Saving Ezra - 8. Chapter 8

content/trigger warning: violence, assault, rape mention, gay bashing, panic attack, all the bad things. Cuddling a small baby animal and looking at lolcats is recommended after reading.

 

School the following day was about average for Ezra, and he was grateful for it. There were some hissed slurs shot in his direction in the halls and he was roughly shoved to bang against lockers a few times. It made his aching stomach flare with pain, but Ezra knew it was no more than he deserved. He kept his hood up and his head down, glad when none of the teachers called

on him.

His head was buzzing with too many thoughts to pay attention to his classes anyway. Ezra knew that the things that happened with Deacon Luke felt wrong, he knew they were. He felt responsible for it, even though it was the deacon who started everything. It was some kind of evil living inside Ezra that made Deacon Luke do those things. It wasn't Luke’s fault, Ezra knew that. He just didn't know how to make it stop, dammit.

 

How long would Ezra be tainted like this, pulling men into terrible sin? His father had been trying to help him for years, with everything Paul could think of. Nothing seemed to help. Nothing could snuff out the evil inside Ezra.

It felt hopeless, pointless. He was nothing but a shit-stain.

 

Ezra hung his head, letting his hood hide him, as he walked outside after the final bell rang. The teen went to the side of the building where Joshua usually parked, but no one was there. Ezra looked around. He'd been slower than he'd realized. Almost everyone had left. No one really lingered after school if they didn't have to. Ezra sighed and leaned against the brick wall behind him, wondering if Joshua was coming or if he should just walk home.

 

He'd just decided to give up on Joshua and walk home when a strong hand grabbed his arm. Ezra sucked in a startled breath as he was roughly yanked around the corner of the building and to the ground, out of view from the street. The teen shoved his hood back to see two familiar figures looming over him, Brody and one of his lackeys. Ezra thought his name might be Tom… or Patrick, but who the hell cared. They were all just assholes and Brody was their king.

 

“Aww, look who we found all mopey and sad,” Brody sneered. “It's the little princess.”

 

The other boy laughed and moved to box Ezra in with the wall behind the smaller teen. Ezra clenched his teeth against the pain in his stomach and pushed himself to his feet, determined to get past the taller students. He really didn't have any patience for the jerks and their bullshit, right then. Ezra was going to have to walk home, and with his luck Deacon Luke would be there waiting for him.

 

Brody and his friend had other ideas though, laughing again as they easily grabbed Ezra’s arms and forced him back against the rough brick wall.

 

“Where you going, baby?” Brody taunted. “Me and Tom wanted to talk with you, maybe have some fun.”

 

Ha, he'd been right. The asshole lackey’s name was Tom. Not that the fact made Ezra feel much better.

 

“Let me go,” Ezra growled. “I need to go home.”

 

“That's not nice, baby,” Brody scolded. “You weren't walking home. You were just standing there waiting for us.”

 

Ezra huffed in frustration and tried to pull out of their grasp. They held him tighter and gave him a hard slam against the brick for good measure.

 

“You aren't going anywhere, faggot,” Tom bit out.

 

Ezra looked at Tom, a little startled at the rage that seemed to burn in the other boy's words. Tom's blue eyes were hard and dark, glaring at Ezra like he'd just spit on Tom's sainted grandmother, or something. Ezra was used to being pushed around at school, but usually there was just a strange malicious amusement behind it. There was real hate in Tom's eyes and Ezra had no idea why. He barely knew the other kid's name for fucks sake.

 

“You can prance on home after we're done talking to you, princess,” Brody said. “That is, if you can walk afterwards.” The bigger boy grinned cruelly. “See, me and Tom made a bet. He thinks you're just a fucking fag, but I said you've got a pussy hidden under that hoodie, maybe some tits, too.”

 

Ezra jerked as Brody groped his chest through the smaller teen's clothes, causing the back of his head to whack against the hard wall painfully.

 

“Well, damn. No tits,” Brody sighed. “That's disappointing. I'm still hoping for a pussy though.” Brody’s free hand slid down to pop the button of Ezra's worn jeans. “Show us your pussy, baby,” the larger teen purred.

 

“Stop it! “ Ezra snapped, struggling to get free. “Let go!” He shouted, kicking out but not making contact.

 

The other boys just laughed at him as Brody yanked down Ezra's zipper and tried to shove the boy's jeans down.

 

“Let's get him on the ground,” Tom suggested. “Then I can hold him down and you can get his pants off.”

Brody grinned and nodded even as Ezra struggled harder, true fear creeping up his spine. No one was around. There was no one to stop them from whatever they were going to do. What were they going to do to him?

