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Jul. 9th, 2007 11:40 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliI’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to write a new chapter of Mea Culpa, but I’ve had a lot of RL issues to deal with but hopefully it appears the muses are finally back. I intend to see MC through to the end, so thank you to everyone who’s read – and is still reading this!
Title: Mea Culpa
Author: Imogen
Disclaimer: Don’t know them. Completely made up. No profit made.
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: VigOrli (central pairing); Orlando/OC; mentions of Orlando/Kate
Summary: Abuse ruins everyone’s lives. Who picks up the pieces?
Warnings: Domestic abuse, rape, violence, attempted suicide
Feedback: Is truly invaluable and each bit is cherished
Note:I’ve got a few very basic manips that I’ll posting at my Lj in a couple of days if any one is interested. Also I am finally compiling a fic index at my Lj that should be ready in a couple of days if anyone wants to check it out.
‘Please come back. I need you’
That had been the over-riding message for the past few days…or was it weeks now? He sometimes found he lost track of time. Easy to do when you lived in a vacuum. Nothing was real here; his life, his friends all were fake, everything carefully choreographed to make sure he could ‘handle’ things, like a bloody baby. Were they afraid he would explode if people sometimes told him the truth?
…need you
That was the crux of the matter. Need. No one needed him. They might want him, Orlando was fully aware of that. Lots of people had wanted him for different things, but genuine and absolute need, never.
No one had ever said that to him. Oh, people had always whispered promises of love and of how beautiful he was. Promises of eternal love and devotion were all well and good, but it hadn’t made people stay, had it? He hadn’t even been able to cling to Mark, who hated him, believed him to be weak and pathetic. Maybe he was pathetic. Why would Viggo want to go back to that? Every relationship had failed. Every. Single. One. He remembered once asking Beanie if there was something wrong with him, why everyone wanted to leave him? Was he unlovable? Why did people like hurting him? Sean had given sad chuckle; if anyone understood the heartache from failed relationships it was Sean. As he had held Orlando in his arms, unwanted tears trickling down Orlando’s face, Sean had promised- sworn- that it was not anything to do with Orlando. That Viggo was a bloody fool and for a while he was comforted by Sean’s words. Things seemed to slowly get better.
Then Kate came along. Neither had been looking for a relationship, Orlando not been willing to risk himself to potential heartbreak again, but somehow they had fallen into one. Casual coffee dates had become dinner dates that lead to...other things. Seeing the two up and coming actors, the press had pounced on them, making them the tabloid darlings. Pictures of them walking their dogs or shopping had become newsworthy items littering various magazines, scrutinising their every move and every touch.
Tired of the public scrutiny of his life, he’d let people read into their relationship what they wanted. It was no concern of theirs how he chose to live his life. Kate had been what he needed at the time. They’d been good for each other’s images in public and a comforting presence to each other in private, but it never became more than that, His heart wouldn’t allow it, no matter how much his head entreated and cajoled him into thinking otherwise. He’d never been one to listen to sound advice anyway.
He’d been adamant that no one would ever replace Viggo in his heart. They’d never talked about Viggo; she had her own baggage from previous relationships, and Kate seemed to understand that Orlando would never truly be hers.
It was not a relationship in the way he'd had with Viggo, or even Shannon, but it was comforting. It was predictable - safe. Kate understood the pressures of fame more than Viggo ever had. She hadn’t lost herself in art for days at a time or had worries about children. She didn’t worry about their love being ‘wrong'. She’d been a solid presence in his life, but then, somehow as slowly as they’d drifted together, something happened and suddenly it was over.
Ironically, it had been during a circulation of rumours of yet another supposed engagement between them, masterfully co-ordinated by Robin, to tie in with Orlando’s Oscar nomination. By then he’d given up making protests of her orchestrating his life; he’d even been amenable to an engagement by then. Maybe he would have married her given time. In truth, he was just tired. He’d wanted someone who loved him, just accepted him the way things were. No soul mates or true love, but just being there for him. Kate could do that but it had all gone awry.
Orlando didn’t love her, at least not the all-encompassing and ridiculous intensity that he’d held for Viggo. There was genuine fondness and a mutual respect but that was it, as if his heart was incapable of giving anything more for fear of being broken even more. Of course the crafted smiles she wore when they posed for the cameras, when they were being the tabloids darlings, told a different story. To the world they were in love and he did love her in a fashion but not like he knew he should love her.
He’d never explicitly stated it as such, not wanting to hurt Kate, but as the rumours abounded Kate had begun looking for more and looking to Orlando. She had soon realised he could never give her that. There would be no marriage or children for them, not in the way Kate wanted. For all her pragmatic attitude to their relationship, Kate had always wanted that little bit of fairy-tale romance that was promised by Disney and Hallmark. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t be her knight in shining armour or prince charming. Not now. Not ever.
Accepting his words and the weight behind them, she’d kissed him then and he’d felt his heart break a little more, but this time for Kate, realising that this was the end of them, yet another failed relationship to add to his repertoire. Part of him desperately wanted to cling to her, The idea of being alone again nearly freezing him and he was almost willing to blurt out promises he could not keep, so he held his tongue fast.
Orlando knew that he would never hold her in a relationship when she could be happy with someone else, someone who wasn't half broken inside. She deserved that. It had all been very civilised. They'd talked, cried a little, hugged and then it was over. No bitter tears or accusations. Their relationship had never been about that. There were none of the highs and lows that he'd experienced with Viggo, or the innocent and passionate conviction he'd felt with Shannon. Everyone always thought their first love would last forever, so with a smile and a heavy heart, he'd let her go. Not that's he'd really lost her, she was still an integral part of his life, but he was alone again. He never wished to be alone, had no desire to be an 'eternal bachelor', and watching his friends slowly settle down, have children, all the things he seemed to be denied. It made him wonder what was wrong with him and at first Mark had banished those worries.
Right from the beginning there'd been little room to doubt Mark's love for him. Some might have called it all consuming, even destructive, but to Orlando it had been heaven-sent.
Mark had loved him and that, to Orlando, had blinded him to a multitude of sins. He'd ignored early signs of possessiveness, because it made him feel wanted. He reasoned with himself that all lovers were possessive to a degree. After all, who liked their lover having temptation laid in their way, especially if they were considered too weak to fight or reject it?
