned back, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips, reveling in his control over the situation.
The hotel remained eerily quiet throughout the previous night, creating an atmosphere of anticipation. Cherri's determination to take decisive action and storm the studio grew stronger by the minute. Deep down, she sensed an unsettling shift in Angel's situation, a foreboding sign that things were far from positive.
Cherri Bomb, with a resolute expression, shared her insight with conviction. "I've witnessed firsthand the extent of the damage Valentino can inflict," the Bomber Girl recounted. "It was a really shitty ordeal, one of the most horrible experiences I've ever witnessed."
Charlie, adopting a composed tone, expressed her perspective. "We must maintain faith that he will come back," she asserted, even though a sense of unease crept into her thoughts regarding the Spider's well-being. However, she understood the importance of fostering a calm environment for everyone in her hotel. Rushing into a confrontation would only exacerbate the situation. "If he hasn't returned by tomorrow night, we'll embark on a search for him," she proposed, offering a plan that balanced patience with a proactive approach.
Cherri Bomb's voice grew sharper as she countered, "You don't understand, Princess. You have no idea what that monster is capable of doing to Angie." Her frustration and concern were palpable, fueled by her deep connection with her best friend.
Charlie's admission was sincere as she gently placed a soothing hand on Cherri Bomb's shoulder. "You're right, Cherri. I don't have firsthand knowledge of what Angel is enduring, and honestly, I'd rather not know the details," Charlie confessed, her empathy evident in her eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'm turning a blind eye to his situation. We must remember that he's enduring all of this for our sake, for all of us." She emphasized the significance of Angel's sacrifices, urging Cherri to keep that in mind during their course of action.
"But Charlie, you're the Princess of Hell," Cherri emphasized. "Doesn't that grant you some authority or leverage? Perhaps there's a way for you to intervene and get Angel out of that wretched place. And what about your father? Could he help us?" She clung to the possibility that Charlie's status and connections could be instrumental in rescuing their friend from his torment.
Charlie's expression turned earnest as she responded to Cherri's suggestions. "I have reservations about using my authority unless it becomes absolutely necessary," she explained. "I'm aware of the abuse Angel is enduring, and I'm determined to address that issue. However, I believe it's crucial to reserve my status for situations of utmost seriousness. I don't want to misuse my power."
Concerning her father's involvement, Charlie sighed softly. "My father tends to stay out of demon affairs unless they have the potential to cause significant upheaval," she clarified. "While Angel's situation is undoubtedly grave, it might not meet the threshold for his direct intervention. We'll need to exhaust other avenues first." Despite the limitations, Charlie remained resolute in her commitment to help Angel in any way possible.
"Alright," Cherri responded bitterly, her frustration evident in her tone. She acknowledged that Charlie's reasoning was sound, but it didn't change the fact that she felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness in the face of Angel's plight.
The three girls struggled to find sleep, each of them lying awake, their ears straining for the sound of Angel's guest room door slamming shut, a sign that he had returned. Yet, there was only silence, an agonizing absence of any indication that Angel had come back during the night. The following morning, as the aroma of freshly prepared pancakes filled the air, there was still no sign or word that Angel had reappeared. The atmosphere was heavy with worry and unanswered questions, amplifying their sense of unease.
Alastor, with his signature smile adorning his face, spoke up reassuringly. "No need to fret, my dears," he declared. "Angel Dust is quite capable of taking care of himself." His confident tone aimed to alleviate their concerns, implying that Angel possessed the resilience and resourcefulness necessary to navigate the challenges he faced.
Vaggie, with a touch of frustration in her voice, chimed in to express her perspective. "That's precisely why we're worried," she interjected. Her tone carried a mix of worry and exasperation, emphasizing the underlying reasons for their anxiety. Vaggie understood Angel's capability, but she also recognized the dangers he could face and the toll they might take.
Charlie's voice carried a firm resolve as she laid out her plan. "If Angel hasn't returned by this evening," she asserted, her determination unwavering, "then it's time for us to pay that porn studio a visit." Her words conveyed a clear course of action, indicating that they would take matters into their own hands to ensure Angel's safety. The urgency in her voice revealed the depth of her concern and her unwavering commitment to their friend.
As the day slowly passed, the evening arrived, and Charlie and Vaggie retreated to the main floor office to strategize their next steps. Meanwhile, Cherri made her way back to her room, tending to Fat Nuggets while anxiously awaiting Angel's return or their decision to confront the porn studio. From her window, she spotted a car pulling up outside. With a glimmer of hope, Cherri observed as one of the back doors opened, revealing Angel stepping out. Fatigue weighed heavily on his features as he rubbed his forehead, clearly exhausted. He stumbled toward the hotel's entrance, his movements unsteady.
The sight of Angel's condition stirred a sense of urgency within Cherri. She wasted no time, rushing towards the door of her room. Deep in her heart, she knew that Valentino had crossed a line this time. No more excuses or delays; Angel needed to distance himself from the studio as far as possible.
