TRIGGER WARNING!!!

Mentions of rehab, drug addiction/abuse, recovery, SA, and abusive/toxic relationships.

—

2:07PM
MESSAGE FROM:
"Pedro"

Pedro
Please call me if you need to.
I'm always here, corazón.

MESSAGE READ AT 4:19PM

Pedro
Willow
Fuck
You're everything to me.
I love you so much.
I want to hold you and kiss you.
And stop this pain from hurting you.
I want to make you smile and laugh
and keep you happy constantly.
You deserve happiness.
The most happiness.
I don't want you to go through this.
You shouldn't have to.
It's not your fault.
This stupid life we live is the issue.
Not you.
You're never the issue.
Or a burden.
Or a problem.
You're innocent.
The most innocent, genuine person.
Please call me if you need me.
Im always here.
I will always be here.
You're the light of my life and I
cannot live without you now.

Message not delivered.

—

4:53PM
MESSAGE FROM:
"R. Paddington"

R. Paddington
Pizza or pasta
You choose tonight
Also there's a man
outside.
Pedro I think.
Do you want me to let him in?

Willow
Idk
Not really
Sorta
I don't want him to see
me like this
Can you talk to him?

R. Paddington
Ofc stay in bed love
I'll get both pasta and pizza
We can do one tn one tmrw
Okay?
(Willow liked this message.)

Pedro stood outside Willow's door anxiously, feeling stupid for even coming. Her apartment wasn't entirely hid from paparazzi, but it was blended enough with regular people that he wasn't questioned walking over in a hoodie and baseball cap.

The door opened before Pedro could gather himself and he smiled awkwardly at the (much younger) man before him.

"Oh, hi."

"You must be Pedro," the man smiled. Pedro recognized him — Robert Pattinson, of course. He'd seen him before. Sophie loved him.

"And you're the best friend. From Twilight."

Robert winced, tilting his head a fraction. "Not exactly my favorite, but it is my most persistent. She doesn't want to see you."

Pedro nodded, guilt swimming in his chest. Robert seemed to sense this, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Not your fault, mate," he assured Pedro. "Blame James, the fucker's been in and out of her for days. She just needs time. She's...trying to cope after everything and hasn't given herself time. But she does care about you."

Care about him. Pedro wanted to scream at the clouds, then. Wanted to shout to whatever higher power there was and proclaim his love for Willow. He didn't just care about her, he was completely in love with her.

"I feel weird coming over here," Pedro admitted, pulling out a small stuffed animal from the backpack he'd brought with him. "I got this for her when I saw the articles, figured she'd want some comfort."

It wasn't much, just a green stuffed dinosaur, approximately the size of his forearm. There were little purple spots along it's back.

Robert smiled gently, taking it from him. "She'll love it."

"Has she been drinking?" Pedro asked quietly, worry flooding his words.

"Like I said," Robert's face hardened. "James has been around. He's not a good influence and not a good person. Threw it all out this morning. She's mostly feeling guilty right now."

"Why?" Pedro asked with a frown. "She's not to blame for anything. Tell me—tell me she knows that."

"Deep down," Robert nodded. "She does. But with her name trending and people texting her...it's not good. She's got everything muted and only responds to my messages. I'd let you in but she asked me not to. Personally, I'd prefer you here. I think she'd listen to you. But I can't betray her, she asked you to wait so you've got to. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Pedro said immediately, feeling as though he could cry. He just wanted to hold her, comfort her, tell her she'd be alright. "Just—just let me know how she is, okay? Has her agent contacted at all?"

Robert rolled his eyes. "Fuck her," he scoffed. "Dropped her the second the article came out. Didn't hear it from me, but I half think she's the "source,"" he said with air quotes around the word.

Pedro sighed, thinking the same. Nothing could be proven...

"Give her the stuffed animal and em, y'know, put on Golden Girls. I'm sure you already have but—"

"—She didn't want to watch that one," he cut Pedro off. "Said she had new memories with it and didn't want to hurt those good ones with these bad ones. Give her time. I promise, if you wait for her, she'll be worth it."

