When was the last time you were terrified?
“Hey fags! You two are fags right? One white fag and one yellow fag.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Peter don’t…”
“Peter…don’t.”
“We’re brothers. Just leave us alone.”
“Brothers?” Laughter. “Look more like sisters to me.”
“Wait, we want a date with Petey and Chinky…”
Fighting with Adam as they walked to his Jeep, that was annoyance. Aggravation at his younger brother for outing him at work; for betraying his personal life tragedies to a coworker and just to score points with their superior. Peter was less than thrilled with the fact that he was going to be defined as ‘gay Peter with the dead twin brother. Little Boy Broken.’ He wanted to be respected for his dedication to his job, not because he made for some interesting hospital gossip.
Being mocked by a trio of men who overheard the siblings squabbling. Now he was angry. Leave us alone. Shut the hell up. We’re brothers. He probably shouldn’t have responded at all but Adam had already frayed his nerves, the new taunts pushed him over the edge and he yelled back. And then it became apparent that they weren’t going to stop at the nasty name-calling and innuendo.
Panic.
Turning, the Webster boys ran, footfalls against blacktop. And Peter could hear the heavier beat of work boots pounding the ground behind them, closing in. Saw Adam, with his longer legs and larger stride, break out in front. Away.
Relief.
Peter tripped. He landed face down on the cold, garbage-laden alleyway. Before he could get up he felt the first swift kick to his ribs, a hand grabbing him by the hair and lifting his face up from the pavement. Being punched. He could taste the blood, coppery and hot, filling his mouth but it was the fist pummeling his back, the shot to the kidneys that took his breath away and kept him from crying out.
Pain.
Adam was yelling. Crying. Running again. Peter was beyond being able to defend himself, unable to move as his attackers continued to belt him in the face, kick him in the gut, someone stomped on his leg and felt something give. Still, he couldn’t cry out, he couldn’t breathe. But he could hear Adam. And he could feel. It was the worry about what they’d do to his younger brother that caused the final sensation Peter recognized before slipping into darkness.
Terror.
Peter Webster//Book of Daniel// 354