A/N: Story in complete Rewrite!

Chapter One

A Phone Call in the Night

It was raining that night, and the nine year old boy was walking with his mother, his precious and loving mother. He almost slipped a couple times, and she caught him, laughing out loud at his clumsiness. They were so happy, even in the pouring rain. Then there was someone there, as the lightning cracked the sky open, and he was demanding money. The mother didn't have anything, but the man insisted. So the boy, who wanted to protect his dear mother tried to stop the man with the gun. He was young, only twelve, but he was strong. But then, in the rain, a sound unlike the thunder cracked and he froze as he looked around, his hand gripping the gunman's hands tightly. It had gone off in the struggle and his mother was looking at him with wide, shocked eyes.

The gunman got to his feet and was gone. The boy dropped down to his knees as his mother slowly fell. He caught her in his arms as she gasped for air, blood soaking the boy's clothes. She whispered something, but he didn't hear her because the thunder was too loud.

Ichigo Kurosaki jolted awake in the bathtub, having fallen asleep long enough for the usual dream to visit him. Any time he was in pain or sad, it visited him to remind him why he was in pain and why he was so very sad. He groaned quietly, because the dream left his heart aching for so long afterward that he almost forgot his physical pain. It had been years ago, and still, it haunted him. He cradled his throbbing head as he breathed deeply. He swallowed carefully and winced, his throat raw still. He looked down, seeing the deep bruises on his thighs again. He sighed. It had been his fault, it usually was after all. He should have been more careful, but the plates had fell from the counter with a resounding crash, and then his boyfriend was on him, yanking him away as he stammered apologies.

It had ended like most nights. Ichigo was sitting in the tub, nursing new bruises and ignoring the blood in the bathwater. He hugged his knees and wondered what it would be like to just slide below and suck that blood tainted water into his lungs and happily die. No one would miss him, he was sure. But he was weak, and instead let the water go down the drain and got out of the tub, hoping that his bedmate was already asleep. He'd had enough for tonight. He looked in the mirror at his damp orange hair and thought he deserved what had happened. He deserved so much worse.

He quickly threw on a big shirt and light pants and limped out of the bathroom, his body screaming after sitting too long in the tub.

"What took you so long?" the gruff voice demanded from the darkness.

Ichigo swallowed convulsively, and looked up, seeing him sitting on the bed staring at him. The room smelled of "I-I w-was…" he started.

He was so fast though, and soon Ichigo found himself slammed up against the wall gasping for air at the pale hand clamped around his neck. He reached out weakly to try and pull the hand away. He was being held up, and it hurt a lot. Aaroniero was tall, at least five inches taller than Ichigo, but he was deceptively thin man. He gazed at Ichigo with the bleary, muddy colored blue eyes that seemed to plague Ichigo's nightmares more often than not. He tried to avoid his breath and just the horrible smell that came off him most the time.

"Ronny, please, it hurts," he croaked against the hand holding him up.

Aaroniero, or Ronny as most people called him, smelled of the crystal meth he'd been smoking. The whole room stank of it, a mix of ammonia and burning plastic, and that was a really bad thing for Ichigo. It was iodine cut, he could tell by the strong scent. That meant Ronny had gotten a nasty batch. When he was high on that type, he was stronger and more aggressive. Suddenly, the claw like hand let go and Ichigo fell with a groan as his body ached. Ronny ran a hair through his stringy, black hair and he shook his head.

"What did I say about talking like that to me?" he said slowly.

Ichigo didn't know what to say, didn't know what he'd done, so his pain misted eyes let loose a couple tears to slide down his face. He gasped, reaching to wipe them away, but it was too late. The pale hand connected with his face, sending him flying to the side with unnatural force.

"I told you if you cried again, I would make sure you had a good reason," Ronny said, moving over to him and grabbing him by the bicep and yanking him to the bed.

"No, please, Ronny, not again, please!" he said, clenching his jaw at the pain blossoming there. He never hit him in the face. Never anywhere that could be seen. And now that he had broken that rule, Ichigo was truly scared.

He tried to crawl away, but it was impossible as the larger man pressed him down into the bed, yanking his sleeping pants off him. He gasped at the sudden exposure, but didn't have time to register it before burning hot pain consumed him from behind. He gritted his teeth, knowing better than to cry out, but he couldn't help the soft cry that escaped his lips. He only became rougher and faster and Ichigo was sobbing into the thick comforter underneath his head. Finally, he dropped him, yanking him around and shoving himself down Ichigo's throat, sending a searing pain through him as he emptied himself there. He knew better than to cough, better than to spit. It only got worse if he did. Ronny shoved him onto his back again, staring at him for a moment, and he smiled again.

