The water runs down a pale body. It washes away the pain, the memories. It runs down already made tracks down his cheeks. It started out boiling to the point of burning, but now it was cold. Yet he just sits, crouched in the cold corner of his shower, water pounding down on him, washing an already clean body.

But he doesn’t feel clean. He can still feel those hands. That tongue. That hot breath. Those words still echoing in his ears.

‘Such a pretty face. So strong too. But not strong enough, oh no, not strong enough. So pretty…’

He shudders, keeping his head down, buried in his arms. His skin is rubbed raw. He had scrubbed it for hours, trying to scrape off the feeling of his hands.

He had been clean for hours, but he still felt dirty, so dirty. The dirt, blood, and….other substances had been easily washed away, but he could still feel them coated on his skin. His throat was raw. He had tried. He had tried to get away, but…

‘So feisty. Just stay still. No screaming now. Tsk. Tsk. I didn’t want to use such force on such a pretty thing.’

He shivers, feeling the bruises, the sting of the scratches, the burn of penetration. It had happened so fast. He had tried to defend himself. But. He had been disgustingly weak. It was his fault. He should have defended himself. He should have done something besides moan and beg under that…that…

He lets out a small sob, shivers racking through his beaten body before standing up. He turns off the water with a shaking hand. He just stands there though, even as the water stops it icy spraying. He watches with dark eyes as the water goes down the drain, making a last suction noise as the last drop goes down.

‘Let me go! Do you know who I am?! Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone and you won’t go to jail. Let me go!’

‘I don’t who you are, pretty. But right now you’re just a whore in an ally and nobody cares about a pretty whore in an ally. Now just relax. It will only will hurt worse if your struggle.’

He yanks on his robe and double knots it. He walks past his bathroom mirror and stares at the beaten tear streaked face staring back at him. That face is supposed to be one of the strongest men in the country. It is supposed to be known by everyone, not only for having a father that owns a powerful business, but also for being remarkably smart and amazingly handsome. That face is supposed to be above everyone else. It is supposed to live up to everyone’s expectations. It is supposed to be immune to any trouble, worry, or problem.

He slams a fist into the mirror, watching with a sick pleasure as the glass shatters, falling to pieces onto the bathroom counter and into the sink below it. Then he feels something sting and looks down, almost surprised to find himself hurt again. The blood is so bright against his white skin. It is too red. Too bright. It is everywhere.

He had screamed in pain, his tears falling to the dirty, pissed stained concrete beneath him.

‘I told you to relax. Just look, pretty. It seems like I tore you. Look at the blood. It only makes a pretty whore like you even prettier. Such a dirty, bloody, whore.’

A rough hand had pulled his short hair, twisting his head to stare at the ground behind him, instead of at the graffiti brick wall he had been bracing himself against. In the little light he had saw a small puddle of thick, dark liquid below him. It had been a perfect circle, till his attacker had moved inside him.

Another scream was ripped from his throat, though he tried to hold it back, almost biting through his bottom lip. The perfect circle of his blood was ruined as thin trickle of crimson ran down his leg and into the puddle.

He nearly goes into hysterics at the sight of blood again and only doesn’t because of years of training to be a business man and to never show emotion in a bad situation. He quickly grabs a towel, ripping out the shards of the glass and wipes away the blood.

He leaves the rest of the glass, and leaves the bathroom, though it hurts him to move at all. He wraps the towel around his hand, so to stop the bleeding.

Finally he lies on his bed, exhausted, sore, and broken. He just wants to forget. He just wants to move on. He doesn’t want anyone to know what happened to him. What he let happen to him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, laying his head on a soft pillow, sinking into his mattress.

None of it seems real now that he is safe in his bed. It may of all been just a nightmare, maybe he just woke up. Maybe the mirror in his bathroom was never broken. Maybe he isn’t covered in bruises because of that nightmare, but because he was just practicing his fighting skills with Itachi again. Maybe that’s why he’s sore too.

But then he opens his eyes, he looks down at his hand and sees the white towel start to become stained, a small spot of red showing through.

He can’t see the angry blooms of bruises on his hips and arms. He can’t see jagged, red lines etched into his pale skin, from his shoulder blades to his waist. He can’t see the dark purple bite marks, littered across the back of his neck.

He can’t see any of this, but he can feel them and he can remember how he got each mark, how it felt. He can remember all of it. No matter how much he doesn’t want to. And he knows it wasn’t just a nightmare.

