Facing the Demons

By Dezlboi

 

 

Tyler wiped the inside of the windshield with a paper napkin for what seemed to him like the fiftieth time, trying to keep the fogging at bay. It was a chilly October night, the 30^th in fact, and he was making the drive home from school to see his parents for the weekend. He wished the steady drizzle would end, or at least intensify a bit into a proper rain, so his wipers were more effective. As it was, he was fighting a constant smear on the outside, and a persistent fog on the inside; not the safest of driving conditions.

 

He pulled off the highway onto a back road, winding up behind his hilly New England hometown. Sodium-vapor streetlamps cast their nuclear-esque horror-movie glow down onto home after suburban home, lending a garish and grotesque appearance to the Halloween lawn ornaments that were meant to be benign and kid-friendly. Tyler wondered absently to himself just when the holiday had been completely neutered, when Dracula was reduced to a cereal box mascot and when Frankenstein and animated skeletons started to smile at little kids coming for treats. Who stole the gothic horror, the mystery, the soul out of the night?

 

Left turn, right turn, left again, left again, curving up and around the road he had driven countless times since getting his license a few years back. This route would soon crest a high hill and afford him a view of most of the town sprawling out below him. Off to his left, to the south, was the downtown area with a few restaurants, the town’s grocery store, assorted shops, and the town offices. To his right was home, and straight ahead, a good mile or so in the distance, was the high school, the field already brightly lit, though the game wouldn’t start for another ninety minutes. Beyond that was darkness, or so it seemed from this vantage point, but Tyler knew that for several acres off past the school was the largest graveyard in the town. Nearly every night of the year you could drive by and see the dim twinkling lights of memorial candles burning, lit by loved ones in remembrance, but to Ty they always appeared more as though discontented spirits were clinging with desperation to this world, unable to stray far from their final resting places. He had dark, unpleasant feeling about that place; not a memory really, but a sense of unease lodged deep in his gut. Shaking the old ghosts out of his thoughts, he turned right and headed down into the suburban street maze where his home stood.

 

Tyler’s mom was waiting with a smile and a hug when he arrived home safe; he was her youngest child and she worried a little about him driving home on this dark, rainy night. Two of his oldest friends, Drew and Eden, sat at the bar separating the kitchen from the small dining room just inside the entryway. They had been munching contentedly on a bowl of assorted nuts, waiting patiently, happily taking advantage of the Kloeden family’s hospitality. As Tyler tossed his keys onto the counter, they rose and both grabbed him into rough hugs.

 

“We gotta get goin’ bro,” Eden said, picking his jacket up off of the back of his chair and pulling it on. “The game starts in an hour and we’ve got a lot of people to see.”

 

“Shit, E,” began Drew, blushing and looking down under Mrs. Kloeden’s reproachful ‘did-you-just-swear-in-my-house’ look, “give Ty a second to unwind, he just drove for like two hours!”

 

“Naw, let’s get going. I can sleep later; I wanna get over there, and the game’s gonna be a mudbath. Good times,” Tyler said with a grin.

 

He tossed the duffel bag containing his weekend clothes in his old room, kissed his mom, grabbed his keys from the counter, and led his friends back out through the drizzling rain to his car.

 

More memories fluttered back, like the autumn leaves drifting down from the tall maples lining the streets, falling in twos and threes as the car zipped past. The playground at the end of the street never changed, looked just as it did when he was two, and when he was twelve. East Main Street was the same road he’d taken to school for years, and though the houses might change colors or change owners, the bones beneath remained. A childhood fight on that street corner, a particularly good haul of Halloween loot down in that cul-de-sac, school bus rides in the early morning, both good and bad, and thousands of other ‘leaves’ collected in piles on the landscape of his mind and lost their individual feeling of happy or sad, collectively giving way instead to a majestic autumn portrait.

 

The trip to the high school field from Tyler’s house only took a few minutes, even including the time it took to swing through the drive-thru and pick up a snack for the famished traveler. The football rivalry with neighboring Camptown was legendary, and a town-wide obsession; arriving early meant that they only had to park a block down the road; in another half an hour, they might have had to park all the way down by the center of town. They pulled off the road into the grassy shoulder and climbed out of the car, noting with optimism that the spitting rain seemed to have let up a bit.

 

Walking and talking, they made their way down the block and around the corner to the entry gate, Eden and Drew walking side-by-side and Tyler ahead of them, walking backwards to face them. The pair filled Ty in on who they would be meeting – Jim and Tracy, Steph and Scott, Mike and Jess, all high school couples, all band kids who had somehow stuck together for over a year after graduating.

 

“Amy should be there, too, actually,” added Drew. That perked Tyler up a little; Amy was probably the girl whom he had been closest to all through junior and senior year, though it was getting harder and harder to keep in touch since she also went to school a couple of hours away, but in the opposite direction. No thought had existed between them that was too private or too personal to share, and that bond remained strong despite them seeing less and less of each other. Still, he would always taste a hint of bitter guilt on the back of his tongue when he thought that perhaps he could do a better job of staying in touch.

 

The three didn’t say a word for a while as they merged in with the other early-arrivers to pay for their tickets and squeeze through the gate. The crowd thinned out a bit soon after, as some people headed off to the visitors stands, some to the snack bar and bathrooms, and the rest, including Tyler, Drew, and Eden, meandered over to the home stands. Almost immediately, they found their crew, standing in a vague circle at about the twenty-yard line. All three couples present and accounted for, plus Randy, Steph’s younger brother who was a junior this year and a few of his friends.

 

But where was Amy? Stepping up onto the first level of bleachers, he had a very good view of the surrounding crush of people. Scanning back the way they had come, he saw no sign of her, so she hadn’t come in close behind them. Looking further downfield along the bleachers, he saw head after unrecognizable head. Spotting her in this mess would be a miracle, or…would it? He thought he caught a familiar face, though the odds were certainly against it; but looking again, he saw he was right. Amy stood about fifty yards away, facing towards him, talking to a smaller figure until she looked up and saw him wave. She waved back, slightly frantically, and gestured him over. “Be right back guys,” he said over his shoulder as he headed in her direction.

 

“Tyler! Hug!” she grinned, holding her arms out wide and leaving no room for disagreement. He wrapped his own arms around her and lifted her up a bit in a tight embrace, and then set her back down while turning to see who she had been speaking with. He didn’t recognize his face, and turned back to Amy for an introduction.

 

She looked a bit perplexed. “You two haven’t met? Weird…Tyler, this is Nick. Nick, Tyler.”

 

Tylergave Nick a quick appraisal as they shook hands. He wasn’t good looking, or at least not in the commonly-held standard of ‘attractive’, if there was such a standard. He might have been called cute, but in the way that small, younger-looking people are often described. Nick was a slight boy, there was just no way around that; he was perhaps all of five-foot-two and slender. His hair was a dark, inky black, and sort of tousled about, and he didn’t look like he needed to shave regularly yet. His face would have been sweet, innocent perhaps, if not for the haunted look in his eyes. Instead, he had the presence of a stray black cat that had been terrorized a few too many times by cruel neighborhood kids. They didn’t have much time to exchange more than a polite greeting, though, before the rest of the crew had walked over and engulfed the three of them.

 

They all hung out in a big knot in front of the bleachers, catching up on each other’s lives since the last visit, keeping warm with concession stand hot cocoa, making plans for the rest of the weekend, and occasionally even watching the game. Tyler noticed that Nick kept looking at him as though he was suspicious and needed observation. Nick also stayed to the opposite side of Amy at all times, like he needed a buffer or protection and this struck Tyler as rather odd since Nick didn’t even know him and he certainly didn’t have a reputation as someone to fear. Ty tried to pull him into the conversations by asking him questions and smiling at him, but Nick remained quiet and withdrawn.

 

When the game ended, Steph announced that they could all head over to her place because her parents were out of town and she was up for a little ‘party action’, as she gigglingly phrased it. Eden and Drew rode with Steph and Scott so Amy and Tyler could have a few minutes alone. Tyler didn’t see where Nick got off to, but Amy said that he would meet them there.

 

“I figured out why you two hadn’t met before,” Amy said, looking out the window and up at the low overcast sky that reflected the light pollution of a thousand streetlamps right back down on the ground below. “He’s friends with Heather. So we know a lot of the same people, but…” she trailed off.

 

“Ah,” Ty said, shortly. That explained the suspicious looks, he thought. Heather moved in the same circles that he did when he was at school here, mainly the music, drama, and arts department, but there was bad blood between Tyler and Heather that went back a year or two to Tyler’s junior prom. He’d asked Heather to the event, who had eagerly accepted, and who clearly expected things to go further than just the dance. She was pretty, thought Tyler, but she was rather dim, not that interesting, and female. When he never asked her for a date afterward, she reacted quite angrily and vocally, and never spoke to him willingly again. If Nick, who was at least two years younger than Tyler, hung out with Heather, then no doubt his mind was full of horror stories of how much of a demon Tyler Kloeden was.

 

They enjoyed their quiet, comfortable company for the rest of the ride over to the party, and soon he found himself sunk deeply into an oversized leather sectional sofa in Steph’s family’s living room with a cup of some unidentifiable and deadly alcoholic punch in his hand. He’d allow himself just one; he wasn’t so concerned about breaking the law, but he was concerned about driving intoxicated and wrecking his only means of freedom from exile in the Berkshires. Quite a number of other people showed up as well, and several times during the night, he had a rather intoxicated girl sit or lie across his lap, giggling and flirting. Amy, sitting next to him for most of the time, rolled her eyes continuously.

 

At one point, another body landed in his lap, and Ty didn’t even bother to look since one more boozy floozy wasn’t going to get a rise out of him. Amy, who had been talking to him at the time, rolled her eyes yet again and got up to grab a snack, leaving him with a lapful. When he looked over, though, he was surprised to see that it was Nick. He was even more surprised to see that he was only wearing a pair of plaid flannel boxers. “Umm, hi?” Tyler said.

 

“Hi,” replied Nick, quietly. They just stared at each other for a few moments as Tyler wasn’t sure what to make of the situation and Nick wasn’t offering an explanation. Then, after a few more moments of awkwardness, Nick spoke in a sullen tone. “You’re not what I expected.”

 

“And what did you expect?” Tyler inquired.

 

“You’re nice. I always heard you were a real jerk.” Nick wasn’t meeting Tyler’s eyes now, as if embarrassed to say it.

 

“Well, you probably heard that from someone who’s a bit biased. Mind telling me why you’re only wearing your underwear?”

 

“Some of the drama club kids heard that I could suck myself off and were trying to get me to prove it. I only let them get as far as getting me out of my pants, though.” he said this simply and factually, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do at a high school party. Well, maybe it was after all, thought Tyler. He’d certainly seen his share of bizarre, semi-sexual hi-jinx at parties in years past.

 

“So can you?” Tyler asked.

 

“Maybe,” answered Nick, with an impish gleam in his eye; the first sign of a personality trait, other than quiet moping, that Tyler had seen from the younger boy. He rolled off Tyler’s lap without another word, and walked into the next room, presumably to put his pants back on, or to take his boxers off.

 

Amy returned a few minutes later, but without any food. “I’m getting a little tired, actually,” she said. “Do you want to head out?” Tyler didn’t mind the idea, since he wasn’t going to be drinking any more, and he wasn’t sure what to make of Nick. About the best word he could think of to describe his feeling was ‘intrigued’.

 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

As they walked out the front door and stepped down off of the porch, they heard a quiet voice from behind them say, “Hey.” They turned to find Nick walking up behind them, with one hundred percent more pants on than before, but still no shirt. His nipples were scrunched up in the chilly October air, but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all. “Leaving already?” he said, back to his deadpan tone.

 

“Yeah, ‘fraid so,” said Tyler. “Need a ride?”

 

“No thanks, but…” he paused, “you in town tomorrow?”

 

“Yup, all weekend.”

 

Nick shuffled his feet a little, looking at them. “Do you want to hang out tomorrow?”

 

Tylerwas completely taken by surprise, but he tried to hide it the best he could, not wanting to offend Nick. He was pretty sure he succeeded, since Nick was making an extensive study of his shoelaces instead of maintaining eye contact, so the only sign was the rather pregnant pause before Tyler gathered his wits and replied, “Uh, sure?”

 

“Cool, here’s my cell number,” said Nick, shoving a scrap of paper into Tyler’s hand before turning and quickly, but quietly, disappearing back into the house. He looked over at Amy with a baffled look, but Amy just smirked, walked over to the car, and got in.

 

Opening the driver’s door and seating himself, Tyler looked over at Amy. “Does Nick know I’m gay?” It wasn’t a state secret, but as far as Ty knew, it was really only Eden, Drew, Amy, and his parents that knew ‘officially’.

 

“If he does, he didn’t hear it from me.”

 

 

Tylercouldn’t move his hands. His head was reeling, his ears were ringing, and he wondered if he’d be able to slip the tightly-tied hemp rope off his hands if he managed to get some of the blood running out of his nose to fall down onto his hands, making them slick. He didn’t have time to try before a black-gloved hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back again. Three heads, covered in leering rubber monster masks leaned in close.

