Summary:Severus Snape never asked for a distraction, but the one he receives the first morning of a new term will have to do.
Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (Physical Abuse; Black Eye; Professor!Severus Snape; Mentor!Severus Snape; Slytherin!Reader; Hogwarts Student!Reader; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Implied/Referenced Abuse; Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse; Anxiety; References to Depression; Lily Evans & Severus Snape Friendship)
Requester:Anonymous
Request: “Please the one where se*ually and physically abused slytherin comes to Snape for help, without the detailed description of the assault plz. She suffers from anxiety and clinical depression. Snape is cold at first and then gets really protective and angry.”
Notes: Here’s another request from Tumblr, my first Harry Potter one. I’ve never written a platonic relationship between a student and teacher before (or a romantic one, for that matter)—and oddly this is only the first of a handful of these kinds of requests I have on my list now. I hope that I did a decent job.
Please keep in mind while reading this that some of things Severus says may not be the best thing to say in a situation like this. He’s a wizard, and not a trained Healer at that, so I tried to think of what he might say in this situation instead of what he shouldsay.
“Resourceful” Is Not a Dirty Word
Another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry began just as the ten prior for Potions Master Severus Snape. He ate a meager breakfast as quickly as possible so as to avoid spending any more time than necessary with students outside his house or classroom. He made forced polite conversation with Minerva until she finally handed over that year’s class schedule. And he settled at his desk at the back of the dank, cold dungeon to prepare for his first class in the last bit of peace and quiet he could expect until the Christmas holidays.
True, an undercurrent of anger buzzed throughout his body as he went through his annual routine. A typical year would find him more apathetic than furious before he had to deal with the odious task of teaching. But no matter what Severus did that morning, no matter what path he forced his mind to take, he could not keep his thoughts from turning again and again to the fact that Harry Potter now walked the castle halls. He tried to grit his teeth and bear it by manually writing the instructions for his first class’s assignment on the chalkboard. There was, after all, no reason to take out his temper until the boy himself reared his ugly head, and that would not be for some hours yet. Before that happy time, he had an O.W.L. class of Gryffindors and Slytherins and a gaggle of third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to endure.
Then he heard the unmistakable sound of someone unlatch the door to the dungeon behind him. They opened said door only as far as they had to to slip inside, after which they pulled the door shut again with great care.
His hackles raised at once. Potter. The thought was ludicrous. Severus knew that as soon as it occurred to him. Potter would likely struggle to find his first class on time, let alone a place as out of the way as the dungeon. Yet Severus could not shake the feeling he’d had since he first set eyes on the boy at the Welcoming Feast the night before: James Potter’s son would not fail to torment him. James would have seen to that.
Severus spun, his black cloak billowing out ominously around him. The threat of taking points from Gryffindor was on the tip of his tongue when he spotted the actual intruder:
“Miss [Last Name],” he said in his softest voice. No one attempted to sneak up on him and got away with it, not even a member of his own house.
Sensing his displeasure, you frozen in the process of sliding into a seat at the very back of the room. Your expression was difficult to read that far away in the dim torchlight surrounding only Severus. He saw no reason to light the entire room up when only he occupied the dungeon. But one thing he could see very clearly: only one eye sparkling in the flickering flames. Vivid purple and green skin swelled the other shut.
“Good morning, Professor Snape,” you murmured.
He did not return your polite greeting. “I do not harbor students after they have been fighting in the halls. You may hide from Filch in your common room or you may turn yourself in to his tender mercies, but I shall not got involved.”
This being the start of your fifth year at Hogwarts, you ought to have known his feelings on misbehavior quite well. He did not care if Slytherins broke the rules so long as they showed brains enough to not get caught. Coming to him in the hope of help once spotted by another teacher or the caretaker would earn you nothing more than Severus’ ire.
Apparently this was one lesson you had not learned. You remained rooted to the spot rather than rushing away at this suggestion. Curious. After all, he made it a point to know the strengths and weaknesses of the students within his purview, and he had never noted you to be unintelligent. Perhaps a firmer hand was needed.
“I also do not appreciate when students come early to proffer their assistance,” he said. “I have no need for the aid of an unqualified witch. Your time would be better spent in the Hospital Wing, Miss [Last Name], and I expect that you will return from there at the proper time for class.”
Such a dismissal could not be mistaken for anything else. He returned his attention to the inventory list on his desk. Only a few lines in, Severus found himself interrupted once more.
“Oh, no, s-sir. I didn’t m-mean to—” The curl of his lips must have made you think better of stammering. You stopped, took a deep breath, and then went on a mite more calmly: “I didn’t come here to disturb you, sir. Or to help you prepare for class.”
“Then what is it that you do want?” he asked.
“Nothing, sir.”
“You would not have sneaked into my classroom while my back was turned for no reason. Spit it out. You are wasting my time.”
An inhale. An exhale. You looked nervously at the door.
“If you expect me to protect you from whomever you are fleeing from, you are sorely mistaken. You must be the one to finish the duels you choose to enter into.”
“I haven’t been fighting at all, Professor!” you protested.
Something about the pitch of your voice rang true. Things added up. He had never known you to pick fights in the corridors. Of course, the more boorish Gryffindors, such as their contemptible quidditch captain, would not care about that if they cornered you alone outside the Great Hall—but even that Severus doubted. Tensions between quidditch teams never rose so early in the term, and only two of the Gryffindors would dare to enrage Minerva before classes even started. What would they get out of doing so by picking on someone like you anyway?
Severus made his slow, calculated way down the aisle between tables to where you sat, back straight and stiff as a wand. Your bruise only grew uglier the closer he drew. Perhaps you knew this, for you ducked your head the moment he stood beside you.
“Look at me,” he ordered, and you reluctantly did so.
Your [color] eyes swallowed him whole. The entire process took a matter of seconds. He found himself standing next to you outside of the heavy door to the dungeon. True to your word, he could see no one in pursuit—and the ghastly muggle wound remained bright around your eye.
So he would need to go farther back.
He followed your memories backward through the morning, though your skipping breakfast, getting out of bed—Severus carefully skipped over your dressing for the day—sulking throughout the Welcoming Feast, and lurking alone in an empty corner of the Hogwarts Express. The black eye never vanished or faded.
“I see,” he said as he exited your mind.
The statement caused the color to drain from your face. “See what? Sir.”
“If you are not having problems with your housemates, I suggest you return to the Great Hall. Fifth year is difficult from the start. You will need your strength to get through my class today.”
“No, please, sir!”
You made a motion as though to grab his sleeve. Did you realize how lucky you were that he did not curse you on instinct for doing so? Severus doubted it. Narrowing his eyes, he took a small step backward and away from your grasping hands. At least you had the grace to look embarrassed for that disgusting display of desperation.
“Please let me stay here until class starts,” you murmured to your feet. “I’ll be quiet. I promise.”
“And how do you intend to keep such a promise?”
“I’ll read my textbook. You won’t know I’m here. Please, sir. Please.”
Upon the second please, you lifted your eyes to meet his again. The mark on your face reminded him unpleasantly of the face he used to see when he looked in the mirror during his days as a student—and more unpleasantly still of those who made his face look that way.
“Why?” Severus asked at last.
“I just…” Taking a deep breath, you plunged forward in as slow an explanation as he thought you could manage, “I don’t want the other students to gawk at me like they always do. Every time I get back from a holiday, it’s the same. I’m tired of it, sir. I just want them to leave me alone.”
I just want them to leave me alone. Yes, he could recall the same words coming out of his mouth once upon a time, and exactly who he said them to, if not who about. He’d had so many tormentors that even staying at the school for Christmas could not keep him away from all of them. Likely you had discovered that yourself over the past five years. What was it that he’d overheard one of your dormmates saying just last September? Something about the red blemishes [L Name] tried to hide as she pulled her robes on in the morning. At the time, Severus had dismissed the conversation as the cattish gossip so typical of fourth-year girls; now he realized it had been something more.
“How long?” he said in his softest voice.
“Excuse me, sir?” Your single huge eye betrayed your feigned ignorance without any need for him to resort to legilimency this time around.
“How long has someone been hurting you?”
“No one has been…” But you trailed away upon noticing his scowl.
“Do not try to lie to me. We both know you have not been fighting with your fellow students, so where else would you have received such a wound? Let me guess,” he went on over your attempted objection, “someone at home did not appreciate your being sent your acceptance letter.”
Silence. Given how still you kept yourself, Severus expected you were concentrating on not shaking in his presence. He could not see that you so much as breathed.