Kate and Viggo had never really been possessive of him. Shannon got jealous and sulked when he danced with other women, but her anger never lasted, just as apparently neither did her affection for him.
With Viggo he imagined it would have been different. He’d been Orlando’s first male lover and didn’t know what to expect, or what Viggo expected from him. He vaguely recalled one night after some heavy partying that they’d done. Orlando’s alcohol consumption had been far more than usual, which culminated in a rather interesting gyrating dance between Dominic and Liv. Throughout all the antics, his lover had simply laughed and smiled indulgently, the possession he half expected to see in those eyes was nebulous.
Later that night, as they lay curled up against each other after their latest bout of love making, Orlando asked why Viggo didn’t get angry at the dance. Viggo had told Orlando there was no need of possession when you had trust, and his trust of Orlando had been absolute. Perhaps he was right, Orlando hadn't considered it much at the time. Strange how some wisdom didn't filter into the brain until it was past helping.
He could remember one of his friends at Guildhall once bemoaning that Orlando managed to have all the senior class and half the faculty drooling after him, even if it wasn’t intentional on his part. Why did people want to be beautiful? Beauty wasn’t any guarantee of happiness. In fact, since he’d become known it had caused him nothing but misery, people were either envious, intimidated or jealous. They didn’t bother to look at the person underneath, or perhaps it never occurred to them that he had his own insecurities, his own heartache.
No, Orlando Bloom had to have a charmed life. He was beautiful, talented, loved...people who he'd never met loved him, girls hung pictures of him on their walls, gazing dreamily at him, doodling 'Mrs Bloom' in notebooks, his friends loved him, his family did. Co-stars had been more than generous in their assessment of Orlando, both in personality and skill of his craft, but it hadn't meant anything because the person who was supposed to love him, supposed to want him, didn't. All those whispered endearments and looks of adoration didn't mean anything. Had his lovers said them because they were required or expected of them? Had any of them loved him at all?
Shannon
Viggo
Kate
Mark
The list whirled round in his mind until he felt like screaming and maybe he was, inside his head. Why had they left him? Shannon's infidelity had crushed him. Viggo picked up the pieces, wrapped him up in a fairytale love then dumped him into reality head first. Kate had picked up the pieces of that disaster, until she'd got a better offer, too. Mark tried to mend him as best he could, and then something in Mark had snapped in him, made him break Orlando. Could he blame Mark for that? who could attempt to fix such a shattered heart?
If he'd been broken before Mark, what did it matter if Mark shattered him some more, all he really did was bring that broken facade to view. At least until Mark had whispered it one night, long before their relationship had descended into bitter tears and hidden bruises, when they were still happy. Those three words had bound him to Mark, closer than promises of love and eternity. That someone needed him. A lot was whispered to him at night; murmurs between forgotten lovers. All those ridiculous promises they made each other about love being eternal, that nothing would break them apart, that nothing had ever felt like this, that he was ‘the One’. What was he, a bloody angel? Why did people give promises they couldn’t keep? Everyone lied, stretched the truth, that was human nature after all. Truth didn’t sit well with people. They liked things ordered, predictable, pre-boxed in neat categories. Life rarely accommodated that wish.
He sometimes wondered if it would be easier to just give up, not like he had tried to before in the bathroom, his friends were all too aware of that danger. God forbid they left him alone to take a sleeping pill or hold a butter knife, and just leave everything, everyone behind. They’d probably hate him, but hey, what did it matter? After all, what possible pain could be added onto his shoulders right now? It sounded irresistibly tempting and he wondered what was stopping him. He certainly wasn’t happy here anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. Mark had always suggested, and occasionally demanded, they go back to England. He’d never felt settled in America, something that Orlando shared to an extent. No, not settled, Mark had hated America. Too many people, too many pretty people, too many people willing to give or take what they needed to succeed. Just too much temptation.
He wanted to go home, had wanted to for a long time. To be able to hide away and not have rampant speculation over his love life or his mental state. Oh yes, his friends had tried to hide the tabloid gossip from him. They hadn’t done a very good job though. All the papers wanted to know what was going on with their Golden Boy…why couldn’t they just leave him alone for once? He was an actor, not a performing monkey. His life wasn’t entertainment for the masses, even if his life sometimes felt like a Grecian tragedy. It wasn’t public property. He’s gone to great lengths to make that very clear. It was the one bit of himself he could still keep and even that was slipping through his fingers now.
He suddenly felt an ache for his family. He missed them all so much, not even Dominic and Elijah could fill that gap right now. There was a time when they were enough for him, but that time had long past. Their friendship had changed. They were backing away from him, no doubt feeling that their presence was no longer essential. Was it because Viggo was back? He didn’t want to loose them, he still needed them, now more than ever. Only Dominic and Elijah had any idea what he had gone through in those four years. No one, not even Viggo, could understand that, had seen him being destroyed day by day.
Viggo. What a mess that was turning out to be. That kiss was supposed to be a new start Love would be the obvious answer, after all wasn’t that what he’d always wanted from Viggo? But then love hadn’t been enough for them. It hadn’t been enough to make Viggo stay and give them a chance. It hadn’t been enough for Mark to stop hitting him, raping him…yes he was finally able to admit that, if only in his head. Maybe he could work this out on his own. Did he really need to involve anyone else in his problems? Elijah had been subtly suggesting he go to a councillor. He’d joked given that he was an actor in Hollywood, it would be no big deal. Orlando hadn’t been able to laugh at that.
Seeking help was too…it was something he just couldn’t do. He would be forced to confront everything that had happened to him… how he’d mucked up every major relationship he’d had, how he, a grown man, who’d had countless movies with bows, swords and boxing, couldn’t defend himself against his boyfriend. That he couldn’t push Mark off him when he was too tired for sex. He’d let Mark have what he wanted each time, be it pain or a shag. How could he tell a stranger that, the most personal and shameful parts of his life, knowing he was constantly being judged? Besides, who would believe Orlando Bloom, ‘international heartthrob’ could hold down a relationship, that his partners cheated on him, left him and beat him? Besides, he was an actor, it was his job to make the imaginary real. Perhaps he was just ‘acting’ the part of an abused partner. He really wasn’t sure about anything any more.
A part of him wanted to help Mark, truly believed that if he could just reach Mark in some way, remind him of who he was, then things would be different. Mark would get the help he needed because he loved Orlando. They could stop playing these painful games with each other and just be themselves again. They could be Mark and Orlando without all their past coming back to haunt him, but just who’s past that was, Orlando couldn’t say. After all, didn’t everyone have a few skeletons in their closest?
