The street lamp's broken

That's all he knows

Lipstick red under white bony fingers

Cold and unfamiliar

The thud, smack of wood hitting flesh

He can barely breathe

Blue eyes are squeezed shut

Sarcastic mouth twisted in pain

The grunt, clank of a body being pressed into his

Loose belt buckle tapping the headlights

With every sweaty thrust

His back is cold

Everything is cold

But nothing is numb

He is paralyzed in handicap and agony

Thick rolled words like screams in his face

Though he cannot see

Only remember a brown square jaw

Blonde fuzz before smack

slam, rip, grunt

He's being torn apart, he can feel it

He fights it he fights it

But nothing works

He hurts, oh god,

it hurts more than he has ever known

It stretches out like taffy

Where is everyone?

Why has no one driven by?

Smack smack of the stick

Now splinters are piercing his tender back

It will not end

Then the body digs in farther

And it's too intense

He knows he'll vomit if he unclenches his teeth

But the rocking and the smacking stop

And the body groans behind him

Gruff whispered words before he feels it retract,

Feels it dress, hears it leave.

His legs are cold

His mind is numb

He can't feel it there anymore

His fingers twitch

His legs shake

His back cracks in protest

He pushes up from the hood of his coveted car

Now hated

His chest and hands leave warm wet spots

Turning red pink

And he is aware of everything.

The distant laughing of cars

A light flickering on the building opposite him

The beads of perspiration soaking his face

How exposed he still is

How it might come back

The hurried rustling of his boxers being pulled up tenderly over his nakedness

The following of a heavier, useless pant leg

There is no one coming

He limps blindly to the door

A new paralysis, this his mind

As he fumbles the outside door

Frantic searching of his pockets

Did it take my keys?

Is it coming back?

No, sharp pricks of teeth against his trembling fingers

Than one, two,

He's in, almost

A mile run to his door

It takes longer

Turning around

Were those footsteps?

Everything catches his eye


The hum of a furnace

Then he falls through

The door, barely bracing himself

His heart is on fire

But he stops breathing

It hurts, god it hurts

Touching the walls, his walls

An empty beer on the coffee table

He moves without thought

Touches his books

His piano, his light switch

Feels his face, the swelling patches that are growing

One thought pushes through like a bubble


He makes the four steps to his phone


Grabs it off the hook

Hits speed dial

His hands are shaking

Wilson, answer

Once, twice, three times it rings

The clock glares 2:14

It's dark outside

Wilson, answer.

Four, five

Wilson, please!


Once second.


A groggy familiar baritone


He can feel his heart again

Can feel it drilling in his chest

Please, I need you here.

Please, help

Please please come.

You're the only one


"Wilson," crack,

More soft humming

"I need you to come over…"


THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT! This was inspired by Neena's absolutely beautiful story, Broken, which can be found here. I'm not spoiling it for anyone who reads the first freakin' chapter, but House gets raped (D: & :D). It's the first story I have read that gives everything such a realistic and believable tone, and though she may not know it, I grovel at this author's feet for more delicious H/W. That's my rant. Sorry if I screwed the story. You can find it here fan fiction . net /s/2779875/1/