I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive...24/?
Excruciating pain. Unbearable pain. Ripping through my body, the agony made me double over as he kicked me in the ribs again.
Oh, of course it was a male.
Only a male would have the strength, the will, to inflict pain like that on a person in such a primitive way.
It wasn’t only physical wounds that I was suffering from.
The things he was saying...it was all I could do to block it out.
And because of what he said, I knew why I was being persecuted in such a manner.
My torso began to sting, feeling the tread of his shoe pierce the skin and my tee shirt stick to the raw flesh, grating horribly.
I doubt I would have fought back if I’d been able to.
I didn’t like the idea of violence.
If I’d fought back in the same manner as he did, he might be in my place, in as much pain as I was, and nobody deserved that.
It wasn’t as though I hadn’t tried; he was just stronger than me. A lot stronger.
Something gave then. Something had happened to my ribs, I could tell, as a burning pain seared through my right side, and I slumped down against the lockers as a scream wrenched out of my throat.
He struck me across the face then, and the blood rushed, stinging, to the area around my eye and across my cheekbone, flooding to the quickly bruising skin.
I looked up into the face of my attacker, and was terrified to see that he actually enjoyed what he was doing. The curve of his lips into a disdainful smirk and the coldness of his eyes could not disguise the enjoyment he got out of tormenting me. His other features were diminished by the hatred on his face as he looked down at me. And seeing all these things almost made me feel as though I deserved what I was getting.
“You know, it’s going to be even more fun beating up your faggot of a boyfriend.”
His voice made me shudder; all the cruelty, malice and contempt poured into that single sentence. That single sentence hurt me worse than anything else he’d done to me so far.
“He’s even more pathetic than you are,” he continued and I glared out of my good eye; my eyelid was swelling steadily and it was all I could do not to close the other. “Although, he won’t last as long. That’s a shame. At least I’ll be able to tell him what I did to you -”
“SHUT UP!” My voice grated, and I cringed, disoriented by the strength of my voice and the painful twinge of my ribcage. The dull burning ache pulsed in my torso and he hit my face again, kicking my abdomen for good measure.
If he kills me...I swear I’m going to frickin’ smite him from wherever I go after this life...
The blood was warm against my skin; unpleasantly warm though, and sticky, flowing heavily enough to prevent it from hardening. I tore clumsily at my shirt, hissing as the sodden material pulled away from the broken skin. I stared down at my front, dazedly watching the rise and fall of my chest. My head felt so light, even when a throbbing started to fill it and it felt both heavy and weightless at the same time.
The male straightened up suddenly, his head whipping to one side. For a moment he froze completely before he bolted. It took me a few seconds to register his absence, and then I slid further down the wall, my head feeling like it was filled with lead. The inside of my mouth tasted like iron, metallic and bloody.
I vaguely wondered when someone would find me; for all I knew, there was no one in the school, and here I was, stretched out feebly on the corridor floor, arms hanging limp at my sides.
Hmm...I may not even be found until tomorrow...interesting thought that...wait, do we have school tomorrow? What day is it? Oh well...
My body began to throb painfully as I heard voices, jumbled together, not making a lot of sense. They sounded as though they were coming from a great distance, and I whimpered, not wanting anyone to see the blood seeping from my skin.
“Ryan.”
What? Ryan?
“Here.”
I saw Ryan drop to his knees beside me, and felt instantly ashamed. I didn’t want for him to see me like this, but he tenderly lifted my shirt and looked at my torso. It reminded me horribly of the way I’d gazed at his body when he’d shown me what he’d inflicted upon himself.
I looked at him and smiled, trying to let him know that I was okay.
Obviously, if he had any brains at all, he’d know that I wasn’t, but it was good to try, and I was also so pleased to see him that I couldn’t help it.
I wanted to know if I’d ever be capable of smiling again.
I tried to sit up and groaned in pain, a stabbing pain in my ribs. His hand was instantly at my face and I dimly saw that his face was wet.