Of course, that wasn’t the full reason he wanted to help Mark. He knew deep down, that a new start was impossible, too much hatred and recriminations were there, always waiting to surface, and they would never let go. Mark would never forgive him for the desertion when he needed him most, not once but twice. Mark could have forgiven him the first time, after all that had been at Dominic and Elijah’s behest, but this time, no one had forced Orlando to swallow those pills, to slit one of his wrists. That had been entirely his decision and contrary to what some people thought, he’d been fully aware of what he was doing.
He’d become so sick of trying, of fighting, so he just stopped, and for a few wonderful moments, there had been no pain, just an unworldly calm. He’d been so close to leaving it all behind, then Dominic had rushed in and he and Elijah had saved the day, saved their friend. Why hadn’t they just let him die? Did they think he was happy living like this, neither able to love Viggo or escape Mark, and unable to give either up completely?
Yes, he couldn’t give up his abuser. There was a part of him that still desperately needed Mark. Mark had been right about that, about both of them. Considering how blind Mark was in some areas it almost frightened Orlando how astute the man could be towards his emotions. He could still remember that day when he’d reached the breaking point. What had it been about that time that had pushed him over the edge? In reality it was little over a couple of months ago but it seemed an eternity had passed since then. So much had happened in that short space of time and now to have Viggo and Mark in his life. It was simply too much. Things would be so much easier if he could just gather up the strength to leave, go to England and try to forget these two men who were controlling his life albeit in different ways. Despite Dominic and Elijah’s attempts, he was all too aware of the media intrusion that had started and it was only a matter of time before his life became public property once again. So far Robin had managed to successfully keep people away. He knew all too well how intimidating she could be
The unexpected phone call from the previous day still rattled around in his head. Orlando had frozen as the words sunk in. Amends. He wanted to make amends. He’d never said those words to Orlando before, not once. Mark had said a lot of things to him in the years they had been together. He’d wanted explanations, guarantees of love, promises of fidelity, promises of forgiveness, of comfort, but not once had he sought to repair the damage he’d caused Orlando, them. What had suddenly happened to give Mark this change of heart? A part of him knew he shouldn’t be surprised. His lover...former lover… had always been unpredictable. Viggo shared, that too (probably the only trait they shared), but not in the same way. Viggo’s manifested itself in creativity, while Mark’s was in emotions. At one time, early in their relationship, that had been a turn on to Orlando- an unpredictable lover had lead to some very interesting and imaginative scenario’s in the bedroom, the kitchen and even the study…but then it stopped being fun. It became frightening.
Orlando found he couldn’t control Mark’s irrationalities and no amount of reassurances, apologies and begging – on both their parts seemed to make any difference. Too much angered Mark with each passing day, and when Orlando’s clothes or manners didn’t manage to raise Mark’s ire, something else would – a traffic jam, a snotty actor, his favourite team loosing and Orlando was forced to bare the brunt of it. The mornings had been greeted with a sickening knot in his stomach and dread in his heart that he didn’t know whether the new day would bring a new bruise when feeling Mark’s fingers trail over his skin with each passing moment he was waiting...just waiting.
The gnawing fear had become a constant presence in his gut and had slowly eaten away at Orlando and the fear and anxiety became a permanent fixture in his life, ingrained in his mind and behaviour. You hit a dog long enough it learns to fear its owner. Orlando felt like that dog. Perhaps not on the surface because there things were getting better. He was venturing out into the big bad world again and the shapeless black holes he referred to clothes were slowly migrating in the back of his wardrobe although Viggo had yet to wean him back onto other colours, or anything remotely ‘attractive’, at least in Viggo’s opinion. It was a step, they all were. Viggo assured him it was good, but for someone who wasn’t used to stepping through life but jumping in with his eyes closed, it was cowing. Even now, without Mark on hand to daily remind him of his failures, the voices still inhabited his head, whispering, jibing.
Why didn’t Dom and Elijah have to find him? He was so very close to ending this misery. Why?
He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, if his friends could hear him, they’d probably put him right back in the hospital on that damn suicide watch again. That had not been a pleasant experience; to be watched every second, to have people watch your expressions, trying to gauge your thoughts, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Privacy was something that was important to him. His life was his own affair, so much of his life seemed to be lived through a lens he could barely stand it. He had Robin to thank that his suicide attempt hadn’t been splashed across the front pages. Oh the British press would’ve had a field day at that juicy revelation. Poor little Orli unable to cope with the pressures of life. Just the very suggestion made him seem like a spoilt little diva. Of course the very phrase ‘exhaustion’ immediately conjured up drug and alcohol problems with the general public. Robin had been fearsome in her defence of her favourite client. She had ‘suggested’ that Orlando might like to make a couple of pre-arranged trips to places were a photographer could ‘accidentally’ capture how well he was looking and thereby dispel any such nonsense, and prove in this case exhaustion was just that.
So far he’d refused, well truthfully it wasn’t him doing the refusing. It was Viggo. He’d channelled a lot of calls for his ex over the past few days without Orlando asking him. A part of Orlando felt he should be annoyed at Viggo for being so presumptuous in thinking that he couldn’t handle talking to his own agent, but the other part of him was just too exhausted to care.
Everything in his life seemed like a battle, and he was sick of it. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so alone and lost in his life. How was he supposed to live the rest of his life like this, in constant doubt of himself? It was driving him insane.
The conversation with Mark swirled round in his head endlessly. Maybe it would’ve been easier if he’d just stayed. At least he knew what life was like with Mark. He didn’t have that luxury with Viggo. He couldn’t begin to imagine what his life would be like now if he and Viggo were still together. He doubted somehow that they’d had come out yet and that thought bothered him. Had Viggo been ashamed of him? He remembered the kiss that he’d slapped on Viggo in front of the camera, claiming he was ‘human scum’. Viggo had insisted he didn’t mind but had been extremely quiet to Orlando and had avoided him for the rest of the evening. Remembering the incident suddenly made Orlando’s cheeks flame with mortification. Viggo had simply been too polite to tell Orlando to back off in front of the cameras. He’d been ashamed of Orlando. Ashamed of them.
