The Only One

Chapter 9

This one's a little shorter than usual, but there's a LOT here (just reads the TWs) so it took a lot of mental energy to write. Sorry again!

Chapter 9: TW mention of sexual harassment, panic attack, second person self hatred, second person blaming self for sexual harassment, suicidal thoughts, nightmare about sexual assault, implied self harm

Virgil went back to school that day. He was pretty happy with how it was going, he'd gotten quite a few laughs in just the first half of the day. That was most of his measure for a good school day: how many times he got people to pay positive attention to him.

He shared a class with Marina after lunch, but that teacher was really strict and took no one's shit, saving Virgil from having to answer aggressive whispered queries concerning where the hell he'd been last night.

He kept his jacket and bag with him the whole day, and as soon as Ms. Franks dismissed the class for the end of the day he sprinted out of school to his bus stop and almost knocked over an old lady trying to get on the bus before anyone whose name starts with M could find him. When he got home, his dad was somewhat suspicious about why he'd showed up so soon but Virgil went to his room without saying anything. He wasn't breathing properly because of how much running he did, but the lack of oxygen turned to panic and he started freezing up.

"Why the hell do you even have to do this, she's your girlfriend. You're straight and she's your girlfriend and you're a straight boy with a girlfriend and that girlfriend wants to fuck and you're a straight seventeen year old boy so what the hell are you running from?"

No, fuck off, he wasn't straight and he knew that and that was fine and--

"Of course you're straight, what the hell else would you be? What is wrong with you?"

He was gay, and that was perfectly alright, lots of people are gay and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that--

"Disgusting! You're actually entertaining the proposition that you're a faggot. Disgusting. You disgust me. You disgust everyone around you. If that's true, why the hell would you do what you've done with your *girlfriend*? Why would you even have a girlfriend? If that's true, you're a horrible person for leading her on, and doing all of that-- You're basically a rapist."

What in the-- no, he hadn't tried to do anything, it was her that--

"*What?* She's the girl! You're the guy! Girls don't violate people like that, that's not possible! You are the worst kind of scum, you're trying to victimize yourself for something *you* did to an innocent girl, and you deserve the worst for that. You *know* what you have to do, the earth did nothing to deserve the trash that you are walking around on it. Humanity is worse off for your existence. Why are you still here? You're so selfish for continuing to impose yourself, creep that you are, on society."

Virgil had calmed down now, and was breathing normally, but two things were extremely clear to him: one, that the longer he was alive, the more hurt he caused, and two, that he was painfully exhausted. He sat down on his bed, turned to his windowsill to find his razor blade, and fell asleep before he could lift his arm.

And suddenly, he was awake and in bed but Roman was also there, and he looked down and realized neither of them were wearing any clothes, and he had no scars, and then Roman's hands were on his waist and they were closer together...

But then there was a searing pain in his leg and every single scar was back, and bleeding, and there was no Roman, only something horrid with long hair and professionally manicured claws, and She was is the same position Roman had been but Her muscles were tensed up and Her grip sent a throbbing pain through Virgil's body... He knew what was going to happen in advance this time, but that didn't make it any better. This time, he also knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.

It was a little different. This time, when She was done with him, he woke up. He had no new bruises, but he felt the creature's blunt grip still all over his body. He wanted more than anything to squirm out of the body he was in, the body that belonged only to Her now. He needed to stop feeling her touch, but he couldn't do that. The closest he could do was replace the pain.

Twelve deep scores later, he didn't have the energy to keep dragging the blade through his skin. He saw the alarm clock next to his bed announcing 4:37 AM. Shit. He still had school in the morning. It wasn't like he would have been able sleep anymore, but a tiny bit more time to superficially recover wouldn't have hurt. With new, panicked energy, he grabbed his old pair of leggings and wrapped them around his leg tighter than ever before, hoping he could staunch the profuse bleeding before he had to leave for school.