He tugs his silk sheets and heavy comforter over his shivering body, but it doesn’t help. He holds his blankets close as if it would help. As if they would hide him. He feels exhaustion start to take over. He finds himself fading into sleep.

Maybe it will be all better in the morning, like everyone says.

But everyone is always wrong; a goodnights sleep never brings anything, but nightmares.

He had collapsed onto the concrete, slipping to his knees, holding onto the shreds of his clothes. His attacker had smirked, disgusting tongue licking his lips before leaning down and biting his bleeding bottom lip. He had looked into his terrified dark eyes with his own gold and smirked again.

‘So pretty whore. Covered in my cum, in blood, in dirt. You are just going to lie in this ally. This dirty, dark ally. Like the whore you are. Till I come back for more fun. Bye-Bye my pretty.’ He had licked at his blood again then stood up and left.

He hadn’t moved till he was sure the man was gone. He had refused to cry in that ally. He had thrown on his shreds, his torn shirt, his spilt-at-the-seams suit jacket, his stained pants, and his shoes. He knew he looked ridiculous and just rushed home, hiding his face, ignoring the stares he got from the doorman at his hotel.

He had locked the door to his expensive apartment; double bolted it, told the doorman not to let anyone with gold eyes go up to his room. He had gone to the bathroom and immediately got into the shower to wipe away whatever traces still remained on him from the man. He had thrown the shreds of cloth away and just sat in the shower, sobbing and rubbing till the first layer of skin was gone, leaving him red.

He had just wanted to forget. The man’s words still haunting him.

‘Till I come back for more fun. Bye-Bye, pretty.’

He wakes feeling as though someone has thrown him into a brick wall a thousand times, then made him crawl through a mile of mud and thorns. He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to breathe. He just wants to sink into his bed, hide under the warm covers, and never go outside where those gold eyes are waiting for him.

His cell phone rings, letting him remember who he is and how he can’t skip out on a single day of work. No matter what. He winces as he moves his arm to reach the loud black device on his night stand and answers it without looking at the number.

“Sasuke Uchiha speaking.” He greets formally, before realizing how sore his throat is, how much it hurts to speak. It makes him realize how much he screamed last night. He pushes the images out of his mind, the memories; instead, concentrates on getting out of bed to get water.

“Bastard! Where are you?!? It’s Sunday! I’m supposed to be having five bowls of ramen by now!” the loud voice of his best friend bursts from the small phone and he holds it away from his ear, grimacing.

He doesn’t want to deal with his friend. His very loud, friend that would notice in an instant that something was wrong. The blond idiot had always been able to do that no matter how good of a mask he wore. The dobe could always see through it.

“Dobe. Shut up.” He says, hearing his thin, cracking whisper of a voice, so used to his usual deep, smooth one. He moves out of bed, wincing, but able to handle the pain for the most part before he moved into a sitting position. Pain shoots up his spine. He can’t move. He won’t move. He almost drops his phone and only just holds back a shout, instead mumbling curses. It hurts.

And he wonders what he has done to deserve both the pain and the even more painful memories now given to him. And he wonders if when the pain fades away, when the bruises, bites, and scratches, fade back into flawless skin, will the memories fade with them? Or will he always have that night etched into his mind, always in the back of his thoughts, waiting to be triggered? Will this one stupid time of helplessness and weakness haunt him forever?

And he wonders, will the man with gold eyes give him more things to remember? Like he promised?

The thought makes him shudder and want to take another shower, but he has to get out of bed first.

“Sasuke? Hey bastard! What is with your voice? Are you sick or something?” Naruto’s voice comes from the phone, wavering with concern and worry. He doesn’t answer as he braces himself to just get out of the bed and to ignore the memories of being ripped apart from the inside, out.

‘Just get out of bed.’ He repeats again and again in his head and quickly stands up.

Only to fall to his knees, this time unable to hold back a shout of pain.

Gods it hurt, it burned. And damn it! He was a Uchiha! He was supposed to be able to handle any pain in silence, with a stone mask on his face. Instead he was clenching the white carpet in his fists, trying to build up the courage to get up again. He had dropped the phone next to him.

“Sasuke?! What happened? Are you okay? That’s it, I’m coming over.” Naruto’s concerned voice reached his ears as he just lies there in pain. He winces as the phone hangs up.

He couldn’t let Naruto see him like this. He had to get dressed. He had to make himself perfect. He had to make himself a Uchiha again. Nobody was allowed to see him in pain like this. Nobody was allowed to see him weak.

Especially Naruto.