What hope was there for them now? Their relationship had been so natural and easy in New Zealand, no one questioned it but in the real world, Viggo was right. Everything he’d said that day he broke up with Orlando, he hadn’t wanted to believe any of it but that didn’t make it any the less true.
What was Viggo doing here? What were Dominic and Elijah doing here? They should be out living their lives, not holed up with Orlando struggling to help him get his life back on track. It wasn’t like they’d even made any progress. Why were they all putting on this ridiculous charade of trying to jolly Orli out of his melancholy? Perhaps Mark was right, maybe they didn’t know him; couldn’t help him.
Suddenly his body seemed to move of it’s own volition, and he reached for the phone. An all too familiar number was punched in.
The phone was answered on the second ring. He had been expecting Orlando to call.
“Orlando?” the voice sounded so foreign, yet strangely welcome.
“I….I don’t know why I called.” It might have been a lie, or the truth. Orlando had difficulty in distinguishing between them recently.
“It doesn’t matter why. I miss you, your voice. Are you coming back home?”
There was a defining silence as Orlando considered the question.
Home was meant to be safe, familiar. Mark was certainly familiar but not safe. He had no idea why he was doing this. He should be changing his number so Mark couldn’t ring. He should be starting his life again without him. Why was he doing this? Mark would only hurt him again, and again. No amount of promises would keep him safe. Dom was right. One day something would make Mark mad and he’d go too far. He knew all of that, but he was still ringing him.
“No. I can’t. We…I…we’re not together any more Mark,”
He couldn’t believe he’d said those words to Mark. Using up all his courage, not waiting for Mark to respond, he ploughed on.
“I’m not coming back to you. You said you wanted forgiveness, to make amends. I want to do that. I can’t live like this. As much as I want to, I can’t hate you, because a part of me still…cares for you, and I hate it. I hate that you still matter to me. I hate that I still want you to hold me, and at the same time I want to run away from it. I hate it and I hate you.”
The words were coming out faster now, in an incoherent jumble. Tears mingled the words making them almost incompressible.
“I hate that you hate Viggo, and I hate him too, and I hate Dom and Lij for bringing me back. I hate everyone so much right now, but most of all I hate that I think I still love you.”
There was a dead silence on the other end of the phone. Orlando savagely rubbed his face, hating the falling tears. He was a little appalled at his confessions to Mark. Why did he tell him that? Lij and Dom would say it was giving Mark power over him, after all wasn’t knowledge related to power? The more Mark knew about him, the more he could control him. Maybe deep down he wanted to be controlled, enjoyed being hurt, deserved it even. He couldn’t seem to make anyone happy, so it stood to reason that he wasn’t allowed to be happy either.
“You still love me?” the response was quiet. There was no victorious or smug intonation in the voice.
Orlando blinked. Did he love Mark? He’d told him so, numerous times during their relationship, but the most fervent exclamations had come either when Orlando stroked his former lover hair while asleep, or more usually when Mark kicked him in the gut or pinned his against a door, hand squeezing his throat. He’d never really said the words in a ‘just because’ sort of way, like lovers were supposed to do.
“I don’t know,” came the whispered response. “I don’t seem to know much of anything anymore.”
“Orlando…we can help each other, we were good together we’re we? We had so many good days. I still love you. I always will. I know you didn’t think I did. I sometimes don’t think I’ll be able to live without you. I said I wanted your forgiveness, to make amends. I wasn’t lying about that. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe that, to believe in me again. I need to prove to you how serious I am. I’m not just saying this to get you back with me. Things are going to change. My…friends, they’re gone, all of them-“
“What?” Orlando felt a chill run up his spine. He could still remember Mark’s threat to share him among his friends. Mark forcing himself on Orlando was one thing. He could just about stand that. It had hurt every time, been humiliating and each time he felt something die in him as Mark held him down.
But his ‘friends’ were different. They were much worse than Mark, enjoyed inflicting pain in more ways than Mark had ever done. Mark might have hurt him badly, but at least he was sorry afterwards. Mark’s friends weren’t like that. He still remembered the looks in their eyes as they had occasionally run a finger along him when Mark wasn’t looking. They’d enjoyed his fear, thrived on it even.
He knew from their ‘talks’ to Orlando, when they’d sidled up on occasion, what kind of stuff they were into and it wasn’t pretty.
Orlando could handle a bit of rough sex, even a bit of kink was OK – although he definitely had strict limits when it came to that, but their type was different. They didn’t just blur the edges of pain and pleasure. They ignored them completely. Pleasure was for them, pain for their ‘partner’. They enjoyed humiliating, the feeling of power it gave them. He could still remember their smiles as he flinched when any of them would casually touch them, whispering what they’d like to do to him given the chance. For a long time, Mark’s possessiveness had been a shield against them but later his threats to make him ‘serve’ his friends had only compounded that fear so much it had almost crippled him both physically and emotionally.
Mark had always been rougher when he’d been around his friends. He became angrier. The hitting would be harsher, the words more malicious the blaming more acidic. They were like a pack of hyenas or something, thriving off the misery off others. That Mark was willing to ditch them surprised and elated Orlando in a way he couldn’t explain and was afraid to examine.
“I’ve left them. They said some pretty bad things to me-“
“What kind of…bad?” For Mark to admit that, it must’ve been beyond bad, especially given the things Mark had said and called him over the years.
“I don’t want to repeat it, and you don’t deserve to hear the crap they said. I’ve had it with them. You were right, they don’t give a damn about me. I thought I could trust them; was sure I could, but I guess I was wrong. They don’t matter. I don’t need them and they won’t be coming back, I promise. I’m getting some help as well. You were right about that. It’s difficult to admit to yourself, let alone anyone else that I’ve got some problems, but I know I do. I know what I did to you was wrong, and unforgivable but I need to try and make it up to you if I can. Can I meet you somewhere? I have to do this Orlando. I need your forgiveness. We have to have forgiveness to move on. I want you to be happy more than anything. Please say you’ll meet me even if it’s just this once. Just you and me with no one else trying to interfere. Please?”
Orlando took in everything Mark said with disbelief. He was really getting help. This wasn’t just a way of getting Orlando back in the house and bolting it behind them.
Mark was right about forgiveness. Neither of them could move on until Orlando forgave him. But could he do that? Could he meet with the man who’d caused him so much pain and forgive him? Forgive him for each bruise, for costing him his friends? For raping him and making him afraid of his own shadow? For stealing his life? How could you forgive that?