“Five years, then. At least. That answers my first question. Now on to the next: Who?”
“No one you would know, sir,” you said very quietly.
“A muggle, then.”
“No!”
“Then who? Spit it out, girl! Do you think I care to expose your lineage to your housemates? I have better things to do with my time than facilitate drama for my students.”
Your mouth opened—but only for a moment before your lips clamped shut. Perhaps he should have expected he would have to pull the answer from you millimeter by painful millimeter. He had not wanted to tell Lily, after all, and she mattered to him in a way that Horace Slughorn never could.
“Miss [L Name], I cannot help you unless you talk to me. And if you refuse to talk to me, this begs the question of why you felt it necessary to interrupt my work so early in the day. You have taken up enough of my preparation period. You may not stay unless you begin telling me what I want to know.”
Time passed. With no ticking clock on the wall of his classroom, Severus could not say how long your stare down lasted. He could have entered your mind once more while he waited. Instead, he looked down at you wordlessly. You would leave if you valued your privacy over your pride. It seemed you favored the latter, for in the end you finally replied:
“My father.”
The raw anger he felt at hearing these words must have shown on his face and terrified you far more than any of his threats had that day. You hastily went on:
“He’s not my real father. I don’t know who is. Mum married Edgar while she was pregnant with me, and she left when I was just a kid. It’s just been him and me there ever since.”
“And he does not approve of you or your mother being witches?”
“I think he’s just jealous. He’s a squib, you see. Mum’s family arranged the whole thing before anybody knew, and by then it was too late for her to get out of it. Please don’t tell the other Slytherins, Professor! They think I’m pure-blood. If they knew the truth, between that and my eye and the other bruising, the girls in my dorm would—”
“What other bruising?”
Your face darkened until it reached a shade nearly matching that of your swollen eye. “Things got worse this summer. He—”
Severus held up a hand to staunch the sudden flow of your confession. “I do not need the details.”
“Yes, sir.” Ashamed, frightened, or chastised, you cleared your throat several times before continuing, “Anyway, sir, I just wanted to sit down here in the mornings until my eye fades a bit. Is that all right with you, now that I’ve told you everything?”
Under ordinary circumstances, it would not have been all right with him. He could not risk all the students in Hogwarts starting to believe he would offer them shelter from the harsh realities of life. But as he stared down at you, he thought of his childhood and all the pain and ridicule it had brought him at the hands of James Potter and his merry men. If Horace had offered him respite, would Severus still hate him so? Obviously. The situations were, however, quite different, as Severus doubted Horace had faced a day of adversity in his entire life.
“I will consider your request,” said Severus, “if you also tell me what you plan to do about your situation at home nextsummer.”
“Do?” you echoed.
“Yes, ‘do.’ Do not be dense. It does not become you. No one else is going to ride to your rescue. You will therefore have to rescue yourself.”
“But—But how? I’m not of age! In a few years, maybe I can move out, but until then—”
“That’s not good enough! I have watched you, Miss [L Name], as I watch all Slytherins. You are ambitious, clever, resourceful, determined. That is what makes you a true Slytherin, not whether or not you were raised by a blight upon wizarding society. So what, I ask again, are you going to do about it?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Think then. Have you contacted anyone at the Ministry? There are people in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who might be able to offer you assistance.”
“Oh, no, sir!” Tears sprang to your eyes. “I can’t ask anyone for help. I didn’t even want you to find out. What will some random Ministry official think? They’ll laugh at me.”
“Such a viewpoint is narrow-minded and foolish to a startling degree. Asking for help is utilizing resources. Did I just not tell you that doing so made you a Slytherin?”
You gave him a hesitant nod. If he let you go now, you would surely promise to owl the proper authorities and never do so. Your tormentor would have free rein whenever you went home until such a day came that you could bring yourself to leave. Who knew what he could escalate to if allowed that kind of freedom? Severus needed to get you acting now.
“Very well. We will forgo the Ministry for the time being. How will you go about fixing your problem by yourself, then? I am sure that you are fully capable of doing so.”
“No, I’m not! Professor, even if I were as smart as all that, I can’t use magic outside of school. You know that.”
“Except in life-threatening situations, I believe the rule goes. It seems to me that you are more in need of the reminder than I. Be that as it may, you don’t need to use underage magic to brew a potion, now, do you?”
An eager light dawned in your eyes as the suggestion sunk in. He could see your imagination unfurling with a hundred different plots at the very idea. Though he did not necessarily disagree with the sentiment behind these plans, he did feel it was his burden as your head of house to dissuade you from the messier ones.
“You cannot kill him with a potion, much as the man might deserve it. That would attract the authorities, both magic and muggle. But you could use your skill in potions to keep yourself safe for the duration of the summer,” he said.
Safe. You mouthed the word rather than say it allowed, savoring the weight and taste on your tongue. Two of your fingers lifted to gently prod the blackened corner of your eye.
“What potions, sir?” Your tone sounded much more confident than it had all day. “Please tell me. I’ll study them. I’ll know them by heart before I get back on the train.”
“I will do better than give you a list. I will teach you myself.”
Your jaw went slack in a truly deplorable display of shock. Severus chose to be relieved you did not hug him instead of frustrated at your surprise. It was unusual for him to invite students for private lessons, especially for students doing adequate work in his class. A few seconds went by before you were able to control yourself enough to say, “Thank you, sir.”
“It will not be easy,” Severus warned. “I expect you to do exactly as I say exactly when I say.”
He allowed you a pause to accept this condition. You did so with a quiet nod.
“Very well. First of all, you will be here in my classroom an hour before class begins each week, starting next week. Arrive late, and our agreement will come to an end at once.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I also have one other condition.”
The happiness dancing in your eyes faded somewhat. “Yes, sir?” you asked guardedly. As though he would ever put you in the same position as that sorry excuse for your so-called “father.”
“You allow me to escort you to the Hospital Wing this morning. I cannot allow your current appearance to distract the rest of the class, now, can I?”
At first, he could tell that you wanted to argue. Accepting help from him was one thing; showing anything to Poppy would be quite another. Most students at Hogwarts knew she didn’t ask questions about whatever magical maladies plagued them—then again, this was not a magical malady. Perhaps you knew his presence would stave off any attempts on Poppy’s part to get to the bottom of things, because after a moment of mental struggle you said:
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good,” Severus said as he went to the door. He made it all the way there while you remained rooted to the spot. “Come along. Unless you want to run into your dormmates on the way.”
With a start, you stood, grabbed your book bag, and rushed right past him into the hall. Severus stopped only long enough to lock the door behind you both. Then the two of you headed side by side toward the stairway leading to the higher floors of the castle.
A tremendous waste of his time, taking a fully-functioning teenage girl to seek medical attention? Undoubtedly. But staying nearby to make sure you didn’t run off before Poppy finished with you did keep his mind off the imminent arrival of one Harry James Potter. And was it truly a waste of time to help one of his Slytherins get through a nasty childhood like his? As Severus watched Poppy tut over your black eye, he thought not—although no one would ever hear him admit it out loud.
“Chrystul Kizer, now 19, was 16 when she met a 33-year-old man named Randy Volar. In February 2018, police arrested Randy Volar on charges including child sexual assault. But then, they released him without bail. Volar, a white man, remained free for three months, even after police discovered evidence that he was abusing about a dozen underage black girls and operating business by sex trafficking underage girls. He remained free until Chrystul, then 17, went to his house one night in June and allegedly shot him in the head.
She was and still is a vulnerable child taken and manipulated by a man nearly twice her age.
Let’s raise money to post bond so that Chrystul can organize her defense from outside prison and get some very needed medical care mentally and physically. She has suffered through years or sexual, physical abuse and trauma. She needs HELP. She does not need to rot away in prison for the rest of her life. There is a lot of hope here. Please research and help.”
[from the website: https://ca.gofundme.com/f/exyhfm-free-chrystul-kizer]
Her bail is set at $400K. They have currently raised $23,512 towards that goal. Note: this is the fundraiser for her BAIL, not for her lawyer’s fees, which I was raising awareness for before this post. Please share this around, and donate if you can! Chrystul has already contracted coronavirus in prison. It would be healthier for her to be at home with her family while she prepares for her trial.
Right now it’s at $23,932. Just so you guys know, one of the four officers involved in George Floyd’s death was released on a bail of $750,000 last week. It was a lot less than Chrystul’s bail, yet he got out within a very short time period. Meanwhile, Chrystul is still in prison after two years.
