TW: MEMORIES OF SEXUAL, PHYSICAL, AND MENTAL ABUSE.
Dappled orange hues flashed behind the lids of my closed eyes occasionally as I rested in the passenger seat of Chrollo's sleek black car. The darkness outside was obscured by the few thinning city lights sprinkled here and there. We were on the outskirts of the city, taking an exit onto some major highway I wasn't familiar with. Then again, I wasn't familiar with anything at all in the city when we'd been passing through it.
I hadn't realized that we'd need to get through the entirety of York New to get wherever Chrollo was taking me, but it was now past midnight and we still had another hour before we would arrive. I was utterly exhausted, physically unable to even keep my eyes open, but my mind felt too awake to shut off long enough for me to be able to sleep. Our walk up that cliffside wasn't exactly rough in and off itself, and I'd been forced to go much longer periods of time without food before, but the combination of that and the sheer amount of time it took to walk from those canyons to a bus station required endurance I didn't even know I possessed.
We'd made it to the bus station around three in the afternoon, and it was about an hour wait until the next bus to York New City. In the meantime, Chrollo bought me new clothes and a pair of shoes from a gift shop, as well as some food. I'd felt bad, but Chrollo had assured me that money was never an issue for him and that if I needed anything, I should always ask him. Of course, I didn't argue with him; I was very grateful.
I'd thrown away my old clothes and shoes in a large dumpster outside the station after I'd changed into the casual travel outfit he'd bought. They were dirty and worn, anyway.
The bus ride had been long and uncomfortable. I decided I didn't like bus seats at all after that. It was around six in the evening when we'd finally arrived at a station in the city, and even though it'd felt like the journey was finally coming to an end, everything still took forever. I suppose I hadn't realized or even known or expected how packed everything would be. Chrollo mentioned something about evening times being a "rush hour" because everyone was getting home from work.
One thing I had taken note of was how out of place Chrollo looked among the ordinary people of York New City. Of course, there were always those who marked their individuality with the way that they dressed. I tended to like those types of people more, anyway—their energy felt much more genuine. Chrollo, however, stuck out even more than them. He'd buttoned up his long jacket back at the bus station so his bare abdomen wasn't exposed, and even before we arrived at the first bus station, he'd taken out a sort of fabric headband from his pocket and wrapped it around his forehead to conceal his tattoo. After all that, though, he still looked strange next to all of the humdrum citizens of York New, almost as if someone had plucked him from another time period and placed him in the present. I couldn't decide if that time period would have been past or future.
He had ordered something called an Uber for us. We needed to get through major parts of the city to some back-roads abandoned sector for Chrollo's car. The driver, Cadence, was nice enough to him, since he was the one who did all the talking and the paying, but I could tell she was slightly put off—or was that intrigue in her eyes?—by his appearance. It might have helped that I was with him, and that he had me dressed so regularly, but I couldn't tell for sure. Cadence hardly even acknowledged me; she was too busy batting her eyelashes at Chrollo.
It had surprised me, the strange feeling that grew in my chest when she asked him if he wanted to sit up front with her. It was an indignant feeling, an irksome emotional reaction that made me feel like I was being wronged for some reason. I wanted him to sit by me. Perhaps it was just because of how safe I felt next to Chrollo in such a foreign sprawling city, but either way, I didn't like the feeling of jealousy. I'd never met Cadence before in my life, and I realized I already hated her. Her voice was high-pitched and squeaky and made my ears ring.
I'd tried to push down the smugness in my thoughts when Chrollo kindly refused and sat in the back next to me. Even when he did so, though, she wasn't perturbed from trying to carry out a conversation with him and him, alone.
The drive through the city had felt like it'd taken an infinite amount of time, even more so than our walk, although I knew that wasn't true, logically. The streets were so backed up that we spent more time at a standstill than actually driving. Chrollo told me it's always this way in York New City. When we'd finally gotten through the worst of the traffic, it was around ten o'clock, and we still had another hour and a half before we would get to where his car was.
