Warning:

The following contains extremely mature themes such as rape, twincest, and abuse. It's rated "M" for a reason. Read at your own discretion.

You have been warned.

…damn.

This is the third shower I've taken, and I still feel dirty. I feel like shit, and I hate myself for it. No matter what I do, I can't get rid of this…this disease. Damn hormones. They really know how to fuck up my mind. This moodiness and paranoia shouldn't be anything more than a phase. I'll grow out of it, right?

Right.

Like when girls stop growing boobs. That's how I got into this mess in the first place.

It started out totally innocent, I swear – I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. About three years ago, I was running late for class – no, seriously, running – and decided to be an idiot and actually look in an opposite direction I was going when I heard someone call my name as I swept past them. Next thing I know, I'm toppling over some random chick with my face lodged in her rather large cleavage and suddenly my oxygen intake is severely limited. Even though she knew it was an accident and I kept apologizing like crazy, she still had the nerve to slap my cheek.

Bitch.

It's not like I've never seen breasts before. I'm a man, aren't I? I mean, I'm seventeen years old – that's pretty close to being a man. Surely I've seen at least one pair in my life. I took a health class and we had to study the reproductive organs on the male and female body; it was required. So, I guess that really wouldn't count as something to be proud of. Nevertheless, I did see them. They kinda looked like melons with some weird mini-stem sticking out. It was so gross. Having my first physical encounter besides the one I had to have as a baby and was required to be breast-fed (ew) be Boobzilla was pretty traumatizing. I almost drowned.

No women for me.

I remember ranting about it to my sweet, little brother, Roxy. He hates it when I call him that, and I just think it's so damn adorable. We're twins, but I'm the older one. I like to rub that fact in his face sometimes when he's being stubborn and not obeying my every whim. Calling him "Roxy" only belittles him even more, much to my satisfaction.

When I told him what happened, all he said was, "Be grateful; that's all the action you're ever gonna get."

Ouch. He's a pretty snarky little bastard. I love him, anyway.

Sometime after that incident, I just saw them everywhere I went: at school, on our way home, at the store, anywhere I could think of. Even flat-chested little Kairi – one of my best friends – seemed to have grown overnight. I felt dizzy and paranoid, always watching where I was going so I wouldn't have a repeat of that nightmare. Maybe if I stopped focusing on women, I could focus on something else.

Like men, for example.

At the time, I wasn't homosexual. I might not have even been bisexual. Maybe bicurious, at the most. Or maybe at that point in my life, I could've been considered "no-mosexual". Not really interested in either sex, for the obvious reasons. But there's nothing wrong with a little experimenting, is there?

Y'know, it's kinda funny. It was only after encountering Boobzilla that I started taking a fascination with the human body. I wanted to see exactly how different men and women were, what made them tick, what made them human.

Okay, I lied. I just wanted to see how on earth a girl's bust could get that big.

Did you know that breasts are basically just fat? That would explain why some men have them, too. Ew.

One time while my little brother was coming out of the bathroom after taking a shower, I took note that he didn't have boobs. Nipples, yes. But not girl boobs. I sighed with relief that Roxas was at least normal in one aspect.

He's so weird. He has this habit of twitching his fingers whenever he gets nervous, and I've heard him talking to himself before. They say that talking to yourself is a sign of intelligence. It's the way your brain processes information. Bullshit.

I think he's crazy.

He's a smart kid, but he barely passes his classes. By "smart", I mean "insanely super-duper-methodical-creepy-maniac smart". He can solve really complicated problems in nothing flat. He's just too lazy to actually apply himself.

I asked him if he could solve my problem. We were in his bedroom. I just casually walked in after going to the bathroom and announced, quite bluntly, that I had a problem. He was doodling some psycho morbid shit, I think.

"What problem would that be?"

"I think I'm gay."

"Ha ha. You're hilarious."

"No, seriously. Like, I'm afraid to be around women. No attraction whatsoever."

"That doesn't mean you're gay, Ven."

"Then how about this: I prefer to have physical contact with men than with women."

"What kind of physical contact?"

"Any."

"I think you're still a bit shaken up from Boobzilla." I told him about that name I had given that random chick I ran into after it happened. He laughed. It was great.

