Here's a sad fact—if a woman was sexually assaulted in the Victorian era, she was often considered a nymphomaniac and therefore scorned. Sometimes, they would even be admitted to an asylum and have their genitals mutilated to remove the "desire" for the assault. Could you imagine?

…

So, at this point, everyone knows that I was forced to remove Lemon Island and its mature content due to the Eliminator Forum viciously attacking and trolling me. I'm going to move ALL my mature stories to a new website so I don't have to deal with it again. I'm going to post ONLY the first chapter here. All mature content and any following chapters will be posted on Archive of Our Own.

Anyway, I have MOVED this story COMPLETELY to another site. You can find this STORY and all its subsequent UPDATES here, remove spaces and stars: h*t*t*p :/ archiveofourown. o*r*g /works/817341

I have the same penname there as I do here: ParadiseAvenger

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Ciel Phantomhive didn't know what made him think it could all just go back to normal after that never-ending month of hell. Maybe it was the last shred of childhood innocence left in his heart because surely that was something only a child would believe—it was over. He had survived. He had been saved. He had killed his tormentors so they could never hurt him again. He came home and rebuilt the manor. He hired servants and moved on with his life and his revenge. It was over, right?

But it wasn't. Maybe it never would be.

Ciel became very aware of just how not over it was when his aunt, Angelina, learned that he had somehow survived the fire that destroyed his home. She didn't know the extent of what had happened to him and when she laid eyes on him, she embraced him tightly as aunts were often prone to do. She was crying and she smelled of crushed roses and fresh air. It should have been a comfort to him to be gently held after such a long eternity of being hurt, but… it wasn't.

And it was then—wrapped in the arms he had once loved, an embrace that would never harm him—that he screamed in abject terror.

The arms of his precious aunt faded from his mind and he was instead circled by masked faces leering at him cruelly. Her softly-gloved hands melted away into the rough hands of his tormentors, pawing his raw aching skin that had never been touched. Though birds were singing, all he could suddenly hear was the whine of the metal as it was heated to brand him. The scent of roses and Sebastian's freshly-made sweets faded until all he could smell was blood and death.

All at once, it was as if he had never been saved. It was as if he was still there in that terrible place.

Who was screaming? One of the other brutalized children? But no… they were all already dead. Then, that poor pathetic voice must have been his. God, he was screaming so loudly that something in his throat must have broken from the exertion.

"Young master." Sebastian's voice seemed to come from a long ways off, seeping in through the darkness. "It's alright. You're safe now."

"S-Sebastian," he breathed out and stretched out a hand to his butler.

Sebastian allowed Ciel to grip his fingers for a moment before sliding them away. After all, Angelina was still standing there, watching them with a stricken look on her face. If her own nephew screamed in her gentle embrace, she wouldn't want to see him fall eagerly into the arms of a lowly butler.

"My young master is tired and has much to recover from," Sebastian said smoothly. "Perhaps it would be best to visit another time."

"Ciel," Angelina breathed out. "Why…?"

But Ciel didn't answer. His shoulders were shaking, his one visible eye far-seeing as if still trapped within a nightmare.

"This way please, Madam," Sebastian murmured and led the distraught red-dressed woman from the foyer where she had embraced Ciel. He gave her a cup of tea spiked with brandy to settle her nerves before ushering her into her waiting carriage.

"W-what happened to him? Why did he scream?" Angelina whispered softly, not to Sebastian though. Maybe she was talking to the God that had allowed her nephew to be tormented so. If that was the case, Sebastian did not intend to dignify such questions with an answer of his own. God had abandoned Ciel, but the demon had answered the boy's cries. Ciel was Sebastian's now, more so even than his aunt's.

Now, Sebastian instead spoke to her coachman and watched the carriage make its way down the repaired drive. Once he was certain they would not be returning anytime soon, he went back into the manor and hurried to Ciel's side.

The boy was still in the same place though he had slumped to his knees, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he trembled. "Why?" he whispered brokenly. "It was Aunt Ann… She wasn't going to hurt me so why did those memories…?"

Sebastian gently touched Ciel's back. "Young master," he said quietly.

Ciel turned to look at his butler. The boy's face was chalky-pale, his blue eye wide and red-rimmed, and the smooth bandages covering his other eye made him look more the victim than he already was. His hair shadowed his face, mouth hanging open to suck in desperate breaths of ragged air. "Sebastian," he whimpered, very much a child. "Why? Why did that happen?"

Sebastian's voice was crisp and sensible. "Things like that are not so easily recovered from, young master. They will not go away simply because I removed you from their clutches."

Ciel hugged himself tightly, tears burning in his eyes. Even when he was safe, it still wasn't over. That realization was enough to chip into his already broken heart. How long would he suffer before an ounce of normalcy returned to his life? Or would he be trapped in this hellish limbo, terribly scared and emotionally fragile, forever?

"A bath," Sebastian continued, "would be nice now, wouldn't it, young master?"

Ciel didn't answer. He remained crumpled on the floor, shivering, with his hands wrapped over his thin shoulders.

