As Angel turned on the shower to let the water warm up in the bathroom, he began gathering his night clothes. Just as he was about to remove his top, a soft tap on his bedroom door caught his attention, and the door slowly opened. Cherri, with a gentle smile, entered the room. Angel glanced at her coolly for a moment before resuming pulling his top over his head.
"Hey…" the cyclops said, shifting uncomfortably. "About earlier…"
"I dun't wanna tawk about it," Angel stated dismissively, his fingers deftly undoing the bandages that covered his chest. He wasn't angry with her, but he wasn't happy with her actions regarding it.
"Come on…" Cherri protested. "I've been feeling left out all day. I'm your friend, aren't I? I should have a say in everything that is happening."
Angel paused, looking at Cherri with a mix of frustration and understanding in his eyes. "I know ya's my pal," he replied, his tone softening a bit. "But the stuff happenin' today, the sit down with Valentino... that was tough enough for me to even allow. And now, knowin' the dames upstairs, and I reckon ya figured out who Pops and Fratello are. Yeah, ya figgered it out on yer own, but that's still dangerous, considerin' what my family's known for... what my Pops and Brother are known for. And even then, both are touchy subjects."
"I really don't like that they feel they can decide what's best for you," Cherri defended. "I know you better than they do, so why are you punishing me for that?"
Angel looked at Cherri, his expression softening as he realized the depth of her concern. "Cherri, it ain't about punishin' ya," he replied earnestly. "I appreciate ya care 'bout me and know me well, but this is 'bout me figurin' things out on my own too? Things have changed with me no longer with the studio, and whatever's gonna happen when we get back to the city, I need space to process things and make my own decisions, even if they might not seem right at first, ya know? "
"I don't want ya to feel left out," he continued, "But I also don't wanna rely solely on others to make choices for me, ya know? It's important for me to learn and grow through my experiences, even the difficult ones."
Cherri nodded, understanding his perspective. "I get it," she said softly. "I just wish I could protect you from any pain or hardship."
"I know," Angel said, appreciating her caring nature. "And I'm grateful for that, ya know? But life's full of ups and downs, and I gotta face 'em too. Your support means a lot to me, though I'm disappointed in your behavior. That blow-up ya had upstairs made ya look unhinged. And that don't exactly make me look good either."
"So you think I'm the one at fault for caring about you?" Cherri protested. "They were discussing whether a doctor who is part of this place should see you."
"Charlie has mentioned that to me," Angel stated. "I have said I would prefer not to do that because I can deal with my own stuff."
"Right..." Cherri said skeptically. "Like you can deal with Valentino." She immediately regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. "Wait... Angie... I did not mean that."
"Penso che tu l'abbia fatto...(I think you did...)" Angel responded, his voice filled with disbelief as he turned toward the punky girl. A mix of emotions flashed across his face, including a sense of betrayal, as he tightly gripped her arm and forcefully led her out of the room. "I need to take a shower...we'll talk in the mornin'!"After closing the door, he locked it with an air of detachment. He proceeded to remove the remaining clothing and bandages, his expression stoic and unyielding. Meanwhile, Cherri stood outside, desperately pleading with him to open up and let her in.
"Angie..." Cherri's voice trembled with tears as she begged, pounding on the door. "Angie, please...I'm sorry about what I said. Don't shut me out, Angel... Please...I'm sorry." Her words carried a mix of regret and desperation, hoping to reach his heart and mend the fractured connection between them.
~I'm not the one you really should be apologizin' to~ Angel thought to himself, his mind wrestling with conflicting emotions. As Cherri continued to plead outside the door, he couldn't help but think about the person he felt truly was owed an apology. Meanwhile, he could hear Charlie, the ever-compassionate person she was,, coming down to console the distressed girl, offering her comfort in this difficult moment.
"Just give him his space for now," Charlie suggested from outside, her voice filled with empathy. Charlie was gradually able to get Cherri to walk away, giving Angel some needed some time alone. Inside the bathroom, the steam from the shower filled the air, fogging up the mirrors and glass doors. Angel adjusted the water, allowing the dual rainfall showerheads hanging from the ceiling wash over him. As the warm water cascaded down his body, his sore and bruised muscles began to relax, providing some relief from the physical and emotional strain he had endured.