Then Ichigo felt the crunching of bone as Ronny began to punch into his ribs viciously. He tried not to cry out, but it hurt, and every time he cried out, Ronny slammed his fist into his ribcage even harder. He was incensed, completely without reason, Ichigo knew. He had no idea what he was doing and it didn't matter. Ichigo could only bear it but it was harder and harder until finally he stopped. He stood up and stared down at Ichigo with those muddy colored eyes and Ichigo was really and truly afraid of what he was going to do.

Ronny stared for a minute, a strange smile crossing his face as he pushed down with one hand on Ichigo's throat.

"Your eyes are the prettiest prize I've ever gotten, baby," he said softly in complete contrast to the fact he was cutting off Ichigo's airway. "Remember that the only reason they're still in that fucking obnoxiously colored head of yours is because I allow it. Or do you want me to put them on display with the rest?"

Ichigo couldn't breathe to say anything as he leaned forward and pressed his nose against Ichigo's. "So, so pretty, baby. Beautiful and rich and the darkest chocolate ever…" he whispered and grinned again. Ichigo knew what he was going to do and knew that he couldn't stop him from doing it.

Aaroniero had a fetish, a really unhealthy fetish, for eyes. In particular, he had a nice little "collection" of eyes. The only real problem about his little collection was the fact that he'd taken them himself, from still living victims. Those victims, of course, were no longer living, however. He had fallen in love with Ichigo's eyes, so much so that he wanted him whole. He wanted to see them change and function. He wanted his eyes in his head. He never failed to let him know that that could change at a moment's notice. He also never failed to let him know that his sisters both had very lovely eyes as well.

The hand on his neck let go and instead both hands were on his eye socket prying his lid open. He hated it when he did this, but it usually happened when he was this high. He grinned again and leaned toward his eye and pressed his tongue against the surface. Ichigo knew better than to move. Granted at the moment he was in so much pain moving wasn't an option. He'd already suffered a scratched cornea three times and two incredibly bad infections because he flinched or angered him. He tried to breathe through it. He could feel the edges of his tongue against his eyelids, sliding against the smooth surface of his eye. It was by far, the most disgusting and degrading thing Ronny ever did to him. Considering the other things Ronny did, that was saying something.

He jerked back, letting go of Ichigo's eyelids finally. Ichigo laid there and blinked rapidly and then Ronny grinned again, his fetid breath strong. "You need to be punished for being such a naughty bad, bad boy. I'm done with you today. If you're lucky, I'll bring you back home before tonight."

Then Ronny grabbed Ichigo by the wrist and threw him out their apartment's front door, locking it behind him. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Ichigo had used the excuse that he had lost his key and the manager had come opened it the next day after he had slept in the pool room. But that was closed, and he was in a lot of pain right now. He could hardly breathe. He was glad his shirt was long, actually one of Ronny's shirts. He managed to get to the payphone at the end of the hall and picked it up. He had no change, so he called the operator for a collect call.

It was almost four am, so he wasn't sure if his friend would even answer. But a sleepy voice answered the phone, and Ichigo sighed in relief. The operator said there was a payphone collect call for him and if he would accept the charges for Ichigo.

"Of course!" the voice on the other end said, his voice sounding less sleepy all of a sudden, tinged with worry.

There was a long pause as the operator left the conversation and Ichigo tried to breathe enough to speak.

"Ichigo?" queried the voice. "Are you there, bud?"

"Yah," he breathed the word out, not trusting that he could get anything else out.

"What's going on?" the voice asked again.

He panted, finding it excruciatingly hard to form words into coherent thoughts. "R-Renji, need…ah…help…hurt…" he managed finally gasping heavily as he felt himself sliding down the wall to the ground, the phone clutched desperately in his hand.

"What's happened? Are you at your apartment?" Renji asked, quickly.

"Yah," he breathed, groaning as he finally dropped the phone.

He was lost in a haze of pain as he sat there, clutching his ribs, not even aware if anyone walked by to see him struggling to breath in the hallway half naked. He heard someone and he looked up to see Renji kneeling in front of him. He smiled, then gasped, his breath coming in short, hard pants. There was someone there with Renji, someone he didn't know.

"My God, Ichi, what the hell happened to you?" Renji gasped.

