illicit | five hargreeves - EDITING

fifty eight

fifty eight: for better or for worse

The Commission was not a place that Anthony particularly liked, even after spending eight long years of his life working for the company. Back then the time felt so slow and the eight years were hell, but now he could barely remember half of the things that went down there, which was probably for the better in a way, everything just sort of all faded together into a blur.

He supposed it made sense considering he spent most of his teenage years hopped up on the pills that the Handler made him take, and when he had finally learned the trick to not take them without her knowing, he just spent his time blandly trying to get through each day. It was actually hard to stop himself from just going back on the pills, because at the time it felt easier to be doped up than to have to deal with everything while entirely sober.

Anthony honestly couldn't even remembered half of the things they had done to him throughout the years, but the parts he could remember was enough for him to not even want to know what happened during what his memory had blocked out. He decided what he knew couldn't hurt him, so he was just better off staying oblivious to it all.

What he could remember was already painful enough to think about; he still had the proof of the physical abuse from the scars that tainted his seventeen year old body, and that wasn't even the worst of it considering everything else from eighteen to twenty four was no longer there.

The mental abuse was worse and still effected him now more than he would like to admit. As much as he loved Five, sometimes a part of him inside still felt as if it was wrong, as if they were wrong.

Anthony was jumpy in public, Five had noticed that a long time ago, only really showing the affection to his husband in front of the people he trusted; Diego, Luther, Klaus, Viktor, and he recoiled from it if anyone else was around and watching.

Even going past the conversion therapy that had very clearly failed, because it never works, he still held other fears from the Commission. If anyone ever raised their voice too much or even raise a hand around him, he would flinch. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night in a panic because he didn't know where he was and he was convinced he was back inside his own personal hell.

When it really came down to it, the Commission really was the root and the origin of most of the pain and problems that had gathered in his life over the years. Anthony regretted taking the offer to work there more than anything, and the thought of it played in his mind a lot more than he'd ever admit.

Anthony really couldn't think about what happened there for too long because he honestly couldn't even mentally handle the reminders; the conversion therapy, the surgeries, the pills, the consequences, his own suicidal thoughts, his eating disorder.

It all just came down to the Commission.

It was fucking torturous, those eight years felt like he was quite literally going through hell and that he spent the entire time desperately trying to get out on the other side. It was so severely fucked up, and Anthony was sure he would never even fully recover from the after effects of it all.

Everything that had happened to him was already bad enough, and all of that wasn't even including everything they had done to Five. His Five, his husband who they had used for their own personal gain and implemented physical violence or sick mental tricks in order to force him into submission so he would comply to whatever they said.