I hope you all don’t sleep on this post now that BLM isn’t trending as much. Let her be home while she awaits her trial.
rupikaur_♥️ so many of you have asked what you can do to support the #farmersprotest : slide through for info or read below
1) post on social media to raise awareness. i know this seems small. but it creates a ripple effect that will save lives. i’ve been advised by many human rights organizations that raising awareness on social media is the most effective tactic when dealing with the indian government. they are highly sensitive to international attention- so let’s give it to them.
2) put pressure on your local politicians and those with influence. put pressure on the media. ask them to speak up and bring attention to india’s human rights abuses. when freedom of press is attacked- democracy dies. every statement from officials around the world puts pressure on the indian government to take accountability for their human rights abuses.
3) if you’re interested in donating- @khalsa_aid is a great international humanitarian organization who is helping providing resources to farmers on the ground.
thank you for your endless support family- i love you all ♥️ your thoughtfulness and desire to change the world is forever inspiring
our people started protesting in punjab as early as july 2020. they marched to delhi on nov 27 and have been sleeping on the streets since. punjab- haryana- up- rajasthan. and beyond. the people are united across religion and geography. singing songs of freedom. our people feeding the masses. our people dying. activists abducted. journalists kidnapped. the government is currently building walls of cement and spikes around protest sites to cage people in. they try to defame our heroes. they sexually assault women in police custody. but truth will prevail. all of you. all of us. the diaspora marched and continues to give its heart out. onward. louder. stronger my friends. it’s working ✊✊✊#farmersprotest p.s. i can hear modi crying while throwing a temper tantrum music to my ears !!! (graphics by my sis @taranamol)
WE HAVE BEEN SCREAMING AND PROTESTING FOR MONTHS. THANK YOU RIHANNA FOR FINALLY MAKING THE WORLD NOTICE.
Note: Sequel to Day 23. I didn’t feel like leaving the story there. I felt that there was so much whump potential in the aftermath. I’m late again cause this was just so difficult to write. Same warnings apply. Nothing too explicit but Non-Con, NSFW, torture warnings still apply even if just in a brief flashback.
Luigi watched the last of the guests leave. The President had been rushed to the hospital where he had been pronounced dead on arrival. Luigi approached his brother. “What the fuck is going on, Pavi?”
Pavi turned to him, face serious. “Follow me, fratello. You’re not going to like this.”
“Like what?”
But Pavi didn’t say anything. He headed towards the lift and Luigi followed. Pavi was never this serious. Luigi didn’t like this. And the repeated comments about the President’s drink. Did Pavi do something to it?
Luigi followed Pavi into Dr Smith’s office where the girl Pavi was with earlier was sitting quietly. “What is this, Pavi? You wanted to keep the President’s girl so you killed him?”
Pavi didn’t say anything. He just passed him a sheet of paper.
Blood test 1 and Blood test 2 (Amber Sweet): 100% match.
“What…what the fuck is this!?”
“I don’t-a think sorella ran away. I think-a he took her.”
Luigi looked at his brother then back at the girl. “Amber?”
The girl didn’t look at him; her eyes were on the floor.
“Look at me, you stupid slut!”
The girl flinched and cowered from him.
“Fratello!”
The girl just curled into herself and shook.
“Is this some sort of fucking prank?”
“No.” Pavi bent before her. “She doesn’t seem to remember anything.” Pavi placed her gentle hand on hers. She flinched but didn’t pull away.
“What did he do to her?”
“I don’t-a know. But he deserved much worse than-a what he got.”
“Carmela.”
The girl’s brows furrowed. Did she…did she recognize that?
“Mela, do you know where you are?”
“Mara. My name’s Mara.”
“Mela, do you know where you are?”
She nodded. “GeneCo. I…I need to get back to the Master. He will punish me.”
Something in Luigi’s chest flared. “Punish?” He growled.
Pavi gave him a warning look. “He is-a dead. He won’t-a touch you anymore.”
The girl’s brow furrowed. “Dead?”
“Si. You’re safe now. You’re home.”
“Home?” She looked around then settled on Pavi. “Do I belong to you now, sir?”
Luigi’s hand clenched into a fist. What did that bastard do to his sister?
“No, sorella. You’re safe. You’re home now.”
“Safe?”
This wasn’t his sister. This wasn’t his fucking sister.
“I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want.”
“No one will-a hurt you here.”
“If I’m good. I know. Just listen and I won’t be punished.”
Luigi couldn’t take this. He left the office. Rage filled him. If only the bastard wasn’t dead. He punched the wall. He imagined it was the bastard’s face. He punched the wall once more.
“Fratello?”
“He deserved more than what he got.”
“I know. But-a we couldn’t get caught. And it had-a to be tonight. Or he would-a take her back.”
Luigi punched the wall once more. “What were you doing with her?”
“He offered her to The Pavi to have fun with.”
Luigi punched the wall once more with a firm crack. Pain radiated up his arm. He let out a growl and slid to the ground. “1 fucking year. He took her for 1 fucking year and we didn’t-” He slid to the ground.
“The forgery was-a perfect. We searched everywhere. It wasn’t-a like we didn’t search. If she looked like-a that as soon as he took her, we would have never recognized her.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“It was-a an accident. I spoke Italian and-a she responded. I would have-a never figured it out otherwise.”
“I want to tear him apart!”
“He’s-a dead.”
“He got off too fucking easy.”
“I know. But-a sorella is the priority now.”
“What can we do, Paviche?”
“Just-a remind her who she is. Remind her she is-a safe. That’s-a all we can do.”
“How the fuck did we fuck up so badly?”
“I don’t-a know, fratello.”
***
“Good. You’re finally awake.”
She opened her eyes. No. Why was she back here? She tried to move but she was tied down to the bed.
Her master ran a hand down her cheek. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, pet. You tried to run away.”
No. She got out. She got out. Why was she still here?
Her master held up a metal stick. He stroked her with it. “I told you, if you were a good girl, you won’t get hurt. It seems you still need to learn.”
There was a sound of something crackling. A sharp pain shot through her. She screamed as her body shook and convulsed. As soon the pain started, it stopped. She breathed heavily.
“Beg me to stop.”
She wanted to beg but her throat was stuck. She couldn’t say anything.
The sound of crackling and another sharp pain shot through her. But it didn’t stop. She arched and screamed and convulsed but it didn’t stop. Please stop. Please. The pain disappeared. She crumpled to the bed, sobbing.
“Oh, is the Ice Queen crying? Go on then, beg me to stop. It’ll end so much faster.”
Her mouth still refused to move. “Fuck you.” No, she didn’t want to make him angry. Why was she making him angry?
He grinned. Another shot of pain filled her. She shook and shook. He was going to kill her. She felt her heart thump painfully in her chest. He was going to kill her. Her limbs contorted; her back arched. The pain stopped and she slumped downwards. Her heart was beating funny. Why was its rhythm off?
“Is that all you can take?”
“Please.”
He grinned. “See, you can learn. That’s all you have to do pet.”
Her heart was skipping beats. She couldn’t breathe. She-
The metal rod was forced inside her.
A scream escaped her lips before she could stop it.
“Don’t struggle. You don’t want me to accidentally push the button do you?”
A whimper escaped her lips.
“Now you’re going to be a good girl. And if you bite me again, I will turn on the cattle prod while its inside you.”
Something was forced into her mouth. She choked as she felt it at the back of her throat. She gagged. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t-
***
“Sorella, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Sorella.”
Her eyes shot opened and she backed away. “Don’t touch me.” She shrunk back.
“Ok, sorella. I’m-a not touching you. Just-a breathe.”
She wasn’t in that room. She was…she was… Where was she? Why was she here? The master would punish her. The master would… She looked up to the masked man. Right. He was her new master. She yelled at him. He would punish her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Sorella, there’s-a nothing to apologize for. Just-a calm down.”
He was going to hurt her. He was going to punish her. She tried to back away but there was nowhere she could go. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I’m not-a going to hurt you, sorella.”
“Please. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”
“Sorella…”
“Please. I’ll do anything.”
Arms surrounded her. He was going to hurt her. He was going to punish her. She fell still waiting for the pain.
Nothing happened. The arms didn’t let her go. But there was no pain. This…this felt familiar. This shouldn’t feel right but it did. She felt safe. She felt safe.
***
“-lease.”