 

“You little faggot, you’re gonna rot here forever. Everyone knows, and nobody is gonna miss you if you just disappear. You think everyone didn’t see you checkin’ out the other guy’s cocks in the gym locker room? You think everyone doesn’t see your little fairy ass swishing down the hall? Well, Hell’s got a special place for queerbait like you!” he heard snickers all around.

 

The hand let go of his hair, and he thought he was getting a breather for a second. He didn’t look up, and maybe that was a good thing, because he never saw the next blow coming. A brutal hook to the right side of his head sent it spinning around and it whacked up against the cold, cold granite headstone he was tied to.

 

He started to speak, but pain knifed through his jawbone and he whimpered pathetically instead, hoping it wasn’t broken. He had started to ask what they were going to do to him, the words springing to his lips unbidden; he knew that showing weakness or fear would only urge them on. As it turned out, he didn’t have to ask, because they were only too eager to tell him.

 

“Know whose grave you’re sitting on? It’s old man Fowler’s. They say he was a kid-toucher of the first rank… who knows how many fucking kids he groped in all those years as a school janitor. Well, we heard if we leave him a little gift of a pretty fag-boy like you here on Halloween night, he’ll come up and drag your ass back down to his grave, to be his toy for all of fucking eternity. And that would be just good fucking riddance for you, wouldn’t it?”

 

With that, he wound up for a final swing right at Tyler’s gut, right below where his hands were tied up against his chest. Just as the strike came, which he knew would have him coughing up blood…

 

Tylerwoke from his sleep with a yelp, sitting bolt upright in his bed, reaching out into the dark and finding nothing within reach. Dropping his hands, he found the warm, uncomfortably damp sheets and gripped them tightly. Bringing his knees up to his face, he sat huddled, disoriented, and shaking for several moments before he remembered where he was. That nightmare was the most horrifyingly shocking dream he could remember having in his nineteen years on this earth.

 

Except, he realized slowly, that he’d dreamed those horrors before.

 

It wasn’t the first time that those cuts, those bruises, the grinding of joints, the wrenching of muscles had haunted his slumber. And before the nightmares, it had been real. How on earth could he have forgotten? Did his parents know? Or Drew and Eden? He must have been a mess, and taken a month to heal, so they must have known. How could they have let him forget?

 

Tylerslept through the few hours left of the night and woke up late on Saturday morning; late for the Kloeden house, anyway. At six a.m., his mom was up and working in the garden, buttoning everything up before the first hard frost. His father was trying to hang a second garage door on the new barn he had just finished building, but that turned out to be a two-man job, so Tyler was soon pressed into service. He didn’t put up a struggle because truthfully, he enjoyed coming home and even more, he enjoyed helping the parents who had given him so much. He also liked working with his hands; his dad had taught him early on that there were few things more rewarding than building or fixing something with your own two hands, and admiring your work afterwards. Pausing to ponder, he realized just how much his father had given him over the years by teaching and leading through example; how to work, how to play; how to respect people, how to respect himself; how to fight, and when to walk away.

 

But Tyler’s mind kept drifting back to last night and those horrible memories. He was obviously distracted and his father could see it clearly, but he held his tongue, to Tyler’s relief. How could he even begin that conversation, trying to fill in the huge gaps in his memory about that night in the graveyard and the aftermath? They finished the door in record time, but since they were already out in the crisp October air and already dirty, they just kept working; they started cleaning up the construction debris around the new building, insulated the window frames, and set up the new gas heater. Soon it was noontime, and Mrs. Kloeden was ringing the ‘dinner bell’ that she had jokingly mounted at the back door years and years ago, to call the children in.

 

Mr. Kloeden fired up the stove and heated up a cast-iron skillet, grilling up some tuna melt sandwiches for the three of them. The ultimate in comfort food to Tyler, these sandwiches almost embodied everything that was ‘home’ to him. The smell of butter melting on the griddle, and then browning the bread to just the right color and doneness, mingled with the smell of melting Swiss cheese that flowed just a little bit over the edge of the bread to crisp up on the hot pan and add its’ own aroma to the air. He had been eating them for years, right here at this table with his parents. He nearly drooled on his lap as his dad slid the plate with his sandwich across the table to stop in front of him.

 

About four bites into the sandwich, Tyler began to wonder about all of those happy sandwich-loving memories, and if they were real. Did he have just as many bad memories of lunch with his parents, but he had somehow blocked them out too? His mouth dried out at the thought, and the sandwich had gone from tasty treat to sawdust in an instant. Avoiding his parents’ gaze, he choked it down anyway. He loved them more than anything, and it killed him to hide things from them, but he couldn’t imagine their reaction to him bringing up the graveyard beating.

 

The silence grew awkward, and Mrs. Kloeden broke it first. “Ty, do you mind picking up some candy for the trick-or-treaters tonight?”

 

“Yeah, mom, no problem. I was going to head out anyway.”

 

He trotted down the hall to his old room to change his shirt and get his jacket, keys, and cell phone, pausing for a second before picking up the scrap of paper lying next to some loose change and some pocket lint. Unfolding it, he recognized it as the phone number Nick had given him the night before. He had completely forgotten that Nick had wanted to hang out today, but it was barely one o’clock; Nick could very well still be in bed. He flipped open his cell phone and tapped in the number.

 

Two rings passed before a tired-sounding voice answered, “Hullo?”

 

“Nick? It’s Tyler.”

 

“Oh! Hey, sorry, give me a sec.” He heard the sound of shifting fabric, maybe sheets or clothes, a few steps, then some running water and a splash or two. “Okay, I’m a little more awake now. What’s up?”

 

“Not much, but you said you wanted to hang out today so I figured I should give you a call and see what you were doing. You still want to do something?”

 

“Yah,” he said, stifling a yawn, “do you mind picking me up?”

 

“No, that’s cool, but I don’t know where you live.”

 

“That’s not a problem, because I’m not at home. Give me a few minutes to figure out whose house this is. I’ll call you right back.” He heard the call end with a click. Damn, this kid goes home with someone and can’t remember who in the morning? Shrugging, he walked back through the kitchen, gave his parents a quick hug, and walked out the side door of the house to where his car was parked. It started with a flick of the key, and as he popped it into first gear and pulled to the end of the driveway, his phone rang again. It was Nick.

 

“It was Terry’s house. Never slept on her floor before…but don’t pick me up there, I’m going to walk to the 7-11 on Porter Street and get a coffee. Can you meet me there?”

 

“Yep, I’ll be there in ten. Do you mind running an errand with me? I need to pick up Halloween candy for my parents. It should just take a few minutes,” Tyler paused, hoping that his request didn’t make him sound like too much of a mama’s boy.

 

“Aww, aren’t you the good son,” Nick replied teasingly. “Yeah, whatever you wanna do, I don’t have anywhere I have to be today. So, I’ll see you in a few.” The call ended, giving Ty the impression that Nick either didn’t like long phone calls, or was low on cell minutes.

 

He was waiting on the curb outside the convenience store when Tyler pulled up, and he had a plastic bag in his hand. Nick handed him the bag as he planted his blue-jean-clad butt in the passenger seat, which he opened to find a healthy, or rather extremely unhealthy selection of holiday candy. Six bags in all, the collection even included a bag of Frank’s Chocolate-Coated Peanut Butter Bombs, his dad’s favorite. He looked up at Nick with a questioning look, to which he replied, “I thought I’d save you a little time so we can get on to more fun things.”

 

“Works for me, let’s drop this off and get on to those…fun things.”

 

A few minutes later, he was running up the side stairs into the house to deliver the candy. Nick waited in the still-running car in the driveway. “That was quick,” Tyler’s dad said as he set the candy bag down on the kitchen counter.

 

“Who’s out there in your car Ty?” asked his mom, peering out the window.

 

“That’s Nick, we’re hanging out today. I’ll call you later to let you know if I’ll be home for dinner, okay?”

 

“Okay, but be careful, he looks like a cute one. Don’t go getting him pregnant, you’re too young to take care of a child, you know…” his mom said with an absolutely evil grin.

 

Tyler’s dad chuckled from his seat at the table. Tyler fled, his ears turning a deep shade of crimson.

 

Downshifting and accelerating through the turn, his stomach shifted back and he was gently pressed into his seat as the car sped on. Tyler had loved to drive Bay Road, with its long rolls and winding corners from the first day he had earned his license and today, those gentle thrills were heightened by the almost giddy feeling he got from driving next to this boy who was starting to show some clear interest in him. It seemed very odd to Tyler how Nick could switch from impishly confident to meek and almost skittish in just a few moments, but that’s exactly what he did; Nick rested his hand on Tyler’s knee as they sped away from the Kloeden house, only to draw it back quickly and sink down into his seat just a little as they passed through the center of town. He didn’t ask why; they’d only just met, and though it was obvious that Nick felt pretty comfortable in Tyler’s company, he wasn’t about to start prying.

 

Minutes before, when asked where he wanted to go, Nick just shrugged and smirked, a look that said that he didn’t care where he was, as long as he was in the right company. Left with the decision, Ty fell back on old habits and picked his default haunt from high school days past; Franklin Park. He had spent many an afternoon, and many a night, perched high atop the boulder in the park’s center, sweet-talking lovers, commiserating with friends, and soul-sharing with Amy; now, it seemed like a decent zero-dollar-fun place to hang out and get to know Nick better.

 

The day had warmed up appreciably, and Tyler lowered the power windows to let the mild air whip in to tease their hair. They were cruising along at a good twenty miles per hour over the limit, but it was just too good a feeling to ruin it by slowing down. The wooded back road soon thinned out to reveal manicured lawns and pillar-fronted luxury homes, grass like green paper pinned to the earth by giant paperweights, mansions by day that no doubt appeared as huge mausoleums by night. It was an enviable neighborhood, but the park just ahead would be lost on the homeowners nearby. Who needed a plain park, when they had acres of rolling green all to themselves, never needing to leave the yard?

 

They left the car on the street against a section of chain-link fence marking the eastern edge of the park and headed in. Tyler would have been content to wander around the nearly-empty space and dig through the memories drifting through his mind, but Nick marched right up to the boulder in the center and started to climb. Shrugging, he followed behind and soon found himself sitting cross-legged, opposite his companion and seven or eight feet off the ground, a position that offered a strange combination of exposure to everyone in the park, but also privacy.

 

Nick had been quiet for several minutes, occasionally looking up to the sky, mouthing words silently to himself, or gesturing with a hand or finger. Several minutes passed before Ty’s curiosity nudged him into asking.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I’m writing,” Nick replied, cryptically. Tyler didn’t think that was much of an explanation, but he accepted it as truthful, at least, when Nick pulled out a pocket notepad and pen and began scratching out word after word.

 

“What are you writing about?”

 

“You,” Nick answered, without stopping, the pen tip whispering the words aloud as it laid them down in ink, and several moments later, he tore off one of the small sheets of paper and handed it over. He had scrawled out a poem, which read:

 

Are you the needle or the thread?

Are you running forth in flash and glory,

Catching all eyes? Drinking the praise?

Do you trail as a silent whisper,

The sanity that binds in quiet fortitude

 

Are you the needle or the thread?

Do you have what it takes to open the flesh,

Wounding to heal? Ripping to mend?

Do you follow behind to right the needed wrong,

And give of yourself so another may live?

 

Are you the needle or the thread?

Do you take what you’d have from your suppliant hordes,

Knowing you are the chosen, that you must be fed

Do you give of yourself freely, without pause

The selfless angel always, always.

 

“Wow,” was all Tyler could muster by way of response, before reading it again. “I don’t think anyone has ever written me a poem before.” He pondered the words for a time. “It’s lyrical. It’s almost like it should be set to music maybe. I love it.”

 

Nick beamed. “Thanks – but it was just a quick one. I could probably do better with more time…”

 

“No, it’s just right – spontaneous.”

 

And as the afternoon passed, the sun slid across the daytime sky and the last of the autumn leaves tired of their desperate struggle to maintain their fingertip hold on their tree-branch homes, and the two young men shared with each other just a taste of their souls.

 

Dinner was fast food back in town, because it was cheap, easy, and convenient, but it settled like lead in their stomachs. Nick suggested leaving the car in the lot and walking around town for a while as dusk approached, burning off a bit of the meal and enjoying what remained of the day’s mild weather. They strolled past drug stores, pizza joints, and oil-change shops and continued their effortless talk of all things teenage and male and every so often, Tyler would drift over and ‘accidentally’ brush arms with Nick, for just the subtlest of body contact. The light faded further and streetlamps soon flared as they rounded a corner and headed towards the school, doors locked and lights snuffed, save for a few security lamps that never went out.

 

Tylerrealized that a few hundred yards farther ahead was the the graveyard, the scene of his assault four years ago which seemed both a moment or an eternity in the past. He didn’t relish the idea of walking near, even though he knew it was silly to worry; but his heart lodged in his throat just a bit when Nick suggested a new hangout.

 

“Let’s go sit in the graveyard for a bit. It’s so peaceful, and don’t you think it’s appropriate, on Halloween?”

 

“Umm, okay,” he waffled, but then steeled himself and pushed down his fear. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he wouldn’t let phantoms and memories ruin this time with Nick. “Yeah, let’s go.”

 

The graveyard was old, as old as the town, which dated back to the late seventeenth century. Newer grave markers stood in neat formation by the road, but row after row lay like striations in an archaeological dig, traveling further back in time as they delved deeper. They saw granite and marble, sandstone, and finally slate for the oldest markers. It was too dark to read the inscriptions, but Nick tried a few times anyway.

 

“I gotta take a leak, man,” said Tyler.

 

“Yeah, me too. Let’s not go on someone’s resting place, though…” he said stepping over towards some trees, away from the stones, before reaching down to open his fly.

 

Tylerwalked a few steps past Nick and faced slightly away before unzipping and pulling out his dick. He let out a breath and tried to relax to start his stream, but he had always been a shy pisser and was having trouble with an audience. Chuckling, he muttered, “stage fright…” over his shoulder and Nick giggled at his predicament. He stuck his fingers in his ears and hummed to himself for a moment, pretending he was somewhere else, until finally a few drips came out which grew into a full stream. He pulled his fingers out of his ears and heard voices that made his chest constrict painfully in fear.

 

“What do we have here? A little fag boy?”

 

Tyler’s hands, already slightly numb from the chilly night air, turned to ice and a cold sweat broke out across his brow. Shuddering in fear, he slowly turned to see who was speaking in that same muffled, gravelly voice that had lain buried in his memories until returning to haunt him last night. He saw the same three figures clad in black robes and gloves but they weren’t speaking to him – they were a few dozen yards away and speaking at someone whom Tyler couldn’t see because of the thick evergreen branches blocking his view. He nearly crumpled to the ground to stay out of sight as those awful memories threatened to drown him once again and his breaths shortened to pathetic little puffs. Maybe if I curl up here and don’t make a sound, he thought, they won’t find me again…

 

Then he realized that Nick might not realize the danger of the situation. Forcing himself to uncurl slightly, he looked behind him to where Nick should have been standing, but there was no one there.

 

Oh dear god, he thought as he realized who they must be talking to. Staying close to the ground, he half-crawled, half-slid through the fog-damp grass to see around the tree, while praying to any listening spirit to please, please let him be wrong.

 

But he wasn’t wrong. Nick was backed up against a tall limestone monument with the three masked figures moving in slowly, ready to pounce and blocking his escape. Dwarfed by the much taller figures and the grave marker, Nick appeared as a frightened child might. His sullen demeanor, sharp wit, and devil-may-care attitude couldn’t help him now, for in the face of true physical harm, those defenses were useless and in desperation and fear, he looked over to the trees where Tyler crouched, hidden, with an unspoken plea for help.

 

The ice in Tyler’s limbs shattered as hot liquid anger set fire to his veins. He was no longer the victim here, not the one to be threatened and beaten in a Halloween prank gone too far because now it was his friend who was threatened. Tyler wasn’t really sure why he had repressed those memories for the last four years but they puffed away like so much smoke in a breeze along with the paralyzing terror that held him back behind the evergreen tree, gone back to their hiding place until this grim business was finished. This was the culmination of purpose for Tyler at this point in time; the loyalty taught to him by his mother, the brawling skills from his father, and the compassion he learned from them both fed his actions now, as if he were born for this moment.

 

He pushed himself off the grass and rose from a crouch to his full height, not bothering to conceal himself any longer, both because he didn’t care if they saw him coming, and because he wanted their attention on him instead of Nick. He shoved aside the branch in front of him with a loud snap, causing all three masked heads to swivel towards him. He took one, two, three, four, five angry, fearless, bold strides right up to the closest of the three who probably had a look of confusion on his face under that rubber mask, but any questions as to Tyler’s intent were soon wordlessly answered. Quick as hate, he rolled his right shoulder and arm back, and swung his fist forward with the full force of his torso behind it, just as his Dad had taught him, and when he connected right between his first victim’s eyes, the robed figure melted backwards into an unconscious heap.

 

The body fell, as if liquid time had thickened to slow all physical motion, and the sound of his head striking the cold, hard earth echoed like a funeral drum. The silence of the assailant’s shock lasted for three or four seconds at most, but felt like minutes as Tyler, furious to the point of being silently calm, stood and waited for them to make their move. They clearly did not expect any resistance from their chosen ‘easy target’ but they rose to the occasion, fueled by adrenaline and the cowardly knowledge that they outnumbered him two to one. The clumsy, flailing punches began, and he was prepared. Maneuvering to keep them both within his line of sight, he easily dodged the slow swings by ducking and leaning. Wear them down, his father’s voice said from the back of his mind, your opponent uses twice as much energy when they swing and miss because they have to recover. Waiting, stepping, dodging, and letting them do his work for him, he knew he could halfway win this fight simply by staying calm and staying out of the way.

