TRIGGER WARNING !!! please read the following note carefully before proceeding with the chapter.

This chapter is going to contain sexual description. It was extremely difficult for me to write this chapter, without feeling like I had to throw the story and this plot out of the window, but it has its purpose. Regardless of, if you've signed up with me for a R4R or you're a judge, if you're not comfortable with this sort of mature content, skip to the next chapter where you have a brief summary of the events. Your safety and mental health comes first! <3

However, if you do decide to proceed with it, and that's on your accord, I would appreciate any constructive feedback on where I can improve, but, don't make it a negative backlash.

Timeline of Events - 2006

Arav's POV:

"I trusted you," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of betrayal and disbelief. Maya's cruel laughter echoed through the empty alley, intensifying the feeling of shattered innocence and broken trust that had left me with a deep sense of pain and confusion.

"It's not about trust, my dear boy. It's about power," she had whispered, her voice a venomous caress that sent a shiver down his spine.

I stood there, a cascade of conflicting emotions swirling within me like a tempest.

The air hung heavy with the weight of revelation as I took in the sight before me. Maya, the confidante I had shared my innermost thoughts with, materialized in the flesh, but the image shattered the illusion I had crafted in my mind.

I looked on; the air felt thick with the weight of revelation. Maya, the person I had confided in and shared my deepest thoughts with, appeared before me in the flesh. However, the vision shattered the illusion I had constructed in my mind.

As I watched her, my mind tried to reconcile the person I had imagined with the one standing before me. The warmth of our virtual connection collided with the stark reality of her physical presence.

Her calculated steps and the clumsy daze that surrounded her told a story that I had seen before, a story that was etched in my memory from my father's drunken moments.

The nights were never the same when the bottle found its way into my father's hands. It was a transformation, subtle yet profound, as if the familiar contours of his personality were painted over by the brushstrokes of a different, more volatile spirit.

I remember the way his movements became a delicate ballet of imbalance, each step a precarious dance with gravity. The once-sturdy hands, now betrayed by the influence of alcohol, would fumble through the simplest tasks. It was a silent struggle, a battle waged in the quiet corners of our home.

His words, once laced with wisdom and warmth, took on a different cadence. They stumbled and slurred, losing their coherence in the labyrinth of inebriation. Conversations that used to be anchors in our relationship now floated away like drifting balloons, their strings slipping through his intoxicated fingers.

There was no violence, no explosive anger that left the walls echoing with its aftermath. Instead, there was a grumpy haze that settled over him, a cloud of discontent that cast shadows on every interaction. The air buzzed with unspoken tension, a silent storm gathering strength in the midst of our domestic tranquility.

I recall the way his gaze would wander, unfocused and distant, as if searching for something beyond the walls of our home. In those moments, he became an enigma, a puzzle with missing pieces that no amount of searching could solve. The man I knew retreated into the recesses of his own thoughts, leaving behind a mere echo of his former self.

As I observed this transformation, I couldn't help but wonder—was this the price of escape my father willingly paid, or was he a captive of a vice that refused to release its grip?

Her features, the subtle imperfections that painted a story on her face, were laid bare in the unforgiving light of reality.

The intimacy of our virtual conversations had produced an image of her that existed only in our minds, unaffected by the subtleties of aging.

A surge of anxiety tightened its grip on my chest. My breaths became shallow, as if the air around me had thinned. Each step she took felt like an echo reverberating through the corridors of my apprehension.

Internally, a hurricane raged—a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to engulf my composure. My mind became a battleground, where the clash of anticipation and unease echoed with each heartbeat.

'What's wrong with you? Move already; this isn't right,' my mind warned.

The tightening of my body betrayed the silent struggle within. Involuntarily hunching my shoulders, I tried to protect myself from the unexpected. My once-steady fingers began to shake with the unpredictability of the situation.

I wondered what delusions I had allowed to grow, and vulnerability weighed me down like an unwanted burden. The idea of confronting Maya as a person with imperfections and complexity rather than as my confidante of secrets sent shivers down my spine.

My body was screaming alerts, buzzing in my mind like alarms. I had a queasy feeling that told me something wasn't quite right about this experience. However, despite my better judgment, I felt drawn in by an unexplainable power.