Sebastian sighed. He was, after all, first and foremost a demon. He was frustrated with Ciel's lapses in and out of despair and post-traumatic shock. He was tired of stopping his duties to sooth the child from a nightmare or change the wet sheets on the bed or coddle the boy into a warm bath. But… even a demon could admit that Ciel had been through a terrible ordeal and it was to be expected that he would suffer so severely. It wasn't as if he could grudge Ciel for his pain. Not many adults could have survived what that child went through, but Ciel had lived and his soul would be delicious when Sebastian finally reached the end of their contract and devoured the child. So, for now, Sebastian acted kindly and took tender care of the badly-damaged boy.

…

INSERT VIOLENT NIGHTMARE HERE. (1)

Sharply, Ciel lurched up in his bed, both hands thrust out as if such frail limbs could protect him. A scream tore from his throat, but it diminished against the walls as he panted for breath. The sheets were wet and hideous shame welled up in Ciel's chest. He was ten years old… Such childish things like wetting the bed were supposed to be long over and done with, but that nightmare… His fear had been paralyzing, the pain pushing his small body over the edge.

Ciel climbed out of bed, shivering as the cool night air pressed against his wet nightshirt, and turned on all the lights on his way to the bathroom. Maybe if all the lights were on, he would be safe from those monsters. Once safely inside the brightly-lit bathroom, he turned the hot water on and crawled into the porcelain tub. He could only sit there in the hot water, trembling, trying to will the nightmare away. He didn't even realize he was sobbing, great broken heaving cries, until Sebastian entered the bathroom and spoke.

…

As a demon, Sebastian didn't need to sleep, but he enjoyed the luxury occasionally. Tonight, he had merely been lying on the bed, resting contentedly, when he heard his master crying out in the throes of a nightmare. Even then, he waited to see what would become of it. Occasionally, Ciel managed to lull himself back to sleep, but tonight was not to be one of those nights. He heard the child whimpering shamefully and then a beam of light filtered beneath Sebastian's door and did not turn off. He heard water start in the bathroom and then the sounds of hideous sobbing reached him.

Sebastian rose from his bed, not bothering to pull on his tailcoat. He made his way to Ciel's bedroom and changed the wet sheets. Kindly, he pushed them into the washing machine and began laundering them so as to disguise Ciel's affliction from the rest of the household. Then, hoping the boy might have pulled himself together by now and ceased crying, Sebastian made his way to the bathroom. "So many lights," he murmured to himself, but then again, Ciel was only a child afraid of the dark and with good reason to fear.

Sebastian entered the bathroom without knocking and took in the sight that awaited him. Ciel, still wearing his nightshirt, was slumped in the tub. His skin was the same white of the porcelain and the fabric of his shirt so that he almost looked like nothing more than a mop of wet dark hair and paler scars. His legs were drawn tightly against his chest, arms wrapped around them, and if the shaking of his shoulders was any indication, he was crying terribly.

The hot water had steamed the mirror and all the bathroom lights were burning brightly.

"Young master," Sebastian said quietly so as not to frighten him, but Ciel jolted anyway. Water sloshed over the rim of the tub, violently, noisily.

"S-Sebastian," the boy whispered and his eyes welled with fresh tears. "Do you think I-I'm… built for sin?"

Surprised by the question, Sebastian didn't have a cool and collected answer for the young boy. Instead, the demon in him showed forefront and he said, "Well, you did summon a demon. You aren't exactly God's disciple."

Ciel's eyes shone with tears and he sobbed raggedly, pressing his hand over his mouth.

All at once, Sebastian realized that had been the wrong answer and he struggled to find the correct words to smooth over his faux pas, but nothing came to him. He just stared into the child's face, into the damaged eye forever marred with the sign of their contract, into the scars that were so visible on his heart and soul just as they were on his fragile body.

Ciel stared right back at him, weeping quietly, his gaze unwavering. Then, he suddenly turned away and buried his face into his folded arms, body wracked with violent cries. "When will this end?" he sobbed, voice muffled and cracked. "I don't want any more nightmares. I want to be able to touch people without seeing their faces, without feeling their hands on me, without… screaming. When will it be over? I just… want it to be… over…"

Sebastian stared at the boy's trembling body, listened to his sobbing, and felt uncharacteristically lost. He had no idea what to do to comfort this child. Instead, he focused on just getting the boy out of the cooling water and into some fresh clothes.

Ciel let himself be dried and redressed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He stood there, shivering, as Sebastian led him through the brightly-lit halls back to his bedroom. Though the butler was a demon, he still tucked the boy in, smoothing the blankets across his thighs and chest.

"Sebastian," Ciel whispered, exhaustion soaking into his muscles as the fear and adrenaline left him. "Do you really think I'm built for sin?"

This time, Sebastian said, "No."

Ciel's eyes slipped shut and he was quiet, breathing softly. Sebastian lingered at the boy's bedside for a long moment, looking at his sleeping face. For once, he wasn't merely hungry with the thought of devouring the child's soul. He felt sorrow for someone who had suffered so much and still had no solace in sight. He wished there was something he could do to soothe the boy's fears and nightmares, but he had done his part—he had slayed the monsters that had tortured the child. That was really all he could do… wasn't it?

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(1) To read this story in its original content, please read it on Archive of Our Own. Link at the top.

Questions, comments, concerns?