As I said before: If you don’t want to read about horrible forms of child abuse, don’t read. This is not a story to get off on. This is serious. I’m not mocking abuse or making a joke out of it or turning it into some perverse fantasy. I’m just presenting a story, as unflattering as it is. Take it as it is and, like I said, if you don’t want to think about stuff like this featured, please don’t blame me- simply do not read. These kind of fictions aren't meant to celebrate or glorify abuse. They're serious issues, and personally if you want to get worked up about something get worked up about the people who actually commit these crimes; because the sad thing is things like this do happen. Rude and irrelevant comments will be deleted by Elsa Rose. I'm sure she created this to be a fun site, to make friends and enjoy stories and all of the negativity your rude comments bring are an insult to HER efforts and mine. Yes, my stories are negative but they are not real or directed to attack anyone personally but your comments ARE. Okay, you've been fully warned and FYI, out of all of my "abuse" related stories, I think this one takes the cake. From here on out, its happy times for me (meaning fluffy happy shiz). Remember, Justins POV, highschool age fic Are you SURE you want to read this? POSITIVE? Okay..... - - - - - - - - - - - - We were drunk off cola and rum when Brian first told me everything, laying out on the hood of his El Camino, passing a cigarette and the thermos back and forth between us. He’d sat up, his Vans against the front fender, head down and looking at the gravel. I’d sat up too, looking up into the night sky and the ominous silhouette of a couple high tension towers. We could see a few stars and the dusty rose hue of the city lights off in the far distance, towards the west. I could see his face pretty well, with the high beams on, creating an odd cone of light around us that shifted out across the cut rock and hit the high chain link fence about twenty yards off. The blackness was eminent on either side, something deep and all powerful, and the shadow of our legs was sprayed unevenly across the dust, puddles absorbing light in bright, silver pools. I cocked my head, looking out above Brian’s brown hair to the tops of the pine trees to the left and beyond them, sky that stretched off in a rolling navy blanket, alive like it could breathe with the stars as its eyes. Our own breath tumbled over our chapped lips as we breathed the cold night air, icy clouds of oxygen that lingered in front of our pale faces before dissipating into clean nothing ness. Brian was hunched forward, taking a drag from the cigarette in his clumsy, shaky fingers. The ember burned impossibly bright orange before it toned down to a softer smolder and he looked at me as if for the first time ever. His face was dark and shadowed, eyes glittering with a malice that did not belong to his placid character. “I hate her.” He said and he choked, quickly blinking and looking away, chin tilted, to the electric towers. He stared intently, as if he hoped to see the answer to life above the steel skeletons. I busied myself by tugging lightly on the black jelly-bracelets on my thin wrists, pressing my knees tighter around the thermos of alcohol between my legs. “I hate her. I’m sick of trying to… waiting for everything to be okay. I’m sick. Well, she’s sick and she’s making me sick.” I pulled harder at the bracelets, pushing them up towards the bottom of my palm. My eyes jerked along the horizontal slashes dug into my wrist in fast succession, one, two, three, four, five. I tugged them back down, up my forearm a little and counted again from the bottom up. One, two, three, four, five. “She… do you know? Do you know what she does to me?” He looked at me, the bags under his eyes and cheek bones gaunt in his pale face. He chewed on his lower lip, his elbow on his bony knee, the blazing cigarette between his fingers. I shook my head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. “She does… bad stuff. I mean. She makes me do bad stuff to her sometimes.” Brian squirmed around in discomfort, making the car creak on its axels. He hugged himself and closed his eyes, looking about four instead of sixteen. I leaned forward and took the cigarette from him so he wouldn’t burn himself, taking a fast drag before throwing it down in the gravel. Both of us watched the cigarette die slowly, until the heated orange had become just as dusty as the rocks around it. We were silent for a long time, straining our ears to here the low hum of cars flashing by on the interstate about a mile or so back. We could hear a wild dog baying from some where deep in the woods. “Brian… what kind of. Bad. Things?” I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know but I asked anyway, tugging hard on the bracelets again. He didn’t answer for a long time and when I did look at him, his eyes were following the black trails of steel on the high tension towers. Silver air billowed from his nose and I studied his angled profile critically, my fingers tracing the slashes on the under side of my wrist. “She doesn’t … you know, she doesn’t always do it. Sometimes, she just hits me. You knew that.” He eyed me with such a hungry since of desperation that I nodded severely for his sake. “And then, she doesn’t remember. She says she’d never hit me. She says I’m crazy. She says I make up all these horrible things about her but I swear- I wouldn’t ever… I swear, you gotta believe me. I would never make this UP. She does stuff to me all the time and I don’t. I can’t. Do you believe me? Please? Right?” “I believe you. Just tell me what