Date: Sat, 5 Oct 2013 21:33:27 +0100 From: Lamort DeLioncourt Subject: Bobby and I Chapter 7 Bobby and I Chapter 7 My Dad was not a big man, but he was a strong man. He lifted weights and worked out in a boxing gym several times a week. Dad grabbed Bobby by the hair and physically threw him out of the bedroom so hard; he hit the wall across the hall, knocking the breath out of him. He turned and looked at him and told him to get out of his house and never come back. Bobby jumped up, and ran for the stairs. Then, Dad turned to me. I was sitting on the bed, with no idea what to do. Dad reached over, grabbed me by the hair, and planted a powerful punch in the middle of my face. I felt my nose break and the blood rush out. After my head recoiled, he did it again. He smashed my face at least three times that I remember. I was nearly unconscious from the pain, but I felt him grab me by the back of my head and lift me off the bed to a standing position next to the bed. While he held me, he punched me repeatedly in the chest and stomach. I could hear and feel bones breaking, and I realise now that he was breaking my ribs. He dropped me to the floor, and planted a vicious kick to my groin. The pain was so severe that I passed out. When I came to, he had me by my left wrist, twisting it up behind my back and pushing me toward the stairs. When we reached the edge of the top step, he twisted my wrist even more and I heard the snap and felt it break. I was sure he was going to throw me down the stairs. Instead, he dropped me to the floor and told me I had 5 minutes to get out of his house and never come back. As far as he was concerned, I was dead to him and the family. He stomped off to his bedroom, never looking back. When I was able to think, I realised that with 5 minutes, the only thing I could do, would be to try to get out the front door. I was able to get to a standing position, and using my right hand on the banister started down the stairs. Each step was pure agony, and I doubted I could make the front door, but I had to try. I had gone down three steps when I saw Bobby coming in the front door. His Dad was with him. His Dad came up the stairs, scooped me up in his arms, and headed for the door. He took me back to his house and put me in his car. He told me he was taking me to the hospital. With great difficulty, I was able to explain to him that they knew me, and they would call my Dad. If he knew where I was, he might come after me. Bobby's Dad told me the hospital would call the police and they would protect me. I explained to him that because of how important he was, and his job with the government, calling the police would do nothing for me. I asked instead if he could drive me to my Grandmother's house. He thought I needed a hospital more, but agreed in the end. While we drove, Bobby held my head up on his lap, to try to ease my breathing. I was making gurgling sounds with every breath. When he got me to Grandmother's house, he went to the door and talked to her. She ran out to the car and looked at me. She was a strong woman, but seeing the damage Dad had inflicted on me, reduced her to tears. She turned back to the house, and shouted that she needed her car brought around front right away. The next thing I remember is lying on the back seat of her car. She and Bobby were both holding me up so I could breathe. Mr. Evans, her driver, got us to her doctor's house in record time. The doctor was waiting out front for us. He looked in at me and climbed in the front seat with Mr. Evans. He told him to go to Southampton Hospital and not to stop for anything. I next remember Mr. Evans, carrying me into the hospital. Inside the emergency room, the lights were so bright and the sounds were so loud. I heard a nurse say she couldn't get a blood pressure on me. The doctor was ordering all kinds of things, and someone was sticking me with needles. I was overwhelmed, and slipped into unconsciousness. When I came to, I was in a nice room, and I remember thinking how warm and comfortable it was. Grandma was sitting next to me on one side, and Bobby was sitting on the other. The name on the tag at the foot of the bed said Roy Smith. I lay there wondering who Roy Smith was. I then wondered why I was in his bed. It never dawned on me that they gave me a phony name so Dad wouldn't find me. When Grandma saw I was awake, she jumped up to give me a kiss, and then ran out to get a nurse. When the nurse came in, she asked how I was feeling, and when I tried to answer her, I found I couldn't speak. She smiled and told me not to worry, that because of the damage to my face, a tracheotomy had been, putting a tube in my throat, so I could breathe. She asked if I was having pain and I nodded my head yes. She said she would get me some pain medicine. She did, and as she put the medicine in my I.V., the pain went away. She told me she called the doctor, and he would be in to see me soon. When the doctor arrived, he smiled, and stood at the foot of