concerns teenage gay males who may be involved in sexual
situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do
not like to read such stories, please leave now.
This story is
copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
This is my
first submission to Nifty. Any comments or questions are
welcome at: firstname.lastname@example.org
A warm thank
you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff.
Randall, I want you to know I appreciate what you’re doing for
me, but I don’t think this will help. I can’t remember. I can’t
remember hardly anything.”
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 9 – I Hardly Knew Him
“What do you remember?”
“Pain. Lot’s of pain, but it was a familiar pain.
I’d been raped before. I know what that feels like. It’s not a pain I
like to remember, but it was that pain.”
“Not being able to breathe. My brain exploding from
lack of oxygen. My brain fighting for life, but confused by the pain.
It was the pain, Doctor Randall. It was the pain. The pain woke me. The
rope around my neck. It was a small rope. The rope burned my neck. It
wasn’t hot, but it burned. I couldn’t breathe. The rope burned. The
hard-on up my ass. The thrusts. The words. The voice.”
“I can’t remember.”
“I can’t remember. Don’t you understand? I can’t
remember the voice or the words, but I know someone was saying
something. And, then, nothing.”
“You’re lucky to be alive. Your sister saved you.”
“She shouldn’t have had to suffer because of me.”
“She’ll be okay, broken bones heal.”
“But, she’s so little.”
“I think we gone as far as we can today. I’ll have
the nurse give you something to sleep. We made a little progress today,
Geoff. We made a little progress. Maybe tomorrow you’ll remember the
“Or, the voice?”
“Maybe the voice, but I think one will trigger the
other. There are other avenues we can explore. Get some sleep.”
I wasn’t in County. Doctor Randall had me
transferred to a private psych hospital on the east side of Lake
Washington. He wanted better control over me. He didn’t want County
bugging him. He didn’t want me getting attacked. He knew about those
people at County. I told him. He believed me.
I was in a four bed pediatric ward. Peter was
thirteen. He was a junkie. He did sex with older men to get money. He
was cute, but lived in a world I never imagined existed. He talked
about doing things that gave me pleasure, but he did simply for money.
Peter was thirteen, but could have been twenty. Johnny was fifteen,
almost a year younger than me. His parents thought he was unmanageable.
His parents thought he was on drugs. His parents thought he was a
homosexual. His parents couldn’t believe Johnny was their son because
all their other children were not like him. Mostly, though, Johnny was
suicidal. He had scars. He wasn’t a jumper, like me. Sam was too laid
back. Sam was too cool. Sam was a month older than me, but was years
behind in school. Sam didn’t care. Sam didn’t care about shit, no
motivation to do anything. Sam wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going
to get out. Sam walked out in traffic. He didn’t care.
Most of the time, I slept. Drugged, dreamless sleep.
Nightmares kept at bay, mostly. I’d nod off at meals and the nightmares
made me scream. Sam and Peter didn’t care. Johnny was scared. I felt
sorry for Johnny. His shrink was taking his parent’s money and making
Johnny stay in the hospital. Peter sucked Johnny’s dick at night to
help him go to sleep. I was too drugged out to do anything except
watch. I couldn’t even get hard.
There was a rope around my neck when Mother came in
to find Sally slammed against my dresser, her jaw and cheek bone
broken. Mother could see I’d been raped, there was blood. She called
police and ambulance, then Doctor Randall. That was the most important
call. He got me out of County, early.
No one knew who did it. Sally might have seen, but
she couldn’t remember, maybe she was still half-asleep when the rapist
hit her. All she remembered was seeing me lying face down on my bed
with a rope around my neck, then waking up when the firemen arrived.
The North Park police weren’t doing a lot.
Homosexual rape was way down on their list of important crimes. Was I
homosexual? Was it a spurned lover? Did I invite someone in and things
went bad. It was known that near suffocation enhances sexual response,
so maybe the rope around my neck was done for that purpose. They didn’t
seem to care that I almost died and Sally had been brutally assaulted.
Mother was talking to a lawyer.
I was not allowed visitors, not even Mother. I
couldn’t even talk on the telephone, Doctor Randall’s orders. I could
get cards and notes, but no letters. “Have them send you a postcard
saying everything is fine,” Doctor Randall told me. He wanted to keep
me away from outside suggestions. He wanted to find out who did it. I
don’t know if he was working with the police or Mother’s lawyer.
Only problem was, I couldn’t remember anything
except waking up and realizing I was being raped, again. Only this time
a rope was around my neck and I couldn’t breathe. And, then, I might
have died; or, I came damned close to dying.