Husk's expression shifted to one of deep concern as he witnessed Angel's entrance into the hotel. The cat demon could sense that something was gravely amiss with the Spider. Angel appeared utterly drained, his movements resembling that of a lifeless doll. However, what alarmed Husk even more were the dark marks marring Angel's once pristine white fur. Swaths of black, purple, and blue discoloration covered his body, serving as painful reminders of the torment he had endured. Adding to the distressing sight, Angel's white eye was swollen almost completely shut, a visible sign of the brutality he had endured. Husk's concern deepened as he realized the severity of Angel's condition.
"A hearty welcome back to you my dear fellow." Alastor greeted Angel with his usual charm. However, Angel remained silent, his weariness causing his legs to give out, sending him crashing to the ground. Alastor's smiling expression shifted to one of mild surprise. "Oh dear, it appears that you've been through quite a harrowing experience," he remarked, with a tisking noise. "Well, it seems it's up to someone to step forward and notify Charlie and her sidekick that our wayward eight-legged friend has at last made its way back to the homestead." Alastor's words held some hint of urgency, recognizing the need to bring the situation to the attention of the others, so they could provide the assistance and support Angel required.
Charlie, alerted by the conversation, swiftly emerged from her office and approached the scene. Her voice reflected a mix of surprise and relief as she questioned, "He's back?"
Husk's dry humor seeped into his response, and he commented, "Can't say for sure if he's 'back,' but he's definitely sprawled across the floor." Charlie's attention immediately shifted to the spot where Angel had collapsed, her eyes widening with worry as she focused on his motionless form.
"I'll go get Cherri," Vaggie swiftly declared, racing upstairs to retrieve the other female demon. Meanwhile, Charlie approached Angel's motionless body, her gaze filled with concern and determination. Ignoring the immediate response, she carefully knelt down and cradled his head in her lap, her touch gentle as she lightly stroked his hair. The extent of his injuries became painfully evident, leaving no doubt that they were intentionally inflicted by someone. While her suspicions pointed towards Valentino, Charlie understood the need for concrete evidence or a confession before accusing him of this heinous act.
Charlie's attention then shifted to other concerning signs. Angel didn't exhibit the typical signs of being under the influence of drugs, and there was no trace of alcohol. These were not immediate worries for her at the moment. However, the dark circles under his eyes and the emerging hollows in his cheeks were deeply troubling. They served as tangible evidence of the toll his experiences had taken on him, and it only intensified her determination to protect him from further harm.
Husk, noticing the need for Angel to regain consciousness, quickly stepped in to assist. He reached behind the bar and retrieved a small flask containing smelling salts, offering it to Charlie. "Here," he said, extending the flask toward her. "Wave this under his nose, and it should help him come around." Husk's pragmatic nature kicked in, providing a practical solution to help bring Angel back to awareness.
"Thank you," Charlie expressed her gratitude as she took the flask from Husk. With a steady hand, she removed the stopper and waved the lavender-scented ammonia crystals under Angel's snout, hoping for a positive response. She held her breath, listening intently until she heard a promising groan escape his mouth.
Wordlessly, Charlie handed the flask back to Husk, her attention refocused on Angel. "It's alright," she reassured him, her voice laced with comfort and relief. "You're home now, among friends." Her words carried a soothing tone, aimed at providing solace to the wounded spider as he started to regain his composure and sit up.
"ANGIE!" Cherri exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and relief. With a burst of urgency, she leaped over the second-floor railing, gracefully landing on the ground floor in a cat-like manner.
"We do have stairs, you know," Vaggie grumbled, expressing her annoyance while making her way down to the first floor using the conventional method. However, Cherri remained too focused on Angel's condition to acknowledge the remark. She knelt down beside him, her gaze shifting rapidly between horror, anger, and a deep longing for retribution as she meticulously assessed every bruise, burn, cut, and injury that marred Angel's body. The sight of his battered state fueled a complex range of emotions within Cherri, intensifying her determination to seek justice for the pain inflicted upon her dear friend.
"What did that bastard do to you?" Cherri's voice seethed with fury as she placed a hand on Angel's shoulder, seeking to comfort him. However, her touch was met with an unexpected response as he tensed and flinched away, a reaction she hadn't encountered from him in years. Instantly, Cherri's anger and hatred dissipated, replaced by shock and confusion. It felt as though he had struck her with his withdrawal. "Angie...?" she uttered, her voice filled with a mix of concern and hurt. The sudden change in their dynamic left her reeling, unsure of how to proceed and desperate to understand what had transpired.
Angel Dust's voice emerged, slightly rough and strained, as he began to explain the events. "Val was having one of his breakups with Vox," he revealed, as though that statement alone would clarify the situation. His words hinted at a connection between Valentino's tumultuous personal life and the torment he had endured. The subtle damage to his throat further emphasized the toll of his experiences, leaving a lingering sense of unease in the air.
"And because of that, you had to stay overnight without a single word?" Vaggie questioned, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration, standing by Charlie's side. Her inquiry aimed to understand why Angel had chosen to endure such suffering in silence, without reaching out for help or communicating his situation to them. The lack of information left her feeling both worried and bewildered.
"Angel...what aren't you telling us?" Charlie's voice held deep concern as she pressed for the truth, her eyes filled with genuine worry. She sensed there was more to the story, something that Angel was keeping to himself. The way he hugged his arms around himself and averted his gaze in shame confirmed her suspicions.
