Fic: In Your Arms, Chapter 19
Title: In Your Arms
Rating: This chapter, R-16
Pairing: Vam!
Summary: High school AU. A repressed Ville has had a crush on Bam for years, but the skater has never noticed him. However, when he does, Ville begins to break out of his confines with the skater’s help and Bam finally finds some stability in his life. But everybody knows things do not always go well.
Previous Chapters~ Here
19-
Ville fought weakly against his mother as she dragged him away from the payphone, nails biting into his arm as he reached for the receiver with wounded hands, wanting to hear Bam’s voice just one more time before he was ripped away from him. “Mother, let me go! Please!” He cried, voice rasping painfully in his throat.
“Shut up! Shut up!” Anita hissed under her breath, looking around at the people stopping and staring at the mother and son fighting over a phone at the airport. “Fucking hell, be quiet you little shit!” She snarled, spotting a large disabled toilet that was a room of its own. They were just outside the toilets, her son being able to get out of her sight by pleading he needed to go. Apparently, the men’s toilets had two entrances, leading out from opposite sides, and Ville had been able to walk out the one he didn’t enter by and get to a payphone. She’d gotten suspicious though, and walked through the female toilets to see him talking rapidly into the receiver, dissolving into tears, and she’d lost it, ripping the phone out of his hands and hanging it up, turning around the shake him violently by the shoulders before dragging him away.
Even if his mother was stick thin and looked like she was wasting away, she had a strong grip that was unrelenting on him, and Ville was too weak from his ordeal the night before, still dizzy from the blow to the head and the resultant blood loss to properly fight her off. From the view of the people staring around them, it looked like he was only barely struggling against his mother as she dragged him into the disabled toilets and locked the door behind them, smiling apologetically at the crowd blinking at them before they disappeared from sight. The people figured not much was going on, just the normal sullen teenager not wanting to do something and the mother having to sort him out in the privacy of a bathroom. They went on their way, muttering to themselves about youths these days.
Inside the bathroom however, something entirely different then what they had in their minds was going on. Ville was on his knees in the middle of the small room, cowering as his mother hit him repetitively around the back of the head with an open fist, the thuds the violent contact made echoing quietly around the tiled walls. He didn’t even try to stop her, just covered his head and sobbed, shivering, getting progressively dizzier as her blows reopened the wound on the back of his head, spilling more blood into his already dried-blood matted hair. The only reason nobody had seen it was because of his hat his mother had forced on him that morning, when she’d dragged him, still disorientated from the bottle to the head, to his bedroom to pack and then into the car. It was only when he’d realised where they had arrived when he had started to fight back and had gone for the payphones. There weren’t even any bruises on his face, just hidden under his clothes, so nobody had stopped them when he had to show his face for his passport. The slaps to the face had only left faint red marks, and his mother had wiped the dried blood roughly from his face in the car with some tissues she had had in the glove box.
“You come quietly, do you understand me?” She was saying, quietly but not without venom to not alert people outside what was really happening as she swung her hand, “after all I’ve fucking done for you, clothed you, fed you, schooled you, you do this one last fucking thing for me after ruining my life!” Anita hissed, growling out her frustration as she began to hit harder.
Ville squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, sniffing and swaying slightly forward from each hit she made, groaning. He still shook his head as he whimpered though. No. He may go with her as she forced him to, but he would never fully and willingly want to leave Bam. He would resist with all he had, even if it wasn’t much at the moment. He had no strength left to truly fight against her, to get away from her and run to Bam.
Anita almost howled in rage when her defiant son shook his head and kicked him square in the back, making Ville cry out silently from having the air forced out of him. He fell forward onto the antiseptic smelling tiles, rasping his sobs out as his cheek pressed against the cold surface.
“God, you useless little faggot fuck!” She snarled in anger and then put her hand to her pounding head. The anger was boiling through her veins and she was suddenly light-headed and nauseous from all the physical activity and rage she was feeling. Anita stumbled against the wall, aborting another kick towards her son as she felt the familiar burn of vomit coming up her throat.
She barely made it to the toilet before she expelled the putrid contents of her stomach, coughing and shaking from the force of it, tears forming in her reddened eyes. Her body was simply not used to this.
Ville just curled up on the floor, clutching his aching head and feeling his heart shrivel up in his chest. He didn’t go to his ailing mother like he normally did when he heard her throw up in the middle of the night, or even day, just listened and hoped that she felt so fucking sick that she couldn’t go on and they would go back home and he’d be able to fall into Bam’s arms and never leave them again.
Anita coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she finished, and pined her anger-deadened eyes on Ville, rasping out cruel words. “I never loved you. You were a fucking mistake. Jesse… Jesse was meant to make everything better. This is all your fucking fault. You made me like this. I’m not a bad mother, I’m not. This is all… your doing.” She accused quietly, critically.
Ville whimpered, covering his ears. Rationally, he knew that none of it was his fault, that is mother was in denial and deranged from alcohol, but after years of emotional abuse and now physical, even Bam’s love and reassurances that he was worth it, couldn’t keep the words from digging into his chest and taking root in his flesh, spreading poison tendrils through his blood and into his brain.
“After ruining my life, your father’s life, killing your little brother, the least you can do is fuck off quietly. I’m even helping you, you little faggot.” Anita coughed and spat, standing on shaking legs and flushing the toilet, the rank smell of her mostly liquid vomit disappearing. “There’s not point in you staying. I don’t love you, never did, and your father… well. He’d rather have a son who liked pussy.” She laughed softly.
“Bam… Bam loves me,” Ville tried, whispering into the wounded hands covering his tear soaked face.
Anita sneered, her stomach roiling in disgust but realising that this, this was the weak spot. “You think that your boyfriend loves you? As soon as he’s had enough of your ugly arse he’ll dump you for another fag. Homosexuals do not love, they lust. And shit, who the fuck would love you? Look at you. As soon as this Bam realises what a wimp he’s been fucking he’ll run for the hills.”
Ville flinched, trying to ignore her words. In the right state of mind he would’ve been able to, but at the moment, he was anything but; traumatised and wounded and scared and lonely. Everything she was saying was bringing out hidden fears from deep within him, that maybe one day Bam would realise how unworthy he was of his love, because look at him- curled up on a dirty airport bathroom floor covered in bruises, not even able to fight off a crazed and weakened alcoholic woman, to stand up for himself. And he’d fooled himself into thinking he had been making progress just yesterday.
Ville sobbed and gave up. On the airport bathroom floor, painfully public but hidden, Ville went still and quiet and did not resist when his mother yanked him up by the arm.
-
After Bam had finished beating up his steering wheel and gained enough of his composure back, he drove home, stray tears still leaking from his eyes, his hands shaking on the wheel. He didn’t bother parking in the garage, so he just left his car in the driveway and walked into his house and up the stairs to his room like a zombie.
Bam stood in the middle of his room, just looking around with blank blue eyes. Everything in his room reminded him of Ville and tugged at his heart, making him choke up. His bed where they had lain together and touched each other with curious fingers and kissed with passionate wet mouths, pictures and scribbles drawn by Ville tacked to his wall, books strewn over his desk that the Finn had been reading and hadn’t bothered to bring home, even the video camera on Bam’s bedside table that was full of videos of Ville. However, it was the innocent tube of strawberry gloss lying beside it that made Bam lose it, emotions pouring out as with a roar he swept everything off his desk to the floor, trinkets and books and folders and left over plates clattering to the floor. Shouting, he picked up one of his skateboards lying around and chucked it at the wall, not caring about the dent it made as it collided, and broke another one by stamping furiously on it. He raged around his room, throwing everything he could get his hands on and upturning every piece of furniture he could before he sunk down onto the carpet, sobbing into his hands as he knelt in the remains of his alarm clock.
Bam remained like that in the ruins of his room, only changing position to lie on the carpet on his back and stare helplessly up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, just trying not to think of anything, knowing that if he did he would go fucking crazy again and probably end up killing somebody. Plus, it was just too painful to think that he would never see his gorgeous Finn again. They hadn’t been able to even say a proper goodbye…
Hours went by in a haze and he distantly heard his mother and father come home from work in the evening. Thankfully, they left him alone, and not even April came up to bring him down for dinner. If he had been in the right state of mind, Bam wouldn’t have thought it strange that April hadn’t checked on him yet. The skater even ignored his stomach as it rumbled at him, not having anything to eat since breakfast.
He knew in the back of his mind that it wasn’t the end of their relationship; they’d be able to ring each other and hear each other’s voices, talk over the internet and even see each other with web-cams, but it wouldn’t be the same. They would be brought together with technology but ultimately held apart by it, separated by phone lines and computer screens. Bam would never be able to hold Ville ever again, kiss him or touch his smooth skin, smell his scent and bury his hands in his silky brown curls, make love to him. Bam bit back a sob and hit the carpet under him with a tight fist, feeling his heart break in his chest. And god, how was Ville feeling? He must be a complete wreck; he’d sounded like it on the phone, desperate and heartbroken and resigned all at the same time. Bam ached to hold Ville in his arms, soothe him and in turn soothe himself, to make sure that Ville wouldn’t turn his self-hatred again onto himself for leaving Bam, for letting his mother walk all over him again.
Suddenly, his phone started ringing in his pocket again and Bam shot up, fumbling for it in his pocket, hoping that it was Ville ringing him from Finland.
His face fell when he saw the caller ID. He rejected the call with his thumb and collapsed back onto his back, just staring at his phones wallpaper of Ville’s sleeping face with tired eyes.
Biting his lip, Bam hung up as the person tried to ring him again, and cursed quietly when they persisted, ringing over and over. Growling, he finally answered, putting the phone to his ear as he stared up at the ceiling and at the ruined remains of the light bulb. Couldn’t people just leave him alone?
“Jenn, what the fuck do you want?” He snarled.