"Whatever. Love ya, babe."

"Get the hell out of here."

That was the end of that.

I didn't bring up the topic of my possible sexuality for a while. Maybe I was just a bit shaken up from Boobzilla, like he said.

The second time was just out of the blue while we were watching some sitcom on TV. We were alone, again. Our parents were working; they were always working.

"I've been thinking, and I've come to a conclusion."

"Huh?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm gay."

"Oh my go- Where did that come from?"

"It's been on my mind for a while. Just thought I'd let you know."

"And what makes you think you're gay?"

"I have absolutely no interest in girls."

"But are you interested in guys?"

"Not really."

"Then what are you interested in?"

"Your mom." Total sarcasm.

A couch pillow collided with my face. I laughed.

"You're a fucking dumbass."

"I know. But I'm your fucking dumbass."

Another hit to the face.

I was woken up out of nowhere at 1:35 one night when I felt a warm body weasel its way into my bed. Mom and Dad were asleep, completely worn out from work. They barely had enough energy to even say, "Hello," let alone get into a full-fledged conversation with us. I knew exactly who it was.

"Excuse me, but I think I was in the middle of something very fucking important, what was it again? Oh, yeah – sleep."

I remember whispering harshly. He whispered back softly, contradicting my tone.

"Shut up. I had another nightmare."

Roxas used to have nightmares. He'd been having them every night for two years, and it was the same one every time. I was sleeping the first time it happened, too. Just out of the blue, I heard screaming coming from his bedroom. My feet took me to his room without giving me any time to think – it was just instinct. When I swung the door open, he was thrashing about on his bed, screaming horribly. He looked like he was in pain.

Mom and Dad came scrambling in only ten seconds after I did. What took them so long?

I hurried to his bed and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him awake. His eyes opened wide, letting tears that I failed to notice fall down the sides of his face. The screaming was replaced with rapid, heavy breathing. He seemed a bit disoriented when he woke up but when he realized that he was just dreaming, he shot himself up and pulled me against him while he buried his face into my stomach. Mom and Dad kept trying to assure him that nothing was wrong, and occasionally they asked him what happened. He wouldn't tell them anything except that it felt so real, so painful. He was too afraid to say anything to anybody. He's thoroughly convinced that if it isn't a flashback of something that's happened already then it's a vision of something that will happen in the future.

In the three years since that dream first came nothing has happened to him, so he's calmed down a little.

But just a little.

The nightmares started around the time I got my first boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend and yes, first. The only things I remember about him are that his name was Demyx, our age difference made things technically illegal, he had my first kiss, and he sucked at making out. It didn't last very long, and if there was anything that I was able to get out of that relationship, it was that I knew at this point I was at least bi.

Plus, I was free to get together with Axel.

Axel was Roxas's best friend and Demyx's age, which again made things technically illegal. If that wasn't enough, it was always awkward to me whenever Axel came over to chill with Roxas (but it was really to be with me). The guy was totally hot and he was pretty cool, so I think that's what started my little crush on him. When I came out to him, he totally jumped on it – to be honest, it surprised me. My brother always had to see a therapist after school since he couldn't get rid of that recurring nightmare. That left me and Axel plenty of time to spend together. What would start out as us watching some lame episodes of Jersey Shore would end with Axel pinning me down onto my bed while practically molesting my mouth with his tongue. Roxas accidentally walked in on us one time.

That's how he found out his bff was maybe just a little bent.

He immediately left the first time, but after that he really didn't give a damn. He'd walk in, say whatever information he needed to give to either or both of us, then walk out totally unphased. Oddly enough, he would let us know whenever Mom or Dad was coming home within a certain time range so they wouldn't happen to find the two of us in the same way he did. I don't think I ever really thanked him for having our backs, or even bothered apologizing for ignoring him. Or for stealing away his best friend.

The two of us were together for about eight months, and I was sure I was in love. In that time, I learned three things about Axel:

One, he loved giving head as much as he loved getting it.

Two, he could do some crazy shit with his tongue.

We never had any sex. I wasn't emotionally ready for that; hell, I was scared out of my mind just at the thought of it. The dude was huge. Yet, somehow, he managed to talk me into giving him a b.j. It was pretty salty, and not necessarily something I enjoyed doing. When he sensed my reluctance, it didn't take him very long to turn the tables and take charge.

