Sorry it took so long to get this one out, I've been working on another story and got WAY to absorbed in it. It's called World Undone, so look for it in the Sci-fi/fantasy section, or email me for a link.
Well, here we go...
Disclaimer: The following story contains erotic situations between men. If it is illegal for you to read this, please leave now. Comments are welcome at firstname.lastname@example.org. Constructive criticisms or comments only, please. This work is entirely fictional and any resemblance to real people or events is purely circumstantial and unintentional. This work is also copyrighted by the author and any copying or redistribution without written permission from the author is illegal.
All that having been said, I hope you enjoy it :)
A few months went by and I was getting pretty good at finding my way around without anyone to help me. At home, I still let Brent lead me around sometimes because it made him feel better. I had made some friends in my class and everyone loved Brent. I could hear them talking sometimes when they thought I couldn't and they were always saying how much he loved me and how good he was for going through this with me. The teacher spent a lot of time with Brent, teaching him how to take care of me and how to behave around me. The other kids in my class didn't need so much supervision from her and they taught me a lot while she was busy with him. Brail was a little harder than I had thought, but I could already read simple sentences. The teacher said that I was progressing very quickly.
Brent's parents, Anne and Michael, were very kind and loving. They came over all the time, almost every day, and cooked for us and helped Brent clean or they would just sit with us and talk. I was very glad for the company, especially for Brent. He said that he didn't mind being with me all the time, but I knew he missed going out with his friends and spending time outside the house. They offered to take me to all my doctors appointments and to have my cast taken off, but Brent insisted on going. He said that it was important to both of us. My mother came over a lot also. She was always very kind and Brent said that she had even bought some new clothes and was wearing makeup. He said it made her look twenty years younger. Every time she came to see me she told me that my dad was busy or not feeling well but that he loved me and missed me. I knew it wasn't true, that it was just her way of making me feel good, but I didn't mind.
Living with Brent was a blessing. Not because I was blind, but because I loved him so much. He always spent time with me, reading to me or describing what was happening on the television. He went out one weekend with his father while his mother stayed with me. I was so happy when they had been gone for a few hours. I knew that he needed a break from me, even if he wouldn't say so. When they came back, there was a lot of laughing and banging around, but Brent told me not to touch anything that he had a surprise for me. It wasn't too long before he came to get me and led me to the spare bedroom. He walked me inside and sat me in a chair then took my hands and laid them on a table. I felt around and came to a circular piece of wood in the center of the table. I kept feeling and my fingers touched something cool and wet.
"It's clay," Brent said. "You were so good at sculpting in school that I thought you might enjoy doing it here."
Brent loved giving me presents, but this had to be the best of them so far. I hugged him and his parents, kissing each of them on the cheek. "Thank you all so much for everything you've done for me," I said. When his parents went home, I told Brent that he could go out if he wanted to and that I would be fine. I intended to use my new present to make something for him.
"I'm right where I want to be," he said. He hugged me tightly and kissed me. I didn't feel like so much of a burden when he said things like that to me. I knew that things had changed for him at school as well, even though he said they hadn't. He kept telling me that everyone was nice to him, but I had a feeling that they weren't as saintly as he claimed. I did hope that he wasn't having too much trouble, but I didn't know what I could do about it if he was.
Brent told me that he was going to watch television, though I knew he stood at the door for a few minutes and watched me. I felt my way around the room, counting steps and memorizing where I felt things just as I'd been taught to do. After a few minutes I had a pretty good idea where everything was and I sat down at my bench and started molding the big block of clay. I had been at it for a while when I heard a tap at the window. I could still hear the television going, but I hadn't heard Brent go outside. "Brent, are you still in here?"
I heard him come into the room and he said that he was here. I felt his hand on my shoulder and sighed a little. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"I thought I heard something outside the window," I said. "It was nothing. Probably just the bushes."
I heard rustling as Brent opened the blinds and looked outside. "There are no bushes near the window, baby," he said. "But there's nothing out there. It may be a stray cat or something." He closed the blinds again and said, "This is coming along pretty well." He was talking about my sculpture. It was supposed to be of him, but I didn't want him to know that right now. He bent down to kiss me and I snuck a feel of his face so I could finish the chin. He laughed because I'd gotten clay on him, then he went to the bathroom and cleaned up. He said that he was going to cook dinner and I begged him to let me help. Finally he said that I could and I washed my hands. He stood me at the sink and gave me some vegetables to wash. I felt of each one and tried to tell him what they were. He stood behind me with his arms around my waist and his face nuzzled against my neck. Every time I got one right I got two kisses, but only one for the ones I got wrong. The goose bumps he was giving me were motivation enough to get them right. With all of our playing, it was pretty late when we finally ate. We cleaned the dishes and took a shower before we got ready for bed.
