Final Hour - 1. Chapter 1

Normally, I would enjoy the rain on a cool Friday night. Normally. But not tonight. Tonight...the raindrops against the window only helped to force my tears to run out of control from my swollen and tired eyes. My hands were shaking, my heart felt hollow and almost nonexistent. As the misery enveloped my body from head to toe, I was amazed that I was even able to dial the phone that night. To call the one person who I thought might actually give a damn that I felt this way. I was soooo tired. So emotionally empty. They say that it is better to have loved and lost, but that's all a lie. It's always been a lie. I have gained nothing from this, nothing at all. I have been told by the angels themselves that I was never meant to be happy, never meant to be loved, never meant to be beautiful, never meant to be rich, never meant to live the life I wanted to so badly. Why have I fought them off for so long? God himself has basically told me to go fuck myself, so why do I continue to defy him by remaining alive? How bad can things possibly get? How many misfortunes will life throw my way before I get the hint and just kill myself? Not one more...not one more. I've gotten the hint...loud and clear...and I refuse to fight against such a clever adversary for one more day. Because tonight...as this heavy rain pelts my windows with a steady rhythm...tonight will be the night that I end my suffering. At last, freedom will be mine.

I've endured, I've searched for the bright side, I've listened to the lectures and seen the videos, I've heard the anti-suicide messages crystal clear. And yet, I feel that they don't apply to me anymore. They will never understand. I feel that they don't know me or what I have had to suffer through in my lifetime. How can they even pretend to know what kind of potential I have? They haven't lived my life, they can only sympathize. Do they know what it's like to be betrayed by the people they love most? Do they know what it's like to be belittled and verbally tortured to the point where their own existence seems to be worthless and wasteful at best? Do they know what it's like to pray to God to save me from this misery every single night with teary eyes, and never once get an answer? FUCK a church!!! I wouldn't be caught dead paying homage to any being that would let me suffer this way! Do they know what it's like to be beaten...daily...for little or no reason??? To KNOW in my heart that the neighbors hear my cries for help, and do nothing to help me? To know that my friends, my teachers, my family, can all see the bruises, can feel me pulling away from them, and never once will they lift a finger to rescue me from my suffering? Do they know what it's like to be HIT, and CURSED at, and DESPISED, by a parent...and have to sit there and TAKE IT for fear of receiving an even worse punishment? And yet they want to tell me that suicide is wrong? Live my life for a week and tell me THEN your fabled ideals of how wonderful life can be. I have put on blinders to avoid the vision of my own pathetic life. I have put on a fake smile to hide it from my friends, in the hopes that they would still think me 'normal' enough to hang out with them. I have held this fear, this secret, this RAGE...inside of me to the point where it threatens to shred my insides in an attempt to escape. I can't hold this back any longer. I have buried it, and held it in, and suppressed it all my life. It is too big for me to control anymore. Instead...it controls me.

Many people would like to picture a suicidal teen as someone who is always depressed. As a child who just needs a little sunshine in his life. At age 14, what could I possibly know about being depressed, right? These are "the best years of my life" after all. And I have wasted them all. They've been viciously TAKEN from me against my will, and I have lost them to the people I hate most. I can't ever get them back. I can't ever relive them. I can't ever recapture them. And now? Now I look at the happy go lucky kids who HAVE the childhood I so desperately wanted to have...and I envy them. I envy them to the degree of being caught between self hate and deep depression. Every single day. I don't want to be bitter, I don't want to lay blame on others...but at the same time, the past makes me what I am. And my past is so irreparably fucked up, that I would rather have it be forgotten. Not just by me, but by everybody. If only it were that simple. The only 'childhood' that I have to build on is one of hate and fear and hiding from the world, as well as hiding from myself. It's full of insults, of dislocated shoulders, of scars and bruises, of bloody lips, of humiliation and embarrassment, of being yelled at and hurt and kicked when I was down. I's about betrayal and abandonment and rejection. It is no joke to feel helpless for your entire life. Helpless to help your mother, your friends, or even yourself. To know that the only thing standing between you and insanity is your ability to take your pain and swallow it whole. To almost choke on it as it burns your insides and fights to be free. To want to scream all the time, to want to cry all the time...but to know that there is no time for that. You have to smile, you have to be happy and festive, or people will turn their backs on you because they don't want to deal with your miserable problems. So I become a court jester to them in order to make them see me as a good person. I wonder, would they do they same for me? Would it matter? I NEED friends, I NEED love, I NEED attention! No time for tears. I had a 'life' to live. That was the goal, the standard. Well not anymore. Not tonight. This rainy, cold, dark night.

