Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Bleeding On the Inside ❯ Cloud On My Tongue ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content. More fact then fiction: the alarming lack of sensitivity in our justice system.

>>>*<<<

CLOUD ON MY TONGUE

Someone's knockin on my kitchen door

leave the wood outside

what all the girls here are freezing cold

leave me with your Borneo

I don't need much to keep me warm

don't stop now what you're doing

what you're doing my ugly one

bring them all here

hard to hide a hundred girls in your hair

it won't be fair if I hate her

if I ate her

you can go now

you're already in there

I'll be wearing your tattoo

you're already in there

got a cloud sleeping on my tongue

he goes then it goes

and kiss the violets as they're waking up

leave me with your Borneo

leave me the way I was before

you're already in there

I'll be wearing your tattoo

I'm already in circles and circles and circles again

the girl's in circles and circles got to stop spinning

circles and circles and circles again

thought I was over the bridge now

Tori Amos

>>>*<<<Bleeding On the Inside - Chapter 10 - Cloud on My Tongue

After a long, tender silence, Trowa released Quatre from his embrace and reached a hand up to cup the soft cheek.

"It's up to you now," he said, stroking the cheek beneath his fingers. "What do you want to do?"

"Do?"

Quatre's eyes were confused; his mind only intent on the fact that Trowa was touching him and not looking disgusted. He leaned into the touch and then paused, suddenly uncomfortable with the contact.

Trowa smiled and put some space between them, understanding Quatre's sudden withdrawal.

"It's okay…" he soothed, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We can just leave this country and not speak of this, or we can call the police and press charges, or we can-"

"Blow up the guy's house and then stomp on him with Deathscythe? I vote for that option!" Duo interrupted, his eyes flashing dangerously, promising all kinds of violence if he were only given the chance.

"Quiet baka!" Wufei hissed, seeing the way Quatre's body hunched up uncomfortably, although he himself was itching to administer some "justice" to the one who would hurt another person so.

"No killing!" Quatre said his eyes pleading with Duo to understand. "We do enough of that and…I don't need another death on my conscience right now. I…" Quatre's head bowed and he shivered, hugging his arms to his chest protectively. "I just want to forget this whole thing, forget that it ever happened."

Reluctantly, Duo nodded, his eyes losing the blatant threat of Shinigami as his body relaxed against Heero's.

"Fine," he said, "no killing. But Quatre…you have to do something. What if this guy's already done the same thing to other people? What if he's planning on doing it again to somebody else?"

"He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to," Trowa snapped, glaring at Duo and putting his arms around Quatre, who had gone two shades paler at Duo's words.

The blonde boy trembled in Trowa's arms, his eyes wide and afraid.

If he did nothing, would others suffer because of it? Would another boy meet the same fate as he did just because Quatre was too ashamed and embarrassed to come forward?

"I-I don't want…it to happen again. I…" he looked to Trowa for reassurance. The uni-banged boy smiled and nodded minutely.

"Call the police. I'll issue a statement," Quatre whispered, wishing he knew why this pronouncement felt like a death sentence.

Heero was on the phone in a second, talking to the chief of police. Quatre blocked out the conversation. He didn't want to hear what was being said about him. Huddled in Trowa's arms, he counted breaths and heartbeats until Heero came back and sat down beside them on the bed.

"They want you to come down to the station," he said.

"Now?" Quatre asked, his voice panicked.

Heero looked at him, his eyes gentle yet serious.

"Quatre, the sooner you issue your statement, the faster they can arrest this guy and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else."

"You don't have to go right now," Trowa said, pressing a light kiss to Quatre's temple. "But you might feel better if you did. The details might not be as clear in your mind tomorrow."

Quatre looked at the concerned faces of his friends and sighed, a tiny smile gracing his face. It would be okay now. Trowa was here. Trowa still loved him. The police would stop the bad person. Everything would be okay.

"…Okay. Let's go now."

Impulsively, Duo hugged the boy, reaching around to enfold Trowa in his embrace as well.

"It'll work out Quatre, you'll see. Everything's going to be just fine. We'll take care of you and nobody'll ever be able to hurt you again," he promised rashly, not minding the way his eyes sparkled just a bit too brightly.

If Quatre saw the unshed tears in Duo's eyes he didn't comment on them, only letting himself be comforted in the fact that Duo Maxwell had just told him that everything would be okay, and Duo Maxwell never lies.

While Duo Maxwell never lies, the world seems to have a much different opinion of the truth.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wufei sighed and shifted the ice pack on his cheek. The plastic chair he was sitting on was very uncomfortable and the clock on the wall displayed a much later time then he had expected to still be sitting in it. Then again, he couldn't complain too much. After all, the nurses at the hospital had given him some ice to combat the swelling of his face while he waited.'What's taking so long. I know the taking of a statement lasts a while but not four whole hours! Poor Quatre must be exhausted by now…'

Wufei moved restlessly in his chair and looked around the small waiting room he and the rest of the pilots, not including Quatre, had been placed in. Duo and Heero were in the corner of the room, talking quietly to each other. Wufei couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the look on Duo's face, it obviously wasn't something pleasant. Then again, what could be pleasant to talk about in a police station?

Trowa sat by the door, his muscles tense, his jaw tight with worry. He had been especially upset when the police had told him that he could not be present during the statement, but there was nothing he could do. Quatre was alone with the detective in another room somewhere, probably scared out of his mind.'Quatre…'

They had gone to the doctor first, but Quatre had refused any type of medical examination. He was too terrified to let anyone else but the pilots touch him. Heero was able to retrieve some of Quatre's blood for testing, something nobody wanted to think about at the moment, but he would not be allowed to conduct the rest of the examination, and Quatre wasn't about to let strangers do it either. After a few painful tries, they gave up on gathering any evidence and just took Quatre to the police station to report the rape.

Quatre had almost reconsidered reporting it after his bad experience with the examination, but Trowa's support and Duo's urgings managed to convince him to go on with it.

Now Wufei was wondering if it had maybe been a mistake to continue after all.'What the hell could be taking so long?'

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre shivered and pulled his sweater tighter around himself. Trowa had made him put it on before they left and although it had seemed foolish to wear the bulky thing in the middle of summer, he was glad for it now. The room seemed very cold to him, although it might just be the fact that he was nervous to the point of making himself sick.

The detective, Quatre couldn't remember his name, was very tall, very blond, and very imposing, at least, he seemed that way to Quatre. The room was small, almost closet-like in its appearance. There were no windows, no natural light sources, no plants. There was a small table and two chairs, and a small clock on the wall. Quatre had been seated in the chair farthest from the door and with the detective sitting across from him, blocking the exit, he felt more then a little penned it.

"This room has a video recorder in it that will tape our conversation," the detective said. "Pay no attention to it, just talk to me like you normally would in a conversation. I'm going to ask you some questions and I want you to tell me, in as much detail as you possibly can, what happened, okay?"

"I…okay."

"What is your name?"

"Quatre Raberba Winner."

"And how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Can you tell me what happened to you this morning?"

"I…I was out with my…with some friends. I wanted some time to myself so I took off on my own. I went shopping…downtown on Shevor Street. I went into C-Cadmy's Clothing Store…"

"And what happened next?"

"T-there was a man at the counter. H-he said that his name was Kyle. He asked if he could help me with anything."

"And what did you say?"

"I…I wanted to try something on. A suit. I asked to try on a suit. He showed me to the change rooms-"

"Which change room were you in? Can you remember?"

"The…the second one from the right, I think."

"What happened?"

"I…I was changing and then…he just came in without any warning. I didn't know what to say."

"Did he try to hurt you?"

"No, not then."

"Did you tell him that his lack of warning made you uncomfortable?"

"I…no."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to…I thought that…I don't know."

"Mr. Winner?"

"I don't know!"

The detective gave the boy a stern look and made a dismissive gesture.

"Calm yourself Mr. Winner. What happened after he burst in on you changing?"

"He gave me another size to try on and left. I…went on like nothing unusual had happened. When I was changing out of the suit the second time he…he came up behind me and…"

Quatre stopped to gasp for air, his hands shaking as he reached for the glass of stale water the detective had given him. After a few gulps he managed to calm down a bit. Through all this the man had said nothing. Even now he was just staring at Quatre, his eyes sharp like knives, piercing and cold. Quatre shivered beneath that stare.'He…why doesn't he say anything? Doesn't he believe me? Why is he staring at me? Please somebody…Trowa tell him to stop looking at me like that. I'm not lying, I'm NOT.'

"Are you ready to continue?"

"Y-yes."

"Can you tell me, in detail, exactly what he did to you?"

"I…I was facing away from the curtain. I could see in the mirror when he came in. He g-grabbed me around the waist and…and rubbed himself against me."

"From behind?"

"Yes."

"What next?"

"H-he was touching me…my…privates, inside my boxers. He kissed my neck. I fell to the floor. H-he pulled down his pants, and then he pulled down my pants, and then he…he…"

"He what?"

"He…"

"Please Mr. Winner, you must tell me or I won't be able to help you."

Quatre looked down at the hands he was clenching in his lap. He couldn't bear to watch the detective's face, couldn't stand those eyes…

"He raped me. Stuck himself inside of me."

"Did you say anything? Scream for help? Tell him no?"

"I couldn't. I was just…frozen."

"You didn't speak at all?"

"No."

"Did you struggle at all? Kick, punch, scratch?"

"No."'Stupid, stupid. Should have fought back. Should have said no. Shouldn't have gone off alone. Why didn't I at least say no? I'm so stupid. I deserved to have this happen. I deserved this.'

"What did Kyle look like?"

"Tall. With dark hair and dark eyes. Either brown or black."

"You don't know which?"

"I can't remember."

"Facial hair, scars, birthmarks?"

"He was clean-shaven. I don't remember seeing any birthmarks or scars on his skin. He was wearing a white shirt with black dress pants. I don't remember any more."

"Did you know him at all before this incident?"

"No."

"What were you wearing when he burst in on you the first time?"

"What?!" Quatre was startled. He hadn't expected that question at all.'Why is he asking that? What difference does it make what I was wearing?'

"Please answer the question."

"I…I was changing. I was only in my boxers at the time."

"Mr. Winner, you refused a medical examination, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I couldn't…it's just too difficult for me to do at this point in time."'He thinks I'm lying. He thinks I'm lying. He thinks I'm a liar, liar, liar, liar, liar…'

"What happened after he raped you?"

"He…he left. I stayed on the floor for a while longer…"

"How long?"

"I don't know. Not very long. I got dressed and went home."

"Is there anything you wish to add to or change about this story?"

"No."

"Nothing at all?"

"No."'LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR'

A knock on the door interrupted Quatre's thoughts. The detective excused himself and then left to talk with someone. Quatre was left alone inside the room.'I'm so cold…How long have I been in here? I want Trowa. Why was he asking me all those questions about what I was wearing? The video camera's still on. Is somebody watching me? Trying to see if I'm lying or not? Do they not believe me? I'm so tired; I just want to go home. Where's Trowa? I want Trowa…'

Quatre sat in silence, his eyes glued to the tabletop so he wouldn't be tempted to look around the room for the hidden camera. The room seemed so tiny all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in on him. He never used to be claustrophobic before. What was wrong with him?

The abrupt entrance of the detective nearly caused Quatre to jump out of his chair. Fear clawed at his throat and his heart thrummed frantically in his chest. The detective didn't seem to notice his sudden panic, or if he did, he didn't comment on it.

"Mr. Winner, while we have been talking, I've sent a team up to Cadmy's Store to pick up the surveillance tapes for the change rooms. They are reviewing these tapes now. Before we hear the results, are you sure you don't want to change your story in any way?"'Surveillance tapes?'

"I…of course not. It happened just the way I said. I don't want to change anything."

"All right."

They sat in silence again, Quatre feeling nervous and more then a bit apprehensive. Surveillance tapes. Someone was watching him being violated at this very moment.'I'm so embarrassed. I don't want them to see that. I don't want anyone to see that.'

Another knock on the door sounded and the detective disappeared through the door again, leaving Quatre with his thoughts. By now the boy was so jittery his hands were shaking and he could barely hold the cup of water to his lips to drink. When the detective came back in, again without any warning, Quatre's mind screamed at him to run away, get away from this bad feeling, these horrible memories creeping up on him.

"Mr. Winner they have reviewed the tapes and…the attack did not show up on them at all. Are you sure you have all the details correct?"