"You have suffered enough and been alone for too long…" Charlie's words echoed in his mind as he closed his eyes, leaning his back against the steam-warmed red marble tiles of the shower. The wounds that still remained exposed stung and protested, a painful reminder of recent events. However, he had become accustomed to pain, a sensation he had known even before his time in Hell. Healing or not, the scars would be a constant reminder of his struggles, but he had already endured so much. A few more scars seemed insignificant in the face of everything he had been through.
"Hey, 'Grumble Dust'! Do you know how to interact with people or do actually prefer solitude over socializing?"
"From here on...you are on your own. I ain't lettin' yah drag me down with yah. I don't even know why I bothered thinkin' yah could change, given the shit you've pulled."
"I must leave for now, Fratello. I promise to return first thing tomorrow and be by your side until... Please know that I love you dearly and miss you, Fratello Majore. We are family, and our bond will endure forever. Famiglia per sempre (Family forever)."
"You mean the world to me, dolce tesoro (sweet treasure). You are far from worthless, mio prezioso (my precious one). Anyone who dares to call you names or belittle you must be blind, for there is so much to love about you. Your smile is pure magic, and your laughter is like a symphony to my ears. It breaks my heart to see you in pain and know that you are hurt by that bitter old man."
"Ti voglio bene, Anthony (I love you, Anthony). You should never have to endure pain and fear. You deserve so much better; you should be in a place where happiness, love, and acceptance surround you. I'll do everything in my power to support you and help you find that place."
As he opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the cascading water, which concealed his silent tears streaming down his cheeks. He yearned for the water to wash away not just his tears but also the pain and burden he carried within.
The night wore on with an uncomfortable silence that enveloped the house. Charlie hadn't spoken much to Cherri since she had gently guided the other girl away from Angel's bedroom door. Instead, she had arranged for Cherri to sleep in the living room, hoping to address the situation with Angel in the morning when emotions were less intense. The atmosphere was filled with emotional energy, affecting each of them in different ways.
Angel was finally free from Valentino's clutches, but now he needed time to process what that meant for his life moving forward. The purpose of their vacation had been to provide him with a chance to rest and escape from the city, away from the abusive and manipulative control of Valentino. It was a freedom he had never experienced under the Moth's reign.
However, the Blond Princess was troubled by Angel's reaction when she showed him the image of Henroin with Arackniss and another Spider Demon. His unpatched eye fixated on Henroin as if he were facing a terrifying and heartless monster from his darkest nightmares. He sat up in bed so abruptly that he must have experienced a headrush, causing him to faint. While he was unconscious, the Princess overheard him pleading with someone he referred to as "Pops" to stop something.
The heart-wrenching words echoed in the Blond Princess's mind as she recalled Angel's unconscious plea. "Please...Pops stop! Per favore, papà (Please, dad)! Don't do this...Mi dispiace (I'm sorry)...please just stop." The realization that he had experienced such pain and trauma at the hands of his own family weighed heavily on her.
His voice had taken on a terrified, childlike quality, leaving the Blond Princess to wonder if this vision was a horrifying memory from Angel's childhood. Her heart ached as she tried to piece together what was happening in that vision and what role Henroin played in it. Was Henroin hurting Angel, or was it someone else? All she could discern was that Angel was so frightened that he had curled into a fetal position, seeking protection by hugging his knees tightly to his chest.
Drawing from her previous experience of calming him, she gently traced circles on his back to encourage relaxation and soothe his distress. As the tension began to ease, she delicately ran her fingers through his hair, reminiscent of how her mother had comforted her during moments of distress in her own childhood. Slowly, she helped him find his way back to consciousness, hoping to be a source of solace during this difficult time. Her love for him compelled her to provide the support and care he needed, assuring him that he was not alone in facing his fears and traumas.
Then, of course, there was Cherri herself. While the female cyclope had seemingly intended to come to Angel's aid this evening, her actions were still inappropriate and crossed a line. Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that this hostility had been building up before tonight's incident. Instead of making accusations, she wanted to approach the matter calmly and rationally.