Angel's internal struggle became apparent. He had stood up to Valentino, refusing to be a victim of Vox's actions, but the aftermath of it all had left him feeling emotionally battered and drained. He carried a heavy burden of guilt, even though he had done what he believed was necessary. The weariness in his eyes and the toll of everything that had transpired weighed heavily upon him.
Vaggie's single eye blinked with concern, and her gaze met Charlie's, confirming their shared realization. Angel was breaking under the weight of it all. It became clear that he couldn't subject himself to any more of this torment; he needed their support and protection more than ever.
"This isn't the first time something like this has happened, is it?" Vaggie asked, her voice tinged with concern and frustration. She knelt down on the floor, trying to make herself level with Angel, who was visibly distressed.
Angel's response was not in words, but in a physical gesture. He put a trembling hand to his mouth as though trying to muffle something. His body curled into a protective ball, as if seeking solace and comfort within himself. Vaggie's heart sank at the sight, her empathy for him overriding any irritation she might have felt.
"Angie?" Cherri asked, her voice laced with concern. She yearned to reach out to him, to hold him close and provide the solace she knew he needed. However, every time she attempted to do so, he would tense up and withdraw from her touch. Witnessing him in such anguish, unable to lend a hand, caused her immense pain. She longed to alleviate his suffering, yet he denied her any opportunity to offer assistance.
Charlie moved closer to Angel, a deep concern etched on her face. Her hand trembled as she reached out, hesitating just before making contact. A flood of memories rushed through her mind, reminding her of Angel's confession from a few weeks ago. Though he hadn't explicitly stated it, they all understood the unspeakable horrors he had endured. It was a truth they didn't want to confront, yet couldn't deny. Even Cherri, who seemed more inclined to deny the possibility, wasn't ignorant of the grim reality. This torment had persisted for far too long, and it had to come to an end.
As Charlie raised her gaze to meet her companions once more, a crimson hue tinged her sclera, revealing the fire within her. It was a silent declaration that Valentino had crossed a line, and the time for action had arrived. But before they could confront Valentino, they needed to ensure Angel's safety by getting him far away from the city and the studio—someplace where Valentino could never reach him.
"My family owns a luxurious cabin up north from here," Charlie declared. "I'll give my dad a call to inform him that I'll be using it with some friends. Angel, Cherri, do either of you have any appropriate outdoor gear?"
"I think I do," Cherri chimed in with a hint of determination. "Roughing it is in my blood." She flashed a confident smile, her eyes shining with resolve.
"Born a city dweller," Angel murmured, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. He struggled to rise to his feet, his movements slow and unsteady. The recent collapse had left him disoriented, and the weight of his injuries and the trauma he had endured made every action an uphill battle. His body yearned to remain on the ground, but he knew he couldn't linger in the foyer indefinitely. Furthermore, he couldn't bear the touch of others, even if it was offered as assistance. The gentle touch of Cherri's hand on his shoulder had triggered painful memories of Valentino's relentless assault, causing a surge of fear and anguish.
"The closest I've come to the wilderness is Central Park," he added, his tone tinged with a mixture of longing and melancholy.
"Well," Charlie responded, attempting to sound reassuring. "Luckily, the place is more akin to a private park. We'll have some semblance of safety there. Pack up whatever you both need for at least two weeks. We'll make sure you have everything necessary to get through this." Charlie's voice carried a determined tone, emphasizing their commitment to support Angel and Cherri throughout this challenging journey.
Angel, having shed his jacket and skirt, now donned a white v-neck t-shirt and a pair of gray cargo pants. It was a departure from his usual attire, as he typically strived to maintain a presentable appearance. The change felt oddly liberating, allowing him to dress in a more relaxed and casual manner, albeit far from the usual provocative style he was known for. As he gathered an assortment of shirts, shorts, trousers, and sweaters to pack into a travel bag, the familiar buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts. It was a reminder of his next scheduled engagement, a stark reminder of the life he had to temporarily set aside.
"Yes, Mr. Valentino, sir," Angel replied obediently, though a hidden smirk played on his lips. He relished the fact that he would be far away from the city when the filming took place. While Val was his boss, it was high time for Angel to assert that he was no longer a mere plaything.
Just then, a gentle knock on the door disrupted his thoughts, and Cherri entered, cradling Fat Nuggets in her arms as if he were a precious baby.
"Nugzy has been missing his Papa," Cherri said, her voice tender with affection. The little piglet eagerly reached out his hooves towards Angel, his tiny face beaming with joy. Tears welled up in Angel's eyes as he gazed at his beloved pet. It had felt like an eternity since he had last seen, let alone held, Fat Nuggets. Overwhelmed with emotion, he extended his hands without hesitation, cradling the precious pig in his arms. He held him tightly against his chest, unwilling to let go, as if afraid that his beloved companion would vanish if he didn't hold on with all his might.