The moment’s silence seemed like an eternity before he finally answered in barely a whisper.
“OK”
TBC
Title: Mea Culpa
Author: Imogen
Disclaimer: Don’t know them. Completely made up. No profit made.
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: VigOrli (central pairing); Orlando/OC; mentions of Orlando/Kate
Summary: Abuse ruins everyone’s lives. Who picks up the pieces?
Warnings: Domestic abuse, rape, violence, attempted suicide
Feedback: Is truly invaluable and each bit is cherished
Note:I’ve got a few very basic manips that I’ll posting at my Lj in a couple of days if any one is interested. Also I am finally compiling a fic index at my Lj that should be ready in a couple of days if anyone wants to check it out.
‘Please come back. I need you’
That had been the over-riding message for the past few days…or was it weeks now? He sometimes found he lost track of time. Easy to do when you lived in a vacuum. Nothing was real here; his life, his friends all were fake, everything carefully choreographed to make sure he could ‘handle’ things, like a bloody baby. Were they afraid he would explode if people sometimes told him the truth?
…need you
That was the crux of the matter. Need. No one needed him. They might want him, Orlando was fully aware of that. Lots of people had wanted him for different things, but genuine and absolute need, never.
No one had ever said that to him. Oh, people had always whispered promises of love and of how beautiful he was. Promises of eternal love and devotion were all well and good, but it hadn’t made people stay, had it? He hadn’t even been able to cling to Mark, who hated him, believed him to be weak and pathetic. Maybe he was pathetic. Why would Viggo want to go back to that? Every relationship had failed. Every. Single. One. He remembered once asking Beanie if there was something wrong with him, why everyone wanted to leave him? Was he unlovable? Why did people like hurting him? Sean had given sad chuckle; if anyone understood the heartache from failed relationships it was Sean. As he had held Orlando in his arms, unwanted tears trickling down Orlando’s face, Sean had promised- sworn- that it was not anything to do with Orlando. That Viggo was a bloody fool and for a while he was comforted by Sean’s words. Things seemed to slowly get better.
Then Kate came along. Neither had been looking for a relationship, Orlando not been willing to risk himself to potential heartbreak again, but somehow they had fallen into one. Casual coffee dates had become dinner dates that lead to...other things. Seeing the two up and coming actors, the press had pounced on them, making them the tabloid darlings. Pictures of them walking their dogs or shopping had become newsworthy items littering various magazines, scrutinising their every move and every touch.
Tired of the public scrutiny of his life, he’d let people read into their relationship what they wanted. It was no concern of theirs how he chose to live his life. Kate had been what he needed at the time. They’d been good for each other’s images in public and a comforting presence to each other in private, but it never became more than that, His heart wouldn’t allow it, no matter how much his head entreated and cajoled him into thinking otherwise. He’d never been one to listen to sound advice anyway.
He’d been adamant that no one would ever replace Viggo in his heart. They’d never talked about Viggo; she had her own baggage from previous relationships, and Kate seemed to understand that Orlando would never truly be hers.
It was not a relationship in the way he'd had with Viggo, or even Shannon, but it was comforting. It was predictable - safe. Kate understood the pressures of fame more than Viggo ever had. She hadn’t lost herself in art for days at a time or had worries about children. She didn’t worry about their love being ‘wrong'. She’d been a solid presence in his life, but then, somehow as slowly as they’d drifted together, something happened and suddenly it was over.
Ironically, it had been during a circulation of rumours of yet another supposed engagement between them, masterfully co-ordinated by Robin, to tie in with Orlando’s Oscar nomination. By then he’d given up making protests of her orchestrating his life; he’d even been amenable to an engagement by then. Maybe he would have married her given time. In truth, he was just tired. He’d wanted someone who loved him, just accepted him the way things were. No soul mates or true love, but just being there for him. Kate could do that but it had all gone awry.
Orlando didn’t love her, at least not the all-encompassing and ridiculous intensity that he’d held for Viggo. There was genuine fondness and a mutual respect but that was it, as if his heart was incapable of giving anything more for fear of being broken even more. Of course the crafted smiles she wore when they posed for the cameras, when they were being the tabloids darlings, told a different story. To the world they were in love and he did love her in a fashion but not like he knew he should love her.
He’d never explicitly stated it as such, not wanting to hurt Kate, but as the rumours abounded Kate had begun looking for more and looking to Orlando. She had soon realised he could never give her that. There would be no marriage or children for them, not in the way Kate wanted. For all her pragmatic attitude to their relationship, Kate had always wanted that little bit of fairy-tale romance that was promised by Disney and Hallmark. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t be her knight in shining armour or prince charming. Not now. Not ever.
Accepting his words and the weight behind them, she’d kissed him then and he’d felt his heart break a little more, but this time for Kate, realising that this was the end of them, yet another failed relationship to add to his repertoire. Part of him desperately wanted to cling to her, The idea of being alone again nearly freezing him and he was almost willing to blurt out promises he could not keep, so he held his tongue fast.
Orlando knew that he would never hold her in a relationship when she could be happy with someone else, someone who wasn't half broken inside. She deserved that. It had all been very civilised. They'd talked, cried a little, hugged and then it was over. No bitter tears or accusations. Their relationship had never been about that. There were none of the highs and lows that he'd experienced with Viggo, or the innocent and passionate conviction he'd felt with Shannon. Everyone always thought their first love would last forever, so with a smile and a heavy heart, he'd let her go. Not that's he'd really lost her, she was still an integral part of his life, but he was alone again. He never wished to be alone, had no desire to be an 'eternal bachelor', and watching his friends slowly settle down, have children, all the things he seemed to be denied. It made him wonder what was wrong with him and at first Mark had banished those worries.
Right from the beginning there'd been little room to doubt Mark's love for him. Some might have called it all consuming, even destructive, but to Orlando it had been heaven-sent.
Mark had loved him and that, to Orlando, had blinded him to a multitude of sins. He'd ignored early signs of possessiveness, because it made him feel wanted. He reasoned with himself that all lovers were possessive to a degree. After all, who liked their lover having temptation laid in their way, especially if they were considered too weak to fight or reject it?
Kate and Viggo had never really been possessive of him. Shannon got jealous and sulked when he danced with other women, but her anger never lasted, just as apparently neither did her affection for him.
