There is a ton of abusive stuff in here and talk about sexual abuse, so trigger warning. I'm sorry if it's too bad for you to read ;-;

~~~

It was unnerving, the way they examined me. Poking, prodding, pushing my legs apart and feeling me up. God, that was the worst part. It was slightly triggering to have somebody poke the areas where horrible shit happened to me. I don't understand how people who do remember the horrible things that happened to them sit through this, because it's terrible. I can't even have somebody in here with me to ease my already shot nerves. I almost refused it altogether when they said Jordan wasn't allowed in the room, but Jordan insisted I go, that it wasn't bad at all and it would be over in minutes. It feels like hours to me.

Did I mention how old the doctor was? He looked sixty, he was bald completely, and he had these glasses on, the same ones that almost all sex offenders wear in their mugshots. I was so creeped out. And then there was this nurse, this incredibly polite little dude who was trying his best to calm me down, and failing miserably. I must've looked on the edge of bolting out of there by the way he was treating me like a porcelain plate, petting my arm and telling me reassurances like just a few more minutes. Why didn't they have girl doctors and nurses come and examine me? This is uncomfortable.

"Feeling for swelling of the rectum," the old guy mumbled to the nurse. I didn't have time to ask what the hell that meant before he prodded my ass with his finger. I shrieked at the top of my lungs and kicked him backwards, putting some distance between my poor ass and his gross creepy fingers.

"I'm done," I told the nurse, on the verge of hyperventilating. "I'm done. I want my clothes, give me my clothes."

He wrung his hands nervously and glanced at the angry old pervert who was rubbing his now bruised rib age. He then gave me an apologetic look. "I-I can do it instead? It won't take but a few seconds, I promise. Then we'll be completely done. Okay?"

If he didn't look so much like Jordan, I would've declined. But, remembering the proud look on Jordan's face when I accepted the exam offer, I agreed reluctantly.

He slid some gloves on and took the place where the doctor had been, then went to work. I imagined myself somewhere else, and not in a creepy hospital being examined for rape. I imagined I was in the London streets with Jordan in his pretty dress, dancing to the slow song spilling form the speakers. When I snapped back to reality, my clothes were at the foot of my bed and the doctor had left. Thank god, it's over. Now to pop the big question.

"Was I raped?" I sputtered out. The nurse flinched at the question, keeping his eyes and attention glued to whatever the hell he was writing down.

"I-I'm not allowed to answer that. Not until a doctor is in the room and they can look over the paperwork-"

I groaned. "How long will that take?"

"I'm...I'm not really sure-"

"Just tell me, please. I can't stay in this damn room another minute or I'm gonna hurl."

He shook his head. "I'll get fired. I'm sorry."

"Not like I'm gonna tell anybody you told me. Please?"

"I really can't, Tom."

...how did he know my name?

"How the hell do you know my name?" I demanded.

He kept his face away from my line of sight as he kept scribbling. "I-It's on your clipboard."

"No it's not. I'm doing this anonymously, that cop said I could." I studied him for a little while longer. The whole time he's been in here, he's worn a mask. The doctor didn't wear a mask. And I know his voice, I know I've heard it before.

"Dr Jones will be here shortly," he said quietly, pulling up the mask a little more. "He's going to tell you the results."

Aha! I knew who this was! "You're Ryley! You stabbed me in the arm with glass!"

His eyes widened in horror and he looked back at me, horrified. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I was just mad at Declan and I-"

The door swung open before he could finish, and in walked the ginger bar tender I'd met literally a month ago. "Hello, I'm Dr Jones and I'll be giving the results of your-...Tom?"

"Yeah, it's me. What are you guys doing here?"

"Intern program," Ryley croaked as he shifted closer to the ginger doctor.

"And I was offered a job here temporarily, until my business has opened up," Declan explained.

"Ah. Cool. So was I raped?"

Both of them froze. Declan was the first to snap out of it and talk, while Ryley shuffled behind him and pretended to be interested in his clipboard.

"Technically..." Declan drew out, seemingly holding his breath. "I would say yes."

My heart plummeted. On instinct, I drew my legs tighter together and pulled them up to my chest. I should've known. I couldn't have gotten lucky enough not to be.

"I want details," I said in a stupidly small voice. "What does technically mean? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you," Dec was quick to assure me. "You're fine. You're safe now, the bruises will heal very quickly and we've given you a wonderful recommendation to the best therapist-"

"Declan I want answers. Stop treating me like glass, I want the harsh truth. What happened to me?"