His ex-girlfriend was obviously taken aback by his aggressive greeting, stuttering over her words. “Um, uh, Bam, I really need to talk to you.” Her voice was tinny over the connection, oddly false.
Bam closed his eyes. An image of Ville’s gorgeous face burned on the back of his eyelids. “Then fucking talk, Jenn. I’m seriously not in the mood.”
“…Not over the phone. It’s really important.”
“Fucking hell, I don’t give a shit. Go whine to somebody else, I’m hanging up,” he said and started to terminate the call, freezing mid motion as Jenn yelled something over the phone.
“Bam, I’m fucking pregnant! Don’t you DARE hang up on me!” She screamed, voice breaking painfully as she started to cry, breath hitching as she sobbed and swallowed loudly in vain to keep them back.
No. Bam thought. No, this can’t be fucking happening. Not now.
“Bam-… Bam, are you there?” Jenn hiccuped.
“Is-” Bam started, choking on his words as he sat up, putting his face in his free hand. “Is it mine?”
“The timing fits, and you’re, you’re the only one I’ve had sex with in a while.”
Bam didn’t even have the energy to scoff at that. “It can’t be fucking mine, we used a rubber every time,” he said, looking for anything, any excuse to make this just go away.
Jenn hiccuped again, sniffing. “Remember that time when it broke?”
God. “But you said you were on the fucking pill for Christ’s sake,” Bam said helplessly. Please, just be a bad dream. Just, the entire day, a complete nightmare, and he’d wake up in his bed and drive to the park and be able to see Ville’s smiling face and kiss him good morning and share the story of this crazy dream he had and Ville would laugh and hug him and say he would never leave Bam, ever. Fucking hell, he was begging here.
“…I might’ve forgotten to take it a few times,” Jenn whimpered and Bam bit his lip, forcing back tears. The world was falling around his ears and he just- hell, he couldn’t cope. He just wanted to curl up on his bed with Ville in his arms and sleep for days.
“Are you sure?” He whispered, trying one last time, hoping it was just some cruel joke, but he knew Jenn would’ve never contacted him again after their break-up if it weren’t sometime dire.
“Of course I’m fucking sure!” Jenn shouted, “I took three pregnancy tests and even went to a fucking doctor. I’m pregnant Bam, now please,” she sobbed, loosing her sudden burst of anger, “come talk to me and help me, I don’t know what to do.”
Bam’s shoulders fell and he closed his eyes in resignation, felling a weight press down unbearably heavy on his body. He didn’t know what she expected him to do, but he couldn’t just leave her. If she was telling the truth and the baby was his, god- “Okay,” he finally whispered, voice flat and helpless.
Jenn took a deep breath over the phone. “I’m at the park on Eden’s street. I can’t- I can’t do this at home, my parents are there and I just- I hoped a neutral stop would stop us from blowing up at each other. Hurry?”
Bam dragged himself up onto his feet. “Yeah, I’ll be there in ten,” he said and hung up, his arm dropping boneless to his side. He hung his head for a few seconds, just standing, before he walked out of his wrecked bedroom and down the stairs, his heart a stone in his stomach.
-
“He’s coming.” Jenn put her phone in her pocket and sniffed, wiping her cheeks and making a face at her running eyeliner. “Damn it, I hope you’re fucking happy, my make-up is ruined,” she huffed, turning to face three boys dressed in dark clothes standing next to her.
Darren grinned at her, teeth flashing in the dark. “Oh, I’m happy. Nice performance.”
“Yeah, you should be a actor or something. Wouldn’t mind seeing you on TV, if you know what I mean,” one of the boys leered at her, staring at her chest, and Jenn bristled, feeling demeaned.
“Fuck off, Evan, you’re not here to get laid,” Darren snapped and turned back to her. “Sit down and wait for our little friend, why don’t you?”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snarled but sat down anyway on the park bench, eyeing the baseball bats the three boys wielded and the small tank of a liquid that looked suspiciously like gasoline one of them held in their hands, along with a bag of objects she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know about. “You’re not going to hurt him too bad, are you?” She asked tentatively. Sure, Jenn wanted Bam to hurt, to feel pain she had felt over being dumped so humiliatingly, but she didn’t want him to die or anything.
Darren sneered at her as he twirled the bat around in his big fingers, his two friends laughing at her scared tone. Suddenly, Jenn wasn’t sure this was such a good idea.
“Oh, we won’t hurt him too bad,” one of the boys laughed, Jenn was pretty sure his name was Gregg.
“Shut up,” Darren jeered, “you said you were in, little girl, you’re not backing out now, are you?” His brown eyes flashed dangerously in the dim light provided by the only streetlight, and Jenn hurriedly shook her head, not wanting those bats to be turned on her.
“Good,” Darren said. “Now sit and do your bit like a good little bitch.” He turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the big park. It was probably why Darren had chose it, it was pretty out of the way and big with plenty of bushes and trees to lurk in and the nearest house wasn’t too close. At night the park was notorious for mugging and rapes because of the poor lighting, and Jenn was kind of afraid, sitting here on the park bench in plain sight. She persevered anyway, making a face as Evan leered at her suggestively but followed after his leader into the ominous dark of the night.
Shivering, she waited in the seemingly empty park, wondering if this really was the right thing to do, for their unsuspecting prey to arrive.
-
April blinked as she saw Bam walk quietly past their bedroom door while she read in bed, Phil already snoring beside her. Looking at the alarm clock on her bedside table she frowned when she saw that it was almost midnight.
What is he doing? She thought, hearing the front door slam and his car start, pulling out of the driveway. Usually she wouldn’t let him out so late, but it was getting harder and harder to look at her son when in the back of her mind she was constantly arguing with herself about if Bam was really gay or not. It was persistently in her head, nagging at her, and she found that she couldn’t concentrate at all on anything, unable to focus on her work and even sleep, which was why she was still up. She hadn’t even been able to walk up the stairs to check on Bam when his room had been eerily quiet, not even his usual heavy metal music blaring out of his speakers. April knew he had been home because his car was in the driveway when she got back from work, and she had lingered at the bottom of the stairs, reluctant to go up and call him down for dinner, and in the end had walked back into the kitchen and told Phil that Bam wasn’t hungry when he had asked why his son wasn’t joining them.
He’s probably meeting Ville for a late night rendezvous, April thought bitterly to herself as she closed her book and put it away, sighing and putting her face in her hands. She looked helplessly at her husband lying beside her for a moment, his back facing her, and then slipped out of bed, shrugging on her dressing gown. Well, if Bam was out his room was empty, so she could snoop around a little bit and look for some clues. There probably wouldn’t be anything incriminating lying around, like, god forgive her, a gay porn magazine, but not knowing was driving her crazy.
Brushing a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she ascended the stairs and paused outside of Bam’s closed door, biting her lip. She was afraid of what she would find.
Oh, for God’s sake, you’re a grown woman, she admonished herself. Taking a deep breath, she pushed back her apprehension and opened Bam’s door, gasping when she saw the state of Bam’s room.
“What the hell?” April muttered, walking in to stand in the middle of the bedroom to take in the devastation. Bam was so dead when he came home. He had basically destroyed his room beyond repair. The walls were dented and chipped from various objects being thrown at them, all the furniture upended, his desk chair in pieces on the floor along with everything else, his bed covers ripped and the mattress thrown across the room, forlornly lying on the pushed over bookcase, even all his CDs were scattered over the carpet, some whole but most in shards, lying around his kicked in speakers. She was surprised that the door and window was actually intact from the amount of ruin she was seeing.
Something serious must have happened to prompt Bam to destroy all his possessions so carelessly like this. Now April wasn’t sure that she should’ve let Bam go at this time of night in the state of mind he would be in from the appearance of his room. Even if she wasn’t sure about Bam’s sexual preference and if she could accept it, she was still her son’s mother and she was worried.
“Sweetie, what happened?” She muttered to herself, looking around with confused eyes before she stepped backwards to go down the stairs to ring Bam and make him come home. Yelping, she looked down when she stood on something hard, blinking when she saw it was an undamaged black CD case that was zipped closed, probably containing a couple different disks. It looked liked it had fallen out of Bam’s bedside drawers which were overturned, the drawers pulled out.
She bent over and picked it up, turning it over in her hands and seeing no label anywhere. Curious, she unzipped it, opening the case and flipping through the writable disks, reading what Bam had titled each disk with black marker…
Ville - skate park - video, photos
Ville - candid - mostly library, bedroom
Ville - cooking (such a good little wifey. XD)
Ville - funny
Ville - FOR MY EYES ONLY, BITCHEZ
…Were only a few. Eyes widening, April closed the case and held it in trembling fingers. She took a deep breath. She felt bad going through Bam’s obviously private things, but this, this was going to hold all the answers.
Hoping against hope, she gingerly made her way out of Bam’s room and down the stairs and into the study, booting up the computer. As the screen lit up it threw eerie blue light against her face, illuminating her features and exaggerating the lines in her skin. Biting her lip, she sat in the computer chair, waiting for the screen to show the desktop as she selected one of the disks, completely avoiding the one labelled for Bam’s eyes only. She chose the one titled just <3 Ville :), hoping it was safe for her to view, and popped it into the disk drive and waited for it to load, heart pounding in her chest as the media player popped up.
The first thing she heard was Bam’s voice. “You’re like a kitten, I swear, Ville.”
The image was blurred and April couldn’t make anything out, but then it focused and she was looking into big green eyes and flushed cheeks, brown hair slicked back with water from the pretty face. “I’m not an animal, Bam-Bam.” The eyes blinked as they looked into the camera as the person spoke. “What’re you doing?”
Oh god, no, April thought, moaning as she put her face in her hands. The voice was deep - a boy’s voice.
