WHEN LAMBS BECOME WOLVES
By Nil Street
This story depicts a relationship between teenager males. If you are not of legal age to read such material or if it is not legal for you to read it for whatever reason, I ask you to leave now.
This is a work of fiction. The events and the characters are only and completely parts of the author's imagination and must be viewed as such. No human, no sheep and no wolf was harmed during the writing of this story.
This story is more about people getting to know each other, learning how to interact with each other, how to trust each other and also a story about love than it is a porn story. It may depict some sexual scenes and maybe not, it will all depend about the feelings I have while writing it. So if you were looking for a quick wank, I suggest you find another story.
The pseudonym Nil Street and the story When Lambs Become Wolves, along with its French version Quand les agneaux deviennent loups are protected by the international laws of copywrights. Special permissions may be granted for posting this story on other sites but as I don't necessarily want my writings to be associated to some of them, please be kind and ask before you do any criminal act you may regret in the future.
Now on to the story...
"Whoa!" Kevin exclaimed, seeing as my whole body stiffened and struggled to escape Shawn's grip on me. "There's no need to panic here," he added, putting a hand on my shoulder and staring straight into my eyes. "I'm cool with you," he said softly before grabbing the frying pan and running water into it. "I'd already guessed it anyway. It seemed as though you were both attached by the hip or something yesterday, and as I already knew about Shawn being gay..." he trailed with a little shrug of his shoulders.
"You knew about him?" I asked, a little bit confused. I was not even totaly convinced about the fact that Shawn was indeed gay myself so this bit of information appeared to be a little weird to me. I hadn't slept well the night before and my brains were only starting to register and digest what had happened there a few minutes before.
"They all know about me," Shawn said, taking a hold of my hand and looking me in the eyes. "I told them I was gay a while ago." Now I was shocked.
"What?" Kevin asked, seeming confused. "Shawn, don't tell me your parents don't know you two are together already! You know they wouldn't mind."
"Who wouldn't mind what?" Mr. Matheson said, entering the kitchen. I tensed again and Shawn rolled his eyes. "Hi guys!" Mr. Matheson cheered us before serving himself a cup of espresso. "It stinks in here!" he muttered.
"I said you wouldn't mind Shawn telling you about the both of them lovebirds being together," Kevin said, as if everything should have been obvious. To me it felt as though a bomb had suddenly blew up somewhere inside of my head and my eyes went as wide as saucers.
"Of course!" Mr. Matheson replied absentedly while grabbing the milk from the refrigerator. "Shawn, how comes your eggs are burnt?" he asked out of the blue.
"What?" Now my head was spinning with the overflow of information that were gathering in my mind.
"I'll make some more," Shawn let out bluntly.
"Wait, wait, wait," I said, holding my head with both of my hands. It caught the three of them's attention and I suddenly felt under a bright spotlight. "How did you know... I didn't..." I was lost for words.
"What?" Mr. Matheson asked, a grin spreading on his face. "It is not as if it were a big secret, really. You're always so close together you know... I just assumed..."
Realization suddenly appeared on Kevin's face.
"You mean..." His eyes were travelling between me and Shawn who was seemingly busy breaking eggs with a shy grin on his face. "You mean it was your first kiss?" I could feel my whole face turning a raging shade of red and my ears about ready to explode. When I looked over at Shawn, I saw his was well on its way too. "Oh my God! So yesterday I was just assuming...?"
"I didn't even know William was... you know..." Shawn mumbled, his eyes fixed on his business of scrambling eggs. Kevin started laughing hysterically and Mr. Matheson looked confused for a moment.
"What is this all about?" he asked.
"Iann, I think I've..." Kevin struggled between laughs and coughs, "I think I've just interrupted their first... their first kiss here. And yesterday... yesterday, I had assumed that they were together... Oh my God!" He laughed even harder. "I guess I'm lucky I didn't say anything back then... Oh no! I would've felt so embarrassed of putting my feet into my mouth that way!"
"Do you," I mumbled, "do you have a gaydar or something?" I asked out of confusion. How could he have assumed I was gay? The simple fact that I was short and thin couldn't have meant that I was. A lot of very straight guys were my height and weight. Besides, even though this could have been any indication, my body being tight and very toned from my years of swimming and playing tennis, and the fact that I'd never thought I was acting girly in any way... well... I was perplexe.
