Black Star Cross - 17. Chapter 17

WARNING!: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS EXTREME ACTS OF VIOLENCE, OF BOTH A PHYSICAL AND SEXUAL NATURE! IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH AROUND SUCH SUBJECTS, SUCH AS BLOOD AND RAPE, THEN PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.

Author's Notes: Please read the warning above. It is in all Caps Lock for a reason. This chapter alone is one of the reasons why this story is rated M. An interesting note: this is actually a re-edited version of the original Chapter 17. I went over it and made it more gruesome, since my then-Beta said that it could've been done better. This may or may not sit well with you people. While Chapter 17 isn't detrimental to the story plot, it will be brought up again in the next several chapters, so at least know the general concept of what is going on. If this doesn’t get me banned from the site, nothing will.

Black Star Cross

Chapter 17: Nightmare on Memory Lane

When I woke up, I saw that the entire room was dark. I must’ve dozed off for the rest of the day. I hope that Emmy isn’t too worried about me. I tried to get out of bed, but somehow I couldn’t. I then realized that I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I was handcuffed to the bed! Now I was starting to get scared. I tried thrusting my hands and legs, trying to break the handcuffs off the bed, but it was no use.

I looked around at my surroundings and saw that I was no longer in my room. Oh God, where was I at? I didn’t know where I was; it was so dark that I couldn’t even see any of walls at all. There was no sound either. It was dead silent in the room. I could actually hear my heart thumping against my chest. I could hear my breathing quicken and becoming more rigid.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming towards me. I began to sweat from the fear of who this person might be. A rapist? A serial killer? A terrorist? I swear I was about ready to cry from the hopelessness of it all. With my luck, it’s probably Jason Voorhees. The footsteps were drawing closer.

I could see somebody starting to emerge from the shadows. Who was it? I tried to look up, but found that my head was also bound to the bed. I couldn’t see who it was. The footsteps, this person, were almost at the bed now. They stopped just at it, but I couldn’t see them. Sweat was pouring out of every pore. I was breathing heavily, sure that I was going to throw up all over myself. I was going to die. Right here, right now. Nobody would know about it. This guy could do whatever he wanted with my body. My family wouldn’t come looking for me. Emmy wouldn’t have a clue as to where to look. I don’t even know where I am. The police would never be notified. And Anthony...what would he do? Would he bother to look for me? Would he even notice? Or care? Or would he simply thank God that I wasn’t around anymore?

The person leaned over me so that I could see his face. It was Anthony, decked out in hot red pants that I swear came from the ‘80s, and a tight red muscle shirt. I was thankful that he had found me before whomever it was that bound me to my bed came back. I tried expressing my gratitude to him, but no sound came from my throat. Did I have a hoarse throat? Did the perpetrator do something to my throat? I do remember smiling at Anthony, glad that he had come to rescue me. That was when a crooked smile formed on his face, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“Fucking faggot,” he spat at me.

Then he drew back his fist and hit me, hard, square in the stomach. That one punch alone knocked the wind out of me. It hurt so much. Why was he doing this?! I cried out in pain, but that only encouraged Anthony to lay another punch on me. And another. And another.

“Think you’re better than me, huh?” he said as he was beating me up. “Think that you can just boss me around? Tell ME what to do? Like you know everything in the universe? I don’t think so. You don’t know squat. You don’t know how high school works. You don’t know how popularity works. You don’t know how to be kind to others. You don’t know how I feel. You don’t know how others feel. You can’t even figure out how your own MOM feels!”

He kept landing another blow after each accusation he said. Why was he saying this?! None of it was true! I know perfectly well how high school works! I’ve been subjected to its horrors for years! I know how others feel- their cold, judging eyes! Separating themselves from everything and everybody who’s different! Alienating those they deem worthy to be outcasts! I know how Anthony feels! He loves me! He’s just too afraid to do anything about it! I know how my mom feels! She’s part of the reason why Dad’s dead! She lied to me, saying that he’d be back soon! He NEVER came back! She’s just like the rest of them! Always judging me! Always looking down on me! Disgusted at me! Anthony’s lying! I looked back up to him to see that same malicious smirk on his face.

“Let me guess. You think that what I’m saying is lies, don’t you?” My eyes grew big. How did he know that that was what I was thinking? “That you know perfectly well how others think. Heh, you’re such a fucking idiot!”

He slammed his fist across the side of my head again. The pain...so intense.

“Maybe that might jump-start your pathetic, puny little brain of yours! You think you know shit? Think again, asshole! You think that all of your opinions about things and about people are 100% true. That you can’t possibly be wrong. Well the world doesn’t always go according to your fucked-up plans!”

He punched the side of my stomach. I was sure that I heard something crack.

“Have you ever thought that you just might be WRONG about some things?! Maybe the world isn’t exactly the same as how you see it!"

After he had said his spiel, he pulled out a rather large pocket knife. My eyes, already in tears, bulged at the sight of it. I was already bleeding from the mouth; nowhere on my body did I not feel pain. Again, I screamed for him to stop, but I couldn’t make a sound. Was he actually going to use that...that butcher’s knife on me?! I tried to squirm futilely, but the shackles continued to hold me into place.

“Yeah, now you’re going to know how it feels. Now you’re going to know how it feels to be in so much pain, in so much turmoil, and know that no one can just ‘magically’ fix it. No Band-Aid is gonna fix this.”

He brought the knife down to my right arm, stabbed me with it, and dragged the blade down to my elbow. Blood started pouring out of the gash. I screamed in pain and agony, more so than any other time that I could remember. This hurt SO MUCH MORE than when he was just hitting me.

“You know what? I probably could’ve gone through with it. I could have eventually give in and become your lover, your boyfriend. All I needed was a little more time. Just a little more time to figure things out in my head. But no, YOU had to repeatedly push things!”

Now the bloody blade was at my stomach, slicing a thin line under my bellybutton, causing even more blood to drip out, even more pain to me. How much could I endure? How much blood lost before I...

“You wanted things too badly. You got too greedy in your own sick, selfish fantasy. Did you ever stop to consider how I might have felt about the whole thing? Maybe I wasn’t ready! Maybe I didn’t WANT to be in a relationship with you! Maybe, just maybe, I DIDN’T REALLY LIKE YOU THAT WAY!!!”

With each word in his last sentence, he either punched me in the gut again, forcing even more of my blood to seep out, or he used his knife to slice into me again, this time on either leg. I was surprised that I wasn’t dead yet, with all the blood that I was losing. But, then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was purposely keeping me alive to make the torture that much more unbearable.

It was at this time that I figured that things couldn’t get any worse. Of course, anytime anybody says that, it always gets worse. In this case, Anthony brought the blood-soaked knife down to my groin. I tried screaming again, but to no avail. I tried shaking my head, but I doubt that he noticed or cared. I tried shaking free of the binds instinctively, but that still didn’t work.

“What? It’s not like you’re using them or anything. I know that you’re a true bottom boy. You want my fat cock up your ass, ripping you in two as you scream in pleasure. You never wanted to take me. You don’t even know how to use your package properly. You might as well not have them.”

I was trying to look as his face, trying to show him the fear in my eyes and beg for him to stop, but the restraint on my head would not allow it. I don’t think he had any intentions in stopping either. He looked up at me, saw the restraint on my head, and took it off in a flash.

“I want you to see this when it happens. I want to see your face when I strip you of any last masculinity you still have. I want to see you writhe in agony. I want to hear you scream in bloody murder…though, I guess you can’t do that, can ya? Or else you would’ve done that a long time ago. I want you to see just how much of a sissy faggot you are. You’re practically a girl. I think I will personally enjoy this. So much so, in fact, that I plan to draw out that face as much as possible. How, you might ask? Simple.”

He brought the blade under my left testicle.

“I’ll just remove the whole thing one piece at a time. Starting with this fellow right here.”

And before I could react to what he had just said, he jerked the knife and ripped through the scrotum, detaching one of my balls from my body. I felt like screaming; I tried to scream, but my vocal chords still seemed to be missing. I had never felt so much pain in my life. I just wanted to die right there. Blood was spilling everywhere. I saw the testicle roll onto the floor, covered in my blood, and I saw Anthony stomp on it with his shoe. He swerved his foot around, like one would after stepping on a cockroach. He laughed in a sadistic manner.

“Awwww...did that hurt? Do ya feel like dying right about now? I know I would. But then again, I know that I’m not going to Hell when I die, no matter what.”

My eyes widened again when he said that. Did he know about the dream?

“Hell yeah, I know all about those dreams of yours. About that ‘black void’ of death that you experienced, twice. I know all about that second dream you had, too. The one where all you saw was the red light. You know what that means?”

He positioned the blade under my remaining ball, grasping the entire scrotum with his other hand to ensure that this ball didn’t get out through the new opening as well.

“It means that God gave up on you. I mean, it was obvious that He was going to anyways. You mistreat your family, who only wanted to show that they cared about you; you thought the worst in everybody that you knew, even the ones that you didn’t knew; you refused to embrace the true meaning of Christmas, said that it was ‘a Hallmark holiday’ and that it was raped by Hallmark of all its sentimental value. It was Jesus Christ’s birthday! It’s one of the holiest days of the year, and you treat it as if it’s another annoyance in your ‘miserable’ life! You refused to acknowledge other people’s feelings. You refused to think in any way other than your own. But the worst thing was...that you were fucking gay. A flaming, flamboyant, filthy, disease-ridden, Devil-spawned FAGGOT!!!”

He swiftly brought up the knife, severing the other ball and causing the remaining blood down there to drain out of me. I knew now that I could no longer have any kids. I was now effectively sterile. Is this God’s punishment? I was gay after all, so it wasn’t like I could procreate or anything. I couldn’t naturally create a child with a woman, so what’s the difference between not making a baby and being sterile? But for some reason, it still felt wrong for me to be this. Anthony had robbed me of something I didn’t want to let go.

“You seem to be forgetting about something here.” he said.

He then pointed the tip of the knife at my dick. I prayed that he wouldn’t follow through with his actions. He had already taken too much away from me. But of course, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. He grabbed my dick and pulled it out as far as it would go and then some, hurting me even more.

“As they always say: if you don’t use it,” he said, bringing the knife over his shoulders. “You lose it!”

And he brought the knife down, slicing my last bit of masculinity off me, castrating me from myself. The pain was excruciating, both physically and mentally. Anthony just stood there, laughing while my blood dripped off his face and onto my half-dead body. I had long since started crying from all the pain. I was surprised that I still had tears left. I couldn’t believe that I had caused him so much pain as to that he would actually enjoy doing something like this. Had I been that selfish? Had I been that wrong? Was what he was saying actually be true?

“Don’t worry,” he said, with a sneer that frightened me down to the bone. “It will all be over soon.”

What did he mean by that? I know that it’s not good. Anthony unshackled me from the bed and dragged my bloody carcase over to a different mechanism. Since I was so beaten and weak, I couldn’t really struggle or try to get away. He bent me over the thing and shackled me into place using new straps. I suddenly realized that in this new position, it left my ass wide open. He wasn’t! He couldn’t!

“Oh, but I am,” he replied, as if he could hear my thoughts again. “Isn’t that what you wanted? You’re no longer a man, so I can freely fuck you whenever and wherever I want. You’re mine now, bitch! And best of all...”

He suddenly slammed his huge cock inside of me. No warning, no lube, no condom, no easing it in. He was raping me. I could feel the blood come spurting out of my ass as he literally ripped my skin apart.

“...I don’t have to be fucking careful or loving or any of that shit! I can fuck you raw like the degrading animal that you are!”

The pain-splitting rape went on forever until I couldn’t take anymore. I felt worthless; I felt ashamed; I felt like I had deserved this. I did. All the things he’s said before, they were all true. I didn’t know squat. I was as bad as the people I thought to be bad. I was no better than the people I hated, if not worse. I then felt him climaxing inside of my ass, each spurt felt like fire, scorching anything that it touched. Tears started to resume running down my face as he took the last thing I had, my virginity, and shoved it in my face. Once he was done with that, he stayed inside of me while bringing his blade up to my neck.

“I should have you blow me,” he whispered into my ear. “Clean me off, maybe get a taste of what a man really tastes like. Have you lick your own blood and shit off my cock. Make you beg for more. But I won’t.

Well, it’s been fun. I really enjoyed myself. Did you? No? Why, I’m surprised. You always were a glutton for punishment. I thought that you would like this. Well, the party’s over and I figure that I could do you one last favor and end your pain. It’s time to kill the faggot.”

It was all over now. In a way, I was glad. I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. I wouldn’t have to endure all this pain. From what Anthony had just told me, everybody else would be glad that this happened as well. I mistreated them, and now this is my punishment. I felt the knife slash across my neck.