He just had to leave his car on the absolute opposite side of the entire goddam city, I'd thought groggily to myself.
I actually did fall asleep for the remainder of the time in the Uber. Chrollo had to shake me awake, and when I'd opened my eyes, I realized we'd already parked at the location of where his car was. He'd helped me out of the Uber and thanked Cadence. I'd noticed her hand him a small piece of paper after he paid her, but I'd hardly been aware enough to pay attention to what was on it. In fact the only thing I really remember about that location after she drove away was the eerie feeling that crept up my spine at the sight of all the abandoned broken down buildings. If my energy would have come back sooner, I might have asked him why his car was in such a strange place to begin with. As luck would have it, though, I didn't start feeling awake until he had already pulled out of where we were and onto the road. He'd told me we'd be at our final destination around one in the morning as we drove further away from the city.
I opened my eyes again and peered at the clock.
12:34 am.
We still had another half hour before we would arrive. I looked out the window, gazing absently at the passing shades of misty indigo washed in faded moonlight, interrupted only by the light from the lamps posted alongside the highway. Chrollo had kept the heat on in the car when we first started driving because I was cold, but now that I'd been sitting at the mercy of the air vent for almost an hour, I realized I was too hot, but I didn't know how to turn it down.
Biting my lip, I leaned forward a little and studied it, looking for an off button or something of the sort. All I found, though, was a miniature lever that closed the vent. I closed it but still felt air coming from it due to the force it was blowing at.
"Do you want it off?" Chrollo asked, his voice breaking through the white noise of the car and the air vents.
"Yes, thank you," I murmured, slightly embarrassed that I didn't know how a car worked.
Obviously I'd seen cars before and been in cars before, but it had been so long since the last time I traded locations. The only time anyone was able to even look at the outside world back where I came from was when we were bought by another slave master, and that only happened to me once. I was ten years old, and I'd been drugged with some kind of sleeping medication. I barely remember anything about the car I was in, just that it was a car.
Because of that, I didn't know how to drive a vehicle or operate the controls. I wondered as I watched him mess around with the buttons on the stereo and the large touch screen if Chrollo would bother teaching me that, as well. I wasn't exactly expecting him to, but I knew I'd have to learn at some point. It seemed pretty vital out in the real world.
I sighed as the air was shut off. The rest of the drive to wherever he lived was quiet. I watched as he turned onto an intersecting road—it was much smaller than the three-lane one we were just on. It was also a lot bumpier, but I found myself enjoying the little hills we drove over. It made my stomach leap, and at one point, he drove over a hill so fast that I gasped and laughed. Chrollo turned his head to look at me, a small smile in place on his lips, and then turned straight again to focus on the road.
Finally, when the clock hit just a few minutes after one, I felt the car lurch and slow as Chrollo turned into a long gravel driveway. Looking up curiously, I squinted my eyes and tried to see in the darkness where we were. Two enormous stone pillars marked the end of the gravel road and the beginning of what looked like a brick circle drive, but it was hard to make out details at night.
The building, which I was assuming to be Chrollo's home, was massive. All of the siding and window frames were dark, probably black, and the makeup material looked to be pale stone and brick. It was two or three stories high, and the front of the home was exaggerated by the enormous ornate main doorway. I admired the beautiful porch from what I could make out of it—there were vines twisting up the stone pillars and steps. The entire exterior was very Victorian or old English, like something I'd seen out of a fantastical historical fiction book from the few times I snuck into the library when I was with my first slave master. The entirety of the home seemed to make perfect sense for Chrollo.
As we pulled into the grass alongside the circle driveway and I stepped out of the car, I couldn't help but crane my neck to look up at the beautiful building. I thought I heard Chrollo chuckle gently. I heard the car honk once as he locked it, and I followed him up to the elaborate porch. I wondered why he needed such a big house—he didn't strike me as the kind of person to live with his friends in a commune. What also confused me is the fact that he didn't have a key for the enormous front doors; he simply pressed the handle and pushed them open. Wordlessly, I followed him inside and gaped through tired eyes at what I saw.
