Two things: One, this chapter is rated R and has mature themes. I won't spoil what they are but if you're uncomfortable with suggestive sexual themes, you should skip this chapter. If you do skip this chapter, feel free to message me and I'll tell you what happens in a softer way. Two, if anyone has a problem with this chapter, please DON'T report it. Please come to me and I'll fix whatever you think is inappropriate. This story means a lot to me and if it got taken down, I'd be very sad. Thank you so much for reading, and I apologize in advance for any discomfort or disturbance that comes from reading this chapter. This is the most mature chapter I've ever written, and it doesn't happen very often. This is a rare occasion. Thanks.
~CutiePieShi
CHAPTER 15:
-----Kellin's POV----
When I got home, I immediately noticed something was off. I'd been gone longer than I anticipated, so it was about nine o'clock. The first thing that set me off was the fact that the front door was wide open. When I walked inside, I saw that the TV was off and Vic was nowhere in sight. I walked past the kitchen table, stepping on broken glass. The glass scared me and I jumped back. Vic was a neat freak, and if he broke the glass, he would've cleaned it up right then.
"Vic?" I called softly. I walked to the guest bedroom, then the bathroom, carefully checking each room to make sure he wasn't hiding, waiting to scare me. I really started to get scared when I found a kitchen knife in the middle of the hallway.
"Vic?! Where the hell are you?!" I yelled. I burst into our bedroom, and there he was, huddled in a corner. He was naked, crying, and his face, chest and arms were beaten pretty badly. I rushed to his side. The moment I touched his skin, he jerked and scrambled away from me.
"Vic... What happened?" I said quietly.
"Don't fucking touch me... Don't touch me. Don't touch me," he repeated over and over.
"Vic, you need to calm down, and tell me what the hell happened."
"Some.... some guy came in the house and... he..." He looked down at his hands, hesitating. "And he raped me..."
My jaw dropped to my toes and my mind went absolutely blank. I couldn't think at all.
"Vic..." I crawled next to him and he shrunk away from me. "Vic, it's okay... I won't hurt you. You know that right?"
He looked me in eyes, and in all sincerity, he said, "I don't know what I believe anymore. Just don't touch me. Ever."
It hurt that he was blaming what happened on me, so I went out to the living room and called the police. It was hard explaining what had happened, considering I had to tell the woman how he was underage and all that jazz. A couple officers arrived a few minutes later with an ambulance. The ambulance took Vic to the hospital to do... whatever it is they do.
"Mr. Quinn? Would it be okay if we asked you a few questions?" The officer was a woman. She was all business, but still nice and gentle.
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Just tell me what happened, sir."
"I was, um, visiting my mother's grave in San Diego, and I told Vic I was going to be gone until seven, but I ended up staying longer than I thought. It's hard for me to leave once I get there, I guess. Anyway, I got home and the door was wide open. I walked in and couldn't find Vic, then I saw the broken glass. I found him huddled in the corner by our bed, naked and crying. I tried to calm him down but he kept moving away and telling me not to touch him... That's when I called you guys."
"You said you two shared a bed. Are you aware that's illegal?"
"No, we didn't... have sex... We just slept. I went through this a while ago when Vic got hit by a car and I was investigated. They gave the okay for me to keep taking care of him as long as we didn't have sexual relations."
She nodded and wrote my speech down on a pocket sized note pad. She thanked me for my statement and they left. I jumped in my car and went to the hospital. Leda wasn't there so I just went to the front desk. They told me Vic was in room 122, so that's where I went.
When I entered Vic's room, there was a woman sitting with him. She had a suit on and looked very professional. When she saw me, she got up and extended her hand over the bed for me to shake.
"Hello, Mr. Quinn. My name is Cassiday Lukas. I'm the resident therapist here. Anyone that comes in with after an event that could be psychologically damaging, I get called in to talk to them."
I shook her hand and smiled weakly. "Vic, are you okay?"
