Careful (Troyler)

Twenty-Seven: Flashbacks

~Tyler's POV~

trigger warning: mentioning of rape/sexual assault/PTSD

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He asked me as he combed through my hair with his fingers.

"R-really?" I stammered, blushing at his kindness "no one's ever said that to me, before."

"That's ridiculous" he scoffed "you deserve every synonym there is to beautiful, and more. Because you are all of those. You're smart, beautiful, cheeky, dorky, and mine" he smiled, holding me tighter in his embrace. I smiled up at him in disbelief that someone actually cared for me that much. I mean, I'd always been insecure, and since I'd recovered from that eating disorder, I was trying to love myself. But, so far, that wasn't working at all; I still hated myself, but he was helping me learn to love.

"Hey, how about I grab us a few drinks?" he asked suddenly, looking down at me. His green eyes stared right past all my walls and insecurities, leaving me vulnerable.

"S-sure, yeah, I-I guess" I stuttered "b-but I'm underage-"

"Who cares?" He laughed "I sure as hell don't. It's not like anyone will know."

"I-" I paused "I guess you're right." He released me from his grip, standing up from his couch.

"I'll be right back, babe" he winked, kissing my hair. I remember getting on Twitter, talking to my few high school friends, saying I had the best boyfriend in the world. They kept telling me to be cautious of him, because he was seven years older than me, but I didn't listen; I didn't care.

Hours and hours later, he returned with a twelve pack of Budweiser, already wasted off his face.

"Here" he laughed "let me be a little, classy."

"How can you be classy when you're that fucked up?" I remember thinking, but I didn't dare to say that outloud. I watched him pour two cans of Budweiser into a large solo cup, singing  some god awful hip hop song while he poured. I remember looking back around his living room, wanting his 'classiness' to be a surprise to me.

"Tah dah!" He chuckled, staggering around, nearly spilling my cup. I remember the cup being about the size of two and a half red solo cups combined. Smiling at him, I drank half the gigantic cup, although I didn't really want to. I did it for him, just like he wanted. I thought the flavor was disgusting, I still do, but for entirely different reasons.

"Hey babe" he said, his slurred speech surprising me.

"Hmm?"

"We've never really, done anything, you know" he started.

"What do you mean? We've went out a lot, I find it great-" I started.

"No, silly" he laughed at himself "I mean, I've never kissed you below the lips, if you know what I mean."

I remember blushing wildly, considering I had never done anything like that in my entire life.

"I don't think I'm ready for that" I chuckled awkwardly, drinking more of the disgusting beer.

"Come on" he slurred "I can't wait forever, let's go." He grabbed my arm, standing up again. He tried to drag me, but it doesn't work.

"Hey" I said, my head beginning to ache "I said no, not yet. I'm not ready."

"Oakley" he grumbles, pulling me up harder with more force. I remember I began feeling weaker and weaker as he dragged me to the bedroom.

"Oh, Tyler. You're so beautiful" he said as he stripped me down. I was unable to move, unable to scream. I thought this was how love was supposed to work; one was supposed to be very submissive, while the other dominant. I thought he gave me the beer to make me more submissive because I'd never done this before. But little did I know, he put two pills, two RAPE drugs, in my beer. I couldn't move, I could just feel what I thought was pleasure, but was really violation.

"Shh...See, just give in and this will all be over sooner."

"Stop being so tense, this is how love is supposed to be."

"You're so beautiful underneath me."

"If you loosen up, I won't hurt you as bad."

"I said STOP SQUIRMING, OAKLEY!!!"

I remember his slaps, his punches, his kicks, his roughness. I couldn't move, I couldn't stop him. This wasn't love, this wasn't even pure lust, this was just pure, uncut evil.

I can't snap out of my nightmarish flashbacks, repeating themselves over and over again. I'm just constantly reliving the pain, over and over again. I was seventeen years old. SEVENTEEN. When I dated that asshole. He told me I was beautiful, he told me that was normal. The worst part about it all, was that it wasn't just once, either.

"Tyler, I'm sorry about the other night. I don't blame you for being mad at me and avoiding me. I was drunk off my ass, and I shouldn't have done that. I'm really, really sorry. Please forgive me, my beautiful baby" he'd say, looking at me with those hypnotizing green eyes.

"It's okay" I'd smile. I'd fall for the same tricks over and over again. He'd slide the drugs in my drink, or in my food, or put it with my other medication I had to take daily. It was an almost weekly thing, and I always ended up letting him do it over and over again. Not once, not twice, not even three times, but a total of eleven times, I was raped.

"Tyler?" I eventually hear, but I can't stand to look her in the eye. I can't look him in the eye. I can't look at anyone, honestly. So, I run. I run outside the hospital, anxiously awaiting a taxi or something. I finally flag one down, and I just go. I go to a hotel, the hotel I believe Zoe and I are supposed to be staying at. Apparently, I was correct, because the young man at the front desk instantly knew who I was and gave me my room key. Thankfully, he didn't ask any questions as to why I was bawling my eyes out; I don't really feel like answering questions.

I rush up to my room, slamming the door behind me. I lean against the wall, sitting on the cold tile. I let all my emotions break out as soon as my ass hits the ground. I scream, punching the floor. I curl up in a ball, seeing nothing but darkness.

"Be a good boy for daddy..."

I am nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm an idiot. I'm afraid to love, because I don't want to be as naïve as I was before. I don't want to get hurt like I did before. But inevitably, I will. Because I deserve every bit of pain that is coming to me.

When I eventually stop crying, I stand up, going into the bathroom. I look at myself in the full body mirror, seeing something seems off about me. I take off all my clothes, looking in the full body mirror again. When I look at my body, hell, when I look at my face, I don't like what I see anymore. I just see disgusting, useless, waste of sperm and an egg.

Eventually, after staring at myself in disgust a solid twenty minutes, I put my clothes back on, lying on one of the queen sized beds. I just stare at the ceiling, in shame. I've caused everyone so much pain, when in reality, I'm the one who deserves pain.  I don't deserve Troye, or Zoe, or Alfie, or Joe, or Caspar, Dan, Phil, Korey, anyone. I deserve to be alone, and suffer in the pain resulting because of my stupidity.