The note had been written. Explaining a little bit of who I was, and why I was doing this. My father couldn't care less. He'd probably dance on my grave once it was finished. But my mother...I loved her more than creation itself. She didn't deserve this life. She didn't deserve my father at all, and she didn't deserve a son like me. One who is so sick and worthless as to make his own father hate him. To make EVERYONE hate him. Start out my friends, and once they find out how much pain I can tolerate, how much I'm willing to let them use me just to keep them happy, they find a way to stretch, bend, and break every rule of friendship there is to spite me. To see how far they can push me before I snap. Then when they're done with me, it's 'adios. I don't need you anymore. So I'll just forget about you now.' How many friends would I have to lose? How many would tell me to fuck off for not being who they wanted me to be? How many nights would I have to cry myself to sleep, only to see those tears return bright and early the next morning? How many days would I have to wonder if I was going to make it through an entire school day without bursting into tears? Hauled into the counselor's office once, I was easily able to tell her that a pet had died to explain my tears. I was quick to think up things to avoid talking about my pain. Did she buy it? Of COURSE she did. Cause kids are sensitive creatures who cry at the drop of a hat, right? We don't have 'real' problems. I didn't even know her, and yet I worked hard to make her feel as though her encouraging words had made me feel better. As though ANYONE'S words ever could. Not after what has been permanently taken from me. Not by MY choice...by HIS! And you know what hurts me the most? If he were to just say he loved me, that he was sorry, and REALLY mean it...I'd forgive him. I'd forgive my father and strive for that fairy tale storybook family that so many people take for granted. They shout at their parents and tell them how annoying they are, steal from them to buy drugs, borrow endless amounts of money, call them names, worry them to death...and they have no idea how lucky they are to even HAVE them. Ask ME what it's like not to have an option in life.

They all want to tell me to 'let go'. To open up to emotion. To just ignore it. To get help. To call the authorities on him. To understand. To forget. To push forward. HOW??? THAT's what I want to know...is HOW? They tell me to stand up for myself, and I realize that I never learned how. I've never lived a life where I had a say in what was being done to me, nor did I have the option to fight back. Do you think I honestly learned how to argue when every disagreement was my fault and every 'discussion' ended with a shove or a backhand that knocked me to the floor? Is THAT the form of 'negotiation' I'm supposed to use when I want to get my point across? I spent most of my life in constant fear, and someone wants to tell me to be patient? To be open with my feelings? To be strong and noble and tolerant? And how do I manage to pull THAT off after what I've been through? They're lucky I can even FAKE a smile after that. I've hidden it, joked about it, stepped around it, and avoided it. Attempting to be strong in the eyes of the people who I expect to one day turn their backs on me anyway. But enough. No more. I will be happy, or I will simply cease to be anything at all. You see...people can claim to 'imagine' what it's like to be abused. But can they? Who knows? To me, that fear, that pain, was just as real as the fear and pain was for any Vietnam veteran during the war. That fear that your life could end at any moment if you slip up. The knowledge that no one can hear you, no one will help you, and the people who can...don't. Terrifying? The word doesn't even BEGIN to describe it.

Like I said, people want to picture us suicidal teenagers as falling prey to a moment of weakness while being depressed. A victim of a hormonal imbalance or overexaggerating a small detail in our lives that probably wasn't worth it. No...not so. Do you honestly think I would kill myself over nothing? Do you think I would have gone out to the True Value store down the street to buy this box of razor blades with my last few dollars, all because of a trivial event that could be healed in a week or two? No. This was a long time in the making. I knew the dangers of suicide. I knew the overall stupidity of it, and that it would never prove anything to anybody. But it didn't matter at this point. You wanna know how I felt when I made this decision? I felt nothing. No sadness, no tears, no anger, no vengeance, nothing. It was something that had to be done. It's not like I felt that I had to prove something. It was simply 'time'. No more fake friends, no more watching mindless TV shows, no more abusive father, no more watching my mother cry herself to sleep, no more falling in love with boys who would never have me, no more boring classes, no more loneliness because my heart belongs to someone who doesn't give a shit whether I'm hurting or not, no more heartbreak, no more frozen pizzas and ramen noodles for dinner, no more fake smiles to cover the burning hatred inside of me, no more wishing I was this kid or that kid just so I could actually mean something to somebody, no more trying to match my clothes or fix my hair when I know that nobody gives a fuck, no more snide remarks from a grandmother who acts as though she doesn't even LIKE me, no more shitty jobs, no more tear filled angry explosions at myself in the mirror every morning, no more staring at the hole that I put in the wall with my bare fist because the fury inside could no longer be contained. NO MORE!!! People don't understand? I don't WANT them to understand anymore! I want them to go on living their happy little lives and try to forget that I ever existed in this screwed up world to begin with! This night will be a celebration. A LIBERATION! A time to remember the few good things about my life...before I end it. That's why I decided to call Jonathan. He's the one person who would take my ramblings seriously. The one person who might care. And if I had anybody to say goodbye to, it was going to be him.

As thunder rolled in the distance, I found the strength to wipe the tears from my eyes and focus long enough to dial the phone. It was 11:00 at night, and it was my last hour on Earth. I wanted it to be a special one. And I hoped Jonathan would understand, because although I've led a fucked up life with a fucked up family and some fucked up friends...that's NOT why I'm doing this. It was something else that became the very last straw. The one push that sent my fragile house of cards tumbling to the ground. And I needed for someone to know about it, to know about me, tonight...before I drag this blade savagely across my wrists and bleed myself into eternity. Jonathan was going to be the unfortunate recipient of that message.