Luigi sighed as he entered the hospital room Amber was staying at. Dr Smith wanted to keep an eye on her. He didn’t want to do any surgery on her until she was well enough to consent. Luigi had asked him to report what he had found. Dr Smith just gave him a dark look and refused. No matter how much he threatened him, he refused.
“What’s going on?”
She turned to him. “Please. I’ve been good. I’ve done everything you ask. I get Z if I’m good. Please.”
“Fuck.”
She flinched.
“Fratello…”
“Shit, I hadn’t…” He took a breath to calm himself down.
“Please sir. I’ll do anything you want. Just give me Z.” She approached him carefully. She dropped to her knees before him.
Luigi looked away. He couldn’t see his sister like this.
“I’ll do anything you want. Just give me Z. Anything you like.”
A hand touched his groin and unzipped his pants.
“Motherfucker!” He shoved her back. “Don’t fucking do that!”
Amber was sprawled on the ground. She was staring at him in fear.
“Fratello, calm down.”
He hadn’t meant. He hadn’t… Fuck he could do this. He couldn’t watch this. He left the room. He found the dent in the wall. He punched it. Again. And again. And ag-
“Stop it fratello, your fingers have barely set.” A hand grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” He snatched his hand back and sent it into the wall again and again. He let out a frustrated scream. Crack. There. He was satisfied. He looked at his hand. It had turned purple once more. Good.
“Damnit, fratello. Dr Smith will-a put you on a full cast if-a you keep doing that.”
“I can’t…I can’t deal with her like this. You fucking deal with her.”
“You don’t-a get to walk away.”
“I’m not… I can’t fucking see her like that.”
“It’s-a difficult for me to see her like that as-a well. But it doesn’t-a mean you get to abandon her.”
“I’m not-”
“She needs-a us.”
Pain shot through his hand as he roughly zipped up his pants. He knew…he knew what The President did to her. But to see it, to actually realize… He slammed his left hand into the wall.
“Is-a one fractured hand not-a enough?”
“If I can’t punish that bastard-”
“You’ll-a punish yourself?”
Luigi froze. “We should have found her.”
“This won’t-a change what happened. But we can-a help sorella now.”
“How?”
“I don’t-a know, fratello. But running away is-a definitely not it.”
Luigi closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine, Paviche.” He headed back to Amber’s room.
She just stared at them wide-eyed. She sat subserviently on the bed.
Luigi sighed and sat on the chair furthest from her. He couldn’t lose his temper.
Amber was staring at his hand. “Did someone punish you for being bad too?”
Luigi sighed. He really didn’t want to explain why he was punching the wall. “Yes.”
Amber glanced at Pavi.
“Pavi didn’t-a do anything, Carmela.”
She approached him cautiously. She gently took his hand in hers.
“It’s fine, Mela.”
“What did the poor wall ever did to you, brother?”
Luigi froze. “Mela?”
Amber didn’t say anything. She just examined his hand some more. She-
A blinding sharp pain shot through his hand.
He bit back the curse. He couldn’t scare her. “What are you-” He breathed heavily.
“The bones have to be put right.”
“Leave it, Mela. The doctors will see to it later.”
“The doctors will make it worse.”
Luigi froze. He placed a careful hand on her chin.
Amber stiffened.
Luigi dropped his hand immediately. “No one here will hurt you. If anyone so much as touches you, you tell me. I will fucking tear them apart.”
“Fratello.” Pavi warned again.
Amber didn’t cower but she didn’t say anything.
“No one is allowed in this room except for the two of us and Dr Smith. No one will hurt you.”
***
The withdrawal was bad. Luigi hadn’t noticed when Amber was withdrawing the first time. But sitting here, watching it first-hand. He watched her shake and throw up again. She kept begging them for Z but they held firm. Luigi’s limit however was when she reached for his pants again.
“Fucking hell, Carmela. I swear if you-”
She cowered from him. She hadn’t shown fear in so long. All their work undone by… Fuck. He headed to the door.
“Fratello!”
Luigi stopped and took a breath. He had to stay. No running away. He sat back in the chair. “I’m sorry, Mela. I hadn’t meant to raise my voice. Just please don’t…”
“Ok.” She said softly. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just give me Z.”
Luigi sighed. “It’ll be out of your system in a few days. Then you’ll feel better.”
“Asshole.”
Pavi whipped towards Amber in shock. “Sorella?”
But she didn’t reply as she always did when pieces of their sister appeared.
“Just rest, Mela.”
***
It’s been a week since Amber stopped withdrawing. She didn’t even ask for Z anymore. Dr Smith suggested they bring her back. Maybe familiar surroundings would help her remember who she was. He watched his sister walk into their home. She looked around cautiously. Slowly she broke away from them and started walking around by herself. She stopped in front of an old family portrait.
“Who’s that?”
“That’s papa, sorella.”
She paused. “No. Her.” She pointed at herself.
“That’s-a you, sorella.”
Her brows furrowed and she looked into the mirror. “No, it’s not.”
Luigi sighed. “Dr Smith says the surgery to look like that again would be extensive. You would require Z. He’s not keen on it and neither am I. But smaller scale surgeries, maybe a face transplant or something would work with the older painkillers. You can do that later, if you want Carmela. Once you get better.”
Amber just touched her own face and then the one in the portrait.
“Come on, Sorella, I’ll bring you to your room.”
Fear filled Amber’s face. “No. I’ve been good. Don’t lock me up again. Please. I’ve been-” She stopped herself. “Yes master.”
“We’re not-a locking you up, sorella.” He brought her to her room.
Her brows furrowed as she looked inside. “This isn’t…”
“This is your room, sorella. You can-a keep the doors open if you want. We’re not locking you inside.”
She slowly stepped into her room. She ran a hand on her table. “I… Do you want me to strip, master?”
Pavi sighed. “No, sorella.” He entered the room, giving Amber a wide berth. He opened the cupboard. “You can change to something more comfortable if you want, sorella.”
“The master chooses my clothes for me.”
“Thatman is-a dead. You can choose your own clothes, sorella.” Pavi just watched his sister stare at her dresser. “It’s-a almost time for dinner, sorella. Me and fratello will be waiting at the dining room. You can come when you’re ready.”
***
Pavi awoke with a start. It was dark. He…He couldn’t breathe. What was… Something was pressed against his face. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to move. Something was holding him down. He struggled. The pillow was pressed harder against his face. He tried to buck the person off him. They held firm. He fought harder. His lungs screaming for oxygen.
His hand slipped free. He grabbed the wrist holding him down and twisted. It released the pressure just enough for him to gasp in a breath. He pulled his other hand free and grabbed the other arm. He pushed the attacker back. He slammed them against the bed and-
Pavi froze. “Sorella?”
“Let me go. I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Sorella, it’s-a me. It’s-a Pavi.”
“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Pavi pinned Amber’s hands on top of her. He hit the light switch beside his bed. “Sorella, it’s me.”
“You’re…you’re not him.”
“No, sorella. It’s me. It’s just me.”
Pavi watched his sister disappear from her eyes. Fear filled them and she cowered back.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.”
“I’m-a not going to hurt you, sorella.” He released her and stood. He headed to the light switch and turned it on.
Amber blinked and stared at him.
“Did you have another nightmare, sorella?”
“I…I was there again. Hewas there. I thought…”
Pavi cautiously held her hands. She didn’t flinch. “He’s dead, sorella. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I…” She looked around desperately. “Yes. He’s dead. You…you’re my new master now.”
Frustration filled Pavi. “Sorella.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not your master, sorella. Stop calling me that. It’s me. It’s Pavi.”
“I…” She looked at her hands. “Ok, master. I’ll call you Pavi if you wish.”
Pavi released her hands. He sighed. “Just try to get some rest, sorella.”
“Ok.” She quietly left his room.”
***
She headed to the dining room. Her master was already there. She quietly sat in her chair. No, not her chair. The master told her to sit there. It didn’t belong to her. Nothing belonged to her.
The master didn’t look at her. He seemed upset. No. She would get in trouble if he was upset. She was going to be punished.
She had to do something. Her previous master liked it when she got on her knees. Would that…no the master didn’t like that. She looked at his hands. He liked touching her hands. Would that help? Slowly, she placed her hands on his.
“So…sorella?”
“Do you like this, master?”
The master sighed and pulled away his hands. Right. The master wanted her to call him Pavi. She forgot that. He will punish her.
“Motherfucker!” He flew to his feet. He was soaked with coffee. “That’s fucking hot, you clumsy bitch.”
She froze. “You fucking bitch!”