The interior was absolutely stunning. The main room we entered was a beautiful modern twist on a very dark old English style, the floors being a waxed intricately designed tile and the high-up ceiling making the room feel colossal. Two large ornate staircases went up from either side of the room to another large hall, the railing being a smooth, shiny wooden material. As I stood still in astonishment, trying to take in the entirety of the room, I noticed that the color scheme was dominantly red, beige, gold, and black, the red being a very deep wine shade. I also took note of the remarkable pieces of art hung up on the walls between doorways. Each of them seemed to have a very religious feel, either having the symbol of a cross or an inverted cross as the focus or background feature within the painting.
Are these originals?
Chrollo didn't seem like the kind of person who would waste time on a copy, but if they were all originals, either he spent an obscene amount of money on them or he painted them all, himself. They seemed oddly specific, each of them matching his energy and presence perfectly. But if he was the creator of them all, he was certainly gifted.
"Are you coming?"
I blinked and turned to see that he'd walked ahead to the left staircase, one foot up on the base of it, paused as if he'd realized I wasn't following.
"Y-yes," I stammered, gripping onto the straps of my backpack tightly.
Chrollo unbuttoned his coat as we walked up the wide stairs together. I tried to keep my eyes away from his body and focus instead on the details of the woodwork accenting the whole interior of the house.
He turned to the left once we were on the second floor, and I followed him down a dim hallway, peering curiously into the few rooms whose doors were open. One of the rooms looked like a large study of sorts, while another was completely empty and very small. These walls, as well, were decorated with various paintings and the occasional hanging ornament. At the end of the hall, he led me into a room on the right.
"You can sleep in here tonight," he murmured softly, gazing at me with gentle gray eyes, ones that were outlined with tired shades of purple. "If it isn't to your liking, I'll show you a few other rooms tomorrow, but you must be tired."
The room was medium in size, filled only with an expensive looking vanity and mirror and a large bed placed exactly in the middle, pushed up against the back wall. There was one window on the right side of the room beside the bed, but it was covered with heavy tapestry-like curtains, and the floor was a fluffy carpet. The room was simple, but it was still much nicer than anything I'd seen.
"Okay, this is perfect." I smiled at him, hoping he knew without my having to explain how happy I was in that moment.
He was silent as he stood with his hands shoved in his coat pockets, staring at me with unfocused eyes, looking as though he were in a trance. Although I knew he'd mentioned his insomnia before, it genuinely worried me in that moment how exhausted he looked. His face was a pasty pale white, his cheeks gaunt and thin with the weight of his body's desire to rest.
Even so, he was still beautiful.
"Chrollo?"
He blinked, focusing again.
"Yes, (Y/n)?"
I stepped closer to him, looking up at the headband still wrapped around his forehead, hiding his tattoo. I didn't like it—he looked much more like himself when I could see the strange cross symbol between his eyes. Reaching up, I gingerly stretched my arms around his head and loosened the tie. Chrollo gazed curiously at me, but I didn't meet his distracting amber-gray stare. Instead, I focused on pulling the headband away from his face, as well as trying to ignore the effect his close proximity always had on me.
"Promise me something," I demanded, taking hold of his left hand and placing the fabric wrap in his palm.
A sort of groggy surprise looked evident in his expression. His head lowered as he looked down at our hands, and he closed his long fingers over my wrist gently.
"Perhaps," he answered hesitantly.
I chuckled weakly at his wary response, truthfully very worried for him, but unable to deny my jump in heart rate at the feeling of him holding my hand.
"Promise me you'll sleep tonight." My words were almost a plea. "You look more exhausted than I am."
Chrollo's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and if I could have identified an emotion in his otherwise emotionless face, it would have been a sort of wondering confusion, like he was silently asking the question why.
"I'll try," he whispered softly. He leaned closer to me slightly, and I couldn't tell if it was because he looked like he was about to pass out or if he was doing it intentionally. Then, his eyes focused on me again, and he pulled his hand away from mine carefully, standing straighter. "We'll talk more in the morning and begin a plan for training."