Was this the illusive feeling that people referred to as love? A constant push toward acceptance, even in the face of the other person's apparently unappealing realities?

My mind's cogs whirred, recalling the conversations I'd had with her in the middle of mixed feelings.

Maya: Hey Arav, How's your day going?

Arav: Same old, same old. School's a drag, like usual. But you light my day up with your messages.

Maya: Aww, you sweet talker. :) Anything exciting happening?

Arav: Not really. Just the usual teenage drama. What about you?

Maya: Oh, you know, the thrilling life of a high schooler. Exams, crushes, the whole shenanigans. But talking to you is my escape.

Arav: Haha, yeah. Teenagers, right? Always drama. Your messages light up my day.

Maya: You're too kind. But seriously. You're a gem, Arav.

The vivid recollection painted a stark contrast to the disheveled figure before me, amplifying the surreal nature of the situation.

Standing here felt like an eternity; it was an agonizing experience from which there was no way out. My thoughts were occupied by the deep desire for the earth to split open and devour me whole.

⚠️

She was undeniably aged, but she had a strange beauty about her. My confused heart became wrapped in the dark chains of desire, like a moth to a trickling light.

"Babe," her voice came to me, cutting through the deafening buzzing that had taken over my senses.

The sensation of her lips was akin to savoring honey—a delicate sweetness that sent a pleasant, tingling shiver through every nerve, leaving an indelible impression on the canvas of the moment.

My hands moved instinctively, bringing her closer in a single smooth movement. Despite a voice inside telling me to run, I was drawn to her and couldn't break free.

My better sense was overpowered by her mysterious attraction, and I ended up entangled with her, despite the possible risk she posed.

The realization of impending regret loomed over me, a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the fleeting pleasure. I was impotent, but there was a need that would not go away, something I could not control.

The absence of belief in any deity couldn't erase the impulse to plead with every cosmic force for forgiveness.

I couldn't help but feel torn between savoring the moment and drowning it all in a mind-numbing drink.

I was so caught up in this internal turmoil that I didn't realize she had done next.

Her skin was a work of art that showed off the delicate dance of aging—it was firm, yet it had soft traces of age on it.

How come I gave in to this? More inconveniently, why did I allow her to have this kind of control over me, and why did it seem oddly enjoyable? Her cold hands on my shivering, electric body appeared to deliver poison at the same time as comfort.

For an instant, the world appeared to become blurry as an unexpected sharpness pierced through the uncertainty and overpowered my senses. It was not the slightest biting sensation, but rather something sharper that gave me a chill and temporarily numbed me.

She stroked my hair softly and said, "Happy eighteenth birthday," then pulled back in her Sedan, causing a numbness to sink in.

⚠️

Time lost its grip on reality, minutes stretching into hours before my senses slowly returned. The biting cold wind jolted me back to the present, and a tidal wave of emotions crashed in.

Remorse dragged me down like a big anchor. Frustration and resentment intensified the nausea that churned in my stomach. Still, in the midst of the chaos, there was a surprisingly pleasant and relieving feeling.

I was ripped apart by conflicting feelings and engulfed in a tornado of self-doubt. Were these feelings warranted, or had I entered a dark place I couldn't fully understand?

"I can't believe this, Arav! What the hell happened to you?" My dad's voice pierced the air, a mix of anger and disappointment.

⚠️

My attempt to talk was thwarted by the words stuck in my throat. It took one look at my blood-stained pants to convince him of the worst.

"Look at you! You've stained our family's reputation. What were you thinking?" His eyes bore into mine, accusing and furious.

"Dad, it's not what you think. I didn't—" I stammered, attempting to defend myself.

"Don't lie to me! I raised you better than this." With his face twisted in rage, he spat, "I thought I could trust you."

"Dad, please listen. It's not what you think. I'm not—" I pleaded, desperate for him to understand.

"What are you not? A letdown? A scandal? Is that what you don't have?" His words cut deep, and I felt the weight of his disappointment crushing me.

"Dad, I didn't ruin anyone. I promise," I managed to say, "It's a misunderstanding," but my voice was shaking.

"A misunderstanding? Do you believe that I'm a fool? The disappointment in his eyes hardened into something colder as he spoke in a caustic tone.

"I just need you to believe me," I begged. "Please, Dad," but my words were ignored.