“You’re going to fucking pay for this.”
“I’m going to punish you so badly; you’ll be pissing blood for a week.”
“Fratello, stop it!”
The girl backed away, fear on her face. “Please don’t hurt me.”
She backed away from him. But she had nowhere to run. She had nowhere to run.
“Fucking bitch.”
He kicked her in the stomach. Again and again and again. Everything hurt. She couldn’t move. Please someone help her. She cried in pain but no one was coming.
“Fratello, stop it now!”
He stomped on her abdomen. She felt something burst. She screamed in pain. He was going to kill her. She was going to die.
“Motherf-” There was a growl of pain.
“Fratello!”
“Get the fuck out of here now.”
She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to-
He was going to hurt her. He was going to kill her.
“Sorella, just take deep breaths. You’re safe. You’re alright.”
She forced herself to breathe. The master gave her an order. She had to follow. She had to listen. She forced her eyes open. The girl was gone. The master released her.
Her eyes fell on him. He was breathing heavily; a knife buried deep in his thigh.
“Did the Master punish you for being bad?”
The master stiffened.
“No, Mela. Pavi didn’t do this.”
“Did…did he make you punish yourself?”
“I’ll give you a choice, pet. I can place this knife into your eye right now. Or you can stab yourself anywhere on your body.”
“No, Carmela. It wasn’t-”
“I don’t…I don’t-a understand. I’ve done nothing to you. I’ve been by your side since the start. I’ve been-a patient and caring. Fratello’s the one losing his-a temper and what, you think-a I’ve been-a torturing him.”
The master was angry. The master was really angry. She was going to get it now.
“I don’t-a know what to do anymore, sorella. I…I’m-a trying. I know it-a takes time. If-a you treat us both like… I’d-a understand but… Did I do something to you to make you so scared of me? Did I do something wrong? I’ve been-a trying so hard but…”
No. He wasn’t angry. He was hurt. Why?
“Forget it sorella. It was always-a easier for you to forgive him. I will leave you alone. I can’t keep-a babysitting the both of you. If it’s-a easier for you to deal, I will leave you alone.” He turned and left.
“Pavi!”
Wait. Stop. No why did she want him to stop. If the Master left her alone…no not master. Her master was dead. He was…he was…
“Damn it.”
She looked up at him. He was gripping his thigh. It was bleeding. She approached him quietly.
“Leave it, Mela. I’ll see to it later.” He didn’t look at her. He was staring at the door.
“Why? If no one makes you do it, why?”
Luigi sighed. “Mela…” He looked at her than look away. “I can’t control…” He took a breath. “I feel… It gets too much sometimes. I need a way to get it out.”
She spotted the bandages. She gave a quick glance to her sleeping brother. She undid the bandages. Long deep cuts ran down her brother’s arm. She touched it.
Luigi awoke with a start. “I had a fight with the mirror. Don’t go in the bathroom, there’s glass everywhere.”
She just stared at the scars. There was something off about it but she didn’t know what. She was too young to understand. “Is…Is Pavi going to be ok?”
Luigi turned away from her. “I don’t know, Carmela. I fucked up so badly.”
She pulled up Luigi’s sleeve. Those scars had healed. But there were new cuts; shallower but no less angry.
“Carmela, don’t.”
“Does Pavi-”
“This has nothing to do with Pavi. He didn’t make me do anything.”
No. “Does Pavi know?”
Luigi sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve been better at hiding it but these last few weeks have been…”
Difficult. Dealing with her had been difficult. “I’m sorry.”
Luigi closed his eyes. “I’m just going to make things worse.” He stood painfully. “I’m going to get this stitched up. Talk…” He sighed. “I’m not forcing you to do anything. But…Pavi has really been trying. This isn’t easy, Carmela. I’m not blaming you. It’s just…been hard.” He headed to the door.
“Brother. It wasn’t your fault. What happened wasn’t your fault.”
“I can’t help you, Carmela. Not like he can. I can’t do anything-”
“You’re here brother. It helps. I know it doesn’t seem like it. But it helps.”
“I keep losing… I can’t control my temper. I can’t keep… You were never scared of me before. I’m making things worse, Mela.” He pushed open the door.
“Don’t give up on me.”
“I’m not, Mela. But I’m making you worse, not better. You deserve better.”
***
She watched the Mas-Pavi sit on the bench in the Greenhouse. He was quiet. He-
She sat next to Pavi and leant onto his arm. “Brandon broke up with me. He said I wasn’t pretty enough for him.”
“Sorella,” He sighed. “Your boyfriend was an asshole.”
“He isn’t wrong.”
“Sorella, you look-a lovely.”
“Then why won’t you take my face?”
He froze. “Sorella…”
“See, it’s not good enough for you.”
“It’s not like that, sorella.”
“Mommy wouldn’t have left if I was pretty enough for her.”
“That’s not true, sorella, you know that. Your mother was…” Pavi sighed. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”
“Daddy won’t let me have surgery.”
“You don’t-a need surgery, sorella.”
“Everyone in school has had one. We own GeneCo and yet daddy won’t let me do anything. They make fun of me.”
Pavi sighed. “I’ll help you convince papa. But do it only because you want to, sorella. Not to make the other girls happy.”
“What if I want to make the other girls jealous.”
Pavi grinned and smacked her head playfully. “Do it for yourself, sorella.”
“You’re the only one I can talk to, brother. You’re the only one who understands.”
She slowly sat next to Pavi. She leant onto his arm.
“Sorella.” He sighed.
“I’m remembering.”
Pavi froze.
“It’s not much. But I’m remembering.” Her voice turned small. “It’s hard. Some days I wake up and I feel like me but one trauma, one trigger and…” She felt a gentle hand on her arm. “He punishes me when he’s angry and that’s why when Luigi starts yelling, I… but those were never so bad. It meant beatings, punishment but that was it. It’s when…it’s when he’s nice; when he’s polite is when it’s the worse. That’s when he would have friends over or he wants to try something new. That’s why…it’s harder with you. I’m sorry.”
“Sorella, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault.”
“No. I have to say it. This is the clearest I’ve ever been. If I regress…I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Sorella, I don’t need you to take care of me. Just focus on yourself.”
“I know you’re trying to take care of us, Pavi. I see it. Luigi sees it. I need you to remember that when I forget.”
“Sorella please. Don’t worry about me.”
“You were here for me, for Luigi, when daddy died. You were probably grieving too but…I think we took it for granted you were ok.”
“I am ok, sorella.”
“It’s ok to not be. You don’t have to pretend for us. I knew all this before but…it was so hard to say.”
Pavi sighed. “Sorella.”
“Do you think things can go back to normal?”
“No. But it’s ok. You’re here. I’m here. Fratello’s here. That’s enough.”
“What if I never get better?”
“I will be here sorella. No matter how hard it gets. I will be here. I won’t leave you alone.”
“Yes master.”
The master’s eyes closed. He looked…sad. He placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I’ll be right here, sorella.”
Note: I’m sorry. I know I’m late. I know I’m falling behind. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Trigger warnings: I usually don’t post trigger warning cause it’s all in the tags. I’m posting them here now because it’s NSFW and it’s non-con. I need to emphasize that. It’s nothing too graphic but it happens. So please, read the tags, all the tags before proceeding. I felt so terrible writing this. And honestly I regretted it halfway but I was already falling behind
“Next item for auction. A precious, rare item that would probably never grace our halls again. Going for 25 million dollars. Miss Amber Sweet, CEO of GeneCo.”
The bag was pulled off the creature on the stage. She squinted as the lights blinded her. He saw the fear hidden behind the arrogant contempt that bitch always wore. He grinned. He found his new plaything.
Whispers echoed through the audience. They were all wearing masquerade masks and only their assistants were allowed to speak for them; a façade for hiding their identities. But he knew who each and every one of these insects were. No one hid from him.
“Show us a sample.” A voice from the audience called out. Assisstant to Mark Black; tech genius and CEO of MobileTech.
The auctioneer approached the GeneCo head. She snarled at him. Any malice negated by the fact that she was bound and gagged. Her clothes were stripped off her; leaving her clad in black lingerie.
Someone in the audience whistled in approval. Kelvin Grant. CEO of Fashion Tech.
The girl glared at them but she just looked like a cheap prostitute from here.
“Anything more will be the privilege of the winner of the auction, of course.”
Someone boo’d. Joseph Chase. CEO of Charmaceuticals.
“Let’s start the bidding at 25 million.”
“50 million.”