I didn't like getting them just as much as I didn't like giving them. Who wants someone's mouth on your private areas? I used to kiss that mouth. Gross.

The third thing I learned about Axel was that he was totally, absolutely, in love.

With Roxas.

It's pretty amazing what a certain boyfriend of yours can and will do to your younger brother when you leave for just two minutes to use the god-damned bathroom. I saw enough to understand that the feelings were one-sided; Roxas did fight back and he did say "no." Well, when he wasn't being shut up via mouth rape.

I grabbed his collar and, quite literally, tossed his ass out. Our relationship ended with the door slamming in his face. No words, no time for apologies, no pleading to be taken back. It was quick and almost painless, like ripping off a band-aid. He was not coming back into our house.

Looking back on it now, I've noticed things that I was too naïve to pick up on before. Axel was always the one to initiate our make-out sessions. Axel practically egged me on to, as he put it, "suck 'im dry." Axel was always most aggressive whenever Roxas was in the room right next door. I think he might have even moaned his name once or twice during our antics. He had everything in me that Roxas had: his face, his body, his voice. But he didn't have his heart.

So I guess that made me a way for his sick fantasies to come true; a replacement.

After the break-up, I told myself to not get involved in anymore commitments. No relationships for a while, man or woman. I really didn't think I could handle something like that again. So, I stopped seeing people. I even avoided conversation with our neighbors. They knew me well enough not to pry, so eventually they didn't even try talking to me unless they saw I was in a relatively good mood. Our neighbor across the street always assured me that things were going to get better. I wanted to believe him, but I just couldn't see how.

What exactly happened is still a blur to me. I know it was about two or three months after I kicked Axel out, and I was still moping about at my loss. I was hurt and I felt betrayed. He was my boyfriend, and I loved him, and he pretended I was my god-damn brother. Can you really blame me?

Roxas was still talking to his shrink and Mom and Dad weren't home. I got bored and I needed to let off some steam, so I left the house to go for a walk. I went to the park, played on the swings, skipped some stones on the man-made lake right in the middle of it, and let all of my cares free for once. Simple, right? Yup. Everything was going pretty fine and dandy, right up until some dick came up from behind me and pulled a cheesy-1950s-monochrome-movie move and covered my mouth with a damp cloth from behind. I tried to struggle, but I gradually began to lose my will to fight. My world went black.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in an unknown room. It was dark, and it smelled kind of funky, like sex. I would know what that smelled like because of Axel. I tried to sit up, but the second I did some intense pain went surging through my body. I remember crying out and falling back down. It could've been the aftereffects from whatever I was drugged witch or it could've been because I was distracted by pain, but it took me a few minutes to realize that I was laying face-down on a messy and damp bed without clothes on. It took me a few minutes longer to discover that the pain was coming from deep inside of my ass.

It took only half a second for me to put the pieces together.

My body shot itself straight up, which really wasn't a very good idea. Pain started to stab throughout my being and I had to stifle a scream, since I didn't know where exactly my assailant was. If he (or she, but I was pretty sure it was a he) realized that I was awake, there was no telling what he (or she) would do. I forced myself to endure it, at least for a little, until I could get the fuck out of there. My clothes were just tossed all over the floor; it was a pain in the ass to get them all – literally and figuratively speaking. Somehow, I managed to do it and by the time I did, some of the pain was gone. My body was really sticky from dried up blood and semen – I only knew what it was called thanks to health class – and I felt really, really gross.

I tip-toed out of the room and made my way down the hallway with my back against the wall. I was alert, always aware of my surroundings just in case they decided to come back for round 2. Another scent filled my nostrils once I was out of that sex-rank area. It kinda smelled familiar, though I didn't know why. It was still dark, all of the lights off, and that scared me. It was just like something out of a horror flick – the only thing missing was someone coming around the corner wearing a hockey mask and carrying a chain saw.

It was quiet, to the point where it only further scared me. I didn't think the guy was home. If that were the case, then it would've been easy enough to get out. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that my hopes were shattered before they even had a chance. As I was passing by a closed room, I heard water running. Taking careful attention to the noise level, I snuck past the (I assumed) bathroom with success. I was about three feet past the door when suddenly something broke through the silence.