During the night I heard noises from outside. I couldn't make any of them out and they weren't loud enough to wake Brent, so I tuned them out. Mrs. Watley had told me that my hearing would improve over time to compensate for my blindness, maybe even so well that I could differentiate people just by the sounds of their steps. After a while, the steady rhythm of Brent's breathing made me drowsy and I fell asleep.
I woke up before Brent the next morning and went to the bathroom. On the way through the hall, my toe touched something on the floor. It was moist and gritty. I figured that one of us had tracked in some mud from the yard. After brushing my teeth, I took a glass from the shelf, filled it with water and went back to wake him. He was not a morning person and was somewhat hard to wake up, but he sat up when I gently shook him and took the glass when I held it out to him. I could hear him guzzling the water, then he thanked me and sat the glass on the bedside table. "You're up early," he said.
"What time is it?"
"Six thirty in the morning," he said.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Go back to sleep."
"No, it's okay," he said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I had a lot of stuff I wanted to do today anyway. And my mother wants to take you shopping. She thinks you'll enjoy it."
I smiled at the thought of spending time with his parents. They both seemed to like me and I definitely liked them. "Will you help me pick out something to wear?" I asked.
He went to the closet and picked out a pair of jeans and sneakers and a Green Day t-shirt that he said he loved to see me in. I pulled them on and we went into the kitchen where he made us a bowl of cereal. We ate and talked for a while, then got up and did some things around the house while we waited on his mother. It occurred to me how mundane people would think we were if they watched us at home. We were approaching our second anniversary, had never fought, still talked every chance we got and enjoyed spending time with each other.
Brent's mother came in while I was daydreaming and gave us both a kiss on the cheek as she entered. A few minutes later, she and I were in the car on the way to the mall. I wasn't so sure I could handle it, but she said I would be fine. She reassured me that she would be there the whole time and that we would have fun. I trusted her, but I was secretly afraid of getting separated from her. Brent had gone out and gotten us both cell phones in case something should happen and I got in trouble. Before I left the house I had pulled it out of the table by the door and slipped it into my pocket while Brent and his mother were in the kitchen.
We spent a few hours in the mall walking from one store to the next. She took me to a book store and talked to the cashier for a minute before she came back to me carrying a stack of books. I felt of the covers of each one and was happy to find that they were written in brail. "Brent told me that he's trying to learn it, but he's not coming along as fast as you are. But he still likes reading to you, so these books are special. The books were originally printed in type, then they reprinted them on the same sheets with brail. You can both read these." I hugged her and thanked her for doing all that she'd done. We shopped for a while longer, then went back to the house to have lunch with Brent. We pulled up in the driveway and I could hear the lawnmower even over the radio. He shut it off as soon as he saw us and came over.
"You smell bad," I said playfully. He hugged me and I could feel that he had no shirt on and was dripping sweat. His mother yelped and laughed as he hugged her. We went inside and I helped make sandwiches while he went and cleaned up a little for lunch. He came in the kitchen and we sat at the table to eat.
"Your father came by to see you," Brent said as he took my hand.
Suddenly I felt a little sick to my stomach and my throat clenched up. "What did he want?"
"I don't know," Brent said. "He was acting a little weird. He said to tell you that daddy loves you."
Now I did feel sick. I choked down the rest of my sandwich and tried to pretend nothing was wrong, but I think they knew. When we were done, I went the bedroom that I'd converted into my studio and shut the door. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and sat down in a corner to call my mother. She answered sounding a little ragged. I was actually surprised at the sound of her voice since she had been much better lately, but she hadn`t been over in a few days. "What's going on?" I asked her.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, dad stopped by the house today and told Brent to tell me that daddy loves me," I said. "Since when has daddy ever loved me? And Brent said that he was acting very weird."
"I don't know what to tell you, Jon," she said. "I didn't want to worry you, but your father hasn't been home in over a week."
I was floored. I didn't know what to think or say and the phone had dropped from my hand. I had to feel around on the floor to find it again. "Where has he been?" I asked as I put the phone back to my ear.
