This
story
concerns teenage gay males who are
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 chapter deals with a sexual
encounter
between an adult and a teenage boy. If you are offended by this type of
sexual
activity, please stop now and leave. Thank you for your consideration.
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
entirely coincidental.
This
is my second submission to Nifty. This is a
continuation of “Kiel’s Story”
which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not
necessary to read “Kiel’s Story”
to enjoy this, but it may help you
understand where the character relationships started. Any comments or
questions
are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
A
warm thank
you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all,
including flames, but time is precious and if I haven't answered your
email, I apologize.
Tim and the Corsair
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 1 – Some Things Never Change
Mother is not happy.
When Dad died a few
months
ago, she suddenly became the boss around here. Well, actually, she’d
been boss
for a long time, what with Dad out on the road all the time selling
pipe, but
now she was really boss. I’m a problem. She loves me. She has to, comes
with
the mother job, but she’s disappointed. I can tell by the look in her
eyes.
I’m home. I get
beat up at
school and I get sent home. Somehow she doesn’t think that’s right. Of
course,
the bad guy went out with the police. He won’t be back. I have to go
back. I’m
not bad, just pathetic. She puts up a good front, but a kid can tell
when a bit
of love has been subtracted out of the equation. I wanted to cry. She
left my room.
I was alone.
The plate of dinner
she
brought up because I didn’t come down was on my desk next to an old
volume of
the Illiad. I’d been reading Virgil, again. I get sad and I
read Latin
or Greek. If I’m really bad, I read Russian. I’m teaching myself to
read
Sanskrit, too, but I’m not that sad, haven’t been in months.
I opened my closet
door,
squatted down to the foot locker, unlocked the latch, and opened it.
Mr.
Crowley was on top tucked under a little baby blue cotton blanket. Mr.
Crowley
is my teddy bear. I carefully picked him up and took him back to my
bed.
Sitting down, I held him close and started to weep. I wasn’t sad enough
to
blubber like a baby. I was only a little sad.
There was a knocked
at my
door. Mother opened it and looked at me. She smiled and stood out of
the way.
Sam came in. Mother closed the door.
“Hi,” Sam said. He
walked
over and sat beside me. He was wearing blue jeans and a brown,
short-sleeved
sweatshirt. He still had the penny loafers on. He’d shaved. There was a
wad of shaving
cream behind his ear. “Nice teddy bear. Does he have a name?”
“Mr. Crowley, meet
Sam, uh, I
don’t know your last name,” I said holding Mr. Crowley out so Sam could
hold
him.
“She’s going to
call the
hospital, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she’s a
mother. They
have to do that. It comes with the job.”
I felt his hand
take mine and
softly hold it. He leaned his head against my shoulder. I heard him
sigh.
“I liked sleeping
with you in
the hospital,” Sam said.
“I only remember
you doing it
once.”
“I did it almost
every night.
It made me feel good having your bare skin against mine.”
“Did you, you know,
every
time?”
“No, just that
once.”
“That was nice. I
liked you
holding me.”
“You went to sleep.”
“I felt good, for
once.”
“Can we be friends?”
“Will you go back?”
“If you want.”
“I don’t want you
to, but I
think you should if you have to.”
“Will you hold me?”
“Will you hold me?”
We lay down facing
each
other. Our arms threaded themselves between our bodies drawing us
closer. He
was weeping. I was crying. I fell asleep.
When I awoke the
next
morning, Sam was gone. It was early, an hour before the alarm was to go
off. I
heard a car in our driveway. From the streetlight, I could see Doctor
Randall
talking to Mother. Sam was sitting in the front seat. He looked sad. He
was
holding Mr. Crowley. I went to take a shower.
Later, sitting at
breakfast—a
bowl of puffed wheat with a sliced banana mixed in, a glass of orange
juice,
two slices of buttered cinnamon toast—I worked through my math problems
from
yesterday. It took about three mouthfuls of cereal to finish. It was
too easy. I
did the chapter pre-test while working on one piece of toast. I
looked
ahead in the book, trying to find something difficult, something I
hadn’t done
on my own in the months, weeks, days, years ago when I was bored with
learning
languages. There wasn’t anything new. I could probably do all the
chapter tests
on one rainy weekend if my hand didn’t get tired from writing.