JUST GONNA STAND THERE AND WATCH ME BURN

WELL THAT'S ALRIGHT BECAUSE I LIKE THE WAY IT HURTS

Someone decided that now was a good time to give me a call. And when I was so close, too. I froze upon hearing the loud music coming from the cell phone in my pocket. My mind went blank, and I was afraid to move.

JUST GONNA STAND THERE AND HEAR ME CRY

WELL THAT'S ALRIGHT BECAUSE I LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE

I heard the water shut off and the door open behind me, and I took off as best as I could before they could get to me. I never saw his face. I didn't know where I was, but somehow knew where I was going. I had to get out of there; I would've broken through a window if I had to. Just when I thought the universe hated me, it showed me a bit of grace when I found the front door. I unlocked it as fast as I could before springing outside and slamming the door behind me. I moved away from the house before I regained my thoughts, afraid that I would be dragged in again. I caught my breath, and noticed that the area was getting dark with the setting sun. It was my neighborhood.

Our house was right across the street from where I was standing.

I was so close to home, and it still happened.

I staggered hurriedly to my house, my arms wrapping around myself. I was almost across the street when I heard the door from the house I just left open. I heard footsteps chase after me. My pace increased until I reached the door. When I tried to turn the knob, I found to my horror that it was locked. My hand quickly reached into my pocket and I prayed to whatever entity that I had lost faith in so long ago that if they could prove themselves to me just this once I would relinquish whatever faith I had left and worship them. I found my key, and with shaky fingers I fumbled around with the lock until the door could be opened.

I never knew exactly how close Ansem Wise was before I managed to make it in. I locked myself in the house just in time, I know that much. The door was pounded on for a moment or so, but I didn't answer. My hand reached into my pocket again to check my phone to see who called.

Roxas.

Damn idiot…

When I was able to convince myself that I was safe, my feet dragged me down the hall to our bathroom, my phone slipping out of my fingers at some point in the hall. I stumbled into the bathtub, turning on the faucet. The water was really cold. My clothes were still on. I didn't care.

I felt dirty.

I remember just laying there in our sea-foam green, tacky island-themed bathroom, like a vegetable, while the water filled up and eventually overflowed out of the tub. My mind was scrambling around, trying to organize itself and force composure to be maintained. I still don't remember whether or not I tried fighting back throughout the ordeal, or if I was too drugged up to be able to do that or maybe even care. Did I give up? Did I say "no?" Did I try to fight back? It doesn't matter what I did.

It happened.

Some of the blood and semen washed off of my body and mixed in the water, turning it a very slight shade of pink. I slumped a little into it, finding it hard to keep my eyelids open. I further sunk into the tainted water, letting the coldness take over my body. I closed my eyes, inhaled slowly, then exhaled as I let it consume the rest of me. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I wanted to forget that it happened. I wanted to ignore what emotional scars were beginning to form because it happened. I was disgusting.

I used to trust that man as a kid. He would invite me and Roxas to come over and play ball in his large backyard. He would always have some of our favorite cookies ready for us. Our biological father was always working a really crappy job in order to keep the house. The fact that Mom was never around because of work didn't exactly help, either. In a sense, he was kind of like the father we never really had. We were like the sons that he always wanted but never got the chance to have.

So, why did he do this to me?

I don't understand it at all. He was never anything like this when we were younger. He was so kind, so friendly; he really loved us. We occasionally visited to give him company since he wasn't married, and he welcomed it with a smile. Now that I think about it, he seemed to treat me better than he treated Roxas; he would give me that extra cookie, tossle my hair a few seconds longer than he tossled Roxas's, spend more time having conversation with me while Roxas was fiddling with some broken clock or gizmo in an attempt to fix it, and for whatever reason I didn't know, he would say, "I love you, kiddo" to me. Never to Roxas.

Was he always that twisted man I encountered today? Or did that grow as I grew as well?