I dialed the number from my memory. Even though we hadn't talked as much as I would have liked. I really liked him a lot. Jonathan was cute, but undeniably straight. Not even gay enough to experiment with the idea. It was okay though, I wasn't in love with him, and I was sure that even if he was gay he would never have had feelings for me. So we didn't talk too often. But despite our long periods between communicating, he was still a friend, and I didn't want to start off by sounding like some sort of blubbering idiot when he picked up the phone. So I straightened myself up, and waited for him to answer. I could only hope this conversation wouldn't haunt him for the rest of his life. I didn't want that. But at the same time, I couldn't die without knowing that somebody, ANYBODY, knew the real me. If only for a moment in time.

The phone rang four times before a groggy Jon picked it up. "....hello?" I didn't answer at first, just happy to know he was there. "Hello?" He asked again.

"......hey..." I said. Hearing his voice was almost enough to bring the tears back in full force. But I continued anyway. "It's me...it's Brian."

"Brian? Dude....what's up? Are you asking for directions to the party too?" He almost sounded happy to hear from me, and that was music to my ears. But it was also a dagger in my heart, because I was saying goodbye to the one person who had stayed with me through it all. I held my face away from the phone to sniffle and cry a bit more. I don't think he heard me, but the pause was long enough to make him wonder. "Brian? Are you ok?"

It had been my plan from the beginning to just have a normal conversation with him. An everyday happy chat that would remind me of how things could have been if I had only been as normal as the majority of the people around me. Then, at the end of the conversation, I would give him the most sincere of goodbyes, and do the deed once I hung up the phone. No anguish, no yelling, no rescues. That is how I had planned it. But it didn't look like it was going to go that way. Jon already knew something was wrong.

"I'm here. How are you?" I was trying to hold back the tears, but they wouldn't be silenced, not tonight. The rain seemed to encourage them.

"How am I??? Don't give me that! What's wrong?"

So much for the plan. It's too late for that now. Could I have even screwed up something as simple as a last conversation? I'm really NOT good for anything. I thought about hanging up without saying another word, but he might come over and try to stop me. I didn't want that. So I decided to at least tell him why...I owed him that much. I wasn't sure how to lead into it, so I skipped the 'once upon a time' garbage and just started with, "...I'm not like the others Jonathan."

"What? What's going on Brian? Look, give me a few minutes to put some shoes on, I'm coming over!" He said.

"DON'T!"

"Brian...something isn't right here, man! I'm on my way! I'll be riding my bike, so I'll be there in fifteen minutes, give or take..." It was too late to beat around the bush, he was going to come over if I didn't say something. It had to be done, and suddenly my little plan had given way to complete improvisation.

"If you hang up this phone, I'll be dead by the time you get here!" I don't know what made me say it, but I meant it. I had planned to kill myself at midnight, but if he was coming over, I'd have to push things forward a little bit. There was silence on the phone, and I was able to hear him sitting back down on his bed.

"B-B-Brian...please....just let me...let me help you, ok?"

"No help is needed Jon. I just need a friendly voice right now. Something to remember before...before...I just need you to talk to me. Ok?" I couldn't stop the tears, no matter what I did. I couldn't wipe them away without them being replaced by more seconds later. It was all I could stand.

"Let me...let me call you right back, ok? I wanna switch phones." He said.

"Nice try...but I don't want you to call the police Jon. I don't want any help. I want a friend. If you hang up...then our time is over, and I will have done everything I needed to do in order to make my miserable life complete. So please...we have one hour. Please allow me to live through it, and stay on the line."

"...Why? Brian...why? I don't understand." Jon was beginning to cry a little himself now. I suppose, him being a 14 year old at the other end of the phone, that this would come as a shock to him. They didn't know about my life, I never allowed them to. They never asked, so I never told them. Easy. If I were to suddenly disappear, the mystery of it would drive them all nuts. That's why I needed him to know.

"I'm not like the others Jon."

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???" He cried out.

"I'm gay." The words might have been impossible to say before, but this being my last night on Earth, I HAD no consequences to fear. Besides, he would have known by Monday anyway, but I'll get to that later.

There was a long pause on the phone. I don't really think he was expecting this at all. "I...I had no idea. Um...wow...ok.."

"Hehehe...somehow I expected more of a response from you than 'wow'...but thanks nonetheless." Laughing through tears can be eerily soothing sometimes.

"Is that why you're doing this? Is that why you're killing yourself? BRIAN...Jesus...do you really think that it matters that much to me?"

"Not to you....but it will to the rest of the school."

"Then don't TELL the rest of the school!!!"

"They'll all know by tomorrow. There's no stopping that now." I said. Then an image passed through my mind, a horrible one. A bright flash, and laughter, and I relived that one moment all over again. The last straw indeed. I pushed the image out of my mind for fear that it might make me end my talk early and get this life over with now.

"You're not making any sense! PLEASE....just let me come over and talk to you face to face!" He was pleading, but I reminded him of what happens if he puts down the phone, and it made him sick to know that he couldn't reach me. If only I knew that someone cared before this night. "There's got to be more to this than you just being gay. There's GOT to be!"

And there was. I spent the next 20 minutes telling him the things that I never thought would leave my mouth. How my father had beaten and tortured me since I was old enough to understand that it was wrong. How he had used words to hit all the spots that he couldn't touch with his fists. How he had crushed my spirits to the point where I'm afraid to speak in a normal tone of voice around anybody. Where I can't trust another human being. Where I can't control my temper so I have to back out of any argument for fear that I'd lash out uncontrollably in someone elses direction. How can I accept a compliment from someone when I hate myself soooo much? I hated everything about me. Everything. Can Jonathan even fathom what it's like to feel unworthy of the very breath in your lungs? To feel ugly and alone and fat and stupid and unloved 24 hours a day no matter what's going on around me. And to occasionally have something happen in my life that might even reinforce those fears? To make them a concrete reality? From friends, family, people I hate, people I love, people I admire, people I work for? I spilled it all to Jonathan as he sat quietly and absorbed every word. He never had a clue. Maybe I'm better at covering up than I thought. And I'm sure he cared...but he didn't love me. So what was the point in telling him how I once spent nights longing for his embrace? Even if only in a sexual way. Hehehe, 7th grade, what a year.

"Where is your dad now?" He asked.

"He took some tramp out to dinner tonight. I'm expecting him to not be home until two or three in the morning. I'll be gone by then."

"Where's your MOM?"

"Working late. She won't be home until after he gets here. He's good about not getting caught with his pants down. Plus he needs time to threaten me and tell me to keep my mouth shut about it or else. At least he's not having sex with her here in the house this time. I can't stand that. The heavy breathing, the noises, the soft moans. You wouldn't believe how loud kissing is until you try to mentally block it out of your mind. It turns my stomach. And I hate him for it. I HATE HIM FOR IT!!! And then to have my mother come home and watch him kiss her with the lips that he had used to...to..." I was screaming now, almost sick with the memory of it. It played in my mind over and over again like some sick broken record. It would never be washed away, never be forgotten. It was ALWAYS there, whether I was aware of it or not. And sometimes...when I'm alone and the house gets too quiet...I can still hear those sounds. And they scare me. All over again. I try to drown them out, with television, with movies, with tons upon tons upon tons of music...praying that it will continue to save me the agony of hearing that...that sickening noise. That stomach churning symphony of my father's adultery. He didn't even respect me enough to hide it from me. To him...I wasn't worth the extra effort.

"Brian...I don't know what to say. I'm so so sorry...if only you had told me.."

"What? What would you have done if I had told you?" I asked.

"I...I would've gotten you some HELP...or...or something?" He didn't even know how to take the news of who I really was. It caused him to cry just to hear what I was telling him, imagine if he had actually lived it.

"There was no help Jonathan. There still isn't. I know that now."

"YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME!!!" He was becoming frantic, and he hadn't heard the worst yet. Then I saw the image again, in the back of my head. More bright flashes, a wet sensation on my cheek, me crying out...I had to take a swig of the Jack Daniel's sitting next to me in order to bear it. Then I pushed it out of my mind again.

"Told you? And become the freak everyone wanted me to be? To have people whisper behind my back? To ask me to parties and gatherings out of pity? To have them talk to me so that they can feel like they're doing me some great justice by being a friend when all they care about is how they look in front of other people? 'Oh, what a compassionate person he is.' they'll say. And it'll all be fine after that, won't it?"

"Brian...I know what you said before, I know this was hard on you and that nothing will ever make it all better, but please don't do this. Let me come over and talk to you. Ok? Please? Or at least let me give you the phone number of someone who can help you through this."

"This will be the last phone call I make tonight or any other night Jon. In a half hour, none of that will matter."

"DAMMIT BRIAN!!!! What the fuck are you DOING to me?!?!? LET ME FUCKING HELP YOU!!!" He screamed. But I didn't have the heart to raise my voice back to him.

"This is the last chat I'll ever have Jon. Let's make it a pleasant one, shall we?" He was speechless, helpless, out of reach, and out of ideas. I was holding all the cards, and that was that. It was the first time in my life that I've ever had control. After a long pause, I figured he was listening again. "I'm still a virgin, but I was ready to gradually move into a world of sex and love. I wanted it to be as beautiful as I read it could be. And I even knew who it was going to be with."

"Someone from school?" Jon asked, interested, but not hiding his worry very well.

"Do you remember Clint from the LaCrosse team?"

"Yeah...he was...he was in my science class this year."

I sighed to myself in remembrance of the first time I had seen him. "He was soooo beautiful. Blond, and strong, and slim, and oh so cute. His face was divine, with the softest features and the most awesome pair of sparkling green eyes that I had ever seen. He always had this incredible scent...like he had just stepped out of a hot shower. But it stayed with him all day long. And his voice danced in my memory as I remembered every word he ever spoke to me. At first it was infatuation with his body, his hair, his ass, his apparently sweet disposition. But after three months of looking at him every school day, thinking about him every night, and finally having him TALK to me in a friendly way from time to time...I knew I was in love. I couldn't even breathe around him. I had never felt anything so strong."

"Is Clint...is he gay?" Jon asked. And it brought back that same dismal memory. Laughter...almost like cackling, and more bright flashes as I cried and begged and felt my heart collapse onto itself. Another strong gulp of alcohol silenced the vision while burning the back of my throat and every inch that it touched on the way down to my stomach. I coughed and gagged at the bitter taste, then sat back to enjoy the swift head rush it gave me.

"...I realized that I would never be able to have Clint as a lover, and that it would be murder to have him as a friend. But I just couldn't stay away from him. No matter how much my mind told me not to talk to him, my heart was drawn to him constantly. I loved him so much that it brought tears to my eyes to think of him with someone else. It was selfish, I'm sure it was. But I couldn't help it. Everything he did was magic to me. He became the reason that I got up in the morning. He was the light that brought my darkened past into a whole new level of experience. My life, my heart, my soul...he could have it all if he could only promise me a single kiss. He meant everything to me."

"I need to come over Brian. Please? Just for a second. There's something I need to tell you and I want to be there when I do."

"I'm not falling for it, Jon. No deal."

"SHIT Brian!!! This ISN'T a joke!"

I looked over at the clock and read that it was 11:45 now. I didn't have much longer to live. Once the clock struck midnight, I would be hanging up. Poor Jonathan, he'd never make it in time. "Fifteen minutes left. I really appreciate this Jon. You're helping me enough just by being here to listen. Not many others would do this."

"Brian....oh God..." He was crying out loud now, pounding his fist against the wall. But in these last moments, it made me feel good to know that he had cared for me. Maybe in the next life, we'll have something special, him and I.

I wasn't sure how to keep him from freaking out, so I continued the story. "It was...a Wednesday afternoon, when Clint and I had our first really long conversation. I know I should have been remembering every word, but I spent most of it looking into his eyes. Trying to keep my hard on from showing. He was talking to me...and he was so sweet! So loving! And Thursday we ate lunch together. He even ditched his teammates to have lunch with ME! I was so in love...so very very deep in love. There is no other feeling like it in the world. You can't understand. It's like this wonderful weight that just pulls your soul in the direction of the person it belongs to. I was suddenly incomplete without him...kind of like I am right now..." As I said it, thinking of Clint's smiling face, I cried. It was hard to go on. But I was almost out of time. "Then came today. This afternoon........we uh...we talked. Ate lunch together...and he...he told me that he was going to ditch practice to have some fun for a change. He...invited me to come join him. What else was I supposed to do? I was in LOVE with him. TOTALLY! I would have done anything for him. So I followed him home, walking and talking, laughing...it was the happiest I've ever been for as long as I can remember. And he invited me into his house while he changed into some other clothes. The thought of sitting on his bed, in his room, while he was somewhere else in that same house half naked...thrilled me. To hell with being pure of mind and platonic love! I'm a 14 year old boy!!! The idea of sex excited me, tempted me, it filled my thoughts and my dreams every single minute! And there I was in the house of the boy I loved more than anything in the world, and I'm not supposed to want him? To need him?"

"What happened?" I paused for a second, visualizing a completely 'different' smile on Clint's face than the one I had seen before. More flashes, more laughter...

"......Clint came out of the bathroom with just a pair of boxers on and some socks. I hadn't prepared myself to see him like that, and it made me nervous as all hell. He walked passed me to grab some clothes out of his closet, and I couldn't help but watch him. His legs were so smooth, covered with the lightest dusting of fine blond hairs, and strong tight calves. His stomach was so erotically slim that it almost looked sunken in a bit, with the beginnings of a teenage six pack. His chest, his neck...every inch of him looked delicious. I sat down on the bed to hide the bulge tenting out the front of my pants. I was so nervous that I was shaking Jon. Literally shaking. I tried not to stare, but I couldn't pass up the chance to see my imaginary lover in his underwear. He was the star of many of my jack off sessions, and now was bound to be the star of many MANY more! I gazed at him...watching his smooth round globes gently push out the back of his boxers and the slight jiggle of his penis in the front. The button wasn't fastened, and I saw little glimpses of flesh underneath, covered with a few dark blond hairs. He was gorgeous beyond a shadow of a doubt! And when he turned to see me staring...and SMILED...I nearly fainted."