"Thank you for taking care of him," Angel whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and vulnerability. He hesitated for a moment, his fear palpable in the air, before summoning the courage to reach out and pull Cherri into a tight embrace. The embrace was a mixture of appreciation and a desperate need for comfort, a silent acknowledgment of the trust and bond they shared. In that moment, Angel allowed himself to lean on Cherri's support, finding solace in her presence amidst the turmoil that surrounded them.
"Hey, he's my baby too," Cherri playfully retorted, her voice filled with affection, as she returned the embrace. "Speaking of which, do you have a carrier or something for him?" she asked, her tone shifting to a more practical concern. Cherri knew that ensuring Fat Nuggets' safety and comfort during their journey was of utmost importance.
"Yeah, it's under the bed," Angel responded, his voice laced with a mixture of weariness and resignation. Cherri immediately knelt down and pulled out the bag, her curiosity piqued. Meanwhile, Angel rummaged through the drawers of his vanity, scanning for any makeup he wanted to bring along for the trip. Carefully selecting his favorites, he placed them in his travel bag, his mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts.
As Cherri placed Fat Nuggets in the carrier bag, the little piglet squealed in protest, not particularly fond of being confined. Angel's attention momentarily shifted as he opened the drawer where he kept his stash of drugs. A moment of hesitation washed over him, realizing that he had been spacing out his drug use lately to make it harder for Charlie or Vaggie to catch him in the act. It had been about four or five days since he last indulged in dust, but now he was faced with the decision of whether to take it with him on his two-week trip.
Deep in contemplation, Angel weighed the pros and cons. Taking the drugs would enable him to maintain his current routine, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he was only resorting to dust because of the shit he had to deal with. It was a coping mechanism, a temporary escape from the pain and pressures that plagued him. But to others, all they would see was a drugged-up whore, trapped in a vicious cycle.
The echoes of the production crew's mocking laughter at the studio still reverberated in Angel's mind. They had dismissed Charlie's genuine efforts to show how he had changed for the better, resorting to repeating Killjoy's words as a means of belittlement.
In any case, that's not even an accomplishment. I'm sure you could get that hooker to do anything with enough booger sugar and lube.
The day of Charlie's interview, he decided to pay a visit to Cherri. Over the past weeks since he had moved into the hotel, Cherri had been reaching out to him persistently through calls and texts. At first, her inquiries were innocent, wondering if his employer was causing him any trouble. But gradually, her messages grew more concerned, questioning his whereabouts and why he wasn't responding.
Then, just before the recent cleanse, Cherri had made a distressing call. She had taken it upon herself to check his old apartment, only to discover from the landlord that he had moved out. No explanation, no information of where he had moved to. It was as if he had packed up and left without a second thought. And after the "Cleanse," a final desperate call from Cherri had come through, pleading for him to reach out and assure her that he was alright.
With the day free and enough time having passed, Angel had felt it was appropriate to provide Cherri with an explanation for his unexplained distance. He also saw this as an opportunity to replenish his dwindling supply of dust, as he had been running low on his last bag. He also would be in a secluded area far from the city's main hub, ensuring that he wouldn't be caught in the act of using.
However, when he stumbled upon Cherri fiercely defending her turf, a wave of loyalty surged through him. They were partners, after all, and their bond went beyond just business. From the moment they formed their partnership, their first rule had always been to be there for each other, no matter what.
And long before then, the final days of his life were shrouded in sorrow. Molly, with tear-filled eyes, would sit beside him, softly whispering and singing Ave Maria and other songs in Latin and Italian. As Angel remained trapped in an endless slumber, it pained him deeply to hear her voice. He yearned to awaken, to hold his beloved Sorellina (little sister) close and reassure her that everything would be alright. But his body remained unresponsive, refusing to move or recover.
The realization hit him hard—his current state was a direct result of his drug use. The habit had started when... when Celani had been taken from him, leaving a void that he sought to fill with temporary escapes. Now, reflecting upon his life and the losses he had endured, he questioned if it had all been worth it.
Gazing into the depths of his past, Angel saw the toll his choices had taken. The pain he had caused himself and those he cared about was immense. The allure of the drugs had promised an escape from reality, but in truth, it had only deepened his suffering. The price he paid had been far too high, robbing him of precious moments, relationships, and opportunities.
With Charlie, Angel had experienced a rare belief in his potential for change. There was something within him, an intangible spark that she saw as capable of transformation. She had extended her trust by inviting him to live in the hotel, offering him a place to stay without charge. From the moment they met, Charlie had shown kindness and compassion towards him, which touched his hardened heart.
But what had Angel done in return? He had betrayed her trust, sneaking drugs behind her back, and making disrespectful remarks about the lack of demons seeking redemption. It pained him to realize how he had tarnished the second chance she had generously given him. The guilt weighed heavily on his conscience.
Yet, escaping the clutches of Valentino, his former employer, seemed almost impossible. Even if Charlie managed to sever ties with the Moth Pimp, the threat of Valentino's vengeance loomed over him. That despicable creature would seize any opportunity to pursue Angel, tormenting him not only in the physical realm but also invading his dreams for years to come. For half of Angel's existence in Hell, he had suffered at the hands of Valentino—bullied, belittled, and beaten. The drugs became his sole refuge, the only means to maintain even a semblance of sanity. And it was Valentino who supplied the drugs, exploiting Angel's vulnerability.
