Date: Mon, 03 Jan 2000 01:27:00 GMT From: Tel R O'Tales Subject: Rich Kid part 11 WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual acts between boys of similar ages. If this is not to your tastes or is not legal in your locality, please leave now! The story and its associated characters are entirely fictional and any resemblance to people, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental. Some parts of the story have been idealised. The author has copyrighted this story. A single copy had been placed in the Nifty Archive. Do not distribute it to any newsgroups and/or other web-sites without permission from the author. The Rich Kid Part 11 During lunch, the topic of discussion was quite naturally the interviews the Police had been carrying out. The more we talked, the more of the jigsaw we managed to piece together. It turned out that Thorne had been beaten severely. Despite his bullying, he didn't deserve to be beaten like that. What he was subjected to was nothing short of abuse. Who had actually done it though was still a point of conjecture. I had my suspicions, but that was all they were. The afternoon passed slowly as I trudged around the soccer field. This was even worse than being flattened regularly on the rugby pitch and I couldn't wait until 4:30 when I could go back to the room and shower. At least Mike would be there and not chasing around like a demented fly trying to kick a football. After showering we had dinner and prep. With all that had happened today, it was hard to concentrate and I didn't achieve a thing. It wasn't until I checked my e-mails later on that my interest was rekindled in the Thorne case. Father had sent me an e-mail that really caught me by surprise. Unfortunately, it could also mean trouble. Basically, father told me a little about my mother and her family. It struck me as odd that father never told me about them before. There was very little new there. He then went on to tell me about her more distant relatives. This was where it got interesting. He started telling me about this kid Mark. He was really given a hard time by his parents. Apparently he was really bright, but lazy with it. I had a growing feeling of unease. Was he just about to tell me that I got the Thorne part of my name from his family? Nah, it couldn't be. I read on and it hit me like a brick! He was family! Worse still he was a blood relative! Mark Thorne, the school bully was one of my relatives! I sat back in my chair. I wasn't sure how I felt about this latest revelation. I was surprised, but there was anger and shame too. Strangely, the negative feelings were tempered by compassion and some form of understanding. This needed some careful thought. I shut the laptop down and lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. How could this bully be part of my family? We were all descent people, thoughtful, considerate. Ok, most of the time we are. The more I thought about this piece of news the more my emotions built up. Mainly it was anger, but compassion kept rearing its head for the poor lad that had a tough time growing up. What the hell, we have all had it tough! And yet some had it tougher then others: who was I to judge him? I did not have his past to contend with! May be it was why he was a bully now. But it was still no excuse! Why shame? Didn't I have enough burdens with my own life and actions to carry the weight of the acts of this bastard? Could it be my actions against my own father were the expression of a hither-to unseen side of my character that I shared with Mark? Was it possible? Was I thinking the unthinkable: shame at my mother? NO, it can't be! I love mother! Or do I? Or was the shame I felt caused by something else? A shame at our indifference at the fate of a youngster who should have been helped and protected from abuse by his family, not abandoned by them! Was I a potential child abuser? NO! NO! And NO! Slowly, it dawned on me I did not know much about myself, about who I really was, my motives in life, where I stood, what where my values. The rock-solid world I had learned to believe in began to waver. The door creaked open and distracted me from my thoughts. It was Mike. I hadn't even noticed he had gone out. He looked at over at me with a puzzled expression. "What's up Ed'?" He asked. "Nothing!" I snapped back. He now looked very surprised. "Sorry. I've just had some news and I am not sure how I feel about it at the moment." "What news? Nothing bad I hope." "I'm not sure. In some ways it is bad, but then again, it isn't. Oh I don't know." I was confused, my emotions were all tangled up and I really wasn't sure how I felt. I got up off the bed and left the room. Mike took a look at my e-mail. Serves me right. I shouldn't have printed it and left it laying around if I didn't want him to read it. It may have even been a subconscious cry for his help. I don't know. I don't know why I did it, but I went over to the annex where Thorne's room was. It wasn't difficult to find his room either. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump from his stereo was like a lighthouse to ship at night. Nervously, I knocked on his door. There was no answer. What a surprise! My confidence left me and I walked away. For best part of the next hour I just wandered aimlessly around the school grounds and finished up sitting in the chapel. I guess I was just seeking help with my feelings, to understand them. I was startled when a hand was gently placed on my shoulder. It was Mike. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly. "No. Not yet. I want to understand more about how I feel first. Thanks for the offer though." We stood up and walked silently back to our room. Mike stayed very close to me all the way there and seemed very reticent to leave me for even a moment, but he had to use the toilet. When he came out of the bathroom I was laying in bed, my clothes in a heap on the floor. Just like the mother I never really knew might have done, he picked them up and put them away for me. He climbed into his own bed and turned the light out. I could feel him watching me, almost willing me to turn over and open my heart to him, but I couldn't. Not just yet. Instead I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them. I really felt I needed to sort this out alone. Depression was creeping up on me at the thought of having the bully for a cousin and there was nothing I could do about it. I fell asleep as my tears ran across my face and were soaked up by my pillow. I felt bloody awful the next morning, but my upbringing didn't allow me to shirk my responsibilities, in this case my education, and I tried to go on as normal. Most of my friends asked me what was wrong and none got an honest answer. I couldn't tell them the truth, not about having Thorne as any kind of relative. After eating lunch alone, I headed out to the soccer pitch with the rest of my class and after receiving a particularly hard tackle my anger broke and Mike dragged me off another of my class mates. I was sent off and after giving the ball an almighty kick, ran off towards the woods. I don't know why, I hated running, but I didn't stop for what felt like ages. When I did stop, I collapsed at the foot of a mighty oak tree, gasping for breath. I sat there for ages and it wasn't until I felt the chill of the evening air I realised it was nearly dark and started jogging back to school. Just at that moment I felt really free, no cares, no worries, nothing, but that changed when I got back to my room. Mike gave me an almighty ear bashing, the sort reserved for worried fathers and angry House Masters. Yes, the House Master collared me too, just after Mike had finished with me. My anger had gone and was replaced by sorrow now, sorrow for me having that bloody bully as a relative. Fortunately the House Master interpreted it as remorse for my wrong doing and let me off lightly setting me only 500 lines. Mike was in a foul mood when I returned to our room and didn't say a word to me. He kept throwing things around. Nothing hard or heavy, but shoes and clothes and things. I guess he was working out his frustrations at my by behaviour by not sharing my problem with him, by not talking to him. It dawned on me that I was being selfish. Mike too was embroiled in this. I was now feeling sorry for him too. Not only was he putting up with my brattish behaviour, I had also almost totally neglected him and his feelings too. I had a quick shower and sat on my bed, knees pulled up under my chin, arms wrapped around my calves. All I could think about was my selfishness. What was happening to me? Why had I changed? I sat there for over an hour thinking and rocking back and forth. I was disturbed from my thoughts by Mike as he came in the room. I hadn't even noticed that he had left! I threw myself at him almost in tears. He wrapped his strong arms around me and hugged me tight. I was a very lucky lad to have someone that was so loving and so forgiving. We sat on his bed and I tried to explain what I had found out, how I felt, but it was all too much for him. He couldn't take in my emotional state. I was dragging him down with me. "NO!" I yelled as a leapt off of the bed and ran out of the door. I couldn't do that to him, not my Mike. I ran down the corridor and down the stairs. Tears rolling down my cheeks all the while. As I was about to go out the door by the Porter's Lodge, someone grabbed me from behind with a strong grip which stopped me dead in my tracks. It was Mike. I struggled for a while, but gave up when I saw it was pointless to continue. He was too strong for me. He led me back up to our room and sat on the bed with me keeping his strong arms wrapped around me. The door opened and the House Master came in. The Porter had told him there was a problem brewing. By now I was in a really emotional state and the Doctor was called. I slept like a baby that night after I was sedated. I was watched closely by the teaching staff for the next few days and even closer by my friends. I don't know why they bothered with me. I mean, I was related to one of the biggest bullies in the history of the school. I also had regular visits to the school shrink. What a comedown! By the end of the week, it had been decided that I should be sent home. Father came for