Somebody suddenly lifted my upper body out of the water, shouting my name. I opened my eyes and gulped up the oxygen my lungs so desperately needed. They were on the verge of imploding inside of my ribcage. Gasping like a fish, my chest heaving, I tried to remember where I was. Seeing a face identical to mine hovering above me reminded me that I was okay. Water dripped from my bangs, my hair clinging to my forehead and the sides of my face. I shivered a little from the cold water and watched as my brother turned off the faucet and unplugged the drain. He grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eye.

"Ven, what…what happened?" I turned away.

He already knew. Those voices in his head probably told him. They tell him everything.

"I came back from Dr. Even's office but nobody was home. I tried calling, and when you didn't answer, I got worried and went out looking for you."

I briefly glanced at him, remembering how my phone going off almost took away my chance to escape. Then I looked away from him to stare in front of me. I needed to stay strong. I didn't want to cry. I refused to break.

"…what happened?"

I didn't respond.

"Why is the water pink? Did someone hurt you?"

My eyes traveled down. The tub was almost completely empty and with the last of the water draining, the blood was more apparent. What was a light pink had turned crimson.

"Oh my god, Ven…please. What happened?"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. My throat wouldn't let me.

"Ven…"

A hand rested on my spine. Gentle and kind as it was, it unleashed what I'd been trying to hold back.

Upon his touch, I broke through the barrier in my throat and screamed. My body shook violently and my eyes stung with tears. My brother called me and tried to calm me down, but I wouldn't listen. My nails dug into my temple and my throat was beginning to grow raw. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me into his chest. I only clawed at the back of his shirt and screamed more. I didn't tell him what happened. He didn't ask any more questions.

We moved to another neighborhood not long after that, though it was only because we could finally afford to live in a bigger house. Our neighbors came to see us off the day we left. Even Ansem Wise showed up. He smiled at me as though nothing was wrong and asked our parents to keep in touch. It sent chills through my spine. They didn't know. That's why they were so friendly with him.

As we were driving away, I looked out my window to see him standing there, smiling and waving good-bye from his porch. I didn't smile or wave back. I just stared with a blank look on my face. I remember how dead I felt inside. And when my hand reached for something, it found Roxas's. I held it tightly, and he held it tightly. We both knew that I wasn't going to be the way I was before.

I understand that most rape victims don't.

That was a year ago. Things have changed. Our house is bigger and we live in a much nicer neighborhood. We have a second floor and a basement. Dad got promoted. Mom quit her job and stays home. We go to a different school. Roxas hasn't had any nightmares in over a year.

But I do.

Every night.

Even though my bedroom is on the second floor, I'm afraid to look outside my window because I believe he'll be standing there, watching me sleep. Every time the doorbell rings, or the phone rings, or we get a letter in the mail, I'm afraid it's him trying to get in contact with me. I'll hear footsteps following me, even though nobody else is there. I've heard that rape victims are more likely to get raped again, and usually it's by the same person. But then I remind myself: he doesn't know anything. Not our address, not our new phone number, not even what school Roxas and I were transferred to. I was safe.

It still didn't make the nightmares go away.

Right now, I'm lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling painted with yellows and reds from the sunset's light leaking in through the curtains aligned on my window. Something inside of me has been growing for the past year, though I can't quite figure out what it is. It's taken over my thoughts so much, I haven't even changed out of the towel I put on after getting out of the third shower I've taken today.

I've slowly begun to realize just how weak I've become. I don't eat as much as I used to, let alone as much as I should. I've lost a lot of weight because I just never seem to be hungry. I don't talk to my friends at our old school; hell, at our new school, I don't even have any friends. I can't bring myself to make any. Just watch: the second they have my trust, they'll use it and find ways to hurt me. I don't see why not; I mean, it's happened before.

Even Roxas has made friends. People love his sarcastic personality and everything-to-hell-this-is-my-life-so-I'll-live-it-my-way attitude. I've been told that a few girls even have their eyes on him. This is so messed up. It's like our lives were completely flip-flopped. He used to be so shut-in and sick in the head, but now he's actually kind of normal. I used to be strong and happy, but now I'm at the bottom of the barrel of my sanity.

I'm afraid to close my eyes. If I close my eyes, I'll fall asleep. If I fall asleep, I'll have another nightmare. And I know who's waiting for me in that nightmare. Even though he's so far away, he won't leave me alone. I've woken up screaming before. Roxas was there to hold me. Just like how I was always there to hold him.

