Chapter Text
Will’s POV:
The test results were sitting in my inbox. Every time I thought about opening that email, I would start sobbing again. I had just spent the last 36 hours being the most pathetic version of myself, endlessly sobbing into my pillow.
I needed to take something. Nico was going to be home in five hours, and he couldn’t find me like this. Maybe being a bit strung out might make hearing the news that my rapist gave me an incurable disease more bearable. Oh gods. I couldn’t help the panic attack that accompanied the tears.
With my stress level at an all-time high, I was jonesing horribly. I knew I wasn’t at risk of going into immediate withdrawal, but that could become a concern if not addressed. My last dose was 40 hours ago. I’d done my best to spread out my usage, but I needed this now.
I retrieved the drugs from their hiding spot under the bed and threw them on the bed. The oxy was calling out to me like a siren. As I reached for them, I couldn’t shake the bad feeling I was getting. I wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Then I remembered the email I needed to open, and that didn’t matter.
I grabbed the bottle and opened it. The feeling of need was almost all-consuming. Then I had a flash of being disoriented, being dragged to Nikki’s sorority house. I dropped the bottle on my bed like it burned me. I couldn’t do this, but I couldn’t stop either.
I tried to reach for some of the spilled pills again. I heard some part of me beg, “Stop. Stop. Please stop.” As I ignored my internal pleas and grabbed enough pills to give me a short high. I realized that I had lost control. I honestly didn’t want to do this anymore, but I’d lost the ability to choose.
I didn’t want to dry swallow, so I left the pills in my dorm room and went to get a cup of water. As I walked back into my room, I heard the voice of reason say, “You don’t have to do this.” I wanted that to be true, but it wasn’t. As I picked up the pills, the voice of paranoia started, “You’re going to get caught. It’s just a matter of time.”
For some reason, that thought got through to me, because it was right. This was unsustainable and dangerous. I needed to make a choice. Either I was going to give in to the depression I was trying to outrun, right now, and down the bottle, or I was going to get sober. The decision to keep going was harder than it should have been.
I started pacing across my dorm room. If I was going to even make a run at getting sober, I needed help. Nico was going to be home in four hours. I wasn’t going to make it that long. That I was 100% sure of. I could text him my emergency code, and he would be here in less than 10 seconds in a panic. I knew if he was panicked and worried, confessing would be near impossible.
I retrieved my cuff from the back of my sock drawer. I was looking for any tangible reminder that getting high again was a bad idea. The silver was damning. Looking at it finally felt like confronting the truth. I knew the feeling of shame wasn’t going to be enough to keep me from getting high, though.
I dropped the cuff on the bed and grabbed my phone. I texted Jason, silver before I could talk myself out of it. Jason would know what it meant. I’d sent him the text orange a few times over the last three years when Nico wasn’t available. He was aware of the code: orange- I’m struggling, red- I’ve cut, silver- I’ve used. Sending a single word cry for help was so much easier than having to spell it out.
Sending that text drained everything out of me. I crumpled on the floor, next to the bed, crying. My life was going to burn down in spectacular fashion in the next several hours. I was going to have to open the test results and somehow live with them. I would need to explain how I got high, drugged, and raped. Oh gods, I wasn’t prepared in the slightest.
I heard the door open, and it sounded like the ax at an execution. I saw Jason come in looking serious. He immediately walked over to my bed and picked up the pill bottle, reading it. After that, he kneeled in front of me, taking my pulse.
“Will, how much did you take?” He asked seriously.
“I-I didn’t,” I said while crying.
“Your bracelet and text say otherwise,” he said firmly.
“On Friday, I spent 4 hours high. I last used 40 or so hours ago.” I tried to take a deep breath.
“Okay, what all did you take on Friday?” He asked.
“Oxy. Triple the prescribed amount.”
Jason stood up, gathered the pills, and put them back in the bottle. “Are these prescribed to you?”
“No.” He knew that already, I assumed.
He let out a sigh and hung his head. I could feel his disappointment. “Was this a single night of bad decisions or… more?”
I shut my eyes before confessing, “A little more than two weeks ago, I bought some Adderall to study. Not too long after that, I started getting high on oxy. Every two days, I would spend 6-8 hours high.”