 

He fought, panicked, as they tugged Ezra from the wall and threw him to the ground. The smaller teen didn't have time to get up before Tom was on him, flipping Ezra onto his back and pinning his arms to the dirt.

 

“This isn't funny!” Ezra yelled as Brody dodged his wildly kicking legs to grab the terrified boy's waistband.

 

Ezra felt cool air prick his bare skin as his jeans and underwear were yanked to his knees. The thin teen couldn't do more than wriggle ineffectually with his pants trapping him.

“Oh, I think it's fucking hilarious, princess,” Brody countered. “But damn, you do have a dick. A little one, but still, looks like you made me lose the bet, fag.” Brody smirked at Tom. “Maybe he's hiding a pussy in the back. Let's roll him over.”

 

Tears streaked down Ezra's cheeks as he was manhandled onto his stomach, sharp blades of scrubby grass scratching his face.

 

“I guess you really are just a homo,” Brody commented as he gave Ezra's ass a sharp smack, making the smaller boy jerk and yelp. “How many dicks have been up your ass? I bet a lot. Bet you're a total slut.”

 

Brody and Tom laughed as Ezra lay helpless, crying into the dirt.

 

“Hey, let's help the faggot out a little,” Tom said, nodding towards a tree branch several feet away that had been blown down when the last storm had rolled through town. “It's probably been, like, minutes since he's had a cock in him. His asshole is probably all sad and lonely.”

 

“You're a fucking genius,” Brody praised as he moved to snatch the branch off the ground.

 

Ezra turned his head to see the football player snap a long thick section off the end.

“No!” Ezra's eyes widened in fear, ice rushing through him as he saw the thick stick in Brody's hands. “D-don't!”

 

The ends were jagged and splintered, the whole thing thicker than his wrist and longer than his forearm. If they put that in him it would tear him apart, cut him up. Two words, ‘perforated bowel’, popped into his head from some medical show he'd seen. If they shoved that inside him, Ezra could die. Either from blood loss or sepsis, it would kill him.

 

Ezra's struggles slowed, then stopped, as Brody knelt behind him, pinning Ezra's legs to the ground.

 

This was it. Everything was going to be over for him. And maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Ezra knew it was going to hurt, a lot, but then he'd be free.The teen had known plenty of pain and fear. He could take that if it meant never having to feel any of it again.

 

Ezra went limp, deep shuddering breaths wracking his body, as he felt the sharp wood dig into his skin.

 

“He's not even fighting anymore!” Brody laughed, raking the end of the stick against Ezra's pale asscheek, drawing little lines of blood on the teen's bare flesh. “I think the little homo really does want it. Well, at least he won't give the tree AIDS.”

 

“Just do it,” Tom growled, eyes burning with the thrill of really hurting someone, maybe teaching the faggot a lesson.

 

He'd heard enough about it in his life. God hated fags. Tom's dad was always talking about how they were a stain on society, molesting and raping little boys. The world would be a better place without them.

 

“I'm doing it, I'm doing it,” Brody assured, positioning the tip of the thick stick, working it painfully between Ezra's cheeks. “You ready for a good fuck, baby?” Brody crooned. “You're going to love this.”

 

Ezra closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable pain… which never came. Instead, he heard Brody grunt as his weight suddenly lifted off Ezra and fell to one side. The teen opened his eyes, hearing a familiar voice.

 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Joshua bellowed.

 

The college student had Brody on the ground after tackling him off Ezra's legs.

 

“Dude, chill out,” Tom snapped. “He's just a faggot. It's not your business.”

 

Joshua stood, giving Brody a harsh glare as the football player skittered away from him. The older boy turned his attention to Tom, his eyes narrowing.

 

“Fucking let him up, you little shit,” Joshua snarled.

 

“Mind your own damned business,” Tom growled back. He nodded to Brody. “Get the stick.”

 

“I said, get off him!” Joshua shouted.

 

When Tom didn't immediately comply, Joshua stepped forward and kicked him as hard as he could. The toe of his boot nailed Tom’s face with a sickening crunch. Joshua whirled around and pointed at Brody whose fingers were wrapping around the piece of tree branch.

 

“Don't you fucking dare,” Joshua warned.

 

“Shit,” Tom moaned, clutching his face, blood dribbling between his fingers. “You broke my nose!”

 

“I'll break a lot more than that if you bastards don't get lost.” Joshua knocked the stick away from where Brody had dropped it. “I'm calling the fucking cops,” Josh announced, yanking his phone from his pocket.