“Recording you,” came Bam’s voice, and there was no doubt about it that Ville was actually very male as the camera moved backwards, revealing that they were in a pool and showing Ville’s flat chest and small boy hips clearly through his wet clothes. April watched with devastated eyes as the pretty boy on the screen advanced on Bam through the water and slung his arms around Bam’s neck, the camera tilting to show her son’s and Ville’s smiling lips nearing each other.
Turning her head away, she clicked out of the video in disgust as they started to kiss. Feeling like she was going to throw up, she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her heart sink down to her stomach, which was beginning to simmer in anger.
April had her answer.
-
Bam parked his car outside the park and just sat there for a few minutes, head back against the headrest and his eyes closed. He contemplated killing himself, just by bashing his head on his steering wheel so many times that his forehead split open and his brains oozed out, but he knew he couldn’t. Completely resigned and hopeless, he sighed and shook his head slowly as he stepped out of his car, heading towards the lonely figure of his ex-girlfriend that he could barely see in the darkness of the night sitting on a bench beside the eerie empty playground. If he had been in a better state of mind, he would have been wondering what the hell he was doing here, and why Jenn had called him so late at night and made him come to this park, which was so far away from where she actually lived. He would’ve been suspicious and probably would’ve never left home, just told her to suck it up and he would speak to her in the morning after she’d calmed down and had some sleep.
Stopping in front of her, shoulders drooping, Bam looked at the ground. “I’m here.”
Jenn looked at him and frowned, opening her mouth as she glanced around, clearly nervous from her fiddling fingers on her short skirt. “Bam, ru-” She tried to warn, standing up and reaching for him, but it was too late. A dark figure silently appeared behind the skater and hit an unwary Bam squarely over the head with a baseball bat, making his blue eyes roll up into his head as he crumpled to the ground, dazed severely. Jenn screeched quietly and then slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror.
The blonde gasped and flinched as Darren pinned her with a dangerous brown gaze. “I hope you weren’t going to do what I thought you were,” he hissed. Jenn shook her head hurriedly, taking a step back and watching with wide eyes as Evan and Gregg grabbed a groaning Bam by his ankles and began to drag him further into the park and into the shadows, laughing to themselves.
“Good,” Darren smiled and began to follow after them, his teeth flashing ominously in the dark as he fixed his eyes on Bam’s prone form. “Now fuck off and do some girly shit or something, you’ve done your bit. And if you say a word about this to anyone…” He trailed off, and Jenn shivered at the violent tone in his voice, coiling back in fear.
“I swear, I won’t,” her voice trembled from behind her hands.
Darren grinned menacingly at her once more, and then disappeared after the two other boys into the dark, gripping the baseball bat in his fingers with anticipation. He would get his revenge on Margera, and then the sweet little Finnish whore would be ripe for the picking.
Jenn watched him go until he had disappeared into the bushes, biting her lip, and then turned around and walked to her car parked beside Bam’s, looking at the black vehicle with unsure eyes. She took a deep breath and looked away from it, slipping into her own car. There was no sign of the four boys at in the park any more as she peered out of her windscreen into the dark.
It was too late to do anything now. She couldn’t tell anybody about this, because she would be blamed also for her part in it. Jenn could only hope that they didn’t kill Bam.
Starting the car, she drove away, not looking back once as tears slowly started to drip down her pallid cheeks.
-
They’d only arrived minutes ago and already Matti was fighting with his older sister in the next room. Anette wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was as the shouting was mostly in English and she could only understand a little of it, but she knew enough to work out that it had something to do with the boy currently sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over with his hair covering his face. He hadn’t said a word since he’d emerged from the taxi with his mother in the early below freezing Helsinki morning air, hadn’t responded to any of Anette’s prompts, hadn’t made a sound at all actually. The only sign that he was even alive was the slight movement of his thin shoulders up and down as he breathed, and even that was understated, like he was afraid to move much. Anette didn’t even know his name.
Biting her lip, the woman swept her messy blonde hair up in a bun as she turned away from the boy staring down at the tabletop as the electric kettle boiled and switched itself off. The kitchen lights were dim as she poured hot water into two mugs already with tea bags in them, the artificial lighting needed as it was still too early for the sun to be up. Them arriving at such an early hour in the morning probably wasn’t helping Matti’s, her boyfriend, mood either, as the shouting began to escalate in the living room, both voices trying to be heard over the others. Anette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, turning away from the kitchen counter as she tried to ignore the loud fight.
“Here,” Anette said softly in Finnish, placing a steaming mug of tea in front of the boy and sitting down opposite him with her own. He didn’t respond or acknowledge her, didn’t even look like he had noticed something had been put in front of him. Anette sighed softly and curled her fingers around the worn china, breathing in the warm wisps of tea to fight away the coldness of the kitchen.
Taking a sip, she studied the seemingly unresponsive boy in front of her, his head bowed in what seemed like defeat and arms wrapped tight around his body, like all the comfort he could get was from his own embrace. Poor thing, she thought. She didn’t know what he’d done to be suddenly uprooted from his home in America and dumped on some relative he probably hardly knew after a nine hour long flight through the night, and she didn’t ask. But she didn’t think this harmless looking thing could possibly do anything so terrible.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes, and the shouting went on, grating on her nerves. Anette flinched when it sounded like something broke, but didn’t get up to see what it was, just took another sip of her tea, trying to emit calmness. The boy continued to just sit there and after a few minutes started to shiver.
Anette’s eyes softened. “You should drink your tea. It’s cold here, it’ll warm you up,” she said softly, trying to prompt him to do anything. His stillness was beginning to worry her. “I swear, I’m not bad at making tea. I can drink mine, see?”
Anette held her mug up in vain to demonstrate her point but the boy didn’t respond. After a few seconds had passed she sighed, putting the mug back down on the tabletop. God, she didn’t know what to do. The boy was obviously in some kind of shock and Anette was helpless. The situation was just so utterly awkward.
But then there was movement. The boy hesitantly unwrapped his arms from around his body, the motion stiff and slow as if he was in pain, and quietly curled his pale hands around the still warm mug. He didn’t pick it up and bring it to his lips however, just sat there again, as still and silent as anything. Anette, for a moment, wasn’t actually sure that he had moved, he’d done it so inconspicuously. She smiled though; at least this was progress.
But then she saw something that made her heart stop in her chest. “What happened to your hands?” Anette blurted out when she got a good look at the thin fingers curled around the mug, the long baggy sleeves falling away and revealing skin littered with small painful looking cuts. The boy flinched away from her loud exclamation and snatched his hands away from the mug, tucking them protectively into his stomach and not saying a word.
Anette winced. Now it looked like she wasn’t going to get anything out of him at all. But his hands… God, they looked painful. And he hadn’t even put any dressings on them and they had looked only a day old at the best.
“I’m sorry,” she apologised awkwardly, “no more loud noises, I promise. Though we might have a problem if Matti and your mother keep shouting like that,” Anette tried, but again, the boy was wordless. Sighing, Anette bit her lip and gulped at her cooling tea, listening with half an ear to the fighting still going on. Good god, that woman could shout. And her tone was so brash and violent, easily matching Matti’s masculine voice in loudness. From what Anette could hear, and what she saw from when she greeted Anita at the door, her voice matched her personality perfectly. The blonde was starting to get an inkling of why this boy was so timid.
Anette finished her tea. With the lack of anything better to do and the need to keep busy and chase the awkwardness of the situation away, she swept up their mugs when it became obvious that the boy wasn’t going to touch his tea and washed them out in the kitchen sink, taking longer than necessary and drying them with the dishcloth. When she was done she leant against the counter with her hip, feeling relief that the siblings’ shouting match was beginning to die down. From the looks of things they were finally coming to an agreement.
“Do you even speak Finnish?” Anette murmured to herself and then looked out the window, just being able to see out into the dark through the reflection in the glass of the kitchen. There was a small dusting of snow on the ground, which wasn’t unusual. She looked back at the boy. He wasn’t dressed for such cold weather, just some baggy cargos, a thin sweater and a huge hat that covered his face. And he’d only come with a small backpack, and even that had looked only half full.
Oh, Anette blinked when she realised that the boy had turned his head. Following his line of sight, she saw that he was looking at the phone on the wall.
“Do you… want to use the phone?” She asked hesitantly, walking over to it and picking the plastic thing off its holder, holding it out to the boy. It took a second for him to reach up slowly and curl his fingers around it, avoiding her hand, and Anette didn’t mention again the state of his poor fingers.
“Thank you,” the boy muttered in Finnish and Anette’s lips quirked up. Ah, so he did speak, even if his voice was hoarse and painfully timid. Sitting down again at the kitchen table and crossing her ankles, she watched curiously as the boy pressed in a few numbers and held the phone to his ear. Judging from the length of the number sequence it was a cell phone number.
Since the shouting from the living room had died down and had only become a quiet murmuring, Anette could hear the phone ringing from the small speaker held to the boy’s ear, and consequently heard when it abruptly cut off a while later. That’s odd, she thought to herself, and watched as the boy frowned, hesitating as he took the phone from his ear as he looked at it for a moment. Then he dialled again.
A few seconds of silence after the phone tried to connect, and then: ‘The number you have called is unavailable. Please try again later.’
Somehow, Anette knew that the boy didn’t want or need to hear that. Fingers beginning to shake, he dialled once more, bringing the phone to his ear in a white-knuckled grip, his other hand clutched hopefully to his chest.
‘The number you have called is unavailable. Please try again later.’
Anette’s face dropped sadly as the boy dialled again and again, each attempt becoming more and more desperate, his entire body beginning to tremble violently as each time he got the same monotone voice saying the same words. Her heart fell to her stomach in pity when she realised that he had begun to cry silently, tears dripping from his chin and plopping forlornly onto the worn wood of the table. There was something always so heart-wrenching about somebody who was able to weep without making a single sound, as if they thought that their pain wasn’t worth the world hearing them. Continuing to watch, Anette clutched at the material of her nightclothes covering her thighs, biting her lip to keep from telling him to stop, stop so he didn’t cause himself anymore pain.