The bidding war started. The price climbed quickly. He watched horror enter the girl’s face.
“750 million.” Mutterings filled the room. How much were they willing to pay for a one night stand really? But he…he had a new toy. She would be worth everything.
“…going twice. Sold to number 27 for 750 million. Next item on our list-”
But he’d lost interest. He had his new pet. “Extensive surgery. Change her face; remove any recognizable scars or birthmarks. Change her body shape if you have to. I don’t want anyone to recognize her.”
“Yes sir.”
***
Everything hurt. How long has she been here? Why haven’t her brothers come for her? Someone had to come for her.
She looked around her room. Well, barely a room. It had no windows and only a single arm chair and queen sized bed filled it. Nothing else. No mirrors. No dresser. Nothing. Why would she be given a dresser? The man stripped her lingerie off her the first day and she has worn nothing since. She fought the embarrassment. She won’t let this affect her.
The door opened.
She fought her urge to cower. She couldn’t look weak. She refused to look weak.
The man who bought her walked in still wearing the same masquerade mask. “Hello princess.” He stroked her cheek.
She fought the urge to shrink away. Instead she spat at him.
He grinned. And slapped her hard across the face. The force sent her sprawling on the ground. “It seems I haven’t broken you yet. I really don’t like damaging my pets.”
Amber tried to get up. A foot stomped down on her back sending her crashing to the ground. She refused to scream.
“I think my pet needs to understand who she belongs to.” He kicked her onto her front.
“Fucking bastard.”
“Shhhhh. Bad little pets need to be punished.”
Four men ran into the room and held her down. Her eyes widened as the fifth passed him a red hot poker with a seal on top. “No.” She whimpered.
“Yes pet, beg.”
She glared.
The man just grinned and pressed the poker onto her stomach.
She screamed. Searing pain filled her stomach. She struggled but the men held her down.
The poker was lifted but the pain still persisted. Tears burned in her eyes. She forced them back. She won’t let them see her cry. She won’t.
“Get on the bed.”
The men released her.
Shakily, she got onto her feet.
“Get on the bed.”
Every step sent searing pain through her. She gingerly sat on the bed.
“I don’t usually like to share. But you men have been working so hard.” He sat in the arm chair. “Go ahead. Have your turn.”
“No.” She backed away. But there was nowhere to run. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” Two men held her down. She kicked one of the men in the groin. The other two grabbed her legs and spread them open. “No.” She fought.
She heard pants unzipping.
She bucked and fought but they held her down.
A sharp pain shot through her as he forced himself into her.
She looked at the ceiling. She focused on the ceiling fan. Just as she had done every night she was here. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t here. She was at home; in GeneCo, safe. She was in her room, getting ready for bed.
The man’s grunts distracted her and forced her back to the present. She felt the bedsheet scratching her back. Her stomach was on fire. Hands. So many hands holding her down. And this terrible pain going in and out and in and-
The fan. Just look at the fan. She was not here. She was not here. She was…
Her brothers would come for her. Her brothers would find her. Someone would save her.
***
Amber studied the scarred crest on her abdomen. She traced it. She knew who was behind this. She imagined stabbing a poker in the bastard’s eye. She imagined herself slicing his skin off until there was nothing left.
The door opened.
Amber flinched back. What new torture did he have for her today?
“Oh my pet is so good today.”
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
He stroked her cheek. “You must be in so much pain. Let me help you.” He pulled out a Z gun.
Amber’s eyes widened and back away. “No.” She was clean. She was fucking clean.
“Shhhhh. I’m being kind. Don’t you like it when I’m kind?”
“No.”
He grabbed her hair and pulled. “Don’t you remember what happens when you don’t listen?”
“Please.”
“Yes. Beg me for it. Beg me to give you Z.”
No. She was clean. It took her so long to give up Z.
“Beg. Me. For. Z.”
“Please. Please give it to me, sir.” Disgust filled Amber.
“As you wish, pet.” He placed the Z gun against her thigh.
She closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her fac. No. Not Z. Not-
The gun went off.
A thick haze filled her. She felt calm and relaxed. And why was she so upset?
She was pushed forward onto the bed.
It was so comfortable.
She felt a pressure from behind.
She felt…nothing.
***
Pavi watched their guests dance around the hall. He wasn’t in the mood for a party. But GeneCo still had to keep up appearances. It’s been a year since their sister ran away. Pavi sighed. It was so unlike his sister. He wished she would have talked to him about it first. She didn’t show up for work one day and they found a letter in her room saying that she couldn’t stand the stress of running GeneCo anymore; that she was leaving Luigi in charge of GeneCo and she was leaving for good.
It just wasn’t like his sister. She was the one who wanted to run GeneCo. If she really hated doing it; Luigi would have been happy to take over. And she could still stay here doing whatever she wanted. Why the hell did she have to leave?
Pavi spotted the President come in. He sighed. Time for work.
“Mr President, we are-a delighted to have-a you here tonight.”
“I am delighted to attend.” The man smiled charmingly. “And please for the last time call me Francis.”
“The Pavi wouldn’t-a dare Mr President.” Pavi turned to the girl standing at the President’s side; a small wallflower who wouldn’t meet his eye. “Has-a the Mrs President gotten a new face?”
“Unfortunately no. The Mrs is in Europe for business. So I thought I’d show off my latest prize.” He turned to the girl. “Show Mr Largo your face.”
The girl slowly lifted her face but did not meet his eyes.
“Your-a face is-a beautiful, bella.”
The girl didn’t say anything.
“Isn’t it? It cost me a fortune to redo the bone structure but I think the result is exquisite.”
Pavi held the girl’s chin. “Yes, truly exquisite.”
“You know what, Mr Largo. I’m getting rather bored of the girl’s face. I think it’s time she had a new one. If you really like it, you can have it.”
Pavi grinned. “That’s-a very generous, Mr President.”
“Just please don’t kill the girl. She won’t fight.” He said with a wink.
“Follow me, little one.”
The girl looked at the President and he nodded. She approached him quietly.
“Oh and Mr Largo, I don’t mind sharing. You can take her for a test run.”
“Maybe The Pavi shall.” He held out her arm for the girl to take. She just stared at the ground. He gripped her wrist and brought her upstairs to his room. The face truly would be perfect for his collection. The way the skin gently fell on the cheeks; the perfect nose structure. It truly was perfect.
“Go on, Bella. Lie on the bed.”
The girl obediently laid on the bed and spread her legs.
Pavi traced the features on her face. It was lovely. Pavi hiked up the girl’s dress.
She didn’t protest or fight; she just lay there.
“Bella, it’s-a much more fun if you fight or at least act like you’re enjoying it.”
“I’m sorry.” Came the small voice.
Pavi placed his hand on the inside of her thigh.
There was no reaction. She just laid there; staring at the ceiling.
Pavi sighed. “You’re really not-a making this fun, Bella.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t-a you like this, bella?” He stroked her thigh.
“Yes sir. Please give it to me sir.” She sounded like an emotionless robot; pre-programmed to say the lines.
Pavi sighed. He’d lost interest. He pulled down her skirt. “Come on, bella. I’ll just take your face and you can go back to your date. You’ve spoiled my mood.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl sat up. She didn’t react when he put the blade to her face.
“Questa bella sa davvero come uccidere l'umore (She really knows how to kill the mood).”
“Scusate. Cosa desidera che faccia, signore? (Sorry. What do you wish me to do, sir?)”
Pavi froze. “You understand Italian, Bella?”
“No.”
“You just-a spoke fluent Italian.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve never learned Italian in my life.”
“Dove hai imparato a parlare italiano? (Where did you learn to speak italian?)”
“Non ho mai imparato a parlare italiano, signore. (I’ve never learned to speak Italian, sir.)”
It was strange. She spoke Italian fluently; the sentences were full, the grammar perfect. Definitely not someone who’s only just learned Italian. But her pronunciation was off. But pronunciation like that with that kind of fluency didn’t make sense. Almost like a child who was forced to learn another language but was never interested; so they learned half-heartedly but used it often enough, they could speak it.
“Farfallina bella e Bianca,”
“Vola vola mai si stanca.”
“Trotta trotta cavallino,”
“Porta a spasso il mio bambino.”
Children’s nursery rhymes. No teacher would teach an adult Italian with nursery rhymes. This meant that she must have learned it since she was a child.
“Why are you lying to me, Bella?”
“I’m not lying. I don’t speak Italian.”
“What’s your name?”
“Mara.”