The only thing that kept me going was knowing
someday I’d have Tim’s naked body next to mine. I didn’t even think of
Kiel, maybe because I really, really deep down where horrible ideas
gather out of dark, dusty holes, thought Kiel might have been the
rapist. He said he’d kill me. He almost forced me to have sex with him.
He was acting strange that day. He’d broken up with Tim because he
thought I told, which I did, but he didn’t know, only assumed.
I got get well cards from Mother, Sally, Tim,
Monica, Niel at Gussie’s, Dawling (Tim found him and told him.), and
Mark, who wrote, “I know this is a horrible time for me to say
anything, but I’d really like to get to know you better. Love, Mark.” I
threw his card away. The last thing I needed was to know a former tight
end wanted to do it with me, when he didn’t have the foggiest idea what
doing it meant.
There was nothing from Kiel. I wrote Mother asking
about Kiel, but she hadn’t responded. I wrote Tim, but he said he
hadn’t seen or heard from Kiel since the Sunday we went to see Mark.
When Tim brought me home to get ready for school, Kiel didn’t come out
to get in Tim’s car. We knocked at the door, but no one was at home.
When I sent another postcard to him, he replied he was spending a lot
of time at my house, with my mother and Sally. When I sent another
postcard specifically about Kiel, Tim said I should talk to my shrink.
I didn’t want to think it was Kiel who did that to
me. I couldn’t imagine a guy with a dick that beautiful being someone
who could do what happened to me. I didn’t want it to be Kiel. I wanted
it to be someone else, but I knew it had to be Kiel. I suppose that was
why I was being kept here so I would come to realize my friend, the boy
who I wanted to be my boyfriend, the boy I was jealous of because he
knew Tim, the boy who let me get to know Tim, the one boy I’d ever seen
who had a dream dick was some horrible animal who got his kicks raping
other boys while strangling them.
“How are you
doing today, Geoff?” Doctor Randall asked. He had an
office at the hospital. It was quite large with a broad cherrywood
desk, green vinyl couch, a couple comfortable side chairs, and a big
bookcase. There was a window overlooking the inner court where
difficult patients were allowed to get out into the sun. Good patients
had a fenced lawn and rose garden at the back of the hospital.
Doctor Randall was stretched out on his couch. The
curtains were pulled tight. The only light came from a desk lamp. “Come
here and lie down beside me. I think we need to explore a different
avenue to help you discover the truth.”
I sat in one of the side chairs staring at the
outline of his cock in his gray slacks. I couldn’t tell if it was hard,
or if his pants were pulled tight so I was able to see it. I didn’t
know if he’d done this on purpose, or it was only my psycho imagination
trying to make something of nothing. All of the trust I’d placed in him
was on the couch where his hand was patting the place I was to sit. I
felt tears in my eyes.
“Come on, Geoff. Stand up and take off your robe.
Come on, Geoff, we haven’t got all day. There are other patients here
who need my help, too. That’s it stand up.”
I couldn’t help myself as I stood and let the
hospital robe fall from my shoulders. It lay in a crumpled pile on the
floor at my feet. I stepped to the couch.
“That’s it, Geoff. You’re doing good. Just a little
more. Come on, turn around and unbutton your pajama bottoms. You’re a
good boy, Geoff. Just remember you’re a good boy. Sit down.”
I didn’t know why I was doing this. I couldn’t stop
following his instructions. The light went out. I couldn’t see
anything. I felt hands pulling my pajama top up over my head. Hands
were touching me, pulling me down onto the couch. I didn’t want to do
this, but I couldn’t stop. And, then he was on top of me. His hands
around my neck. I couldn’t breathe.
“You like this, don’t you Geoff? You like my hands
around your neck. I’ve got a rope right here.”
“Don’t Kiel! Stop it! Kiel I don’t want this. My
god, Kiel! God, not that. I can’t breathe. Help me, Kiel. I didn’t
tell. I didn’t. Oh, stop, Kiel. Please, god, Kiel, stop. If I say I
told Tim, will you stop? Kiel? I told him, Kiel. Stop, oh, god, Kiel,
And, then I wasn’t there. I was in my bed in the
ward. I was lying on my side, my knees pulled up to my chest. I was
crying. I was holding onto my pillow like it was a big teddy bear and I
was crying into it. I saw Mother sitting in the chair beside my bed.
She looked sad. It must be hard for a parent to see their child acting
like a psycho.
I stared at her. She looked up and smiled. I felt
safe in that smile.
I woke up later that night to the sound of Peter
sucking Johnny’s dick. Sam was in my bed holding me. His head was
behind mine, I could feel his warm breath on my neck. I thought he was
asleep. I watched Johnny come and I felt Sam’s hand around my hard-on
begin to move. I felt his erection between my thighs, thrusting slowly
against bare skin. I went back to sleep.
