Fractured Minds
by Ashton

Part One:

Each night, when he curled up in the sanctuary of his own bed and gave into sleep, the dream was the same. He was young again. A small child of only ten or eleven. Naked. Enclosed in complete darkness. All around him, earthen walls pressed close. He could feel them against his small shoulders. Could smell dampness clinging to the heavy air. Trapped. He was trapped.... The finality of this thought made his pulse rate quicken. He could almost hear the blood rushing through his veins, as sludgy water began to seep in over his bare feet. Stricken by raw terror, he began to claw at the wet soil that enclosed him, finding immediately that it was too marshy. Like mud between his fingers, but for an occasional twisted root. Worms squirmed out over his knuckles as he attempted to dig. They crept up over his bony little arms, tickling his skin. The more frantic his shoveling became, the faster the walls caved in around him.

The rancid water began gushing in, rising swiftly as it filled the oppressive air with a stench so foul, it burnt his nostrils. Its rotten flavor coated his lips and tongue as he drew in desperate gasps. Knowing well that he was wasting the scarce supply of oxygen in his wet tomb, he attempted to steady his labored breathing, as the muddy chasm continued to compress around his tiny frame.. His mind screeched, "No, not like this... I can't die in this place...no, no, no!" He wasn't sure who the silent prayer was for. Certainly, no God would heed his frantic pleas. He never had before. Not even when, as a young boy, he'd been locked in the confined space of a closet for days on end, at the cruel hands of his mother. If there was such a thing as God, he thought to himself, He would surely be more inclined to ignore his prayers now.

When the water reached waist level, with it came the cool whisper of scaly skin, brushing against his abdomen. Petrified, he froze. Too frightened to twitch a muscle, as the long pliant body curled around him, crushing his torso as it wound its way upward...hissing. He opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late. His lungs were unable to expand in the constricting embrace. The serpent coiled around his neck, its forked tongue caressing the unblemished smoothness of his boyish cheek...as it squeezed tighter still...

David woke, clutching his throat and gulping for air. His slender limbs tangled in bed covers, the jumble of linens rank with his profuse sweating. He glanced around the room, eyes diving into the dusky corners. Ears peeled for the sound of... What? Hissing? The slithering of a snake through his soiled sheets? He scolded himself for being such a coward. But several minutes passed, before he was finally able to slow the drumming of his heart. Just a dream, he told himself. It's just a dream.....

Still badly shaken, David unraveled himself from the sheets that bound him, and reached for the clothes he'd discarded the evening before. He cursed beneath his breath, disgusted by the tremor in his hands as he fastened his loose fitting jeans. Through the slanting blinds in his bedroom window stole rays of warm orangish light. The sun had risen and painted itself in fine golden slits across his hardwood floor. Fresh air. He needed to get outside. Needed to inhale the crisp autumn air into his lungs. Yes. A walk through the park would do him a world of good. Perhaps there, he'd find something to take his mind off these troubling dreams.

The early morning breeze restored a hint of color to David's pallid skin, as he trudged down the weathered cement sidewalk. Feeling better already, he hastened his step, putting distance between himself and the decaying apartment building where he resided. He was the only tenant in the apartment building now, and had been for the last four months. He'd rented out the flat above him for the purpose of...storage. The landlord hadn't asked questions. In fact, he'd seemed rather pleased just to have the second story rented, and by such an ideal tenant too. David never failed to pay his rent on time. Never caused a ruckus. Yes. He was indeed ideal...

David glanced around as he passed through the wrought iron gates at the park's entrance, wondering vaguely why the barricade was even there. It wasn't as if any attempt was made to close the park in the evening. He knew this for fact, since he frequented the park regularly at random hours of night. And once he passed through the gate, he always headed in the same direction. The shingled brown roof of the public rest rooms came into view, as David walked up the steep grassy incline, huffing ever so slightly. A few paces before this brick building was the bench. His bench. An old rickety thing, painted the gaudiest shade of lime green he'd ever beheld. The carved initials and graffiti were improvements to the terrible eyesore. Often, David would entertain himself by reading the dirty limericks and professions of great love, as he sat there. Thinking. Waiting.