Charlie knew it was essential to address this emotional outburst later on when everyone had a chance to cool down and think more clearly. She understood that tensions were high and emotions were running wild, but it was crucial for them to find a way to communicate openly and constructively. Acknowledging the need for healthy communication and setting boundaries would be essential in preventing further misunderstandings and conflicts within the group.
Angel sighed as he dried his hair with a towel, a reminder of one of the downsides of being a Spider Demon: the fur that covered his body. He knew not all Spider Demons had this issue, but it seemed like he needed a full-body blow dryer every time he took a bath. In Hell, such conveniences were available at spas and grooming establishments in Pentagram City, and even his makeup team used one at the studio during shower breaks between sessions.
However, the rustic cabin they were staying in lacked such modern amenities. It was a stark contrast to the luxuries he was accustomed to. Despite the inconvenience, he tried to embrace the simplicity of their surroundings, finding some comfort in the escape from the chaotic city life. The natural ambiance of the cabin was a much-needed reprieve, even if it meant forgoing some creature comforts. With a small smile, he decided to make the most of their time here, cherishing the chance to connect with nature and the company of his friends in a different setting.
Angel carefully chose his nightwear, slipping into a well-worn gray top adorned with a rose print on the chest and a pair of pink flannel trousers. His nightwear style was far more relaxed than his meticulously crafted daily outfits. Off the clock and free to rest, he sought comfort in clothing that felt like a trusted and beloved friend. Many of his choices leaned towards feminine or unisex styles, but few in Hell realized that his preference was for casual and comfortable attire, rather than the formal wear or provocative garments he donned for his studio job.
One item that bridged both sides of himself was the striped Valentino jacket he often wore, paired with a short black skirt or shorts, and complemented by thigh-high boots. The outfit struck a balance between casual and sophistication, serving as his protective armor. It allowed him to present a hard exterior while maintaining the right touch of softness, ensuring he didn't come across as overtly intimidating or threatening. At the same time, these garments shielded the vulnerable and wounded soul that lay bare beneath, a reminder of the complexity and depth of his true self.
As Angel gazed at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. With his newfound freedom from Valentino and the porn studio, he had the opportunity to redefine who he wanted to be. Yet, as he examined the bruising around his right eye, he couldn't ignore the physical toll his past had taken on him.
Feeling headachey and weak, he considered Charlie's suggestion that he hadn't eaten enough. He recalled the morning's meager breakfast of oatmeal with banana and strawberries, though any remnants of that were coughed up when he had been violently ill earlier. The struggle with drug cravings remained, as part of his constant battle to escape the painful memories and horrors that haunted his mind long before he arrived in Hell. These were memories he desperately wished he could erase.
Stepping out of the bath, Angel settled himself onto the lavish king sized bed. He didn't hear Cherri, which meant she had either retired for the night or Charlie had set her up on one of the couches upstairs. He unlocked his bedroom door, deciding that he probably wouldn't hear from her for the rest of the night.
Throughout the day, he had noticed Cherri displaying a somewhat petulant attitude. He understood her desire to save him from Valentino, but her impulsiveness and reactivity could be a weakness against someone as sadistic and dangerous as Val. Angel knew firsthand the horrors Val was capable of inflicting on those he considered his "toys," and with Vox and Velvette also being formidable foes, they needed to exercise caution.
The cabin estate provided some safety, being on private land owned by the Morning Stars and equipped with protections to deter unwanted guests. It was vital to keep their presence here as discreet as possible, to prevent Valentino from knowing the specifics of who was at the cabin. As far as Val was concerned, Charlie was here, along with Vaggie, who often acted as a bodyguard for her. This would make it plausible that Angel would be here too, hidden from the Moth's reach.
But beyond their trio, Val couldn't confirm who else might be present or still in the city, and that uncertainty was their advantage. It allowed them to act with a level of secrecy that was crucial in avoiding potential confrontations with the more powerful and unpredictable figures in Hell's power structure.