With Viggo he imagined it would have been different. He’d been Orlando’s first male lover and didn’t know what to expect, or what Viggo expected from him. He vaguely recalled one night after some heavy partying that they’d done. Orlando’s alcohol consumption had been far more than usual, which culminated in a rather interesting gyrating dance between Dominic and Liv. Throughout all the antics, his lover had simply laughed and smiled indulgently, the possession he half expected to see in those eyes was nebulous.
Later that night, as they lay curled up against each other after their latest bout of love making, Orlando asked why Viggo didn’t get angry at the dance. Viggo had told Orlando there was no need of possession when you had trust, and his trust of Orlando had been absolute. Perhaps he was right, Orlando hadn't considered it much at the time. Strange how some wisdom didn't filter into the brain until it was past helping.
He could remember one of his friends at Guildhall once bemoaning that Orlando managed to have all the senior class and half the faculty drooling after him, even if it wasn’t intentional on his part. Why did people want to be beautiful? Beauty wasn’t any guarantee of happiness. In fact, since he’d become known it had caused him nothing but misery, people were either envious, intimidated or jealous. They didn’t bother to look at the person underneath, or perhaps it never occurred to them that he had his own insecurities, his own heartache.
No, Orlando Bloom had to have a charmed life. He was beautiful, talented, loved...people who he'd never met loved him, girls hung pictures of him on their walls, gazing dreamily at him, doodling 'Mrs Bloom' in notebooks, his friends loved him, his family did. Co-stars had been more than generous in their assessment of Orlando, both in personality and skill of his craft, but it hadn't meant anything because the person who was supposed to love him, supposed to want him, didn't. All those whispered endearments and looks of adoration didn't mean anything. Had his lovers said them because they were required or expected of them? Had any of them loved him at all?
Shannon
Viggo
Kate
Mark
The list whirled round in his mind until he felt like screaming and maybe he was, inside his head. Why had they left him? Shannon's infidelity had crushed him. Viggo picked up the pieces, wrapped him up in a fairytale love then dumped him into reality head first. Kate had picked up the pieces of that disaster, until she'd got a better offer, too. Mark tried to mend him as best he could, and then something in Mark had snapped in him, made him break Orlando. Could he blame Mark for that? who could attempt to fix such a shattered heart?
If he'd been broken before Mark, what did it matter if Mark shattered him some more, all he really did was bring that broken facade to view. At least until Mark had whispered it one night, long before their relationship had descended into bitter tears and hidden bruises, when they were still happy. Those three words had bound him to Mark, closer than promises of love and eternity. That someone needed him. A lot was whispered to him at night; murmurs between forgotten lovers. All those ridiculous promises they made each other about love being eternal, that nothing would break them apart, that nothing had ever felt like this, that he was ‘the One’. What was he, a bloody angel? Why did people give promises they couldn’t keep? Everyone lied, stretched the truth, that was human nature after all. Truth didn’t sit well with people. They liked things ordered, predictable, pre-boxed in neat categories. Life rarely accommodated that wish.
He sometimes wondered if it would be easier to just give up, not like he had tried to before in the bathroom, his friends were all too aware of that danger. God forbid they left him alone to take a sleeping pill or hold a butter knife, and just leave everything, everyone behind. They’d probably hate him, but hey, what did it matter? After all, what possible pain could be added onto his shoulders right now? It sounded irresistibly tempting and he wondered what was stopping him. He certainly wasn’t happy here anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. Mark had always suggested, and occasionally demanded, they go back to England. He’d never felt settled in America, something that Orlando shared to an extent. No, not settled, Mark had hated America. Too many people, too many pretty people, too many people willing to give or take what they needed to succeed. Just too much temptation.
He wanted to go home, had wanted to for a long time. To be able to hide away and not have rampant speculation over his love life or his mental state. Oh yes, his friends had tried to hide the tabloid gossip from him. They hadn’t done a very good job though. All the papers wanted to know what was going on with their Golden Boy…why couldn’t they just leave him alone for once? He was an actor, not a performing monkey. His life wasn’t entertainment for the masses, even if his life sometimes felt like a Grecian tragedy. It wasn’t public property. He’s gone to great lengths to make that very clear. It was the one bit of himself he could still keep and even that was slipping through his fingers now.
He suddenly felt an ache for his family. He missed them all so much, not even Dominic and Elijah could fill that gap right now. There was a time when they were enough for him, but that time had long past. Their friendship had changed. They were backing away from him, no doubt feeling that their presence was no longer essential. Was it because Viggo was back? He didn’t want to loose them, he still needed them, now more than ever. Only Dominic and Elijah had any idea what he had gone through in those four years. No one, not even Viggo, could understand that, had seen him being destroyed day by day.
Viggo. What a mess that was turning out to be. That kiss was supposed to be a new start Love would be the obvious answer, after all wasn’t that what he’d always wanted from Viggo? But then love hadn’t been enough for them. It hadn’t been enough to make Viggo stay and give them a chance. It hadn’t been enough for Mark to stop hitting him, raping him…yes he was finally able to admit that, if only in his head. Maybe he could work this out on his own. Did he really need to involve anyone else in his problems? Elijah had been subtly suggesting he go to a councillor. He’d joked given that he was an actor in Hollywood, it would be no big deal. Orlando hadn’t been able to laugh at that.
Seeking help was too…it was something he just couldn’t do. He would be forced to confront everything that had happened to him… how he’d mucked up every major relationship he’d had, how he, a grown man, who’d had countless movies with bows, swords and boxing, couldn’t defend himself against his boyfriend. That he couldn’t push Mark off him when he was too tired for sex. He’d let Mark have what he wanted each time, be it pain or a shag. How could he tell a stranger that, the most personal and shameful parts of his life, knowing he was constantly being judged? Besides, who would believe Orlando Bloom, ‘international heartthrob’ could hold down a relationship, that his partners cheated on him, left him and beat him? Besides, he was an actor, it was his job to make the imaginary real. Perhaps he was just ‘acting’ the part of an abused partner. He really wasn’t sure about anything any more.
A part of him wanted to help Mark, truly believed that if he could just reach Mark in some way, remind him of who he was, then things would be different. Mark would get the help he needed because he loved Orlando. They could stop playing these painful games with each other and just be themselves again. They could be Mark and Orlando without all their past coming back to haunt him, but just who’s past that was, Orlando couldn’t say. After all, didn’t everyone have a few skeletons in their closest?