"What are you talking about?" Kevin asked. "A sixth sense or something?" I nodded. "Nah! Not at all. I think mankind has enough trouble dealing with five senses as it is. I don't believe in that shit."
"Well bats have it though," I said.
"No-no-no. Not at all. A radar is only a way for capting waves, exactly the same as your ears do." He was right, of course. Hearing him say that, I remembered my biology teacher saying that as bats were almost blind, they were finding their ways by the ultrasounds emitted by their vocal cords, which rebounced on objects before coming back and being interpreted with their ears. There were no magic involved in it, only physics. It worked the same with radio frequences. So I started wondering maybe... But as if hearing my thoughts, Kevin aded quickly, "It's not like that, William. You don't have any swish or anything like that. It's just that you two being so close together all the time, shit! he always had his arm over your shoulders and seemed so protective of you... and as I already knew about Shawn being gay, well I guess that my brains just assumed that two and two made four."
"What?" Mr. Matheson said. "Wait a minute here... So you two were not together already?"
"Oh jeez!" Shawn interjected.
Breakfast was wonderful and seeing how good Shawn was at cooking it, I was eager to show him my own culinary skills. We laughed a lot during breakfast as it seemed as though everybody in the house had thought they had figured us out long ago. So it made me wonder why in hell the Matheson family had felt it so common for me, who in their heads was Shawn's boyfriend, to sleep in his bed. It could have gotten pretty obscene in there and they didn't even care?
I was still a bit concerned about the whole discovery I'd made in the morning when I volunteered for washing the dishes, along with Liz. Mrs. Matheson had started complaining but left us to our business with a give up look as Liz literally waved her out of the kitchen.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," she said after a couple of minutes spent in silence while water was filling the sink. "I guess I tried to push you to bed with my brother... I was just having a little fun at his expense."
"But why? I mean, if you thought we were together, why would you want us to sleep together?"
"Better here than on the back seat of a car, don't you think? That's what I was trying to remind him while pulling his leg a little bit." I was not totaly convinced about that. "Listen," she sighed. "I've not talked about that for a very long time and there is not a lot of people who know about it. But when I was about your age, I had assumed my parents would be very upset by the mere idea of me being sexually involved with someone under their roof. And I was right. They had both made it pretty clear that I was not welcomed to do so. But I was a teenager and not really agreeing with the adults' point of view on that matter, so one evening, me and my boyfriend of the time did it on the back seat of his Civic. We thought we were pretty safe as we had found this secluded place by the river... But we still were out in the open. And in the middle of that, a police cruiser that was doing its round found us. We got lucky they didn't press charges, but as I was minor back then, they had to tell my parents about us being busted having sex in the open in a very public area. That was traumatisingly humiliating for me and also for my parents who had forgotten that they were teenagers not so far before."
"Oh my God!" I hissed.
"Well the police who found us had a very long conversation with me and the parents about how it would be way better for me to be in a safe environment, which involved privacy, when I wanted to be intimate with somebody. I guess the thing I meant by proposing you sleep together yesterday was so you don't make the same mistake as me back then. I wanted you to know it was okay. I didn't want to imply that you would've had... you know... in that room as it was, and still is, none of my business, and would actually be way too much information as we're talking about my own brother here, but if you did, I wanted you both to know it was way better done behind the security of a closed door than in a parking lot on the backseat of your Jeep." As I didn't answer, she continued. "I like you," she said, smearing foam over my cheek, which got a giggle from me. "I think you'll be good for my little brother." I looked at her with a grin on my face. "I hate to sound like a stupid teacher here," she said, waving her hand in front of her face dismissively. "I know they taught Sex Ed back in fifth grade and in Biology all around in high school, and that with all the information you can find at school or on the Net, you really don't need any of my advices about that. But they never mention the closed door matter as they rather give lectures about abstinence, as if teenagers would listen to them... Shit!, I sound like my mother sometimes," she sighed and smiled. "Be good to one another and I'll be very happy." That said, she went back to wiping plates.