"I don't know," she said. "He hasn't called and all his stuff is still here. I don't know where he's staying or what he's eating. All I know is that I went to work last week and when I came home, he wasn't here. To tell you the truth, I didn't really mind. It's been so much more peaceful around here with him gone."
"How did he find out where I live?" I asked.
"Well, I don't really know," she said. "I wrote the address down in my address book, but that stays in my purse." I heard her rummaging around trying to find the book, but after a minute she said, "It's not here. He must have took it thinking there was money in it or something."
"But I still don't understand why he would come over here," I said. "He's never liked me. He's never told me that he loved me and I've never called him daddy. This whole thing is just very weird." I heard Brent calling to me and I told my mother I had to go. I didn't want to upset them, so I laid the phone on the table and smeared my hands across the clay. I waited for a minute and the door opened and Brent came into the room. He hugged me and told me that something had come in the mail for me. He opened it and was quiet for a minute. "What is it?" I asked.
"It's pictures," he said. He was quiet for a second then said, "It's pictures of us sleeping." At first he sounded confused, then he quietly remembered, "Daddy loves you."
Just hearing him whisper it terrified me and sent shivers up my spine. "My mother said he hasn't been home in over a week," I said. "I just talked to her a few minutes ago."
"Where is he now?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. "He just left."
"Why didn't she tell us?" he asked.
"She didn't want to worry us."
"It's a bit late for that," he said. His voice sounded angry, but I knew he wasn't angry with me. He walked out of the room for a minute and came back on the phone with his father. He told him what was going on and asked him what we should do. After a few minutes he hung up the phone and said, "I'm going to pack us some clothes and we're going to go and stay at my parent's house until this is taken care of. You stay here and I'll be back in a few minutes. I'll just be in the other room." I could tell he was worried about me and I nodded my head. He hugged me, then I heard him go to the bedroom and start going through the closet. After a few minutes, he came back and took me by the hand.
It was only a few blocks to his parent's house from ours, so we walked. He explained that it would also make my father think we were at home if the car was in the driveway. When we got to his parent's house, they were waiting on the steps for us, Brent's father on the phone with the police. They took us inside and his mother took us upstairs.
"I know that stairs aren't exactly a good idea, Jon," she said as we climbed up. "But it's the only room we have. I'm going to tie a rope across the top of them to that you can feel it if you get too close." She was very kind and thoughtful. I could see why Brent loved them so much.
The house was quiet and smelled like flowers. I ran my hands over everything I could trying to see it. I imagined it was beautiful. Anne described things as we went, and from what she told me, it was beautiful. I told her that I wished I could see it and that I wished I could see her. She told me that I could see her and stopped to lift my hands to her face. I felt her features and tried to build a mental picture of her. I still wasn't very good at that, but from what I could tell, she was very pretty. Brent must have gotten his looks from her. Everyone told me that he looked more like his mother than his father. We put our things in Brent's old room and Anne said that dinner would be ready in a couple of hours. We were both a little hungry, and decided to take a nap before dinner. We lay down on the bed and curled up next to each other and drifted off to sleep.
Michael woke us a while later and said that dinner was almost ready and that a couple of officers had stopped by to take a statement from us. We walked down the stairs, Brent leading me by the hand and Michael holding my shoulder from behind to help me with my balance. It occurred to me that I had always taken certain things for granted when I could see and now those simple tasks were dangerous. That in itself was depressing enough without having to worry about my lunatic father breaking into my house in the middle of the night and taking pictures of me and my boyfriend sleeping.
The officers, a man and a woman, were kind to us even after learning of our situation. They were patient with me when they found out I was blind and were apologetic when they forgot and asked me to do something that would require sight. They took the pictures that had been mailed to me and put them in a plastic bag. They said that luckily they were glossy and they could probably pull some fingerprints off of them. Only Brent had touched them and his prints were on file, so they could filter his out. Everything was done in about fifteen minutes. I heard their pens click and their notebooks close, signaling the end of our inquest.
After the cops had left, we all sat down at the table and ate. It was wonderful and I could tell Brent was a little envious when he told Anne how much he liked it. I thought he was a good cook, though. We usually only had three dishes and a desert when he cooked though because he would burn something if he tried to make more than that. Thinking of how hard he was trying and what he was going through to protect me only made me love him more.