But deep down, Angel yearned for liberation from this cycle of dependence. If only he could break free from the clutches of dust, relinquish his addiction completely...
"I think that's everything," Cherri declared, her tone filled with a mix of determination and concern. Angel closed the drawer to his drugs, a part of him questioning if he was making the right choice. But there was no turning back now; he had committed to facing the challenges ahead without the crutch of drugs. Whatever lay in store, he would have to confront it head-on.
As Angel reached for his pack, he noticed Cherri's eyes lingering on his schedule for the next day. The punky female, always unapologetically herself, picked up the Hellphone and scanned the details before looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. She posed the question, her voice edged with defiance, "You want me to tell him 'fuck you'?"
Angel paused for a moment, considering the proposition. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he met Cherri's gaze. There was a certain satisfaction in the idea of sticking it to whoever was causing him trouble, and Cherri's offer to deliver the message on his behalf appealed to his rebellious nature.
"Nah," Angel sighed, his voice tinged with the exhaustion he was still feeling. "I have a feeling Charlie may be wanting to have that honor."
"So seriously," Cherri inquired, her voice filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. She placed the phone back down on Angel's bedding, her gaze fixed on him intently. "What happened to you last night? I tried reaching out, but you didn't respond to any of my texts or calls. What's going on?"
Angel's demeanor shifted slightly as he hugged his lower arms around himself, a gesture that had become his anxiety tick. It was clear that something was troubling him. Cherri couldn't help but notice the wince that crossed his face as he shouldered his travel bag, indicating some discomfort or pain.
Concern etched into her voice, she called him by his nickname, "Angie...," her tone demanding an honest answer. She cared about him deeply and wanted to understand what he had been going through.
Angel hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting Cherri's unwavering gaze. The weight of his recent struggles was evident in his expression, but he knew he couldn't keep it all to himself. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak, opening up about the turmoil that had consumed him.
"Cherri... I... I had a rough night," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Things... things got messy."
She watched as Angel picked up the phone from the bed, placing it on the vanity table with a trembling hand. His vulnerability was palpable, his pain etched deep into his eyes.
"How messy?" Cherri asked. Due to the conversations she had with Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor she suspected what Angel was implying, but she didn't want to believe it until he said it.
"Do you honestly need me to come out and say it?" Angel admitted. "He fucking raped me alright! He's...he's been doing that since he bought me." A heavy silence filled the room as Angel's words hung in the air. Cherri felt her heart sink, a mixture of anger and sorrow flooding her being. The weight of the truth he had just revealed crashed upon her like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her in a sea of overwhelming emotions. Cherri had always suspected that something sinister lurked behind Valentino's involvement with Angel, but to hear the words spoken out loud shattered her heart. Even with this admission she had trouble believing it.
"What?" Cherri asked, her voice filled with confusion and disbelief. The weight of Angel's revelation sank in, leaving her stunned and struggling to process the information. Alastor's haunting words from the previous night echoed in her mind, adding an unsettling layer to the situation.
"...how can you be so resolute that events more grievous than these sporadic, coerced acts haven't transpired?" How can you be so certain that Valentino has not subjected Angel to even more deplorable actions?"
Taking a deep breath, Cherri steeled herself. She had always been fierce, unyielding, and protective of those she cared about. And now, her resolve burned brighter than ever.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Cherri Bomb nearly screamed, her voice cracking with a mix of anger, hurt, and betrayal. The raw emotions surged through her, threatening to consume everything in their path. She felt a sense of disbelief and deep disappointment, as if a foundation of trust had been shattered.
Her words hung heavy in the air, accusing and wounded. Cherri had always believed in the honesty and openness between them, sharing their struggles and supporting one another through thick and thin. To discover such a devastating truth about Angel, one that had been hidden from her, struck at the very core of their connection.
Tears welled up in her single eye, her voice trembling as she continued, "I thought... I thought we were honest with each other, Angel. I thought we shared everything. Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me?"
Conflicting emotions battled within her. Part of her wanted to understand why he had kept this from her, while another part, a raw and wounded part, struggled to come to terms with the pain of realizing that she had denied herself the truth for far too long. Deep down, she realized that she had always sensed something was wrong, but had chosen to bury that intuition beneath a facade of denial.
It was hard for Cherri to fully grasp the monstrous reality that Angel had endured. The thought of someone she loved and cared for suffering in such a way was almost too much to bear. The pain she felt now, in learning the truth from his own lips, cut through her heart like a jagged blade. The weight of the silence between them felt unbearable.
"Cherri..." Angel's voice trembled with a mix of pain and urgency. He could no longer keep this burden hidden. "Do you know how many times Val has threatened you in front of me? The vile things he's said, the horrifying things he's wanted to do to you?"
His words hung in the air, revealing a new layer of darkness that had haunted him. Angel had been forced to listen to Valentino's twisted desires and malicious intentions, all directed towards Cherri. The weight of those threats had pressed heavily upon him, causing fear and despair to intertwine within his soul.