I gazed sympathetically into his tired face, smiling. His lips twitched into a half-grin, and with that, he turned to leave the room, his barely-heard footsteps brushing softly on the hard darkwood floors of the hallway. I crossed my arms over my chest and pursed my lips, staring at my feet for a moment, expecting to hear the sound of his shoes fading as he retreated, but hearing nothing. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him standing statue-still outside the doorway.
"Goodnight, (Y/n). Sleep well." His voice sounded far away, like he was deep in thought over something too serious for words.
"Goodnight, Chrollo. You, too."
He didn't turn to face me as I spoke. I studied the inverted cross on the back of his coat as he walked slowly down the hall, away from my room.
With a heavy, heavy sigh, I set my bag down on the floor and partially closed the door. My mind felt like it was lagging, like I couldn't quite process everything that was happening, as if it was happening too fast. I'd just met Chrollo a few days ago by chance, although apparently he'd been following me for however long before. For some reason, though, it felt like I'd known him for much longer than that. He was mysterious, confusing, and definitely kept his fair share of secrets from me, and yet at the same time, it seemed like he was being entirely honest with me, generous even, and I found myself wanting to understand him more.
I knew I didn't deserve any of this. At least, that's how I've always felt about anything I was given freely. It's how I was trained to think.
But I'm on my own now. I made a successful escape. I finally did it.
A dismal, numb sadness washed over me as I realized I had no one to celebrate with. I used to imagine, as a young child, making my great escape and fantasizing about telling my mother somehow, or making my escape for her honor. Now, though, I didn't want to show her or dedicate it in her honor. She was nothing to me; she'd never done anything for me besides put me into a cruel, cruel world. I was utterly alone.
I couldn't cry, not even if I wanted to—I didn't want to. I stumbled over to the bed and kicked off my shoes, glad that the pants Chrollo bought for me were loose and comfortable enough to sleep in. Honestly, I wasn't terribly tired. In fact, I felt much more awake than I'd felt three hours ago. But I actually wanted to sleep now. I didn't want to stay up with my thoughts any longer.
I reached up to flip the switch on the one lamp that offered a dim orange sheen to the otherwise lightless room, blackening my surroundings as I climbed underneath the covers and closed my eyes. Before I relaxed completely and allowed sleep to overtake my mind, I realized I wasn't exactly utterly alone, not anymore—I would be with Chrollo, if only for a while. For that, I fell into what started as a restful slumber with an absent smile on my face.
- - -
"You stupid fucking slut!" he screamed, hurling a shot glass at the wall behind me.
I tried desperately to stand still, my knees shaking uncontrollably and threatening to give out beneath me. I felt so small and helpless. I couldn't keep the tears flowing out of my eyes at bay. The viciously angry man in front me was big, much bigger than I, tall and fit, much stronger than I. There was nothing I could do when he stepped forward and bent down, grabbing my young face roughly with hands the size of my head.
"You think you're entitled to anything in this life? You think you're entitled to anything at all?" He laughed mockingly, squeezing my face so hard that I felt a squealing whimper arise from my throat. He let go and slapped me hard in the jaw. "Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch. How dare you set foot in my library? Do you think you deserve anything?!"
He slapped me again, rendering me silent while the tears flowed relentlessly down my face. I couldn't fully understand why he was yelling at me.
I haven't seen him in so long. What am I doing back here, at my first slave master's house?
"I'll chain you to the floor this time, pesky little shit." He violently grabbed my ear and began walking out of his study, dragging me along behind him unsympathetically.
I felt my lungs begin to work, and a loud scream came from the depths of my stomach. Fear and hatred and helplessness were the only things I could feel—I knew what was coming next. I would be whipped and tortured and raped until I promised never to disobey again, just like the last time I was caught in the library, and the time before that.