The clock was at 11:53 now...I figured I should finish this story, and leave my legacy with Jon while still having enough time to say goodbye. "...then....after he smiled, he reached out a hand to help me to my feet. I told him I didn't want to get up, after all I had an erection to hide. But he just pulled me up anyway. He didn't say a word. He pulled me close to him and looked me right in the eye. I saw love in his eyes, and it made me weak. Soooo weak. I began by moving forward to lay my head on his shoulder, hugging him. Timidly at first, and then with more force when he didn't object. He actually hugged me back! And I slowly reached down to fondle the soft cheeks that I have wanted to touch since the beginning of the school year. They felt so cool in my hands, spongy and tight, so beautiful. I pulled him a bit closer and felt my erection press up against his leg. Sigh...it was sooo cool, and I put my hands inside of his boxers to massage the cheeks' bare skin. That's when he released the hug and backed up a bit. He looked me in the eyes again, then leaned in to kiss me on the lips. I realized, at that moment, that I have lived my whole life just for that one kiss. It was the single most passionate moment that I have ever experienced in 14 years. That one brief lip lock erased a lifetime of pain. Suddenly, the beatings, the cursing, the sexual escapades, the shouting, the self hate, the anger...all of it was gone. Here was the most beautiful person that I have ever seen in my life, and he wanted ME! I felt sexy and alive and my heart almost burst with the supreme shock of actually having my love returned by someone who was everything that I wanted them to be."

"So WHY are you doing this? Brian...this could be it. This could be what you're looking for?"

I took another heavy dose of Jack Daniel's, and attempted to go on. But this was going to hurt...I could feel it already.

"...He whispered 'I love you' in my ear, and he smiled at me again. And I wept openly right in front of him. I wanted to give him everything. I'd love him forever and never once question him, treat him badly, or give him any grief. I'd give my life over to him, I'd fulfill his every emotional, sexual, and spiritual need from now until the end of time. I was SO in love, my GOD, if only I could put it into words. Then...he sat me down on his bed, and raised my shirt up over my head. He leaned me back, but he didn't climb on top of me yet. He said he just wanted to look at me for a moment. Then he leaned over and kissed me again. Slowly, but with no tongue or anything. I was breathless. It felt so good." I began to shake as the visions came back to me...and with another swift gulp of liquor, I allowed those visions to return to me. For the first time since it had happened only hours ago at 4 PM. "...he told me to close my eyes, and he ran his fingers up and down my chest. I did as he said, and it felt so good. Then he undid my pants, and slowly began to slide them down my thighs, I gave him a little help by lifting my hips off of the bed, and then I was just lying there in boxers too. Just like he was. The anticipation of his touch was enough to cause me to tremble with excitement and fear. I was soooo hard! So hard that it hurt! I was straining to get that release, to have him touch it and hold it and caress it...oh wow...it was the one time in my life that I felt special. I couldn't believe this was happening, and I was ready for it. I wanted my first sexual experience to happen, and I wanted it today, with the boy I loved more than I loved myself. He was my salvation in a world gone completely mad in my eyes. Then...he said...he...uh..."

"Brian? What happened?" But I couldn't speak...I tried, but I couldn't. The tears caused a lump so large to appear in my throat that I could barely breathe. "Brian, talk to me? What did he do?"

"...he told me..." I began to cry, but had to go on anyway. It was only three minutes until midnight, and the rain had been going non stop for a long time now. I was ready...ready to let go. "...he told me...'sniff'...to keep my eyes closed. And he asked me if I loved him. And I said...yes...'sniff'...with all my heart. And he said....'sob'...he said...'That's just what we thought...FAGGOT!'" That word had been ringing in my ears for the entire day, and it sounded even worse coming from my mouth. "The first thing I noticed....besides the word 'faggot'...was the use of the term 'we'. And when I opened my eyes again...they were all standing over me!" I cried, my face wrinkled up with anguish, reliving the surprise...that painful...unforgivable surprise.

"They??? They who?"

"Half the Lacrosse team it seemed! I think maybe five of them, but I wasn't sure! I was so confused, so scared...I didn't know what to do!" I was crying loudly now, trying to make my words clear enough to understand. "..I tried to get up, but they held me down on the bed. They laughed at me...all of them...they called me 'bonerboy' and 'faggot' and 'fudgepacker'... they threw my clothes out the window...'sob'...they...they began to smack me on the face while the others held me down. I...looked up at Clint...and he....he was laughing too! I saw one of his teammates hand him a bottle of Jack Daniel's and he took it happily. He said...'sniff'...'thanks, I can't believe you guys actually paid me to KISS this queer! I should charge you double! He actually had his hands on my ASS!!! Jesus!'...then he took a few swigs from the bottle to...to get the awful taste of my kiss out of his mouth...a kiss that tasted so sweet to me. Then he took another mouthful of it...and he...'sniff' 'sob'...he spit it in my face. It stung my eyes and I screamed...but he told me that no one could hear me. And that's when he got a camera out of the closet. And he...he took pictures of me. One bright flash after another...of me on his bed...still hard...still wanting him with every inch of my body. I WAS SO STUPID JON!!! I can't believe I let him DO that to me!!!" It was 11:59 now by my clock, and it was only a minute fast. I never took the time to fix that damn thing. It was about time to say goodbye. "They pulled my boxers off of me, and took more pictures. I fought...I FOUGHT THEM WITH EVERYTHING I HAD, JON!!! But I can't fight them all. I can't fight my father. I can't fight my unfaithful friends. I can't fight the law. I can't fight society. I can't fight the world. They just overpower me until I'm too helpless to go on. THAT'S why I'm doing this Jonathan. Because they've won. They've taken my past, ruined my present, and erased my future. And the one person who I loved enough to escape this hell...laughed at my affections and said he couldn't wait to put those pictures up all over the school on Monday! So that everyone would know that I was a fag! And then, when I tried to get away, they threw me down the stairs...naked...and then they....they...'sob'...they beat me...and kicked me...and I tried to defend myself, but there were too many. Every time I got a hit in, they got ten! They...stepped on my chest...and...'sniff'...Clint was kicking me in the...in the stomach...'sob'...and then they screamed at me because I spit up blood on the couch. So they...they picked me up...and they threw me out into the front yard with my clothes following right after. They hurt me sooo bad! Why? What did I do besides fall in love? I guess that wasn't meant for me, and if it wasn't meant for me...then I don't want to go on believing that I'll ever find it in my life. The last thing my 'lover' said to me was...'here, take this bottle of Jack and drink it up! Cause after this weekend, your life is over cocksucker!'...'sob'...and I took it...and now it's almost gone...and...and now...'sob'....oh God..."

