This story contains material of a sexual nature and should not be viewed my anyone under legal age.  Furthermore, that sexual material involves two males in acts of gay sex.  If this offends you in any way, shape, or form, please do not continue.

All character names are made up and hold no basis to real people, living or dead.  Any similarities are purely coincidental.   Establishments and cities may possess original or fictional names since this is based loosely on a true tale.

I hold all copyright laws.  This document or the documents preceding can be dispersed freely as long as this disclaimer and credits to the author are included with it.

This story contains sexual thoughts and actions among consenting
male high school students under 18.  All of the sex in this story
is between consenting males.  One or more of the scenes may
involve sex on school property, which, in real life, is illegal in
most states, and the author specifically urges all readers NOT TO
TRY THIS IN ANY WAY OR DO ANYTHING SEXUAL ON PUBLIC PROPERTY. Sex acts should be in complete privacy on your own private property.

I will not be held responsible for any damages resulting from the reading of this or its preceding documents.  Please, act responsibly.  Thank you

Crown of Thorns
By Chris A.

Crown of Thorns
Chapter 2

This routine I was used to.  Each night, he would beat me. Cursing me for killing his wife, my mother.  Some days it would only be a slap, but others he would really give it to me.  Each day he would stay away from my exposed parts.

I didn't shower at gym.  Didn't want to, people would give me shit about it, but I didn't care.  Hell, if they saw my `unexposed parts' they would probably freak, and that is all the much better.  "Oh, I fell," won't explain all of them.

"Hey, man."  I turned to see who was talking.  Miles walked up to me.

"Hey, Miles.  How's it going?"

"Yea, fine man, fine.  And you?"

"Just fucking dandy.  What brings you over to my side of the locker room today?"

"Just wondering where that funk is coming from."

"Fuck you."

He jibed me and started laughing.  Oblivious to my pain, he continued.  "No seriously, why don't you shower?"


"Need a little more than that man."


"Shy?  Got a small peter?" he said in a sarcastic voice.  I glared at him.

"No, I'm packing more that anyone in this room."

"Yep, I trust you.  What ever man.  What ever you do, use some deodorant, and maybe some clone."

"Screw you."

"You wish."

`Damn right?' I thought.  "Ha."

"Ohhh, nice comeback."

"So, what made you decide to give me a hard time today.  Or is it like this everyday, and I'm just too dumb to notice."

"Chill, I was just kidding."

"Sorry, it has been a long time since somebody talked to me as a friend," I apologized.  Miles wasn't that bad looking.  He was much taller than me, about 6'3" and big and beefy.  You know, the football types.  Big guy, kind heart sort of thing.  He had dark hair, light tan, and ocean blue eyes.

"What about that Danny guy?"

"Besides him."

"Ohh, well, I guess, I'll take that as a compliment."  Just then the bell rang for the next class.  "Got to go, don't be late now."

"Like I actually care."  I don't think he heard me.  He was out the door.  I finished applying my dose of chemicals to cover my smell and went to my next class, Art.  If there is one thing positive about Adv. Drawing it is expressionism.  I can draw what I want when I want, no questions asked.  And believe me, I drew.  I put it best this way.  Through my hands I release my dreams, my emotions, my life.  One of the more famous drawings which is hanging in the display case signed anonymous is one I call Crown of Thorns.

In the drawing there is a boy with a thorn crown on his head.  Much the same picture of Jesus, except no halo.  There is a panic in the boy, expressed through his face.  Coming toward him are two people.  One is a strong hairy person with clenched fists and an angry look.  This is the face the boy cowers from.  There is another boy from above with a hand out stretched.  Just barely out of reach.  And in the back ground as a faint image, like a watermark is the face of my dream.  The image is the one of the boy's mind.  Created a fantasy to take him away where his friend can't and the enemy can't touch.  This image is my life.  If somebody were to know it was me who drew it, they would know my dreams, emotions, and my life.



"Shut up faggot!" he yelled as he hit me hard in the stomach.  I collapsed onto the ground.  He walked around and kicked me in the back.  "That will teach you to steal food from the fridge.  You will eat when I say you can."  Under his breath he whispered, "God damn son of a bitch."  I don't think he realized the irony in that statement.  Behind him he closed the door.  I felt alone.  Even with the friends I did have and the new one I made so unexpectedly this morning, I felt so alone.

I wanted so much to have a normal life.  Just the simple pleasures.  Like a fun weekend, and decent dinner, maybe even a hug.  I can't have them.  I will never have them.  Depression set in.  I started to cry.  `I wish that I could be normal.  I wish that I could have a mother and a father that love, I wish that I had life much like my friends, I wish that I could like girls.  God, is this so much to ask.  Are these requests a burden to you.  What is it.  Are you fucking testing me.  Is this a test.  See how much one kid can take before he kills himself.  Maybe, that is the answer.'  I painfully got up.  By now the house was asleep.  I walked to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.  Tears were streaming down my face.  There in front of me were bottles of medications.  `May cause dependence', `Take two every two hours.'  Bingo.  I looked at my image in the mirror.  Amazed at what I was about to do.  There were dried tears across my face.  I had bags under my eyes and I looked pale.  My hair was a mess and I just looked like shit.  I turned my head in disgust.  I sat on the tub and took a handful of pills.  `Well God, you won.  I have nothing to live for.  My life fucking sucks.  People say there is always somebody out there worse than you.  Well I haven't met any.'  I popped two pills in my mouth.  `Just the beginning.'

It was then that I heard a bed rustling.  I quickly stuffed the pills into my pocket and ran to my room.  I softly closed the door behind me.  I heard my brother get up and piss.  I sat on the edge of my bed.  Thankfully, I no longer had to look at myself.  For the longest time I just stared at them.  Each one a sentence of death.  `What the hell am I doing.'  I tossed the pills across the room.  Each one making a stuttering sound as it skipped across the floor.  I buried my head in my hands and cried.

No clif hanger there, I hope you liked this chapter, I think that I fixed the "" and ' error.  (hope)  it seems to only happen to those useing Netscape 4.75 to view the page.  So, well like any author, I appreciate any feedback.  Heck, it is great encouragement.  Send the feed back to: omicron-theta