WARNING: mentions of rape, abuse, and prostitution
Ford POV
We wanted to ask questions but stopped ourselves from doing so, allowing the silence to slowly consume our thoughts like acid eating away at skin, trusting that Y/N would eventually tell us what was wrong and why she was hurt, but for some reason, a part of me didn't want to know what was going on. Part of me just wanted to be ignorant and unknowing. I knew that whatever had happened to her was bad, but what I didn't know was the extent of the monstrous things that made her seem so vulnerable and weak, the things that forced her to grow up faster than the rest of us. I watched her as she stared out into empty space, her eyes buzzing with unlimited thoughts that were sadly inevitable to her trauma filled mind, her foot anxiously tapping the floor like she was nervous that something was going to happen. Every time a car passed by our building, she would flinch before easing up again, the hums of the sign to our shop making the room a little less tense.
She sighed, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds before beginning to violently sob, her chin twitching frantically as she broke before us, the face that used to light up a room when she walked in drowning in a lake of sorrow and torture, unable to escape the confines of her thoughts like she wished to do. All we could do to ease the pain was to hold her in our arms and give her the love that she deserved but probably didn't have. Watching her cry brought tears to our eyes, and soon we joined in on the sadness, holding each other tighter like we were all we had left, never wanting to let go of each other so we weren't abandoned like many times before.
"Please, please don't cry guys," she whispered, shattering the invisible silence. "I don't want to be the reason you are sad, so please don't cry."
She began sobbing harder, my heart getting smashed with a sledgehammer and breaking me in two, internally fighting a war against myself as I attempted to stop the waterworks. Stan sniffled and cleared his throat, a question burning deeply in his eyes, but he knew that he had to keep it in. We needed to wait to ask questions until she was ready to talk, and we were willing to wait as long as it took.
I began playing with her hair unintentionally, needing to do something to get her more calm, her tears beginning to dwindle slowly as time passed. After a while, there were no tears left to indicate she was sad, only the trails that they left as a reminder that they once exist, but were now no more. She sighed, playing with her hands nervously before speaking, her words during through the still air that surrounded us.
"My life is not as good as it may seem," she said, biting her lip to keep herself together, forcing out the words like they were poison. " My mother was a prostitute, and the reason we moved here was so that she could get away from all of that because she promised me that she would change herself and be a better person, but instead she broke it and went back to doing what she knew. The reason I'm here tonight is because her customer tried to get into my room to do... things, but I couldn't let it happen again. "
We sat beside her dumbfounded, unable to find the words to express our deepest apologies for the events of her past life. But then again, it's not like anything would've changed if we did. They're just words, and what she experienced were actions. Actions that would haunt her forever.
"A... again?" Stan asked, his eyes filled with tears waiting to be spilled.
I was never able to figure out why he asked. Maybe he was clarifying. Maybe he just wanted to know the severity of her pain. Honestly, I think he was hoping he misheard, that she had only fallen victim to such monsters a single time. Not that that's better. It's still fucking traumatizing whether it's one or ten or a hundred times.
But I get it. I really do. I understand. I understand having the hope that maybe it was only one time, that there weren't multiple sick bastards forcing a child to attend to their selfish animalistic needs. That her mother didn't just let multiple men take advantage of her daughter for something as materialistic as money.
You never want to accept that there are genuinely evil people out there, but the truth of the matter is there are, and some people have to learn that the hard way... the very hard way.
Y/N sighed. "Yeah," she shrugged, staring at the wall with a blank expression, suppressing whatever emotions were trying to escape. "It's... it's happened multiple times," she cleared her throat, a couple of tears dripping down her face, "but what can you do about it huh? I mean, most of them had at least 80 pounds on me, so there wasn't really stopping them."
I could feel my heart drop, suddenly sick to my stomach as I listened to her confession. The part that sickened me the most wasn't the fact that it happened, or what she said, it was how casually spoke about it. The fact that she shrugged and was able to talk about it happening with such a straight face without breaking down was terrifying. Because if she was able to just state it like it wasn't a big deal, how many times did it have to happen to her before it no longer was? How many times did they have to hurt her before it became normal?
Y/N POV
I could tell I was talking, but I didn't comprehend anything I said until after it was already out, unable to take any of it back. Maybe it was because of the throbbing in my skull from jumping out of my second story window, maybe it was because I was so high on adrenaline that I couldn't stop myself from saying whatever was on my mind.
Though, part of me knows that's not why. Part of me has been waiting for years to get the chance to free myself from my living hell, constantly feeling the hands of my abusers crawling across my skin as I lay awake at night, wondering if there was someone, anyone who would save me. The part of me that scrubbed my body for hours until I started to bleed, unable to wipe away their phantom grasp as it took advantage of me once again. And that part of me want going to let it go on for any longer.
"Can't we call the police?" Stanley stood up, pacing the length of the room. "I mean, they will be able to do something, right?"
"Y-yeah, you can tell them what happened and you will be able to get help and-" Stanford began, a glint of hope in his eyes.
I dismissed his idea with a quick no, watching the flickering light leave his eyes. "They won't take us seriously."
"Well why not?" Stanley huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "What would possibly make them think we would make such a thing up?"
"We're kids," she sighed, "and because we're kids, our opinion won't matter as much as an adult's, meaning that as soon as my mom says it's not true-"
"You'll be right back where you don't want to be," Stanford rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, a defeated look crossing his face.
"So... what are we going to do?" Stan asked.
