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WARNING: This is a story of friendship, commitment, love and trust. It is not a sex story. However, this story deals with love between two male teenagers. If you are offended by stories involving love between two teenage boys, please do not read this story. There may be some sex scenes in this story; however, sex is not the main theme. If you are under age 18 or 21 or it is illegal to read this story where you live, don't read it. Reproducing this story for distribution without the owner's permission is a violation of that copyright. |
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Just A Story Chapter 5 I looked at Paul for a moment to see his reaction to what I had said. I don't know why I said what I said, I guess to try and make my life seem interesting and exciting. My life was boring for the most part. Oh yeah, I'd been 'abused' and that part was horrible but other than that my life was bland until Mom rescued me. He didn't particularly react; he was just listening. "Well, they weren't real friends, like humans, but they were all I had. They were just guinea pigs…just stupid little guinea pigs, but they were all I had, all I was allowed to have…" My hands began to shake as I recalled the scene, I could still hear the squeals, see the blood. I felt Paul's arm tighten. "Okay, tell me about your friends," he said in a gentle voice. I looked at him. No one else had ever said that - they always said 'tell me about the guinea pigs'; nobody had ever understood before. Nobody. "They were just guinea pigs, but they loved and trusted me. They were my friends. They were someone to talk to, to tell my dreams to, to tell my problems to." I looked at Paul and I saw tears welled up in his eyes. I had never cried about this. I'd always been sort of numb and distant, but somehow I knew Paul understood the pain and despair I had been in even though I hadn't said a word. He could feel it like me. For the third time in two years I cried; all three times had been today. Paul held me tight and didn't let me go. I knew he was sharing my grief; I knew I had found somebody special. After a long while the tears subsided. I looked at Paul and tried to smile. "I guess you think I'm cruel or demented." "No. I know you aren't either. I know there must have been some desperate reason you would do what you did and I know it's painful to talk about it, but you gotta do it." I knew he was right. I knew what I was about to talk about I had only scantly talked about and always from a distance and without emotions. It was different now with Paul. He made me feel safe. I love Paul with all my heart…no! More than that - I love him with every part of everything that is good about me! I don't know if you know what it feels like to never feel safe, to feel like you're totally on your own with no one, absolutely no one to love, to confide in, to always distrust everyone. I barely trust my mom, I know she loves me and I know that she feels terrible about what happened, but why did I have to ask her to save me! Now I've met someone who I've scarcely known for two days and despite a sort of turbulent beginning I feel safe. I feel at ease. "It's probably going to be hard for you to believe that a rich kid like me could ever live a horrible nightmare. Goes to show when a mad man has money he can get away with just about anything. For years I lived mainly in a room about the size of my dressing room. All this, my room, the shower, the blow room, is an effort from my mom to make up for the life I led. My ex-dad hated me and I learned to hate him. I truly hope he dies the most gruesome death and then rots in hell for eternity. From seven to the age of almost 14 my life was hell. I was kept in a small room almost twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I only got to leave the room for two hours a day for exercise and when I got to visit my mom and one day a week I got to spend 4 hours with a tutor who would talk only about school stuff and give me my next week's assignments." "Unlike most kids I had no TV, no radio, I had all the books I could read as long as they were classics, nothing about history or current stuff. I could listen to classical or opera. When I was twelve I asked my mom for a couple of guinea pigs, for that I got beaten severely but I was allowed to keep them. They had babies and more babies." "I soon had twenty-five guinea pigs. My ex-dad killed ten of them, the little ones. He dropped them on the floor and stomped on them. I went hysterical, tipped over their cage, and five of them managed to hide. Of course he slapped me around, then made me clean up everything. For six months I managed to keep the five hidden. It was time for my next visit with my mom. He came, he knew where I had been hiding them and he grabbed the one I called Buster. He said 'Say good bye, Buster.' He took out a pocketknife and slit Buster's throat. I went crazy! I hit him as hard as I could and as many times as I could before he pinned me down. He had Molly, my favorite, in his hand and he knew she was my favorite. He made me promise not to do anything or say anything to my mother or he'd kill the rest, starting with Molly." I paused. Paul gave me a reassuring squeeze. "When I had hit him he had dropped the knife and forgot about it. I knew he would eventually kill them. I didn't want to live any longer and I wasn't going to let him kill them, so there was only me…just a weak, miserable, pathetic me. I killed each one…Molly was the last…I-I-I loved her so much. I-I- I screamed at her! I told her I hated her…she just kept twitching her nose and looking at me like she didn't care and she knew what was going to happen. I guess I just held on to her as long as I could. She fell asleep and that's when I-I killed her. She didn't move or squeal like the others; she just lay on my lap, bleeding…I wanted to die that moment more than anything. I put the knife to my own throat, but I couldn't. I thought maybe my mom would do it for me." I looked at Paul. "That's it. Pathetic, huh?" "No. Thanks." "For what?" "For trusting in me enough to tell me all that and allow me to share it with you." I just looked at him for a second and for no reason other than my love for him, I wrapped my arms around him. "I've never loved anyone more than you. You are the very best of the best…" I kissed him on the cheek. He pulled back and looked at me and smiled. "That was because I love you and you deserved it." I giggled, "Not because I'm gay as in homosexual." "Prick teaser!" "What's a prick teaser?" He laughed, "You figure it out!" "No. Just tell me! Come on, be a pal!" "Nope!" "Okay, then…" I got up off the bed and took a few steps, "I have to check a dictionary…or" I couldn't help laughing. "Or what?!" "Or go ask your mom!" I said and ran for the balcony. "NO! Charlie! Don't you dare!" I heard him call as I slid down the slide. To be continued. |
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Having Ed
as my editor is a real joy. I mean I send him a chapter and BAM! he returns
it within hours! Thanks again Ed. PS: write me at west_fargo@hotmail.com |