The Artists - 12. A Day In The Life Of Casey

“So you’re Casey,” a deep voice said behind Casey.

He looked up from the washbasin at a young man, probably in his early twenties. The face was long with close set brown eyes. The sun highlighted brown hair was long, hanging damp below the shoulders. Further down dark hair covered a plain, unremarkable chest. The arms were long and slender. In fact, everything about the young man looked long and slender.

Casey wondered if that was true of the towel covered cock, too. Then he wondered why he thought of that. After all, he wasn’t gay and had no business imagining cocks. Well, other than Six’s which he’d touched and Cheri’s which he hadn’t yet seen, but knew was there or at least strongly suspected was there.

“I’m Brent,” the boy said holding out his hand to Casey, who took it and hoped it wouldn’t be his usual dead fish, but was surprised that it was Brent who offered the dead fish. Casey responded accordingly. “I came in last night. Eric picked me up at the airport; it was late so you probably didn’t notice. I guess I’ll be your peer support since Ben has been evicted.”

“Peer support? What’s that?” Casey asked. He immediately suspected he’d missed something over the past week.

“Don’t tell me Ben didn’t say anything, he can be like that sometimes,” Brent said. “He’s kind of shy.”

“He tried to, well, he tried to do something to me,” Casey said, feeling his cheeks brighten.

“Ben told me for some strange reason you don’t hate him for what he tried to do,” Brent said with a wry smile. Casey could tell Brent knew more than he was letting on. “For whatever it’s worth I am unequivocally, irrevocably straight. So you don’t have to worry about me trying to do anything with you. I hope we can become friends, though.”

“Sure,” Casey said as he watched the towel go from Brent’s hips to his shoulders. He swallowed at the sight. He never imagined a cock could be that long. Maybe it was just that Brent was so tall and slender that it exaggerated the apparent length of his cock, but it had to be nearly a foot long and it was slender, too. There didn’t seem to be much substance to it at all, but it was so long. Then to his surprise he wondered if he could get it down his throat.

“You’re staring,” Brent said as he stepped closer to Casey.

“No, I wasn’t,” Casey said, not taking his eyes off the cock.

“It doesn’t get much longer when hard,” Brent said.

They were so close Casey wouldn’t have to reach very far to touch it. As short as he was, he wouldn’t have to bend over that much to take it in his mouth. He swallowed and turned away from it. Now wasn’t the time.

“It’s okay, you’re not the first gay boy who’s ogled then backed away,” Brent said as he stepped up to the other washbasin and began to spread shaving cream over his face.

“I’m not gay,” Casey said, still not believing the words.

“You could’ve fooled me,” Brent said. “You were practically drooling at the thought of getting it in your mouth, not that I won’t mind. A blow job is a blow job whether it comes from your girlfriend or the gay boy next door.

“I’m not gay,” Casey said.

But, what was he going to do when he finally got into Cheri’s pants and had to grasp the dick she professed wasn’t there. Would he go down on her, too? Would he allow her to try to please him? They’d been out on two dates now and this afternoon he was going to get to meet her mother. A shiver ran down his back at the thought of being in the same room with Cheri and her mother. Cheri said something about Euphorbia bringing him over or taking him home. He wasn’t paying that much attention yesterday because he found he couldn’t think when someone’s tongue was in his mouth.

“You keep saying that and maybe you’ll stop staring at guys’ dicks,” Brent said as he picked up his razor. It was one of those old straight razors, the deadly kind that were always slitting people’s throats. “And, since you’re still staring, do you like my ass? Personally, I think it’s not much to look at.”

“Are you trying to be funny or just make me mad?” Casey asked. “Because I’m getting angry at all this gay stuff coming from you. I told you I’m not gay. Why can’t you people stop trying to make me be something I don’t want.”

“Whoa, boy, slow down here,” Brent said, turning to Casey. “I’m not the one who said you were gay. Like I said before, Ben spoke to me and I talked with Eric, you know, big guy, college professor with one arm.”

“I know everyone here,” Casey sneered.

“Good, because he said some things,” Brent started.

“Oh, god, he didn’t tell you I was sleeping with Peter, did he?” Casey asked, suddenly realizing he’d let the cat out on his own.

“No, actually, he didn’t,” Brent said. “The other half of the enigma, huh? Peter’s nice, isn’t he? I know because he’s helped me a lot with dealing with gays. I used to be really bad about homophobia, but this isn’t about me, is it?”

“No,” Casey whispered. Peter and Euphorbia told him there were very few secrets in the house. Someone always knew something about someone else, whether that secret got spread was another thing. Other than Tiffani, most everyone kept what they knew to themselves.

“This is about you acting inappropriately,” Brent said. “I can’t give you any sage advice because I’m only a few years older than you, but you’ve got to quit staring at the candy. If you can’t get it or don’t want to go through the hassle of getting it, quit acting like you want to do just that. Quite frankly, I don’t think I’d mind you practicing on me because I’ve never had a blow job, from anyone, but it’d be our little secret.”

“Peter told me about secrets around here,” Casey said. The cock was fuller now and he wondered if it could stand up on its own. After all, it was rather long and might be too heavy when fully hard for the muscles and tendons to, what? He stopped that train of thought when he noticed Brent’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s Sunday morning and you don’t have kitchen duty,” Brent said. He was caressing Casey’s neck. “Go ahead; curiosity’s gotten the better of you and, like I said, I’ve never had a blow job.”

“It is with some sadness that I say welcome back to Charles House for another year in your pursuit of a baccalaureate in art,” Eric said somberly at the head of a long table set up in the main lounge. With Brent’s late arrival in the night, everyone was present.

Casey looked at the table arrangement and saw the pattern, which was probably causing most of the whispering at the other end. The two chairs at either end of the table were empty. Eric and Peter sat opposite each other in the middle of the table. There were four chairs on either side of them. Casey figured he was sitting either at the end of the table or the head, across from him was Six’s empty chair; the freshman row. In the row next to him, for sophomores, were the empty chairs for Tiffani and Ben. Then came Peter and Eric, after which Brent sat opposite another boy, then a row with a boy and a girl, and, finally, and empty chair at the head where Casey figured Jim should be sitting.

“Of our two freshmen, only Casey Pale joins us this morning,” Eric continued. “The other one, Kevin David Charles, the Sixth, is in the hospital, which explains the absence of Kevin and why I’m speaking to you this morning. For our sophomores, Tiffani is also in the hospital and Ben is not living here anymore. I’ll explain more in a little bit. The chair at the head is empty because Jim has decided to pursue some personal interests that he’s neglected for quite a few years. We’re not certain he’ll be back.

“As I said Kevin the Sixth is our other freshman and is also Kevin’s nephew. The boy prefers being called ‘Six’ which works for us because it’s confusing enough with Kevin the junior …”

Casey looked at the other Kevin while Eric continued talking about Six and his uncle Kevin. The boy was short, scrawny, and wore glasses he kept pushing up on his nose with the middle finger on the left hand. His black, curly hair was neatly trimmed, but the pale, pimply face looked troubled, full of foreboding. The hands were also small and appeared to be mostly bone with tight, reddish skin pulled over them. “

Casey’s awareness returned to Eric who was still speaking, “… and across from wonderful, helpful Kevin is Brent, who has offered to take on the responsibilities as peer support for Casey and to do the associated kitchen work …”

Casey thought about what happened earlier with Brent and wondered why he’d done it so willingly and then gotten into it so voraciously. He’d actually been able to get about half the length down his throat which surprised him so much that he had to go slow just to check the total amount that was inside him. He figured it had to be close to his stomach. There was still a good five inches before his nose would get tickled by Brent dark pubic hair, but he felt it was an accomplishment. Unfortunately, he’d never be able to tell anyone about it; well, maybe Six, but no one else, especially not Cheri.

Was he really gay? He kind of felt he wasn’t even though he’d slept with Peter, but they hadn’t kissed. They just slept together and he sucked Peter in the morning, that was all there was to it. He decided that wasn’t too gay because he was young and inexperienced in the ways and means of sex and, therefore, couldn’t be expected to have to commit to a life based on just that.

He liked Peter who was sitting one chair away from him, but was that love? Did he love a sixty-year-old man? Somehow that didn’t sound right. Even Peter had been reluctant from the beginning for Casey to do anything. Then eventually it was just his initiative that got the process rolling every morning.

Though, now, they weren’t sleeping together. He wanted to, but he knew people were going to talk. People always talked. He was assumed to be gay in middle and high school because people talked about what happened at his mother’s church when he was accused of being the tempter, the Devil’s right hand, in the undoing of his uncle, a righteous and upstanding man according to his mother. All the willing members of the church, there were a few not afraid to catch the queer disease, laid hands on him and prayed for him, pleading for Jesus to force the Devil from Casey’s heart. It might have worked if he’d been gay, but he was just a thirteen-year-old boy who’d been attacked by a pervert who just happened to be his uncle.

People said horrible things about him after that. He was no longer allowed in the church lest some poor, innocent soul took pity on him and be tempted, too. His mother brought home tapes of the service, which for many weeks had sermons on the sin of homosexuality, but there was no longer any mention of his name. They’d written him off to the Devil and moved on.

Yet, was he gay? He willingly sucked Brent and got a few inches of that long monster down his throat. Well, that was kind of easy in a way because there was no thickness to Brent’s cock. It was just incredibly long and when it stiffened up it kind of felt like a rubber hose with water in it. There was still some flexibility, which Casey attributed to its length. Brent would have to have super high blood pressure to get that thing to properly stand up, but with all the blood in it, there weren’t enough ligaments to hold it up. It was an oddity. A practice toy to be enjoyed, but was he gay enough to truly enjoy sucking Brent on a regular basis? Did he want to?

Yeah, actually he could say that he wanted to suck Brent, if only for the novelty of it. Did that make him gay? Did liking other guys cocks make you gay? Wasn’t it more about love and being in a relationship? It would be different if he was sleeping with Brent, which might happen since Brent had only been here since the previous night. They hadn’t gotten to that point, yet.

“Casey? We’re done, honey,” Euphorbia said.

Casey looked up at her and then around the table. He was the only one still sitting down. Everyone was staring at him.

“Again, I can’t stress this enough,” Eric said, “if any of you see Karl Klein anywhere, call the police. They definitely want to talk to him and don’t go trying to be heroic and try to capture him. He came quite close to killing Tiffani and he should be considered dangerous. Let the police handle him. As for Ben, well, he knows he’s not permitted on the premises. If any of you wants to be stupid, try thinking about Ben’s situation. Just sitting out on our front steps could be grounds to have him completely removed from North Park. Well, that concludes our little session. Everyone, please welcome Casey and we’ll try to get back to normal as soon as we can.”

Casey stood at his chair trying to remember what he had been thinking. Something about Brent, who was at that moment walking toward him. The other Kevin was approaching from the other side of the table. The seniors were heading for the buffet table, which would have to be cleaned before Casey could go to see Cheri.

“How’re you doing?” Brent asked. “You seemed kind of zoned there for awhile, which Eric probably didn’t appreciate. He prides himself on being a good speaker, being a prof and all.”

“He’s not wearing his arm,” Casey said.

“Yeah, he does that all the time,” Brent said. “Bother you?”

“A little,” Casey said.

“This is Kevin, my counterpart in this fiasco,” Brent said.

“Hi,” Casey said, holding out his hand.

“Brent says you’re queer,” Kevin said.

“Why would he say that?” Casey asked.

“Maybe because you sucked his cock,” Kevin said. “Just for the record, I’m not so you can get any thoughts about putting those filthy lips of yours anywhere near mine.”

“Sure, I’ll try to remember that,” Casey said, as he watched Brent and Kevin head for the stairs. He could’ve sworn they were laughing. He pulled out his chair and sat down.

Whether he was gay or not, he’d been tagged as such and was going to have just as many problems here as at home. He wondered if it was all worth it. Maybe he should’ve tried for a scholarship elsewhere, but the Robert Charles Scholarship was so tantalizing, so beneficial that he couldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if he had to lie just a tiny bit about being an artist.

“Hi, we’re Lynda and Michael, the seniors,” Michael said holding out his hand. “I’m Michael and that’s Lynda, with a “y” if that matters to you.”

“Hi,” Casey mumbled, but was surprised he didn’t get a dead fish.

“Don’t worry about those two,” Lynda said, after she kissed Casey on the cheek. “They’ve been nothing but trouble since they were freshmen. Always joking and carrying on about everything. So, you’re gay.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Casey said. “Maybe one of these days I’ll believe them.”

“You’re young and don’t have to make any commitments until you’re twenty-one,” Michael said. “Right Lynda?”

“You bet,” Lynda said. “I’ve been a lesbian since god knows when, but living here in Charles House with Michael, I’m not so certain I want to look forward to a future with some bitchy broad. If all men are as nice as Michael, I think I wouldn’t mind having a guy pole in my cunt. Isn’t that right, Michael?”

“That’s what you’ve always told me and anytime you want to see what it’s like I’ve got the pole to use,” Michael said.

“You guys are kidders,” Casey said, watching the smiles broaden across their faces.

“Better than being a kiddie,” Lynda said. “Come on, we’ll help clean up the buffet. I understand you’ve got a girlfriend. Does she go to North Park?”

“Yeah,” Casey said. “I met her at Orientation.”

“And, everyone says he’s gay,” Michael said. “You bring her over to supper sometime and that’ll dispel all the rumors. Does she have a name?”

“Cheri,” Casey said as he picked up the punch bowl. Euphorbia said one of the ingredients was champagne, but Casey figured she was lying. It was a variety of citrus juices with raspberry sorbet balls floating in it.

“Cheri as in ‘S-h-e-r-r-y?’ ” Lynda asked. Casey wasn’t looking at her so he didn’t see the look of concern she made toward Michael.

“No, it’s C-h-e-r-i,” Casey said. He looked up from the punch bowl and saw their sour faces. “What?”

“We know Cheri,” Michael said. “Her mother is over here quite a bit talking to Euphorbia.”

“Yeah, Cheri said they were friends and she said Peter took her to the zoo when she was little,” Casey said. “So, what’s the problem?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, come one let’s get this cleaned up,” Lynda said.

A short while later Casey stood at the door to Cheri’s apartment. As far as he was concerned it wasn’t an official date, they were just going to do some shopping, but he was hesitant about knocking. Michael and Lynda were definitely hiding something about Cheri, but Casey decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. They probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway. He rapped on the door a couple of times and waited.

“Yes?” A woman asked. She was in her late thirties to early forties. It looked like she was wearing a wig because the hair strands were too shiny and didn’t move naturally. The eyebrows were trimmed to practically nothing and painted black. The whole face was covered with too much makeup giving the woman a theatrical appearance. She was tall, too, but quite slender without a hint of breasts, which got Casey to thinking.

“I’m Casey,” the boy said, silently hoping he’d come to the wrong apartment building, apartment, or universe.

“What a sweet dear, come in my boy,” the woman said as she backed away and opened the door with a flourish.

‘She’s wacko,’ Casey thought.

“Cheri, dear, your sweet prince is here,” the woman called out. “I’m Cheri’s mother and I think I’ll have you call me, oh what will it be, yes! That’s it! You will call me Madame Williams. Can you do that, Casey?”

“Sure, Madame Williams,” Casey said all the while thinking, ‘She’s completely nuts.’

“Splendid! Cheri! Get your little ass out here, your boyfriend is getting antsy,” the woman called out. “She’s such a little tart, but you won’t find a kinder lass in all of our fair land.”

‘Nuts!’ Casey thought. “Totally, unequivocally nuts.’

“Hi, Casey,” Cheri said as she came out of the hall leading to the bedrooms. “Do you need to pee before we venture forth upon the day?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Casey said. They met for a moment in passing and held hands.

“Oh, you beautiful boy, let me plant a good one on you,” Cheri said before she took his head in her hands and kissed him hard on the lips. “Rejoice, dear sweet boy, the Phoenix rises yet again.”

Casey stood there trying to figure out what was going on.

“I thought you had to make water,” Cheri said.

“What?” Casey asked. He knew they were going to start laughing at him at any moment. He just knew it.

“Go pee,” Cheri said.

Only Cheri was in the living room when Casey retuned from the bathroom. He looked around and kind of shrugged his shoulders. The day just wasn’t going well at all. Tomorrow classes started and he felt as if he was at a crossroads and had to choose whether to continue here or to go back home and figure out something else.

“Everything come out okay?” Cheri asked with a smile.

“Yeah, it was a flush of victory,” Casey said.

“Good because we’ve got a long bus ride and I don’t want to have to get off too soon so you can go behind a bush,” Cheri said.

“Do you and your mother talk like that all the time?” Casey asked.

“Of course, it makes for a better relationship, speaking of which would you like to go to dinner with us?”

“Sure, I guess,” Casey said. He thought about having that woman in public, but figured if Cheri wasn’t concerned why should he worry.

“Good. Madame, oh, Madame? The little boy said yes. Will dear, sweet Peter join us?”

Cheri’s mother came out from the kitchen; except she looked more like Cheri’s father. Casey stared at her taking quick notes of the discrepancies in her appearance. She’d been washing her hair and all the makeup was gone, too. She definitely looked like a guy.

Casey looked at Cheri and then at the false woman. Then he stood up and walked back to Cheri’s bedroom, went in, shut the door, and sat on the bed. It was one thing to suspect Cheri was a guy like Euphorbia, but to have Cheri’s mother turn out to be a guy, too, was a bit much.

He pulled off his t-shirt and stood up to unbuckle his jeans just at the moment Cheri came in. She shut the door and Casey heard the lock click.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She came over to him and handed his t-shirt back to him. “Put it back on. We can’t make out while Mother is home.”

“Is that your mother?” Casey asked. “And, as long as I’m asking questions, what is your real name?”

He sat back down on the bed and watched Cheri pull her sun dress over her head. All she had on was a bra and pink lace panties. It was more than obvious what was hidden inside, but she pulled them down and stepped out of them. The cock was on the smallish side and completely devoid of hair. Casey wondered if that’s what guys like Cheri and Peter did because Peter didn’t have any hair down there either. The breasts were completely fake, foam inserted into the cups.

Casey looked at Cheri and wondered why, how could a person do that to themselves?

“My real name is Timothy Allen Williams,” Cheri said as she sat down next to Casey. “Your turn.”

Casey knew he could just walk out the door and, other than at classes, would never see or associate with Cheri again. Instead, he stood up and took off his clothes.

“You don’t have a dick,” Cheri said.

“It’s hidden in all the extra fat and skin down there,” Casey said. He lay back and stared at the ceiling.

“Wow, you’re more like a girl than me,” Cheri said. “You don’t have a dick and you have breasts. I suppose Euphorbia has seen you, no wait, let me take that back. It was Peter, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Casey said. “That’s your dad out there isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Mommy died when I was three and Daddy raised me,” Cheri said. “I didn’t know it but he was cross-dressing even before Mommy died. Then when she wasn’t here anymore, he started doing it at home. He explained it all to me and I understand completely; I guess I was no more than six at the time. It’s something he has to do.”

“Do you have to do it, too?” Casey asked. He hadn’t meant it to sound derogatory, but realized too late that it did. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it to sound like I couldn’t like you if your name was Cheri. I’m just so confused about all this gay stuff; and, now to have you and your father trying to look like women. It’s bad enough with Euphorbia and Peter. Oh, and you have a nice dick, by the way.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” Cheri said as she straddled him. She bent down and kissed him lightly. “Daddy sent me to a psychiatrist when he found out I was wearing girl’s panties, but the shrink said it was just a phase I was going through. I’d grow out of it. I was ten and it’s gotten easier. After I graduated, I started doing it all the time.”

Casey shut his eyes and let her kiss him. There was no rush to this. They had all the time in the world, maybe even all the time that had ever been since someone or something came up with this crazy idea of a universe. She was kissing his neck, now, as he felt her scoot back to where their cocks would rub against each other if he had a cock, that is.

She was working his nipples now with lips, tongue, and teeth on one side and fingertips on the other. He could feel himself becoming aroused and thoughts of the pain to come started to cloud his mind. Yet, he forced them away because for the first time in his young life he was having sex with someone else. This wasn’t blowing Brent or Peter nor was it giving Six a hand job, this was real sex and he knew he should start planning on how he was going to respond.

Cheri was standing now, bent over with her face buried in the folds of fat between Casey’s legs. He could see her erection, Timmy’s erection. He wondered if she liked being called Timmy. That probably stopped a long time ago, somewhere around the time of the panties.

He could feel himself, now. He was very close, but the pain hadn’t started. It was going to start at any moment he was certain of that. It always came just before as if to signal him to get his dinky little penis pointed in the correct direction or just take the dribbly spurts in his hand as he usually did. This time, though, it was Cheri who was on the receiving end. She was going to take his offering. He glanced at her erection, again. She had a hand on it. She was taking care of herself. There would be no mutual exchange this time.

Casey lay back and shut his eyes as the most incredible feel swept over his body. He couldn’t believe this is what an orgasm felt like. This was totally unbelievable and what was even more unbelievable there hadn’t been any pain, none.

Cheri was straddling him, again. He looked up into her eyes and then down at a pearl of come at the tip of her cock. He wiped it away with a fingertip and put it in his mouth.

“Timmy?” Casey asked.

Cheri stared at him and then jabbed her fingers into his ribs.

“Yeow! Don’t! Stop!” Casey screamed as nerve endings were assaulted. She didn’t know it, but this was a very good way to get him to pee. It was a good thing he’d done it earlier or she was going to have a big problem.

“Don’t ever call me Timmy,” Cheri said.

“You came by yourself,” Casey said. “You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” Cheri said. She was lightly pinching his nipples. “I got caught up in the moment.”

“Can I ask a favor?” Casey asked. “If we become boyfriends, no, I mean it, boyfriends, not boyfriend girlfriend because I’m sorry you’re just not girl enough for me. When we’re alone sometimes and I’m very close to you can I call you Timmy, please? And, one more thing, will you grow a little hair down there? Just a little bit over your cock. I want my girlfriend to be all boy when it matters, okay?”

“Then this is a proposal?” Cheri asked. “You want to like get engaged or something? Are we suddenly going steady?”

“Isn’t that want you wanted?” Casey asked. He reached out with his hand and began to stroke her cock. “I thought that was the whole point of this. Or am I just some sex toy who’ll be discarded when the fun wears off?”

“No, you’re no toy,” Cheri said as she scooted forward so that her now hard cock easily slipped into Casey’s mouth.

“Well, did you have fun tonight?” Peter asked as he and Casey walked back through the warm evening air to Charles House.

“Yeah, it was kind of nice seeing all of you in civies,” Casey said. “Four, regular men out on the town, even though it was a gay restaurant with really cute waiters.”

“Shame on you!” Peter exclaimed. “You’re taken, boy. No more wandering eyes.”

“Are you and Madame going to get married?” Casey asked. The men had said they were strongly considering moving in together, possibly buying a house.

“Maybe,” Peter said quietly.

They walked on in silence.

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

“I’m still not positively certain I might be gay.”

“You’re still young and have a long time to figure out stuff like that.”

“I don’t want to upset Cheri.”

“You two are getting close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

It was late, past time to go to bed. Casey stood in the bathroom at his sink and spat out the toothpaste foam. He cupped some water into his mouth and spat again. He kept his eyes averted from the image in the mirror. There was a gay boy over there and he didn’t want to look at him.

He splashed cold water on his face and thought about the past week. It had gone so terribly wrong almost every day and now he was practically engaged to another boy. Well, a boy who wanted to be treated like a girl. A boy named Timmy who wanted to be called Cheri.

They were going to make love some day, maybe sooner than Casey wanted. Yet, he wanted her inside him. He wanted the feel of her having her orgasm while inside him and that made him very, very gay.

He looked up at the boy in the mirror and felt nauseous. He looked around the room and saw Brent’s straightedge razor. He went over to the other boy’s sink and picked up the deadly instrument. One more glance at the gay boy in the mirror told him what had to be done.

Holding the razor in his right hand, he held out his left hand. This was going to hurt a lot, but it had to be done.

“Casey, I heard you in here,” Brent said coming into the room. “Oh, my god, Casey stop!”

Casey ignored the voice as best he could. He had to do this. He pushed the razor edge against his skin and saw droplets of blood come up along it. He’d been right, this hurt like hell.

“Casey! Somebody help me!” Brent called out.

Casey felt his right arm being pulled back, but he struggled to finish the job. He tried to pull his arm away from Brent. For being such a skinny guy, Brent seemed to have muscles hidden away somewhere on his body, but Casey wasn’t giving up.

“What’s going on in here?” Someone asked behind Casey.

The razor was close to his wrist again. He pushed it down against Brent’s struggle to pull it away. Just a quick slice would do it. Just a quick slice, but he felt his left arm being pulled behind him. There was an arm around his neck. Another hand grabbed his right arm. He was going down for the count.