After maybe the fifteenth dial the boy let the phone fall from his wounded fingers. It clattered to the table loudly, and Anette watched with tears burning in her own eyes as the boy buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking violently from his silent sobs.
“Oh, darling,” she cooed, getting up from her seat in the need to comfort him. “Sweetie, it’s alright, please calm down.” Frowning in sympathy, she tried to pat him on the shoulder, not sure if a hug would be accepted, but he flinched away from the contact, breath hitching as he continued to cry forlornly.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
At the loud voice Anette flinched and spun around on the kitchen tiles to see Matti, her boyfriend, standing in the doorway, looking dishevelled and thoroughly dissatisfied. The expression on his face could only be described thunderous and Anette winced. “Matti, please, not so loud.” She gestured to the boy, trying to convey his distress.
Matti just snorted, running his hands through his short dark hair. “It’s too early for this shit. I’m going to back to bed. Nobody better disturb me or there will be hell to pay.” He threatened, “and the boy is fucking staying.” He shook his head as he said this, like he couldn’t believe it, and disappeared from the doorway. Anette frowned, pressing down a spark of anger as she was left standing in the kitchen in her dressing gown. Sure, Matti was gorgeous and she loved him, but sometimes he could be such an insensitive arsehole that she just wanted to throttle him.
“Sorry about that,” Anette sighed, going back to the boy but only being interrupted once again when Anita appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with her eyes narrowed on her son. The gaze put Anette’s teeth on edge and she suddenly had the urge to put herself between the two, to shield the distressed boy from that look. Even the boy’s back froze as much as his trembling allowed, sensing such a venomous stare aimed at his back, but he didn’t turn around to look at his mother.
“Did you… want some tea?” Anette asked hesitantly when Anita made no attempt to say anything.
The piercing haze settled on her and the blonde woman flinched back. God, but this woman… Those eyes peering out of her sallow pale face, lined by deep bag-bruised eyes gave Anette a grim shiver down her spine and made her want to hide under the table.
“No.” Anita said, sneering. “I’m leaving. Don’t want to stay in this god-forsaken hellhole any longer than I have to. If this sad excuse for a fucking human being gives you any trouble you have my permission to dump him on the streets. He’s fucking lucky that I didn’t do that in the first place.”
What kind of mother says that about her child, especially when they’re in the room? Anette thought, horrified. This woman is a monster.
She looked to the boy to see his reaction, but he hadn’t even responded to the cruel words, was just still sitting there with his face in his hands. Anette got the feeling that he was used to this kind of treatment. The cuts on his hands were probably this despicable woman’s handy work too.
Anette looked back at Anita, her fists clenched and her mouth ready to spit some choice words, but the doorway was empty. A few seconds later and she heard the front door slam. Good riddance, she thought crossly, glad that the woman had left in such a hurry. I hope she gets hit by a bus.
“I guess you’re staying with us, then,” Anette sighed, turning back to the boy. She really had to find out his name soon, Anette couldn’t just keep on calling him ‘the boy’. It was so demeaning. But now wasn’t the time. He was still hiccuping into his hands, his shoulders still trembling from sobs that were only now just dying down. The best thing she could think of doing was to let him calm down on his own. He’d already expressed his feelings about not wanting her comfort by flinching away from her, and she couldn’t do much else, even if her heart ached to take him into her arms and tell him that everything was going to be fine, that she would take care of him and that he didn’t need to see his horrible mother any more.
Hovering a hand over the boy’s thin shoulder, Anette bit her lip and let it drop down uselessly by her side. “I’ll go make up the spare bedroom. You just sit tight here, okay?” Slippered feet soft against the kitchen tiles, she retreated from the kitchen, giving one last look at the forlorn boy sitting lonely at the table, hunched over and despondent, the blood smeared phone lying abandoned in front of him.
-
“Man, that’s fucking gross,” Gregg groaned as Evan unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out, laughing as he began to urinate on the quietly moaning body on the grass. The yellow liquid glinted grotesquely in the dim moonlight that filtered through the treetops, soaking into Bam’s bloodied jeans.
“What? You got a problem with me pissing on trash or something?” Evan sneered, wriggling his penis to dislodge the last drips of urine before tucking his dick back into his pants.
“You’re so fucking lucky you didn’t get any on me, or I would’ve made you drink mine, you douche,” Darren growled from where he was trying to slip a noose over Bam’s head, making a face as the blood, black and thick in the dark, smeared over his fingers. The skater’s face was hardly recognisable, bruised and swollen completely on one side due to a brutally broken cheekbone from Darren smashing his face in to keep him from yelling for help. His nose was mangled, blood steadily pouring from his nostrils and dripping from the corner of his bloodied mouth, both eyes blackened and bloated already to the point he could hardly see out of them. His body was in the same shape, chest hitching as he fought vainly for breath, broken ribs pressing painfully into his lungs and making him wheeze and cough bloodied phlegm. Limbs askew like a rag doll, twitching against the ground, his left arm completely dead and numb and his legs a mass of pain. In short, Bam looked only a few minutes away from death.
“Shit, shit, turn that thing off!” Darren hissed as a sudden ringing noise pierced the night air, the sound harsh and far too loud for his liking.
Evan fumbled with his bloodied baseball bat and then dropped it as he went to his knees, making face. “Dude, I don’t want to touch my own piss!”
“You fucking did it, so you find it! I’m not going through his pockets!” Gregg whined back, and then yelped when Darren threw a stick at his head, hitting him across the cheek.
“You’ll both fucking look, or I’ll get up and make you search with your fucking tongues,” Darren threatened, hurriedly finishing his knots on the rope around Bam’s neck. “And you, shut up!” He hissed at the injured skater, the boy muttering and moaning, disorientated from the violent blows to his head.
Gregg moaned, but joined Evan in searching through Bam’s pockets, making a face at the wet smelly material he was forced to finger through.
“Hurry up!” Darren snarled, head snapping up when he heard voices coming from nearby.
“Hey, you hear that?”
“Hear what? Man, it was probably some junkie or something.”
“Nah dude, I swear, I think it’s a phone ringing…”
“Fuck, fuck,” Darren snarled. The one night he picked to get his revenge on a normally empty park and some dumbfucks decide to go for a little stroll. “Get the fucking phone and shut it up before they come looking!” he hissed, hoping that the people wouldn’t see them through the bushes. Damn it, they should’ve gone further in but he’d been too eager to get his hands on the skater and kick his head in to really care.
“Found it!” Gregg said triumphantly, holding up Bam’s phone, miraculously still intact even after the thorough beating its owner had gone through. Darren had taken great pleasure in the sound of the dull thuds his bat had made when making contact with Bam’s helpless and confused body, revelled in Bam’s pained moans as his ribs had cracked and broken, as his flesh had been bruised and his bones had fractured. It had been fun to poke the guy up with their bats, make him half stumble as he tried to get away, dazed, and then beat him back down. The rush had been great, almost as good as a pure hit. Now, it was slowly dwindling away as the realisation that he may not be able to complete his revenge set in, and all because of a fucking phone that wouldn’t stop ringing.
Snatching the damn thing out of Gregg’s hand, the big jock threw the still ringing phone to the ground and stomped viciously on it, the plastic cracking under his foot and the annoying sound warping and then dying out in a feeble squeal of broken electronics. Darren grinned in satisfaction at the silence.
But then Bam moaned loudly, finally registering the voices in the background through the haze of full body pain and turned his head towards them agonizingly, calling for help even if his bloodied mouth wouldn’t work properly.
“Holy shit, I think somebody is hurt in there!”
“Fucking hell,” Darren hissed and kicked Bam in the head again, the skater groaning as his cheek fractured once more and blood flew, splattering against the grass in dark splotches.
Evan began to panic as the sound of people crashing through the bushes reached his ears. He didn’t want to get caught beating somebody to death. “Man, what’re we gonna do? Should we run?” He said, shifting on his feet, looking nervously in the direction of the noises.
“Damn it!” Darren snarled, throwing the rope to the ground. There wasn’t going to be time to string Margera up like a dead possum. “Get the gasoline, quick!” He hissed, and Gregg fumbled for the small tank off the side in the dark, taking the lid off but then dropping the container in his haste, swearing.
The sounds of people approaching got louder, and Bam muttered disorientated words, his eyes rolling back into his head as he fought for breath against his broken ribs. Darren got his lighter out and flicked the flame on, grinning as the small fire illuminated his face. Even if he didn’t get to fulfil his original plan, lighting fire to the little fuck was going to be heavenly. He watched as Gregg hurriedly splashed the gasoline around the skater, missing his body in his panicked haste and making Darren swear viciously at him. He managed to get some on Bam’s twitching body in the end, and dumped the container, stumbling after Evan as the other boy began to run in the opposite direction of the people coming. Darren sneered after them and moved to the side, looking down at Bam’s broken and bloodied body with murderous eyes.
“Bye bye, Margera.” He sang, deranged, “It’s a shame that you can’t be around to see me fuck the little Finnish freak till he expires on my dick, but I’ll take what I can get. Oh, and this is going to hurt!” He smiled, and dropped his lighter into the gasoline, laughing as it went up in a whoosh and the heat flared in his face, illuminating the bushes around him and his devil face. He wanted to stick around to see the flames engulf the skater, hear his screams as he was burnt alive, but the people were coming and he had no desire to be identified. He still had work to do, after all.
Laughing happily to himself, Darren spun on his heels and disappeared further into the bushes just as Bam’s hoarse screaming, high-pitched and agonised, eerily like a dying animal, begun.
-Chapter 20
A/N: Heh, well, it's been a while guys. :/ Sorry about that, I hope people are still reading this. :O Not the best written chapter but I thought you've waited long enough so, here it is! Good news also, I have a two week break coming up so updates should start up again, so no more long waits (I hope)!
Comments, so I know people are still reading and that I should still finish the story? :3
Rating: This chapter, R-16
Pairing: Vam!
Summary: High school AU. A repressed Ville has had a crush on Bam for years, but the skater has never noticed him. However, when he does, Ville begins to break out of his confines with the skater’s help and Bam finally finds some stability in his life. But everybody knows things do not always go well.
Previous Chapters~ Here
19-
Ville fought weakly against his mother as she dragged him away from the payphone, nails biting into his arm as he reached for the receiver with wounded hands, wanting to hear Bam’s voice just one more time before he was ripped away from him. “Mother, let me go! Please!” He cried, voice rasping painfully in his throat.
“Shut up! Shut up!” Anita hissed under her breath, looking around at the people stopping and staring at the mother and son fighting over a phone at the airport. “Fucking hell, be quiet you little shit!” She snarled, spotting a large disabled toilet that was a room of its own. They were just outside the toilets, her son being able to get out of her sight by pleading he needed to go. Apparently, the men’s toilets had two entrances, leading out from opposite sides, and Ville had been able to walk out the one he didn’t enter by and get to a payphone. She’d gotten suspicious though, and walked through the female toilets to see him talking rapidly into the receiver, dissolving into tears, and she’d lost it, ripping the phone out of his hands and hanging it up, turning around the shake him violently by the shoulders before dragging him away.
Even if his mother was stick thin and looked like she was wasting away, she had a strong grip that was unrelenting on him, and Ville was too weak from his ordeal the night before, still dizzy from the blow to the head and the resultant blood loss to properly fight her off. From the view of the people staring around them, it looked like he was only barely struggling against his mother as she dragged him into the disabled toilets and locked the door behind them, smiling apologetically at the crowd blinking at them before they disappeared from sight. The people figured not much was going on, just the normal sullen teenager not wanting to do something and the mother having to sort him out in the privacy of a bathroom. They went on their way, muttering to themselves about youths these days.
Inside the bathroom however, something entirely different then what they had in their minds was going on. Ville was on his knees in the middle of the small room, cowering as his mother hit him repetitively around the back of the head with an open fist, the thuds the violent contact made echoing quietly around the tiled walls. He didn’t even try to stop her, just covered his head and sobbed, shivering, getting progressively dizzier as her blows reopened the wound on the back of his head, spilling more blood into his already dried-blood matted hair. The only reason nobody had seen it was because of his hat his mother had forced on him that morning, when she’d dragged him, still disorientated from the bottle to the head, to his bedroom to pack and then into the car. It was only when he’d realised where they had arrived when he had started to fight back and had gone for the payphones. There weren’t even any bruises on his face, just hidden under his clothes, so nobody had stopped them when he had to show his face for his passport. The slaps to the face had only left faint red marks, and his mother had wiped the dried blood roughly from his face in the car with some tissues she had had in the glove box.
“You come quietly, do you understand me?” She was saying, quietly but not without venom to not alert people outside what was really happening as she swung her hand, “after all I’ve fucking done for you, clothed you, fed you, schooled you, you do this one last fucking thing for me after ruining my life!” Anita hissed, growling out her frustration as she began to hit harder.
Ville squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, sniffing and swaying slightly forward from each hit she made, groaning. He still shook his head as he whimpered though. No. He may go with her as she forced him to, but he would never fully and willingly want to leave Bam. He would resist with all he had, even if it wasn’t much at the moment. He had no strength left to truly fight against her, to get away from her and run to Bam.
Anita almost howled in rage when her defiant son shook his head and kicked him square in the back, making Ville cry out silently from having the air forced out of him. He fell forward onto the antiseptic smelling tiles, rasping his sobs out as his cheek pressed against the cold surface.
“God, you useless little faggot fuck!” She snarled in anger and then put her hand to her pounding head. The anger was boiling through her veins and she was suddenly light-headed and nauseous from all the physical activity and rage she was feeling. Anita stumbled against the wall, aborting another kick towards her son as she felt the familiar burn of vomit coming up her throat.
She barely made it to the toilet before she expelled the putrid contents of her stomach, coughing and shaking from the force of it, tears forming in her reddened eyes. Her body was simply not used to this.
Ville just curled up on the floor, clutching his aching head and feeling his heart shrivel up in his chest. He didn’t go to his ailing mother like he normally did when he heard her throw up in the middle of the night, or even day, just listened and hoped that she felt so fucking sick that she couldn’t go on and they would go back home and he’d be able to fall into Bam’s arms and never leave them again.
Anita coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she finished, and pined her anger-deadened eyes on Ville, rasping out cruel words. “I never loved you. You were a fucking mistake. Jesse… Jesse was meant to make everything better. This is all your fucking fault. You made me like this. I’m not a bad mother, I’m not. This is all… your doing.” She accused quietly, critically.
Ville whimpered, covering his ears. Rationally, he knew that none of it was his fault, that is mother was in denial and deranged from alcohol, but after years of emotional abuse and now physical, even Bam’s love and reassurances that he was worth it, couldn’t keep the words from digging into his chest and taking root in his flesh, spreading poison tendrils through his blood and into his brain.
“After ruining my life, your father’s life, killing your little brother, the least you can do is fuck off quietly. I’m even helping you, you little faggot.” Anita coughed and spat, standing on shaking legs and flushing the toilet, the rank smell of her mostly liquid vomit disappearing. “There’s not point in you staying. I don’t love you, never did, and your father… well. He’d rather have a son who liked pussy.” She laughed softly.
“Bam… Bam loves me,” Ville tried, whispering into the wounded hands covering his tear soaked face.
Anita sneered, her stomach roiling in disgust but realising that this, this was the weak spot. “You think that your boyfriend loves you? As soon as he’s had enough of your ugly arse he’ll dump you for another fag. Homosexuals do not love, they lust. And shit, who the fuck would love you? Look at you. As soon as this Bam realises what a wimp he’s been fucking he’ll run for the hills.”
Ville flinched, trying to ignore her words. In the right state of mind he would’ve been able to, but at the moment, he was anything but; traumatised and wounded and scared and lonely. Everything she was saying was bringing out hidden fears from deep within him, that maybe one day Bam would realise how unworthy he was of his love, because look at him- curled up on a dirty airport bathroom floor covered in bruises, not even able to fight off a crazed and weakened alcoholic woman, to stand up for himself. And he’d fooled himself into thinking he had been making progress just yesterday.
Ville sobbed and gave up. On the airport bathroom floor, painfully public but hidden, Ville went still and quiet and did not resist when his mother yanked him up by the arm.
-
After Bam had finished beating up his steering wheel and gained enough of his composure back, he drove home, stray tears still leaking from his eyes, his hands shaking on the wheel. He didn’t bother parking in the garage, so he just left his car in the driveway and walked into his house and up the stairs to his room like a zombie.
Bam stood in the middle of his room, just looking around with blank blue eyes. Everything in his room reminded him of Ville and tugged at his heart, making him choke up. His bed where they had lain together and touched each other with curious fingers and kissed with passionate wet mouths, pictures and scribbles drawn by Ville tacked to his wall, books strewn over his desk that the Finn had been reading and hadn’t bothered to bring home, even the video camera on Bam’s bedside table that was full of videos of Ville. However, it was the innocent tube of strawberry gloss lying beside it that made Bam lose it, emotions pouring out as with a roar he swept everything off his desk to the floor, trinkets and books and folders and left over plates clattering to the floor. Shouting, he picked up one of his skateboards lying around and chucked it at the wall, not caring about the dent it made as it collided, and broke another one by stamping furiously on it. He raged around his room, throwing everything he could get his hands on and upturning every piece of furniture he could before he sunk down onto the carpet, sobbing into his hands as he knelt in the remains of his alarm clock.
Bam remained like that in the ruins of his room, only changing position to lie on the carpet on his back and stare helplessly up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, just trying not to think of anything, knowing that if he did he would go fucking crazy again and probably end up killing somebody. Plus, it was just too painful to think that he would never see his gorgeous Finn again. They hadn’t been able to even say a proper goodbye…
Hours went by in a haze and he distantly heard his mother and father come home from work in the evening. Thankfully, they left him alone, and not even April came up to bring him down for dinner. If he had been in the right state of mind, Bam wouldn’t have thought it strange that April hadn’t checked on him yet. The skater even ignored his stomach as it rumbled at him, not having anything to eat since breakfast.
He knew in the back of his mind that it wasn’t the end of their relationship; they’d be able to ring each other and hear each other’s voices, talk over the internet and even see each other with web-cams, but it wouldn’t be the same. They would be brought together with technology but ultimately held apart by it, separated by phone lines and computer screens. Bam would never be able to hold Ville ever again, kiss him or touch his smooth skin, smell his scent and bury his hands in his silky brown curls, make love to him. Bam bit back a sob and hit the carpet under him with a tight fist, feeling his heart break in his chest. And god, how was Ville feeling? He must be a complete wreck; he’d sounded like it on the phone, desperate and heartbroken and resigned all at the same time. Bam ached to hold Ville in his arms, soothe him and in turn soothe himself, to make sure that Ville wouldn’t turn his self-hatred again onto himself for leaving Bam, for letting his mother walk all over him again.
Suddenly, his phone started ringing in his pocket again and Bam shot up, fumbling for it in his pocket, hoping that it was Ville ringing him from Finland.
His face fell when he saw the caller ID. He rejected the call with his thumb and collapsed back onto his back, just staring at his phones wallpaper of Ville’s sleeping face with tired eyes.
Biting his lip, Bam hung up as the person tried to ring him again, and cursed quietly when they persisted, ringing over and over. Growling, he finally answered, putting the phone to his ear as he stared up at the ceiling and at the ruined remains of the light bulb. Couldn’t people just leave him alone?
“Jenn, what the fuck do you want?” He snarled.
