Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Taming the Tiger ❯ Invasion ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A/N: Hola. Ok, so this has about 42 chapters, at least as far as this site is concerned. I cut the intro because it's no longer accurate. As I said, 42 chapters and on hold at the moment. I got people on ffn telling me how disturbing this is; it's supposed to be. For now at least.

Warning: Rape. As with anything else of this nature I have written just remember: Don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Takeshi Obata.

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Mello tried to force his eyes to focus in the near blackness, but it was no use. He knew someone had opened the door, but all he could tell was that the dim, murky light was hurting his eyes. He couldn't breathe as the man stepped closer. He knew what was coming. Or at least he knew approximately what was coming. The man certainly wasn't there to give him food - they hadn't done that since sometime last week - so either he was in for a beating, or...

He gasped as he felt himself pushed against the wall. Rough hands pawed at the loose folds of leather that had once been a pair of tight pants. There was a pause in the feeling as Mello heard the sound of a belt buckle and a zipper. His pulse quickened and bile burned the back of his throat. Every hint of consciousness, every fibre of his being was telling him to run, but there was nowhere to go. And then the hands were back, pushing his shoulders so that he had to turn his head or have his nose crushed against the wall. He barely bit back a scream as he felt himself penetrated. There was no hint of concern for his well being, but why would he expect that there would be? The man's pace was hard and fast, as though he just wanted to be done with it. Mello hardly registered the deep, guttural sound emitting from the man behind him. His mind was far away as he made a desperate effort not to recognize what was happening. He was back in a warmer place in happier times with much better company. Not that that said much. Anywhere was preferable to here, and he was quite certain that the rats he sometimes heard behind the walls would have made for better company. At least they wouldn't do this to him.

He felt a sudden warmth that had nothing to do with pleasure - not his, at least - and then the man was gone, closing the heavy door behind him. Knowing it was finally relatively safe, he sank to the cold floor, sobbing silently for fear of someone hearing. He just wished it would end, even if he had to die for that to happen. He had considered several times ending his life, but he never tried. He did not have adequate means to do so and if he failed he would probably be punished for trying. So instead he simply lay there, cold and filthy and injured and violated, hating everything and wishing for nothing but eternal sleep. No, not sleep. With sleep came dreams. He no longer had dreams, only nightmares. Void then. That would be it. Sweet, merciful nothingness. Just an end to the torment. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing.