Anomalies ✔

Chapter Thirty-Three

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: BODY

It is of the nature of desire not to be satisfied, and most men live only for the gratification of it.
-Aristotle

There was something cold against my back and a heavy, painful hand on my broken arm and a tongue on my neck that I knew I didn't want it there.

It was like chains were holding my legs down and even as I kicked out, it didn't move the body, the heavy body over mine.

And I'm crying, sobbing in fact and I can't stop but there's a heaviness to my lip, like I was recently hit and my head is throbbing.

He's hurting me, that's all I can think about.

I'm trying to fight it -I'm trying, I'm trying, I'm trying.

But it's not working.

All around me, there's walls and I can't control anything and I'm ticing but I can't hear a thing and I'm scared.

This is a nightmare. I know it's a nightmare, I can't control it, I can't control myself. I need help.

Clark is here and he looks distorted and there's more than two hands touching me but they're only his.

Thrashing around doesn't work, as I can't hear anything he's saying but I can feel as his lips move on my skin in a snarl, making me tense in fear as I gag. I can't move and I can't help myself.

Fingernails dig into my thighs, making me scream as they sharpen to an inhuman point just to make me bleed.

"Castor." Clark says but that's not right -that's not right. He doesn't know my name. And if he did he wouldn't say it like that, why is he yelling, why is he yelling at me?

His hands, warmer hands, maybe they're not his but they're still hands on my body but they don't hurt and it's confusing.

I'm supposed to be hurt.

Yet it's not painful.

"Castor," That's not his voice. "Wake up!"

This isn't right.

The walls get closer but the pain in my arm changes, the weight of the body fades.

And I gasp.

It's just a nightmare.

"Star," Jasper floods my senses but I'm all too aware that I'm still crying and I don't have contacts in and I can't see anything but that's probably for the better. The hands on me felt too real, it was too real. "You're safe, okay? You're s-safe."

I'm not.

"I'm here, it's Jasper." Jitterbug. "You're safe."

The pain in my wrist changes from the sharp burn of a break to the stinging of cuts and I recall the sound of a breaking lamp with a flinch.

Jasper's over me, holding my other arm to my chest but only holding onto my other hand- -due to the cuts- -but I don't doubt he still got blood on him, not to mention the blood on the bed. One of his legs hold down my own, effectively pinning me to the bed.

He doesn't relax when I stop fighting against him, but rather moves a bit off me.

It takes me a moment to realize how bad I'm shaking.

All it takes is one single glance to his watery, mint-colored eyes for me to break down crying.

I'm so pathetic.