His ex-girlfriend was obviously taken aback by his aggressive greeting, stuttering over her words. “Um, uh, Bam, I really need to talk to you.” Her voice was tinny over the connection, oddly false.
Bam closed his eyes. An image of Ville’s gorgeous face burned on the back of his eyelids. “Then fucking talk, Jenn. I’m seriously not in the mood.”
“…Not over the phone. It’s really important.”
“Fucking hell, I don’t give a shit. Go whine to somebody else, I’m hanging up,” he said and started to terminate the call, freezing mid motion as Jenn yelled something over the phone.
“Bam, I’m fucking pregnant! Don’t you DARE hang up on me!” She screamed, voice breaking painfully as she started to cry, breath hitching as she sobbed and swallowed loudly in vain to keep them back.
No. Bam thought. No, this can’t be fucking happening. Not now.
“Bam-… Bam, are you there?” Jenn hiccuped.
“Is-” Bam started, choking on his words as he sat up, putting his face in his free hand. “Is it mine?”
“The timing fits, and you’re, you’re the only one I’ve had sex with in a while.”
Bam didn’t even have the energy to scoff at that. “It can’t be fucking mine, we used a rubber every time,” he said, looking for anything, any excuse to make this just go away.
Jenn hiccuped again, sniffing. “Remember that time when it broke?”
God. “But you said you were on the fucking pill for Christ’s sake,” Bam said helplessly. Please, just be a bad dream. Just, the entire day, a complete nightmare, and he’d wake up in his bed and drive to the park and be able to see Ville’s smiling face and kiss him good morning and share the story of this crazy dream he had and Ville would laugh and hug him and say he would never leave Bam, ever. Fucking hell, he was begging here.
“…I might’ve forgotten to take it a few times,” Jenn whimpered and Bam bit his lip, forcing back tears. The world was falling around his ears and he just- hell, he couldn’t cope. He just wanted to curl up on his bed with Ville in his arms and sleep for days.
“Are you sure?” He whispered, trying one last time, hoping it was just some cruel joke, but he knew Jenn would’ve never contacted him again after their break-up if it weren’t sometime dire.
“Of course I’m fucking sure!” Jenn shouted, “I took three pregnancy tests and even went to a fucking doctor. I’m pregnant Bam, now please,” she sobbed, loosing her sudden burst of anger, “come talk to me and help me, I don’t know what to do.”
Bam’s shoulders fell and he closed his eyes in resignation, felling a weight press down unbearably heavy on his body. He didn’t know what she expected him to do, but he couldn’t just leave her. If she was telling the truth and the baby was his, god- “Okay,” he finally whispered, voice flat and helpless.
Jenn took a deep breath over the phone. “I’m at the park on Eden’s street. I can’t- I can’t do this at home, my parents are there and I just- I hoped a neutral stop would stop us from blowing up at each other. Hurry?”
Bam dragged himself up onto his feet. “Yeah, I’ll be there in ten,” he said and hung up, his arm dropping boneless to his side. He hung his head for a few seconds, just standing, before he walked out of his wrecked bedroom and down the stairs, his heart a stone in his stomach.
-
“He’s coming.” Jenn put her phone in her pocket and sniffed, wiping her cheeks and making a face at her running eyeliner. “Damn it, I hope you’re fucking happy, my make-up is ruined,” she huffed, turning to face three boys dressed in dark clothes standing next to her.
Darren grinned at her, teeth flashing in the dark. “Oh, I’m happy. Nice performance.”
“Yeah, you should be a actor or something. Wouldn’t mind seeing you on TV, if you know what I mean,” one of the boys leered at her, staring at her chest, and Jenn bristled, feeling demeaned.
“Fuck off, Evan, you’re not here to get laid,” Darren snapped and turned back to her. “Sit down and wait for our little friend, why don’t you?”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snarled but sat down anyway on the park bench, eyeing the baseball bats the three boys wielded and the small tank of a liquid that looked suspiciously like gasoline one of them held in their hands, along with a bag of objects she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know about. “You’re not going to hurt him too bad, are you?” She asked tentatively. Sure, Jenn wanted Bam to hurt, to feel pain she had felt over being dumped so humiliatingly, but she didn’t want him to die or anything.
Darren sneered at her as he twirled the bat around in his big fingers, his two friends laughing at her scared tone. Suddenly, Jenn wasn’t sure this was such a good idea.
“Oh, we won’t hurt him too bad,” one of the boys laughed, Jenn was pretty sure his name was Gregg.
“Shut up,” Darren jeered, “you said you were in, little girl, you’re not backing out now, are you?” His brown eyes flashed dangerously in the dim light provided by the only streetlight, and Jenn hurriedly shook her head, not wanting those bats to be turned on her.
“Good,” Darren said. “Now sit and do your bit like a good little bitch.” He turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the big park. It was probably why Darren had chose it, it was pretty out of the way and big with plenty of bushes and trees to lurk in and the nearest house wasn’t too close. At night the park was notorious for mugging and rapes because of the poor lighting, and Jenn was kind of afraid, sitting here on the park bench in plain sight. She persevered anyway, making a face as Evan leered at her suggestively but followed after his leader into the ominous dark of the night.
Shivering, she waited in the seemingly empty park, wondering if this really was the right thing to do, for their unsuspecting prey to arrive.
-
April blinked as she saw Bam walk quietly past their bedroom door while she read in bed, Phil already snoring beside her. Looking at the alarm clock on her bedside table she frowned when she saw that it was almost midnight.
What is he doing? She thought, hearing the front door slam and his car start, pulling out of the driveway. Usually she wouldn’t let him out so late, but it was getting harder and harder to look at her son when in the back of her mind she was constantly arguing with herself about if Bam was really gay or not. It was persistently in her head, nagging at her, and she found that she couldn’t concentrate at all on anything, unable to focus on her work and even sleep, which was why she was still up. She hadn’t even been able to walk up the stairs to check on Bam when his room had been eerily quiet, not even his usual heavy metal music blaring out of his speakers. April knew he had been home because his car was in the driveway when she got back from work, and she had lingered at the bottom of the stairs, reluctant to go up and call him down for dinner, and in the end had walked back into the kitchen and told Phil that Bam wasn’t hungry when he had asked why his son wasn’t joining them.
He’s probably meeting Ville for a late night rendezvous, April thought bitterly to herself as she closed her book and put it away, sighing and putting her face in her hands. She looked helplessly at her husband lying beside her for a moment, his back facing her, and then slipped out of bed, shrugging on her dressing gown. Well, if Bam was out his room was empty, so she could snoop around a little bit and look for some clues. There probably wouldn’t be anything incriminating lying around, like, god forgive her, a gay porn magazine, but not knowing was driving her crazy.
Brushing a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she ascended the stairs and paused outside of Bam’s closed door, biting her lip. She was afraid of what she would find.
Oh, for God’s sake, you’re a grown woman, she admonished herself. Taking a deep breath, she pushed back her apprehension and opened Bam’s door, gasping when she saw the state of Bam’s room.
“What the hell?” April muttered, walking in to stand in the middle of the bedroom to take in the devastation. Bam was so dead when he came home. He had basically destroyed his room beyond repair. The walls were dented and chipped from various objects being thrown at them, all the furniture upended, his desk chair in pieces on the floor along with everything else, his bed covers ripped and the mattress thrown across the room, forlornly lying on the pushed over bookcase, even all his CDs were scattered over the carpet, some whole but most in shards, lying around his kicked in speakers. She was surprised that the door and window was actually intact from the amount of ruin she was seeing.
Something serious must have happened to prompt Bam to destroy all his possessions so carelessly like this. Now April wasn’t sure that she should’ve let Bam go at this time of night in the state of mind he would be in from the appearance of his room. Even if she wasn’t sure about Bam’s sexual preference and if she could accept it, she was still her son’s mother and she was worried.
“Sweetie, what happened?” She muttered to herself, looking around with confused eyes before she stepped backwards to go down the stairs to ring Bam and make him come home. Yelping, she looked down when she stood on something hard, blinking when she saw it was an undamaged black CD case that was zipped closed, probably containing a couple different disks. It looked liked it had fallen out of Bam’s bedside drawers which were overturned, the drawers pulled out.
She bent over and picked it up, turning it over in her hands and seeing no label anywhere. Curious, she unzipped it, opening the case and flipping through the writable disks, reading what Bam had titled each disk with black marker…
Ville - skate park - video, photos
Ville - candid - mostly library, bedroom
Ville - cooking (such a good little wifey. XD)
Ville - funny
Ville - FOR MY EYES ONLY, BITCHEZ
…Were only a few. Eyes widening, April closed the case and held it in trembling fingers. She took a deep breath. She felt bad going through Bam’s obviously private things, but this, this was going to hold all the answers.
Hoping against hope, she gingerly made her way out of Bam’s room and down the stairs and into the study, booting up the computer. As the screen lit up it threw eerie blue light against her face, illuminating her features and exaggerating the lines in her skin. Biting her lip, she sat in the computer chair, waiting for the screen to show the desktop as she selected one of the disks, completely avoiding the one labelled for Bam’s eyes only. She chose the one titled just <3 Ville :), hoping it was safe for her to view, and popped it into the disk drive and waited for it to load, heart pounding in her chest as the media player popped up.
The first thing she heard was Bam’s voice. “You’re like a kitten, I swear, Ville.”
The image was blurred and April couldn’t make anything out, but then it focused and she was looking into big green eyes and flushed cheeks, brown hair slicked back with water from the pretty face. “I’m not an animal, Bam-Bam.” The eyes blinked as they looked into the camera as the person spoke. “What’re you doing?”
Oh god, no, April thought, moaning as she put her face in her hands. The voice was deep - a boy’s voice.
“Recording you,” came Bam’s voice, and there was no doubt about it that Ville was actually very male as the camera moved backwards, revealing that they were in a pool and showing Ville’s flat chest and small boy hips clearly through his wet clothes. April watched with devastated eyes as the pretty boy on the screen advanced on Bam through the water and slung his arms around Bam’s neck, the camera tilting to show her son’s and Ville’s smiling lips nearing each other.