 

And then, it was his turn. Standing still to give the shorter robed figure an opening, he waited for a sloppy, over-extended swing that left the enemy off-balance. Stepping in, he dealt a hard blow to the gut, causing him to retch and double over. He then cut across and down with his fist in a vicious strike to the side of the head – a move that Tyler knew would hurt later when the adrenaline wore off and he was left with split knuckles from punching bone. But at that moment, the satisfying hollow thud and crack of his fist connecting with skull was exactly what he wanted to hear. The attacker-turned-victim dropped.

 

One remained, the largest, the most imposing, but Tyler felt no fear; he looked up into the eyes behind the mask and dared him to attack.

 

“Come on, you fucking thug. You want to beat down a little fag boy? Take a swing at me. You get one shot for free.”

 

There was no hesitation; the larger man jumped forward and threw a low, hard swing right at Tyler’s stomach, but Tyler was ready and had braced for it. With his abs tightly clenched, it did little harm; it hurt, to be sure, but learning to take the pain was part of learning to fight, and he knew how to simply shrug it off. His opponent must have expected the blow to have a greater effect, because he just stood there watching as Ty quickly straightened and threw three lightning jabs to the black-cloaked gut in front of him. As the taller man groaned in pain, Tyler stepped to the side and landed a swift downward kick to the side of his knee, buckling it with a wet crunch. A pathetic whimper leaked out from behind the mask as he fell half-sideways against a headstone.

 

He knelt in front of the fallen man.

 

“I would tell you to get the fuck out of here, run off and tell all your pathetic bully friends that you got the ever-loving SHIT beaten out of you by a little fag tonight, but it doesn’t look like you guys are going anywhere, since they’re out cold and you have a fucked knee. So, I’m going to let you sit here in misery for a little while before I call 911 and tell them the story. So fuck you.”

 

He reached out with one hand to grab the top of the fright-masked head and gave it a quick shove back to crack against the headstone. With one last groan, his foe passed out from the pain.

 

Looking around, he spotted Nick over next to the tall obelisk-like monument, gaping at him. He wanted to go and check that Nick was safe, but he just needed a minute… to catch his breath… sitting on a short marble gravestone, he looked down at his hands, his cut knuckles that trickled blood down between his fingers, and then, slowly, the full measure and weight of what he had just done came crashing down in one emotional deluge. His eyes filled slowly, and as the first few tears leaked down to roll off of his upper lip and splatter on the backs of his bloody hands, he rocked gently back and forth and let out a few gentle sobs.

 

Is this what I am now, he asked himself miserably, violent and vengeful?

 

From behind, gentle fingers rested on his shoulders, and pulled him softly back into an embrace. “Shhh now,” Nick said, “it’s over.”

 

“But… I… aww fuck…” Tyler stumbled, “I can’t believe I did that! And I was so scared, this was just like before, and… Jesus, I’m so fucking ANGRY and…”

 

“Hey, hey, easy there, try to calm down.”

 

“But…”

 

Nick gently placed three fingers over Ty’s mouth to silence him. Walking around to face him, he took Tyler’s right hand in his own, gestured for him to stand, and slowly led him along the row of stones, up and around the side of a low hill that a mausoleum had been set into. Stepping carefully across the old stone roof, they sat on the edge with their feet hanging down. Eight or nine feet above ground level, their perch afforded them a panoramic view of the morbid garden below.

 

Nick hooked a finger under Tyler’s chin, turning his head to face him. “Thank you for rescuing me. Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before.”

 

He slowly leaned forward and tilted his head to the side while gently easing Ty’s chin forward to bring his lips closer. Tyler felt the smallest sigh of air escape from Nick’s mouth before they met, tentatively, in a first kiss that was as light as the cool autumn evening breeze, but heavy with mixed emotion and tasting of salty tears. Pulling back, Tyler searched Nick’s eyes for a sign and found…hunger? With that same impish smirk, Nick gently pushed Tyler onto his back and climbed up over him, and with a chuckle, leaned down for a much, much less tentative kiss.

  

 

 

© 2006 Dezlboi

 

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