My god, our lives really have flip-flopped.

I sigh and try to get my mind off of things. It's been a long time, Ven. He can't get you now. You're right. I'm okay.

Great. Now I'm talking to myself.

"Your father and I are leaving now, Ventus. There's money for pizza downstairs in case you two get hungry."

"Okay, Mom."

I don't make eye contact with her. Her footsteps approach my bed, and her hand run through my hair.

"Are you going to be alright? Your father and I are worried about you. We don't have to go if it'd make you feel better."

I still haven't told them why I've changed so much. They can't know. If they did, what would happen? I look up at my mom, and smile reassuringly.

"I'll be alright. I have Roxas with me. You two go and enjoy your anniversary."

"Well…alright." She stands up and turns to leave.

"Get dressed. You might catch a cold with your hair wet like that."

"Okay, Mom."

She leaves without another word. I listen to some chatter downstairs: Mom and Dad are talking to Roxas about emergency numbers and things we're not allowed to do. Typical parent stuff.

It's their eighteenth-year anniversary, so they're going out for a rather romantic evening with dinner, a movie, and something else they wouldn't tell us. I could probably figure it out, anyway. Humans are disgusting. What kind of pleasure could they possibly get from something like sex?

I don't see it.

The comfort of my bed takes over. I fight to keep my eyelids open, knowing full well what's lying in wait for me. But these nightmares have kept me up at night, and I've been having a hard time staying awake. Maybe just a quick nap couldn't hurt. Or maybe I'm being lured into a false sense of security yet again.

Either way, I find myself in a world of darkness.

The pain eventually returns.

He's over me, watching.

I scream.

I try to fight back.

His grip on me isn't as strong as it usually is. Maybe this time, I have a chance.

"Ven, it's okay! I'm here!"

Lies. What damnable lies.

I manage to break out of his grasp, and I kick him back. I pin him down by the wrists, glaring at that disgusting face of his. He looks terrified. Some sort of satisfaction rises inside me. I'm done being weak.

Even if it's in my head, for once I'm the one in control.

"You're a sick piece of shit, you know that?"

I can practically smell the fear he has. He knows what's coming to him. Karma's a bitch, isn't it?

"W-What are you talking abo– "

"Shut up!"

My fist collides with his stomach. It's softer than I thought it would be. He lets out a pained grunt.

"Look at what you've done to me, you fucking bastard!"

I take both of his wrists in one hand and hold them down above his head. He squirms in my grasp, trying to escape. But I'm stronger than he is, and so I manage to keep him there. It's weird – I don't think I would've normally been able to do something like this. It's probably because this is only a dream. But it's my opportunity for revenge, and I'm willing to take it.

I'm sick. This bastard gave me whatever disease he's had. He's insane. I'm insane. He's made me become insane. He must have taken some sort of pleasure in tearing me up inside the way he did. I want to inflict the same kind of pain upon him, just to show him what it's like. This is the only way for him to get the god-damned message.

Even though it's just something I've made up inside my mind to cope.

Damn it, I'm such a mess.

My other hand lifts up his shirt. The spot I punched is a bit red and will probably form a bruise. Good. He deserves it. That same hand starts to bring down his pants, and once he realizes where I'm headed, he starts thrashing about, begging me to stop. I straddle his legs, keeping them down with as much force as I can. His pants are pulled off below me, followed by his boxers. He has an interesting taste in boxers; they don't look like something an old, sick fuck like him would wear.

Then again, maybe that's how he gets his kicks.

As big of a man he is, his dick is pretty small. I chuckle at the sight. There's no way something that small could've done that much damage. Maybe I just see it this way because of my opinion that he's a dickless, sick prick.

He looks up at me with pleading eyes, knowing that words alone won't get through to me.

I don't fall for it.

I strip myself of the towel I never bothered to change out of. Maybe it was destiny I fell asleep in nothing but a towel. It would make this a lot easier to do.

He doesn't stop and drool like he probably did the last time he saw my naked body. Instead, he starts begging and pleading even more for me to let him go. I ignore him, using all of my strength to keep him down where I want him. I've been holding it in for this long, and now, it's time to let it out. Whatever it is that he gave me, I have to give it back. It's the only way for me to be free from this curse.