Turning her head away, she clicked out of the video in disgust as they started to kiss. Feeling like she was going to throw up, she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her heart sink down to her stomach, which was beginning to simmer in anger.
April had her answer.
-
Bam parked his car outside the park and just sat there for a few minutes, head back against the headrest and his eyes closed. He contemplated killing himself, just by bashing his head on his steering wheel so many times that his forehead split open and his brains oozed out, but he knew he couldn’t. Completely resigned and hopeless, he sighed and shook his head slowly as he stepped out of his car, heading towards the lonely figure of his ex-girlfriend that he could barely see in the darkness of the night sitting on a bench beside the eerie empty playground. If he had been in a better state of mind, he would have been wondering what the hell he was doing here, and why Jenn had called him so late at night and made him come to this park, which was so far away from where she actually lived. He would’ve been suspicious and probably would’ve never left home, just told her to suck it up and he would speak to her in the morning after she’d calmed down and had some sleep.
Stopping in front of her, shoulders drooping, Bam looked at the ground. “I’m here.”
Jenn looked at him and frowned, opening her mouth as she glanced around, clearly nervous from her fiddling fingers on her short skirt. “Bam, ru-” She tried to warn, standing up and reaching for him, but it was too late. A dark figure silently appeared behind the skater and hit an unwary Bam squarely over the head with a baseball bat, making his blue eyes roll up into his head as he crumpled to the ground, dazed severely. Jenn screeched quietly and then slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror.
The blonde gasped and flinched as Darren pinned her with a dangerous brown gaze. “I hope you weren’t going to do what I thought you were,” he hissed. Jenn shook her head hurriedly, taking a step back and watching with wide eyes as Evan and Gregg grabbed a groaning Bam by his ankles and began to drag him further into the park and into the shadows, laughing to themselves.
“Good,” Darren smiled and began to follow after them, his teeth flashing ominously in the dark as he fixed his eyes on Bam’s prone form. “Now fuck off and do some girly shit or something, you’ve done your bit. And if you say a word about this to anyone…” He trailed off, and Jenn shivered at the violent tone in his voice, coiling back in fear.
“I swear, I won’t,” her voice trembled from behind her hands.
Darren grinned menacingly at her once more, and then disappeared after the two other boys into the dark, gripping the baseball bat in his fingers with anticipation. He would get his revenge on Margera, and then the sweet little Finnish whore would be ripe for the picking.
Jenn watched him go until he had disappeared into the bushes, biting her lip, and then turned around and walked to her car parked beside Bam’s, looking at the black vehicle with unsure eyes. She took a deep breath and looked away from it, slipping into her own car. There was no sign of the four boys at in the park any more as she peered out of her windscreen into the dark.
It was too late to do anything now. She couldn’t tell anybody about this, because she would be blamed also for her part in it. Jenn could only hope that they didn’t kill Bam.
Starting the car, she drove away, not looking back once as tears slowly started to drip down her pallid cheeks.
-
They’d only arrived minutes ago and already Matti was fighting with his older sister in the next room. Anette wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was as the shouting was mostly in English and she could only understand a little of it, but she knew enough to work out that it had something to do with the boy currently sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over with his hair covering his face. He hadn’t said a word since he’d emerged from the taxi with his mother in the early below freezing Helsinki morning air, hadn’t responded to any of Anette’s prompts, hadn’t made a sound at all actually. The only sign that he was even alive was the slight movement of his thin shoulders up and down as he breathed, and even that was understated, like he was afraid to move much. Anette didn’t even know his name.
Biting her lip, the woman swept her messy blonde hair up in a bun as she turned away from the boy staring down at the tabletop as the electric kettle boiled and switched itself off. The kitchen lights were dim as she poured hot water into two mugs already with tea bags in them, the artificial lighting needed as it was still too early for the sun to be up. Them arriving at such an early hour in the morning probably wasn’t helping Matti’s, her boyfriend, mood either, as the shouting began to escalate in the living room, both voices trying to be heard over the others. Anette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, turning away from the kitchen counter as she tried to ignore the loud fight.
“Here,” Anette said softly in Finnish, placing a steaming mug of tea in front of the boy and sitting down opposite him with her own. He didn’t respond or acknowledge her, didn’t even look like he had noticed something had been put in front of him. Anette sighed softly and curled her fingers around the worn china, breathing in the warm wisps of tea to fight away the coldness of the kitchen.
Taking a sip, she studied the seemingly unresponsive boy in front of her, his head bowed in what seemed like defeat and arms wrapped tight around his body, like all the comfort he could get was from his own embrace. Poor thing, she thought. She didn’t know what he’d done to be suddenly uprooted from his home in America and dumped on some relative he probably hardly knew after a nine hour long flight through the night, and she didn’t ask. But she didn’t think this harmless looking thing could possibly do anything so terrible.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes, and the shouting went on, grating on her nerves. Anette flinched when it sounded like something broke, but didn’t get up to see what it was, just took another sip of her tea, trying to emit calmness. The boy continued to just sit there and after a few minutes started to shiver.
Anette’s eyes softened. “You should drink your tea. It’s cold here, it’ll warm you up,” she said softly, trying to prompt him to do anything. His stillness was beginning to worry her. “I swear, I’m not bad at making tea. I can drink mine, see?”
Anette held her mug up in vain to demonstrate her point but the boy didn’t respond. After a few seconds had passed she sighed, putting the mug back down on the tabletop. God, she didn’t know what to do. The boy was obviously in some kind of shock and Anette was helpless. The situation was just so utterly awkward.
But then there was movement. The boy hesitantly unwrapped his arms from around his body, the motion stiff and slow as if he was in pain, and quietly curled his pale hands around the still warm mug. He didn’t pick it up and bring it to his lips however, just sat there again, as still and silent as anything. Anette, for a moment, wasn’t actually sure that he had moved, he’d done it so inconspicuously. She smiled though; at least this was progress.
But then she saw something that made her heart stop in her chest. “What happened to your hands?” Anette blurted out when she got a good look at the thin fingers curled around the mug, the long baggy sleeves falling away and revealing skin littered with small painful looking cuts. The boy flinched away from her loud exclamation and snatched his hands away from the mug, tucking them protectively into his stomach and not saying a word.
Anette winced. Now it looked like she wasn’t going to get anything out of him at all. But his hands… God, they looked painful. And he hadn’t even put any dressings on them and they had looked only a day old at the best.
“I’m sorry,” she apologised awkwardly, “no more loud noises, I promise. Though we might have a problem if Matti and your mother keep shouting like that,” Anette tried, but again, the boy was wordless. Sighing, Anette bit her lip and gulped at her cooling tea, listening with half an ear to the fighting still going on. Good god, that woman could shout. And her tone was so brash and violent, easily matching Matti’s masculine voice in loudness. From what Anette could hear, and what she saw from when she greeted Anita at the door, her voice matched her personality perfectly. The blonde was starting to get an inkling of why this boy was so timid.
Anette finished her tea. With the lack of anything better to do and the need to keep busy and chase the awkwardness of the situation away, she swept up their mugs when it became obvious that the boy wasn’t going to touch his tea and washed them out in the kitchen sink, taking longer than necessary and drying them with the dishcloth. When she was done she leant against the counter with her hip, feeling relief that the siblings’ shouting match was beginning to die down. From the looks of things they were finally coming to an agreement.
“Do you even speak Finnish?” Anette murmured to herself and then looked out the window, just being able to see out into the dark through the reflection in the glass of the kitchen. There was a small dusting of snow on the ground, which wasn’t unusual. She looked back at the boy. He wasn’t dressed for such cold weather, just some baggy cargos, a thin sweater and a huge hat that covered his face. And he’d only come with a small backpack, and even that had looked only half full.
Oh, Anette blinked when she realised that the boy had turned his head. Following his line of sight, she saw that he was looking at the phone on the wall.
“Do you… want to use the phone?” She asked hesitantly, walking over to it and picking the plastic thing off its holder, holding it out to the boy. It took a second for him to reach up slowly and curl his fingers around it, avoiding her hand, and Anette didn’t mention again the state of his poor fingers.
“Thank you,” the boy muttered in Finnish and Anette’s lips quirked up. Ah, so he did speak, even if his voice was hoarse and painfully timid. Sitting down again at the kitchen table and crossing her ankles, she watched curiously as the boy pressed in a few numbers and held the phone to his ear. Judging from the length of the number sequence it was a cell phone number.
Since the shouting from the living room had died down and had only become a quiet murmuring, Anette could hear the phone ringing from the small speaker held to the boy’s ear, and consequently heard when it abruptly cut off a while later. That’s odd, she thought to herself, and watched as the boy frowned, hesitating as he took the phone from his ear as he looked at it for a moment. Then he dialled again.
A few seconds of silence after the phone tried to connect, and then: ‘The number you have called is unavailable. Please try again later.’
Somehow, Anette knew that the boy didn’t want or need to hear that. Fingers beginning to shake, he dialled once more, bringing the phone to his ear in a white-knuckled grip, his other hand clutched hopefully to his chest.
‘The number you have called is unavailable. Please try again later.’
Anette’s face dropped sadly as the boy dialled again and again, each attempt becoming more and more desperate, his entire body beginning to tremble violently as each time he got the same monotone voice saying the same words. Her heart fell to her stomach in pity when she realised that he had begun to cry silently, tears dripping from his chin and plopping forlornly onto the worn wood of the table. There was something always so heart-wrenching about somebody who was able to weep without making a single sound, as if they thought that their pain wasn’t worth the world hearing them. Continuing to watch, Anette clutched at the material of her nightclothes covering her thighs, biting her lip to keep from telling him to stop, stop so he didn’t cause himself anymore pain.