I couldn't believe we had talked about that together as I barely knew her. Well they say sometimes talking about things with strangers seemed easier. I was actually glad that she had told me about her experience. It made me feel as though we were speaking on an equal level instead of these embarrassing talks we sometimes hear about when parents lecture their kids as if they were toddlers, obviously enjoying the fact that they are embarrassing them to the point of psychological humiliation and accepting no complaints from them. Liz didn't want to talk about preservatives with me as she knew we had been lectured about them back in primary school, and that there were so many information on the Internet and on leaflets that we could find at the school and in any drugstore. She had just wanted to give me the only information that was nowhere to be found, the one that implied the way things worked in that house where she had been raised. If we ever happened to want to have an intimate moment together, me and Shawn, shit! I couldn't believe I was looking so far ahead, well if, and I mean if we were ever wanting to become intimate, well we were welcome to do so behind the security of a closed door in Shawn's room, inside the Matheson's house. Nobody would ever barge in. They were way too much respectful of each other, unlike all these people at the manor.
I was really starting to feel very comfortable with these people I barely knew two months before. The conversation with Mr. Matheson the night before had made me understand his late behaviour, this talk with Elisabeth had been very enlightening and the cream on the crop, well... Shawn had kissed me.
It was almost noon when I decided to call home to cancel my tennis lesson. I had never done that before, so it was to be another first in my will for freedom.
"You may not," Steven had said, seemingly leaving no place for argumentation. "You are expected home by one o'clock."
"Well it will have do because I'm not coming home right now."
"Mr. Gallagher will be very upset if you do not show for your lesson."
"He's not my boss," I said bluntly. "He is my coach. And right now, I don't feel like playing tennis. Not with him anyway. I'm having fun right now and I won't be the party breaker. If I get to play tennis today, it will be for pleasure and not just so someone can point out what I do wrong and what I do right."
"I will have to tell your father," Steven threatened me. He sounded like a broken record. This used to be his own way to make me do whatever he wanted. Not anymore.
"Go ahead!" I sneered. "What will he do? Come home and be a father for once?"
"Do not talk about your father that way, young man!" he scolded me.
"Or what?" I asked, a loud laugh escaping my throat. It felt so good to finally find the power to say what I felt instead of constantly caving. "You are nothing more than an employee in this nut house!" I said, trying to see just how far I could push my luck. "I may not come back home tonight, and as it's better to be safe than sorry, you'd better call Ms. Forrester and tell her I won't make it to swim practice tomorrow." With that, I ended the call and turned my cell off for good measure.
"Did I hear right?" Shawn almost whispered in my ear while wrapping his arms aroud me from behind. We were in the back yard, watching Kevin cleaning the pool with the vacuum.
"Did hear right what?" I mumbled, as I felt myself melt into Shawn's body.
"You said that you may stay another night," he whispered with his lips touching my ears, which sent shivers through my whole body. It felt weird but I felt safe.
"I didn't expect you to hear that. I'm sorry I made it sound like I was inviting myself here another night. I said that so he would back off."
"So you didn't really plan to stay here with me?" he asked, sounding a little hurt.
"I don't want to impose."
"You do not. You are welcome here anytime. My father told you yesterday... and I tell you now. Now where were you planning to go?"
"I don't know. Maybe book a room at the Bentley..."
"So you don't want to stay here with me tonight?" he whispered.
"Of course I want," I whispered back. As I said that, I felt his arms tighten around me.
"Stay..." he whispered again. I nodded.
"Hey Shawn!" came a joyful voice from the neighbor's patio. We both looked at the same time to see a middle aged woman hanging bed sheets on the clothes line. I started to feel a little panicky but when I felt Shawn's arms tightening securely around me, preventing me from going, I stopped struggling. "How is your mother doing?" she asked, seemingly not caring about her neighbor's son's arms wrapped around another guy.
"She's great, Mrs. Hartford!" he answered. "Me think she'll try out for marathon this afternoon." The woman laughed.
"Well then tell her I'm back from our camping trip will you? Tell her I said she's too heavy for running, so she should come and have coffee with me instead," she continued, her smile never faltering.
"I will," Shawn said waving at the woman who waved back before going back inside of her house.
"So?" I asked, leaning into Shawn's body as he resumed his earlier position.
"So what?" he asked, shrugging his shoulder.