I wondered why, but then dismissed it as being unimportant.
All that mattered to me right then was that that guy hadn’t found Ryan before he had found me.
~Ryan~
As the doctor had said, Brendon was in hospital for several days.
It’s safe to say that I didn’t leave his side during the time I wasn’t at school.
In fact, I basically lived there. I could tell he was really over the whole stay-in-hospital thing by the second day.
Either his ribs weren’t too badly hurt, or Brendon was an extremely good actor.
The way he had been when I’d found him; I shuddered to think about it.
The doctor had shown me the x-rays and explained that the fracture was only a very small one, located in a middle rib, but Brendon still had to lounge about in chairs or in bed most of the time. Which he was not overly fond of.
“At least I don’t have to do schoolwork,” he told me gleefully, sipping on his small cup of juice, and looking at it in distaste, wrinkling his nose.
“I would kill for a red bull. Or four.”
“Yeah, and your heart rate would spike so much that the nurses would think you’d gone into cardiac arrest. Four.”
----
I was so relieved when Brendon was allowed home.
The blessed privacy of being able to do whatever we wanted.
Which was to talk.
We were sitting in Spencer’s room, and I tentatively wrapped my arms around Brendon, leaning back against the head of the bed. He sighed ever so slightly, leaning into my chest. I was still crap at hugging.
“So -” It wasn’t as though we hadn’t gone over this, but somehow, there seemed to be more to it than just the basics. “So you don’t know who it was?”
I toyed mindlessly with a lock of his hair, my fingers gently brushing against his cheek. He shivered, replying, “No.”
“But -” I stiffened, waiting for the end of the sentence. ‘Buts’ were never good.
“I think he must go to our school,” he said, his voice curiously emotional. “He - he mentioned you.”
My fingers froze in the motion of stroking his cheek. “What did he say?”
Do I want to know?
His breath hitched, and a whimper escaped from his throat.
“He - he said -” Water dripped onto my hand and I pulled him as close to me as I could without hurting him. His face was already streaked with tears.
“He said, ‘it’s going to be even more fun beating up your - faggot of a boyfriend,’” Brendon mumbled and my throat tightened. I didn’t give a shit what people said about me now, but to say it to Brendon?
Brendon slipped his hands around my ribs almost feebly, pushing his cheek against my chest. His fingers dragged desperately over my tee-shirt, clenching the thin cotton as though he were holding onto life itself, his breath stuttering as he pushed himself up on the bed.
“He - he told me - that he was gonna find you next...and that he’d do the same to you as he did to me, and that he’d tell you exactly what he’d done to me...”
My heart tightened painfully. “Oh, Brendon...”
Brendon was not the type of person who could cope with that sort of thing.
I wasn’t so ignorant that I could not tell; he had been cared for all his life, he didn’t know that kind of pain. It was painful for me even to imagine, despite my mental barriers that had shielded me from things like this.
“Ry, you have n-no idea how glad I am that he didn’t find you first,” whispered Brendon. “No idea.”
I stared down at him, urging the lump in my throat to go away. What could I say?
Yes, I’m glad he didn’t find me too?
“If h-he’d found you first - he would’ve told me what he’d d-done to y-you -”
“Look, Brendon...” I pressed my face into his hair, inhaling the sweet scent I had become so accustomed to. “You can’t worry about me. You should be worrying about yourself, I -” I cut my words off before I said anything about being worthless or all the usual crap that I believed in, and causing Brendon to rage at me as he had done before.
“But I want to.”
My eyes clouded with tears, I grasped at Brendon’s hand, my lower lip starting to jut out like it always did when I almost lost control. I leaned down and kissed him carefully, mumbling, “Thank you.”
Brendon bit down hard on his lip. “You’re welcome.”
Okaaaay, LAME. I'm sorry for the delay. Truly. School, you know, and MY BIRTHDAY. Feedback ladies and gents, you know I love you!