After maybe the fifteenth dial the boy let the phone fall from his wounded fingers. It clattered to the table loudly, and Anette watched with tears burning in her own eyes as the boy buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking violently from his silent sobs.
“Oh, darling,” she cooed, getting up from her seat in the need to comfort him. “Sweetie, it’s alright, please calm down.” Frowning in sympathy, she tried to pat him on the shoulder, not sure if a hug would be accepted, but he flinched away from the contact, breath hitching as he continued to cry forlornly.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
At the loud voice Anette flinched and spun around on the kitchen tiles to see Matti, her boyfriend, standing in the doorway, looking dishevelled and thoroughly dissatisfied. The expression on his face could only be described thunderous and Anette winced. “Matti, please, not so loud.” She gestured to the boy, trying to convey his distress.
Matti just snorted, running his hands through his short dark hair. “It’s too early for this shit. I’m going to back to bed. Nobody better disturb me or there will be hell to pay.” He threatened, “and the boy is fucking staying.” He shook his head as he said this, like he couldn’t believe it, and disappeared from the doorway. Anette frowned, pressing down a spark of anger as she was left standing in the kitchen in her dressing gown. Sure, Matti was gorgeous and she loved him, but sometimes he could be such an insensitive arsehole that she just wanted to throttle him.
“Sorry about that,” Anette sighed, going back to the boy but only being interrupted once again when Anita appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with her eyes narrowed on her son. The gaze put Anette’s teeth on edge and she suddenly had the urge to put herself between the two, to shield the distressed boy from that look. Even the boy’s back froze as much as his trembling allowed, sensing such a venomous stare aimed at his back, but he didn’t turn around to look at his mother.
“Did you… want some tea?” Anette asked hesitantly when Anita made no attempt to say anything.
The piercing haze settled on her and the blonde woman flinched back. God, but this woman… Those eyes peering out of her sallow pale face, lined by deep bag-bruised eyes gave Anette a grim shiver down her spine and made her want to hide under the table.
“No.” Anita said, sneering. “I’m leaving. Don’t want to stay in this god-forsaken hellhole any longer than I have to. If this sad excuse for a fucking human being gives you any trouble you have my permission to dump him on the streets. He’s fucking lucky that I didn’t do that in the first place.”
What kind of mother says that about her child, especially when they’re in the room? Anette thought, horrified. This woman is a monster.
She looked to the boy to see his reaction, but he hadn’t even responded to the cruel words, was just still sitting there with his face in his hands. Anette got the feeling that he was used to this kind of treatment. The cuts on his hands were probably this despicable woman’s handy work too.
Anette looked back at Anita, her fists clenched and her mouth ready to spit some choice words, but the doorway was empty. A few seconds later and she heard the front door slam. Good riddance, she thought crossly, glad that the woman had left in such a hurry. I hope she gets hit by a bus.
“I guess you’re staying with us, then,” Anette sighed, turning back to the boy. She really had to find out his name soon, Anette couldn’t just keep on calling him ‘the boy’. It was so demeaning. But now wasn’t the time. He was still hiccuping into his hands, his shoulders still trembling from sobs that were only now just dying down. The best thing she could think of doing was to let him calm down on his own. He’d already expressed his feelings about not wanting her comfort by flinching away from her, and she couldn’t do much else, even if her heart ached to take him into her arms and tell him that everything was going to be fine, that she would take care of him and that he didn’t need to see his horrible mother any more.
Hovering a hand over the boy’s thin shoulder, Anette bit her lip and let it drop down uselessly by her side. “I’ll go make up the spare bedroom. You just sit tight here, okay?” Slippered feet soft against the kitchen tiles, she retreated from the kitchen, giving one last look at the forlorn boy sitting lonely at the table, hunched over and despondent, the blood smeared phone lying abandoned in front of him.
-
“Man, that’s fucking gross,” Gregg groaned as Evan unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out, laughing as he began to urinate on the quietly moaning body on the grass. The yellow liquid glinted grotesquely in the dim moonlight that filtered through the treetops, soaking into Bam’s bloodied jeans.
“What? You got a problem with me pissing on trash or something?” Evan sneered, wriggling his penis to dislodge the last drips of urine before tucking his dick back into his pants.
“You’re so fucking lucky you didn’t get any on me, or I would’ve made you drink mine, you douche,” Darren growled from where he was trying to slip a noose over Bam’s head, making a face as the blood, black and thick in the dark, smeared over his fingers. The skater’s face was hardly recognisable, bruised and swollen completely on one side due to a brutally broken cheekbone from Darren smashing his face in to keep him from yelling for help. His nose was mangled, blood steadily pouring from his nostrils and dripping from the corner of his bloodied mouth, both eyes blackened and bloated already to the point he could hardly see out of them. His body was in the same shape, chest hitching as he fought vainly for breath, broken ribs pressing painfully into his lungs and making him wheeze and cough bloodied phlegm. Limbs askew like a rag doll, twitching against the ground, his left arm completely dead and numb and his legs a mass of pain. In short, Bam looked only a few minutes away from death.
“Shit, shit, turn that thing off!” Darren hissed as a sudden ringing noise pierced the night air, the sound harsh and far too loud for his liking.
Evan fumbled with his bloodied baseball bat and then dropped it as he went to his knees, making face. “Dude, I don’t want to touch my own piss!”
“You fucking did it, so you find it! I’m not going through his pockets!” Gregg whined back, and then yelped when Darren threw a stick at his head, hitting him across the cheek.
“You’ll both fucking look, or I’ll get up and make you search with your fucking tongues,” Darren threatened, hurriedly finishing his knots on the rope around Bam’s neck. “And you, shut up!” He hissed at the injured skater, the boy muttering and moaning, disorientated from the violent blows to his head.
Gregg moaned, but joined Evan in searching through Bam’s pockets, making a face at the wet smelly material he was forced to finger through.
“Hurry up!” Darren snarled, head snapping up when he heard voices coming from nearby.
“Hey, you hear that?”
“Hear what? Man, it was probably some junkie or something.”
“Nah dude, I swear, I think it’s a phone ringing…”
“Fuck, fuck,” Darren snarled. The one night he picked to get his revenge on a normally empty park and some dumbfucks decide to go for a little stroll. “Get the fucking phone and shut it up before they come looking!” he hissed, hoping that the people wouldn’t see them through the bushes. Damn it, they should’ve gone further in but he’d been too eager to get his hands on the skater and kick his head in to really care.
“Found it!” Gregg said triumphantly, holding up Bam’s phone, miraculously still intact even after the thorough beating its owner had gone through. Darren had taken great pleasure in the sound of the dull thuds his bat had made when making contact with Bam’s helpless and confused body, revelled in Bam’s pained moans as his ribs had cracked and broken, as his flesh had been bruised and his bones had fractured. It had been fun to poke the guy up with their bats, make him half stumble as he tried to get away, dazed, and then beat him back down. The rush had been great, almost as good as a pure hit. Now, it was slowly dwindling away as the realisation that he may not be able to complete his revenge set in, and all because of a fucking phone that wouldn’t stop ringing.
Snatching the damn thing out of Gregg’s hand, the big jock threw the still ringing phone to the ground and stomped viciously on it, the plastic cracking under his foot and the annoying sound warping and then dying out in a feeble squeal of broken electronics. Darren grinned in satisfaction at the silence.
But then Bam moaned loudly, finally registering the voices in the background through the haze of full body pain and turned his head towards them agonizingly, calling for help even if his bloodied mouth wouldn’t work properly.
“Holy shit, I think somebody is hurt in there!”
“Fucking hell,” Darren hissed and kicked Bam in the head again, the skater groaning as his cheek fractured once more and blood flew, splattering against the grass in dark splotches.
Evan began to panic as the sound of people crashing through the bushes reached his ears. He didn’t want to get caught beating somebody to death. “Man, what’re we gonna do? Should we run?” He said, shifting on his feet, looking nervously in the direction of the noises.
“Damn it!” Darren snarled, throwing the rope to the ground. There wasn’t going to be time to string Margera up like a dead possum. “Get the gasoline, quick!” He hissed, and Gregg fumbled for the small tank off the side in the dark, taking the lid off but then dropping the container in his haste, swearing.
The sounds of people approaching got louder, and Bam muttered disorientated words, his eyes rolling back into his head as he fought for breath against his broken ribs. Darren got his lighter out and flicked the flame on, grinning as the small fire illuminated his face. Even if he didn’t get to fulfil his original plan, lighting fire to the little fuck was going to be heavenly. He watched as Gregg hurriedly splashed the gasoline around the skater, missing his body in his panicked haste and making Darren swear viciously at him. He managed to get some on Bam’s twitching body in the end, and dumped the container, stumbling after Evan as the other boy began to run in the opposite direction of the people coming. Darren sneered after them and moved to the side, looking down at Bam’s broken and bloodied body with murderous eyes.
“Bye bye, Margera.” He sang, deranged, “It’s a shame that you can’t be around to see me fuck the little Finnish freak till he expires on my dick, but I’ll take what I can get. Oh, and this is going to hurt!” He smiled, and dropped his lighter into the gasoline, laughing as it went up in a whoosh and the heat flared in his face, illuminating the bushes around him and his devil face. He wanted to stick around to see the flames engulf the skater, hear his screams as he was burnt alive, but the people were coming and he had no desire to be identified. He still had work to do, after all.
Laughing happily to himself, Darren spun on his heels and disappeared further into the bushes just as Bam’s hoarse screaming, high-pitched and agonised, eerily like a dying animal, begun.
-Chapter 20
A/N: Heh, well, it's been a while guys. :/ Sorry about that, I hope people are still reading this. :O Not the best written chapter but I thought you've waited long enough so, here it is! Good news also, I have a two week break coming up so updates should start up again, so no more long waits (I hope)!
Comments, so I know people are still reading and that I should still finish the story? :3