"It will maybe sound as if I were dense, but..."
"But you're not," Shawn interrupted me.
"But everything has gone pretty fast since this morning," I whispered, leaning the back of my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes, basking in this new feeling I was terrorized at the mere idea could come to an end. It actually felt very good to be in his arms. It was another first for me. Not only being in Shawn's arms, but in anybody's arms for that matter.
"You think I'm going too fast?" Shawn asked with something that sounded like hurt in his voice. I was afraid he might let go of me, so I caught his arms with both my hands to hold him back.
"It's not what I meant," I replied. "I meant you... I'm still trying to realize that you kissed me this morning."
"Well you kissed me right back if I remember right," he whispered playfuly in my hair.
"And then, Kevin came into the kitchen, then your father came into the kitchen, then everybody else came into the kitchen... We didn't have time for... you know... talking about it together."
"How do you feel about it?" Shawn whispered again before kissing the hair on the back of my left ear.
"I want to be with you..." I whispered back while moving my head forward and down, giving him better access so I could feel more of his lips on that very sensitive spot.
"But what happens with us being friends?"
"We are friends," he murmured, making me purr like a cat in heat. " We are friends and nothing will ever change that. But I want more of you."
"Isn't that odd?"
"What? Being friends and boyfriends?" he asked, putting a strong accent on the word 'and'. I nodded. "See, in the word boyfriends, there is also the word friends. I think it has to be included 'cause if we want to be comfortable together as boyfriends, we first need to be the best friends in the world. Look at them," Shawn said, pointing through the livingroom window where his parents were playing chess. "They are the best of friends. That's why they are so happy together. Friends, lovers, partners in crime for everything... and the worse enemies at chess," he snickered.
"It's so sad my parents are not like yours..."
"I'm sorry," Shawn whispered, squeezing me in his arms.
"Don't be," I muttered. "I have you now."
"So..." he trailed, "do you want us to be?"
"I'm scared," I said.
"You?" I asked him, turning in his arms so our eyes would meet.
"Yeah," he said grinning shyly.
"You don't seem to be the scared type."
"Well I am."
"What are you scared of?"
"You, for instance."
"Me?" I was stunned. "How could I scare you?"
"I've wanted to kiss you for a long time now. I know it must seem weird, since I didn't know you much at the time... well as we were becoming friends, I became more afraid of what would happen if you came to know how I felt."
"How were you feeling?"
"At first, I thought it was infatuation, but then, as we were becoming closer, I started to realize that there was more to it than that. So the infatuation became a crush and then my feelings for you increased so much that I wanted to know you, to touch you, to smell you. So I was attracted to you, but even more, we were becoming fast friends. I'm still unsure about things that await us in the future but I know one thing, and it's that I like you enough to want to try it with you.
I did stay at the Matheson's a second night in a row. As I entered the room after a shower and found Shawn already in bed, his mystery eyes boring through mine, I was so nervous my whole body was shaking. Shawn didn't have a shirt on and I was excited by the sight of his arms and chest. But I was also terrified at the mere idea of not knowing what was expected of me there in this bed behind the closed door of his room. Words from my earlier conversation with Liz kept coming back to me and I was wondering if my sleeping with his brother that night, as we both now knew about our mutual attraction to each other meant I was expected to do something I really was not ready to do. Not that this idea of finding more of Shawn's body was not appealing to me, but the simple fact that this whole day had already been filled with so many firsts for me, I was wondering where my limits were. I was shaking so hard that if I hadn't taken care of business on my trip to the bathroom, I think I might have peed myself.
"Are you cold?" Shawn asked with concern written all over his face while staring right into my eyes. "You're shivering. Come here," he whispered, pushing the bed covers so I could join him. I could see the top of his white briefs and I shivered some more. Seeing my reluctancy at jumping into bed with him, he softly said, "Hey! I just want to cuddle with you," which lifted a part of my nervousness so I slid under the covers and put my head on the pillow. "May I kiss you?" he pleaded, his glimmering eyes never leaving mine as he carefully placed a hand on my shoulder, which brought a shy smile to my lips.
"Yeah..." I whispered, but didn't wait for his move and tentatively brushed my lips to his while my hand found its way around his back.
We didn't make out for hours unlike what we sometimes read in some cheap novels. We kissed shyly and simply felt comfortable in our embrace. I could feel, by the increasing rate of Shawn's heartbeat, that he probably was as nervous as I was. As my tremors were slowly fading and I found myself finally relaxing in his arms, comfortably snuggled against each other with my forehead to his heart, my whole body became numb, my eyelids became heavy along with my breath. We kept silent, both probably afraid a single word might destroy our magic moment. A kiss delivered to the top of my head told me Shawn would protect me whatever happened and so I slowly faded into a relaxed slumber.
Over the next month, I cancelled trainings and other sessions with teachers so many times that, by the day my parents died, they had long stopped bothering showing up at the manor. During that period in time, I've slept over at the Matheson's four or five times a week, comfortably nested in the arms of my prince charming for whom my feelings never ceased to increase. We never said "I love you", afraid as we were that these three words wouldn't feel quite right. We were still in the beginning of our relationship, and even though some people poured them to every sauces and for any reasons, I didn't want them to feel less than what I was expecting them to. I had never loved anybody in my whole life. I had never felt loved by anybody either, not even the whole parental love some people take for granted. Not even the fake and hypocritical love some show when visiting family while wishing they were elsewhere.
It was the first time I had invited Shawn at the manor after my birthday. After breakfast, I had suggested a tennis game and as the public courts were packed on this bright and sunny Saturday morning, I had driven the Jeep to the manor. As we were surrounding the Three Ponds Golf Club, I could see police cars parked by the entrance of the house and tried to remember if I had seen my face on the milk box that morning.
They weren't there for me being found missing.
We didn't play.
When the agents said that they had both died instantly from the choc of hitting the ground, it felt to me as though they were talking about some family acquaintances instead of my mother and father. Oh! don't think I wasn't shocked. I was not that insensitive. Far from it actually. Because shocked I was. I felt my hands freeze as they became blue, my whole body stiffened as it had done several times while seeing all the cruelties we Americans did to Iraqis in our attempts at ruling the world, my eyes couldn't focus anymore and my breathing became hard. But I didn't cry.
Since they had died under nebulous circumstances, a thourough investigation and an autopsy were to be completed. Shawn stayed with me at the manor all this time and his parents came regularly to check on me. My head was spinning a thousand miles a minute about what was to come, the burial, the reading of the will, my request for emancipation, my will to get rid of the manor, where I couldn't remember a single memory I could cherrish other than the day Shawn came into my room to show me there was something else out there other than the plastic surgery that had been my life before him.
Aunt Laurie, as if she even deserved this title, since I had only met her briefly on a couple occasions at formal family meets when my grandfather was still alive and barely exchanged pleasantries, her looking down on me as every adults in this fake family, came by the manor on the first day of the wake. She wore one of these tight black dresses with a wide black hat complete with a net, that made her look so much alike these bitches you see on cheap soaps, and dark sunglasses along with jewellery that would make Cartier feel as though it was a cheap good store. As soon as she saw me, she faked a big smile and came to me with wide arms and kissed air around my head. She was acting so protocolar, so cheap shot, so fake, that I couldn't help but roll my eyes as her second kiss went lost somewhere behind my head. Her own demeanor came to a complete change as her eyes came into contact with the hunk that was standing a couple of inches beside me.
"Who is this?" she asked me with her gaze never leaving Shawn's body. Oh my freakin' hell! was she actually... flirting? I could almost hear her purr like a cat when she extended her hand in his direction, apparently waiting for him to kiss it as if she were some highness of the seventeenth Century. Shawn glanced at me when I quickly shook my head and mouthed the word "no", which he seemed to understand.
"I'm one of William's friends," he replied. "Shawn Matheson, madam," Shawn said, shaking her offered hand, which seemed to offend Laurie who kept a tight smile to her overly red lips not to show her annoyance. It seemed to me as though it was the first time somebody had dared refuse to kiss her hand.
"Matheson... Matheson..." Laurie repeated thoughtfully. "Are you related to Iann Matheson?" she asked him suspiciously.
"He's my father," Shawn replied proudly.
