(no subject)
Title: No Visible Bruises
Author: Liz [me]
Rating: R [NC-17]
Pairings: Billie/Fink
Disclaimer: Don't own; Don't sue.
Notes: Comments and Reviews loved.♥ Prologue.
Warnings: Rape and Drugs; in later chapters.
No Visible Bruises
Prologue.
* * *
“I’m sorry Mr. Armstrong, but there’s nothing we can do for you.”
Billie’s watching a moth trying to escape through a closed window, and for some reason he smiles. The moth is more than likely seeking the sun, but there is something in his way, something barricading him from moving on.
Billie tries hard not to cry.
“I was raped.” He says, as if it were something he’d said everyday since he was born. He looks away from the Moth, who keeps ramming into the window, and instead straight ahead at the psychiatrist the people at the police station sent him to.
“According to the tests run on you, Mr. Armstrong,” Billie flinches as the doctor spits out his last name, like it’s a burden to say. “There was no sign of a struggle, besides the glass shards in your wrists. There was no semen, and there was no sign that you’d ever been touched there. There are no visible bruises, and according to this screen; you had drugs in your system. . .”
Billie tries to make his eyes angry, but he’s not sure if he looks pathetic or not; because he knows there are tears about to spill.
“I know what happened to me. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t the drugs. I know it happened. I could . . . I could feel his teeth on my neck. I remembered how much it hurt when I tore. I remember bleeding, I remember touching my blood. I was raped.” The seventeen year old mutters, his whole body shaking by now.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Armstrong, but this is typical drug seeking behavior. I can only assume that the glass shards in your wrist were an attempt to make your story more believable, but it didn’t help . . . because you were never raped.”
“How do you know!? You weren’t there! You didn’t SEE him.” He screams, knocking half the things off the shrink’s desk. He storms over to the moth, which is still fluttering against the window, and he smashes it against the dirty glass.
Billie sobs as he pulls his hand away, to reveal the window smeared with blood, along with his hands. He glares in the direction of the doctor, whose mouth is hanging wide open.
“Don’t you see? I’m like that moth. I want to get away from him, so badly. But I can’t, and I never will. There’s this wall blocking me, and it’s too big to fly around, too tall to climb, and too far into the earth to dig under. I’m trapped. I’m trapped in hell, with the devil him-fucking-self, and everyone else is on the other side. . .”
He rushes to the door, and flings the door open. He stands in the doorway, and looks at the doctor, arms and legs shaking. “Have you ever seen the devil, Doctor?” He whispers.
“No. . .” the doctor whispers, rising from his chair.
“I have. . .” Billie whispers, turning away. “He looks just like me.”
And then he’s gone, leaving behind the doctor, who swore he saw another person leave with the boy.
Author: Liz [me]
Rating: R [NC-17]
Pairings: Billie/Fink
Disclaimer: Don't own; Don't sue.
Notes: Comments and Reviews loved.♥ Prologue.
Warnings: Rape and Drugs; in later chapters.
No Visible Bruises
Prologue.
* * *
“I’m sorry Mr. Armstrong, but there’s nothing we can do for you.”
Billie’s watching a moth trying to escape through a closed window, and for some reason he smiles. The moth is more than likely seeking the sun, but there is something in his way, something barricading him from moving on.
Billie tries hard not to cry.
“I was raped.” He says, as if it were something he’d said everyday since he was born. He looks away from the Moth, who keeps ramming into the window, and instead straight ahead at the psychiatrist the people at the police station sent him to.
“According to the tests run on you, Mr. Armstrong,” Billie flinches as the doctor spits out his last name, like it’s a burden to say. “There was no sign of a struggle, besides the glass shards in your wrists. There was no semen, and there was no sign that you’d ever been touched there. There are no visible bruises, and according to this screen; you had drugs in your system. . .”
Billie tries to make his eyes angry, but he’s not sure if he looks pathetic or not; because he knows there are tears about to spill.
“I know what happened to me. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t the drugs. I know it happened. I could . . . I could feel his teeth on my neck. I remembered how much it hurt when I tore. I remember bleeding, I remember touching my blood. I was raped.” The seventeen year old mutters, his whole body shaking by now.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Armstrong, but this is typical drug seeking behavior. I can only assume that the glass shards in your wrist were an attempt to make your story more believable, but it didn’t help . . . because you were never raped.”
“How do you know!? You weren’t there! You didn’t SEE him.” He screams, knocking half the things off the shrink’s desk. He storms over to the moth, which is still fluttering against the window, and he smashes it against the dirty glass.
Billie sobs as he pulls his hand away, to reveal the window smeared with blood, along with his hands. He glares in the direction of the doctor, whose mouth is hanging wide open.
“Don’t you see? I’m like that moth. I want to get away from him, so badly. But I can’t, and I never will. There’s this wall blocking me, and it’s too big to fly around, too tall to climb, and too far into the earth to dig under. I’m trapped. I’m trapped in hell, with the devil him-fucking-self, and everyone else is on the other side. . .”
He rushes to the door, and flings the door open. He stands in the doorway, and looks at the doctor, arms and legs shaking. “Have you ever seen the devil, Doctor?” He whispers.
“No. . .” the doctor whispers, rising from his chair.
“I have. . .” Billie whispers, turning away. “He looks just like me.”
And then he’s gone, leaving behind the doctor, who swore he saw another person leave with the boy.