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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. 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.
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.
Broken - 15. Dissonance
span>Abuse warning! This chapter has an account of a very ugly incident.
I don't know what came over me. I was numb. I was furious. I wasn't thinking right.
I couldn't be lost. I never got lost. The whole damned county wasn't big enough to get lost.
It wasn't too cold and my pace kept me warm. My pace and the anger that was boiling inside me had me burning pure adrenaline.
Until Mrs. Turner's outburst, I had not really understood the true dimensions of Rainer's sick assed attack on us. Sure, I had heard from Brian what they thought that Doug had done, but me? They thought that I had done something to Nick!? The thought twisted and wracked my stomach. I had to puke.
It had been seven months- a little over half a year. Every week some dumbass cunt with a mail order counseling degree who wouldn't know or acknowledge the truth if it crawled up and bit her on the ass had Nick in her office for $125 dollars an hour. She would then basically tell him that he was lying for an hour.
God damn it!
The temptation to just to tell her what she wanted to hear must be enormous. What would I do if I were in that situation? I thought about Nick sitting there with some witch trying to twist and distort his words. The feeling that Nick must have for us went far beyond loyalty. He was basically being psychologically tortured and he wouldn't give us up. How ironic that it would turn out that sweet little Nick would be the toughest son of a bitch that I had ever known.
I was unaware that tears were rolling down my face. I couldn't help it. I wasn't really crying. Not the whole body sobbing kind of crying. I hurt and it wouldn't go away. I was tired of this feeling and the way it came over me sometimes.
I wanted to get high. I wanted this feeling to go away. I wanted to be shit-faced and stupid so I couldn't feel anything. I started heading for the fort. We had a little stash there. It was a good six miles but I didn't care.
I was vaguely aware of cars passing by. Occasionally a few would slow as they went by. A carload of upperclassmen from school drove by and two or three poorly aimed beer cans sailed over my head. I heard some jeering comments but I couldn't make out what they were saying.
Dumbasses. Wasting good beer like that.
Abomination. I hated that word. I was raised a “cradle Christian” in the Baptist church so it really stung. When the issue of homosexuality was raised with my parents, their reaction to it was predictable given who they are. They didn't want anybody to know. They were ashamed of me. They didn't send me to a shrink or a counselor. They just told me that I couldn't be a fag so snap the hell out of it.
I couldn't carry the shit around alone. I looked for information in the library at first but all I could find were contradictions. There just weren't any books about being gay. There were only books that had a few pages about homosexuality that you had to find in the index. The topic was covered in clinical terms like the completely dispassionate discussion of some species of beetle.
I went to a church in my neighborhood that wasn't my regular church. They had open gym in the afternoons. After a few visits I decided that I liked their youth minister. One afternoon I came by when nobody else was around and talked to him about homosexuality. He made it clear that homosexuality was a “chosen behavior” that was incompatible with Christianity. If I just prayed about it, those nasty feeling would go away. All that I had to do was to choose to be straight just like my dumb ass counselor at school said. He seemed to know all six of the bible verses that condemned me to eternal damnation by heart. He said that with faith and Christ all things are possible.
So I prayed about it. I prayed real hard and read the bible. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, I still loved Scotty. I could deny it to my parents. I could deny it to my friends. But I couldn't deny it to myself. He was in my dreams. Whenever my thoughts would wander, they would wander to Scotty. Whenever I would see something beautiful, it reminded me of his face.
The rumors that were going around about me had filtered into my church. The kids there that I had known for years weren't really cruel to me but they started shutting me out of things. I stopped getting asked to birthday parties and movies and all of the social stuff. Nobody was really blatantly mean to me but it hurt me more than I cared to admit.
I would lie awake at night feeling guilty because I couldn't get those feelings out of my head. In truth, it didn't make sense. I knew how I was with Scotty. It wasn't really about sex with us. Sex was just the icing on the cake. How was I supposed to be damned for loving somebody?
“Hey kid!” A voice jarred me out of my walking trance. I looked beside me to see a man driving a Chevy work truck pacing my march. It had a jumble of tools on the back and a sign on the side that advertised 24 hour plumbing services. “You need a ride?” I didn't know exactly who he was but I had seen him around. He wasn't a complete stranger.
I asked, “You going up to Oak Hill Road?”
“Sure, come on.”
I got into the truck and slammed the door. It was pretty nice but cluttered. Some twangy country song was playing on the radio and there was a deer rifle and a shotgun in the gun rack.
“Mister, I've seen you around but I can't place you....”
He laughed and said, “Yup, I've seen you play football. My nephews played with you last fall. You're turning into quite the linebacker.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Something was familiar about him. I couldn't put a finger on it. Something was making me twitchy about this guy. Having a stranger know you is disquieting.
He drove up the road and took a right toward Oak Hills Road. So far so good.
The man said, “I need to make a quick stop at Pecan Acres but it's on the way.”
“Pecan Acres? Where's that?”
He pointed ahead and turned off the road. Pecan Acres was a new subdivision under construction. The road was brand new and the houses were in various stages of construction. He pulled up at one of them and parked.
He said, “You mind giving me a hand putting this water heater inside?”
“Sure.”
The two of us got out and went around to the back of the truck. A standard residential 40-gallon water heater still boxed up in cardboard was lying in the back of the truck. A man could easily handle it with a dolly but its bulk made it a much easier job for two. The two of us easily carried the crate into the house.
When we got it inside, he said, “You're a seventh grader aren't you?”
I replied, “Yes sir.”
“How old are you?”
“I'm 13.”
He whistled and said, “You're a big `um for 13.”
I smiled.
“How would you like to work as a plumber's helper this summer?”
I hadn't really though about getting a real job. Having regular money would be really nice. “I'd have to check with my parents and work around school and football but I'd like that.”
The plumber slapped my arm and said, “I usually wouldn't take on an assistant your age but by the look of it, I think you can handle it. The company pays a plumbers helper seven fifty an hour.” Seven fifty an hour was well above the “fast food” minimum that I could expect to make if I started working at the mall.
“Thanks”, I said. “I think I would like that a lot Mister?”
“You can call me Pete.”
Suddenly it all came into focus. That voice on the telephone. My emotions must have betrayed me.
He said, “You don't have to be afraid. I won't hurt you.
I wanted to back away but he had me cornered in the crowded utility room.
He said kindly, “Are they still giving you trouble at school?”
My voice shaking, I replied, “I.. I don't want to talk about it.”
Pete said, “It's a shame that it all got out. I know how people can be but there's really nothing to be ashamed about. You're a really good looking kid.”
Suddenly he pulled me towards him and went to kiss me on me lips but I turned and he kissed my cheek and groping my crotch with his free hand. It grossed me out to have this guy slobbering on me.
I struggled to get free of him but he was far too strong. He started getting angry.
“What's the matter, your gay.”
“I don't know you.”
“So what?” he replied with a cruel sneer.
I struggled to free myself and said forcefully, “I don't know you!”
Slap. My face stung and the force of his blow knocked me into the wall. “You little bitches are all the same. I give you friendship, offer you a job but you don't want to give me anything in return. OK bitch. I'll take what I want.” He pulled a fierce looking buck knife that glittered menacingly in his hand. “Get on your fucking knees, bitch.”
I froze. He unzipped his fly and grabbed me by the hair. God damnit I hate when people grab me by the hair!
With one hand full of hair and the knife at my neck, he forced himself upon me.
I went away. I didn't want to be there. I was unaware of the choking and gagging. I didn't feel anything. I went far away. It was as if my body was vacant.
When he was finished, he just left not saying anything.
I sat there staring at the wall. I don't know how long. I was still gone.
My body was on autopilot. Somehow I made it to the fort just a little after sundown.
Brian was there. He asked me what was wrong. I couldn't talk. I was shaking. He could tell that something really fucked up had happened. He rolled a joint. My hands were shaking too bad to handle it. He had to hold it up to my mouth so I could hit it at all.
When we finished, Brian said, “You talk about it when you're ready.”
He put his arms around me. It startled me at first but it was safe. Brian was safe. I collapsed in silent sobs and he held and wouldn't let me go.
Abuse warning! This chapter has an account of a very ugly incident.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. 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.
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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