Oh, of course it was a male.
Only a male would have the strength, the will, to inflict pain like that on a person in such a primitive way.
It wasn’t only physical wounds that I was suffering from.
The things he was saying...it was all I could do to block it out.
And because of what he said, I knew why I was being persecuted in such a manner.
My torso began to sting, feeling the tread of his shoe pierce the skin and my tee shirt stick to the raw flesh, grating horribly.
I doubt I would have fought back if I’d been able to.
I didn’t like the idea of violence.
If I’d fought back in the same manner as he did, he might be in my place, in as much pain as I was, and nobody deserved that.
It wasn’t as though I hadn’t tried; he was just stronger than me. A lot stronger.
Something gave then. Something had happened to my ribs, I could tell, as a burning pain seared through my right side, and I slumped down against the lockers as a scream wrenched out of my throat.
He struck me across the face then, and the blood rushed, stinging, to the area around my eye and across my cheekbone, flooding to the quickly bruising skin.
I looked up into the face of my attacker, and was terrified to see that he actually enjoyed what he was doing. The curve of his lips into a disdainful smirk and the coldness of his eyes could not disguise the enjoyment he got out of tormenting me. His other features were diminished by the hatred on his face as he looked down at me. And seeing all these things almost made me feel as though I deserved what I was getting.
“You know, it’s going to be even more fun beating up your faggot of a boyfriend.”
His voice made me shudder; all the cruelty, malice and contempt poured into that single sentence. That single sentence hurt me worse than anything else he’d done to me so far.
“He’s even more pathetic than you are,” he continued and I glared out of my good eye; my eyelid was swelling steadily and it was all I could do not to close the other. “Although, he won’t last as long. That’s a shame. At least I’ll be able to tell him what I did to you -”
“SHUT UP!” My voice grated, and I cringed, disoriented by the strength of my voice and the painful twinge of my ribcage. The dull burning ache pulsed in my torso and he hit my face again, kicking my abdomen for good measure.
If he kills me...I swear I’m going to frickin’ smite him from wherever I go after this life...
The blood was warm against my skin; unpleasantly warm though, and sticky, flowing heavily enough to prevent it from hardening. I tore clumsily at my shirt, hissing as the sodden material pulled away from the broken skin. I stared down at my front, dazedly watching the rise and fall of my chest. My head felt so light, even when a throbbing started to fill it and it felt both heavy and weightless at the same time.
The male straightened up suddenly, his head whipping to one side. For a moment he froze completely before he bolted. It took me a few seconds to register his absence, and then I slid further down the wall, my head feeling like it was filled with lead. The inside of my mouth tasted like iron, metallic and bloody.
I vaguely wondered when someone would find me; for all I knew, there was no one in the school, and here I was, stretched out feebly on the corridor floor, arms hanging limp at my sides.
Hmm...I may not even be found until tomorrow...interesting thought that...wait, do we have school tomorrow? What day is it? Oh well...
My body began to throb painfully as I heard voices, jumbled together, not making a lot of sense. They sounded as though they were coming from a great distance, and I whimpered, not wanting anyone to see the blood seeping from my skin.
“Ryan.”
What? Ryan?
“Here.”
I saw Ryan drop to his knees beside me, and felt instantly ashamed. I didn’t want for him to see me like this, but he tenderly lifted my shirt and looked at my torso. It reminded me horribly of the way I’d gazed at his body when he’d shown me what he’d inflicted upon himself.
I looked at him and smiled, trying to let him know that I was okay.
Obviously, if he had any brains at all, he’d know that I wasn’t, but it was good to try, and I was also so pleased to see him that I couldn’t help it.
I wanted to know if I’d ever be capable of smiling again.
I tried to sit up and groaned in pain, a stabbing pain in my ribs. His hand was instantly at my face and I dimly saw that his face was wet.