Pedro nodded immediately. "I would wait forever if I had to. She's already worth it."

Robert gave a half-smile. "I hope you stick around," he said plainly. "I love Willow more than anyone, and I'd love to see her as happy as she deserves to be."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Robert nodded once, holding up the stuffed animal in goodbye, before walking back into the foyer and shutting the door, leaving Pedro in the hot summer air.

—

5:09PM
MESSAGE FROM:
"Dad"

Dad
Hey sweet girl
Just reminding you
that you're a good person.
Because you forget to
tell yourself that and
you need someone else to.
Call me if you need me.
I love you, peanut.
So does your mom.

Message read at 5:11PM

—

8:17PM
(72) MESSAGES FROM:
"Bad Bitch Family"
GROUP CHAT

8:20PM
(109) MESSAGES FROM:
"The Living"
GROUP CHAT

8:41PM
(238) MESSAGES FROM:
"Bad Bitch Family"
GROUP CHAT

8:59PM
(215) MESSAGES FROM:
"The Living"
GROUP CHAT

9:14PM
(240) MESSAGES FROM:
"Bad Bitch Family"
GROUP CHAT

9:27PM
(219) MESSAGES FROM:
"The Living"
GROUP CHAT

9:49PM
MESSAGE FROM:
"James"

James
Wanna come over?
Fuck Robert come over
Fuck me instead

Willow
I'm trying to be good
I'm not tryna get drunk
Or high rn
And you make it hard not
to do both

James
Wtf that supposed to mean

Willow
Hahahaah
Wait not the way it sounds
Just that
Yknow
You like that stuff
I shouldn't do it anymore
It's bad for me
You're bad for me, J

James
Bad for you?
Sounds like someone else.
Come over.
We're having a party.

Willow
James...
Idk
I really shouldn't

James
Gummy bear, please.
When have I ever hurt you?
You're the loml
I love you
I need you
I crave you
Crave that body up against mine
Your loud moans in my ear
...
Doesn't that sound good baby?

Willow
Idk
Gimme an hour okay?

James
Good girl

—

Willow took another hit of the blunt, her mind reeling. She leaned her head against the wall of the house, trying not to pay attention to the flashing lights and loud voices.

James had left her at least an hour ago, walked off in search of "something better" to get fucked up with.

She'd done three lines in the bathroom with Ben Affleck and Demi Lovato — who, surprised her, both at the same party, in New York City, no less, but she figured with James' reach, it wasn't entirely surprising.

After two beers and half a blunt, Willow stumbled outside and spent the better half of the hour in her own head.

She heard someone had brought 'shrooms but knew it was a bad idea to take one in her state.

Part of her didn't even care what happened to her body, her mind. She wanted to obliterate it. She wanted to stop feeling altogether, to get rid of her pain, to make everyone stop looking at her like she'd done it.

Like she'd killed somebody.

She'd never killed anyone before.

"Willow Sandler?" A drunken slur stopped her train of thought and she turned her head, wincing at the lightheadedness it brought.

She wanted to lie down.

"Goddamn, I used to have the fattest crush on you."

Willow blinked, trying to pinpoint his face. "Do I—do I know you?"

"No," the man shook his head. "I'm not famous. Just a friend of James. I was so jealous when he got you, when he paraded you around like you were his..."

A nervous jolt of energy shocked Willow from her high stupor and she pulled the blunt from her lips.

"I—I'm not his though," Willow swallowed thickly, heart hammering against her rib cage. She was too far from the door and too drunk to run. But she knew this man's tone, the drunken, low-toned desire that sent shivers down her spine.

"No," the man moved closer to her, brushing back a piece of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. "But you could be mine, couldn't you, Willow?"

She hated her name then. She hated that he knew it, knew her, without them ever having met.

Willow hated herself entirely in that moment. She hated her reputation, her career, her life. She hated her addiction and her self-destructive tendencies. She hated that he would touch her now, use her, degrade her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"C'mon, baby," he was in front of her now, his hand on her hip. She hadn't noticed him move. "Let's have some fun. What James doesn't know won't hurt him."

