The Harlequin - 11. Chapter 11

Patrick slowly climbed the stairs, tasting his lip after coming in contact with Adam’s cheek. His body reacted from his fall from the tree sore in his shoulder, legs and right hip. Even though there was grass below, the impact on the cold ground sent waves of pain throughout his slim body.

He remembered when his back was press against Adam’s firm torso he felt no pain at all. Adam Potter’s was in excellent shape. When he had his arms around the waist and saved him from getting hit by a car. Patrick knew he wanted to touch or be touched by Adam again. So he found a reason. A thank you kiss on the cheek to the man that came to his rescue. In any normal situation Adam wouldn’t have to work hard in getting Patrick into bed with him.

But this wasn’t normal. It was time he’d faced his problems, like a man rather than have someone solve them for him as his father has done before. If what happened at the graveyard was all a joke then whatever Gavin had over his head ends tonight. He licked his dry lips as he entered the dark apartment. He switched on a light and the hundred watt bulb lit up the quiet hallway that was empty. All the floors were hardwood. The room to the left lead him to the living room that held retro furniture, a TV mounted on the wall, a vending machine and access to the kitchen that displayed appliances from the fifties that Gavin never touched. They were only for show he was told.

Leftovers from restaurants were kept in the fridge alongside bottles of expensive beer and wine. Patrick hated Gavin’s taste in beer and preferred wine himself, which Gavin loathed. To keep the peace he purchased name brand drinks for them.

Patrick removed a bottle of red wine popping the cork. He didn’t want to drink from the mug Gavin always gave him, instead he drank from the bottle, swallowing the sweet, red grape until he needed to catch his breath. He carried the bottle out another exit through the kitchen that lead back to the hallway and headed for the guest bedroom.

The door had a metal radioactive sign, warning to stay away. Patrick entered the room that was empty except, for an unmade full size bed with a small, unfinished table beside it. He sat the chilled wine on the table and turned to a small closet. He opened the door, inside was empty with the exception of three wire hangers. He removed them from the bar tossing them on the unmade mattress behind him. He grasped the bar flinching from a sharp pain from his hand.

He stared at dried blood and a small cut in the middle of his palm. He’d forgot he injured it on the gate when he was trying to escape the killer. He remembered seeing band aids in the bathroom cabinet connected to Gavin’s bedroom, but that would have to wait for now.

With both hands, but not adding any pressure to his injured one, he pulled the bar apart revealing rolled photographs tucked inside. He removed them and placed under his chin as he reconnected the bar. He held the photos as he returned the hangers, shutting the closet door and grabbed the wine bottle leaving the room.

He returned to the kitchen, grabbed a box of mattress, off a small shelf above the empty sink, and a metal colander. He tossed the photos (he didn’t bother to look at) into the colander and lit a match kindling the edges of the pictures first and watched as the fire spread. He made sure every inch of images turned to ash before dousing them with water and rinsing them down the garbage disposal. He flipped the switch and listened until he was satisfied the blades did their job. He swallowed more of the red liquid before turning off the water leaving the colander and walking out of the kitchen.

When he reached Gavin’s bedroom door he hesitated. His hand hovered over the handle as he closed his eyes to all his fears.

‘Come on Patrick, do it fast. Get it over with,’ he said to himself, as he turned the knob and pushed opened the door. The room was dark and for a moment Patrick thought he saw a body lying on the bed. He rose the bottle to his lips and took one last long swallow before setting it down on the dresser. He reached for the light switch on the wall beside him and flicked it up, but nothing happened. Patrick ignored the lack of light and entered the room moving towards the bed. ‘The cops were right. It was a joke,” he thought as he started to make out that there was a body on the bed laying on his stomach.

“Gavin,” he said remembering everything that Gavin’s done to him and now finding out it was all a cruel joke. His thrill turned into anger as he rushed to the seeming sleeping man, climbing on the bed and shaking him to wake up. “Get up you bastard! What makes you think what you did was funny?”

But Gavin didn’t move. The dead silence surround him as fear gripped him again.

“Gavin wake up! Please tell me this was all a joke and just say you’re sorry,” he sobbed pulling the sheet away and finding it wasn’t a joke.

Gavin laid on his stomach, cold, naked and motionless. Patrick was able to see that the wound in his back was there, minus the knife, but there was no blood coming out. He saw Gavin’s head and neck rested crookedly.

Patrick’s body shook with fear as he sat frozen in place on the bed. But that was interrupted by a cell phone ringing. Patrick recognized the sound. He looked near Gavin’s lifeless hand to see the cell, which was face down, light flashing. He knew the cell was his because he knew the ring tone was the one he picked for Gavin in the beginning of their relationship when Gavin cared about cosplay. Or at least Patrick thought he did. Patrick never got around to changing it when everything turned to crap. He reached for it and turned it over. There was Pikachu, a popular card game anime character staring back at him with rosy cheeks and his one paw in the air. He knew who it was as he pressed the green phone handle on the screen and raised it to his ear.

“It’s done. Now you and I can be together,” said a raspy voice.

Patrick lowered the phone still looking at his dead friend. Then noticed the light getting brighter. Patrick slowly looked back towards the connected bathroom and watched the harlequin stepped into the room. His ghostly mask displayed with a calm expression and a single tear stationed under one hollowed eye.

Patrick gathered his senses, as he scrambled off the bed trying to exit the room. But the Harlequin had other ideas as he grabbed hold of Patrick’s right arm and yanked him back. Patrick flinched from the pain in his shoulder when his leg was kicked out from under him forcing him back onto the bed face down. The figure fell on top of him, and Patrick got a taste of how strong he was.

The Harlequin grasped Patrick’s wrists and forced them behind his back pinning them with his chest. Unable to move his arms Patrick called for help but that didn’t seem to bother his attacker as Patrick felt his pants being unbutton. Patrick realized he was about to get raped.

“No—please,” he begged with his chest constricting from the pressure of his attacker pushing against his back and pressing him against the mattress. “Not here…not next to him!” Even with the sobs in his voice the Harlequin ignored him as he forced Patrick’s jeans and underwear down his hips exposing him.

Patrick thrashed around trying to free at least one of his arm to defend himself. But that only sent sharp pain through his shoulders. Their bodies rocked the mattress causing Gavin’s body to move as well. Patrick kept calling for help as he felt the man’s hand struggle to open his own pants. Now Patrick was sure it was a man feeling his erection against his thigh.

“Stop,” he yelled as he knew it was pointless. He closed his eyes and waited for him to get it over with when a sudden crash came from the hallway.