My Real Name
Stitches felt like her head was underwater: her vision blurred, and her hearing dimmed. She vaguely knew that the man who had grabbed her arm had been ripped away, and he was no longer a threat. But no matter how much she tried to tell herself that, she couldn't stop spiraling. I can’t breakdown here, pull it together! Her mind had other ideas, as the flashbacks began, as if she was being transported back in time, going through it all again. Ghosts of her past haunted her, attacking her mind, violating her body, and crushing her spirit.
The feel of her cousin's hands down the front of her pajamas when she was 5, she not even fully comprehending what was happening, and him, a teenager who only told her to keep quiet and keep it a secret. She hadn’t understood, but it terrified her, as his rough and clumsy fingers stole an innocence she could never reclaim.
She came back to the present, still in the throws of her panic attack, and vaguely saw and heard Angel in front of her, catching only a few words here and there, his voice worried. "Hey... down... breathe ..." She could feel herself gasping for breath, her lungs clamoring for oxygen, trying desperately to follow his directions. But her chest felt so tight, her heart hammering as though it would rip itself from her ribcage. She closed her eyes to focus, but instead, she was transported to another trauma.
Her grandfather, his hands massaging her naked teenage body, whispering how beautiful she was and how he had loved her since she was a toddler, waiting for this day, before entering her. She knew it was wrong, she wanted to fight back, but who would believe her? He was offering her a home, away from parents who beat her, where she could have the freedom and space to exist without fear... except from his lust.
She whimpered between gasps as she morphed back to the present again. Oh gods, make it stop, I’ll do anything if it will just stop! A warm hand pressed against her forehead, and it was then that she felt how cold her skin was. Her eyes flashed open as she choked out a snarl and tried to pull away, but this time, Charlie was the one in front of her, her voice calm, but eyes frantic. She couldn't hear what she was saying, but she didn't pull away from the touch, now that she saw who it was. Just stayed where she was, shivering, drowning, gasping, as she was pulled into another past event.
Her ex's weight against her as he pinned her to the wall, her arm twisted roughly behind her back as she pleaded with him, only for him to take her right there. He was angry about something trivial, something out of her control. But her body would suffer many bruises that night. The next morning, it was as though it had never happened, he doted and loved on her, and she was stupid enough to stay.
She screamed as she came back out of it, vaguely aware that arms were holding her. Her arms were in pain, and she was vaguely aware of fluid running down them, the smell and taste of blood around her. She was getting dizzy, her body thrashing as she tried to escape the hands holding her, to tare at her flesh again, a futile counter attack against the memories spiraling through her head. "Make it stop, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP!" she screamed. She could feel the tears streaming down her face. She couldn't see anymore, whether her vision had gone out or her eyes were squeezed shut, she couldn't tell, but she felt herself being dragged back under again. No, NO, N-
Men were grabbing and using her in every way possible, as she screamed and reached for her spouse, her light, her everything. But all he did was stare at her from the ground, eyes glassed over with death, in a pool of blood. Her unborn child would follow him in a few short hours, but not until she had been broken and left for dead herself.
She screamed, blood-curdling, and at the top of her lungs, her head thrown back. She felt herself fall backward as she lost consciousness, into someone's arms but it didn't matter anymore who it was. Who cared what happened to her now, when she had just relived such horrors? What could they do that she hadn’t already lived through? Kill her? No, she was done, she didn’t care anymore. She hoped she never woke up again.
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Angel Dust squeezed the cool water from the washcloth back into the bowl before dabbing it against Stitches' forehead. The doll demon looked so small and frail in her bed, whimpering and shivering, her skin flush with a stress-induced fever. Her arms and neck were bandaged where she had torn her flash with her own claws and fangs in her madness, and it hurt so much to know that she had hurt herself like that. Him, Charlie, and Vaggie had all tried to calm her, try to get her to stop, but finally, Alastor had used his shadows to restrain her as she thrashed and screamed. Until she suddenly lost consciousness, and had fallen backwards into his arms.
It had been several hours since the incident in the lobby, and Angel wanted to kill the bastard who had triggered her. More than that, he wanted to kill whoever had hurt her, who created these triggers to begin with. If he found out they were here in Hell, he would hunt down every single one and kill them over and over again, until either they stopped respawning or were killed permanently with a celestial blade. Of course, from the look on the Short King’s face, he might have to make due with the scraps.
Stitches, unconscious in her fevered sleep, turned into the cool cloth, instinctively seeking out the relief. He smiled sadly, using one of his other hands to gently get some stray violet yarn strands of hair away from her face. She reminded him so much of his little sister, Molly, who was a Winner in Heaven, or so he assumed, where she absolutely belonged. He remembered doing the same for her when she was a kid, a sickly little thing that always seemed to catch fevers every time it rained. But this was infinitely worse.
Because she is like me.
Angel didn't know the specifics, but he had seen enough. The way she had been so scared with Val, the subtle leaning away from people and touch, especially from men, and the panic attack after being grabbed... Yeah, he had seen it all before. In his life, in Val's studio, and, if he was honest, the goddamn mirror. She had been assaulted, beaten, raped... something extreme and who knew how many times or to what extent. But it didn't matter. Because there was only one answer to how many times it should have happened.