Sighing contentedly, David sank down onto the hard wooden bench, and stretched his legs out before him. The trees in the park were already turning vibrant hues of orange, gold, and red. He smiled to himself as he absorbed the surrounding landscape. It was peaceful here in the early morning. Quiet. David could hear the faint rustling of dry leaves, as the wind whistled through the tree branches.

In this relaxed state, David allowed his troubled mind to drift, until once again, it finally strayed back to the dream that plagued him. He didn't understand. Was it guilt, perhaps? A delayed side effect of the abuse his mother had inflicted, all those years ago? Another symptom of his severe claustrophobia? Yes. It must be all his mother's fault. Just like the...other malady of his. His only solace in all this, was knowing that she was dead. Though he did find it rather unfortunate, that a person could only die once. He'd have loved it, if only he had another opportunity to murder her. Yes, she was definitely someone he would take twisted glee in killing, time and time again, making certain each death was worse, more painful, than the last.

He could still remember, quite clearly, the day he'd strangled his mother. It'd been shortly after his sixteenth birthday, that he'd wandered in on her and that despicable man. Her boss from down at the diner, no less. An overweight, balding pig with a penchant for wildly patterned polyester and stinky cigars. David had known his mother, then forty, was seeing this man. However, catching them together, rutting on the mildew-infested couch like a couple of swine, was another matter all together. His stomach twisting into a sick knot, David had tried to back out through the apartment door. But by the time he'd recovered from the initial shock and made his attempt, The Pig Man was on him.

David had been hauled to the couch easily. His weight and size, even at sixteen, had been no match for his mother's lover. And as he recalled, his mother had been laughing heartily. No. Maniacally. Like the lunatic she was. Even when David had been pinned, face down on the grimy couch, The Pig Man's one hand ripping at his hair, while the other yanked his tattered jeans down around his ankles - his mother had just stood there watching. Giggling. While the hog climbed on top of him, perspiring and grunting, as he shoved his fat prick up David's virgin ass. It was the first time he'd been taken. And he swore it'd be the last.

Later, long after The Pig Man had left for the night, David had crept into his mother's bedroom. Years of rage and frustration finally boiling to the surface, as he tiptoed though the darkened room toward the bed in which she laid, snoring softly in her sleep. There wasn't a time that David could remember when he hadn't been abused, in one form or another, by this woman. Some of his earliest childhood memories were of being battered with wooden spoons, locked in cram-packed closets, and burnt with the long Virginia Slims cigarettes that seemed a constant fixture in her mouth. And until now, he'd held his anger inside, with the exception of the few times he'd taken his wrath out on a rodent, or stray cat.

David hadn't been nervous as he crawled across the creaky old mattress, didn't even flinch when the broken springs jabbed into his knobby knees. The only thing he felt was pure hatred, a blinding fury. His mother shifted and moaned in her slumber. David had been momentarily caught off guard, by how sweet she looked laying there, her chestnut hair fanning out over her pillows. Her skin an untainted snowy white, in severe contrast to her faux silk maroon nightgown. One would never guess how ugly she could be in her waking hours. Or that such a petite woman could inflict such damage.

In one fluid motion, David grabbed for her slender throat and straddled her hips. Beneath him, her dark brown eyes flew open wide, and her dainty hands reached for his wrists. In response, he tightened his fingers around her neck, harder and harder still. Undaunted, as she began flailing her arms wildly, punching and slapping at his chest above her, in her pointless struggle to live. And it had felt good. So good. The gurgling, hacking noises she croaked out were like music to his ears.

Finally, her body convulsed between his thighs, her face blue, as she went completely still. It was over. She was gone, and he felt no remorse. Instead, David found himself sitting on top of her, with the fiercest hardon of his young life. It had given him such a rush. The awesome power he'd wielded over his mother in those final seconds had aroused him. If he'd been into women at all, he imagined that he'd have fucked her still-warm corpse. But, as he hadn't any desire for pussy, living or dead, he retreated into the bathroom to jerk off, imagining it was some pretty young boy he'd just strangled, and not his sick mother. When he was done, David went back to his mother's room and lugged her body down the short hallway, into the dingy bathroom. There, he'd strung her up from the old curtain rod in the shower. Afterward, he'd wandered out to the kitchen to prepare himself a sandwich before bed.