Quatre's mouth dropped open, his face pale and slackened with shock.

"W…what? It didn't…show up?"

"According to the video, no one was in that change room today."

Quatre's mind was blank. He couldn't think. All the blood was rushing to his head, making him slightly dizzy.'No one was there. No one, NO ONE. It didn't show up on tape. It didn't show up at all.'

"I…Are you sure you got the right change room? Maybe it was another…"

"We checked all the change rooms' video tapes. Nothing. Do you want to change your story?"

Unbelieving, Quatre shook his head from side to side.

"No…no, it happened, I swear it did. He raped me! It really did happen! I felt it…"

"Tell me what happened again. Be as descriptive as you can be."

Quatre rattled off his story a second time, the events and words seeming to blur together in his mind. One thought seemed to repeat itself in his head in an endless litany:'…he doesn't believe you, he think you're lying, he doesn't believe you, he thinks you're lying…' /But I'm not lying! It happened!/ 'Then why didn't it show up on video?' /There must be a mistake. It happened!/ 'He doesn't believe you. He thinks you're a liar.'

"Mr. Winner, did that injury on your neck come from the attack?"

The detective pointed to the white bandage that was visible through the neck of Quatre's bulky sweater.

Quatre reached and hand back to touch the bandage and winced.

"No…I was a little too…vigorous with the wash cloth."

"I see."'He doesn't see. He doesn't see at all. He thinks you're a liar.'

"Do you have a lot of stress in your life, Mr. Winner? Any problems at home lately?"

/No. He doesn't think I'm a liar. He thinks I'm CRAZY. A fucking nut case…/

"No. I have no problems at home."

"But there is some stress?"

"I…yes, there is stress."

"More then usual?"

"…maybe."

"Mr. Winner, I'm going to talk with my people one more time and then you can tell me your story again, okay?"'How many times will I have to tell it? How many times do I have to relive this? What if I really am just going crazy? Nothing showed up on the tape. I'm probably delusional, imagined the whole thing. What if it never happened? Shouldn't I feel better then? But why do I hurt so much inside if it never happened? Why do I see his face…I just want to go home. Somebody please take me home.'

When the detective came back a third time, Quatre was ready to tell him anything he wanted in order to get out of that room, in order to see Trowa a return to his bed where he could just fall asleep forever and pretend that this was nothing more then a bad dream. He told his story again, shakily, with much less description. And when the detective asked again…

"Mr. Winner, are you absolutely certain that you didn't imagine this incident taking place. It's all right if you were confused. You're not going to get into any trouble if you tell the truth. I just don't want to have a unit out looking for this guy if there's a chance that it didn't really happen."'Wasting their time. He just said it. I'm wasting their time with my sick delusions. He must think I'm some sort of troublemaker, only out for attention or something. There's no video proof; it didn't show up on tape. I'm so worthless, so selfish, why the hell am I here? What the hell am I doing here? Am I crazy? I must be. I must be crazy. Poor crazy Quatre. Poor delusional Quatre. Better cart him off to the funny farm before he accuses someone else of raping him. Am I sick? I must be sick, to imagine something like that. What kind of person am I? I just want to go home. I just want to go home and forget this. This never happened. It never happened and I want to go home now, please.'

"It never happened."

"Excuse me?"

"It never happened. I imagined the whole thing. It never happened."

"So I can tell my people to stop looking for this guy?"

"…yes."

"All right," the detective said, looking pleased. "You did the right thing by telling us the truth. Don't worry, you're not going to get into any trouble. We're going to get you all the help you need."/Yeah, psychiatric help./

'I just want to go home. Please?'

The man reached over and patted Quatre's hand, like he was a child that needed to be placated. Quatre said nothing, his face blank of all emotion. When the man left once more to turn the camera off, Quatre placed his head in his hands and cried, feeling more alone in that moment then he had ever felt in his entire life.'OhGodohGodohGodohGod…'

The room was silent. Quatre's tears made no sound. The sobs that shook his shoulders would not pull themselves from his body, from his throat. Quatre clutched the sweater that still held the scent of Trowa, the only thing keeping him from shutting completely down at the moment. He yanked the back of it over his head, hiding in the warm cocoon it provided for him. He knew he looked ridiculous like that.

But who would expect less from a mad man?