My mother came over a little while later. Brent and I were upstairs taking a shower and we heard them talking when we turned off the water. We went downstairs and I hugged her. I could tell she was crying and I tried to tell her that it wasn't anything she should cry over.
"I should have left him a long time ago," she said. "He just kept getting worse and worse. I knew that he was mean to you, but I didn't do anything to stop him because I was afraid to."
"It's okay," I said. "If the worst he's done is take some pictures of me and Brent sleeping, then no harm's done. It just freaked us out a little, is all."
"I don't really like the idea of anyone being in the house," Michael said. "For one, the door was locked. And even so, there's only so much you can do to protect Jon, Brent. I hate to point out the obvious, but he's blind. There would be nothing he could do to help other than call 911 and hope they get there fast enough."
"That's true," Brent said. "And the door was locked. I still don't know how he got in."
"The door was unlocked when I got there to pick Jon up," Anne said. "I didn't think anything of it because you were expecting me."
"Anyway, it doesn't really matter," Brent said. "It's over and done now. The police are going to go by the house and keep an eye on it for a couple of days. If he comes back, then they'll get him. It'll be better soon." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as the rest of us. Anne asked my mother if she would like to stay over and offered her some of her clothes. Mom agreed and we said that we would give her the bed and make a palette in the floor of the living room. It would be easier for me not to have to climb the stairs anyway.
Michael found a movie on the television and we all settled in on the couches and chairs in the living room to watch it. Brent and I had a couch to ourselves and I laid against his chest so that he could whisper in my ear what was happening. I was getting pretty good at following movies in my head, inserting images of the actors I'd seen before, scenery from other movies, explosions, the whole nine yards. It was almost more fun like this than it had been before. I kept my eyes closed the whole time, them being useless, so nobody noticed when I dozed off.
I started having nightmares of my father watching us. I could see him looking at us in the bed and threatening me. His imposing figure seemed to float toward the bed and hit me over and over with something I couldn't identify. I jolted awake screaming, but when Brent and the others tried to calm me I panicked because I couldn't see anything. It was a minute before I remembered where I was and who I was with. The fear started to fade and the yells were replaced with crying. Brent held me and smoothed my hair back, telling me that I was safe and that it was only a bad dream. After a while I fell back asleep and this time there were no dreams.
Almost a week went by before we heard anything from the police. Anne and I were sitting at the table reading on a Friday night while Brent and Michael were watching television and talking about movies when there was a knock at the door. Michael answered it and when he saw the officers standing there he called for Anne and I to come in the living room. We all sat, the officers taking a seat closest to the door and they gave us their update.
"Your father was apprehended at a local bar last night," one of them said to me. "A uniformed officer responded to a disturbance call and picked him up. The officer was taking him to his patrol car when he was assaulted by your father. The officer was beaten pretty badly and his firearm was taken. Now, if any of you think that you are in danger from him, you need to go to some place safe where he can't find you. It would be best if you didn't tell anyone where you were going, except the police of course, and don't go anywhere alone, especially places you frequent. If you decide to leave town, then go to the local police department when you get there and tell them what is going on. They can call us any time and we'll give you a case number that you can give them."
"Officer, do you think the boys are in trouble?" Michael asked.
"I don't know, sir," he said. "I don't think it's a good idea to take unnecessary risks. We'll find him again and he won't get the same opportunity he got the last time."
I should have felt better, but all I could do was worry about where he was and what he would do if he found me or Brent. I thought about him taking the cop's gun and what he would do with it. I worried about being so close to the house. He knew where I lived, but did he know that Brent's parents only lived a few blocks away? All these things were going through my head when Brent took my hand and squeezed it.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I won't let anything hurt you." He must have seen the look on my face. I'm sure it wasn't something that looked comforted. Anne and Michael walked the officers to the door and I told Brent that I was scared. He hugged me tighter and I started crying a little. I felt like all of this was my fault. We went upstairs and Brent lay with me on the bed for a while. It wasn't long before Michael came in and sat down in a chair across the room.
"You never told me if you two had fun in Saint Augustine," he said. Brent told him that we did and told him some of the things that we did while we were there. "I've been thinking," he said after a minute. "How would you like to go to Savannah?"
"I think we would enjoy that," Brent said. He squeezed my hand and I nodded.
"Good," Michael said. "What do you think about leaving tomorrow?"