He braces himself. He closes his eyes and pushes himself off the floor again. He climbs to his feet and feels the pain again. It races up his spin, fire. He is sure of it. His….attacker had put fire into his body, to torture him for the rest of his life.

To punish him for being perfect.

To punish him for being pretty.

To punish him for being a hollow mask over an ideal life.

He stiffens every muscle in his body, trying to suppress the pain, try not to allow himself to feel. He allows his mind to start to drift off to that one place in his mind where he could find peace. A place of nothingness. Sometimes this place was filled with good memories, usually with Naruto. Sometimes it was just blankness, white and nothing else.

But he couldn’t reach the place in his mind. He kept being stopped by his voice. His touch. The pain.

‘He’s tainting my mind too. I can’t let him control me like this!’ Sasuke thinks to himself, still feeling the pain shooting up and down his spine like a broken elevator. But he ignores it. He is a Uchiha. He doesn’t know how many times he is reminded of this.

So he straightens up, doesn’t allow himself to even wince in pain, and walks over to his closet.

But he doesn’t even take a step before there is a knock at the door.

Fear shoots through him for a moment. Could his attacker have found him? Was he coming back for him? Was he going to put him through more torture, both physically and mentally?

But he calmed himself down, reassuring himself that it is just his idiot of a best friend. He lets Naruto knock on the door as he slowly gets dressed. He is only able to get on a pair of black sweat pants before he is sure Naruto will break down his door. Or that is what he tells himself as he bites his tongue to hold back even the slightest noises of pain.

He walks towards the door, suddenly feeling nervous as he reaches it. Is he ready for the outside world? If he even opens his door will the golden eyed man somehow find him? Somehow get him? Will he drag him by his hair out the door? Will he find another ally? Will he see more of his blood pool at his feet, in the dirt and scum?

Somewhere in his mind he knows he is being irrational. That he knows who is behind the door. That there is no way the man could have found him. That there was no way the man would ever have a chance to do that to him again.

But he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. He hears Naruto shout at him behind the wood, hears his threats that he going to break open the door, hears him say he is going to go get the manger to open the door, hears his friend’s footsteps fade away.

But he can only slide to the floor, as far away from the door as he can get. He huddles himself in a corner, trying to find the blankness in his mind, trying to escape the world. But he could only relive the night again and again.

Naruto had the manger open the door and told him to wait outside. Sasuke hadn’t answered him a single time he had knocked or shouted for him. He was afraid something had happened. He had imagined all sorts of things that could’ve happened to his best friend, but he couldn’t have imagined what he found in the room.

Sasuke was huddled in the corner, his head covered by his arms, knees tightened to his chest. He was shaking and not making a sound. The room was disheveled, not normal for the usual perfection the Uchiha demanded of his own room.

Naruto walks over to him, kneeling in front of him.

“Sasuke?”

No answer.

“Sasuke? Answer me. What happened?” He reaches out to touch his friend’s shoulder, but Sasuke cringes and moves away from his touch. Naruto stared. It was as if Sasuke had been broken, or turned into a well hunted animal.

“Sasuke? Tell me what happened. I just want to help. Please, tell me.” he says softly, unable to understand how why his friend was like this.

No answer.

Naruto looked a little closer at Sasuke shirtless body and stifled a gasp. Scratches, bruises, and bites littered his back and neck, his skin was more purple and red than its normal flawless cream color.

“Sasuke…what happened to you?” he said more to himself than Sasuke before bringing out his orange cell phone.

“Sasuke, I’m going to call 911. You’re hurt. You need to see some doctors. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that you get better. And that something like this never happens again.”

No answer.

Sasuke didn’t know where he was. He felt as if the darkness had finally swallowed him whole. He felt as if he were drifting slowly away. In an ocean of pitch and ash, without a hope or dream of swimming away.

He couldn’t move. He felt himself being coated thoroughly in shadows, his pale skin being slowly devoured, eaten, stripped off and replaced by darkness. He couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t feel his surroundings.

He opened his eyes to see the darkness only getting darker, closing in on him on all sides. He couldn’t breathe and opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t make a sound. His scream dissolved in the thickening black.

He couldn’t find himself out. He was fading into the dark. He was fading into the black. He was becoming pitch. His skin was becoming ashes. His eyes, coal. He was made of the dark. The dark was forcing its way into him. Over him. Under him. Killing him. Transforming him.

Gold eyes appeared and shined in the darkness, breaking it easily. They blinked before staring down at his dying body, dark pupils small, the gold almost glowing in the suffocating black. Sasuke tried to move away or at least close his eyes, but now the shadows were holding him there, tying his body to the spot. He felt his head tilted up to stare into those golden eyes as they grew larger and larger before a blindingly white grin broke through under them.