“Good morning,
honey,” Mother
said walking into the kitchen. She was wearing a blue gingham dress
with a
white blouse. She had her pearl necklace. I noticed the wedding ring
was gone.
I hadn’t noticed it before. I wondered if she’d taken it off today or
last week
when I was in the hospital. I hated it when things happened and I
didn’t notice
them.
“Are you going to
have a good
day, today?” Mother asked. She sat down across the table from me. She
was
wearing a different perfume, it was lighter than the cheap shit she
usually put
on.
“If someone doesn’t
hit me, I
will.”
“Geoff, I want you
to know we
all want to help you.”
“I know. It’s just
hard being
sixteen. I didn’t think it’d be this hard being a teenager.”
“It doesn’t get any
easier.”
“Did you call
Doctor
Randall?”
“You know I had to.”
“Yes, but Sam is
nice.”
“We talked a little
while
this morning before Doctor Randall came. He’s a nice boy.”
“Yes.”
“Timothy, uh,
Doctor Randall
said he might authorize Sam to visit you now and then. You’re certainly
welcome
to go out there.”
“Timothy?”
“We’re dating.”
“Oh.”
“Is that okay?”
“He doesn’t seem,
uh, well,
he seems younger than you, not that I’m saying you’re old.”
“He’s only two
years younger
than me.”
“But, that mean’s
he’s …”
“A lot older than
you
thought?”
“Yeah, but it’s
okay with me.
Are you happy?”
“He makes me laugh.”
“You said that
about Dad.”
“Yes, but Timothy
isn’t
working and drinking himself to death.”
“Do you guys, I
mean, oh
forget it. It’s none of my business.”
“No, we don’t. And,
no it is
none of your business what we do. I don’t need your permission.”
“Can I get a lock
for my
door? I was thinking that something might happen in my bedroom you
wouldn’t
want Sally seeing, not that anything is going to happen.”
“I think that is a
great
idea, Geoff. I’ll get one and you can put it in. It’s time you start
learning
some household repair skills. You’re going to be on your own, soon
enough.”
“I’ll have to get
Tim to
help, he’s more mechanically inclined.”
“Does Tim know
about Sam?”
“No.”
“Don’t hurt him,
he’ll never
forgive you.”
“I know.”
Tim was late
getting to our
house. He usually came for breakfast, but he hardly had time for a
glass of
orange juice. He was too chipper for me, bubbly. Our kiss was long,
mellow. Our
embrace lingered.
“You boys better
get to
school,” Mother said. It’s nice having a mother who doesn’t care her
youngest
son is gay. I have enough problems without having that one.
“You didn’t call
last night,”
Tim said sitting down with his orange juice.
“I had a friend
over. Someone
I met at the hospital.”
“Sam Black? About
your
height, seems uninterested in everything.”
“How do you know
him?”
“He lives a couple
houses
from us on the lake. I know he was at the same hospital as you. I
figured you’d
met.”
“But, he doesn’t go
to North Park.”
“St. Xaviers.”
“Oh. Catholic, huh?”
“Smart, too, like
you.”
“Oh.”
“Did he spend the
night?”
I looked at him. He
was
getting to know me enough to ask the right questions. I wanted to get
to know
him just as well, but I was having too much trouble figuring myself out
to
concentrate on someone else.
“You didn’t tell me
about
sitting at the Fairy Table,” I said touching the bruise on my face. I
iced it
when I got home, but it was still blatantly noticeable from the broken
capillaries.
“Sorry, I didn’t
think. When
Monica asked if you’d be there, I just assumed you’d wait for us. Dick
Connor’s
an SOB, but my dad knows his so he’s never hassled me. Are you okay?”
“If I wasn’t so
doped up on
this drug, I’d be embarrassed, but Billy wants to get me into some sort
of
fighting school.”
“Billy?”
“Yeah, it’s on the
nameplate
on his desk: William A. “Billy” Washington, Boy’s Vice Principal.”
“Billy? That’s
funny.”
“I wouldn’t make
too much of
it. I saw the paddle, too.”
“Is it as big as
they
say?”
“Bigger. Like an
oar. It’d
knock your tiny ass to the floor.”
“Geoffrey!”
“Sorry. Buttocks.
Is that
okay?”
“But, you’re not a
fighter.”