I knew all I had to do to prevent this was to behave—well, mostly. Sometimes the master got bored and came in to "play" with me. But I couldn't help it; any time I even sensed an opportunity, I longed to escape to the library. The fictional worlds I could immerse myself in every time was worth it. Mentally, I would visit them whenever he began touching me. He could control my physical actions maybe, but never my thoughts.
I felt him release me, and then there was a sickening thud in my ear. He punched me between my shoulder blades, knocking the breath from my lungs and cutting off the scream in my throat. I lay stunned on the ground. I think he picked me up by my hair after that—I couldn't tell any more. The pain was too much for me to handle. He was so much stronger, so much bigger, so much taller.
I was thrown on the floor a few minutes later, and I felt his foot connect with my gut in a kick that made me gurgle. Was that blood in my mouth or just stomach bile? All I could think about as he turned to grab the paddle and whip was my inherent, infinite desire to be free—or maybe it was the desire to murder him so brutally and ravage his body past the point of recognition.
He began unbuttoning his jeans, and a wide, disgusting smile contorted his face as he. . .
My eyes shot open. I gasped for breath, reaching up and grabbing my neck as if something had been putting pressure on it and limiting my airflow. I waited for some kind of pain, still thinking in my brain that what I'd been dreaming was reality. Looking around wildly, I searched for his face, but I only found creamy walls and fluffy carpeted floors in a small, cozy room. My breath regulated slowly.
Where am I again? Where's. . .
I was in Chrollo's home. I was nineteen years old, turning twenty in a few weeks. I wasn't nine years old anymore making escapades to the library just to read historical fiction. I felt my face relax, and the tension in my shoulders loosened. I was safe; I was free.
What time is it?
Slowly standing up, I pulled the curtain away and peeked outside. Seeing that it was still dark, I knew it was still very early hours of the morning. That meant I'd only been asleep for two or three hours at least, maybe four hours.
"Well, I definitely can't sleep now," I whispered hoarsely to myself.
My voice felt raspy with lost sleep and a dry mouth. I almost thought about getting up to find Chrollo, but if he made good on his promise, he would be asleep. Hopefully, for his sake, he was. I couldn't bring myself to wake him if he truly was, though. That would be selfish.
With one of the smaller blankets at the foot of the bed, I wrapped my shoulders tightly, shivering as I walked quietly out of my room. The door creaked just barely as I opened it, making me cringe. I hoped his room wasn't anywhere near mine, because with my luck, I screamed in my sleep and woke him up. Rolling my eyes at my thoughts, I crept down the hall out of my room.
I felt dirty; my skin felt dirty, as if there were still hands grabbing me and words burrowing into my veins and contaminating the helpless little girl who should've been protected. The manic need to scrub away every haunting trauma started as a minor urge, but quickly became a racing, desperate sensation, and my eyes flickered wildly across the hall during my slow procession, searching for a bathroom or even just a sink in one of the many rooms. My teeth gritted together as I tried to dampen the dried confines of my mouth. I worked to shove the rising panic away. If I couldn't drown my intrusive thoughts in Chrollo's strangely comforting presence—or perhaps it was only comforting because he was the first human in my life to extend any sort of prolonged kindness to me—I needed, needed, to find another way.
In only moments, however, my eyes locked to the opening of a small cubicle, and I recognized the muted glint of silver coming from a faucet which stretched over a porcelain countertop set into the left side. I threw the blanket down immediately, stumbling into the bathroom and slamming the door shut, scrambling for the lights and the lock. My mind moved in a flurry, and suddenly, my clothes were on the floor, water was screeching softly from the shower head in the large tile chamber at the far end, and then I was submerged beneath the gently beating droplets, hardly caring that I hadn't allowed it to warm up completely.
I stood still. My chest rose and fell ruggedly, and my eyes were screwed shut. I leaned my head back, feeling the water spill into my hair and trickle down my face and neck and shoulders and torso.
Clean. Clean off the feeling. You aren't there anymore.
Get rid of his disgusting hands; remove all traces of the way his vile desires dirtied the soul of a vulnerable child.
I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm free.