I looked at the clock and it read 12:00 midnight. It's time. "Brian!!!! BRIAN...listen to me okay? Don't do this!"

"...'Sniff'...goodbye Jon...you've been a really good friend as far as the others go...and I'll miss you. Thank you for this last hour...it meant a lot to me."

"BRIAN!!! LET ME HELP YOU!!! PLEASE???" He screamed.

"I can't...don't you understand??? The man who raised me has beaten and abused me. The friends I trusted have either betrayed me or abandoned me. The boy that I love with all my heart is disgusted by me! He beat the hell out of me while they all laughed!!!! LAUGHED!!! THIS is what I have to look forward to??? To go back to school on Monday morning and finish losing the rest of my sanity when everyone else sees me as the sick pervert that Clint does? I won't go through that. I CAN'T go through that!" I took the razor blades out of the box, and walked towards the bathroom, stretching the phone cord as far as it would go. Trying to hold on for those last few seconds. I was scared of death, terribly so. But at this point, I welcomed it. I'll have a peaceful night's sleep...at last.

"BRIAN!!! OH GOD!!! I'M COMING OVER!!! DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID!!! YOU HAVE A CHOICE!!! YOU HAVE A LIFE!!! AND YOU HAVE SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU!!!"

"No one loves me Jonathan...'sob'...no one...not even me..." I stared at myself in the mirror, my blackening eye and scarred face reminding me of the life I've lived when I was a small child. My ribs hurt, my stomach, my legs where I had been kicked and stepped on. I had almost forgotten how bad a beating they had given me until I looked in the mirror again. But all my pain would cease in a few seconds. Brian was still screaming in my ear, but it had become a garbled mess now. I was concentrating on other things. Finally, my clock, had clicked over to 12:01...and the time had come to end this once and for all.

"SOMEONE DOES LOVE YOU BRIAN!!!! *I* LOV...." Just then, at the stroke of midnight exactly, there was a startling clap of thunder that rattled the windows of the house! The phone cut out immediately and went dead. I wasn't sure what Jon was saying in those last few seconds, but it made me wonder. No doubt he was losing his mind at this point, probably exploding in a fit of tears. He'd probably jump on his bike and try to race it over here, but he won't make it in time. I'll be dead by the time he arrives.

But Jonathan tried to make it anyway. He heard the phone go dead, and expected the worst. He grabbed his keys and no jacket, dashing out into the pouring rain and riding his bike as quickly as possible. He knew the way. He had ridden his bike there many times on the weekends, always passing the house, but too scared or shy to step inside, or to even ring the bell. He never knew what made Brian such a quiet kid, or why he withdrew from his friends. Why he would sometimes disappear in the middle of a school day. Why he talked and mumbled under his breath, or why he never truly said what was on his mind. He never knew why he always turned down the invitations to hang out with the others, or why he never talked about his life in general. He always put on a smile for Jonathan, but never told him who he really was. How was Jon supposed to know what was wrong? Or that ANYTHING was wrong? Brian kept it to himself, up until this very moment, when he had to let go. All those chances Jonathan had to say something, all those opportunities to spend some time with him. They might all be over with now.

Jon could barely see with the rain weighing down his light brown hair and drenching his t-shirt. But he peddled on anyway. The streets were pretty empty except for one kid, a young red haired boy who looked to be in almost the same predicament. He was peddling away too, completely soaked from head to toe, and he didn't look any older than ten. He was on the other side of the street, and Jon saw him racing fast, almost passing him up. They both cut around the same corner, and he saw the kid knock some poor boy into a puddle of mud. The youngster never stopped riding though, and neither did Jonathan. No time for that. Damn the kid was fast. That's when they came to an intersection and Jon saw the light change against him. NO NO NO!!!! It was a busy street, and this stoplight takes FOREVER!!! Especially on Friday nights when people are going to or coming from parties! He saw long lines of cars going both ways! Jonathan figured he'd NEVER make it in time, and tears flooded his cheeks at the thought of the boy he cared so much for...dying alone. Jon thought about chancing it, about dodgin out into traffic and praying that he could make it across safely. But the kid across the street did it for him. He didn't stop when the light changed! Jonathan called out to him, but the kid kept going, and as he rode out into traffic, they honked their horns loudly. They startled the kid and he fell down in the middle of the street, stopping the traffic both ways! A few people got out to make sure he was alright, but I used the distraction to keep going. He may not have known it, but he might have just saved Brian's life by risking his own! As Jonathan rode through the busy intersection...the kid looked back at him, and he could have sworn that he saw the kid smile.