“Come ti chiami?”
“Mara.”
Something felt wrong. Nothing she said made sense. She was a fluent speaker and yet… He knew only one person who spoke like she did. Someone who had perfect grammar and vocabulary but refused to pronounced things correctly out of spite. “Sorella?”
“Figlio unico. (Only child).”
Was she playing a prank of him? Was he overthinking things? Was he missing his sister so much, he’d fooled himself into believing this girl was his sister? Wait, Amber had a birthmark over her right upper back. “Turn around.” He unzipped the back of her dress partway. It wasn’t there. He was wrong. He was just fooling himself. He was wrong. He sighed and zipped her dress back up. “I’ve lost the mood. I’ll bring you back to the President, bella.”
The girl just nodded quietly.
He led her out of his room and they headed back towards the ballroom. He paused at the lift. “Aissèra, Nanninè, me ne sagliette. Tu saie addò?”
“Tu saie addò?”
“Addò ‘stu core 'ngrato cchiù dispietto. Farme nun pò!
“Farme nun pò.”
He paused.
“Addò lo fuoco coce, ma si fuie. Te lassa sta! Te lassa sta!” She continued singing quietly.
The lift doors opened. Pavi stared at the buttons. He pressed the floor where the medical wards were. That song. He knew that the song was popular. He knew he was basing it on false hope but… How many times had he and Amber sang that song to annoy Luigi? He hated the song with a passion thanks to them. And so they refused to stop singing it. It…it may be false hope. But Pavi had to be sure.
The doors opened at the medical wards. He stepped out of the lift, guiding Amber -no it couldn’t be Amber- out. They walked a couple of steps when the lift dinged once more.
“Mr Largo.”
Fuck.
“You were taking awhile so I came to find you. Where are you going?”
Pavi froze. He couldn’t make an enemy out of the President. That would be foolish. Not over this small hunch that this girl could be his sister. He had to be sure first. “Mr President. The face was-a so perfect, the Pavi couldn’t-a bear risk damaging it. The Pavi will get the Surgeons to remove the face.”
“That wasn’t the deal, Mr Largo. I would appreciate if you return my property to me now.”
He was trying to stop him. He was worried. The hunch became more and more likely by the minute. “Mr President,” He pouted. “You promised you would give The Pavi her face.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Pet, come here.”
Pavi gripped the girl’s wrist. “No bella, stay with me.”
“Please, let me go. He’ll get angry.”
“Nothing gets in The Pavi’s way of getting a beautiful face.”
“I’m warning you Mr Largo, give me the girl.”
The lift dinged once more. Luigi walked out. “Where the hell have you been hiding?” Luigi growled. He froze when he saw the President. “Mr President.”
“Brotherrrrrrr….” Pavi whined. He hoped Luigi would pick up that something was wrong. “He won’t-a let The Paviche have the girl’s-a faceeeeeee.”
Luigi stared at him. He sent a begging look to his brother that he hoped he would pick up on.
“Come now, Mr President. Let’s leave the freak to his games. The others want to start a high stakes poker game and would be delighted if you would join.”
The President hesitated but couldn’t do anything without drawing suspicion. He relented. “Give her back once you’re done.”
“Of-a course, Mr President.” Pavi held the girl close to him. “The Pavi tried her out. The Pavi understands-a why you’re so attached.”
The President smirked and followed his brother into the lift.
Pavi’s smiled dropped. He grabbed the girl’s wrist once more and dragged her forward.
She didn’t fight him.
He entered Dr Smith’s office. “I need someone who won’t say anything and I can trust. Someone who won’t report back to the President. I need you to call the nurses outside to prepare for a face removal surgery. Then I need you to run a DNA test.”
“What’s going on, Mr Largo?”
“I don’t know. I hope I’m wrong. But…”
He glanced at the young girl and did what he was told.
Pavi paced. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. This couldn’t be… He looked at the girl sitting there staring at the ground. That couldn’t be his sister. How did the President get his hands on her? A sick feeling filled him. What if she hadn’t ran away? What if she was taken and a false note was planted? But they searched everywhere. They couldn’t find traces or hints of anything. Unless… He looked at the girl. They did the modification as soon as they took her. No one would recognize her.
Dr Smith approached the girl with a needle.
Obediently, she turned her neck for him to inject her.
“Your hand will do, dear.”
“That isn’t Z?” Pavi’s chest clenched.
“No.”
“But…I’ve been good. He said I could have Z if I was good.”
“I just need a bit of blood.” Dr Smith took the sample. “What do you want me to run it against?”
“Amber’s blood.”
Dr Smith froze. He looked down at the girl then back at him. “Mr Largo, I don’t think-”
“I know. I know it doesn’t make sense. I just have this feeling. Please. Just run the test. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong. I need to know.”
Dr Smith nodded.
“No one else finds out about the test.”
“I’ll run it myself.”
“Thank you.”
Pavi watched Dr Smith leave then sat opposite Amber – the girl. “How-a long have you been with the President for?”
“2 years.”
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Amber just did run away.
“You were-a scared when you said he’d get angry. Does he hurt you?”
“The master is giving me what I deserve.”
“And what exactly does he give you?”
The girl unzipped her dress. It dropped to the floor.
Pavi thought it was odd she would wear a floor-length, long sleeved ball gown. Now he understood. Bruises and burns decorated her body. Bones had been broken and healed back wrongly. On her stomach was a seared crest; the President’s crest.
“Do you remember your-a life, before meeting the President?”
“No.”
Dr Smith returned. He gave him a dark look. He passed him the file. Blood test 1 and 2: 100% match.
He would fucking kill him.
Pavi grabbed took out his knife. “Keep her here.” He headed to the lift. He saw red.
“Mr Largo!”
“Just stay with her.”
“You said President earlier. Are you insane? Are you going to kill the President?”
“He’s-a going to pay.”
“You go in there and stab him and his men will shoot you dead. I know you Largo’s think you’re invincible but he actually has more power than you.”
“I don’t care. I want him dead. He will pay for what he did to her. For what he tried to make me do.” Disgust and nausea filled Pavi.
“I didn’t say let him go.” Dr Smith held out a vial. “It’s untraceable and will mimic a heart attack.”
“He won’t suffer!”
“And you won’t get caught.”
Pavi paused for a moment. He took the vial and entered the lift. He wanted the bastard dead. He saw her broken face before him. He wanted him dead. He saw the way she just laid on the bed spreading her legs. He would kill him. He saw the bruises and broken bones on her body. He would make him die screaming.
The door opened and Pavi headed to where the others were playing poker. “Is-a there space for the Pavi?”
“Where is my pet?”
Rage filled Pavi. “She resting post-surgery. The Pavi promised he’ll give her back.”
“Get her here. I’ve been losing every hand.” He threw the cards on the table.
Pavi spotted The President’s drink on his left. It was too close to the other player. “Fratello, he’s-a hiding aces up his sleeve.” Pavi said pointing to the man to the right of Luigi.
“I’m not.”
Pavi watched Luigi shout at him. The others were distracted as well. Pavi slipped in the vial of poison.
Pavi headed to Luigi’s left, right between him and the President. He watched the President drink the whisky.
“Mr Largo, you really should try this blend of whisky. Valerio Adami. You’ll never find a blend like this again.”
Pavi’s eyes widened as The President held up the glass to his brother.
“The smell is certainly exquisite.”
“Now, Mr President. Are-a you really so-a cheap you won’t pour fratello his-a own glass?”
“Not cheap. Unfortunately, this is the last glass. You will never find this blend anywhere in the world again. It is the last of its kind.”
Luigi’s back was towards him. There was no way he could silently warn him. If he knocked the glass out of Luigi’s hands, he would lose the chance to kill the President. Not to mention cause suspicion.
Pavi sighed exaggeratedly. “But it’s almost like kissing each other. Maybe fratello has-a secret crush.”
“Pavi, shut the fuck up!”
The President rolled his eyes. “You’ve been unbelievably crude.”
“the Pavi is just-a satisfied with-a a good lay, no?”
“Ignore him. It’s how he’s like at home. He must have drank too much, he forgot that we have company.”
“But brotherrrrrrr….” Pavi whined. Why wasn’t his brother getting the hint? His brother must know something’s wrong right?
“Unfortunately Mr President, Pavi’s crude jokes aside, I have a thing with saliva and I would rather not share a glass.”
The President shrugged. “Your loss.”
“I’m sure it is.”
The others continued their game. Pavi just stood there; watching the game, eyes darting to the President. When?