"Do you really think we need to?" I asked. I knew what he was doing, but I was unsure that it would solve the problem. We couldn't stay gone forever and eventually my father would find us if that's what he wanted to do. "I mean, the problem is still going to be there until they catch him and what are we going to do about school? We've already missed so much this year."
"I'm glad you're concerned about school," Michael said. "But if staying alive means being held back a year, then I would rather have you both graduate a year late and still be with us than not. But still, I`m sure we can work something out with the school board. They`ve already helped so much."
I had to admit that it made sense. I thought about it for a minute and agreed that it may be best for Brent and I to leave for a while. We decided that a week should be enough time for them to find my father and then Brent and I would come back and everything would be fine.
Michael said that he would get us plane tickets, he didn't want us driving and neither of us disagreed with him due to our past experience with driving. He went downstairs to get online and find a flight and a hotel and Brent and I took a shower. "Do you really want to go?" Brent asked me as he washed my hair.
I spit out a mouthful of water and said, "Well, I don't really want to, but I have to agree with your dad. I don't know what my father is up to. He's got a gun now and he broke into our house in the middle of the night. Who knows what's going through his head? Maybe it will be best to just get away for a few days and get all of this off of our minds. And who knows, Savannah may be fun."
He ran his hands down my sides and rested them on my butt. He gave it a playful squeeze and said, "I'm sure it'll be more fun than Saint Augustine." I didn't need to see him to know that he was smiling. I was finally getting my mind off of our problems for a while and the last of my worries disappeared with a kiss.
It wouldn't have been very far to drive to Savannah, so the flight was very short. There was a rental car waiting for us at the airport and we loaded all of our bags into it and drove to our hotel. I was glad to have Brent to describe it to me. He didn't miss any details, down to the colors and textures of anything he saw. From his words I built an image of it in my head that was reminiscent of Gone With the Wind. We got to the hotel and had lunch in the small restaurant downstairs, then went to our room for a nap. After a while, we both got up and took a shower, then went to see what there was to do in town.
It didn't take long for us to realize that there was a lot to do. After only an hour, Brent had enough things that he wanted us to do that it would take all week to do them. I didn't really mind, I was just glad to be spending this time with him. We went to a flower garden and for the first time it occurred to me that every time he saw a flower, he was very careful to describe it to me. It made me feel good, but I didn't know what the special attention to flowers was all about. I decided that I would have to ask him about it sometime.
We walked around the small town enjoying the weather and our regained freedom. There were little cafes and diners all over, so we stopped every once in a while for a coffee or a snack. We spent the afternoon just walking and talking. We stopped and had dinner before we went back to the hotel, then sat up late watching movies.
The next day I woke to the sound of the phone ringing. I fumbled around in the perpetual darkness and knocked a few things off the nightstand before I got the phone. "Hello?" I asked.
"Jon, are you alright?" Anne asked.
"Oh, I'm fine, I was just asleep," I said.
"Is Brent there with you?" she asked.
I felt behind me on the bed until my hand felt the warm skin of his firm stomach. I could tell from his breathing that he was still asleep, so I lowered my voice a little. "He's right here," I said. "He's still sleeping. How are you?"
"I'm fine," she said. "But I have some news. We aren't exactly sure what it means yet, but the police called and told us that your father has stolen a car. They have it on tape. The car had some credit cards in it and they said that one of them was used at a store on the interstate just inside Georgia. Do you know if Brent told anyone where you were going?"
"I'm pretty sure he didn't," I said. "Do you think we should come back?"
"I don't know," she said. "Let me talk to Michael and I'll call you back."
I hung up the phone and shook Brent. He was groggy, but sat up in the bed and hugged me. I told him what was going on and he got up and got dressed and told me to do the same. He picked out some clothes for me and after I had dressed we left the hotel. Brent said that if my father was coming here, he didn't want to be sitting in one place waiting for him. For my part, I was tired of being scared of my father. Now I was more angry than anything. I didn't like having to run like this.
Brent held my hand as we walked fairly quickly through town. He told me when we were coming up on curbs and things that could trip me, then he found a park with tall oak trees and benches. Plenty of people were walking around and playing in the shade and Brent thought it was a good enough place to stop and wait for his mother to call on his cell phone. We had a seat on a bench under an old oak near the center of the park. Brent let me walk around feeling of things while he called his mother and got the latest news from her. After a few minutes he came to get me and said that his father wanted us to stay here until he could get a flight out for us, then he would call back. We were both hungry so we walked to the entrance of the park and bought some hot dogs from a vendor there, then went back to our spot.