Freckle's memorial service and took me home with him afterwards. For the first week, I was forever talking to Mike on the phone. I missed him dearly. He missed me too. I could hear his voice everywhere I went around the house, I even thought I saw him once or twice, but that was only my mind playing tricks on me. I made such grand plans for when Mike and I got back together too. In the end I wasn't left alone just in case I decided to go walk about again. At least this time they knew where I would be headed. As a precaution, I was doped almost every night to make me sleep. It worked so well that I was literally carried up and put to bed by father. I think he realised that he wouldn't be able to keep us apart much longer before one of us did something silly. In between counselling sessions and lessons with Mr Grey, father spent as much time with me as possible. We really became close as the days passed, but he couldn't fill the vacuum left in my life by my lover. I took the opportunity to ask him why he had never told me about my mother. As it transpired, my mother's family felt she was marrying beneath herself and tried to block her every move. In the end they simply disowned her. From then on she never saw any of her family again. None of her family even attended her funeral after she was killed in what father would only call "the accident". I persuaded father to take me to visit Mike one Sunday afternoon. Wow! What a visit! We hadn't seen each other in over three weeks! Even though we didn't get the chance to be alone, we did our best to make up for our time apart. So much for my plans. I managed to give Mike the slip for a while and went over to the annex. There was someone I needed to see. I banged on the door but couldn't make Mark hear me. One of the other boys that lived in the annex gave it a kick and got an instant reply. The door opened suddenly. This startled me and I jumped back. "Yeah!" Thorne said. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?" "Can we talk?" I asked trying to bolster up my confidence. "What about?" Came a sharp reply. "Family and things." "Oh. Ok." I was let in and sat on the chair by the desk. We spent nearly an hour talking, but never once mentioned the beating. It's funny really, but that was one thing I really wanted to discuss. Not what had happened or who did it. It would have been nice to know, but not during the investigation. That wasn't the done thing. What I wanted to know was how he felt about the whole sequence of events? Why he had done some of the things he had. To me, what was more important, was did he feel any remorse, but I didn't get any real answers to my questions though. When I left I knew more about my mother's side of the family than father had ever indicated. It was amazing just hearing about my grandfather and his heroic exploits during the World Wars. He was a true life hero and I knew nothing about him, until now that is. When I got back to our room, Mike was pacing the floor. He gave me a real ear bashing for going out and not telling him where I was going, father did too. Mike almost exploded when I told him who I had been to see. Of course, he asked all the questions I didn't have the answers to and was disappointed. When I told him about my grandfather his interest was stirred. I had to tell him the whole story as Thorne had told it to me. Father took my revelations on the chin as normal, but I knew he was a little surprised at what I had done. I think he was shocked too about how much I had found out about my mother's side of the family. Father was also angry. He didn't say anything about it, but I could tell by the expression in his face, his choice of words and very often his lack of words. He had this habit of saying nothing when you least expected it. It was very off-putting. Back at home that night was quiet. Being a Sunday with a new round of lessons and counselling the following day, I contented myself with snuggling down with my big teddy bear and pretended it was Mike. Well I tried, but father came in and kept asking questions about what had happened to Mark. I told him all I knew, but still he wanted more. He kept on and on until he was sure he knew all that I knew. Then he kissed me on the forehead stood up ready to leave. I was now starting to realise just how little I knew about my family. It was my turn to ask the questions. I got very few answers, but I did discover that my father's father wanted my dad to marry someone else. Someone that would have been beneficial to both the family and the company. As it was, he had to settle for a disinherited woman of extreme beauty and boundless patience. Father wouldn't tell me any more than this. I suffered another three weeks of this solitude. No Mike, just my big teddy-bear to comfort me. I knew from Mike's e-mails that he missed me as much as I did him. The counsellor wouldn't tell me anything, he just kept taking notes and asking silly questions until one day I lost my temper and tried to throw him out of my room. He left alright, but not because I threw him out. I wasn't strong enough for that. He said he could "take a hint and knew when he wasn't