Before I knew it, my shaky hands were grasping unsteadily at a bottle of some sort of soap, or body wash. My eyes were half open now as I snatched a scratchy, fluffy shower ball—I couldn't remember what it was called to save my life. And then, I scrubbed every inch of my skin. Hard, too hard—I would cause irritation if I didn't stop, but I couldn't. Not until every inch of my skin tingled and itched from being scrubbed raw.
My breaths were heavy still, loud, but not quite as panicked as before. I didn't know how long I spent in that shower, wrenching shampoo and conditioner into my hair and whatever else I found lining the shelved walls of the chamber, but I didn't care. It didn't feel long—not until I jaggedly lowered onto my knees with the water still streaming onto my backside, and remained unmoving for a dazed twenty minutes or more.
Exhales came smoother; inhales weren't so forced. Gradually, I soothed my panicked state, viciously shoving away each prying attempt from a flashback, and I ambled tiredly out of the shower, shutting off the relentless flow. With the towel, as well, I scrubbed at my skin, but less roughly this time, just enough to irritate it only a slight bit more. I refused to look at my reflection as I dressed myself once again, mechanical in the way I moved. And although I yawned, I knew that it would still be impossible for me to sleep just yet as I shut off the light and stared down at the blanket I'd left on the floor.
I probably shouldn't have left this here, I commented numbly to myself, pulling it back around my shoulders and contemplating one last time over whether or not I would go back to bed and wait for morning.
No, I decided. Perhaps I could explore the house a bit, or look for anything which might take my mind off of what it seemed so dead-set on returning to. I made an effort not to grit my teeth again before gripping the blanket too tightly and stepping further down the colossal hall.
As I did so, a strange scent drifted towards me. It smelled like musky burning herbs. It was a very smoky scent—was something on fire? Alarm grew just slightly in the pit of my stomach as I began walking a little quicker, searching for the source of the smell. I made it to where the stairs were, but I realized there was a haziness coming from the other end of the hall past both staircases. Curiously, and a little bit worriedly, I tip-toed further and peered into each of the rooms.
I discovered that the last room on the left was the source of the smoke. Trying to be quiet, though not really knowing why, I carefully peaked into the room. This room was large, much larger than mine. The floor was the same darkwood floors as in the hallway, but there were a few different rugs in place beneath the large dresser and the desk in the right hand corner. The bed was enormous—it could comfortably fit three people, maybe four. It was sleek, low to the ground, but the headboard was an elaborately detailed wooden piece. The blankets were all burgundy red, and the pillows were black. They looked disturbed, like someone had been in them but recently left.
Chrollo.
Is this Chrollo's room?
It made sense—on the table in the right hand side, there was an unfinished painting of a bloody-looking cross stuck on a hill in what looked like a thunderstorm. The art style looked similar to the pieces decorating the rest of the house, so I deduced that he must also be a painter. There were messy stacks of books sprawled all over the floors around the desk, and there were two or three books on the bed, as well. Definitely, this was his room.
I realized I'd slowly begun stepping further into the room, warily accounting for the bits and pieces that might clue me in on my surroundings. The scent of the smoke forced me to stifle a few coughs, and I found myself breathing gingerly. I was close to the bed now, noting the existence of normally-sized french doors on the left side of the room. They were both open, leading to a little balcony outside, and it looked like the smoke was sparsely flowing into the room from there. As I walked closer, I felt the soft breeze against my stripped face and cold, half-dried hair before I saw him sitting with his back facing me in a velvet red suede chair.
Pausing hesitantly, I saw that he was not wearing his coat—in fact, it looked like he wasn't wearing a top at all, and his hair was slicked back against his head. He placed his elbow on the armrest, revealing a thick cigar between his index and middle finger. I clutched the blanket tighter, watching him silently.
At least I know the source of the smoke isn't from a fire, I mused inwardly as Chrollo exhaled and a puff of smoke flew over his head, the wind blowing it into the room and towards me.
"Couldn't sleep either, (Y/n)?" he inquired calmly without turning to face me, his husky voice breaking the quiet between us.