Without warning and without preparation, I force myself into him. It's tight, and hot. He screams out in pain. I revel in it.

"Take it back," I breathe out.

He stares up at me through tears that begin to flood his eyes. His breathing is shaky.

"…w-…what?"

"Take it back!"

I ram my pelvis into his, hitting something that makes him scream again. I can feel a bit of blood from whatever skin I've stretched surround me, acting as some sort of disgusting lubricant. I think he whimpers a little. I draw back to the point where I'm almost completely out. I inhale deeply, my lust for vengeance fueling the fire in my heart.

I thrust back into him without giving him time to beg. I hit something spongy inside him, and whatever it is, it sends his body shaking violently below me. He screams again.

"Fuck!" I hiss, gritting my teeth together.

This repeats a few more times, and each time he screams even louder.

Is this how he treated me back then? I still don't know if I was even conscious at all during that time, but if I ever did plea and beg, did he listen?

Another hit against that spongy bundle. He writhes below me, sobbing. I punch him in the gut to get him to shut the hell up. I didn't get a chance to ask for mercy. Why should he?

"V-Ven…please…!" he chokes despite having the wind knocked out of him.

"Shut up!"

I hit him again. He cries out.

"Shut up! Shut up!"

One hand digs my nails into his wrists; the other hand presses against his jugular.

"You're not here! You're not real! So just shut up!"

I can't help screaming. I've held it in for way too long. And now, it's payback time. It feels so good, so real.

If only it were really happening.

"You sick fuck!" I shout, my closed fist pounding into his chest. He sputters out a cough.

"You like that, bitch? You like it when someone is fucking you up the ass? Because I sure as hell didn't!"

"Ven! Please!"

"Shut the fuck up, you damn bastard!"

"Wake up!"

I blink once.

I freeze. The Ansem Wise I thought I had in my grasp vanishes. He's not the one below me, getting tortured the same way I was.

It's Roxas.

He stares up at me with wide, glassy, blood-shot, dead eyes, tears streaming down the sides of his face. His breathing is heavy, shaky, and his bangs are clinging to his forehead, damp with sweat. My hand shakily and hesitantly moves away from his throat, allowing me to see the hand-shaped bruise forming upon his neck.

My eyes slowly move down his body. There are purple spots all over his stomach and what parts of his chest that aren't covered by his shirt. His skin is painted with what little semen he released involuntarily. The metallic smell of blood, mixed with sweat and sex, finally reaches my sense of smell. I glance down, knowing what I'll see but almost too scared to admit it. Panting heavily, I take it all in. I quickly pull out, grunting in the process. He chokes back a cry and whimpers a bit.

…oh my God, what have I done?

My hand releases his wrists and he immediately brings them down to his chest. His body shakes a little as he starts crying some more, shutting his eyes tightly. I try to process what exactly happened. I was just dreaming a second ago…Ansem Wise was here, and I was fighting back.

Wasn't I?

"R…Roxas?" I whisper nervously. He only continues to sob.

My eyes are beginning to burn from holding back tears. I just hurt my little brother, and just as it seems like his life is getting in order. I'm a fucking monster…

"…Roxas?" A hand reaches out to wipe some tears away. The second my hand makes contact with his face, so does his fist.

With my face.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" he screams.

I fall backwards a little with the force of that punch. A hand raises to rub my jaw. While I'm focused on rubbing the well-deserved pain in my face, I hear him cry out. He just tried to sit up after that? Idiot!

"AGH!" His body falls back onto the bed.

"Roxas! Please, don't mo– "

He kicks me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. Shaking arms support him up, and he winces and stifles cries of pain as he manages to sit up. In his efforts to get off of the bed, he only stumbles onto the floor. Another cry escapes his lips. His body just lays limp there, one leg hoisted up onto the soiled sheets on my mattress. His sobs are muffled by my wooden floor.

"Roxas…" I hop off of the bed as best as I can and crawl beside him. When he doesn't answer, my arms wrap around him and pull him against me even as he starts struggling.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he shouts, punching my forearms a little. I don't give in.

"Roxas, please…" I whisper calmly as my eyes begin to release the tears I've tried holding back. I bury my face in his back.