"That's... good," Laurie said. "We used to be... friends... yes, friends... when we were in high school." I was wondering how it could have been, considering that our almighty family had for generations told their children not to interact with humble mortals. I knew the only reason my father had invited Mr. Matheson to my birthday party three months before was because of his being the headmaster of the school I was attending, but my guess was that in that time he couldn't have seem very important in the eyes of my family, as he only was one of her fellow students and was by no mean rich. Mr. Matheson's father was a plumber and her mother a medical secretary. "Tell him Laurie Biltmore said hi will you?"
"Of course, madam," he said. "He should be there at the funeral home this afternoon, though," he added, to which it seemed she rather ignore.
"I will go and rest for an hour or so before we are to leave," she said dismissively. "Steven?" she started, as her heels made noisy contact with the marble floor of the lobby before disappearing from our view. She walked through the house as if she actually owned it. "Is my room ready?"
The burial was made without ceremony with people gathered inside the family mausoleum, as priests, even though some were there, were not allowed to spread their fictional stories of their supposed knowledges about heaven and hell and the myth of their hippie named Jesus, since as I said earlier, our family was agnostic. So the burial was secular. Shawn stayed by my side all the time until the reading of the will. Laurie and the headmaster had a very civil chat once, but nothing that seemed to prove any long lost friendship. Laurie spoke with him the same way she did with everybody, with a fake smile and her sunglasses never leaving her nose. Just before we were called to the library, Shawn joined his parents and went back home, sensing as though attending this law part was not his to do. I had made it clear that it would all be a big transaction where everybody came only so they could fulfil their hope of going back home richer than they had left them.
That was the last time I saw Shawn before leaving Bridgehampton.
I thought about calling him while in the room on the plane but couldn't get myself to. How could I explain to him that my parents had seen to throw me out of the manor and sent me to live at the opposite end of the state in Buffalo with an aunt I couldn't have cared less about? How could I explain to him that everything I had planned had suddenly vanished with my last hope of becoming closer to my parents? How could I explain without feeling all the humiliation it brought to me, that all of my recent attempts at finding freedom had been reverted? That all of his help, all his faith in me, had reverted to me being treated back as a toddler who couldn't fend for himself?
That is when I cried. I cried for my failure, I cried for this family I had come to appreciate, these new friends I had left behind because my controling parents who didn't even know me saw fit to think I was a puppy that was to find a new master as they wouldn't be there anymore to provide for me. I cried for the lack of faith my parents had in me, for not seeing how by never letting me have any childhood, how their careless behaviour for me had turned me into somebody who didn't need anybody so I could fend for myself. Now I would have to beg for every dime I'd need as if I were a two years old.
At the airport, there was another limousine waiting for us. It felt as though this trip was never going to end. Had I used my car, it might have taken some ten or more hours, counting some needed stops, but I would have actually had something else to think about than these thoughts that never left me.
The Maxwell's house was nowhere near as big as the manor, but still held that same austere look. It was a two stories Edwardian style brick house, very british and very noble, as used to be Dexter Maxwell, Laurie's long divorced husband. I couldn't help but understand the poor man to have left that exuberant woman, since to my rememberance, he had always been so quiet, so faded out. I couldn't point out the reason why Laurie kept using his name even after ten years.
As the car came to a halt and the driver let us out, a guy about my age came out the front door, wearing a tennis attire and a bright smile. It wasn't quite as goofy as the one that seemed to be plastered forever over Shawn's face, but it was not one of those fake smiles I was used to see on my former friends in my former neighborhood.
"Hi ma!" he cheered Laurie, giving her one of those one arm hugs Shawn had so often provided me. "Hi," he said on the same tone as he looked at me. "I'm Ethan," he continued, extending his hand.
"William," I said on a neutral tone while briefly shaking his offered hand.
"Ethan, why don't you show William to his room?" Laurie said, as if I were not there at all. That suited me. I didn't want to aknowledge her presence either. "It is late and I'm tired. I think I will go to bed."
"Of course ma," Ethan answered. "Come on." With that, he started walking toward the front door where some servants had disappeared a few moments before with our luggages.