Of course, that wasn’t the full reason he wanted to help Mark. He knew deep down, that a new start was impossible, too much hatred and recriminations were there, always waiting to surface, and they would never let go. Mark would never forgive him for the desertion when he needed him most, not once but twice. Mark could have forgiven him the first time, after all that had been at Dominic and Elijah’s behest, but this time, no one had forced Orlando to swallow those pills, to slit one of his wrists. That had been entirely his decision and contrary to what some people thought, he’d been fully aware of what he was doing.
He’d become so sick of trying, of fighting, so he just stopped, and for a few wonderful moments, there had been no pain, just an unworldly calm. He’d been so close to leaving it all behind, then Dominic had rushed in and he and Elijah had saved the day, saved their friend. Why hadn’t they just let him die? Did they think he was happy living like this, neither able to love Viggo or escape Mark, and unable to give either up completely?
Yes, he couldn’t give up his abuser. There was a part of him that still desperately needed Mark. Mark had been right about that, about both of them. Considering how blind Mark was in some areas it almost frightened Orlando how astute the man could be towards his emotions. He could still remember that day when he’d reached the breaking point. What had it been about that time that had pushed him over the edge? In reality it was little over a couple of months ago but it seemed an eternity had passed since then. So much had happened in that short space of time and now to have Viggo and Mark in his life. It was simply too much. Things would be so much easier if he could just gather up the strength to leave, go to England and try to forget these two men who were controlling his life albeit in different ways. Despite Dominic and Elijah’s attempts, he was all too aware of the media intrusion that had started and it was only a matter of time before his life became public property once again. So far Robin had managed to successfully keep people away. He knew all too well how intimidating she could be
The unexpected phone call from the previous day still rattled around in his head. Orlando had frozen as the words sunk in. Amends. He wanted to make amends. He’d never said those words to Orlando before, not once. Mark had said a lot of things to him in the years they had been together. He’d wanted explanations, guarantees of love, promises of fidelity, promises of forgiveness, of comfort, but not once had he sought to repair the damage he’d caused Orlando, them. What had suddenly happened to give Mark this change of heart? A part of him knew he shouldn’t be surprised. His lover...former lover… had always been unpredictable. Viggo shared, that too (probably the only trait they shared), but not in the same way. Viggo’s manifested itself in creativity, while Mark’s was in emotions. At one time, early in their relationship, that had been a turn on to Orlando- an unpredictable lover had lead to some very interesting and imaginative scenario’s in the bedroom, the kitchen and even the study…but then it stopped being fun. It became frightening.
Orlando found he couldn’t control Mark’s irrationalities and no amount of reassurances, apologies and begging – on both their parts seemed to make any difference. Too much angered Mark with each passing day, and when Orlando’s clothes or manners didn’t manage to raise Mark’s ire, something else would – a traffic jam, a snotty actor, his favourite team loosing and Orlando was forced to bare the brunt of it. The mornings had been greeted with a sickening knot in his stomach and dread in his heart that he didn’t know whether the new day would bring a new bruise when feeling Mark’s fingers trail over his skin with each passing moment he was waiting...just waiting.
The gnawing fear had become a constant presence in his gut and had slowly eaten away at Orlando and the fear and anxiety became a permanent fixture in his life, ingrained in his mind and behaviour. You hit a dog long enough it learns to fear its owner. Orlando felt like that dog. Perhaps not on the surface because there things were getting better. He was venturing out into the big bad world again and the shapeless black holes he referred to clothes were slowly migrating in the back of his wardrobe although Viggo had yet to wean him back onto other colours, or anything remotely ‘attractive’, at least in Viggo’s opinion. It was a step, they all were. Viggo assured him it was good, but for someone who wasn’t used to stepping through life but jumping in with his eyes closed, it was cowing. Even now, without Mark on hand to daily remind him of his failures, the voices still inhabited his head, whispering, jibing.
Why didn’t Dom and Elijah have to find him? He was so very close to ending this misery. Why?
He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, if his friends could hear him, they’d probably put him right back in the hospital on that damn suicide watch again. That had not been a pleasant experience; to be watched every second, to have people watch your expressions, trying to gauge your thoughts, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Privacy was something that was important to him. His life was his own affair, so much of his life seemed to be lived through a lens he could barely stand it. He had Robin to thank that his suicide attempt hadn’t been splashed across the front pages. Oh the British press would’ve had a field day at that juicy revelation. Poor little Orli unable to cope with the pressures of life. Just the very suggestion made him seem like a spoilt little diva. Of course the very phrase ‘exhaustion’ immediately conjured up drug and alcohol problems with the general public. Robin had been fearsome in her defence of her favourite client. She had ‘suggested’ that Orlando might like to make a couple of pre-arranged trips to places were a photographer could ‘accidentally’ capture how well he was looking and thereby dispel any such nonsense, and prove in this case exhaustion was just that.
So far he’d refused, well truthfully it wasn’t him doing the refusing. It was Viggo. He’d channelled a lot of calls for his ex over the past few days without Orlando asking him. A part of Orlando felt he should be annoyed at Viggo for being so presumptuous in thinking that he couldn’t handle talking to his own agent, but the other part of him was just too exhausted to care.
Everything in his life seemed like a battle, and he was sick of it. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so alone and lost in his life. How was he supposed to live the rest of his life like this, in constant doubt of himself? It was driving him insane.
The conversation with Mark swirled round in his head endlessly. Maybe it would’ve been easier if he’d just stayed. At least he knew what life was like with Mark. He didn’t have that luxury with Viggo. He couldn’t begin to imagine what his life would be like now if he and Viggo were still together. He doubted somehow that they’d had come out yet and that thought bothered him. Had Viggo been ashamed of him? He remembered the kiss that he’d slapped on Viggo in front of the camera, claiming he was ‘human scum’. Viggo had insisted he didn’t mind but had been extremely quiet to Orlando and had avoided him for the rest of the evening. Remembering the incident suddenly made Orlando’s cheeks flame with mortification. Viggo had simply been too polite to tell Orlando to back off in front of the cameras. He’d been ashamed of Orlando. Ashamed of them.
What hope was there for them now? Their relationship had been so natural and easy in New Zealand, no one questioned it but in the real world, Viggo was right. Everything he’d said that day he broke up with Orlando, he hadn’t wanted to believe any of it but that didn’t make it any the less true.