He stayed silent, lips pressed tight together and forehead wrinkled with thought. He looked like he wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. But as if on cue, Ryley slowly approached me and handed the clipboard over, which had my results on the pages. Shit, I hate reading. I tried my best to read through it, even though my dyslexic brain was cramping from the strain.

Rape was checked. So was Sexually Assaulted. Everything else read off information about the bruises and swelling on the rest of me. Except for a note scribble at the bottom of the page.

Swelling around most affected area looks to be caused from blunt object, seemingly a bottle or something equal in length. Rape checked, but no semen or other signs of rape found. Multiple offenders may be possible, fingerprints are not all the same.

I didn't even know what to say. They used me as a bottle holder. Did they think that was funny? Were they too good to do the awful shit themselves, so they used me as a joke?

"Jordan has asked to see you if you would like to see him?" Declan asked, breaking me out of my angry thoughts. I nodded distractedly and kept staring at bottle on the paper. A bottle. They violated me with a bottle.

As soon as Dec and Ryley left the room, Jordan came flying in. He stopped mid-step when he saw probably how pissed I was. "Oh god. Are you okay?"

"To be honest, not really."

"W-what did they say?"

"They basically used me as a fucking bottle holder. Jesus, I'm sorry I didn't mean to curse but...damnit! They used me as a bottle holder Jordan! And somehow that's worse than actually actually getting raped! Why is that worse to me?" I threw the clipboard down in the floor and hid my face in my hands, in pure shame. I cheated on Jordan, I broke the no alcohol promise, I broke the cursing promise, I'm a fucking failure at being a decent human being.

I heard him pick up the clipboard. "A bottle?" He asked softly.

"Probably a beer bottle, since they're just the classiest group of gentlemen I've ever met." The sarcasm I meant to use in the sentence didn't go through. It was just bitterness. Pure bitter hatred for myself and for them.

"That's horrible," Jordan said in a choked voice. "I'm so sorry."

"It's my fault anyway. Shouldn't have drank those stupid beers. I promised no alcohol, this is what I get." I'm never drinking again. Just the thought of beer made my stomach churn in the worst way possible.

"Tom, none of this was your fault. And you didn't break the promise, you agreed no more heavy drinking. A few beers don't count for heavy drinking, and even if it did I don't care if you broke a silly promise. You're more important to me and I just wanted you to be happy. Taking away the bad things seemed a good way to help you be happy."

I didn't say anything. He sat beside me on the bed and wrapped me up in his arms. It was the first hug I was able to stomach since yesterday. Anything touchy seemed to make me wanna puke or tear my hair out.

"I love you," he whispered. "You're so brave. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, mum," I mumbled half-jokingly. He giggled softly in my hair as he ran his fingers through it.

"You have such pretty hair. Never tell you enough how much I love it."

I snorted. "I look like a magic troll."

"My little troll," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to my temple. "I love my beautiful Tommy."

"What's with all the compliments?" I asked with real sarcasm this time. "I'm blushing."

I felt his thumb swipe against my cheek. He was wiping away a tear I didn't know had fallen from my eye. I'm a wimp.

"Let's get you dressed so we can get out of here. Unless you wanna keep rocking that snazzy green dress you've got on."

Wow, he's really letting the compliments fly today. I was blushing horribly.

"Half my ass hangs out of it, so I think I'd rather have my normal clothes if you don't mind."

~

We took a cab back to the hotel after we sorted out a bunch of paperwork at the hospital. There was still lots to go, so Jordan brought it with us and said he'd turn them in tomorrow. I slept on him for the entirety of the ride back. Mental breakdowns are exhausting. Luckily, Jordan is a great body pillow.

I wanted to nap the whole day, but we had to finish the paperwork first, and most of the questions were about me so Jordan couldn't do it himself. He said he'd make it fast so I could go get some rest, so I agreed reluctantly.

The first 25 were just basic hospital questions about my age and allergies and my last visit to a hospital. Steadily, they began to get more and more personal as we got into the 30's. Jordan was blushing hardcore and it was adorable.

"Um, how many sexual partners have you had in the past?"

"Seven, I think. No. Eight. No, nine. Yeah nine sounds reasonable." I knew the number was in no way near nine, but the hospital didn't need to know that. Most of those partners were one night stands anyway. I can barely remember them.

He nodded quickly and wrote down the number. "Okay...uh, do you have any sexually transmitted diseases?"

"None that I know of. I'm probably clean."

"Erm, I'm gonna put Needs Testing."

"What, you doubting me?"