Jonathan peddled harder than he ever had before that night, riding that bike until his legs ached. He struggled to keep going, the fear in his heart pushing him to keep going. His breath had almost given out by the time he reached the house. It was 12:14 Am...why couldn't he ride faster? Why couldn't he have pushed himself a little bit harder??? WHY??? Was that not enough for the boy that he...loved?

Jonathan felt defeated, and dropped the bicycle on the ground as he ran around the side of the house to kick down the back door. The puddles splashed up around him, and the muddy yard seemed to slow him down as he fought for balance. But when he got to the back steps...he found Brian sitting on the porch, crying his eyes out, but miraculously still alive.

"BRIAN????" He called out. I looked up and saw Jonathan, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, soaking wet. I stood up slowly, and he ran over to hug me! "BRIAN!!! OMIGOD!!! I THOUGHT I'D LOST YOU!!!"

I didn't hug him back right away. I was afraid to. For fear of living through this hell all over again. There was only one question on my mind, and I had to ask. It was that question, that had kept me alive. "....Did you mean it?" I asked. I had to raise my voice a bit as the hard driving rain drowned out most of the sounds around us.

"Mean what?"

"What you said on the phone...did you mean it?" I had thought about it, over and over again. What did he say, what were Jon's last words to me before the phone died on us. I held the razor to my wrists, trying to muster up enough courage to do it, to finally end it. But for the first time, I noticed something that wasn't there before. It was fear, and doubt, and sadness...emotion. I actually cared all of the sudden. I cared about Jonathan, about my mother, about myself. They cared for ME. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, bruised and battered, and wondered what the hell I was doing! I'd suffered through more than any of those assholes who beat me up...and I survived it. They hadn't beaten me yet. They didn't have what it takes to beat me! And I'm going to forfeit the game NOW??? No way! I'm still standing! And when I thought about Jonathan's words when the phone went dead, it became clear. At least his words were, not his intentions.

Jonathan looked up at me with his beautiful blue eyes as his wet locks stuck to the sides of his face, and he said..."Yes...with all my heart." Then he walked up to the porch, a little scared at first, but given some courage by the idea that he might never see me again, and he hugged me. And with a long stare into my eyes, he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Not a fake kiss, not one that he was paid for, but a slow, passionate, meaningful kiss that made me dizzy. Then he backed away to look for a reaction.

"Please don't lie to me Jon...please? I...I can't...I can't stand another heartbreak...you know?" I said. I had to be sure.

"If you let me love you...you won't have to."

Then he hugged me again, and I let him come inside to dry off. We spent the rest of the night talking. He held me in his loving arms and I bawled my eyes out as he listened to every word. Cuddling me, consoling me, through every bitter memory. I could hear his heart beating inside his chest, and as he gently smoothed and petted my hair, I realized that this was the first time I had ever felt 'safe'. The first time I had ever been loved. And I kissed him sweetly on the lips to show my gratitude, my thanks for making the pain a little easier to bare.

My mother came home first for a change, which meant my father was going to be out all night again. Just as well. She made us some hot chocolate and gave Jon some extra blankets to keep him warm through the night. But he didn't need them. He spent the night in my arms, as we held each other and kissed endlessly until dawn. I never thought I'd see the sun again, but I had. Things were going to be different after that night. Difficult....yes...but different. This won't solve my problems, but it will give me the strength to endure them. And it will give me a goal to shoot for, a level of success to achieve. For once in my life, I felt worth it...and I would never lose sight of that again.

I want you all to know that this story was not only written for me, but for all of you who have had to live through abuse, depression, molestation, or any other unfortunate circumstance in your life. This story is my way of 'letting go'. Getting rid of something that I just don't want anymore. I hope it was worth the tears it took to write it. Once again, this story is fictional, but the material involved comes from the heart. And it is because of this site, my online friends, and all of you supportive readers, that it is even possible for me to display this story here. Thank you.

To those of you reading this, and find yourself in the same position...this is NOT the way! This story is not about death, it's about life. It's about possibilities, options, and victory despite the odds. As I said in the beginning, there's always another way. For more help and information, I have a friend who runs a site called "Project Prevention". Please give it a read and get help. If you read this story, and you're online, then you're already ahead of me from when I personally had to live through it. You have the option to learn, to live, and to leave the message for others to find. Don't waste it.

With Love, Comicality