A few mornings later I returned to Doctor Randall’s
office. He was sitting on the front of his desk. Mother was sitting in
one of the side chairs. Tim was in the other. There was an empty chair
“Come on in, Geoff,” Doctor Randall said, getting to
his feet. “Why don’t you sit between your mother and your friend. We’ve
been talking about letting you go home. What do you think about that?”
“Where’s Kiel?” I asked. I sat in the chair. Mother
reached over and took my hand. Tim looked nervous. I didn’t know why he
“Kiel’s dead, honey,” Mother said.
I looked at Tim, he nodded. He looked sad. I didn’t
know if he was sad because I was crazy or because Kiel was dead. I
hadn’t known him long enough to guess what he was thinking. I wanted to
take him in my arms and hold him to me. I wanted my mother to do the
same to me. I didn’t know which I wanted more. I felt a tear dribble
down my cheek. Tim handed me a tissue.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Kiel killed himself sometime after leaving your
house,” Tim said. His voice was empty of emotion as if he was reading
from a newspaper. “He hung himself in his garage. According to the
police he killed his parents and older sister then came over to your
house. Got in somehow.”
“I let him in,” I said. “He wanted to apologize for
what happened on Sunday. He was on me as soon as we got to my bedroom.
He strangled me, but not enough to kill me. I came to while he was
raping me. The rope was around my neck. I struggled. The knot tightened
and I lost consciousness. I didn’t wake up until I was here.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I thought he loved me. I thought
it was okay. I didn’t want Sally to get hurt. I’m sorry.”
I started to blubber like a baby.
“It’s okay, honey. I don’t think anyone knew Kiel
Tim came over and squatted down beside my chair. He
held my hand. There were tears in his eyes.
“Will you let me take care of you?” He asked. “I’ve
been helping take care of Sally. She misses you. She wants you to come
I looked at Doctor Randall, he was smiling. I
noticed he had quite a bulge in his jeans. Maybe I was going to be
okay, if I could check out my shrink while being comforted by the boy
who was going to become my new boyfriend. I felt good, but I was sorry
Kiel was dead. I guess I didn’t know that much about him, after all,
kind of like I didn’t know much about Stevie, either. I was going to
get to know Tim. I was not going to let him die. I had to stop going to
psychiatrists, especially good looking ones like Doctor Randall. And, I
missed Sally, if it’s possible to miss a little brat of a sister.
“I’d like to go home.
It’s been fun here, Doctor
Randall. We’ve had a lot of laughs. Peter, Johnny, and Sam are great
kids, a little crazy maybe, but fun to be with. I would like to go
home, anyway. Is that okay, Doctor Randall?”
“I think that is the best therapy I can give you,” Doctor
Randall said, getting to his feet and stepping up to me. He took my
other hand and held it, gently squeezing with half a smile and, was
that a wink?
Did my shrink wink at me? Was my shrink coming on to
me? God, this place was making me crazy to think like that. What did he
do to me after I passed out? Did I remember my ass being sore
afterwards? How many days was I out? How long had I been there?
“Can I go home now?” I asked, feeling myself being
pulled into a hug. There was love in that hug, not the kind of love I
feared, but a warm, soft, gentle love. A love I could handle.
interested, this story will be continued in, “Tim and the
Corsair,” which will be coming sooner than you might imagine. Geoff
still has Mark’s threat hanging over him. Will Geoff finally jump off
the bridge, or has Doctor Randall cured him? Will Tim be the lucky
lover, or will he to succumb to Geoff’s unfortunate tendency to have
his lovers die? And, what about Monica? Will she simply let Mark cross
the street and become Geoff’s latest sexual interest, or will she fight
for her man? Have we seen the last of Peter, Johnny, or Sam?
Who else at
North Park High lives on the other side of the fence out of
view of the “normal” students? Like any town in the world, North Park,
Washington, has its share of boys who seem just like any other boy
except for a wandering eye, a touch unlike anything you expected, and,
well, an interest in other boys that you weren’t certain boys that age
It comes early
in life. Not with fanfare or applause. No one cheers
when they realize the boy next door is a whole lot cuter than his
sister. Some boys handle it fairly well; and some boys don’t. Teenage
suicide is no laughing matter. I make light of it only because I’ve
been at the edge and seen the emptiness of eternity. There is no
mystery to why more boys try it than girls. In a society where being a
man means having a woman, those who can’t be like that and don’t
understand why they’re different run a great risk of opting out rather
than seeking help for something so embarrassing that opting out
sometimes seems the better choice. Please give support your local teen
support center, crisis clinic, suicide prevention hotline,
help is needed more than you may realize.