bamboo doesn't grow in dark spaces. [80K Words / Complete]

chapter five. 💚

At some point, Case made the conscious decision that the bed was taboo. He moved back to his corner under the stairs, repeating his whispered affirmations: I'm not bamboo – I'm steel.

I won't break.

I won't break.

There was no way for him to measure the passing time – no windows, no change in the dim lights – but he was there long enough for his backside to go completely numb. When he couldn't feel that part of his body anymore, it dawned on him that he couldn't feel his underwear either.

Dread washed over him, as if he were submerging into a tub of cold water. He was certain he'd figured out what Sir wanted from him – and he hadn't forgotten the fact Sir had undressed him while he was unconscious. It was possible that Sir had already taken advantage of him.

His body was too numb for him to feel if anything was different. Hell, would he feel different? There'd always been so much emphasis from victims of sexual assault – at least, the ones he saw on TV and in movies – that their bodies felt unexplainably different. That their bodies didn't feel like theirs anymore. Case didn't feel like that. Not yet, anyway.

But he had to be sure. He ran his hand down the side of his thigh, but couldn't feel through the thick material of the sweatpants. That horrible sick feeling was rising again. He swallowed, pushing it back down. He got up onto his feet.

The loss of blood flow to his backside felt like he'd been anesthetized. Or as if that part of his body didn't belong to him anymore.

Bracing himself, Case took a deep breath.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, and – Yes! Yes, there it was! A second elastic waistband, the top of his underwear. Case breathed in relief, the tension exhaling out of him as an unsteady giggle. It was all okay. He was okay. He pulled the top of the sweatpants away from his body, and saw –

Gray.

Not orange-and-green. Not the stupid, childish Space Jam trunks – cartoon basketballs and Bugs Bunny – he'd put on before leaving home. No.

Gray. Plain, dark gray briefs he'd never seen before. Fabric he'd never felt hugging his body before.

Case stayed that way, thumbs sandwiched between the two elastic waistbands, frozen as if he'd turned to stone. Up until now, his moments of panic had been white flashes of adrenaline overriding his senses. But now, it was as if his mind had vacated, leaving his body behind as a hollow statue.

Sir had violated him. God, fuck it, he might as well call it what it was: rape. Sir had drugged him, stripped him, and raped him.

You don't know that, the detached, logical voice told him.

"Yes, I do," Case replied to himself, shaky yet certain. "He did, he did it."

He didn't.

"He did. I know he did."

Then why aren't you in pain?

True – as he regained blood flow and sensation to his lower half, he noted the absence of pain. Hell, even the absence of discomfort.

Case remembered the first time he'd fingered a girl – Ellie Dixon, in middle school when they'd gotten drunk off of black cherry flavored Mike's Hard Lemonade at a party. They'd made out with purple tongues, fumbled in each other's pants for a few minutes – unsure, nervous, exhilarated – then bragged to an unwilling audience for the rest of the night.

And he remembered the first time he'd had sex – Hannah Waite, his only long-term girlfriend. Now ex after she'd cheated on him.

Both girls had complained afterward about feeling sore down there. Case didn't feel anything.