As we travelled through the house and up the stairs, I observed the fact that even though the house was not typically Biltmore cold, it still wasn't as homey as the Matheson's bungallow in western Bridgehampton. The floors were either made of mahogany or alternated black and white tiles and the lone staircase was made of the same wood. There were what seemed to be very expensive and also very boring classical paintings along with chinese porcelain urns that were displayed in perfect symetry. In the long hall upstairs were disposed more of these paintings, reminding me of the conservative baggage of the Biltmore family who though that Jackson Pollock and Pable Picasso shouldn't have been called artists. For them, art was something that you liked when it fit with the couch. It had to be realistic, esthetic and neutral, as if paintings should only be a substitute for photography. For me, art was anything our mind could imagine. To them, art was as strict as the late Salon de Paris used to think of it when it had rejected Rembrand's, Manet's, Renoir's, Cezanne's, Van Gogh's and company's works by marking the back of their canvas with huge and bright red X's. I wouldn't even dare imagine what they would have done if they had come across some of the latest postmodern multidisciplinary installations. They would probably have bought them all so they could destroy them as soon as possible to prevent a heart attack.
"Here's your room," Ethan said, bringing me back from my reverie. As I went through the door, finding my luggages neatly deposited on the side of the bed, I saw that there was the same spirit in there as there was in the rest of the house, as if the designer had used the same model for the whole place. The room was your classical bedroom, a bit on the tiny side but seemed very comfortable. The floor was mahogany, on which laid a large Afghan carpet. Close to the window stood a brass double bed dressed in dark red pattern linnens with a bedside table on its side and a Tiffany lamp sitting on the top. On the other side of the room, between the open bathroom door and what I assumed to be the closet, was a tall mahogany dresser. There was a very classical desk and its chair along the entrance wall, an English armchair and an empty bookcase completed the decor. At least I had my own bathroom. "It's not much, I know, but it's the best we have," he explained, as if thinking that being who I was, the size of the room would matter. "This house used to be an hotel back until the seventies. The space was saved to build as many rooms as expected." What in hell was he trying to justify himself for?
"It seems common in this family to assume things they know nothing about," I sighed.
"So you like it?"
"I don't care," I simply stated before lifting both luggages and depositing them in the closet.
"You're not going to unload them?"
"No." I said bluntly.
"May I ask you why?" he pushed, the nosy brat. I decided to change the subject.
"Are there any towels in the bathroom?" I asked him.
"Yes," Ethan answered. "The bathroom is fully loaded."
"Thanks. I'm quite tired, so I guess I'll take a shower and go to bed. So if you don't mind..."
"Oh! Yes!" he said on a tone that told me he was a little hurt by my desire of being left alone. But finally, Ethan reluctantly retreated back outside, quietly closing the door behind him.
As I laid in bed trying to find some rest, I couldn't help but think about all the fact that I was here in that foreign city, in a foreign house, in a foreign room and in an equally foreign bed, and all that because my own parents never cared enough to get to know me and see by themselves that I was mature enough to live by myself. I had new friends in Bridgrhampton. I even had found someone who was special to me back there, someone who didn't even know I was here on the other side of the state. I thought about Shawn, his smiles, the dimples in his cheeks, the way he snaked his arm around my shoulders and the way he kissed me. I thought about the emptiness knowing he was so far away, the way my absence would disappoint him, the way I would feel so alone and empty for the next two years up until I turned eighteen. I thought about him finding someone else as people would obviously rush to his door, and unable to wait for my return anymore, opening it to somebody else who's life would certainly be less complicated. I cried for Shawn. I cried for me. I'd have to call him tomorrow and I dreaded this phone call.
I fell asleep as the sun rose
To be continued.
Hey there again! Done with another chapter of When Lambs Become Wolves. Now that we have buckled the circle and came back to our starting point, it is time to get to know what will happen now that William has been taken away from Shawn and the other members of the Matheson family. I hope you liked this chapter even if it was a bit slower than the other two, but it was needed.
I was overwhelmed by all the emails I've received about the two previous chapters. Thanks a lot to everybody who sent me their encouragements and appreciation, it made me float on helium literally! I'm sorry for not answering all of the emails I've received, but as I tried to answer them all, they kept on coming and coming. So to the people who have sent comments and got no answer, I'm really sorry for that. I've read them though and really appreciated them. There are also some emails I've received that I couldn't respond as they were refused by some of your email systems. So if you want to receive an answer to your message, make sure that you can receive them.
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