wanted". I ate dinner alone that night. Father used to tell me when he was going out, but not tonight. He started doing that after I ran away from school. I was lucky enough to be able to find out where he went by listening outside the door to the drivers room. I returned to the family room and ordered a car to take me to my mother's home. This caused quite a stir down stairs judging by the background noise I heard on he phone, but the driver took me anyway. We spent an hour or so driving there, which was unusual when you consider it was only a 40 minute drive away. When we arrived, I was greeted by a pompous looking butler at the front door. I was shown into the library where I met an old man. He was 90 if he was a day, but was amazingly agile for his age. His wizen old face showed he had been through much and thrived on his adventures so I wasn't surprised to find out he was my grandfather. Initially, I was scared of him. If he had the power to do all the courageous things Mark had told me about, he could snap me like a twig. I was also angry about what he had done to my mother and father, but of course I couldn't show it. That just wasn't the done thing. We talked for over an hour and I learned more about the other side of the story my father had told me. He answered all of my questions and asked a good few too. I sat in awe of this truly courageous man that couldn't interfere with his grandson's upbringing. I know that sounds strange, but it was how I felt. Our conversation was interrupted by my father and another man entering the library. We sat and chatted for ages. The man was really interested in what Mark had been up to. I tried my best not to lie, but not drop Mark in it either. Despite his faults, Mark was family after all. I later found out that the man with father was Mark's father and without realising what I had done, I had made him feel ashamed of what he had done to his son when he was younger. Yes, Mark's father was a strong proud man with more money than I could imagine and I made him feel ashamed. Father and I returned home late that night and for the first time I could remember we slept in the same bed. It felt really good and comforting to have my father's strong arm wrapped around me as I fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning, father was gone and I was left to face another lonely day with Mr Grey and the counsellor. It was early evening when one of the servants passed me some information that had come from a member of the grounds staff. It didn't really surprise me either. Mike's parents had been called to the school. Apparently, Mike had thrown a wobbler. He had quite literally trashed one of the sitting rooms and was threatening anyone and everyone who came near him. He had the strength to do it to. By late evening, I was being driven to school with father. I was the only person Mike would speak to and we, father and I, also knew that I was the only person he could never harm. We were shown to the third form's sitting room. The door was wide open. What a mess! I couldn't see anything that wasn't broken. There, about ten feet inside the open door was Mike. He was holding a standard lamp. The shade had been ripped off. The bulb had been carefully broken so that the two prongs were still sticking out. He claimed the power was switched on. "Come in." He called gently to me. "But come alone!" He yelled immediately afterwards. "Stay in the doorway." Father told me. He was standing out of Mike's sight. "Put the lamp down first Mike. It scares me." I said lying, I think. He stood the lamp up beside him and I slowly edged into the room. As I edged around the upturned couch he lunged at me. "Shit!" I yelled. He really scared me despite the fact that I knew he could never hurt me. He landed on me in a sort of flying rugby tackle and we both hit the floor with a bump his arms wrapped around me. There was a sickening crack and a loud yell! The adults poured in like the cavalry in some battle. Before I really knew what was going on Mike was being dragged off me yelling out in pain. Something inside me snapped and I lashed out! I hit someone or something and my fist shattered again. I continued to lash out until I had fought my way to Mike's side. He was laying still on the floor of the corridor. Gently I wrapped my good arm around him and hugged him tight. My tears were flowing like a mountain stream. What had they done to him? I felt a stabbing pain in my behind and I realised what had happened as I too drifted off into a land of total immobility. * * * * * * * * * I would like to point out too that all of the events in the story are entirely fictitious and although there may be the occasional sexual encounter in British public schools, they are on the whole rare. I would also like to say that no matter how bad the problem, suicide is NOT the answer. There is always someone who can and will help. If you have any comments please email me at teller_of_tales@hotmail.com as usual flames will be ignored. I would like to thank Marc for his help proof reading the story and both Chris and Marc for stirring my grey matter when it needed it. Thanks both of you.