What was Viggo doing here? What were Dominic and Elijah doing here? They should be out living their lives, not holed up with Orlando struggling to help him get his life back on track. It wasn’t like they’d even made any progress. Why were they all putting on this ridiculous charade of trying to jolly Orli out of his melancholy? Perhaps Mark was right, maybe they didn’t know him; couldn’t help him.
Suddenly his body seemed to move of it’s own volition, and he reached for the phone. An all too familiar number was punched in.
The phone was answered on the second ring. He had been expecting Orlando to call.
“Orlando?” the voice sounded so foreign, yet strangely welcome.
“I….I don’t know why I called.” It might have been a lie, or the truth. Orlando had difficulty in distinguishing between them recently.
“It doesn’t matter why. I miss you, your voice. Are you coming back home?”
There was a defining silence as Orlando considered the question.
Home was meant to be safe, familiar. Mark was certainly familiar but not safe. He had no idea why he was doing this. He should be changing his number so Mark couldn’t ring. He should be starting his life again without him. Why was he doing this? Mark would only hurt him again, and again. No amount of promises would keep him safe. Dom was right. One day something would make Mark mad and he’d go too far. He knew all of that, but he was still ringing him.
“No. I can’t. We…I…we’re not together any more Mark,”
He couldn’t believe he’d said those words to Mark. Using up all his courage, not waiting for Mark to respond, he ploughed on.
“I’m not coming back to you. You said you wanted forgiveness, to make amends. I want to do that. I can’t live like this. As much as I want to, I can’t hate you, because a part of me still…cares for you, and I hate it. I hate that you still matter to me. I hate that I still want you to hold me, and at the same time I want to run away from it. I hate it and I hate you.”
The words were coming out faster now, in an incoherent jumble. Tears mingled the words making them almost incompressible.
“I hate that you hate Viggo, and I hate him too, and I hate Dom and Lij for bringing me back. I hate everyone so much right now, but most of all I hate that I think I still love you.”
There was a dead silence on the other end of the phone. Orlando savagely rubbed his face, hating the falling tears. He was a little appalled at his confessions to Mark. Why did he tell him that? Lij and Dom would say it was giving Mark power over him, after all wasn’t knowledge related to power? The more Mark knew about him, the more he could control him. Maybe deep down he wanted to be controlled, enjoyed being hurt, deserved it even. He couldn’t seem to make anyone happy, so it stood to reason that he wasn’t allowed to be happy either.
“You still love me?” the response was quiet. There was no victorious or smug intonation in the voice.
Orlando blinked. Did he love Mark? He’d told him so, numerous times during their relationship, but the most fervent exclamations had come either when Orlando stroked his former lover hair while asleep, or more usually when Mark kicked him in the gut or pinned his against a door, hand squeezing his throat. He’d never really said the words in a ‘just because’ sort of way, like lovers were supposed to do.
“I don’t know,” came the whispered response. “I don’t seem to know much of anything anymore.”
“Orlando…we can help each other, we were good together we’re we? We had so many good days. I still love you. I always will. I know you didn’t think I did. I sometimes don’t think I’ll be able to live without you. I said I wanted your forgiveness, to make amends. I wasn’t lying about that. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe that, to believe in me again. I need to prove to you how serious I am. I’m not just saying this to get you back with me. Things are going to change. My…friends, they’re gone, all of them-“
“What?” Orlando felt a chill run up his spine. He could still remember Mark’s threat to share him among his friends. Mark forcing himself on Orlando was one thing. He could just about stand that. It had hurt every time, been humiliating and each time he felt something die in him as Mark held him down.
But his ‘friends’ were different. They were much worse than Mark, enjoyed inflicting pain in more ways than Mark had ever done. Mark might have hurt him badly, but at least he was sorry afterwards. Mark’s friends weren’t like that. He still remembered the looks in their eyes as they had occasionally run a finger along him when Mark wasn’t looking. They’d enjoyed his fear, thrived on it even.
He knew from their ‘talks’ to Orlando, when they’d sidled up on occasion, what kind of stuff they were into and it wasn’t pretty.
Orlando could handle a bit of rough sex, even a bit of kink was OK – although he definitely had strict limits when it came to that, but their type was different. They didn’t just blur the edges of pain and pleasure. They ignored them completely. Pleasure was for them, pain for their ‘partner’. They enjoyed humiliating, the feeling of power it gave them. He could still remember their smiles as he flinched when any of them would casually touch them, whispering what they’d like to do to him given the chance. For a long time, Mark’s possessiveness had been a shield against them but later his threats to make him ‘serve’ his friends had only compounded that fear so much it had almost crippled him both physically and emotionally.
Mark had always been rougher when he’d been around his friends. He became angrier. The hitting would be harsher, the words more malicious the blaming more acidic. They were like a pack of hyenas or something, thriving off the misery off others. That Mark was willing to ditch them surprised and elated Orlando in a way he couldn’t explain and was afraid to examine.
“I’ve left them. They said some pretty bad things to me-“
“What kind of…bad?” For Mark to admit that, it must’ve been beyond bad, especially given the things Mark had said and called him over the years.
“I don’t want to repeat it, and you don’t deserve to hear the crap they said. I’ve had it with them. You were right, they don’t give a damn about me. I thought I could trust them; was sure I could, but I guess I was wrong. They don’t matter. I don’t need them and they won’t be coming back, I promise. I’m getting some help as well. You were right about that. It’s difficult to admit to yourself, let alone anyone else that I’ve got some problems, but I know I do. I know what I did to you was wrong, and unforgivable but I need to try and make it up to you if I can. Can I meet you somewhere? I have to do this Orlando. I need your forgiveness. We have to have forgiveness to move on. I want you to be happy more than anything. Please say you’ll meet me even if it’s just this once. Just you and me with no one else trying to interfere. Please?”
Orlando took in everything Mark said with disbelief. He was really getting help. This wasn’t just a way of getting Orlando back in the house and bolting it behind them.
Mark was right about forgiveness. Neither of them could move on until Orlando forgave him. But could he do that? Could he meet with the man who’d caused him so much pain and forgive him? Forgive him for each bruise, for costing him his friends? For raping him and making him afraid of his own shadow? For stealing his life? How could you forgive that?
The moment’s silence seemed like an eternity before he finally answered in barely a whisper.
“OK”
TBC
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Date: 2007-07-10 09:34 pm (UTC)