In the morning, David called the police himself. Managing to pinch out a few well timed, perfectly orchestrated tears, at finding his dead mother. It never occurred to a soul that her death had been anything more than a suicide. She had been crazy, after all.

While David was lost in these thoughts, the crunching of brittle leaves caught his attention. Someone was approaching. A thousand butterflies swarmed in David's stomach as a lanky figure came into sight. Yet he remained outwardly calm. In recent years, he'd become quite skilled at hiding his excitement, or any other emotion that threatened to overcome him, from others. Until it was far too late for them to do a thing about it.

As the boy advanced, David found him both young and sweet; with cropped reddish-brown hair and wide blue eyes. Eyes that cried of innocence. David estimated that he could be no more than nineteen, twenty at most. Drawing nearer, the youth stared down at the ground and clasped his unbuttoned flannel jacket tighter, concealing what appeared to be a University sweatshirt beneath. The boy slowed his gait and peered up at David nervously, as he passed by. Offering David one of the most bashful smiles he'd ever seen, before proceeding directly to the men's lavatory.

Patiently, David waited. His enthusiasm mounting, as he allowed the boy time to enter the rest room. Once the younger man ducked inside, David pursued. As he passed though the entrance, he pushed his long blond hair back off his face, humming merrily to himself, as he glanced around the filthy gray room, his dark eyes seeking out the youth. This was just what he needed. A quickie. Something to tide him over until he could hit the club scene again.

He couldn't help but think it was a shame though, that he had encountered the boy here. He'd have preferred to take this one home with him. The younger man seemed quite robust. It was likely that someone of his caliber would endure for many hours under his...charge. At least longer than the usual dregs he encountered at bars and nightclubs.

"Knock, knock...." David whispered, his deep voice raspy as he tapped his knuckles against the closed stall door.

The latch clicked, resounding off the tiles and concrete in the cold, hollow room. The metal door opened just a crack. "Hey."

Up close the boy was even sweeter than David had first noticed. Grinning warmly, he pressed his palm against the stall door and pushed it open. He stepped inside and locked the door hastily, turning back to face the younger man. "What should I call you?" David teased, clutching the front of the youth's jacket and pushing it open, "it doesn't have to be your real name. Give me any name you want."

"Jason," the younger man replied, gnawing at his lower lip. He shifted anxiously, "w-what can I do for you?"

"Hi...Jason, my name's David," he slid his cold hands up the front of the boy's sweatshirt, and rubbed them over the smoothness of the younger man's chest. His fingertips tracing Jason's small, erect nipples in lazy circles, "you wanna suck me off?"

Without waiting for a response, David leaned in close and trailed his tongue over Jason's bottom lip, sliding his hands lower, caressing the bare skin along his sides, until both rested on the boy's hips. A small noise escaped from somewhere deep inside Jason's throat and he gave a weak nod of assent, his legs wobbling like jello, beneath the wet stroking of the other's tongue. Encouraged, David covered Jason's mouth with his own and thrust with demand into the slippery warmth, his cock stiffening as he kneaded the younger man's ass. David could feel Jason's fingers gripping hard at his shoulders through the bulk of his suede jacket. Could feel them reaching upward to twine in his shaggy blond hair, as he plundered the boy's silken mouth and pressed closer. Grinding his hard dick against Jason's, until the boy drew back and licked at his bruised lip, chest heaving, "umm....I've...only done this a few times."

David forced another smile, hoping the boy would find it soothing, "shhh. It's okay. You're gonna be so good. I can tell. Just thinking about your pretty little face moving up and down on my cock, is making me ache." As a sign of good faith, David tugged at his own fly, reaching for Jason's hand at the same time, guiding it to the hardon bulging from his white briefs. The boy's lips parted, and he glanced down at his hand, rubbing against David's cock on it's own accord now.

"That's it. Yeah...just like that. You want it....and you can have it, baby," he coaxed, brushing his mouth over Jason's again, teasing his lips apart with the tip of his tongue. Panting, Jason pushed David's briefs down around his thighs with trembling hands, and grasped the man's cock. His fingers working steadily, up and down over David's thick shaft, as they kissed. Violently this time. Sucking and nipping. Their moist, warm tongues lashing together.