Settling down into bed, Angel turned off the light, hoping that sleep would bring relief to the relentless jackhammer pounding in his skull. As he nestled into the soft covers, a wave of weakness washed over him, and then everything went blank.
In the darkness of slumber, Angel's mind found a brief respite from the haunting memories and pains that plagued him. The exhaustion of the day's events took over, gently pulling him into a state of restful oblivion.
Charlie sat up in bed, her eyes widening at the sound of a distressed squealing noise coming from downstairs. Next to her, Vaggie also jolted awake, the worry evident on her face as they exchanged concerned glances.
"That sounds like Nuggz," Cherri called out from the sitting room as she tossed aside her blankets and rushed down the stairs. The other two female demons appeared on the landing, curious about the commotion.
"I'm going to see what's going on," Vaggie told Charlie with concern before she hurried after the female cyclops. "Get Dr. Abaddon on the phone, he may be needed."
"Right," Charlie said, grabbing the phone and dialing the private physician who lived on the mountain estate.
"Hello," a tired but warm-hearted voice responded.
"Hi... Dr. Abaddon," Charlie answered. "This is Charlie..."
"Ah, Charlotte," Dr. Abaddon answered. "So good to hear from you. Are you at the cabin?"
"Yes," Charlie tried to explain as simply as she could. "Anyway, I have some guests at the cabin with me, and one of them is..."
"CHARLIE!" Vaggie yelled up with alarm. "HE'S HAVING A SEIZURE!"
"One of them needs medical assistance," Charlie responded.
"I will be there at once," the doctor firmly answered.
As he opened his eyes, his mind felt thick and foggy. He could hear Cherri trying to comfort Nuggz, using the small Hellborn pig as a proxy to console herself. Upstairs, Charlie and Vaggie were talking to an unfamiliar male voice, but he didn't sense any maliciousness or ill intent. Earlier, Charlie mentioned a doctor and questioned whether he should be called. His presence now suggested that something serious had happened, prompting her to summon him.
"Angie..." Cherri asked? The Punky Cyclops must have noticed he was starting to regain consciousness.
"What..." He groggily said as he sat up and looked around the room. The last thing he remembered was lying down for the night, and then he felt like he was about to pass out - a strange feeling to experience when he was already lying down. His head was pounding, and he wished he could put his brain on ice to relieve the pain. On top of that, he was feeling uncomfortably warm. "What happened?"
He glanced around the room, trying to reorient himself. Okay, this room was not familiar, but he knew he was here for a reason. He was at a cabin, it looked like. Yes, Charlie had brought him up to a cabin estate where Valentino couldn't get to him. After...after the Moth did something horrible.
"You tell me...," Cherri responded. Her tone wasn't cold or angry, but it was clear she wasn't happy about something. "When was the last time you used?"
"Maybe six or eight days ago," Angel answered, not quite grasping what Cherri was driving at.
"So you're going cold turkey and didn't tell me," Cherri demanded. "When were you going to let me know?! Did you think you could keep me in the dark until the moment you're crawling on the floor, practically crying out in pain for a fix?! I practically had to search through your travel bag to see if you brought any 'Dust' with you, and that's when I came across something else you didn't let me know about. Val has been sending his love and affections by blowing up your phone all day." Cherri cleared her throat and proceeded to read out some of the texts that Valentino had sent since the phone call with Charlie.
'Angel Dust, call me this instant!'
'Angel...Daddy is getting annoyed...get on the phone right NOW!'
"You think just because the Princess of Hell has you under her protection, you can do what you want?! I own you...your scrawny ass is bought and paid for. And you know I have the connections to turn the city against that silly hotel."
"You honestly think Princess 'Goody-goody Two-shoes' gives any shits about you? Nah, Angel Cakes, she's only using you for her own ends, just like...like," Cherri paused as she read, her single eye trying to make sense of what was on the screen. She sat down on the bed, her tone changing from upset to confused. "Like that skanky, one-eyed bitch you pal around with, and every lover you've ever had."
"Cherri..." Angel whispered, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I don't need to hear any more." His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. Cherri gently closed the phone, her heart aching for him, yet unsure of what to say.