He breathed in and out, finding it hard to do anything else at the moment. "I messed up," he finally said. "My fault, should have…ah…known," he said and slumped down, falling to the side, leaving nothing to the imagination as the shirt slid up on him.

Renji frowned, seeing the thick trails of blood on the inside of his thighs, and the huge purple bruises on his legs, and all down them to his calves, other bruises of varying colors. He'd never seen his legs; he always wore pants. Come to think of it, he always wore long sleeves, claiming he had a thyroid condition that made him cold all the time. Ignoring his nakedness, he picked up the shirt and gasped at the mass of purple and red bruises on his ribs. He put his head to his chest.

"Shit, I think he's got a ruptured lung," he muttered, looking up at his friend with the teal hair. "Help me, Grimm, we gotta get him to a hospital."

Renji carefully gathered him up and nearly ran with the smaller man. They rushed him into the ER and he was swiftly taken away by the staff to see what was wrong with him. Renji sat down in a couch, staring into space until he felt Grimmjow's hand fall to his shoulder.

"Red, what the hell is this about? Isn't that the kid you met at your job?" he said.

Renji nodded. "Yeah, I've known him a while. As long as I've been there, but I've never had him meet me outside of the hotel. When we're slow, we talk, and the day passes a lot faster."

Renji worked at a high class hotel as a doorman. Ichigo worked behind the counter during the week days. He'd grown rather fond of the orange haired kid. He was in college, taking night classes so he could work during the day. Renji had thought it odd for a kid that was barely eighteen to take night classes and work full time. Renji knew where he lived because often gave him rides to work, but today was the first time he'd actually been in the building.

Finally a strange looking doctor walked out and shook Renji's hand. "You brought in your friend, Ichigo?" he asked softly. He had pink hair of all things. But then considering that he was standing next to the blue haired Grimmjow, and he himself had vivid red hair, he couldn't say anything.

"How is he? Can I see him?" he asked in a rush.

The pink haired doctor nodded. "All in good time, I have some questions first. My name is Dr. Szayel Granz. Now, are you Ichigo's significant other?"

Renji started. "What? No, of course not!"

The man noted something. "Why were you the one to bring him into the ER this morning?"

"He called me from the payphone at his complex. And he sounded hurt so I rushed over and found him like that sitting in the hallway," Renji answered, slowing his breathing. Standard questions for someone that looked like they had been used as a punching bag.

"Hmm, do you know who Ichigo's domestic partner is?" he asked.

Renji stopped. "Ah, no. He's never talked about it with me, just changes the subject when we talk about dating or relationships."

The man sighed. "Ichigo says he was mugged, that someone jumped him and took his wallet and phone."

Renji nodded slowly. "But, that doesn't sound right, if he was mugged why didn't he go home? He was in the hallway outside his apartment."

The doctor arched a delicate pink brow. "He has signs of long term abuse. This is not his first broken bone, and from the look, he has several that were casted poorly and healed badly. He has bruises and scarring that cover him everywhere except his neck, face, forearms and hands. The bruise on his face is a striking exception to that."

The thoughts took a long moment to process. "So, he's being abused? By who?"

Szayel sighed. "Generally, this type comes from domestic partners or spouses. There are obvious signs of sexual trauma, some very recent and a lot older. Whoever this kid is with is bad news, and he is refusing to say anything to me about it. All he says is that he was mugged. I have already put in the paperwork with the police, and I suggest that you take him with you when he is discharged if he will allow it. I would prefer him not to return to such an environment."

Renji swallowed. Who would hurt him like that? He was such a nice kid, always smiling and helping people, and never said a cross word. "He's barely twenty years old, how long could he have possibly been going through this?"

The doctor thought. "I don't know, but some of the breaks are at least two or three years old. Unless he wants to tell us what happened, there's nothing we can do."

"How is he now?"

"He has three fractured ribs, one of which punctured his lung. We'll have to take him in to surgery to fix the problem and hopefully he'll be released in a week's time. He'll be going into surgery in a couple hours. He's been given a sedative for now, and I'd like him to rest."

The doctor turned and left, leaving Renji and Grimmjow gaping. Grimmjow looked at him.

"He's been working there with you for the last two years, man, how did you not notice this shit?" he asked, eyeing his red headed roommate.

Renji shook his head. "He hides it well. Like he said, this is the first time I've ever seen a bruise on his face. I mean, he's a weird kid, wears long-sleeves and pants all year round, but I just thought it was his preference. Come to think of it, he's never come out with us, no matter how many times we invite him…"

Grimmjow suddenly elbowed him in the ribs. "What?" he said, looking up.

