A/NOne Shot. Warnings: Rape. Not a happy fic.

A ruined boy.

Makeup smeared, eyes stinging with sweat, blood, and tears. Lying still; absolutely still… as asked, as commanded. His lean chest barely rises and falls with the intake and the exhale of futile breaths. Rib-cage prominent, all bones angular, skin stretched tight over them, thin and pale as alabaster. No strength left for words, whispered or screamed. No will, no room for argument. Submissive, dominated, disillusioned. Torn, near bloody… a quite contrast to the pure white linen sheets. Duvet, floor. Pillows in disarray. Salt, copper, and the faint incense, but above all the smell of fear. The room dimly lit with flickering candles, small torches of fading radiate light. Tussled terribly shocking black curls, stuck and slick on his forehead. Legs stretched wide and pulled up, muscles lifeless, the movement is not his. A violent shift, and the bed groans and shakes, the only sound aside from the quick meeting thrusts of flesh against flesh.

He cries when it's finally over. The silence deafening, the mattress shifts, the lights flicker, and go out. Limp as a doll, he lies across the width of the bed. Used, bloodied, broken.

When he hears the command, he slowly struggles to get up, but his limbs fail him and he drops to the floor. Darkness claims his vision, the broken angel sleeps. A painted whore, a duty-bound slave, a ruined boy.