He shrugged, cheeks still red as tomatoes. "Nine partners is a big possibility of contracting a disease."

"I think I'd know if I had a disease, Jordan."

"Sometimes people can't tell until it's too late."

"Too late?"

"Before they give the disease to somebody else. It's just best to be sure, okay?"

I get it. He's afraid I'll give him a disease whenever we decide to do the dirty. And that's understandable. I am kind of a man whore. It'd be no wonder if I extracted a disease from being one.

"Fine. Next question."

"Are you currently-...currently sexually active?"

"Not sure," I replied sarcastically. "Does getting raped count as being sexually active?"

I hated seeing the color drain from his face every time I mentioned rape. It was like the thought of it nearly killed him. He opened his mouth, probably about to spew out another lecture, but I talked over him before he could. "Just put yes. I don't care. Next question."

It took him a few moments to close his mouth again and read off another question. "It's a section that asks stuff about what happened. Are you okay with answering these?"

"Sure, go ahead."

He nodded, sighing. "Were you intoxicated when the incident happened?"

"Yeah."

"Do you drink often?"

"I guess so."

"State how often you drink: Yearly, Monthly, Weekly, or Daily."

"Monthly I guess? Why does this matter?"

"For stupid reasons that you won't like."

"Name them."

He sighed. "Sometimes, whenever they catch a rapist and the whole court thing goes on, the defense tries to pin the rape on the victim because of how drunk they were or what they were wearing when it happened. It's really stupid."

"Well, not really. If I got myself drunk enough to have this happen to me, it obviously matters."

He looked at me like I'd just slapped him. "Tom."

"What?"

"How suggestible you were doesn't matter. They raped you. They hurt you. How drunk you were doesn't justify their actions. They made the decision to take advantage of you."

"I probably consented to it though." Knowing how much of a sleezy man whore I am.

"You were drunk! Declan said you had drugs in your system, they might've drugged you! You were probably out of your mind, that's not consent!"

"If I'm willing to do it while drunk, I'm probably willing to do it sober."

It scared the crap out of me when he slammed it fist down on the table and stood up, glaring at me. "Why are you blaming yourself for getting raped!?"

"Because it was my fault."

"It wasn't!" He nearly screamed. "You didn't ask them to rape you, Tom!"

"You weren't there. You don't know what I said or did or asked. I could've asked them."

"You have bruises where they pinned you down! They choked you, there's a damn handprint on your neck! You think that came from consensual sex!?"

"There's a chance I wanted them to do that."

"There's a chance you wanted them to hurt you?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't yell at me."

"And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop acting like you didn't get raped."

"It's not rape if I liked it."

"Why would you like it?! Why would you want to willingly cheat on me? Why would you want to be violated with a beer bottle and have a bunch of guys take turns using your throat for fun?"

"Shut up!" I shouted, standing up to return the games he'd been forcing on me.

"No! Because you need to accept this!"

"Why? So I can wallow in my own pity and hate myself forever? So I can act like a fucking victim for the rest of my life?"

"Because it's so much worse when you don't accept it Tom, it's torture! It's constantly blaming yourself when horrible things happen and beating yourself up over it for years on end and making excuses for bastards who hurt you so they can keep hurting you and getting away with it! You don't want that! You don't wanna waste years like I did, hating myself for existing, thinking I was never good enough, wanting to kill my self every time I looked into a mirror...I wasted years thinking it was all my fault and I don't want you to suffer like I did. I know it's hard, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but you need to accept it and realize that it wasn't your fault. Please. I love you so much." He closed the gap between us and hugged me tightly around the waist.

He's right. He's been through this ten times over and he knows what's best.

I returned the hug. "You're always right," I chuckled tiredly into his hair. "I should just stop arguing."

"I didn't mean to yell..." He mumbled weakly into my shirt.

"I needed to be yelled at anyway. I was talking like an idiot. It's alright."

His phone was ringing in his back pocket. With a groan, he reached behind himself and silenced it.

"Who was that?" I questioned out of curiosity.

"Nobody more important than you."

"Jordan. Who called?"

"Erin, most likely. Or Nick or Max, I don't know. I haven't talked to anyone in a few days."

"Call them back."

"I really don't want to. Erin is constantly on my back for being around you and Max is always asking questions about you and Nick won't stop giving me helpful advice about you. Seems like all my friends are fascinated by you. I guess I shouldn't blame them, you are amazing."

"No I'm not..."

"Yes you are."

"Nah."