she does?” “Do you remember, a couple months ago when I got really sick?” I nodded and Brian’s broad shoulders were jerking, as if he was having trouble breathing. “She made me sick.” I wanted to ask why, but he didn’t give me the chance. He kept on, taking his pack of Camels from his jacket pocket and a book of matches. “She- I don’t know gave me something and the food tasted funny and I didn’t wanna eat it but she said I was being stupid so I- that I was making stuff up again, but it made me sick after word and she said God was punishing me- it’s always God’s fault, every time she does something she says God’s telling her to do it and I- like, I got sick ‘cos I went and talked to the counselor at school, you know? I told you.” I nodded again. I was staring right at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were focused on some invisible point before him as he took hurried drags between pants and cut words. “They came and Mom was so normal and she said I made stuff up all the time, ever since Dad left, I lie and I cheat and steal and get drunk,” he paused to laugh here, a ruthless and dangerous laugh, “and she told them about my record with the cops and, it’s all true, you know? She’s got all that proof, I’m a fucking rotten kid and she can prove it so they believed her. And then, God made me sick for lying about her.” “You know that’s not true.” I said, because even though Brian got into a lot of trouble, he was still a great person. He’d do anything for one of his friends. He was loyal and patient. You had to love him. “But I can’t prove it. My grades are shit, I’ve been brought home from the cops, I got in trouble for pushing, I get into fights. I can’t prove anything. And Mom, she broke my ribs with a broom handle and she told the hospital people that I was drunk and got into a fight with her and tripped down the back steps. She even- She had the broom and she kept threatening to hit me, she said I was- it was my fault Dad left and she said I hate her so she might as well kill herself and she was hitting herself with the broom, hard in the face, and she grabbed a knife too, and I had to get it from her, and that’s when she hit me with the broom and she wouldn’t stop, and I passed out. This was last month. You remember.” I did remember, and everyone said Brian got into a drunken fight with his mother. Even he said he did. He’d agreed with the falling down the steps story with a saucy, rebellious teen cockiness and he’d seemed proud enough. “I wasn’t drunk. I lied about it because Mom said if anyone knew the truth, they’d take me away. She said I probably wanted that, to get away from her, because I’m just like Dad and I don’t love her. She says that as soon as I leave, she’s going to kill herself and it’ll be my fault ‘cos I’m supposed to be her son and love her but I don’t. I’m a bad person, she says, ‘cos I hate her and want her to kill herself. And, I do sometimes. I really do.” “I could deal with her hitting me though. I could deal with that, but then she looks at me and she says ‘what happened to your face? Did you get into another fight?’ and I get scared, ‘cos it was HER. She hits me and doesn’t remember. Sometimes, she locks herself in her room for weeks and doesn’t come out. I guess she’s doing drugs, heroin I think, but I don’t know and at least she leaves me alone. It’s worse when she drinks ‘cos then she really busts me up, she broke my nose last summer, sprayed blood all over the hall way wall and she leaves it up as a reminder to how bad I am, ‘cos she says I hit her and she had to defend her self, she says I’m the one that starts it, and other times she’ll say that’s not blood on the wall, it’s chocolate syrup, and she’s so convincing that I think I’m crazy.” “But it’s worse now. It’s so much fucking worse. I can’t- I don’t. All she does is drink. She drinks and then when I go home, she doesn’t usually hit me anymore she, well she does sometimes, but it’s different now she… Oh God, please.” He squeezed his eyes shut and the cigarette had burned down in his hands, the ash long. “Please don’t get freaked out or call me sick or not believe me. You have to. You got to believe me ‘cos if you don’t it’s all fucking over. I can’t take this alone.” I almost wanted to hug him, but I didn’t. I hated to be touched and lately Brian had been the same way. Before, Brian was always jumping on me from behind, catching me in bear hugs. He didn’t anymore. He recoiled from me just as much as I from him. I was back to tugging on my bracelets again, counting the deep cuts. “She hits me and calls me by my dad’s name. She grabs me by the hair and slings me around, and I can’t do anything back ‘cos she’s my mom, right?” He looked at me finally with the same sick, sad desperation. I nodded. I wasn’t sure why I was nodding this time, as he threw the remainder of the cigarette into the gravel, next to the last one. Again, we watched it burn out in silence before he continued. “And then she’ll kiss me.” The statement hung in the cold air and neither one of us were breathing for almost a full minute. We were frozen, my index finger curled beneath the rings of bracelets around my cut wrist, while Brian hugged himself in such a tight embrace I wondered if his lack of inhalation was due to the pressure he put on his own ribs. We both sucked air in at the same time, eyes raising to meet one another’s, and there was something so dead and dark and young in his expression that my blood turned into the same crushed gravel as the ground around us. “Not a normal son and mother kiss either. She kisses me. She kisses me and calls me by my dad’s name and she makes me do stuff to