"I don't want this to control our lives anymore," I said as we ate. "I'm tired of running. I've been doing it all my life and there's no reason I should have to run from my own father."
"I know you're tired," Brent said. "And I promise, after this is over you'll never have to run from anything again, but for right now I think it's best to keep you away from him. There's no telling what he intends to do and I'd rather not take any chances that could cost me you." His cell phone rang a few minutes later and Michael said that he'd found us a flight. It didn't leave until six o'clock that night, but he didn't want us going back to the hotel right away. He said to stay out and try not to think about it, then go to the hotel at about four and get our things. After we packed we were to go straight to the airport and sit in the terminal until it was time to go. My father couldn't get a gun into the airport and he couldn't even get in the terminal without a ticket.
We spent a while longer in the park and finally it was getting close to three. It would be a while before we would have a chance to eat again, so we decided to have dinner, then go to the hotel. There was a nice restaurant down the street and we walked inside. They seated us right away and to our surprise, they had the menu in brail. The prices were a bit high, but Brent told me that I could order anything I wanted. As we ate, I listened to the sounds of the restaurant. I described to Brent everything that I heard, from the man across the room proposing to the girl he was sitting with to the two waiters in the kitchen having a quiet argument about one stealing the other's table. My hearing was definitely getting better, or so everyone said. I thought you just had to pay attention to hear those things.
We were able to forget about everything for a while and I didn't want dinner to end, so I ordered desert. When that was done I ordered coffee. It only took Brent a few minutes to figure out what I was doing and he reached across the table to take my hand in his. "Relax," he said. "We're just going to go get our things and go to the airport, then everything will be fine." I nodded my head and we paid the bill.
During the walk back to the hotel we were quiet except for the requisite descriptions of obstacles I would have to avoid. When we were in the elevator we both breathed a sigh of relief. We had been in the hotel room for a few minutes and were across the room from the closed door when my father stepped out of the bathroom and said, "Did you miss me, son?"
I was suddenly scared to death. I felt as if my stomach had turned to ice and I couldn't hear Brent. I felt around for anything familiar to get my bearings with, but didn't find anything before my father told me to stop and stand up straight.
"Hello, pretty boy," he said to Brent. "You're being awfully quiet. I've seen the way you lead the cripple around telling him everything you see. Why don't you tell him what you see now?" Brent remained quiet, but I could tell from the sound of my father's voice that he had moved closer to me. "Tell him!" he shouted. "Or I pull the trigger."
I heard Brent swallow hard, then he stammered and said, "He's holding a gun in front of your face. The hammer is back." He was crying so hard by now that he couldn't talk. I knew that I should have been afraid and possibly crying, too, but the emotion that I was feeling was altogether different. I was literally seething with rage, but I knew that if I did something he could shoot Brent.
"Typical," my dad said. "All you little pussy faggots are the same. You cry about everything and when something doesn't work out for you, then it's convenient for you to blame it on how society treats homos."
I had expected him to be drunk, but I couldn't smell the alcohol on him. He wasn't shouting either, which surprised me even more. Instead he seemed to be rather calm and collective about the whole thing, like this was nothing out of the ordinary. My mind was working frantically, however, to find a way out of this. I knew that Brent was scared that something was going to happen to me, but I had to be strong for both of us. Suddenly I remembered the cell phone in my pocket. When Brent and I were in the park, he had almost left it on the bench that we'd been sitting on and I felt it when I got up, so I slipped it in my pocket. I obviously couldn't dial it with him looking right at me, so we had to pacify him until the time was right.
"Where are you boys off to in such a hurry?" he asked. When neither of us answered, he jabbed me in the chest with the barrel of the pistol and pushed me back on the bed. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to answer me when I ask you a question, boy?" he half whispered to me. In the past I would have been so terrified by now that I would have wet myself, but that was in the past. Now I had something to be angry about. Not only was I disabled now, but he was also threatening the only person in the world that had ever loved me. And I loved him much more than myself. I resigned myself to the fact that at the first chance I would kill my own father to protect him, even if I had to die to do it. But it would do no good if he could see the anger in me, so I gritted my teeth together until it hurt and swore silently to myself that I would catch him off guard. "Let's take a little ride," he said as he pulled me up off the bed and slung me toward the door. "Come on, lover boy," he said to Brent. I heard scuffling and could see in my mind that he'd grabbed Brent the same way he had grabbed me.