Glancing over her shoulder at the sound of people trundling down the stairs, Cherri rose from the chair, putting the phone down on one of the bedside tables. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as her thoughts raced. It was evident that Angel was going through a difficult time, and she wanted to be there for him, to support him in any way she could.
As the voices outside the room grew louder, Cherri decided to stay by his side, offering her silent presence as a source of comfort. No words were needed right now; sometimes, just being there could mean the world to someone in distress.
"Angel," Charlie said with genuine concern and a hint of relief in her voice. "Are you okay?"
"I think so," Angel responded, trying to sound composed despite the turmoil he felt within. He shook his head gently, as if to clear the cobwebs clouding his thoughts. However, the effects of whatever was troubling him were evident, as he began to feel woozy again. A subtle tremor passed over his skinny frame, betraying the emotional and physical strain he was under.
"You gave us all a scare," Charlie said calmly. "Just to be on the safe side, I asked Dr. Abaddon to do a medical check-up on you. He's my family's private physician, and he's someone I trust implicitly. If this is uncomfortable, I understand, but I want to have some idea of what is happening rather than taking chances. So, can you allow him to give you a look over?"
Angel considered Charlie's words and knew that princess only had his best interests at heart. Despite feeling a bit reluctant, he realized that getting checked by a trusted physician might be the right thing to do. With a nod of consent, he silently agreed to the examination.
Charlie stepped aside, making way for Dr. Abaddon, a tall and composed figure who entered the room with an air of authority. The locust demon had a face resembling Valentino's, but with distinct differences —Abaddon's skin was a warm brown with a pair of soft, studious gold eyes. His casual attire, tan tweed pants, white shirt, and a gold and green argyle print sweater, seemed out of place for a doctor, but Angel understood that this was a house call made after hours from the doctor's regular duties.
"Hello..." Dr. Abaddon greeted kindly, his warm voice reaching out to Angel. "May I call you Angel?"Angel gave no consenting response, instead, he could feel his mind slowly beginning to fog over again. "Charlie has told me about your situation, and I'm here to help. You're in good hands."
Charlie noticed that Angel did look rather tired and weak as he sat up. Darkened circles had formed under his eyes, giving him an owlish expression as if he had been observing the locust demon for quite some time. Despite his weariness, Angel tried to maintain a sense of composure, though his posture betrayed a discomfort in being in the presence of an unfamiliar demon.
"Anyways," the doctor began as he opened his medical bag and retrieved a stethoscope. "Charlie and her companion have informed me that you experienced a medical issue moments ago. Can you recall what happened?"
"I just 'member hittin' the hay." Angel said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "And then, I think I may have taken a nosedive into the dark."
"You had a seizure, Angel," Vaggie started, her tone reminiscent of how she responded when he had asked her about who Alastor was. Not angry or irritated, but with a mix of confusion and suspicion. "If it wasn't for Nugget's squealing, who knows what could have happened." Abaddon attentively listened to the Spider's heartbeat while another of his four limbs monitored Angel's pulse.
"Has he experienced episodes like this before?" Abaddon inquired, his concern evident in his voice.
"Not that I know of," Charlie said, her expression troubled. "Though the night before we arrived..."
"Hold that thought," Abaddon interrupted the Princess's words as he noticed something concerning. He then turned his focus back to his patient. "Angel, I am going to need you to lay back and roll onto your side." Taking Angel's shoulders in a firm but gentle grasp, the older demon guided the younger man so he rested against the pillows. Angel didn't resist, his eyes displaying a mixture of fear and awareness, as if he understood what Abaddon was implying.
"What's happening?" Charlie asked, her concern deepening as she watched the situation unfold.
"It might be best if you didn't watch," Dr. Abaddon sighed, understanding the distress it could cause Charlie to see what was about to happen.
"Charlie, let's just go outside," Vaggie gently attempted to coax the other girl out of the room. "You shouldn't have to see this." She turned to Cherri, suggesting that she should leave as well. However, before they could exit, there was a horrified gasp from Charlie as Angel's eyes rolled back. His body went rigid, and he began to convulse, his breaths turning into an almost choking rattle while white foam formed at his mouth. Cherri was also clearly distressed, her hands covering her face as she watched the distressing scene unfold.