“I told him, but he
said he’s
going to call Doctor Randall. He knows about Doctor Randall.”
“Tim, would you
like some
cinnamon toast to take with you?” Mother asked.
“No thank you, Mrs.
Johnson.
I’m okay. Come on Geoff, we’ll be late, again.”
I got up, put my
bowl in the
dishwasher, took my antidepressant, picked up my school books, and
walked out
the door. I stood on the back porch for a moment, then walked back into
the
kitchen. Mother was waiting. I kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll try to have a
good
day,” I said. “I hope you have one, too.”
“Thank you, honey,”
Mother
said. “Tim, you have a good day, too.”
“Thanks Mrs.
Johnson. Come on
Geoff let’s go find out if they missed us last night.”
“Yeah, right.”
Tim pulled out of
our
driveway and headed straight down to Oak
Park Boulevard. Traffic
was still
light enough for him to
turn left
at One Hundred Thirteenth. When he passed our turn of at One Hundred
Thirtieth,
I knew something was up. When he turned into War
Memorial Park, I knew something was
definitely up. I
looked at his
brown jeans. Brown jeans, that was it!
We circled around
the
Doughboy and turned into the Arboretum. Tim turned onto Grand
Fir Lane and after a few seconds we came to
the first
parking
area, it was full of cars. Well, only three, but there were only five
parking
spaces. The next one was full, too. At the next one, there was a man in
a suit
standing outside his car. He was short with a big middle-aged gut
hanging over
his belt. At the next one, there was only one other car. Tim pulled
into the
end space and turned off the Coupe. He turned to me and smiled.
“Your choice, in
here, or in
the redwood grove,” Tim said. He slid across the seat and his hand was
on my
zipper. He had me out and in his mouth before I could answer.
“Backseat,” I
whispered. I
opened my door and Tim followed me, closing the door behind him.
As soon as I lay
down, he was
on top of me, his mouth and hands working their magic. I reached up
above me
and unbuckled his belt. I had to hurry. Not only was I already on the
edge from
having Sam sleep with me last night, I knew Tim was probably fighting
to keep
himself in check. I pulled his jeans and briefs down all at once and
put my
lips over his erection. He let go in a sudden, shuddering orgasm
filling my
mouth with his warm come. I shut my eyes and felt my spine tingling. My
cock
burned with excitement and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I gave in
and
released myself into Tim. He was ravenous, taking me deep into his
throat,
kneading the juice from my balls with his fingers.
I heard a car door
slam and I
froze. Tim wasn’t moving, either. I looked up as Tim raised himself
toward the
rear window to look out. Then I saw the dribbles of come on the side
window. I
nudged Tim. He looked over toward the other car. I heard it start up.
“Dirty old fucker,”
Tim said.
“The bastard was watching.”
“Had a good show.”
“Yeah, but he needs
a better
hobby.”
“Come here, I
didn’t get
enough.”
He lowered his
still erect
dick into my mouth and began to slowly thrust, fucking my mouth. It
didn’t take
long. It never takes Tim long. He was off almost before I was ready,
but stayed
in my mouth long afterwards allowing me to caress his soft white ass.
“We’d better go,”
Tim said,
pulling out of me. “I’d like to stay here all day, but you have classes
to make
up.”
“I’d like to make
up with
you,” I said, pulling him back down on top of me and reaching for his
softening
cock with my mouth. “It’s been too long.”
“Did you do it with
Sam?” Tim
asked. He got to his knees and pulled up his briefs and brown jeans.
“What’s that
supposed to
mean?”
“You know what I’m
asking,”
Tim said, putting my dick back where it belonged and zipping up my
pants. He
leaned down and kissed me hard and deep.
“No, not last
night.”
“In the hospital?”
“Once, but I fell
asleep
before I did anything,” I said, following him to the front seat. He
started the
Coupe and backed out into the lane.
“You fell asleep?”
“Yeah, they keep
you pretty
drugged up in those places. I was still fairly dopey. I guess he slept
with me
every night, though.”
“He’s gay?”
“I don’t know, but
he likes
sleeping with me.”
“God, Sam Black
gay. Are all
you smart guys gay?”
“Don’t know.
Haven’t met too
many.”
“What about your
honors
class?”
“Hardly any of them
are as
smart as me, just good studiers. If you studied as hard as some of
them, you
could be in honors, too.”
“Yeah, but I don’t
want to go
to some smart-ass college. I’m going Navy ROTC. I can get that at North
Park College.”
“You don’t want to
go to New
York with
me?”
“New York?”
“Your Uncle Jerry
wants me to
go to Columbia.”
“Yeah, he went
there after
the war. You haven’t called him, yet.”
“Are you checking
up on me?”
I asked. I don’t know, but Tim seemed to be taking a little too much
interest
in me. I wasn’t certain what his motivations were, but he seemed
controlling;
or, maybe, I was being paranoid, again. Psycho Geoff Johnson can’t
trust
anyone, even his best, well, almost best friend.
“No, I’m just
concerned about
you. I care. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Yeah, okay, if
that’s the way
you want it. I wondered if Sam sucked cock, too. Maybe he was a fucker,
like Kiel. His dick felt kind of big
that night in the
hospital
when he was fucking between my thighs. It felt good being held in his
arms, his
hand on my cock. Too bad I fell asleep.
How was I going to
see Sam
with Tim wanting to be with me so much? I wondered if Sam kissed. Some
guys
didn’t. Tim was never kissed once until I did it to him. All those
years with
Stevie fucking him and never kissed. Kind of made one think about what
kind of
weirdo Stevie really was. But, Stevie did kiss me, but not a lot. My
lips were
around his dick more than on his lips. Maybe Stevie didn’t like to kiss
guys.
Oh, well, he was dead and I had Tim, and now, maybe, Sam too.
---------------------
I don’t know why I
was on the
bus heading toward Uncle Jerry’s apartment on Beacon Hill. Tim was at a
University football game with
his dad. UCLA was in town
to beat the local losers and Tim said he had to go, something about a
business
deal his dad was working on. I don’t know what role Tim was playing,
but he
couldn’t get out of it and I couldn’t get out to see Sam, so I didn’t
have
anything to do. I’d called Uncle Jerry earlier in the week about
fighting
lessons Vice Principal Washington was trying to get me in and, well, I
ended up
getting invited over to Uncle Jerry’s.
It’s not that I was
scared of
going to his apartment, I was scared of being alone with him. I still
expected
him to put some kind of move on me and I didn’t know if I could resist
the
temptation to have sex with an older man. I thought of all the
experience he’d
already had, all the ways one man could love another, all the things I
was
bound to find out for myself over the next few years or so, but to
learn
everything now when I was just sixteen, that would be something. Only I
was
scared shitless that very thing might happen.
The bus ride up to
the
apartment took nearly two hours and went through some areas of Seattle
where I was, other than the driver, the only
white
person on the bus. I sat in my seat trying to look inconspicuous as the
bus
filled, emptied, then filled again with various minorities. I wasn’t
used to
being amongst these people. Other than Vice Principal Washington and
the
housekeeper at Tim’s house, I never saw any black people in North Park.
We had a Chinese family who lived on our
block, but no one talked to
them. I knew they had kids, but they were younger than me so I never
had any
reason to go near their house.
When I finally got
off across
the street from Uncle Jerry’s apartment, the bus was nearly full of
little old
ladies who I couldn’t place. Most of them spoke some sort of foreign
language,
but I couldn’t pick up enough to get an idea where in the world they
came from.
There was Spanish, English, and this other language in their speech,
all
jumbled together. I was going to ask someone what they were talking,
but that
would require courage and I didn’t have any of that. I stood on the
curb
watching the bus pull out into traffic wishing I wasn’t so pathetic I
couldn’t
talk to strangers.
“Geoff, come on in
boy,”
Uncle Jerry said. “Let me get your coat. Did you have any trouble
getting
here?”
I told him about
the bus ride
and the people on the bus when I got off.
“Filipinos.”
“What?”
“Filipinos, they’re
from the Philippines. They
live all around here. Nice people. My
secretary’s parents are from Leyte. Didn’t you talk to anyone?”
“No, I don’t talk
to other
people,” I said looking at the floor.
“Come on, let’s get
comfortable in the living room,” Uncle Jerry said putting his arm
across my
back, his hand on my shoulder.
I flinched from his
touch.
“Steady boy, I’m
not wearing
my foot. You’re going to have to support me.”