The game ended and everyone excused themselves. Did Dr Smith lie? Did he trick him so he wouldn’t risk killing the President? He won’t let him go.
“Now, Mr Largo. Where is my…” His brow furrowed. He grabbed his chest as he gasped for air. “Help.” He fell to the ground, convulsing in pain. As his gasps became more drawn out and desperate; Pavi grinned at him. “Yo-” He gave a gasp and fell still. It was done. He was dead. It was finished.
The man who sexually assaulted me when I was 14 is now on tiktok positioning himself as a feminist and a women’s rights advocate. He stitches with popular feminist accounts and doesn’t really say much other than voicing his agreement.
I just watched one where the woman was talking about how it’s bullshit when society blames women by saying things like “they were asking for it” because of how they dressed etc, and he stitched that video to voice his agreement, but that’s literally one of the excuses he gave when he was explaining to people why what he did to me wasn’t rape. And that’s putting aside the fact that I was 14 and he was at least 21 or 22.
Part of me wants to believe that he’s grown as a person and he recognizes that what he did was wrong. It’s been 20 years. He could have changed. He could feel regret and remorse. He could be advocating in this way because of what he did to me.
But I don’t think I actually believe that. I can’t really bring myself to believe that. I think he’s still a manipulative, deceptive, selfish piece of shit person who is probably only on tiktok because it gives him access to young vulnerable people.
Part of me wants to make a new tiktok account and stitch his videos and call him out. But I’m not brave enough.
I told y’all the depp case was going to make times hard on abuse victims and people had the nerve to tell me I was blowing things out of proportion now look
Ask Marilyn Manson and Johnny Depp are friends let that sink in for you.
Also very important to mention that both amber heard and Evan Rachel wood are both bi women. You’re going to be seeing biphobia you’re going to see misogyny.
You’re going to see more people being ableist.
You’re going to hear and see things that involve abuse I’m warning y’all again try not to dismiss me this time around
I mentioned bisexuality because bi women face a greater risk of abuse and it NEEDS to be talked about more
Seeing all the aphobia and exclusionists whining on @space-trender page reminds me of all the things exclusionists have done.
30+ year old queer people talking about the history of the community and how ace and aro people have always played a role, just under different labels? Not even really “arguing”, just saying they’re wrong? They begin to complain about how “adults can’t talk to minors like this!”, accuse the adult queer people of being groomers, mass report them to get them kicked off of the site.
Studies showing the oppression asexual people face and how they also face corrective r-pe are brought up? Exclusionists scream “racism” because “corrective r-pe is a lesbian only term made by south african lesbians!”
Actual south african lesbians begin saying that it ISN’T a lesbian only term and that many in the lgbtq+ community face it? They ignore them because they never actually cared about racism.
Black trans people, the group that made the term “Cishet” to describe our COLLECTIVE oppressors, tell them to stop using the term “cishet” incorrectly because it doesn’t apply to ace or aro people? They tell us to shut up because, again, they don’t care about racism or defending people of color (in this case, black people).
It’s pointed out that they are literally just reusing anti-gay talking points, like accusing us of “going around telling people about our sex lives”, or“shoving our sex lives in people’s faces because we told them our orientation”.)?“Actually,you’re homophobic because this isn’t the same! How dare you compare US, the ~real~ LGBT/Queers, to those (slurs)/cishets!”
Also the whole doxxing people, outing people to their caregivers, sending graphic porn to ace minors, talking and laughing about their lies within their circles, etc. Etc.
They’re the major reason I still doubt people’s intellectual honesty and their intellectual laziness going into these “debates”. We had a massive masterpost absolutely loaded with documents proving the history and oppression, plus many of us were willing to post the breakdowns of the sources, but they decided that they weren’t going to even try and to this day they insist that their side is the one science and history agrees with.
Identical to truscum and “transmedicalists” (“medicalists” is a misnomer considering every major physical health, trans advocacy, and mental health organization and more explicitly disagree with them, hence why the quotations).
So, here’s the thing. Even if you did respond to the main blog of a side blog about kink by accident, you were still so far in the wrong it’s gross as fuck. You aren’t entitled any politeness when someone who was raped gets mad and yells at you about your bad timing. If you asked someone who was just raped on a date and describe their anger at you as “unattractive” instead of absolutely understandable, you’re trash.
Especially considering that empathy, a big thing for any dom to have, would have informed you that while you didn’t initially mean harm you still should have looked into if they were interested and, more importantly, realized why you come off as gross in the first place. You could’ve easily brought the whole situation to a close by apologizing and recognizing to them that you had no clue that you messaged them in such poor timing.
The extra grossness happens when you tell a fucking RAPE VICTIM that their attitude and anger from the shit they went through is somehow a “turn off” Oh, soooo sorry that being raped makes someone sexually unattractive lmao. Classy
In what universe do you think telling anyone who was raped that their anger at you, however misunderstood the situation was, was a turn off?? Anyone could see why she was grossed out from the timing of your message and instead of just shutting up and backing off with condolences, you try to explain how rape victims clearly shouldn’t be mad or angry at gross sounding situations and call them a turn off for being understandably on edge to the appearance of a predator harassing them and POST IT. Exposing her while she was vulnerable and literally calling it a turn off. It’s so insane that this is what you consider “tumblr drama” but also sadly unsurprising
Oh this is just rich. It’s more tumblr drama and bullshit. So I shall elaborate for anyone bored enough to read this.
I had no prior knowledge of her being raped. In which I said I am indeed sorry it happened. No one deserves to have that happen to them.
Secondly, when someone just goes off half-cocked and accuses you randomly of something you didnt even do, makes them seem quite silly. Like this person here. So yes. I did indeed say that I wasn’t going to waste my time on them. Absolutely so, if they are going to off like that without even bothering to check the sauce, it’s a sign to me that I don’t need to be involved. And I would do so to anyone else with no remorse or a second thought.
And a quick aside, the person whom I originally messaged does indeed have a kink blog. A separate blog from the one I messaged. So it’s not so cut and dry here. Hence I asked the question. Now I don’t know how much more polite I can get without going into some corny territory, but give me a fucking break here.
Hey, asshole! Even if you didn’t know I was RAPED, you should at least be SINCERELY apologetic about unknowingly hurting a RAPE VICTIM like that. You’re not one to victimize yourself when I justifyingly had a strong reaction to your disgusting comments. Which also takes me to another thing: you don’t just ask someone if you can be their dom. Despite your “7+ years of experience,” you don’t seem to stay true to that experience. You’re clearly a fake dom, especially if you’re making yourself out the be the victim. Learn to be a bit more sensitive. Doms are supposed to be caring and patient, aren’t they?
Oh, yeah! Not only this, but you act like me having a kink blog means it’s okay for you to ask to be my dom. That’s ridiculous. Dom/sub relationships don’t just come out of thin air like that, and it’s not okay to act like posting sexual things is an invitation.
Oh this is just rich. It’s more tumblr drama and bullshit. So I shall elaborate for anyone bored enough to read this.
I had no prior knowledge of her being raped. In which I said I am indeed sorry it happened. No one deserves to have that happen to them.
Secondly, when someone just goes off half-cocked and accuses you randomly of something you didnt even do, makes them seem quite silly. Like this person here. So yes. I did indeed say that I wasn’t going to waste my time on them. Absolutely so, if they are going to off like that without even bothering to check the sauce, it’s a sign to me that I don’t need to be involved. And I would do so to anyone else with no remorse or a second thought.
And a quick aside, the person whom I originally messaged does indeed have a kink blog. A separate blog from the one I messaged. So it’s not so cut and dry here. Hence I asked the question. Now I don’t know how much more polite I can get without going into some corny territory, but give me a fucking break here.
Hey, asshole! Even if you didn’t know I was RAPED, you should at least be SINCERELY apologetic about unknowingly hurting a RAPE VICTIM like that. You’re not one to victimize yourself when I justifyingly had a strong reaction to your disgusting comments. Which also takes me to another thing: you don’t just ask someone if you can be their dom. Despite your “7+ years of experience,” you don’t seem to stay true to that experience. You’re clearly a fake dom, especially if you’re making yourself out the be the victim. Learn to be a bit more sensitive. Doms are supposed to be caring and patient, aren’t they?
Welp, it happened. Casey Affleck won an Academy Award for Manchester By The Sea. The scruffy actor is a divisive figure in Hollywood. Clearly, he’s got talent. But sexual abuse allegations need to be taken seriously.