"I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry…"

"You're the sick fuck! Go away! Leave me alone, you bitch!"

His words contain an acid that is slowly beginning to die. He loses his will to fight, and eventually he just slumps against me bawling his eyes out. I shut my eyes and tighten my grip on his violated body.

"I'm so sorry…I'm sorry…"

"This…" he inhales shakily after a moment. "…this is exactly…what I thought would happen…"

My eyelids blink open. I don't move.

"…wh…what?"

"I knew this would happen…I've always known…" he whispers through his tears.

"…what are you talking about…Roxas?" I'm getting worried. I don't like the sound of this.

"Remember…? …when I would wake up to find you there…? You were always there…when it happened…" he starts to calm down a little.

I was always there…when what happened?

Then it clicks.

"…oh my God…you mean…"

"They finally stopped after it happened to you…So I thought that's what they were warning me about…about what was going to happen…to you…"

Holy shit.

"…'they'?"

"Yeah…"

He inhales.

"…those dreams."

That's why he kept screaming. He used to be just the way I am now: afraid to be around others, having nightmares, not eating properly. Was it because of those dreams? It makes sense now.

"…oh my God…Roxas…I'm so sorry…"

"…I know."

I freeze.

"…can you take me to the bathroom? I'm all sticky…"

That's what he says. But translated, it means, "Take me to the bathroom. I don't want to be near you."

I'm sure.

"…yeah."

I carefully pick him up with me as I get onto my feet, and I drag him to our bathroom with one arm around his waist, supporting him against me with one of his arms over my shoulder. I gingerly set him down into the tub and turn on the faucet, allowing warm water to fill it up. I turn it off when it reaches a certain level.

"…do you mind?"

"What?"

"I'm taking a bath…"

"I'm not leaving you like this."

If he really is the same as me, then…he might try to kill himself…just like I did after it happened.

I watch the water turn pink with blood and semen. He stares off into space. When he starts to slump down a little, I manage to hold him up. It's all the same as me. Realization suddenly hits.

This insane disease I've contracted can't be cured.

It can only spread.

I pray that Roxas doesn't make the same mistake I've made.

We don't tell our parents. They shouldn't know. It'd be too horrible for them. We've brought ourselves into this, and so the burden is ours to bear.

Rather…it's mine to bear. Roxas was just forced into it.

I apologize to him every time our parents aren't around, which is often. He keeps saying that he forgives me, but I don't believe him. How can he forgive someone who had violated him in such a horrible way? I should know what that's like.

I was once the victim; now I'm the culprit.

I can't sort out what my thoughts. I've asked Mom and Dad if I, too, could talk to Dr. Even. I think I've caught what Roxas used to have. That makes us even, then, huh?

Roxas can never have a sin that matches mine. We'll never be even. I don't deserve help. I don't deserve to be cured. Everything is my fault. I was running in the hallway that day. I decided to stray from God's word and look at a different sex. I chose Axel. I went off alone. I got myself into that situation. I didn't reach out to anybody. I took it out on my own flesh and blood. And now, I've sworn him to secrecy. I don't deserve to be saved.

I deserve to have everyone watch me burn in Hell.

That's what those voices tell me.

Author's Note:

Blagh. Short ending is blagh. But, I like the suspense in it, sooooo….I'm keeping it. ^^

I understand that this is a rather delicate subject to touch on. I've never been raped myself, so I really don't know if this is how victims act. I know that they do get psychologically messed up and I did do my research of some things that victims do. While researching sibling abuse, one of the causes is that the abuser was sexually harassed and is taking it out on the victim. I've changed the events to what happens about four or five times, so hopefully you're all satisfied with this one. ^^

It took me four days to write this. It's the longest chapter I've ever written, and I did try to get into Ven's shoes and imagine what being him in this situation would be like. It didn't hurt that I had the power of Higurashi at my fingertips. ^^

I hope you all enjoyed this one-shot, because I know I enjoyed writing it. Please don't think ill of me, though I do think I am a sadist. Hehehehehehe.

Please review and have a nice day! Beware the Ansem in your neighborhood! :D

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts does not belong to me, neither does "I Love the Way You Lie". They belong to their owners and I am in no way attempting to profit off of this.