We took the elevator down and went outside. After walking for a couple of blocks, I heard the jingle of car keys and a door open. He shoved me unceremoniously into the back seat and slammed the door. Then he got in the passenger seat and had Brent drive. I was laying down in the back seat, so I slowly slid my hand in my pocket with the cell phone. Quickly I felt the number pad and dialed 911, then pressed send. I didn't take the phone out, but I knew that they could trace the call. Fortunately, we had called the police and checked in when we arrived as the police back home had said to do and this was the phone number that we had given them. If they matched it, then the police would know something was wrong and would come quick.
I could feel the car moving, but I had no idea where we were or where we were going. My father kept saying things like, "Turn right at the red light," or "Take this street here." It didn't matter, it wasn't like I was going to pick up the phone and tell them exactly how to get to us. I wasn't even sure I would know where we were going even if I could see. We drove for a while until my dad told Brent to pull over. We got out of the car and I could smell trees. We walked, Brent beside me and my father following us, for a while. I could tell that we were walking in a field because of all the weeds that were brushing my legs and hands as we walked. The sun was hot, but I got cooler after a while making me think that we had walked into the woods. It wasn't long before I was thrown against a tree and told not to move. I could feel Brent standing very close to me, the heat coming off of him in waves. It was killing me that there was apparently nothing I could do about this. I didn't even know if the cell phone was still connected, or if it had ever connected to begin with. I didn't know what else to do, so I asked my father what he was doing all this for.
"You've always been an embarrassment to me," he said. "Too weak to even defend yourself. I picked on you for years trying to toughen you up, but you were just too fucking stupid and weak. I expected it from your sister, but you were supposed to be a boy. Now I know why though. You were a little pussy boy the whole time. Just love suckin' dick like a bitch, don't ya?"
"Fuck you!" I yelled. "You didn't pick on me to toughen me up, you sorry fuck, you tortured me! When I was sick you would beat me for puking! If I made bad grades you would beat me for being stupid, but if I made good grades you would beat me for trying to be a know-it-all! You never wanted a son, you wanted a fucking punching bag!" I must have really hit a nerve because I felt the butt of the pistol make contact with my jaw and I hit the ground. It hurt more than anything I had ever felt, but I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't cry no matter what he did to me.
"Touch him and I'll fucking shoot both of you, faggot," I heard him say. He must have been talking to Brent, but I wasn't done with him yet.
"Go ahead and hit me, you stupid fuck," I yelled as I scrambled back to my feet. "That's your solution to everything. If you can't understand it, make it afraid of you! Threaten to fucking kill it! You're so fucking weak minded, I doubt you know how to do anything else!"
I must have distracted him enough that Brent thought he could get the gun away from him because I heard scuffling then the most dreaded sound to me in the world came. The thunder of a gunshot ripped through my ears, then a cry. I had no idea how he was hurt, but I knew the cry came from Brent. He'd been shot, but I didn't know where or how bad it was. Then I heard another gunshot and a body hit the floor. I didn't even wait to hear who it was, but let out a blood-curdling yell and launched myself in the direction of where my father had been a minute ago. I was in the air for a second, then tripped over someone laying on the ground. My first instinct said that it was Brent, but I felt around and felt a gun in the dead fingers. I was confused and didn't know what was going on. This had to be the body of my father, but what had happened? Had he shot himself? Then I heard Brent breathing heavily a few feet away. "Brent?" I asked. "Brent, is that you? Please say something!"
"He can't, son, he's passed out," a voice said.
"Who are you?" I asked as I scrambled backward away from the newcomer. "What's going on?"
"It's okay," he said. "I'm Officer Jake Halloran. The man that was threatening you is dead, I had to shoot him in the back before he shot the boy again. He's passed out against a tree with a bullet hole in his left shoulder. I was told that you're blind, but I want you to stand and feel my badge." He helped me to my feet and put my hand on his chest. After I had felt the badge and could read some of the things on it, I was convinced.
"Is Brent going to be okay?" I asked. Despite my promise not to let my father see me cry, he was dead and tears were streaming down my face. "Please tell me he's alright," I begged.
