'It is easy to be weak. Why, it is the easiest thing in the world! But it is not right, and is not good, and I will not give in to you.'
He is on his feet, heart clamouring in the wounds on his neck.
'You may force me to...what you did, but it was force because I will not yield to you any other way. So you may feel proud of yourself, but I have no need to find it again. But you...you will get another victim, and try to ruin them too, and then another, and another, and-'
He is breathing too hard to continue. He does not want to face what this man brought him to, but he also cannot deny the pleasure that was pushed on him. He will not lie about it, but it does not mean he has to admit to it either.
'You do not know...you have no understanding of what it is to-'
Words are failing him, but he cannot just sit, and say nothing. The humiliation of these three days, now nothing is suppressing his mind, will not allow him to just take it. He cannot turn the other cheek, as he did to Valjean all those years ago; he cannot allow an infringement upon his person to be ignored. Even if he asked God for it. He did not ask for this, and...no, he prayed for penance, and he should accept it, but he cannot, he must be weak, he cannot just lie down and take it.
In the absence of other options, of clarity of thought, he bunches his fists at his side, and lands one on the table. It causes the cutlery to rattle, and the glass to fall. He does not notice.
no subject
He leans forward suddenly, hissing the words.
'It is easy to be weak. Why, it is the easiest thing in the world! But it is not right, and is not good, and I will not give in to you.'
He is on his feet, heart clamouring in the wounds on his neck.
'You may force me to...what you did, but it was force because I will not yield to you any other way. So you may feel proud of yourself, but I have no need to find it again. But you...you will get another victim, and try to ruin them too, and then another, and another, and-'
He is breathing too hard to continue. He does not want to face what this man brought him to, but he also cannot deny the pleasure that was pushed on him. He will not lie about it, but it does not mean he has to admit to it either.
'You do not know...you have no understanding of what it is to-'
Words are failing him, but he cannot just sit, and say nothing. The humiliation of these three days, now nothing is suppressing his mind, will not allow him to just take it. He cannot turn the other cheek, as he did to Valjean all those years ago; he cannot allow an infringement upon his person to be ignored. Even if he asked God for it. He did not ask for this, and...no, he prayed for penance, and he should accept it, but he cannot, he must be weak, he cannot just lie down and take it.
In the absence of other options, of clarity of thought, he bunches his fists at his side, and lands one on the table. It causes the cutlery to rattle, and the glass to fall. He does not notice.
'I wish to leave.'