My eyes flew open as I felt Jason's hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t stop the small, involuntary flinch from contact. I hoped he didn’t notice. He was sitting in front of me. His expression was kind. “Will, I’m proud of you for asking for help. I have a few more pressing questions, then we can talk through whatever you want, okay?”
“Yeah.” Hearing I wasn’t a disappointment was such a relief.
“Have you been using enough that at some point you are going to start going into withdrawals?” I could hear his concern over my health.
I leaned my head back against the bed. “Yeah.” No point in running from the truth anymore.
“How long till that kicks in?” He looks even more concerned.
“I think I have 8 hours.” Fuck, this had gotten bad.
“We are getting you checked into the hospital before then.” I was about to protest when Jason cut me off. “I’m not debating this. Withdrawal can be lethal. You need medical supervision.” I nodded. I knew he was right, but didn’t like it.
“Are these all the drugs you have?”
“No. There is a hidden spot behind the bed lift in the back corner. There is a bottle of Adderall there.”
He retrieved the bottle, then said as he walked out of the room, “I’m going to flush these.”
Even though I still felt like warmed-up garbage, I had had enough of the floor and went to sit on the bed. I heard a ping from my email, reminding me of why I had started to go off the deep end in the first place, and I started panicking and crying all over again. Jason came back in a minute later and joined me on the bed.
After a moment, he said, “I imagine relapsing can be devastating. The next few weeks are going to be really hard, but is there anything else going on?” He asked, both suspicious and concerned. When he went to put his arm around me in comfort, I violently flinched from the contact. He looked startled, and his eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “Will,” he paused, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “Were you assaulted?” He asked softly.
Jason was smart and observant. With my emotions being so raw, I didn’t have a chance of hiding anything. I nodded. I didn’t think he meant sexually, but the word still applied.
“Do you need to go to the doctor?” He said, appraising me for injuries.
“Already went this morning,” I replied flatly. I didn’t want to talk about this, no matter how inevitable it was.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. Test results are in my email, and I can’t bring myself to read them.” Jason looked confused but offered to read them for me. I nodded. Maybe that would be easier. He grabbed my laptop off the desk and pulled it towards himself.
I could see the moment he realized what the test was for. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, but didn’t make any comment as he opened the file.
“I’m just going to warn you that if it’s bad, you’re probably going to need to stop me from killing myself. I’m not kidding.” I genuinely didn’t think I could mentally handle having to live the rest of my life with a physical reminder of being raped. I couldn’t look at Jason as he read the results.
A moment later, Jason got my attention. He had a gentle smile on his face. “You’re fine. All tests came back negative.”
I started crying in relief. The immediate release of worry was overwhelming. I couldn’t catch my breath. At least I wouldn’t have a physical reminder of this to live with. When I realized she hadn’t used a condom I… She hadn’t used a condom. She hadn’t used a condom. Oh gods.
My relief was short-lived. I couldn’t process the new potential horror. “She didn’t use a condom,” I whispered. I felt like I was going to be sick. It didn’t take Jason long to catch up to what the problem was.
“Maybe she's on birth control?”
I darkly laughed, “Don’t tell me the legion skipped the part of sex ed about how mortal birth control doesn’t work on demigods? Something about the gods makes us extra fertile. The med developed for demigods is only 85% effective if both parties are taking it. Since I’m with Nico, that obviously wasn’t a concern of mine. I believe a study from 5 years ago said the likelihood of pregnancy from having sex once was 40% for legacies. It’s higher for direct descendants, with the kids of more promiscuous gods or gods having anything to do with sex being even higher.”
I laughed, conveying my obvious mental distress, and leaned my head against the wall. “I’m so totally fucked.” I couldn’t stop the tears that accompanied the involuntary laughter at how absolutely screwed I was. “Nikki’s mom is Aphrodite. My dad is Apollo. The odds almost couldn’t be worse.” Jason put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, but didn’t try to offer any words of comfort.
We sat in silence for the next ten minutes. The reality of the situation I might be in hung heavily in the air. Every time my brain tried to start processing this very real possibility, no thoughts could be completed. I couldn’t even accept that this was possible. I was attacked by a girl who couldn’t handle rejection, and now I might be the father of a child I didn’t consent to having conceived.