"I—I don't belong to him," Willow's voice shook and her body trembled. Tears prickled at her eyes and she struggled to catch her breath.

Pedro, she wanted to say. Her heart and soul, and her body, if she could ever fix it, be lined to Pedro. Not James.

She could feel his kisses on her neck then, wet and reeking of alcohol, and she could feel his hand tighten at her waist.

Willow felt like she were in someone else's body. She knew it was her body, knew it was her skin being violated, her bile climbing in her throat, her heart nearly beating from her chest.

But it didn't feel like her body.

His hands reached under her thin sweater and she recoiled at his touch, tears slipping from her eyes.

"Please stop," she begged quietly, her voice finding her at last.

He didn't listen, chuckled into her neck and sucked on it gently. He was marking her. She'd be forced to stare at that spot forever, knowing this unnamed stranger had marked her. Had violated her. Had laughed at and mocked her.

"Beg me again."

Sickness sloshed in her stomach as he pressed himself against her. She couldn't take it. The alcohol, the drugs, this...this feeling. She couldn't take it all tonight.

As he reached down to unbutton his pants, he grabbed her hand, dropping the blunt from it — had she managed to hold onto it the entire time? She wondered how much time had passed. Hours, it seemed like, and yet, no time at all — and shoved it into his pants.

She felt his hard length under her hand and instinctively tried to move away. He tugged her hand back down, moaning at the feeling of her hand wrapped around him.

"Please, stop," she tried again weakly, wanting to pull away but knowing it was futile.

She could hardly keep herself up, her head was spinning, and she'd surely puke at any moment.

"Please," she whimpered as he grunted in front of her.

He didn't respond, just continued stroking his length with her hand, and removed his free hand from under her shirt.

Hope swelled in her for a second but it died quickly after when he placed it under her jaw, pushing her head back roughly against the wall of James' house.

James.

For the briefest of moments, she wished he were here. Maybe he would stop this. His so-called "friend's" sexual assault on her. Maybe he would comfort her and hold her.

But she remembered his laugh when she sucked him off in his bedroom and his friends laughed and cheered him on.

He wouldn't protect her from any of this; he'd probably get off on it.

"Fucking slut," the man brought her attention back. She so desperately wanted to go back into her head, to keep herself from his violations. Her hand was moving on his accord, like it didn't belong to her.

Another whimper fell from her throat, and tears slipped down at the realization that her body wasn't her own. Not anymore. Not after this man so callously claimed it, as though she were a whore in the street. At least they were payed for their troubles.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," the man grunted, hand tightening around her throat. Her breath caught in her throat and she reached her free hand up to move his hand, but he only tightened his grip, moving her left hand faster and faster up his shaft.

Not thirty seconds later, he shuddered and groaned, coming over her, his load ejecting over her clothes and hand.

Her breath was tight and her lungs were struggling to keep any oxygen. She gasped for air, but he didn't care.

He took a few breaths to steady himself then pulled away from her, leaving her gasping, clutching her throat with her newly stained hands.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She blurted our through tears. "What the fuck was — fuck you."

"What?" The man shrugged, butting his pants. "Not like anyone's gonna know. Or believe you. Fucking psycho bitch," he laughed coldly, shaking his head and walking back down the house and into the light of the entrance.

Willow trembled to herself, wiping her hands on her pants, the reality of the situation settling in. The sick feeling from earlier took over and her stomach contents emptied on the ground in front of her.

"Fuck," she cried out and wiped her face with her sleeve. "Fuck, fuck, what the fuck just happened?"

She covered her mouth with her hand, making the mistake of inhaling and dry heaving at the scent of him on her.

She reached in her pocket for her phone but found it missing. Her breathing quickened and she searched around the spot where he'd assaulted her, looking for the phone. She couldn't see in the dimly lit side of the house and knelt down. Thankful she'd worn jeans, she moved her hands along the grass, feeling for her phone.

"Please for the love of—"

There it was. She clutched it gratefully, hands trembling as she pulled up the contact information.

He answered on the first ring.