A crimson tongue, stained with other’s blood leapt out of the grin and shot down at trapped body. Sasuke tried to cry out, but it was swallowed by the slithering darkness around him. The tongue wrapped around his body, but instead of the pitch and ashes being wiped away, the wet appendage turned darker and darker until it was just another part of the shadows surrounding his body.

Voices started to whisper around him, whispering and talking, giggling and sneering. He couldn’t see them, but they grew louder and louder, blocking out all other sounds.

“That’s Sasuke Uchiha?”

“He looks like such a whore!”

“A disgrace to the family, I’d say!”

“Oh yessss! Wouldn’t it be just awful is everyone found out about how much of a slut he is?”

“Everyone would know how he liked it rough!”

“And dirty!”

“That little ickle Sasu-chan is just a dirty whore!”

“That he begs for it in the dark!”

“That he gets down on his knees, begging for it!”

“That he bleeds for it!”

“That he wants it so badly he takes from a stranger!”

“What a disgrace!”

“What a failure!”

“Such a pity…”

“His mother will probably cry…”

“His father will disown him…”

“His brother will be so disappointed…”

“And then there is little Naru-chan…”

“Oh yes…Naru-chan…What will he think?”

“That his stalker, the great Uchiha whore, loves him?”

“Yet still kneels in an alley at midnight just to be beaten and used?”

“Naru-chan will never want to talk to him again!”

“Oh no! Who would ever want to talk to such a slut?”

“Little Sasu-chan must be so ashamed!”

“I bet he isn’t! I bet he wanted everyone to know how much of a slut he is! He probably gets off on it!”

“You’re right! What a whore!”

“A downright slut!”

“But what did you expect?”

“Nothing less than that!”

“From an Uchiha…”

“A shame, really.”

“But you know the saying…”

“Once born a whore, stays a whore.”

Sasuke opened his mouth and kept trying to scream, hot tears pricking at his eyes. Nothing came out and the high pitched voices kept up there giggles and talking. Golden eyes stared down at him, never blinking, just watching, watching as he suffered and watching kept trying to scream, and watching as he tried to get free. And watching as he failed.

The tongue around him tightened, squeezing him. He could taste smoke in his mouth and the voices kept whispering. He felt dizzy and shut his eyes, his mind spinning out of control. The darkness was pushing in on all sides, the voices buzzing in his ears, whispering all of his fears, regrets, and most of all, his shames. He was dying. He could feel his skin burning off. He could feel his whole body sinking, drowning. He couldn’t get enough air. He tried to open his mouth, but only got smoke and more giggling.

The tongue pulled him down, the gold eyes watching in amusement. He wasn’t even struggling anymore. He let his chin rest on his chest and embraced the feeling of pain. Of drowning. Of burning. Of dying.

“Sasuke! Sasuke, are you okay? Sasuke wake up!”

Sasuke raised his head as he heard a faint voice ring through his head. He opened his eyes, once again attacked by the darkness and the golden eyes staring down at him, but now...

Now on the edges of the darkness, for the shadows had edges now, a light started to seep through. Tiny tendrils of light weaved through the black, soft fingers making the dark cringe and back away. Soon the voices started to scream around him, hissing and screeching in pain.

He was the only thing coated in pitch and ashes now. Smoke twirled around him, forming chains around his body, keeping him in place. He tongue tightened possessively and Sasuke felt himself being crushed, even as the light start to dance around him.

The golden eyes were narrowed in a glare and the shadows kept trying slink back over to Sasuke’s trapped form, but the light kept them away, circling around him merrily. But the dark refused to let him go, refused to let the light carry him away.

The golden eyes glared at the light and moved closer and closer to Sasuke’s trapped body until they stared at him. The wide mouth that hovered under the eyes got bigger, opened wider. The tongue started to lift him and drag him towards the mouth. He tried to scream still, tried to struggle, tried to reach for the light.

But he couldn’t make it.

He couldn’t escape.

And then he was seeing sharp, pointed teeth, he was seeing darkness inside the mouth, he was hearing the voices again.

“Sasuke! Wake up! We’re at the hospital! You have to wake up, Sasuke.”

The same voice that brought the light, even fainter than before. He tried to listen to it, tried to wake up. He wanted so much to wake up. He wanted to get away from the darkness, wanted to crawl back to the light, the light that danced right out of his reach. But he couldn’t make it.

And then it was too late.

And the mouth swallowed him whole.