Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

98. The Things We Carry, Pt. 1

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CONTENT WARNING:

This chapter contains themes of sexual trauma that may be disturbing or troubling for some readers. Please proceed with caution.

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When Neil was done, he lay on top of me for a moment panting into the crook of my neck, then zipped up his pants and promptly walked out of my room, leaving me alone in the dark lying half-naked in my bed. A sharp, throbbing pain radiated from between my legs, and I felt something warm start to slowly drip onto my bedsheets. I didn't even have the strength to shudder in disgust, much less to turn on the lamp and inspect whether it was blood or semen coming out of me. But the next morning, when I finally pushed myself out of bed, I looked down to find that it was both.

I skipped breakfast that morning. I assumed no one thought much of it — it wasn't uncommon for me to sleep late — but when noon came, I stuffed a sanitary pad in my panties and made my way downstairs for lunch, wordlessly taking a seat near the end of the long dining table.

I think Angel was the first to suspect something. All throughout lunch, I struggled to sit comfortably in my chair. I had done my best to mask my winces and pained grimace, but he noticed them anyway.

And given what he'd told me about his own past, I knew he could easily deduce what had happened to me.

He didn't say anything, though — I suppose he didn't want to assume. Nobody said anything.

But I could tell that they all knew something had happened. It made me wonder if they could see it, if Neil had left marks that were visible to everyone but me.

A couple days later, one of them finally tried to say something: That evening after dinner, I'd taken a bottle of spiced rum from Husk's minibar and started toward the stairs to my room. I never had very much to drink at a time, and I always drank at the bar with Husk and Alastor — so for me to grab an entire unopened bottle of liquor with the intent to drink alone was a blatant sign to them that something was wrong.

"(Y/N), my dear," Alastor said, standing from his barstool and reaching out for me. "Are you alri—"

I gasped when his hand curled around my shoulder, and I whirled around and swung the bottle of rum at him as hard as I could.

Alastor immediately released me, barely dodging the bottle and holding out a hand slightly to block any further attacks. His scarlet eyes searched me for a moment, and his signature smile shrank until it was almost a straight line.

Tears pricked my eyes, and my body began to shake. "I-I'm sorry," I muttered quietly, slowly bending down and placing the bottle on the floor before turning to run upstairs.

I told Charlie what happened about a week later, when I could no longer take the thought of living under the same roof as him. I had actively avoided Neil ever since that night, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I ran into him again. So, I went to Charlie's office one morning and told her the truth.

Charlie was silent for a while, even after I'd finished talking, but she eventually fixed me with a stern gaze and simply said, "Let me take care of this."

A few hours after I spoke with Charlie, I headed down the hallway toward the stairs when I heard what sounded like an argument. I recognized their voices, but I couldn't decipher what they were saying. Slowly, I made my way downstairs to the front lobby, where I stood frozen at the sight of Husk approaching Neil and roughly grabbing him by his shirt collar.