 

“Let's get out of here,” Brody said urgently as he pulled Tom to his feet.

 

“He broke my nose!” Tom repeated in shock as his friend tried to pull him away.

 

“Dude, I know,” Brody hissed. “Let's go!”

 

“Fuck!” was Tom's only response as he staggered away as quickly as he could with Brody's help.

 

Joshua stood protectively over Ezra until they had disappeared around the side of the building and were obviously not coming back.

 

“Jesus Christ,” the older boy cursed as he shoved his phone back in his pocket.

 

He looked down at Ezra, who had rolled to his side and curled in on himself. The teen's backside was still exposed, lined with jagged scratches.

 

“Fuck,” Joshua hissed, falling to his knees next to the trembling boy. “Are you okay? That's a stupid question, of course you're not. Shit.” Joshua’s hands hovered over Ezra, unsure where it was safe to touch him. “I should call an ambulance.” He pulled out his phone again.

 

“No!” Ezra grabbed the older boy's hand. “I'm fine. Just-just help me up.”

 

Joshua bit his lip, making his snakebites stand out. He gingerly tucked his hands under Ezra's arms and carefully guided him to stand. Tears stung Joshua's eyes as the kid's violently shaking hands struggled to pull up his jeans. Josh couldn't stand it, and reached out to help, wincing when Ezra whimpered as the fabric dragged over his ass. Joshua buttoned and zipped the fly. Ezra's hands leaned on Josh's shoulders as he weaved on his feet.

 

“I think you need a hospital, man.” Joshua looked at Ezra with pleading eyes. “And we have to call the cops.”

 

“No,” Ezra couldn't meet his gaze. “I'm f-fine. I just want to leave.”

 

“You're not fine,” Joshua begged. “You just got seriously fucking bashed. Those guys need to get nabbed, like, now.”

 

“Please,” Ezra squeezed the college student's shoulders. “They're just assholes.”

 

“That's putting it pretty goddamn mildly, Ez.” Joshua shook his head and stood carefully, keeping Ezra's hands on his shoulders. “At least let me take you to a doctor.”

 

“I just,” Ezra sucked in a shaking breath, trying to slow his racing heart. “I just want to leave.” He pulled away from Joshua's gentle hands, ashamed at how much comfort he was taking in the touch. “I'm fine. I'll go home.”

 

Joshua sighed in defeat. “Let me give you a ride at least,” he said seriously. “Is there someone at your house that can take care of you?”

 

Ezra wrapped his arms around himself and visibly shuddered, thinking of Deacon Luke. He might be there again. Ezra didn't think he could stand a repeat of the day before. He'd end up jumping off the railroad bridge, a prospect that was looking more and more appealing.

 

Ezra shook off the thought and simply stood, at a total loss as to what he should do. He couldn’t call the police or go to the hospital. He really wasn't hurt that badly and the cops would side with Brody and Tom once they heard the whole story. Joshua might even get arrested for kicking Tom! And it would all be Ezra's fault.

 

“Ezra!”

 

Ezra's eyes snapped up. Joshua had been calling his name for some time.

 

“S-sorry, what?” Ezra asked meekly.

 

“I said I was giving you a ride, whether you like it or not,” Joshua told him. The college student waved his hand. “C’mon. I’ll take you home.”

 

“N-no!” Ezra’s arms tightened around himself until his knuckles burned white. “Please. I don’t want to go home.”

 

“Why?” Joshua stepped closer, putting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, fighting the need to hug the poor kid.

 

“I just don’t want to, okay?” Ezra said as he pulled away from Josh’s touch. It was too warm, too kind. Ezra didn’t deserve it.

 

“Then come to my house.” Joshua said pleadingly. “You can hang out as long as you want and I’ll take you home when you feel like it, yeah?” His hands clenched. “I’m really fucking worried about you, man.”

 

Ezra couldn’t see a way out of it. If he just walked away, he had a feeling Joshua would follow. The guy seemed to have a knight in shining armor complex. The younger teen hunched his shoulders and let Josh lead him to the car. It was parked with a wheel up on the curb, the driver’s door wide open, and the engine still running. Joshua had stayed in front of the school for a few minutes, waiting for Ezra. He’d gotten impatient and decided to pull around into the little lane for the school buses to look for him. He’d found him, with two sons of bitches pinning him down and hurting him. Joshua was out of his car and tackling Brody before he knew what was happening.

 

Josh put an arm around Ezra and gently led him to the beat-up car, opening the door for him and tucking him into the bucket seat. Ezra huddled in his hoodie while Joshua silently reached over him to buckle the seatbelt. The teen didn't look up when his door and then the drivers door thudded shut.

 

Joshua clenched the steering wheel, trying to calm down. It all ran through his head again. Why wouldn't Ezra let him call the police or take him to a doctor? He was obviously hurting.

 

“Should I call your dad?” Joshua sighed, finally backing up and pulling out of the turn around.

 

“No,” Ezra answered, his voice low and tired.

 

“I can't just sit on this.” Joshua pointed the car onto the route to his home. “I can call the police or Ms. Garcia.” He glanced at his passenger. “Unless you'd rather have your dad handle it.”

 

Ezra shivered, imagining just how his dad might handle it.

 

“Please don't tell my dad,” Ezra said softly.

 

“The police, then?” Joshua pushed. “What they did to you is a crime.”

 

“They wouldn't help me.” Ezra closed his eyes, shaking his head.

 

Joshua didn't agree, but held himself back from arguing. He didn't want to upset the poor kid more.

 

“Then it'll be Ms. Garcia,” Joshua said with finality. “She's a good person,” he added when Ezra stayed silent. “She'll be on your side.”

 

The teen shook his head but said nothing. They rode in silence for several blocks.

 

“Who were they?” Joshua finally asked, his eyes flicking to the younger boy then back to the road.

 

“Just some guys from school,” Ezra answered carefully.

 

“I have descriptions, and one is going to be pretty obvious with a busted nose,” Joshua told him quietly. “You might as well tell me their names.”

 

What did it matter, really? Ms. Garcia wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

 

“You kicked Tom Nurhan,” Ezra admitted. “The other guy was Brody Carmichael.”

 

Josh repeated the names to himself, committing them to memory.

 

“I'm sorry that happened to you,” Joshua said. “Ms. Garcia told me you were getting bullied pretty bad… God, I had no idea it was this bad.” Josh stared at the road. “I was stuck talking to my advisor. It took longer than I thought it would, so I was running late. I hurried.” The college student tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his fingers ached and his knuckles turned white. “But I was late… I’m so sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.” Ezra said softly. “It’s not your fault.” It’s mine, he finished silently.

 

Joshua was quiet for a moment before he hesitantly spoke. “Does… that, well, that kind of thing happen very often?” They were at a stoplight, so he took the time to look over at the younger boy.

 

Ezra stiffened, sucking in a harsh breath. Images rushed through his mind. There was Brody and his jerk squad shoving him into lockers, punching and kicking him, saying cruel things to him. And, there was Deacon Luke, his lips brushing against Ezra’s ear, calling him a sinner and the devil’s child, as the man held him down and forced himself painfully inside him. Luke’s hands around his throat or slapping him hard. The pain in his knees from kneeling too long on the hard tile floor of the little room in the back of the church, the door carefully locked as the deacon finally came down Ezra’s throat.

 

Then there was his dad. The whippings, the beatings. Being cut or burned. Denied food or water or forced to eat and drink things that made him sick, vomiting for hours and nauseated for days. Held under ice-cold water. Tied up into uncomfortable positions until his muscles cramped, but staying silent as his body screamed in pain.

 

It all rushed through Ezra’s brain, leaving the teen hunching in on himself and gasping for air.

 

“Fuck,” Joshua swore, speeding up. They were only a few blocks from his house. “Ezra!”

 

Panic crawled up Ezra’s throat and set in its claws. His heart thundered in his chest, feeling as though it was going to simply seize and stop beating at any moment from the overload. He felt phantom hands on his body; touching, squeezing, hurting. There was nothing in his mouth, but he could feel it there, thrusting even though his mouth was tightly closed.

 

Ezra could hear Joshua talking on his phone, but couldn’t make out the words over the buzzing in his ears. The teen thought he was going to pass out or throw up, maybe both. He wrapped both hands over his mouth and bent forward, sucking air frantically through his nose.

 

Ezra didn’t feel the car pull into the driveway and stop. He vaguely noticed when his door was flung open. Then someone was touching him and his panic ratcheted up until he opened his eyes and saw Joshua, his beautiful blue-green eyes clouded with worry. He leaned into the older boy, and was rewarded with strong arms gently wrapping around him. The roaring in his ears slowly receded and Ezra could hear Joshua shouting.

“Mom! We’re here!” Josh turned his attention back to the teen in his arms. “Hey, shhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” he soothed. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you or they’ll get my boot up their asses. Breathe, hon. You’re gonna pass out if you keep huffing like that.” The college student turned his head to the house. “Mom! Dammit, hurry!”

