Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ *Untitled* ❯ Pt.4 ( Chapter 4 )

A/N: Ok, this is just Tai's POV. Still gives references to the chapters before this one but not really anything new. Still dark and evil, but I'm not in such an evil, depressed mood to make it worse than it is. Well, enjoy or not.

Warnings: Torture, Abuse, slight NCS, and so on...

*Untitled*

Pt. 4

My eyes watched distantly as if doing so entirely would draw my last strands of sanity into oblivion. Blood dripped and oozed freely down my wrist and hand in pools of the crimson essence falling and staining all within it's torturous path. Little stings of pain filled my body making me shake and tremble in my seat with tears of helplessness flooding my senses blurring my already cloudy eyes. I tried desperately to turn away and refuse to watch what was taking place, but my eyes were glued and body was Jell-O refusing to move in fear of more horrible pain and abuse. Every ounce of my courage simply evaded me and turned into cowardice and unimaginable hurt, loathsomeness, anger, depression, and above all betrayal.

Nothing could ever be the same and all the while I knew I would never truly be who I wished all thanks to one blind call of lust on the monsters part. My body was sheathed with scars and bruises that would never truly be ridden from me. All cuts, scrapes, and blood loss could never compensate for the terrible torture my mind has been through. Within the confines of three days my life has come to a complete halt and wishes for death taking place of friends, soccer, graduation, life overall, and what little family I could reliably say loved me.

Mind games, and body pleasures and pain seemed to be all he wished in my life and in the end I always question why he had me in the first place. Was I only created for the purpose of keeping his disgusting self happy like a pleasure slave and whore. Or was I just a mistake after all and all this is really my fault for making there lives miserable. My mother must have wanted me, I could always feel warm and safe in her arms as she gently rocked me to sleep, or told me bedtime stories. But was that just a sick lie? Did she really do that to hinder my insight on what would truly become of me in the end? Was that what love is suppose to feel like; her warm caresses and kisses upon my temple or is it the excruciating pain of being violated and beaten what love is suppose to be? I can still hear her warm voice in my ears and Kari's soothing chibified laughter almost making my heart melt then only to be turned into my own screams of horror and smacks against my flesh turning me into one huge bruise. I could see the love or what I thought was love in my mother's and sister's eyes, but when looking into my father's all I could see was evil, anger, lust, and blaming of my existence in his cold oh so cold eyes.

I really don't know what to make of things now. All I can do now is hold on to what keeps me sane through all this insanity and mind blowing crisis. I can feel my eyelids finally drop and brain rush toward my ever waiting and light filled darkness that burns through my veins and heart. A nice haze covers me, drowning me in my own thoughts and wavering feelings as I'm pulled willing into the deep recesses of my mind. My throat makes a soft grunt as my lips murmur something non-logical into the air. I'm almost into my special place when a sickening snap comes across my horrible bruised cheek shattering any chance that could draw my peace to me, bringing me full force back to reality. Tears trickle down my pale face, and I let them do so as if the waterfall with eventually cleanse me.

"No sleeping my lil toy." My worst nightmare says in a deep, humorous yet sarcastic voice that makes my blood boil, and body convulse under his grip.

Masculine hands mirror in my eyes as harsh tugs and pulls seep through my fair skin. Every movement of the other could be felt deep within my flesh as a tiny, un-sharp and rusted needle lined with grotesque, un-bidding thread zipped right through me, molding and plastering my attempt at release back together. His attempt to treat me here with no anesthetic and the right tools and sterilization makes the bile deep within my throat almost come to be.

I know this isn't what is required for healing a slashed wrist and yet he refuses to hear me out and take me to a hospital. I don't know whether I'm happy about that and pray it gets infected so I'll get sick and hopefully die but I know he won't let it get that far. I shake my head and let my drained and flat brown hair fall in my face, which covers my scars so delicately it's almost laughable. As the minutes draw on in long eternities in my eyes, I can clearly see the sadly created stitches forming along my slashed wrist as blood still flows freely through the cut.

I no longer can feel the needle pass threw my skin as I sway on the side of the tub in which I sit. Sure I know it's there and can feel each time it snips through my torn skin, but that matters not anymore. My mind simply refuses to surface and trigger the nerves that send pain, and for that I am grateful. The blood loss is clearly visible yet he seems to not understand this. If my skin were to turn even whiter I would look like a ghost and yet that seems to be an accurate description of me at the moment. I'm a ghost of a shell of my once self and now only lays the broken part of the lies which have stained my soul. And as a ghost or spirit I wish I could merely disappear.

He's done with his artwork as I so put it, as I can feel his warm breath against my skin once again. I gulp and shiver making him smirk strangely at me and in the end I know he is truly angry with me. My eyes close tightly as the man I once called father brings my attempt at suicide up to his lips and kisses the bloody stitches one by one. Right now all I want to do is flee and hide in a corner as well as rip those stupid confines away but once again I'm held in his tight grip. I can feel myself slide against the slick edge of the tub, trying to get away from his touches, but yet again I know it is inevitable.

Consciousness is surly evaporating from me and still my father ventures forth. He drops my wrist, which feels extremely heavy, moving his hands all across my naked skin, feeling and tasting all that he can. Large goose bumps arrive and I bite my lip as he lets his fingers and lips dash and rub my inner thighs moving ever so slower to my arousal making me almost vomit right there. Which would almost be worth it, to see my stomach contents on his face and shoes, but the aftermath would be massive. In the end I know what will take place, and I no longer can resist and pull away with myself being so cold, and dead inside. His words once again shatter the dream of escape anytime soon sending my mind is a swirl letting my face contort into a sad frown so sickly that would make anyone cringe at the sight.

"Forever mine, slut." He whispers in my ear and then purposely bites my neck so hard it begins to drip more of my blood in which he eagerly lets his tongue lick off.

I'm surprised I can even bleed more for how faint I feel as the pints continue to drip away from me and yet he seems to find more ways to draw me into his hell. My body truly is gone now as my mind is sure to soon follow and all I can ask now as he continues to laugh and play with my body is 'Why would any father do this to there son?' and 'Where are you okaasan?'