Scar Deep (16/20)
Title: Scar Deep
Author: Emo_Bangs
Rating: R for language and sexual situations (short, non-explicit rape)
Summary: Will David be able to heal this time?
Warnings/Notes: Short, mostly non-explicit rape written scene. Self-harm. Surprisingly I don't have much to say. New chapter for the new year. I greatly appreciate comments, a lot! <333 Enjoy!
David knew the feeling; he recognized it all too well. That familiar feeling of just losing everything: the ability to sense anything, the vague knowledge that it wouldn’t last much long, that it couldn’t and the blissful disorientation that was nothing but a beautiful distraction from reality.
This time was different though. There’d been no questions last time, absolutely nothing floating around in his mind but the sweet knowledge that it’d finally all be over. But when he’d done it before, it’d been intentional. He knew that he was going to do it and thus had the time to prepare, get everything sorted out and he did, not that he‘d had a huge list. He wrote the note that his family would eventually find, read it over multiple times and then finally, being completely at peace with it, went to carry out the task.
Nothing was the same this time. He wasn’t ready, he was panicky and worried rather than relaxed and calm, and he didn’t want to go, not yet.
“David?”
No. He refused to hear the voice, trying to convince himself it was all in his mind. He didn’t want anyone to see him, find him, save him. It’d be exactly like the last time and there was no way he was going to put himself through that again: the constant questions, everyone trying to figure out his problem, never getting to be alone, always having someone there. He’d rather just die than relive that year of his life.
But still the voice persisted and he knew it wasn’t in his head. A few more panicked words and he could recognize it easily. Upon knowing its identity, he couldn’t decide whether it was a good or bad thing. Slowly the soothing, accented voice was bringing him back from the edge, carrying him back into reality.
There was almost painful to hear the blatant worry in his voice. “David, what happened?”
David could almost laugh at the question. It, like everything else, was horribly obviously. He knew that Michael knew the exact answer to that question.
“Are you okay?” he asked, more firmly.
He again said nothing but just inwardly laughed at the humor of the question. He felt his arm being torn away from its secure position on his body. He couldn’t even let out a whimper of protest. The bloodied towel was yanked away from his wrist and he felt the warmth pool to the surface again.
Michael left his side for a second and his heart quickened in panic. But he was back at his side in seconds, holding a new, clean towel to his wrist.
“David,” Michael began, gently, placing his other hand on David’s other arm. “I have to take you to the hospital.” he tried to lift him up but David just shook his head in refusal. “C’mon! We have to go!”
“No!” he groaned, frantically and continuously shaking his head. “I’m not going!”
“You have to!” Michael insisted desperately. “You’re bleeding really bad and if I don’t take you…”
“I’m not going!” he almost shouted, head pounding at every noise around him. Even the smallest the sound created the greatest pain. “They have enough to worry about! Adam…”
“David, that doesn’t matter,” the Australian persisted, “All that matters is that we get you to the hospital, now!”
Even as Michael helped him up, carefully walking him out to his car, David still protested. He shook his head, paying no attention to his nonsense. He just tried to worry about focusing on the road instead of panicking about how fucking slow the car in front of him was going. It took all his will power not to honk the SUV off the road.
He'd already called Carly and Andy; both of them were on their way. The doctor had come out five minutes later telling him that they couldn't get a hold of David's mom. Michael remembered that she was here in the hospital, visiting her David's older half brother. He told the doctor he'd handle it.
He went up to the front desk and asked where Adam Cook's room was. Luckily he told him no questions asked and he ran upstairs as fast as he could, all the while debating whether it was really his place to tell. He knew the woman needed to know and she did deserve to know. He just keep questioning how David would react and when it all came down to it, that was all that really mattered.
But he knew he had to tell her, whether she was his biggest fan or not. He opened the designated door and hesitantly walked in. “Mrs. Cook?”
The woman, who was sitting beside her son's hospital bed, turned around and was obviously surprised to see him standing there. “What are you doing here?”
“It's David...”
David lied on the hospital bed, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling. The doctors had kicked Michael out when they were setting him up. He'd wanted to protest wildly, demand that they let him stay but he just didn't have the strength. He barely had enough strength to turn over on his back or pull the covers over his bandaged wrists so he didn't have to look at them anymore, so they couldn't be a constant reminder.
“David!” a shrill, worried voice called and he didn't even have to look over to know who it belonged to. He heard her footsteps getting closer and he felt a faint sense of warmth as she grabbed his hand. “Not again David,” she cried. “How could you do this again? I thought everything was solved. I thought you were okay.”
David scoffed bitterly, “What do you know?”
There was a soft knock at the door and they both turned to see Carly and Michael standing in the doorway.
“I'll be back later,” she whispered, leaving the room as his friends came in, walking towards his face. He averted his eyes in shame, the last thing he wanted to do, though it'd be the first thing he was forced to do, was talk about it.
