|
|
Title: Kerfuffles
Series: Untitled
Author: Pixie
Rating: R, to be safe
Disc: Nope, sorry to disappoint.
Summary: Uh...before you read this, you might want to know that this fic is
about a rape.
Spoilers: None, AU, I think
AN: (kerfuffles: A disorderly outburst or tumult)
Dist.: If you want, you shall have...as long as you ask
-------------------------------------------------
Prologue
It was the perfect night for a walk. The moon was high in the sky, the stars
were twinkling, and the cool breeze blew gently. It was also the night of
her sixtenth birthday. The night when everything would change forever.
Buffy lead a happy and normal life. Her mother was the owner of the art
gallary in town and her father the top lawyer at Wolfram and Hart. Her
boyfriend, Riley Finn, was perfect. He was the all-American boyfriend, the
next door kinda guy. Cute with his hair a light brown and his sparkling
eyes. He was tall and muscular, having worked out at the local gym. Her
best friends were Willow Rosenburg and Alexander Harris, or Xander as he
liked to be called. They were very close, almost joined at Buffy's hips.
But nothing would have ever prepared her for the horror of the night that
would change her entire life forever. Ruin her future and yet lead her to
another beginning.
That night, on her sixteenth birthday, Elizabeth (Buffy) Anne Summers was
raped by two men. Two very strong men that took advantage of her innocence
and broke her soul and forever changed her forever.
Part One
Everything was a blur. Buffy Summers lay on the cold concrete, her arms
pinned at her head as someone ripped and pulled at her beautiful skirt. She
heard something tear. Her underwear. She fought, kicked, screamed, but was
unable to escape the men's hold. They were too strong. One held her arms
and disrobed her and the other grabbed at her legs. She was held immobile.
As immobile by the strong shackles on her arms and legs as much as her fear.
Her mouth was pushed open and something was shoved in her mouth. Her
underwear. Tears welled up in her eyes.
She felt something touch her leg, the man on top of her groaned. The other
chuckled and murmured something about her deserving it. Like anyone deserved
being raped.
By the time that the man on top of her was inside of her, shredding her
innocence, she had blurred everyting out. Her mind refusing to believe that
she was being raped. Rape. It had been only something she had seen on tv.
From people who had survived. She had stopped fighting, and in a few
moments, she felt something hot splash inside of her. The man on top of her
got off, it was the other one's turn. By then, she was too frozen to realize
it.
It was an hour after that she had realized that the men had left. Curling up
into a fetal position, she tried to control the shaking that shook her. She
tried getting up, only to discover she was too weak. She tried seeing where
she was, and realized that there were tears falling down her face. She tried
to take the panties out of her mouth, only to vomit all over it and the
concrete floor.
By the time she was ready to head back home, the sun was already rising. Her
parents must be worried.
***
The walk home was also a blur. It was only by luck that she even made it
home, her mind having been gone out of her head or something. She faintly
remembered her parents worried looks. She faintly remembered being showered
by her mother, remembered being tucked into bed, remembered her parents
telling her she could tell them anything...that they would understand. But
what she remembered the most was the disgust in their eyes, the pity lines
along their mouths.
How can they understand? How can they understand that I had tried to get
away but was unable to? That it was my fault that I was raped in the first
place? How could they understand the feeling of being vulnerable? of being
weak and insignificant? As a means to an end?
No, they could never understand.
Nor will she ever inform them. She had to get out. She had to get now.
Fast. Before they know.
Her parents left after a short while, turning off the lights. But the dark,
which once had been a friend, was now her enemy. What if there were more who
wanted to use her? What if she wouldn't survive?
Oh God. All that mattered now was leaving. Leaving Los Angeles and to
another place. Away, just away from here.
Before she cracks and tell them of her one moment of weakness.
Part 2
One Month Later
Buffy Summers exited the dreary restaurant, pulling on her worn out coat as
she moved through the night. Her hand rested in her pocket and latched onto
the knife that she kept there. Just to be safe. Her eyes, rimmed with
fatigue and dark circles beneath her hazel eyes, darted around as she
searched the shadows. Peeling away each layer of darkness, disecting
everything. Her eyes never missed one single detail.
Through her fatigue, Buffy strode through the alleys. Suddenly, dizziness
assailed her. Buffy leaned against the wall for support as the dizzy spell
went away. It was odd, yet expected. After all, the last time she had a
decent meal was last week. But, having very little money, she was forfeiting
a meal for rent money. Even if her apartment was rather sleazy and small.
It was all that she could have afforded. After all, she had left Los Angeles
with a small duffle bag of clothing and a few hundred bucks from her mother's
purse.
And here she was. In Sunnydale. It seemed safe enough. It was a small town
and her family and friends would never expect Buffy Summers, the rich girl
born with a silver spoon in her mouth, to tackle a town so small, a
magnifying glass wouldn't be able to find it.
But it was fine to her. A new beginning, away from her past and the actions
of two men....
Stop that! Don't you dare start going back on your word now!
She reminded herself. Buffy had made a deal with herself. That she would
never think about her past and her origins ever again. By doing so, she kept
the pain and the fear away from her, locked up in a tight little box, never
to be opened.
***
The walk from the restaurant to her apartment took less than ten minutes and,
yet, it still wore her out. Taking off her uncomfortable shoes and her coat,
Buffy lay down on the bed. The cloth were thin, the cheapest brand. It was
a faded blue and the mattress was old. It creaked when she lay down.
Sighing, Buffy wandered into the kitchen. The room was small, but liveable.
But calling it a kitchen was like calling a Chihuahua a Great Dane. There
was a counter against the wall, a toaster, a microwave, and a refrigerator.
On the other side were the oven and a small island.
Opening the refrigerator, Buffy grabbed the microwaveable dishes and popped
it into the microwave. It only took a few minutes before her meal was
served. After finishing her dinner, Buffy showered and then proceeded to bed
where she promptly went to sleep.
Every night, for the past month, had been like this. She woke up in the
morning, went to work, came home, ate dinner, showered, and went to sleep.
Sometimes, Buffy would be awaken in the middle of the night after a
nightmare. Most of the time, she just fell asleep, as peacefully as was
possible. But very few times is it when Buffy Summers is unable to sleep and
lay awake, fearing the darkness in her apartment. The darkness that lurked
outside her window. And the things that they hid.
So it was that her life would be a routine, never once allowing herself the
fun or the pleasure of another's company. It was a lonely life, but a life
distanced from pain. And that was all that mattered.
Or so she thought.
|
|
|