Abuse wasn’t shocking. It was schedule. Physical, sexual, mental, it came in waves, and we learned to take it. To absorb it and become it. That was the point. To make monsters out of boys and break us just enough so they could reshape the pieces.
And somewhere in all of that, I went quiet. Not out of fear, I was done being afraid, but because there was no point.
I learned fast that words fall flat when no one listens. Noise never fucking saved me.
Screams dissolve when no one turns their head. It taught me how loud pain can echo when no one answers.
And tears? They dry fast when you realize no one gives a fuck enough to notice you’re crying.
So I stopped. I numbed it all out. Not because the pain lessened, but because I realized something darker. Trauma doesn’t fade. It festers in the silence, deepening its roots until the quiet becomes bearable.Until it’s familiar. Until It’s home.
And The Shadows let me. They said it wasn’t weakness; it meant I was becoming what the fuck I was supposed to be.
Cold. Silent. Untouchable. And I believed them.
My mind is loud, an unrelenting noise of chaos, but I’ve always spoken when it mattered. To The Hollows, my brothers, because they’ve earned it. They’ve never made me doubt them.
But now I’m looking down at Aurelia, who sees through the quiet like it’s glass, and suddenly, for the first time in years, the one thing I’ve always held back feels like the one thing I want to give.
But it’s like something cursed is gripping my throat, reminding me I’ve kept it shut for too long, and I deserve this.
“You wanted to see me smile?” she asks like she was reading my thoughts again, but I don’t respond, I just close in on myself.
“And what about you?” she presses, and when her hand comes up to my face again, I finally meet her eyes.
She mirrors what I did, thumb and finger at the corners of my painted lips, trying to force a smile, but I stay expressionless.
She breaks out in laughter, her head tilted back as her hand clutches her ribs. The sound is so… carefree. So… pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone laugh before. And I can’t stop staring at her, the slight twitch of my lips deceiving me.
When she calms down, her icy eyes glisten with tears, still shimmering with the aftermath of it all.
“Why are you always so serious, you big monster?” she giggles, her voice warm, before her arm snakes around my shoulders, pulling me in until her lips press against mine.
My tongue instantly merges with hers, my hand sneaking beneath her towel, finding her bare asscheek to tightly grab. Just as things begin to get feral between us, my cock rock-hard, I pull back, giving her one last kiss before I start to move, preparing to leave.
“Nope!” she demands, sitting up and leaping onto me.
As she straddles me, she pushes me down onto the bed, and I sigh, my gaze shifting away. Her small hands glide over my chest, the touch igniting a fire that makes my balls ache, a painful reminder of what’s already happened tonight and how I haven’t even came inside her yet.
It’s fucking unbearable.
She reaches over to the med kit and starts preparing to treat the bullet wound on my shoulder—the wound she fucking created. I stare at her beautiful, makeup free face as she concentrates, her brow furrowed in focus.
When she’s done, carefully putting everything back in the kit, I start to sit up again, planning to get the fuck out of here before I snap her little body in two on my dick. But Aurelia’s hands shoot out, pushing me back down with a hard shove.
“Not so fast, circus boy. You tortured me enough tonight,” she purrs, her hungry gaze sliding down my tattooed body. “Now it’s your turn to be tortured.”
She suddenly rips her towel off her cut and bruised body, flinging it across the room, leaving herself naked, then lies on top of me, her head tucked beneath my chin.
I growl in frustration as she gets cosy, her warm flesh pressing against me, hard nipples grazing my skin. She’s not wrong. This is fucking torture. Not the kind I’m used to. This is far crueller. Does she know I won’t screw her pussy? Is this some kind of sick test? It wouldn’t shock me. My little corpse likes to play games just as much as I do.
Time drags on, her weight settling against me, her breathing slow and steady. She’s asleep, but I feel the pressure swelling as the seconds tick by, until, finally, I just give in.
Using my fingers, I reach over, grab the sheet and drag it on us. She stirs, lips brushing my neck with a soft sigh, sending a shiver straight through me.
I wrap one hand over her ass, the other finding her hair, raking my fingers through the damp strands and my eyes lock on the ceiling, becoming lost in the darkness. My mind running on overdrive.
Chapter Fifteen