"Yes."

"Nu."

"Yah."

"Call them back!" I laughed into his shoulder.

"Okay! But after we finish the rest of the questions, okay?"

"Yay. More questions." I pulled away from his grip and slumped back down into my chair. He copied my movement and sent me a sympathetic look.

"It'll be quick. We can do it."

He held my hand under the table.

~

Jordan had to silence his phone at least eight times during the night, each time I asked he call back, he would decline, and we would snuggle up and go back to bed, too tired to argue.

What I didn't expect was for Erin to come pounding on out hotel room door in the middle of the night with her face matching her exact hair color. When Jordan pulled open the door she looked ready to kill and I felt like hiding under the bed.

"Why the hell haven't I seen you in two days?!" She demanded angrily, both hands posed on her hips in an intimidating fashion. She didn't look all that intimating though, with a fluffy pink dress on and matching glitter converse. She looked like a mad pixie.

Jordan ran a hand stressfully through his pretty Raven locks, which were cute and messy from sleep. "You know, you could've waited until the morning to come crashing down my door and start yelling at me. I've been busy."

"Busy with what? Literally the only reason you came to London was for the convention, and I haven't even seen you near the convention place this week! What could possible be more important than meeting your fans who spent literal thousands of dollars to come meet you?"

Jordans eyes made the mistake of flickering to me for half a second. Erin slowly angled her head towards me and was wearing a look that clearly stated she was ready to kill. I looked to Jordan desperately for help and he stuttered nervously to my aid. "T-Toms been sick, I've been staying in with him to keep him company."

"Oh," Erin replied in a fake calm voice. "Okay. Did Tom also tell you about me finding women's clothes in here the other day? Because I have a feeling he didn't."

It took everything within me not to laugh my ass off like a hyena. Jordans eyes lowered in shame and he drew a hand to his neck to scratch the back of it nervously. "Erin...those were mine."

Erin's eyes widened like saucers. "The...the panties-?"

"Yes," Jordan mumbled lowly.

"The tutu? The tiara?"

He nodded like it was physically painful. It probably was.

"Oh Jordan, I'm sorry. You must think I'm such a tattle telling bitch. They aren't women's clothes, you can wear them anytime you want and don't be ashamed of it. Um, when did you start wearing your new stuff?"

"Tom bought it all for me awhile ago. And no I don't think that if you, I know you're only trying to protect me. It's okay. But I really don't think I can make the convention. Toms really sick."

"What does he have?" She looked to me for an answer. Realizing I had to come up with something quick, I tried to to recall a virus that lasted a week. None came up. So I settled for hacking violently and shaking my head, as if I couldn't answer. Erin cooed sympathetically.

"Somethings wrong with his throat. He probably had a strept or something, I'm sure it'll go away soon. I just wanna keep him company until it does. He gets lonely."

Psh. I get lonely. I mean, I do get lonely but...I don't admit it.

"Poor guy." Erin came over and smoothed her fingers through my hair. It made me relax. She had super soft fingers and the kind of fake nails that I loved to be scratched with. Not the super demon fake nails, but the kind that feels just right against the scalp. It was the first positive interaction I'd had with Erin since we first met. Maybe she trusts me now. I hope so. I wanted all of Jordan's friends to trust me.

"At least he's rocking the purple hair," she laughed. I was almost purring like a damn car underneath her nails. Jordan was grinning at me and my behavior.

I froze when one of her nails skimmed over something that hurt. She drew her hand back quickly and presumably went to examine what she bumped her nail against. "Oh gosh Tom, you've got a big place on your head here. Did you get some of your hair pulled out?" She lightly touched the area again. It sent my horrible chills down my skin and I felt sick.

Grab him by the hair and yank him down, it'll feel a hell of a lot better.

I almost threw up my dinner at the horrifying memory that had suddenly made its way into my head. They ripped my hair out. They tore a piece of my hair out.

But then Erin was massaging my scalp again, and the bad feelings washed away like dirty water. "Sorry, I shouldn't touch it. Probably none of my business anyway. So you guys won't make the convention this week?"

"I don't think so," Jordan said quickly. "He's pretty sick."

I am pretty mentally sick.

"Well okay," Erin sighed forlornly. "But you should at least go say hi and bye to the guys downstairs. Some of them didn't even get to see you. I can watch Tom while you go down?"

That didn't sit right with him, I knew. He looked weary about leaving me alone with someone I'd only just started getting along with. I sent him a reassuring nod so he'd go. I didn't want him missing out on seeing his friends just because of my sorry ass.

