IT WAS HIS FAULT.

It was his fault. He thought to himself as he cried, wiping away his tears, only to have more come and sink his empty eyes once more. It was his fucking fault. It was his fault when he got brutally murdered for fun, he clearly wanted it, he was just lying to himself. It was his fault when every partner or friend he had always hurted or abused him. He deserved it. He wanted it. It was clear, It was his fault.

He knew it when he met them.

At first. they made sure not to exclude him, they talked with him often, they made jokes with him, he felt like he was real part of the team...

At first.

Eventually, they became the kind that slapped him when he talked too much, got him drunk, and always called him a "idiot."

Whatever, the result was always the same. Sitting on the floor as he cried silently.

He could have said he hated it, and he did. He could have said that he wished they were gentle with him, told him they liked him (the thought of being truly loved was beyond his comprehension), and that they enjoyed spending time with him. He could have said that, but it would have been a lie. They told him that was a lie. Again and again, they told him that he clearly wanted this. And always, for proof, they'd point to the way that instead of fighting back he just awkwardly laughed when they made fun of him, his poor body condition, or they'd point to him for being him.

That was all the proof they needed. It justified everything they did. Clearly, it was his fault, he wanted it. A victim wouldn't stayed like he did. Victims wouldn't just accept the abuse as they scream and sob hysterically.

It's what everyone told him. And when he tried to tell them otherwise, they corrected him. They would point to the truth between his bruises and scars. They made sure he never lied to them or to himself. He deserved everything they did to him. He "wanted" it. Anything else was a lie and he knew that.