"I'm not afraid of him," Cherri stated firmly, her voice laced with determination. The weight of the revelations, though shocking, only fueled her inner fire. She refused to let fear control her, especially when it came to facing the despicable Valentino.
"But I fear for you," Angel's voice trembled with a mix of protectiveness and genuine concern. Cherri could hear the weight of his words, laced with a brotherly love that she had rarely witnessed from him before. He had faced Valentino's torments in the past, and now he couldn't bear the thought of the same horrors befalling someone he had come to care about so deeply.
His voice cracked with vulnerability as he continued, sharing the painful reality of the situation. "Valentino targets my coworkers, using them as a means to punish me. He tells them that they are suffering because of me, even though it's all twisted lies. Just last night, I was assaulted because of Vox and Valentino's breakup. I had nothing to do with it, yet I was made to suffer. If Valentino gets his hands on you, he would use our partnership against us. He would drill into your mind that everything you endure is because of me."
Angel's voice grew softer, filled with a deep sorrow. "I know you're strong, Cherri. Stronger than most. But I've seen people with that same mindset, and they've all broken under Valentino's torture. He knows how to manipulate, how to break even the strongest spirits. I can't bear the thought of losing you or Nuggz to his cruelty. I've already lost too much..."
Cherri felt a knot tighten in her chest as she absorbed the weight of Angel's words. The pain and desperation in his voice were palpable, reminding her of the countless nightmares he had endured. She had seen glimpses of the darkness that haunted him, but now it all became painfully clear.
"But he's hurting you," Cherri's voice trembled with a mixture of determination and anguish as she held onto Angel tightly. Her arms wrapped around him, offering a protective embrace. "And that hurts me deeply. I can't bear the thought of losing you to Valentino, to the Princess, to anyone. You may see me as a friend and a sister, but know that I love you and care about you more than words can express, Angie. You mean everything to me."
Her words poured forth with an unwavering honesty, her voice filled with emotion. Cherri's heart ached at the pain Angel had endured, the torment he had faced for far too long. She wanted to be there for him, to fight alongside him, and to witness the day when Valentino would be erased from their lives.
With fierce determination burning in her eyes, Cherri continued, her voice tinged with resolve. "We made a promise to each other, Angie. We vowed to be partners until the bitter end, and I won't let anything break that bond. Your pain is my pain, and I refuse to stand idly by while you suffer. I want to see that coward pay for what he's done to you."
A determination to protect and free Angel surged through Cherri's veins. She spoke with unwavering conviction, her voice laced with a hint of rebellion. "I'll do whatever it takes to become an Overlord myself, to gain the power needed to free you from Valentino's grasp. I don't care if it condemns me to Hell for all eternity. The prospect of Heaven seems meaningless if you're not there with me. We've shared countless wild nights, danced through Hell's streets together, and I can't imagine a world without you by my side."
"If you did get to Heaven, there is someone specific in there I'd like you to find," Angel said, catching Cherri's attention as she stepped out of the small hotel room. Unbeknownst to her, he discreetly placed his studio-issued phone and charger into his travel bag.
"Really, who would that be?" Cherri inquired curiously as Angel joined her outside, locking the door to his room as they proceeded towards the lobby.
"Everyone packed?" Charlie asked, oblivious to the ongoing conversation, as she unintentionally interrupted their discussion.
"Yep," Angel confirmed.
"I am too," Cherri replied.
"It's going to be a long trip," Charlie admitted, recognizing the distance they had to cover. "So Vaggie is making sure there are blankets in the town car. Since the Cabin will be in use, it will be stocked with any food items we need, and everything will be prepared for our arrival."
"So it's just going to be the four of us?" Angel inquired, his voice laced with curiosity.
"Naturally, my dear fellow," Alastor commented, his smile tightening as he spoke. "It's imperative that someone remains stationed here to ensure that the likes of Valentino and his questionable associates are kept at bay, preventing any tomfoolery during your absence on this escapade."
His crimson eyes glimmered with a mixture of amusement and calculation as he surveyed the room. Alastor was always one step ahead, his mind a web of schemes and strategies. It pleased him to be the guardian of order, to ensure that chaos did not reign, at least chaos he didn't start himself. His gloved hand delicately adjusted his crimson bowtie, a symbol of his unwavering confidence. Alastor reveled in the challenge, relished the opportunity to outwit the cunning devils that plagued this wretched city.
"As you set forth on your quaint expedition, my cherished comrades, I shall stand vigilant as the unwavering sentinel, keeping a watchful gaze upon your endeavors." he declared, his tone turning steely. "Valentino and his associates shall not dare to even utter a sneeze without my astute awareness. Their malevolent schemes shall meet their demise, and their intricate webs of deception shall be unspun for all to see." His smile widened, revealing a row of perfectly sharpened teeth. Alastor was not a man to be taken lightly, and his reputation as the Radio Demon preceded him. The mere thought of his presence sent shivers down the spines of those who dared cross his path.
"And so, my companions, march forth with determination," he concluded, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Indulge in the pleasures of your sojourn through this wicked realm, as I stand sentinel to thwart any folly during your absence. The Radio Demon shall continue his unassailable rule, and that trio of charlatans shall swiftly comprehend the toll of challenging the one and only Alastor."