I looked down at
the empty
pants leg. It felt weird having his hand on my shoulder. My dad had
done the
same thing a lot of times and it never meant anything to me, but I was
expecting something from this man, so I guess it was only natural I’d
jump at
his touch.
“Sorry,” I said. He
hopped as
I steadied him, walking slowly to the living room. I sat in the sofa
and was
not surprised he sat next to me. He put his hand behind me and began to
slowly
massage my neck.
“Still think I’m
going to
suck your dick, or something?”
“Or, something.”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes, no, I don’t
know.”
“You know what
jailbait is?”
“Yeah, me.”
“Yeah, you.”
“But, Tim said you
sucked
Stevie.”
“That stupid
bastard? Yeah, I
gave him a blow job. Probably the worst one he ever had, fucking
straight
bastard.”
“What?”
“The kid wasn’t
queer.”
“But, he and I
were, and Tim
and him.”
“There was no Tim
and him. It
was just him fucking my nephew. What were you doing for him?”
“Sucking his dick.
He sucked
me sometimes, too.”
“All the time?”
“No, not all the
time, but he
said, fucking asshole was using me, too. Damn it, I thought he was my
best
friend. Fuck! Everyone I’ve talked to has said what a bastard Stevie
was. Do
you know what that makes me feel like?”
“Like you’re a
pushover?”
“Yeah, and probably
worse.
Fuck!”
“Do you want to?”
“What?”
“Fuck.”
“You can’t do that.”
“You’d be surprised
what I
can and can’t do. Come to my boudoir the spider said to the fly.”
And, before I could
say
Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue, I was on his bed on my
back, naked,
with a pillow under my ass. He was naked, too. Other than the missing
limbs, he
looked normal from the back.
“What do you like?
Long and
thick, long and narrow, short and thick, or something like Tim’s?”
“Tim’s is too
small. Why do
you ask?”
“Sexual aids,”
Uncle Jerry
said turning around. “Dildos. Strap-ons. Tim’s family business. How
about this
one, not too long, not too thick, just right for a beginner.”
He put it on and
suddenly he
was a guy with an erection. He hopped over to the bed and got on his
knees.
“Hand me the lube,
it’s in
that drawer. The surgeons left a bit of nerve right where my clitoris
would be
if I wanted to become a woman, but I didn’t. If I put this on right,
I’ll get a
wonderful sensation as I’m doing you. Do I have to tell you how to do
this?”
“No, I’ve had that
lesson.”
“Mind telling me
where?”
“County psych ward.”
“Nice place for a
teenager,
fucking county bureaucrats. They should all be taken out and shot for
all the
good they do anyone.”
“We don’t have to
do this,”
Uncle Jerry said. “You can say no.”
“I’m all lubed up
and ready
to go,” I said. “Long and slow.”
“Long and slow.”
Jerry was taking a
shower. I
dropped the uncle and he didn’t mind. I felt wonderful. I hadn’t felt
this good
in months. I knew it was wrong for me to have let him do what he did to
me, but
I didn’t care what anyone might think about a sixteen year old boy
getting
fucked my a forty year old man. I didn’t have a care in the world.
Everything
in my life had come to fruition. I was complete, whole.
I was standing on
the wrong
side of the railing on his balcony, barely holding on with my hands. I
could
see the parking lot below, nothing between me and the ground below.
Head first,
head first, I kept it going through my mind, head first. Hit bottom
with your
head and it would explode is a mass of bloody tissue, instantaneous
death. Hit
bottom with your feet and there was an agonizing moment before death
hopefully
took over as every bone in your body slowly shattered from the impact.
Head
first.
I was at peace.
“Oh, shit!”
A hand was around
my neck. I
was falling backwards. I briefly saw Jerry’s face before my head
slammed into
the concrete balcony turning off awareness.
I woke up briefly.
I was in
an ambulance. I could hear Jerry talking. The attendant looked at me,
smiled. I
smiled, then everything was gone.
I woke up in the
emergency
room. I saw one of the doctors who fucked me at County. The fucker was
cutting
my pants off. A little bump on the head and the pervert had to get his
jollies
looking at a teenager’s little dick. I wanted to scream at the bastard.
I saw
Doctor Randall talking to Jerry.