His breath coming in sharp rasps, Jason broke away from David's mouth, and dropped to his knees on the scummy concrete floor. Hesitating for the briefest moment, before darting his tongue out over the tip of David's dick, tasting the hot, stringy cum just beginning to drip from the swollen head. Slowly, and with great care, Jason sucked the very head of David's cock between his lips, then dragged them down over the other's length. His tongue twirling around the sensitive underside of David's shaft.

Completely encased in the hot wetness of Jason's mouth, David groaned and clasped hold of the boy's short auburn hair, pushing his head down as far as it would go on his cock. He could feel Jason gag, his throat muscles making a vain attempt to reject the organ, as it slammed against the younger man's tonsils. Unmoved, David drew out, and lunged back in again, harder this time, deeper. Raping Jason's mouth and throat without pity, until he could hear the boy whimpering. Could feel Jason's fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. The boy's fear, his helplessness, set David off. It felt so good, ramming into the younger man's tight, saliva-slick throat. Exciting to take Jason as he deemed fit, without compassion or worry. David fought to stifle a groan, his cock pulsing spastically in the confines of Jason's hot throat muscles, as he pumped bitter, salty cum deep inside.

When David finally withdrew, his semi-erect cock red and glistening, Jason fell back on his haunches, coughing. He peered up at David, his face a mask of bewilderment, his eyes tearing and bulging from asphyxiation. Smiling affectionately, and what he hoped was reassuringly, David stared down at Jason and cupped the boy's head between his hands. Such a baby-faced young thing. Such a shame. A waste. It was too bad, really. Too bad Jason had the misfortune of meeting up with David, this early Fall morning. In one swift, wrenching gesture, David twisted Jason's head to the side. Severing it from its delicate stem. The loud, grotesque snap echoing through the filthy lavatory....

***************************

SIX MONTHS LATER:

Concealed by dense shadows in a remote corner of the room, David lounged back against his scuffed wooden chair, stiff drink in hand. All around him came the familiar bedlam of the club. Familiar, not because he'd been here before. He had not. It wasn't necessary. One seedy fetish club was much like the next, and as of late, he'd frequented many. Over the last six months, David had become quite accustomed to the colorful pandemonium; the extraordinary fetish wear; the tangible sound of leather slapping against exposed flesh, grunts of pain and cries of pleasure mingling into one... The crowded rooms heady with the scent of sweat, laced with endorphins and stale liquor. Not only was he familiar with all these aspects, he thrived on the ambiance. For him, the sensory overload was an exquisite form of foreplay.

Lifting the cool glass to his lips, David scoured the crowd with dull eyes, eyes that seemed almost black against his ashen skin, hoping that amongst the barrage of painted faces and leather wrapped bodies, he'd find someone to his liking. Someone extraordinary. No common young man would do. Not tonight. Tonight, he'd decided to up the ante.

Since his interlude months ago at the park, David had found himself in unfamiliar waters. It was a definite turning point. He'd been reckless, murdering the young boy at the park, in daylight, with no means to dispose of the corpse. Now, there was no way he could return. He'd heard a saying once, "never shit where you eat." And he supposed this term applied under his circumstances. He'd taken a big messy dump, at the table in one of his favorite restaurants. Knowing this, David began to seek out new haunts. Nightclubs had always been a given, he'd picked up young men in such places many times before. Unfortunately, he found these clubs rather bothersome, with their crude music and flashing lights. In his quest for something a bit more to his liking, a bit more edgy, David had decided to try the fetish scene. He'd taken to it almost immediately. Knew that he would be able to operate comfortably in this underground world, where everything was already a dirty little secret, where club goers hid behind false identities, and cowered from the scrutiny of the public eye, in fear of losing their jobs, their families.