He turned away, shaking his head. "I never imagined you would become that petty. You have disgraced the name of our family."

The weight of his remarks hung in the air, settling as an unspoken fact, and the room seemed oppressive.

⚠️

"Thank goodness, your mother and I went out today. She doesn't need to be aware of this. However, Arav, don't assume you've avoided the repercussions. Eventually, you'll have to deal with them," he said, his eyes blazing with a chilly ferocity.

The weight of his criticism and the ensuing repercussions fell hard on my shoulders as he turned to leave me standing there in the wake of his words.

The peaceful escape I had hoped for turned into a nightmare, and I was left grappling with the shattered fragments of my world.

Under the scalding cascade of water, my skin turned a rosy hue, an attempt to match the blush of normalcy. Steam rose around me like a curtain, seeking to obscure the painful scenes replaying in the theater of my mind.

I urged myself to let it all go in the hopes that the intense heat would erase the eerie recollections ingrained in my mind. But the sound of guilt remained, a constant companion, with each stream of water that ran down my body.

The stream searched for my physical wounds relentlessly as I stood there, and the ache of a new cut served as a reminder that some scars were more real than others. Water droplets mixed with the faintly metallic flavor of blood—an unwanted concoction of my inner turmoil.

Why can't I escape this? I pondered, fingers tracing the outlines of the healing wound. The bathroom mirrored my internal chaos, its tiles reflecting the fragmented pieces of my psyche.

In a moment of surrender, I thought as I traced the contours of the healing wound with my fingers. The bathroom's tiles reflected the shattered parts of my mind, mirroring my inner turmoil.

I grabbed for the torn bandage and the crumpled roll of gauze in a moment of surrender—the remains of a desperate attempt to seal deeper wounds. I felt a peculiar satisfaction as I wound the bandage firmly; it gave the impression of control in a situation where control had long since eluded me.

I stood there, torn between the promise of a cleansing shower and the crushing weight of regret, as though I was hoping that the next drop would take away more than the visible reminders of my past problems.

My mother said, "We can't stay here, Arav," her voice heavy with unspoken burdens and secrets revealed.

My gaze begged her, a silent questioning of the motives that now required their departure. The residue of miscommunications and discoveries made the room feel heavy.

My father looked up at me, weary from all that had happened. The complexity of truth and the sacrifices it required established the relationship throughout our silent dialogue.

At last he said, "It's complicated, son," his words trailing off like a tired sigh. "The truth has a way of reshaping everything, and we can't escape the consequences."

My heart sank, the heaviness in the air constricting around me. "But leaving? Is that the only solution?"

A mixture of resolve and grief softened my mother's eyes. "It's necessary to leave sometimes, Arav. It's about finding a new location to heal and rebuild, not about running away."

"We have to protect what matters most, even if it means making difficult choices," my father continued. Son, it's for the best. For everyone here."

The aftermath of spilled truths and misunderstandings had left them with no choice but to embark on a journey into the unknown, seeking solace and a chance to rebuild their fractured lives.

❛heavy is the head that wears the crown,
but heavier is the heart that's let down.❜

A/N:

*dies*
*revives*
*dies again*

first, just take a moment to breathe.

one. breathe in.
two. breathe out.

take as many breaths and breaks you might need after reading this chapter.

it was certainly not easy for me to write this chapter, i kept telling my friends that it made me feel terrible enough to make me boil my skin off. i still can't process what happened here either. but, to speak, i DO NOT support any sort of assault. Maya's just.. *shudders* I don't even know how I came around to create such a character, but, I knew I had to shed a light on two of the aspects that aren't talked about often—male sexual assault and pedophilia. boys are usually faced with the, "oh, lucky you got laid", but, who do they even tell to, if their parents, who they're supposed to rely on, turn against them in such a fashion?

this chapter took me days to write, cause i wasn't even able to lift the pen or convince myself to write it because it was important.

important, not as in, the character had to go through this, but, important as in to show, how dark the web can become, and how, we must always choose what we reveal and what we hide very cautiously, especially with online friends. not everyone you meet is your friend, not everyone who's nice is your confidante, and not everyone who's sweet and chirpy, your well wisher.

i am quite weary, but, feel free to share your thoughts and opinions, or even stories if you wish to, consider it a safe space <3