Entering Ichigo's room was a tall, thin man with very hollow features and greasy black hair. He just looked ill, almost. Ichigo had been left in one of the glass front rooms, and both Renji and Grimmjow moved closer until they could hear soft voices inside.

"Why the fuck are you in here?" the thin, pale skinned man asked. "I got a call from the receptionist saying you'd been brought in. I told you that I was done with you for the day, and I had to get out of bed and come up here to sign for some stupid shit."

Ichigo gasped. "You broke my ribs, and one punctured my lung," he said looking away from him with slow blinking eyes.

The man stared down at him. "I guess I can't be angry about that."

Ichigo looked up at him smiling, eyes hopeful. "You mean that? I'm glad."

Renji and Grimmjow stood just outside the viewing range of Ichigo, just past the partially opened door.

"How did you get here?" the tall man asked. They heard an audible gulp.

"I called a friend because I was hurting," he said quietly. "I thought I was dying and I didn't want to die like this because you'd get in trouble and the cops might have come and found…" Ichigo began, running on due to the pain medications and sedatives when he normally wouldn't have.

"Since when do you have fuckin' friends to call? I told you that you weren't allowed to have any, and no one you should fuckin' remember a number of," he said, and Grimmjow and Renji both heard the anger creeping into his voice.

Ichigo backpedaled. "He's not a friend, just a guy from work, he gave me his number in case I needed a ride to work…and…"

"You fuckin' know better. You fuckin' walk to your job or you don't have a fuckin' job and you'll be cuffed to the bed for a week again like the last fuckin' time you pulled this shit."

"Okay, Ronny, okay, I'm sorry, it won't…" Ichigo said, and his voice cracked a little.

"You're fuckin' crying? Again? You know the results of that, it pisses me off, and you'll get them when you get home. If you're fuckin' lucky I won't send you back with worse than a few broken ribs."

They heard Ichigo swallow hard. "Ronny, I'm sorry, it's just I don't feel good and…"

"Don't fuckin' bitch, it's completely your own damn fault you're here. You're too fuckin' weak, that's why. Don't fuckin' talk to anyone. Don't fuckin' breathe on anyone, or I'll come back and snap your neck and take my prize, and then get the others that I want."

Renji and Grimmjow moved down a little and looked to be talking as the man exited the room, glancing around. He had to stand almost six four or five. Renji bit his lip as he saw his roommate shake in anger.

Grimmjow took a deep breath to steady himself. "That asshole has to be in his thirties. What the hell is that kid doing with him?"

They waited a while and heard sniffing in the room behind them, and then when they were sure he was gone, both went in. Ichigo looked up, his eyes red rimmed. He swallowed.

"Thanks for helping me, but you gotta go, now, okay?" he said glancing up nervously out the glass doors.

"No fucking way," Renji said. "What the hell is going on?"

Ichigo didn't say anything, only stared at his hands. "Who was that guy?" Renji continued.

"Aaroniero, Ronny, he's my boyfriend," he said softly. "I live with him in the apartment."

Grimmjow frowned. "How long have you been seeing that asshole?"

Ichigo shrugged. "I guess about four or five years now…"

Renji and Grimmjow glanced at each other. "Ichigo, you're only like twenty, and that guy is at least thirty."

He looked up at them. "He's twenty-eight, actually," he said quietly.

"Why are you with him?" Renji asked slowly.

Ichigo looked up, his eyes wide and throat working to try and talk. "I deserve him," he said quietly. "So I stay because I deserve him. It's my punishment for what I've done."

Renji and Grimmjow exchanged a look. "If you were fuckin' like fifteen when you started 'seeing' him, how is that possible, there is no reason for a kid that young to deserve to be raped and beaten on a daily fuckin' basis," Grimmjow said, eliciting a shudder from the kid in front of him.

"Just go, please," he whispered and turned over, closing his eyes. "I'm fine, I always am. Just go away."

The roommates left. They said nothing until they got to the car, a bright red Malibu that belonged to Renji. Grimmjow looked at him. "What the fuck is a twenty four year old man doing getting in a fifteen year old kid's pants?"

Renji looked up with an arched brow. "I don't know, but I'm fucking going to find out."

Renji had his reasons that he couldn't let this go. He wasn't ready to tell Grimmjow why just yet, but he saw that there was a look of agreement on Grimmjow's face. It seemed that Grimmjow had his own reasons to want to figure out what was happening as well. Renji didn't care what those reasons were. He just wanted to do something about this.