Soft footsteps approached. Carly. He knew it wasn't Michael. That sweet, comforting scent of the Australian wasn't there. He could feel it, sense it; Michael wasn't close and David wasn't sure if he could handle that for much longer.
A hand and gentle warmth spread over his forehead and he felt his hair being pushed back. He could only feel the shallow touch of the warmth; it didn't go deep enough to comfort him.
“David,” the girl whispered. He could tell that she was crying; he'd become accustomed to the sound, he could easily tell when anyone was crying. “Honey...this has to stop.”
David said nothing and remained still. He couldn't feel anything but the guilt that radiated down on him with each passing person to visit him. It just sank underneath his skin, taking residence in his already troubled mind.
“This isn't healthy,” she sobbed helplessly. “You can't keep doing this. We all love you David. Every last one of us. We want to help you. But you have to let us.”
He couldn't stop it, couldn't help it, his mind instantly replied that no one could do anything and this would always happen with absolutely no chance of getting any better. That's just always the way it was and always the way it would be.
“Please David, believe me. Things can and will get better. You just have to let them,” she told him. “I have to go but I'll be back to visit you after work okay?” she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, saying goodbye to both him and Michael before leaving.
It was now just him and Michael. The atmosphere changed drastically; suddenly all the uncomfortable sorrow and guilt was gone and he was left with comforting understanding, just Michael.
“Hey,” was the first thing to break the surprisingly comfortable silence.
“Hi,” he replied, voice hoarse and quiet. He planted his hands on the bed and braced himself on them, scooting himself up on the bed to sit back against the pillows. He fell against them with an exhausted grunt.
Michael approached the bed, placing a wrapped package on his lap. “I brought you this. I forgot it on your birthday so it's kinda late. Sorry.”
David attempted to smile, surprised that his lips tweaked up in a half smile. He brought his hands up to clutch the package, finding his wrists to sore to have any strength to open it. He could see the sadness pass through Michael's eyes as he looked up at him pleadingly.
“Guess I really didn't need to wrap it,” he said awkwardly, trying to laugh it all off as he leaned forward to pull at the wrapping paper. He tore it all off and through it in the thrash next to the bed and placed the book back in his lap.
He held it up slightly inspecting it, tracing his fingers over the intricate, fancy lettering over the front of the nice notebook.
“It's a lyric book,” he explained, opening it up for his friend. “For each page of lined paper, it has music sheets for your guitar notes and stuff.”
“It's amazing,” he whispered, “Thank you.” he looked down at the sheets on his hospital bed before speaking up very quietly. “I'm sorry you had to deal with me today.”
Michael shook his head. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm just glad I came when I did. You dropped your phone in my car,” he said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving said item. “David...what happened that you...wanted to...?”
“David!” a new voice exclaimed, rushing into the room. Michael spun around to see Andy rushing into the room and up to the bed, carefully hugging his friend. “What the hell happened?” he exclaimed worriedly and the atmosphere of the room changed instantly, sobering up with sorrow. He casually glanced down to see David's bandaged wrists and grim understanding filled his eyes. “Not again,” he sighed dejectedly. He turned to Michael, anger clearly written on his face. “How did you not know about this? You're with him practically everyday!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael questioned defensively, moving around to join Andy on the other side of the bed, staring him down.
“You're around him all the time, practically smothering him and you didn't know about this?” Andy shouted, fuming.
“Well why didn't you know about it then best friend?” the Australian yelled back.
David sat up in bed, lips curving down into a frown. “Guys, stop it,” he said, apparently too quiet to be heard over the other's arguing.
“Cause he's always fucking with you!” Andy argued. “I never get the chance to worry about him!”
“Don't blame your negligence on me!” Michael growled, pointing an accusing finger at the other teen.
“I am so sick,” David snarled, infuriated, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He gripped the small tube that was attached to a needle that was held under his vein by a single piece of tape. With a single, hard tug, he yanked the IV from his arm, throwing it down and getting off his bed to face his two friends. “Sick of you two standing there bitching! Both of you...just shut the fuck up!”
Both Andy and Michael stood there, horrified by David's explosion. Neither of them knew what to say and just remained there, mouths open in blatant shock.
“David, just lie back down,” Andy told him, voice quiet and gently.
David shook his head stubbornly, swaying slightly as he stepped towards his friends, arm raised, pointing at them, “No!” he exclaimed, his voice fading to a breathless pant. “I won't sit here...and listen to you two...and your shit!”
A few seconds later a young petite brunette nurse came running into the room, questioning the situation. “What's going on in here? You two,” she gestured the Australian and the musician, “get out.”
Andy nodded in understanding and left the room without a question or even another word. Michael, however, wasn't so quick to obey. He stopped at the doorway and turned back to look at David, who was now being helped back into bed by the nurse. His common sense told him that he really should go, not only because he was told to but because he was causing David distress and that was the last thing Michael wanted to do. But the yearning in his heart demanded that he stay.
Reluctantly, he turned back to say, “I'll come back and see you later,” and then finally left the room, an aching void in his heart.