 

Ezra heard a door and rushing footsteps. A little heart-shaped face with bright green eyes peeped over Joshua’s shoulder. Her messy auburn curls were escaping from the ponytail she’d valiantly tried to tame the locks with. At first glance she seemed very young, but there were laugh lines around her her eyes. The concern in her green gaze seemed wrong, like she should be grinning, not pursing her lips in a frown.

“Hey, honey,” the woman said gently. “Are you in a lot of pain? Is anywhere bleeding?”

 

“I asked him something and he just curled up and freaked out.” Joshua’s panic-laden voice was a sharp contrast to the woman’s calm tone. “Shit, I should have taken him to the hospital right away. I fucked up, Mom.”

 

“Hush, dear.” The woman patted her son’s shoulder. “I think he’s having a panic attack. What’s his name again?”

 

“Ezra,” Josh immediately replied. “Ezra Walker.”

 

She nodded. “Ezra?” she asked in a kind but no-nonsense tone. “Can you hear me, sweety?”

The teen nodded, burrowing closer to Joshua.

 

“Can’t breathe,” the frightened boy wheezed. “My heart…” But he couldn’t finish explaining that he thought he was having a heart attack.

 

“I think you’re having a panic attack, Ezra,” she explained. “I’m going to help you. I need you to listen to my voice. You’re going to be okay. Your body thinks you’re in trouble even though you are nice and fine here with me and Josh. We’re going to keep you safe.”

 

Her voice caught him, he felt compelled to pay attention. It was clear and firm, commanding, but loving and gentle. Like she was telling him something very important, but the message was being delivered with deep compassion. He listened carefully, trying to focus on her, not the racing of his heart or the constriction of his lungs.

 

“I see Josh is giving you a nice hug,” she continued. “He really cares about you and wants you to feel better. You are close enough, can you hear his heart beating? Can you feel his chest moving as he breathes?”

 

Ezra listened. He could hear it, Joshua’s heart. The teen pressed closer to the older boy. It was there, like an oddly tempoed drum hiding inside him. It wasn’t slow and calm, but it wasn’t a rushing rhythm like Ezra’s own. As he held himself close, Ezra also felt Joshua’s chest rise and fall as he breathed. It was slower than expected, Ezra had a fleeting thought that Josh was doing it on purpose. The breaths came in slowly, lifting Ezra slightly, then went out carefully. All while Joshua’s heart beat its song in Ezra’s ear.

 

“There we go,” the woman crooned. “That’s it. Just listen to Josh, feel how he’s breathing. Try to match him. Slow breaths in and slow breaths out. You can do it, Ezra. Slow in and slow out.”

 

The teen’s chest hitched at his first attempt, making him whimper. Joshua squeezed him tighter. Ezra thought about Josh tackling Brody, kicking Tom, chasing them off. Joshua was safe. Joshua had protected him.

Ezra took a long shuddering breath in, the invisible bands around his chest beginning to loosen. Maybe he wasn't going to die just yet.

 

They stayed like that, with Joshua holding Ezra close and Josh's mom giving gentle encouragement, until the anxious fear holding Ezra hostage eased and finally passed.

 

Ezra peeked up, face scrunched with embarrassment. “I'm sorry,” he whispered tremulously.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Joshua soothed, petting Ezra’s soft dark hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, honey,” Josh’s mom added. “Do you think you can stand up? Come inside?”

 

Ezra reluctantly released Joshua, letting the college student step away from the car. Ezra got out, still a little shaky. Joshua and his mother flanked him, ready if he should falter. The teen was surprised at how tiny Josh’s mom was, five feet, maybe less. Her presence was much larger than her frame. He saw she was wearing grass green scrubs. The color made her eyes look like bright brilliant emeralds.

 

They carefully walked up to Joshua’s home, a simple pale blue split-level with an attached garage. Flowerbeds with the last roses of the season stretched out on both sides of the door. A huge lilac bush had taken over the far corner of the house, branches reaching like it was hugging the home. Joshua’s mother always wanted to prune the massive thing, but his father kept talking her out of it. The window to his study was nearly hidden by the gentle green of the lilac’s leaves. In the spring he loved to open the window wide and enjoy the sight and smell of the bunches of tiny purple flowers as he worked.

 

It was fall, though, and the bush was missing any pretty purple adornments. Ezra noticed the mailbox to one side of the screen door as he hesitantly put his foot on the single concrete step. Mrs. Abigail and Mr. Johnathan Kline, was in small curving letters on the mailbox, with the address underneath. Joshua held open the screen door, then his mother opened the inner door.

 

Ezra took a deep calming breath and stepped inside.