With a heavy sigh, he let out a noise of agreement and disappeared out of the room. Leaving me alone. With Erin.

"Are you really sick?" She questioned. I watched as she took a seat next to me, while still scratching my head gently. I could still feel the place she talked about. It ached and I hated that.

"Yeah. Just not in the way you'd think."

"Does Jordan know that?"

"He knows...everything." Every horrifying detail of what happened.

"Alright. You can't tell me what's wrong? Like, I feel terrible for being terrible to you. I had no idea...I mean, I knew Jordan loved to cross dress but he would never admit to it."

"I'd prefer not to tell you what's wrong. Oh, and he likes dresses. And skirts. He looks pretty in them." He looks gorgeous in them. That blue dress and that brown hat he wore was adorable. I wanted to see him wear it again.

"So then it's really serious, right? What's wrong?"

"I guess. I'm okay, really I am, but Jordan seems to think I'm broken glass or something." Which, after realizing all the horrible things they had done to me so far, I did feel a little broken.

I felt her fingers leave my hair and instead brush against my hip, where some of my shirt had come up to reveal a nasty looking bruise in the shape of a finger print. Great. Now she has an idea of what happened.

"If you ever want to talk about it, with somebody else besides Jordan, I'm here. I'm really sorry for being so hard on you. You were just...you were so much like Greg at first. Did Jordan ever tell you about Greg?"

"Yeah. He's an asshole."

"He is. But you acted a little bit like him, you had that care free attitude. And you have to understand, that day I walked in and saw Jordan covered in bruises-"

"I would've reacted the same way. It's cool."

"The last time I saw that utter piece of trash, he was petting Jordan like a dog and...Jordan was so scared. If I hadn't been there, he probably would've forced him to go back to that apartment. They used to live together before Jordan came to live with me and some others."

"He told me about that. Not about the petting thing, but the living arrangements. Did that bastard really kill Jordan's kitten?"

She nodded sadly. "We had a funeral for it in my backyard. Unfortunately, that didn't convince the poor guy completely to leave Greg. He went back after a few days and the whole mess started again."

What?

"He never told me he went back. Why did he go back after that freak killed a kitten in front of him?"

Erin frowned. "You know how it is in one of those relationships. The abuser promises to change and that everything will be different, and then the subject of the abuse believes every word and goes back to the abuser."

"I understand that, but-...but I don't understand the real reason he left Greg. When he did leave, what pushed him to?" And why did he lie to me about it?

"He never told me. He just called me one night and asked if me and his friend Ryan could come pick him up. We did. We brought him back to my house and he never said a word on what happened."

"Do you have an idea of what happened?"

"He didn't wanna talk. He was covered in more bruises than usual. He smelled like...it wasn't alcohol, but it was a strong smell. I bet he told Nick what happened. He tells Nick everything."

God, like Nick was gonna tell me shit. He was secretive about Jordans business. Which I guess was fair, but still. It was annoying as hell.

"Was he crying?" I asked dreadfully.

"Not for the first few days he was there. But when Greg called for the first time in days, he smashed his phone to pieces and started crying his little heart out. It must've been bad. His friends and I were bloodthirsty."

I growled. "Somebody needs to beat Greg within an inch of his life." And that somebody needs to be me.

I felt her brushing over my bruises again. I didn't mind all that much, given that she probably knew what was going on already, so I just sat there and let her do it.

"It's weird..." She murmured to herself. I tuned my head to look at her.

"What's weird?"

"I-...I think Jordan used to have these."

"What? Bruises? Yeah, you already said."

"Well yes, he had bruises. But the way yours are splayed out, it's weird." She lifted up my shirt a little more, further revealing all the monstrosities splayed around my body. Her eyes lifted to my neck, where the huge hand print was supposed to be, and her brown irises widened.

"What's weird about it?" I demanded, feeling very weirded out by how much she was ogling at me. I felt her thumb smooth against the handprint bruise as she kept staring.

"Greg used to hurt Jordan in all the same places."
~~~

This chapter was hard to write because it was so incredibly sad and a little disturbing >.< I'm sorry it took so long for me to post again! I just wasn't sure if I should change this chapter again, because in the last week I've changed it up at least three times and this seemed the least disturbing I could make it. Abuse is a bad thing and writing it makes me feel terrible.

Well anyway, I hoped you liked it a little bit? Please leave me comments on your opinions, they matter a lot to me <3

I hope you have a good rest of your day my lovely :3

- Lee