David collapsed onto the bed, fraught with exhaustion. He laid there, motionlessly, waiting until he was hooked back up, until the nurse was gone so he could finally be alone again, just the way he liked it.
It honestly hadn't been more than a minute before people were flying back into the room, calling out frantically. It was his mom, coming in first, as annoyingly worried as before. Coming into the room, less frantic and calmer than the other visitor, much to David's horror was Ron, as disgustingly smug as always.
His body was frozen; he was paralyzed by the sudden, yet familiar fear that was now overcoming him. He knew he shouldn't be so weak, that he shouldn't let the man have that affect on him. He just couldn't help it. It was just the way things had become.
“No!” David screamed impulsively, thrashing around on the bed , “Get out!” The occupants of the room were completely shocked at his outburst. “Get the fuck out you bastard!” They all stared with horror in their eyes at his words.
“I'm gonna have to ask both of you to leave,” the nurse said as she watched his heart rate and blood pressure rapidly increase, almost dangerously. His mom looked absolutely appalled at the request. “Now!”
His mom and step-dad were ushered out of the room, allowing them to decrease and ensuring his sanity, even if it was only for a moment.
It wasn't until the nurse left, until he knew he was alone that the memories came rushing back to him. “No,” he whimpered, fingers digging into the side of his head as if that would somehow make them all go away. “Stop it. Please.”
There was nothing he could do about it. The drugs he was on, the ones he constantly used to suppress the memory, they were all at home. Every means of ignorance, his only chance to preserve his sanity was at home, gone, beyond his reach.
He eyed the wrapped bandages on his wrists, knowing just how tender and sore the wounds would be. He knew how blissfully painful even a simple pressured press would be. With this knowledge in mind, he began unwrapping the bandages.
The young, attractive nurse assigned to watch over David, made her way into the waiting room, seeking out the boy's mother. She found her by the fish tank, comforted by the middle aged man who'd triggered one of David's breakdowns. She cleared her throat as she approached them, gaining their attention. The woman looked up, tears in her eyes.
“Mrs. Cook, David's still doing just fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary. But we're still worried about him though.”
The nurse paused just long enough for the woman to frantically question, “Why are you worried?”
“He's been scratching at his stitches and he actually managed to pull them loose and the wounds began bleeding again so we had to restitch them. Mrs. Cook...no one would even think about doing what your son did. It causes excruciating pain, especially on the wrists. I strongly suggest he talk regularly to a therapist. He's got a hospital appointed session with the hospital therapist in an hour. But as long as everything stays the same, he can go home tomorrow morning.”
Everything was a huge blur, a mess of mixed memories. Everything joined together into one stream of movies in his head, replaying and rewinding, taunting, torturing him. Slowly, he made his way upstairs to his room, just having got back from the hospital.
He found them sitting on his desk, surrounded by the clutter of carelessness. He rushed over to desperately grab the bottle, shaking it and finding that it was empty. He rolled it over to look at the labeling, seeing the prescription had expired months ago.
Frustrated, he threw the bottle against the wall, watching as it fell to the ground. He blindly walked over to the bed, falling onto it as he burst out in tears. Before too long, exhaustion got the best of him and he fell asleep, just like that.
All he could see was Michael above him, his face gentle and loving. It was the best and worst he'd ever felt before. He was so sweet and caring, making sure everything was okay, that he wasn't crossing any lines. But on the other hand, the feeling of vulnerability was almost overwhelming. He was so open, more so than he ever had been in his life and he was forced to trust Michael, believe that he wouldn't do anything to take advantage of him or the situation.
“Oh god David. You're so gorgeous,” Michael gasped, reaching out to run a hand down the other's bare side, only to stop himself, not wanting to make David feel uncomfortable in any way.
David blushed and grabbed Michael's wrist, pulling his arm forward to place his hand on his side. Michael smiled, leaning down to brush his lips against David's. “You ready?” he asked, breathlessly.
David reached up to comb his fingers through the other's hair as he nodded. He brought his hands down to rest on Michael's shoulders as he pressed inside him. He gasped, biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain. He felt a soft, understanding touch on his thigh. He looked into Michael's eyes, seeing the reassurance there.
Once the initial pain subsided, Michael began moving inside him and subtle pleasure started washing over him. It was absolutely perfect, the feeling. The feeling of bliss, unity, trust. He knew this is what it truly should feel like.
David threw his head back, crying out softly, grasping Michael's bare, upper arm. He found something off about it, the fact that he could tell with his eyes shut aside. He opened in eyes, intent on questioning it. His whole body was paralyzed in horror when he was that it was no longer Michael above him, inside him.
“Stop it! Get off of me!” he screamed, pushing roughly at the man's shoulders in hopes of forcing him away.
The older man above him smirked, “I can do it way better than that boy.”
“No!” he jolted up in bed, chest heaving, body broken out in a cold sweat. He combed his hands through his dampened hair, gripping it tightly as he broke down into sobs. He wished desperately that it wasn't happening, because now, he had no way to stop it.