Chapter 70 Dio’s Journal - Entry 17
I needed some time before I could write this.
That day when Chaosta was in my room, she began to slowly strip out of her hood and then some other layer of clothing.
She was standing there on my bed in just a thin shirt.
It was stretched over her body. It showed everything, I could see the peaks of her nipples through the fabric. I was completely frozen.
I’m such a bastard, I knew I needed to tell her to stop, to leave, to find someone else, but I couldn’t. I was far too weak to do that with her standing there so close.
I never wanted to take advantage of her, I just couldn’t figure out my shit. I had just started to reach out to her to stop her, get her to sit down on the bed, and talk before she did something she would regret. Then she pulled her shirt off, and I saw them.
Fuck I want to tear this page into tiny pieces. As though that will help.
Be. Factual. Dio. Come on.
Chaosta is covered in scars. They’re all about the same size, same length, same angle.
Other than one, larger, puckered scar on her abdomen, just below her ribs, that looks like an old stab wound.
I can’t emphasize enough how many of them there are.
The scars cover every inch of her torso and her upper arms down to nearly her elbows.
Based on what I could see, it looks like there may be more that were covered by her skirt.
I have no doubt they’re from torture. I may not have Fem’s experience with healing, but I haven’t had an easy life despite my parents’ early attempts to coddle me, and, while I’ve never experienced torture, I’m certain those scars didn’t come from anything else.
I couldn’t stop staring. I didn’t know what to do.
Rage like I’ve never felt before filled me.
I don’t know when she was tortured, but I’m fairly certain it was while she was imprisoned.
The timeline makes sense. My instincts were trying to tell me she was more hurt than she let on when she got back from the angel stronghold.
If I had acted quicker in getting Alexander involved, I likely could have saved her at least some pain, and the fact that I could have saved her any amount and didn’t. FUCK.
Then, after she did get out, I was too childish and just avoided her because I didn’t want her mad at me.
I didn’t ask her if she was ok. I didn’t push for her to let Fem help her.
Instead, I know now that she suffered in silence.
Here I’ve been trying to keep her safe from me, and she ended up being hurt by my stubborn refusal to get closer to her.
If I’d been closer, I wouldn’t have let anything stop me from getting her out of there.
I’d have wiped out the whole fucking lot of them in the process. I’ll never forgive myself.
Worse, as I stood there staring at her, she eventually froze.
Then she yelled at me. She was clearly angry, and I don’t blame her.
She said something about me thinking she was ugly and then pulled her shirt on and left my room, slamming the door in her wake.
When I came back to myself, I put my fist through the wall again.
I should’ve gone after her, but by the time I came out of whatever state I was in, she was too long gone, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to find her.
Not like it’s ever a good idea to put one's hand through the wall. You’d have thought I’d have figured this out after the last time.
Worse, it took a while for the others to get back to the mansion after the carnage of that concert, so I had to messily tend to it myself until Fem could look at it.
I broke bones this time, but I think the pain was the only thing that helped me keep it together after.