the bed and talked to us. He explained that the punches to my face had broken my nose, and the bones surrounding my left eye. He said surgery was considered, but the doctors believed it would heal on it`s own. They realigned my nose, and packed it to allow for proper healing. Next, he explained the tracheotomy, telling us that the damage to my face was so severe that I was unable to breathe from the swelling. He said that they had cut a hole in my throat and put a breathing tube in it. He said it should be out in a day or two. Next, he explained that both bones in my left wrist were broken, apparently while forcing my arm up behind me, Dad and twisted the wrist as hard as he could, and the two bones snapped. The cast would have to be on for 5-6 weeks, but he expected it would heal nicely. The next bits of information were a little more distressing. He told me Dad had broken four of my ribs, and one had punctured my left lung, causing the lung to collapse, which is why I was making funny gurgling noises while trying to breathe in the car. He said I had a chest tube in place to drain the blood from my chest, and to keep the lung inflated. He said it would be out in a day or two. With my ribs taped, it would take about six weeks to heal, and in the mean time, every breath I took would hurt. Next, he moved on to the damage done by the kick to the groin. His face took on an extremely serious look. He told us that when dad kicked me, he had kicked me with enough force to rupture my right testicle. The doctors in the emergency room had done all they could to save it, but the testicle was beyond saving, and it was surgically removed. The doctor explained that later on if I wanted; they would insert a prosthetic silicone testicle into my scrotum to make it look normal. Dad had also ruptured the epididymis of my left testicle, but the doctors were able to save the testicle. However, they had to remove the epididymis, which made me sterile. He had torn my foreskin in several places with his shoe, and it was beyond saving. Circumcision was necessary. He had also bruised all the soft tissue of my penis and they weren't sure if it would ever look right or get erect again. They had to put a tube in my penis to drain the urine from my bladder because of the swelling and surgery. Other than that, the doctor told me I was in reasonable shape, considering the beating I had experienced. The next few days went by quickly. They removed the tracheotomy tube and I was able to speak. I just didn't sound like me. They removed the chest tube. They also took out the tube in my penis. With the tube out of my penis, I got brave enough to look under the sheets at my dick and nutsack. I was shocked. My dick looked like chopped hamburger from the beating and the circumcision, and my nutsack was black and blue with stitches going down both sides of it. My sack looked funny, being completely flat on the right side, where they had removed the testicle. By the end of the week, I wasn't in much pain except for breathing. Every breath I took caused pain. The nurses were getting me up every day to walk short distances in the halls. I quickly regained my strength. Grandma had finally gone home to get some rest, and Bobby was still with me day and night. One morning, I heard people talking out at the nurse's desk, and then the nurse brought the chief of police into my room. He told me he had some questions he would like me to answer. Apparently, one of the nurses recognized me and took it upon herself to report my injuries to the police. They were here to investigate. I was scared, because I knew they would tell my Dad where I was. The chief told me that Dad had reported an accident at the house, and that a neighbor had brought me to the hospital. He wanted me to tell him what happened. I was terrified, not knowing what to say. He told me Dad's report said Tony and I were fooling around in the hallway, and I had accidentally fallen down the stairs. I told him that was exactly what had happened. He looked at me, with an icy stare, and said, "Case closed." By the end of the week, the doctor said I was ready to go home. I must have looked horrified, because he finished the sentence with, "with your Grandma." On Saturday morning, the nurses finished my discharge, and Grandma was back to see me. She told me she was taking us to her house for the time being so I could fully recover. The nurse put me into a wheelchair and wheeled me down to the lobby. Mr. Evans was waiting at the front door with the car, and he picked me up out of the wheelchair, and put me in the back seat of the car. Bobby joined me on one side and Grandma sat on the other side. We drove home in silence, no one being sure what to say. I watched the landscape roll by, wondering what the future held for me. This is an original work of homoerotic non-fiction. © 2013 Lamort DeLioncourt If you enjoy reading Nifty stories, please consider donating: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html