The twins looked over to me, waiting for a reply. For a few seconds I stayed silent, pondering the question that had been placed before me.
I took in a deep breath.
"There really isn't anything we can do," I answered, laying down on the bottom bunk bed and closing my eyes for a second before sitting back up and facing the reality before me.
There was a pause, the silence so loud it consumed the whole room. Not even the subtle humming of the lit sign outside their window was able to rip my thoughts away from the impossibility of this situation. No matter what I did, what we did, I would end up right back where I was, locked up in a cage like a bird that longingly awaits for the day it will be able to spread its wings once again. And they knew it too.
Before they could say anything, footsteps entered into the hallway and approached the door. Their eyes filled with panic, but there was no time to do anything as she opened the door.
"What are you two doing up so late making so much noise-" their mother yawned as she stepped into the room, her eyes widening as they landed on me.
Ford jumped up. "Wait, we can explain!" he yelled, his voice filled with distress.
"What's all that ruckus?" a strong male voice boomed from behind their mother, who still stood stiff, her eyes never leaving me.
"Boys, what is the meaning of this?" she asked, confusion and concern swirling in her eyes.
At this point, Stanley spoke up, tripping over his words.
"W-well, the thing is... I mean it's... if you just give us a chance-" before he could finish, his father walked in behind his mother, his face covered in a permanent scowl.
At this point no one spoke, the tension thicker than the smoke that came off of a kerosene fire. The twins swallowed, glancing from me to their parents. Stanford bowed his head and played with his hands, unable to match the intense and burning gaze of his father. Stanley however did no such thing.
He stood up tall and proud and opened his mouth to say something, but his father held up his hand, Stanley snapping his mouth shut in response.
"Don't," their father growled. "I don't want to hear some bullshit excuse about why there's some girl in your room."
"It's not bullshit!" Stanford snapped, taking a few steps forward as he earned a shocked look from everyone in the room. "And she's not just some girl," he looked back at me, "she's our best friend, and she needs help."
Stanford breathed heavily as he stared down his father, who was unmoved by his son's sharp and forceful words.
Looking at the Stanford from just a few minutes before who cowered in the presence of his father and man who stood before me now made me realize he wasn't just the goody-two-shoes-cookie-cutter-does-as-he-says kid. While he may put off the golden child persona, he was actually... a rebel, who was willing to fight back for those he knows are in trouble. He... he was a fighter.
His father's face remained still, unable to see what was going on behind his soulless eyes.
"Do you take me for some kind of idiot?" he finally spoke through gritted teeth, moving their mother out of the way and moving to close the space between his once obedient son.
"Wha-what do you mean?" Ford stuttered, his shoulders falling.
"Honey, you need to calm down-" their mother said, trying to touch the father's shoulder.
In an instant, their father whipped around and backhanded their mother across the face so hard she lost her balance and fell into the doorframe.
Stan covered his mouth as his eyes widened filled to the brim with tears that threatened to fall. Ford took a step back and grabbed my hand, trails of tears glistening in the faint light of the hallway that peeked through the doorway. I froze, my entire body clenching as I gasped, tightening the grip on Stanford's hand.
I could feel the stinging memory of my own mother's hand meeting my face as I watched their mother touch the sensitive red skin with a hiss.
"Don't ever tell me what to do!" he snarled as he spoke down the mother, his voice deep and quiet, the kind of quiet that sent chills dancing across your skin.
I leaned over slightly and whispered in Ford's ear. "What are we going to do?"
He gave me a sidelong glance, bringing his eyes back to the open hallway. He took a deep breath and squeezed my hand.
"Run."
I turned my head.
"What?"
He looked back at Stan and motioned his head forward.
"I said... RUN!"
In that instant, Stan ran past us, lowering his shoulder and ramming into his father at full speed. Their father stumbled and fell into their mother, falling to the ground with a loud thud that shook the place. With that moment of opportunity, Stan and Ford and I darted down the hallway and down the stairs until we got to the front door, only taking a second before sprinting into the open and endless street.
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and for the second time that night, I was running for my life. The only difference was that this time, I had two people who I knew would protect me. One who was farther ahead, never making an effort to look back, and the other whose hand was still in mine as we ran into the night with reckless abandon, still running off of adrenaline and pure unadulterated fear.
At that moment, I knew that we were the only three people in the world who could depend on each other, and that if we were going to make it out of this, it was going to be with each other. And at this point, we all knew it was all out nothing.
A/N: hey my dudes, it's me!!! I bet you guys didn't expect to see me!! I'm so sorry for taking so long to write again, I know it's been like one or two years since this story has been updated, but I'm going to try and start updating it weekly. Also, I'm sorry if this chapter is literal dogshit, I wrote the entire thing on my phone and you all know how much of a bitch autocorrect is, also I haven't written all summer so I'm off my game.
On another note, I would just like to say if anyone has been through any of the events mentioned in this chapter in real life (I.e. rape, sexual assault/abuse, etc.) I'm so sorry, and if anything I wrote came off as insensitive, please dm me and I will edit the story immediately. I understand that this is a very sensitive subject and I don't want to hurt anyone in any way possible. Again, if any of this has happened to you, talk to someone you trust and try to get help as soon as possible. I know it can be hard, but there are people who will help you, and I just want to make sure all of you are safe.
Alright, well, that's all I have to say. Stay safe my darlings, and hopefully, I will see you guys soon. At this point, I bid you farewell. Bye!!!!