her and she does stuff to me and if I don’t do it then she hits me or she’ll get a knife and threaten to kill herself and me sometimes too.” “Brian,” I breathed out, pulling hard on my bracelets and he looks away, out across the grass beyond the chain link fence. “You don’t believe me, do you?” he laughed coldly, something that was more of a maniacal stagger of icy air. “Two nights ago she- look.” He hopped off the hood of the car, the hood bouncing beneath me. The gravel crunched beneath his Vans as he moved to stand in front of me, unzipping his jacket and throwing it on the hood next to me. He pushed his shirt up his slightly defined chest and undid his pants, opening them up. I was confused, trying to look him in the eyes but he refused the contact. He pushed his pants down and pulled his boxers down his hips a little, enough to show a thin line of dark pubic hair. I narrowed my eyes and he stepped back, letting the head-lights wash over him in an empowering light, his shadow stretched out and looming behind him. There were two purple hickies just below his pelvic bone and I swallowed heavily, feeling a knot form in my throat. They were fresh and I’d been around Brian every day for the past couple of weeks. He’d gotten moody and with drawn, and I was one of the few people he was willing to talk to. He didn’t have a boyfriend and I knew he hadn’t been involved in any one night stands. “She did that?” I asked, trying to cover up the sick disgust. Brian was staring at the marks in his skin, and he nodded his head in a sad, dejected way. “I didn’t know what to do so I just sat there and let her do it.” “She sucked you off?” Brian looked up fast and his eyes smoldered in his sockets even brighter then the cigarette embers. “No,” he growled and he bared his slightly crooked teeth. “I didn’t get off. I wasn’t even hard. What the fuck kind of psycho would get off on his mom…“ he cut himself of and his lower lip trembled. “Last night.” He said the two words and his eyes flickered and knees buckled as if the two words said such multitudes he could barely take it. He held his hand out and I handed him the thermos, watching as he unscrewed the top and chugged some back. “Last night she hand cuffed me to the bed.” His speech was choppy, tripping over his own words as he pulled his pants back on, shakily buttoning them. “And she was straddling my chest. She was. Touching herself. On me. And she made me. You know. Lick her. There.” I took the thermos back from him, holding his jacket out to him. “And then. She just. Well I was. I don’t know how. That time. I had an. I was. You know. Hard.” The word twisted from his lips with difficulty, as if he was trying to cough up broken shards of glass. “And she rode me. And she called me by Dad’s name. And she came. And I came. And I was in her. And if she gets pregnant. That would mean. Oh God.” Brian simply collapsed, falling down in the gravel in a broken heap. I was off the car in an instant, sitting down next to him so quickly it hurt my ass. I was hugging him, surprised that he wasn’t crying but even more surprised that he wasn’t pushing me away. He was trembling, curled up with his head against my chest, his lips blue and his eyes opened wide, as if he had gone into shock. He felt around blindly until his shaking fingers closed around my cut wrist so tightly it hurt but I didn’t stop him and his other hand dug into my side, gripping for leverage. He shook and I wrapped my arms around him, bracing my chucks into the dirt and rocking him while he panted like he’d just run from the cops. Above us, the rose hue in the sky was stretching, eating the navy blue with pinks and golds and the electric towers framed with all that color behind it was becoming more defined, the steel starting to make form from the black silhouette. The head lights behind our us blasted our shadows in an un-proportional way across the dusty crushed rock and even further beyond the chain link fence into the grassy valley that the electric towers stood in. “I don’t wanna go home tonight.” Brian whispered calmly, his legs drawn up and his weight rested against mine. “You don’t have to. Come home with me.” “Okay.” It was simple and easy, although both of us sat idly in the dirt until our legs were asleep and backs cramped from our positioning. Eventually we stood and I retrieved Brian’s keys from his jacket pocket, ordering him into the passenger side as I got behind the wheel of his car. “Do you believe me?” he asked timidly as we started driving back down the old gravel path towards the interstate, the electric towers looming in the rear view mirror. They were shrinking slowly, losing their stature to the distance we put between us and them. “Yeah.” Brian was quiet for a moment, looking tired, resting his forehead to the window as it fogged slightly with the heat turned up in the car. My fingers were numb on the steering wheel, the cuts in my wrist stinging at the sudden dramatic temperature change. “What are you going to do?” He twisted his head, still resting his cheek to the glass but enough to look at me in the darkness of the car, woods pressing in on either side and the high beams lighting up only so far in front of us. “I’m gonna take you to my house.” “Alright.” Brian yawned and rolled his head to the seat’s back, closing his eyes. “I’m gonna take a nap.” He passed out and I leaned forward, switching the radio on. Donnie Darko’s version of “Mad World” filled the car as we drove down the interstate towards my house. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I told you it was pretty bad. There will be a sequel. Alright, on with happier fics now....