[⚠️ Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse, Psychological Trauma, and Hint of Self-Harm
This chapter contains intense and emotionally distressing material, including the aftermath of sexual abuse, emotional breakdown, and a hint of self-harm. Reader discretion is strongly advised.]
Robbie's POV
We kicked open the door and burst into a narrow corridor that turned sharply at the end. It was sparsely furnished: just a table, a chair, and a large wardrobe. Amanda sat in the chair, tapping furiously on her phone. The moment she saw us, she jumped to her feet, eyes wide with panic.
Three officers tackled her instantly while Fred and I rushed past, rounding the corner without hesitation.
The hallway led to a large, open room; eerily quiet and sparsely furnished. There was a king-sized bed at the center, a side table with a jug and glass, and an armchair stationed ominously at the end of the bed.
Then we saw him.
Tony, his shirt bunched around his torso, his bare hips exposed, face buried in the mattress, one hand fisted tight in the sheets. Behind him, kneeling, shirtless, and caught mid-act, was Mr. Olsen, his erection grotesquely evident, aimed squarely at Tony's body.
Time froze.
Olsen gaped at us, stunned. We stood paralyzed for half a second, then rage took over.
I charged.
My fist collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling backward across the bed. Fred was right behind me, grabbing Olsen by the neck and yanking him off the mattress, locking his thick arms around the bastard's throat.
Two cops rushed into the room and tried pulling Fred off. But Fred wasn't letting go. Not easily. He was vibrating with fury, practically growling as Olsen sputtered and kicked.
"You son of a bitch," Fred snarled. "You filthy, power-drunk scum. I'm going to end you!"
"Mr. D'souza—he'll die—let go!" one officer shouted, trying in vain to pry Fred off him. "Let go or you'll be charged with attempted murder!"
I tuned them out. My coat was already off and in my hands. I moved to Tony, gently draping it over him, shielding his nakedness. When I turned him over, my stomach dropped.
His mouth was clamped around his fist so hard, he was bleeding. His face drenched in sweat and tears, his eyes clenched shut. I tried pulling his hand away, but he wouldn't let go.
"Tony," I said, gently but urgently, "It's me, Robbie. You're safe now. Please, let go, babe, stop, please, Tony!"
Nothing. He was in shock, barely responsive. He must have bitten down to keep himself from screaming, or falling apart.
I laid him gently back, darted to the jug on the table, and splashed cold water over his face. His eyelids twitched. I placed an arm behind his shoulders and pulled him into my chest, patting his cheeks.
"Come back to me," I whispered, trembling. "Come back…"
His eyes finally fluttered open.
I exhaled, relief crashing through me. He blinked slowly, recognition dawning as he stared up at me. I hugged him, holding him as tight as I dared.
"You're okay now," I murmured. "We're here. You're safe."
"T-Tw…Twen…" he stuttered.
"He's fine. He's safe with Mum and Sam," I said, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Don't worry."
Then his voice cracked, and he flinched beneath my touch. "Don't…don't t-touch me."
My heart shattered. I pulled back, stunned, staring at the haunted look in his eyes.
"I—I'm sorry," I whispered. "I was late. You can hate me if you want. Just please, don't—"
"I don't h-hate you," Tony whispered, his voice raw. "But I'm… I'm not clean."
I stared at him, stunned. "What?"
"I'm not w-worthy of you." I felt like the ground had been yanked out from under me.
Not worthy? He thought he wasn't worthy?
Behind us, Olsen coughed, a wheezing, rasping sound that devolved into a spiteful laugh. I turned.
He was cuffed, held upright by two officers, bloodied but still smirking.
"I think I've ruined your favorite toy," he spat, sneering through swollen lips.
I stepped forward, fists clenching. "One more word, and I'll make sure you choke on your own teeth."
He didn't flinch. "Hurting me won't change what happened—"
Fred slammed him against the wall before he could finish. "Why are you still talking?" he growled. "Take this bastard out of my sight!"
The officers didn't argue. They hauled Olsen away, still smirking, but clearly rattled.
Tony hadn't moved. His eyes were shut, his mouth a tight, silent line.
Fred met my eyes, silently asking if I needed anything. I gave him a small nod toward the door.
"Just… give us a moment."
He nodded solemnly and stepped out.
I turned back to Tony, whose face was still averted.
"Tony," I said softly. "Please, look at me."
He refused.
I reached out and gently turned his face toward mine.
"Please," I whispered.
He opened his eyes. Tear-soaked, red-rimmed, but still his.
"You are not dirty," I told him, voice shaking. "You're not tainted. You're the most beautiful man I've ever loved."
His bottom lip trembled. "But he—" Tony sobbed, his face twisting in shame. "That man—"
"If having sex with someone makes a person dirty, then I'm filthier than you'll ever be," I interrupted. "I've slept with half of my college willingly. What happened here wasn't your choice. It wasn't your fault. That bastard violated you. You are not the one to carry that shame."
Tears streaked down his face, his cheeks flushing red, his mouth trembling. He clutched my arm with his still-bleeding hand, voice trembling.
"But–"
"I don't care," I said firmly. "That man doesn't get to define you."
He clutched my arm again, harder this time.
"You made me w-wait too long…"