"Pedro?" Her voice cracked. "Can you—can you please, I'm—I'm at James' and—and—and this man, and — I'm really drunk and high and fucked up right now, I need—I shouldn't have called you, I—"

"—Baby, hey, it's okay, it's okay. Take a breath, corazón. I'm on my way. Where's Frankie? I thought he'd have followed you. Or Robert?"

Robert. Guilt flooded her. She'd left him at her house, asleep on the couch after the Fellowship of the Ring.

And she'd told Frankie she was heading to be. He fell asleep on the sofa next to Robert, head cocked up and snoring loudly.

He hadn't a clue. He thought — he thought he was taking care of her, and he was. She'd betrayed him. Him and Frankie. She was so fucked in the head. Look where it all led her?

"Don't do that," Pedro's voice brought her back. "Don't you dare think that to yourself. It's okay. It's okay to feel this way. Can you—meet me at the end of the road, I'll be there in ten minutes. Can you stay on the line, corazón?"

"How will you be here so soon?" She found herself asking.

His light laugh. "I have a fast driver. Is anyone with you? What'd you take?"

"N-no," Willow shook her head, wrapping her arm around herself, trying not to think of the man that violated her only moments ago. Was he still watching? Preying? Waiting?

"I had coke, two lines," she continued, her voice trembling. "Or three maybe? An-and some beer. Two or—or three, I think, I can't remember," she hiccuped, seeing cars pass by her on the street.

A van waited ominously down the road and fear flooded her:

"Pedro, I think there's paparazzi here—they'll—you have to go away. I'll—I'll find another way home and—"

"Absolutely fucking not. I'm almost there. Let them take pictures. At least I'll be with you. You don't need to go through this alone."

Minutes passed and Willow watched the van. Pedro said quiet things in her ear through the phone but she couldn't focus on any of them. She wondered if they were taking photos of her now. Had they seen what happened?

She glanced up the hill with the iron gate towards the house with the blaring music. She couldn't make out the spot, it was too dark. Had they? With cameras?

She felt sick again, imagining that splashed all over the front page. It was bad enough they'd get her like this.

A small black Honda pulled up in front of her and the back door opened immediately.

"Hey, hey," she heard Pedro's voice over the phone and in person.

He grabbed her phone, clicking the end button and tossing it into the backseat.

"Oh, baby," he said quietly, taking in her disheveled appearance. She wondered what she looked like and took a glance down at herself in the light of the headlights.

Sweater pulled down one shoulder, covered in white semen, hand sticky. She was sure her eyes were bloodshot and she probably looked terrified and stoned.

What a sight.

"C'mere," he tugged her to him and she jumped at the touch, her mind reeling over the night's events.

He pulled back immediately, scanning her face. "I thought," his face darkened. "I thought this was coke or a drink—Willow, what happened?"

Willow didn't answer. She wanted to tell him. Wanted to hug him and cry into his chest. But she could say anything. She couldn't feel anything. She felt so numb, so defeated, so used.

"Hey," he pressed his hands gently on her cheeks. "It's okay, Willow, come on, we're gonna go home now, okay?"

She nodded and he helped her into the car, instructing the driver to her house.

Her hand fell to his and she tried to pull it away. She didn't want to stain him, too. Didn't want him to be marked by the man that hurt her.

She didn't want his bright light to be blacked out by her darkness.

But he grabbed it, holding it, grasping it tightly. He didn't say anything, just held her hand tightly.

Touched both physically and metaphorically by his kindness and love, she choked out a sob, scooting closer to him. He only let go of her hand for a second, to grasp it with his left, and pulled her to his chest with his right.

"It's okay, amor," he murdered against her, running his right hand along her back, quieting her broken sobs. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'll always be here."

—

lowkey wanted to write "daddy's here" but I don't think we're there yet 😭  (yes at some point we will be idc if I were dating pedro I would call him daddy)
this chapter is LOADED I'm so sorry. I also hate hate writing SA because it's not something we should fetishize and I tried to do my best to make it painful for her (as horrible as that sounds) But honestly Willow needed a wake up call and sometimes you have to hit absolute rock bottom.
hopefully you guys don't hate me too much ik this story is a lot.
Promise it's only up from here!