"Yah done," Angel groused, his voice dripping with impatience. "You could've just said, 'Enjoy the trip, things are in good hands,' and saved the long-winded theatrics."
"Well, well, well, would you look at that? Despite all the recent experiences you've been through, seems like that sour-tempered spirit of yours hasn't gone anywhere." Alastor snarked, a twisted smile playing on his lips. His words dripped with a hint of mockery, directed at Angel's comment. However, hidden within his snarky remark was a dark glint in Alastor's eyes, an indication that he held no qualms about causing harm to the spider himself if the urge struck him.
"Before we leave," Charlie said hesitantly, her voice filled with concern. "Angel, I know this might make you uncomfortable, but it's crucial for us to gather evidence of the abuse you've endured. I'll need some photos of your injuries, enough to establish physical evidence of what you've been through."
Charlie's words hung in the air, and he could sense Angel's unease. She understood the sensitivity of the situation, knowing that capturing such images could be distressing and even triggering for Angel. Yet, she also knew that having concrete evidence would be instrumental if Valentino's actions were to be exposed.
You're not planning...," Angel asked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern. His eyes locked with Charlie's, searching for reassurance and clarity.
Charlie understood the uncertainty in Angel's question. He had been through so much, and the thought of potentially exposing his injuries had to be overwhelming.
"I am not going to press charges against him," Charlie said firmly, her voice carrying a mix of determination and concern. "Even with physical proof, he may still have a stronger legal position than we do. However, by agreeing to be a part of this hotel, you are under my protection. You've bravely shared the details of what's been happening, and it deeply concerns me. But I cannot solely rely on your word, especially since Valentino could manipulate the situation to make it seem like you're fabricating everything."
Charlie's eyes met Angel's, conveying his commitment to their safety. "The injuries you currently have are tangible evidence that can support our cause. Additionally, once we reach the cabin, I plan on having a serious conversation with him. I won't let him escape the weight of his actions, and I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety and well-being."
"Weren't the benefits of joining," Angel pointed out, his voice laced with a touch of frustration. "I was told I would free rent, food and protection from the constant hazards of Hell. But Val's actions definitely don't fall under those benefits."
"You're right, they don't," Charlie conceded, her voice filled with palpable determination. "However, I can't just stand by and know a guest of my hotel is being seriously hurt by the whims of an overlord. So given the circumstances, as the Princess of Hell and Heir to the throne, I am placing you and Cherri under my protection for as long as you are residents of this hotel." Her words carried a sense of authority and commitment, as she made it clear that she would do whatever it took to ensure their safety within her domain.
"Val's not gonna make things easy for ya," Angel warned, his voice dripping with a mix of skepticism and concern. He had seen firsthand the lengths Val would go to cause trouble, and he knew that Charlie's decision to protect the guests would not sit well with the overlord. Despite his warning, Angel also admired Charlie's determination and couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that things might turn out differently this time.
"I am prepared for that," Charlie answered authoritatively, her voice carrying a resolute tone. She had anticipated Val's resistance and understood the challenges that lay ahead. But her commitment to protecting her guests and fighting for a better future outweighed any doubts or fears.
"You're also going to need at least some of those tended to," Husk grumbled, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. He recognized the importance of protecting the guests, but he couldn't help but point out the practicality of addressing their injuries as well. "Unless you think having scars is a good look for you. I can use the storage room behind the bar as a makeshift infirmary. I'm not an expert in photography, so I don't know how good the lighting there would be for photos of anything."
Husk's pragmatic nature shone through as he offered a solution to the immediate physical needs of those under Charlie's protection. Though his grumbling tone remained, there was an underlying willingness to contribute in his own way, using the resources available to him to assist in any way he could.
"Okay," Angel said, acknowledging the reasoning behind documenting his injuries. He understood that having physical evidence would strengthen their case against Valentino, even if the idea made him uneasy. It was akin to reporting to a higher authority about one's actions, ensuring accountability and justification. However, Angel couldn't deny his discomfort with the idea. "Exactly what parts of my body do ya need pictures of?" he asked, a touch of hesitance in his voice. While willing to comply, he couldn't deny the sense of unease due to the violation he had felt previously. If they could have left without him having to expose his humiliation to another person he would have prefered that.
"Oh, right," Charlie responded, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her. It hadn't crossed her mind the personal and potentially uncomfortable nature of capturing the photos. She realized her oversight and regretted not considering the sensitivity of the situation.
"I'm really sorry, Angel," she apologized, her voice filled with genuine remorse. "I didn't think about how invasive it could be. Your comfort and dignity are important, and I shouldn't have overlooked that." Charlie's willingness to admit her mistake and prioritize Angel's well-being was evident in her sincere words.
"I'll uh..." Husk volunteered, his tone slightly gruff as he took the initiative to guide Angel towards the supply closet. "I'll take care of that. And as for you, Legs, no thoughts on getting fresh with me, got it? I'm only doing this as a favor."
Husk's remark carried a hint of caution, ensuring that Angel understood the boundaries and the purely practical nature of their arrangement. Despite his gruff exterior, there was an underlying willingness to help, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone to handle the task at hand.