Dr. Abaddon remained composed during the episode, taking a pen out of his sweater pocket and carefully holding Angel's tongue out of the way to prevent him from inadvertently biting down on it. Vaggie pulled Charlie into her arms, offering comfort as the blond princess broke down into tears on her shoulder, overwhelmed by the distressing situation.
*1929*
In a dimly lit cell, with the air heavy and oppressive, Anthony sat on a bare cot. His face was slack, and his vacant gaze was fixed on the dull gray walls. Time seemed to blur together as he pondered how long he had been trapped within these confines – weeks, maybe even months. The weight of his thoughts was interrupted by memories of the treatments that had become his daily torment.
Doctors, draped in their sterile white coats, had deemed him a potential victim of homosexuality, a label that had thrust him into a nightmarish cycle of corrective therapies. The methods they employed were nothing short of horrifying. Electro-shock sessions jolted through his body, leaving him trembling for hours afterward. Insulin shock therapies were even worse, distorting his perception of time, rendering days into fleeting minutes. Emerging from those induced comas, he would find himself trapped within a zombie-like daze, disconnected from his surroundings.
Only when a semblance of awareness clawed its way back did the doctors appear, evaluating the effectiveness of their cruel interventions. Photographs of nude women were presented to him – a cruel test to ascertain any stirring within him. Did he feel desire? Arousal? Anthony's honest response was emptiness. The images evoked nothing in him, but he couldn't fathom the purpose behind these trials. At fifteen (Was he still fifteen?) he understood the societal expectations of attraction, but he was trapped in a mire of confusion and pain.
His concentration was often punctured by the cacophony that echoed through the institution's corridors. Desperate patients' screams mingled with the wails of abandoned children, their cries an unrelenting reminder of the horrors concealed within these walls.
The door creaked open, and Anthony's gaze barely flickered in response – another orderly, another intrusion into his existence. A gasp sliced through the air, as a young woman appeared in front of him. She emanated an air of familiarity, a connection he struggled to grasp in his clouded mind. A soft pink dress adorned her frame, and her eyes – butterscotch brown – brimmed with compassion and shock at his condition.
She knelt, bringing herself to his level, her voice trembling with emotion. "Anthony," she whispered, her hand cupping his cheek, her touch grounding him. "Fratello... it's Molly, tua sorella gemella. Enzo and I are here to take you home."
Tears traced paths down her cheeks, carving a map of anguish and determination. Her gentle guidance helped him rise, his unsteady legs complying. She enfolded him in an embrace, and he sensed a warmth, a familiarity, that struggled to pierce through his foggy mind.
"Molly," he managed to murmur, a feeble acknowledgment of recognition, of a bond that refused to be extinguished. But there was another presence, a deeper voice that interjected.
"Anthony," it called sternly, and his gaze shifted to a man who filled the doorway. Dressed in a black suit and adorned with a fedora, this figure held the air of someone both imposing and protective. Dark eyes bore into him, a hint of sympathy and understanding veiled beneath a tough exterior. This was Enzo, the twenty-year-old man Molly had mentioned – his older brother.
Molly's grip on him tightened as she steered him toward Enzo. The doctor's protest, a last attempt to retain their grasp on Anthony's fate, was met with defiance. Enzo's voice cut through the tension, his words carrying a weight of authority. "Away from here," he declared, his determination unwavering.
The doctor cited Anthony's uncured condition, his supposed mental affliction. Enzo's response dripped with a chilling certainty. "He wasn't sent here to be cured," he retorted, his arms encircling Anthony, supporting him both physically and metaphorically. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, an unspoken pact formed in the exchange.
"He was sent here to rot," Enzo stated, his voice a chilling reminder of the malevolence that lurked in the shadows. But beneath the cold veneer, Anthony detected a thread of compassion. Enzo's actions, however reluctant, spoke volumes about the love he held for his brother, the lengths he would go to free him from this living nightmare. "He'll be coming with us..."