Zero.
He didn't realize he had bit his lip with his sharp teeth until Stitches began to stir, her eyelids fluttering as she regained consciousness. He quickly leaned back into his chair, wanting to give her space. Fuck, shit, she should have woken up when Charlie was here. Anyone that wasn't a guy, honestly. He contemplated getting up and going to the other side of the room, as far away as possible, but the sudden movement might scare her even more. So he sat and waited, hoping she wouldn’t freak out too much with him right there, but also preparing for it regardless. This ain’t about me or what I want, this about her and what she needs.
Stitches eyes opened slowly, her eyes darting about as she adjusted, but her body didn't move an inch. It was eerie, like watching a spooked animal trying to decide what action to take, frozen in time, muscles tensing to run at the slightest provocation. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to provide reassurance, but he stayed still and silent, letting her take in her surroundings at her own pace. Her head turned and her eyes fell on him, and oh! The joy in his heart when her eyes calmed, her face collapsing into relief at the sight of him, rather than the terror he had expected.
"Heya, kid." Angel said, softly, gently, his voice his natural tenor, what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face, careful not to lean forward yet. "It's good to see you awake."
She stared at him, a thousand questions swimming behind her eyes. Finally, she swallowed, her voice quiet and hoarse. "W... What happened?" It was the first time she had gone so long without her eyes settling into that cold, guarded look. Either she is really comfortable with me, or she is still that much in shock.
Angel leaned forward slightly, slowly, reading her face. She didn't react, staying calm as she continued to watch him, eyes still swimming through emotions, but no alarm or terror. That's a good sign. "What do you remember?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
She frowned, thinking for a moment, and then her face blanched. Her eyes became guarded and she turned to look up at the ceiling. His heart ached, watching her cut herself off from him. Please don't shut me out… Let me help you…
She was silent for several minutes. He began to wonder if he should offer to leave, to get one of the girls, to give her time and space. But he was also scared to leave her alone. She looked so hollow and broken, and if she hurt herself or worse while he was gone, he-
"Did I say anything...?" she finally huffed out. She was still looking at the ceiling, or rather, past it, it felt like. Calculating her next steps, planning her reactions.
He hesitated. "You-” Fuck, just be honest, or you’ll break whateve’ trust you’ve earned. “ well, you screamed and begged for it to stop, but you really didn't say much else. You did scratch and bite yourself pretty bad on your neck and arms before we were able to get you to stop."
She winced, as if suddenly aware of the wounds, and nodded. "How long was I out?" Her voice was stronger now, but it sounded so hollow and cold. Like her eyes…
"A couple of hours. You slipped into a fever, so Charlie and I brought you here.” He watched her for any reaction. “She is the one who carried you and got you into bed,” he quickly added, wanting to reassure her that she hadn’t been touched by him a man. “But she had to deal with hotel stuff, so I offered to watch over you until you woke up."
He hesitated, but he had to ask: "I can go if you want-"
"No!" she bolted up and lunged towards him, grabbed his arm, her eyes frantic. It took him a second to get over the shock, but he recovered and nodded, gingerly patting her hand. It warmed him that she wanted him to stay, that she felt comfortable to touch him, but it was beat out by the crushing weight of her hurt and sorrow.
"I won't leave unless you ask me to, don't worry." Her grip didn't loosen, and she searched his face as if trying to determine if what he said was true. "I swear to you, Stitches, I got you." He started gently rubbing the back of her hand with his fingers, letting her calm down at her own pace, her fast breathing eventually going back to normal.
She finally nodded slowly, easing back onto the bed, her right arm hiding her face, her left hand still on his arm, but looser. He kept rubbing soothing circles on the back of it, humming quietly. If he could get her to relax, maybe she could sleep a little. "Brandi," she whispered. It was so quiet he almost didn't hear it, and even when he heard it, he was confused.
"I don't-"
She turned and looked at him, her eyes unguarded again, a sign of trust, and her eyes full of warmth amidst the sorrow. "My real name is Brandi."
Angel smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Brandi. I'm Anthony. But you can call me Tony, when we are alone." He flashed his most charming smile and slipped into his persona. “Wouldn’t wanna disappoint my fans, ya know?”
She smiled, small but warm, and giggled quietly. She rolled on her side, facing him, exhaustion settling in on her features as she relaxed. Again, he was reminded of Molly, so young and helpless, except Stitches/Brandi had so much more pain in those now unguarded eyes. "Stay until I fall asleep?" she whispered, yawning into her right hand.
Angel gently picked up her left hand with from his arm and moved it closer to the bed, holding it firmly, protectively, using another hand to gently brush her hair out of her eyes, relieved to find that her fever was receding. She didn't flinch at all, just sighed softly, closing her eyes, like a child finally comforted after a nightmare. She was already asleep by the time he cupped her face, her nuzzling it in her sleep.
He leaned in close and kissed her forehead, and she hummed contentedly in response. He leaned to her ear and whispered.
"I got you, Brandi. Sweet dreams.”