I wondered why, but then dismissed it as being unimportant.
All that mattered to me right then was that that guy hadn’t found Ryan before he had found me.
~Ryan~
As the doctor had said, Brendon was in hospital for several days.
It’s safe to say that I didn’t leave his side during the time I wasn’t at school.
In fact, I basically lived there. I could tell he was really over the whole stay-in-hospital thing by the second day.
Either his ribs weren’t too badly hurt, or Brendon was an extremely good actor.
The way he had been when I’d found him; I shuddered to think about it.
The doctor had shown me the x-rays and explained that the fracture was only a very small one, located in a middle rib, but Brendon still had to lounge about in chairs or in bed most of the time. Which he was not overly fond of.
“At least I don’t have to do schoolwork,” he told me gleefully, sipping on his small cup of juice, and looking at it in distaste, wrinkling his nose.
“I would kill for a red bull. Or four.”
“Yeah, and your heart rate would spike so much that the nurses would think you’d gone into cardiac arrest. Four.”
----
I was so relieved when Brendon was allowed home.
The blessed privacy of being able to do whatever we wanted.
Which was to talk.
We were sitting in Spencer’s room, and I tentatively wrapped my arms around Brendon, leaning back against the head of the bed. He sighed ever so slightly, leaning into my chest. I was still crap at hugging.
“So -” It wasn’t as though we hadn’t gone over this, but somehow, there seemed to be more to it than just the basics. “So you don’t know who it was?”
I toyed mindlessly with a lock of his hair, my fingers gently brushing against his cheek. He shivered, replying, “No.”
“But -” I stiffened, waiting for the end of the sentence. ‘Buts’ were never good.
“I think he must go to our school,” he said, his voice curiously emotional. “He - he mentioned you.”
My fingers froze in the motion of stroking his cheek. “What did he say?”
Do I want to know?
His breath hitched, and a whimper escaped from his throat.
“He - he said -” Water dripped onto my hand and I pulled him as close to me as I could without hurting him. His face was already streaked with tears.
“He said, ‘it’s going to be even more fun beating up your - faggot of a boyfriend,’” Brendon mumbled and my throat tightened. I didn’t give a shit what people said about me now, but to say it to Brendon?
Brendon slipped his hands around my ribs almost feebly, pushing his cheek against my chest. His fingers dragged desperately over my tee-shirt, clenching the thin cotton as though he were holding onto life itself, his breath stuttering as he pushed himself up on the bed.
“He - he told me - that he was gonna find you next...and that he’d do the same to you as he did to me, and that he’d tell you exactly what he’d done to me...”
My heart tightened painfully. “Oh, Brendon...”
Brendon was not the type of person who could cope with that sort of thing.
I wasn’t so ignorant that I could not tell; he had been cared for all his life, he didn’t know that kind of pain. It was painful for me even to imagine, despite my mental barriers that had shielded me from things like this.
“Ry, you have n-no idea how glad I am that he didn’t find you first,” whispered Brendon. “No idea.”
I stared down at him, urging the lump in my throat to go away. What could I say?
Yes, I’m glad he didn’t find me too?
“If h-he’d found you first - he would’ve told me what he’d d-done to y-you -”
“Look, Brendon...” I pressed my face into his hair, inhaling the sweet scent I had become so accustomed to. “You can’t worry about me. You should be worrying about yourself, I -” I cut my words off before I said anything about being worthless or all the usual crap that I believed in, and causing Brendon to rage at me as he had done before.
“But I want to.”
My eyes clouded with tears, I grasped at Brendon’s hand, my lower lip starting to jut out like it always did when I almost lost control. I leaned down and kissed him carefully, mumbling, “Thank you.”
Brendon bit down hard on his lip. “You’re welcome.”
Okaaaay, LAME. I'm sorry for the delay. Truly. School, you know, and MY BIRTHDAY. Feedback ladies and gents, you know I love you!