I woke up in a
room. Eighth
floor County General,
you can tell by the numbers on the outlets,
fixtures, TVs, beds, and the paint on the walls. Eighth floor was
green. It was
the only medical pediatric floor that was green. I was in a two bed
private
room. The other kid was eight, maybe ten. His parents were hovering
over him.
He looked kind of out of it. There was an IV in his arm.
I turned my head
back to the
other side. Mother was sitting in a chair. Doctor Randall was talking
to her.
He looked pissed. Sam was looking out the window. He looked at me and
smiled.
“I want you to know
I’m
upset,” Doctor Randall said. I looked towards him and could see he was
pissed.
“I expected a little more responsibility on your part.”
My head hurt. I
didn’t say
anything.
“Geoff, Doctor
Randall is
talking to you,” Mother said. I didn’t look at her. I was still staring
at Sam.
He was still smiling.
“Yeah, well, he
hasn’t asked
me a question,” I said.
“Don’t get smart
with me,
boy,” Mother said. She was mad. She only called me boy when she was mad.
“Geoff? Your mother
wants to
take you home,” Doctor Randall said. I turned my head to look at him.
“Personally, I prefer you coming out to the hospital for a few days,
but I’m
going to let her take you home.”
“Thank you,” I
said, smiling.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what made me do it. I was in the apartment,
then I was
outside, standing on the wrong side of the railing. Honest, I don’t
know why.”
“It’s okay, Geoff,”
Doctor
Randall said. “Sometimes those things happen. I’m going to change your
medication, give you something that will help you in those situations.
You’ll
stay here tonight, then go home tomorrow.”
“Doctor Randall?”
“Yes, Geoff.”
“One of the men who
attacked
me in the psych ward was in the emergency room. He cut off my pants.”
“Okay, Geoff, I’ll
take care
of it. Now, I want you to get some sleep.”
“Can Jerry come to
see me?”
“He’s out in the
hall. I’ll
tell Sam to have him come in when we leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mother kissed me on
the lips.
She’s never done that. It was a light, familial kiss, something you
might give
a dead relative. She followed Doctor Randall out of the room.
“Your head’s
bandaged,” Sam
said, walking over to my bed. “I guess you took quite a hit. Doctor Tim
said
you have stitches.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because Doctor Tim
thinks I
might be able to help you.”
“Tim told me about
you.”
“Tim is nice. I
like him. I
like you better.”
“Tim might be my
best
friend.”
“Okay, I’ll be your
lover.”
He leaned over the bed and kissed me. His lips lingered on mine. His
hand held
my chin.
“Will you be at my
house
tomorrow?”
“For a while when
Doctor Tim
comes in.”
“Okay.”
Jerry came in. He
looked very
sad, very concerned. If he had a dick, I would’ve sucked it.
“I’m sorry to have
caused you
so much trouble,” I said. I took his hand in mine and brought it to my
lips. I
kissed it. “You saved my life.”
“That’s okay,
Geoff, I’m used
to it,” he said. “I usually deal with veterans who can’t accept what
bullets
and shrapnel have done to their bodies. A lot of them try the same
thing you
did. I’m used to saving lives.”
“That wasn’t my
first time,”
I said, still holding his hand. I wanted him to have a dick. I wanted
it in my
mouth. I wanted his dildo in my ass. I wanted his lips on mine.
“I know, I talked
to Doctor
Randall,” he said. “I’m going to be helping you, too. I guess there are
a lot
of us who want to see you make it.”
I beckoned him down
to me,
close.
“Will you fuck me,
again?” I
whispered. “I liked it long and slow.”
“Anytime, kid,
anytime.”
“Thank you.”
I lay my head back
against
the pillow and closed my eyes. I dreamt of a bridge, a high bridge of
above a
city. I dreamt of falling into a meadow of flowers. Baby rabbits were
playing
around the place where I fell. I smelled the sweet scent of wild
flowers. A
dick, an erection, was thrusting into me. I screamed. I screamed. I
screamed.
I woke up and
Doctor Randall
was holding my hand.
“I dreamt that …” I
started
to say.
“It was no dream,
Geoff. We
have an armed guard outside your door. Concussion or not, we’re getting
you home
tonight.
Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I didn't care, I was such a loser, such a pathetic
loser. I
deserved to die. The world was going to be better off when I finally
got the
nerve to let go and plummet to my death.