Unfortunately, the boys he came upon in these sleazy, roach infested basement fetish clubs bored him. He discovered quickly that most were already strung out or too life-weary to put up much of a fight, once he'd lured them back to his apartment. They offered him no challenge. Physically or mentally. What satisfaction could be gained from trying to break one who already found life distasteful? One whose body was already drug-ridden and decrepit? They died easily...just as all the little nightclubbing boys had. Before he'd even been able to wreak the full benefits their young bodies had to offer. They were all frail. Such a disappointment. David imagined it was the price he had to pay, for visiting the most disdainful of such underground establishments. Stock would be better at the private clubs, cleaner and more vital. However, such clubs were attended by regular clientele, often prominent members of society. They lacked the anonymity he required.

As he was contemplating this dilemma, David noticed a sizable crowd gathering on the other side of the dim room, where a scene was being played out. His curiosity piqued, David stood and began to make his way over to the spectacle, still sipping the liquor from his glass. When he approached, the swarm of bodies was thick, so condensed that he had to shoulder his way through the hoard. This did not present a problem. His appearance and demeanor often allowed him to go unnoticed. He was attractive, but unspectacular. And he knew well how to blend with his surroundings, whatever they might be.

The scene that had generated such interest had been a caning. But by the time David had made his way to the front of the group, it appeared he'd missed the festivities. The sub in question was already locked in the reassuring fold of the bulkier man's arms. From the murmurs that arose from the admiring crowd, it seemed the young man had just taken quite a beating. One glance at the blotches, already adorning the boy's skin, gave testimony to this truth.

"Now, that was remarkable. I admire his stamina." The comment came from a young man, standing just before David.

"Hmm. Too bad I missed it," he muttered in reply, swiveling his head in the direction of the man who'd just spoken and caught his attention. David felt his heart still. The young man was by far the most stunning of all those gathered in the room. More beautiful than any of the waifs he had previously taken home for his amusement. He was short, probably a good six inches shorter than David, who stood a solid six feet tall. His hair had been bound tightly at the nape of his pale neck, where his black locks had been gathered into a ponytail that cascaded down between his shoulder blades.

But it was when David saw the younger man's face that he knew for certain. He knew he'd just laid eyes on the one he wanted. This boy was different. Special. Every feature on his face was vibrant, almost over emphasized. The cheekbones too high, lips too full. His large eyes were the brightest shade of emerald green David had ever seen.

"Yeah, that is too bad. But who knows? Maybe you'll catch him next time, he comes here often." The young man shrugged and turned to leave, his shoulder brushing David's. Out from beneath the longest, darkest lashes David had ever seen, the boy cast him a sideways glance, then swaggered away through the lingering group of onlookers. He reminded David of a feline. An alley cat, perhaps, but a sleek and graceful one.

As if hypnotized, David followed the younger man. There seemed no other choice in the matter. His mind reeled as he kept several steps behind, searching the recesses of his malignant brain for the perfect approach. All the while, distracted by the sway of the younger man's leather clad ass. David had to get a grip. Concentrate. If he failed to choose the right tactic, this boy was bound to see right through him. But god, how this guy's hair shimmered, how fluid his movements were, beneath the black satin blouse, beneath those snug black pants he'd poured himself into... He was still lost in thought, only a few paces behind the younger man, when the other turned on his heel abruptly, and folded his arms over his chest.

"Is there something I can help you with?" He struck a brooding pose for David, one hip jutting out, his lips forming a prominent pout, green eyes narrowing, "you're following me, aren't you?"

"Well...yes. You were standing next to me, just a second ago. Over at the caning? I was actually going to offer you a drink." A lopsided grin tugged at the corners of David's mouth, as he extended his hand, "my name's David. What's yours?"

The boy's eyes trailed up and down over David, sizing him up, "Adam. My name's Adam... And yes. You can buy me that drink. Although, that's not very original of you." Adam grasped his hand firmly, and held David's gaze, even as he dared to run a light finger suggestively over the palm of the boy's hand.

"You caught me off guard, I was just trying to come up with something more clever," he shrugged, "what will you be having, then? To drink...I mean?"

"And here I thought being clever was one of those little things that was supposed to come naturally. Or not." He paused for a moment, then added, "a rum and coke would be good. Want me to grab us a table?"

"Yeah...yeah...I guess so," David wasn't certain why, but the prospect of letting Adam out of his sight, even for a moment, made him uneasy.

"You afraid I'm gonna wander off?" the boy seemed amused at this thought. He cocked an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna run away from you."