"He's fine," the policeman said. He led me to him and lowered my hand until it touched his chest. I could feel his breathing and his heartbeat and was so happy that I cried even harder. "We have to get you out of here," he said. "I'm going to have to carry Brent out of here. And I want you to hold onto my belt and don't let go, okay?" I nodded and waited for him to pick up Brent and sling him over his shoulder. "You're a couple of very strong boys," he continued as I took hold of his belt from behind and we started on our way out of the woods. "You're parents are going to be very proud of you both. It`s lucky that you had that cell phone and called 911 or we might not have found you in time."
It struck me that he had no idea who he'd just shot. All he knew was that two boys were in trouble and had called the emergency number. And by the time he caught up to us, he had to shoot someone that was threatening us. He was very kind and I told myself that he didn't need to know who he'd shot. Only that he'd saved two lives by taking one. He drove us to the hospital and stayed at my request as the doctors and nurses rushed Brent into the emergency room. A couple of hours later a doctor came out and told me that they had to remove the bullet from Brent's shoulder and he had already had surgery to fix the shattered bone in his upper arm. They saved his arm, but it would have to be in a cast for a few months and he would have to go to rehab. The policeman made a phone call while I was talking to the doctor and when he came back he said that Brent's parents and my mother were on the way. From the sound of his voice I could tell that he still had no idea that the dead man in the woods was my father. I pulled the doctor to the side and quickly told him the story. I asked him as a personal favor to me to call the police station and inform them that I didn't want the policeman that saved me to know that he'd killed my father. The doctor seemed a little unsure and shocked a little that I wasn`t very concerned about my father being dead, but he promised that he would do as I'd asked. I sat with the policeman in the waiting room for a couple of hours and told him more than a few times that I felt like I was keeping him from his personal life and that I could wait by myself if he wanted to go. He said that he wouldn't leave until my mother arrived and took me directly from his custody. To pass the time, I told him the entire story about how I'd become blind and how Brent, my lover, had promised to take care of me. He seemed deeply touched by the whole thing and was still very nice to me even after he found out that Brent and I were gay.
My mother and Brent's parents almost ran into the waiting room a while later. The policeman that had waited with me introduced himself to my mother and told her what a brave young man I was. Michael shook his hand and thanked him vociferously for taking care of me and Brent. They were all amazed at the story of how the policeman got both me and Brent out of the woods with me being blind and Brent unconscious and demanded that they be allowed to take him to dinner.
All this time I was getting more and more anxious since it had been hours since I'd had any word about Brent. Finally, a nurse approached our small group and informed us that he had been moved to a room and was sleeping. She said that direct family could go up and sit with him and asked who we were. Michael took charge of the situation and said that he was Brent's father an introduced Anne. He told the nurse that I was his lover and that I would be coming with them. The nurse had a look of confusion on her face and started to say that I wasn't allowed to go up, but the policeman stepped in and played his policeman trump card. He told her that under no circumstances was I to be barred access to Brent's room at any time or for any reason. I was so happy I could have kissed him, but I hugged him instead. "That's twice you've saved me today," I said. I made him promise that he would keep in touch, then Michael and Anne walked me to the elevator. I was so anxious to get to Brent that I couldn't contain myself. I was shaking all over and as we entered the car of the elevator, I ran my hand over the buttons. Each one had its number in brail below it and I pushed the one for Brent's floor before Anne had even gotten completely in the door. I found myself wishing I could see again so that I wouldn't need them to lead me. It seemed like we were walking as slowly as we possibly could.
After what seemed like miles, we finally reached Brent's room. I could hear a nurse adjusting things in the room, no doubt to make room for us, and she left as soon as we came in. Anne and Michael hovered over Brent for a minute, cooing how much they loved him and that he needed to get better so he could come home soon, then they led me to the bed. Brent acted like he hadn't seen me in forever. He pulled me down to him and kissed me deeply, telling me how much he loved me and how scared he'd been that something might happen to me. "I must have passed out when he shot me," he said. All I remember is trying to get the gun away from him, then I woke up in here. What happened?"
I told him the whole story, even the parts that he knew. He listened without interrupting me and held my hand to help me tell it. I started crying and told him that I was so scared when I heard the second gunshot and heard the body hitting the ground that he had shot him a second time and killed him. In that moment I thought I had lost the only person that had ever truly loved me. "I would rather be dead than live without you," I said.
He pulled me close to him, though I could tell that it was hurting him, and I swung my legs up and lay down beside him. I knew that both his parents and my mother were still in the room, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered except that I had Brent and he was okay.
To be continued...
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