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    Mikiesboy
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

My LIfe: In Pieces - 6. A New Day

This is one day in my life. It's pretty brutal, Jeff was a violent man. I wasn't sure whether I should post this. I haven't wanted to for sometime. But there's been lots of talk about guns lately, and this is my first memory of one. It's fairly high level, no real graphic stuff.

It was early, and cold. I stood on the porch of the house and sucked some frigid air into my lungs. My body was sore and my head ached; hungover from all the booze I’d drunk. I stood there, tired, used, knowing I had to walk out to the main road to meet Jeff.

I shoved my right hand into the front pocket of my too-tight jeans. My fingers found the five-dollar bill Jeff had given me the night before. In the inner pocket of my jacket was the envelope my ‘host’ had given me for my services. I didn’t dare open it, or I’d risk Jeff’s anger.

Once I confirmed I had my fiver, I walked down the steps to the sidewalk and headed toward the doughnut shop to meet Jeff.

I opened the door to Tim’s and walked to the counter. I ordered a double double and two Boston Cream doughnuts. Settling in a quiet corner table, I wolfed the food and swallowed the coffee. Sugar and caffeine calmed my cravings and settled my nerves.

It had been a long night, with lots of sex, drugs and booze. Jeff ‘rented’ me to parties as the boy who never said no. A rent boy, but not the pretty-boy twink who paid for his booze or school that way. No, no one that important, or that good. By this time, I was a junkie, and I cut to relieve tension – to cope.

Jeff sat down across from me as I swallowed the last of the medium coffee. He was silent, gazing at me with bloodshot eyes. He was skinny and his Adam’s apple was prominent; his lips were dry and cracked. He ran his tongue over them. “Money?”

I nodded, pulled the envelope from my coat and handed it over.

Not trusting me – he never did – he ran his finger over the flap, looking for tampering.

I bit the inside of my lip, leaned forward and whispered, “It’s all there. I never touched it.”

With his cool stare on me, he folded the unopened envelope. Then leaning to one side, he lifted his hips and shoved the money into his right front pocket. “No? Make sure you don’t.”

Jeff got to his feet. “Come on, you got a customer.”

I looked up at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

His eyes darkened. He bent until his nose was a centimeter from mine. He’d grabbed the collar of my jacket and twisted it, tightening it around my neck. Those cold eyes never left mine. His voice was soft, and menacing. “No, Timmie, I am not fucking kidding you. Get up and let’s go, or I’ll drag you out of here.”

We stared at each other for another moment, and then I pushed myself out of the plastic chair. Jeff released his grip on my jacket and settled it on my left bicep. I stumbled as he pulled me from the store. The eyes of the few customers watched us.

“What the fuck, Jeff? I’m tired, was up all night.”

His grip tightened. “Suck it up.” We turned down an alley.

“I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

He shoved me against a building so hard my head bounced on the brick. My vision swam, nausea threatened what I’d just put in my belly. I groaned and slipped down the wall to my knees.

His hand on the wall, Jeff squatted down beside me.

“Two guys are willing to pay for your company. I told em how pretty you are, and about the fact they can both fuck you at the same time.”

He pulled me to my feet. Grinning broadly as he ran a finger over my lips, and then down my throat, he whispered, “That mouth.”

He blinked and said, “You will not fuck this up.” Holding my shoulders, he kneed me in the belly and this time I did vomit up all I’d just eaten. He shook some puke off his shoe and then dragged me along.

It was early still and we got onto the Kingston Road bus. We rode it out to the East End where all the cheap, no-questions-asked motels were. It took about forty-five minutes to get out there.

I slept a little with Jeff’s arm around me, and my head on his shoulder.

“Timmie … Timmie.” He shook me gently. “Come on, we need to get off.”

I opened my eyes and followed obediently. “Jeff … please … please.”

He pulled me across the road and into the Castaway Motel parking lot. “It’s the last room. Come on.”

Pulling back, I stopped and stood swaying. “Please … I can’t … please.”

He looked at me and took my hand. Our eyes met, there were tears in his. “Timmie, you have to. If you don’t … please. After this you can rest, I swear.”

Jeff wiped his tears away. “Come on.”

 

 

He banged on the door. It opened. The man standing there was big. He nodded at me. “That him?”

Jeff answered, “Yeah. He needs a shower. He was working.”

“Get inside.”

I followed Jeff, my head bowed. He led me to the small bathroom. “Shower, come on.”

“Okay.” I stepped into the bathroom and pulled off my clothes. I turned on the shower and stepped in. It felt good. I washed, and then just stood there letting the water run over me.

I pulled on my jeans only, once I was dry. I leaned my head on the door and closed my eyes. I was so tired; my muscles were aching and didn’t want to do anything but sleep.

A loud knock on the door roused me. “Come on.”

“Coming.” I pulled the door open. I looked around; the room was dim. “Jeff?”

“Your buddy left. You gonna be good?”

The one who spoke sat on the bed. He stroked his dick with one hand and leveled a huge revolver at me.

I couldn’t move. No one had ever pointed a gun at me before. I could only stare at it. My stomach roiled; I sucked in air and tried to swallow my fear. I could hear the other guy laughing.

The one on the bed said, “Come here, kid.”

I did as I was told.

“Up here, beside me. Stay on your knees.”

Crawling up the bed, I knelt beside him. I could smell him. I felt the cold of the gun under my chin. Tears filled my eyes.

He chuckled. “You afraid, kid? I’m not gonna hurt you.” He gestured down at his now erect member. “You look after me right, boy, and there will be no need for me to hurt you. Got it?”

I nodded. He moved the barrel from under my chin. I felt it rest on the back of my neck. He pushed my head down. “Now, get to work. It’s gonna be a long day.”

 

 

“Timmie … Tim … wake up.”

I opened my eyes. Jeff sat next to me on the bed. I jumped.

“It’s okay.” His voice was soft. “They’re gone. Let’s get you dressed.”

He handed me my clothes.

I winced as I bent to pull on my socks.

“Did they hurt you?”

I glared at him. “Who are they? They had guns, Jeff. Who the fuck are they?”

“People you don’t want to know.”

I buttoned my shirt over my bruises. “Then why was I here?”

“Look, it’s done. So, come on. I’ll get some food and we’ll go home.”

“It’s done?”

“Come on, Tim. Let’s go.”

We walked out of the room, down toward the bus stop.

 

 

“You’re all I got, Timmie.”

I knew he was right as I felt his arm go around me.

I never found out who those men were. I have an idea but that's all. I know Jeff was afraid them.

Thanks for reading. If you have comments or questions, they are welcome.

Thank you to AC Benus for continuing to edit these for me.
Copyright © 2017 Mikiesboy; All Rights Reserved.
  • Sad 14
  • Angry 6
The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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24 minutes ago, Mikiesboy said:

 i still care because he was broken, and hurt. And i couldn't save him ... that guilt still lays on my heart.  I guess a twisted version of Stockholm Syndrome.

 

You can’t fix people who want to stay broken, in the end, he fixed himself the way he chose to and that isn’t on you.  

I think you made him see whatever better self in him still existed but he rejected it, punished you for it, in a way.

I’m actually put in mind of Headstall’s story “The Tree” when I think of you and Jeff, except you saved yourself.

That you chose to stay with him speaks to how open you were to love and acceptance after the ruthless rejection of your father....how I wish you had stumbled upon a priest when you got off the bus.

As you say, it is the past now and a testament to your present is how you are able to revisit it to purge it. 👏

Happy Saturday to you.  :hug:

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3 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

I guess a twisted version of Stockholm Syndrome.

I see it as evidence of the kindness and caring nature that is you, tim. 

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