When Jason broke the silence, it startled me. “Will, as a matter of practicality, you have to report this.”
“Why!?” The idea of telling anyone besides Nico and Jason seemed impossible. “Best case scenario, she gets jail time, and I have to be retraumatized in front of the entire Senate. I can’t even guarantee that all of the senators will be on my side based on some disturbing homophobic remarks Nico has overheard. Worst case, I’m not believed, and she weasels her way out of this. I get a drug charge because I was high that night. My information gets leaked, and then everyone speculates whether I was actually raped or if I’m an attention-seeking liar. The risks are way too high. No.”
“Okay, first, are you planning on doing something to quit, rehab, therapy, or whatever? Details can be figured out later.”
I didn’t follow the topic change, but I consider the idea. Trying to be honest with myself, probably for the first time in months, was hard. It had been too easy to ignore the truth that things had been going downhill for a while before the drugs, and after I had refused to take a hard look at what I was doing. I was positive I wasn’t going to like the answer to how much trouble I was in with my drug use.
Taking stock of the situation, I had a problem and needed real help. I’d used oxy when I didn’t really want to because I needed to avoid withdrawals. I spent a not insignificant portion of my day having to plan when and how I could get high. It was slowly taking more to get me high than it used to, and the cravings were always there. Fuck, I was an addict or well on my way there, and I didn’t want to live like this.
I let out a sigh, “I’ll get help.” Jason gave a small smile.
“Then legally, you are in the clear. You can’t be brought up on drug use or drug possession if you have a treatment plan. They will check to see that you are going through with it, though. Second, yes, there are ass holes in the Senate, but that is only a handful. Third, victim privacy protections are extensive. This won’t get out.
Now, with all of that being said, it's ultimately your choice, but you just admitted there is a greater than 40% chance she is pregnant with your child.” Hearing that felt like a sucker punch. I felt like I was going to be sick. “Are you really going to be fine with her raising your child? She is a monster. I don’t think you want to leave them in the arms of a predator. New Rome has an adoption waiting list a mile long if you don’t want to raise them.”
I sat there in shocked silence. He was right. I hated it, but he was right. In my order of priorities, protecting children was higher than protecting my reputation or avoiding reliving my trauma.
“You’re right,” I begrudgingly admitted. “How do I do this?”
“We should call Nico.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew we would have to talk eventually, but it was a terrifying prospect. What if he hated me for the drug use? What if he blamed me for getting raped because I was high? I sure did. I wasn’t ready for him to hate me.
Jason continued, “Politically, he is a force to be reckoned with. He has the power to let you skip the more bureaucratic steps and push your case to the front of the line. Overall, this will probably be less traumatic with his help. Also, based on the state of your shaking hands, we probably have less time than you estimated till those withdrawal symptoms kick in.” I hadn’t even noticed. “You’re going to want to be done with talking to people by the time the headache hits.”
“Yeah, okay. You make some good points.” I was dreading this.
“I’ll send a message to Nico to come home now.” Jason got out his phone
“Wait!” He looked at me, concerned. “I know I’m being a coward asking, but could you tell him all of this? I’m going to have to recount all of this again when I report I was r-raped.” I had to stop to slow down my breathing, “and I won’t be able to do it a third time. I’m hanging by an absolute thread at the moment. I can’t take much more.” I couldn’t even put effort into pretending I wasn’t falling apart right now.
Jason looked sympathetic. “You're not a coward. You’re hurting and sick, and you need help. Are you going to be safe if I step into the hall to message and talk to Nico?”
I paused for a beat too long. “Y-Yeah,” I could tell he didn’t believe me.
“Tylenol, draggers, razor, and blades, please,” he said, holding out his hand. I didn’t object and went around my room collecting the requested objects. I knew his concern was valid.
“Swear on the River Styx that you don’t have any other illegal drugs in this dorm room.” He said in a no-nonsense fashion.
The request was fair, given the circumstances. “I swear that I have no knowledge of any illegal drugs in this dorm room.”
“Alright, I’ll be back after talking to Nico. Do you have a Kit Kat and Gatorade I can give him?”
“Top drawer,” I said, pointing to the dresser.
He grabbed the chocolate and the drink and left the room. I just sat there waiting for my execution, sincerely hoping that Nico wouldn’t hate me.