The hours ticked by slowly as they journeyed down the road, leaving the city behind. Cherri, sprawled on the side bench seat, snored blissfully with one arm draped over her eye. Vaggie, seeking comfort, had curled up on the adjacent bench seat, her hair cascading over her like a protective shield. Charlie, sitting beside Vaggie, immersed herself in reviewing the photographs of Angel's injuries that Husk had sent her. With each image, her heart ached, struggling to comprehend the cruelty someone could inflict upon another being.
Charlie was well aware that Hell housed demons who had been abhorrent in their mortal lives, transforming into monstrous versions of their former selves in the afterlife. However, she had never encountered such extreme brutality firsthand. Reflecting on the decades of suffering Angel had endured, she couldn't fathom how he had managed to withstand such treatment. There were demons in Hell who possessed greater physical strength than Angel, yet they would crumble under similar abuse. The injuries to his right eye, in particular, concerned her. Despite demons' innate ability to heal rapidly, there was a possibility of permanent damage or the need for specialized assistance for proper healing.
Her mind wrestled with the decision of whether to summon a doctor upon their arrival, considering the severity of Angel's injuries. She contemplated the potential benefits of seeking professional medical advice to ensure there were no hidden complications or risks. However, Charlie also recognized the heightened stress levels everyone was already experiencing, and the inclusion of a stranger into their midst might add to that burden. In the end, she decided to wait and see how things developed, hoping that Angel's resilience would prevail and that his injuries would heal without further intervention.
Turning off her Hellphone, Charlie began to settle down and prepare for some much-needed rest when she heard the sound of someone softly crying. She turned her gaze towards Angel and noticed his lanky frame curled up under the blanket. Despite the bandages covering a nasty gash on his upper back, his face buried in the pillow, his shoulders trembled as if he was holding back tears. It was evident that he was grappling with the horrors he had experienced the previous night.
The scarlet tint in Charlie's eyes intensified as she contemplated the depths of depravity Valentino had sunk to, inflicting such pain upon the porn star. It was an act driven by vengeance, an unfair and unjust punishment for reasons that Charlie couldn't fathom. Suppressing her anger, she approached Angel cautiously, mindful of his vulnerability and potential for an outburst.
Gently, she reached out and touched his shoulder blade, causing his body to flinch in response. Charlie had anticipated this reaction, knowing that Angel might redirect his anger towards her. Regardless, she was determined to be there for him, offering her support and understanding during this difficult time. Whether he chose to express his emotions or not, Charlie was resolved to be a comforting presence, standing by his side throughout his healing process.
"It's alright," Charlie softly reassured him, her hand gently moving up and down his back in soothing circles. "I heard you crying in your sleep, so I just wanted to check if you were okay." Angel remained still for a moment, his hand gliding across his face before he rolled over to face her. His right eye was hidden beneath a layer of gauze, swollen and bruised, forcing him to gaze up at her with his darker left eye. There was no anger in his expression, only a hint of self-consciousness at being caught in such a vulnerable state.
Charlie didn't smile down at him; there was little to smile about in their current situation. The four of them were fleeing into the night, desperately putting distance between themselves and Valentino. Even upon returning to the hotel, there was no guarantee that Valentino wouldn't attempt to claim Angel or harm anyone else he cared about in a vengeful act of retribution.
Understanding the weight of their circumstances, Charlie maintained a solemn yet compassionate demeanor. Her presence beside him conveyed her commitment to protecting him and her determination to confront the threats they faced. She would do everything in her power to ensure their safety and bring an end to the cycle of abuse inflicted by Valentino.
She continued to run soothing circles along Angel's back, refraining from speaking or offering words of comfort. In the silence between them, the weight of their uncertain journey loomed large. Charlie understood that sometimes words were inadequate, and simply being there, providing a touch of solace, could convey more than any spoken reassurance.
For Angel, shedding tears was a private act he preferred to keep hidden. Unlike Val or his father, Charlie didn't criticize him for his vulnerability. Instead, she silently ran her hand along his back, allowing him the space to express his pain if he chose to. The comforting gesture reminded him of his mother, how she would console him and his siblings during times of sickness or distress in their childhood.
As minutes ticked by, slumber finally found its way to Angel. Sensing his growing calm, Charlie ceased her soothing touch and quietly stood up, giving him the space he needed to rest. She observed him for a moment, making sure he was settled before moving away, allowing him the peace and privacy to drift off into a much-needed sleep.
"Sleep well, Angel," Charlie whispered softly, her voice filled with care and warmth, before she made her way back to where Vaggie lay sleeping. With a tender touch, she gently brushed her fingers through Vaggie's hair, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for their deep connection. Settling beside her lover, Charlie closed her eyes, finding solace in their shared presence and the comforting embrace of sleep.
Angel quietly observed the two girls, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he witnessed the depth of love they had for each other. It brought him a sense of peace, knowing that he was surrounded by such genuine care and affection. With a quiet sigh, he closed his own eyes, surrendering to the embrace of slumber that had eluded him for so long. Finally, he found rest, carried away by the comforting embrace of sleep.