True to his word, while David had been at the bar ordering them drinks, Adam secured them a remote table. This did not go unnoticed by David, but gave him an immediate thrill. He hoped it meant what he assumed; that Adam was interested. That the younger man wanted to be alone with him, maybe even enough to accompany him home. Perhaps he wouldn't be as sly as he first appeared? While David longed for a challenge, someone with spirit, he didn't want Adam to be altogether unmanageable. There was a fine line between the two, he just couldn't tell which side Adam fell on yet.

His eyes remained fixed on Adam as he approached the table. He sat hunched slightly forward over the veneered table top, dipping his fingers one at a time into the liquefied wax pooling in the votive before him. His face a mask of concentration. Interesting. David found himself wondering what Adam must be thinking, if anything at all. It was possible that he was just as vacant-headed as the others, but somehow David doubted it.

"Here you go. A rum and coke." He set the drink in front of Adam, then dropped down into the chair directly across from him. Sipping his drink slowly. Studying his new friend. The yellow-gold gleam of the candle cast dark shadows over Adam's angular face, making it seem almost eerie. Hollow. But his green eyes still glittered like no other. Even in the dusky light. The boy offered David a beguiling smile, "thanks...for the drink."

"You're welcome, but it's my pleasure." A glimmer of candlelight reflected off the silver charm dangling from the chain around Adam's delicate neck, "may I?" David gestured toward the tiny ornament, and leaned in closer over the table top.

"Of course, be my guest." The younger man inclined toward David, arching his head back slightly to allow the other a better look at the inverted silver cross laying against his pale chest.

"What are you? Some kind of Satanist?"

"Actually, no. I'm not. Contrary to popular belief, Satanists don't worship the Devil. In fact, they don't even believe in Him, or in God. I...on the other hand...do." Adam relaxed back against his chair and gulped from his glass, his eyes holding David's as he drank.

"No offense, but don't you think that's a bit juvenile? Disillusioned? I mean, putting faith in entities? I've never been one to believe in all that mumbo jumbo, myself. Seems like nonsense," he snickered and shook his head with mild amusement, pondering whether or not the boy might have a screw of his own loose.

"No. I don't think I'm at all disillusioned. Maybe you are? Do you really believe you've made it to where you are today, without the assistance of someone...or something? Could you possibly be that vain?" The younger man raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Hmm. Well, yes. I could be," His patience wearing thin, David snorted. The conversation at hand was making him apprehensive, it suddenly felt more as if they were engaged in a debate, rather than a discussion.

"Perhaps we should change the course of our...chat. I fear I've touched on a sensitive topic."

"You haven't, but we can change the subject, if it'd make you feel better," David watched as the younger man's generous lips twisted, their appearance somewhere between a grin and a sneer. There was an infinitely cruel aspect to Adam's smile that chilled him to the bone.

David cleared his throat, "anything?"

"Anything. Go right ahead."

"Tell me then, why are you here? In a club like this? To watch? To play?" Pushing his mussed flaxen hair away from his face, David reclined once again in his chair. Forcing himself to strike a more relaxed pose as he waited for Adam's reply, though he seemed unable to prevent his spidery fingers from drumming restlessly on the table top.

"Hmm. Mind if I smoke?" Reaching into the silken pocket of his blouse, Adam pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and proceeded to press one between his curvy lips. He lit it casually, then exhaled a puff of smoke, blowing it playfully into David's face, "I suppose I'm here for the very same reason you are, David."

"Oh really? Do you think so?"

"You came here tonight looking for someone, did you not?" Adam's statement appeared almost haughty as he spoke, making David want to laugh out loud. If only the boy knew!

"Yes, I did. Were you hoping to meet someone too?"

"No. Not just SOMEONE, David," the younger man took another long, deep drag of his cigarette, and exhaled. His elbow bent and propped on the table as he smoked, cigarette dangling between his elegant white fingers, Adam leaned forward, until his gaunt face only inches from David's, "I came here for YOU."

Pleased by the remark, a wide slow smile spread over David's thin face. Adam was flirting, blatantly. He had no doubt the young man would accompany him home. And in his depraved mind, David believed he'd won. Maybe not the entire game. Not yet. But at least the very first round.

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