"Mr. Quinn," Dr. Lukas said, directing the my back to her, "I'm going to ask you something that you may be reluctant to answer, but I can assure you, anything and everything Vic and you say to me is strictly confidential. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't tell the police without losing my license and my practice. Unless it endangers someone's life, it is between us three. Now, are you and Vic sexually active?"
I dropped my head, not really wanting to talk to this woman about my sex life. "Yes, we are," I admitted. I heard her pen scribbled on a legal pad.
"How many times do you have sex a week, would you say?"
I rolled my eyes, thinking, 'I hated talking about sex enough with my mother, now I have to talk about having illegal sex with my boyfriend with some doctor I just met.'
"I don't know... Maybe five or six. Not everyday, though... just sometimes more than once a day."
"Have you been having it more and more lately?"
I thought for a minute. "I suppose. We just got back from a camping trip where we did it at least twice a day for six days."
More scribbling on the legal pad. "Okay, now excuse me if I'm stepping over boundaries, but I need to know, are you usually... on top, I guess you'd say?"
I looked up at her, completely horrified she was asking such personal questions. She seemed unfazed, as if this was an everyday thing to ask people whether they were the fucker or the one getting fucked.
"I... I, um... Yes... I've always been on top."
She nodded. "You see, had it been the other way around, with Vic being on top, I don't think this incident would've had such a dramatic effect on his mind. However, from what he's told me, which isn't much, I believe Vic has replaced his rapist with you in his head, because you're the only sexual partner he's ever had. This is the reason he refuses to touch you, because he thinks you'll hurt him again."
"Are... are you saying that I'll never be able to touch him again...?"
She adjusted her glasses and looked down at Vic. He was awake, but he had a very blank stare in his eyes. He was scooted as far away from me as possible. "No, I think it'll be a while before he'll be okay again, if he ever goes back to normal." She turned and collected her things. "I'll leave you two alone. I'll be back tomorrow to do a follow-up on Vic's condition." With that, she walked out.
I sat down and stared at Vic. "Vic? Please talk me... please?"
He looked at me. "I have nothing to say to you, except don't touch me." He sounded incredibly angry.
"Vic, you have to understand, I didn't do anything. I was out of the house when... what happened happened. I didn't do what you think I did."
He sat up quickly in his bed, rocking it a little. "Don't you fucking lie to me! I know what you did! It's your fucking fault!" He screamed at me, rage flaming in his eyes. "Get the fuck out! Get out! I won't let you hurt me again!"
I stood up, my fury boiling over. Not at him, but whoever did this to him. "Where the fuck are you gonna go, Vic?! You fucking live with me! Where are you going to go if you hate me?!"
His body language softened a little. "I... I don't know... Please just leave. I need to be alone." He rolled over and laid back down. He started shaking, and I knew he was crying.
I started towards the door. When my hand was resting on the doorknob, I looked back at his small body. "I love you, Vic, and I don't want to lose you. Don't let this destroy everything we have." I opened the door and left.
Once in the hallway, my rage boiled over again and I punched the wall. It felt good to do something physical to get out my feelings, so I did it again and again, until my knuckles bled and ached. I pressed my back to the wall and slid to the floor, crying and letting my blood drip onto the tile.
When I had calmed down enough to drive home, I did so. Once home, I cleaned up the broken glass, tore the sheets off my bed and washed them in the hottest water I could.
When I had nothing else to do, I laid on the couch. I clasped my hands together and bowed my head. "Mom, I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you, and now, because of me, Vic is hurt too. It seems like anyone who I start to love gets hurt and it's my fault. I... I'm sorry... I'm sorry I'm alone."
I slept on the couch that night, refusing to sleep in the bed that someone hurt Vic in. He was slowly slipping through my fingers, and I knew it. Maybe I could never hold him in the first place, and I tried because I needed him. I did need him, even if he didn't need me.
This situation reminded me of a song I heard once. It went:
I have a million different kinds of fun, when I'm asleep and in a dream that I'm your only one. Can we create something beautiful and destroy it? Nobody knows I dream about it, this is my imagination.
Vic and I had something beautiful, and now it was slowly crumbling before my eyes.