Finally I’m back! Yay! I haven’t
written basically since fanfiction.net died.
Ever since then I haven’t seen much point… but now I have an idea
pertaining to Korn and I have a place to put it, so
why not?
Format:
Italics are
thoughts…and ***these are a point of view change.
Chapter: 1
Everyday was the same thing. I would sit there, bored as hell in his English class waiting
for it to end, and wonder if today is the day that I was going to get the shit
beaten out of me and stagger home at about six o’clock, of course missing my
bus, and then proceed to get yelled at by my stepmother, Lily.
I tapped his fingers on the desk, the nails painted purple as he
waited for the bell to ring and stared out the window. Today it was cloudy, and I vaguely wondered
if that was maybe a sign of my fate?
Groaning, I remembered that he had a load of Bio homework to do and a
shift at the morgue tonight. Fuck, getting beaten up just does not fit
into this evening’s agenda. I began
to tap his foot nervously against the metal leg on the desk as I turned his
head to look at the clock on the back wall.
Five minutes left of class. I just want to get this over with, just let them make it quick, and leave me alone for
the rest of the week. It sounded pathetic, like I actually wanted to get
beaten up. In a way, I did. That way I could stop worrying every time I
turned a corner or looked behind my shoulder, that
somebody was going to beat him up.
When the bell finally rang, I leapt up from my chair, realizing
how stupid I was being, if I could avoid being beaten up at all costs, I
would. I left the classroom with my
shoulders hunched in their usual way, avoiding looking at people, avoiding a
confrontation of any kind. I looked up
to see the doors ahead of me. Just one more minute to go and I’ll be safe
on my bus. I looked back down and
let out a startled grunt when I smashed right into someone…a very tall
someone…a very big, mean someone—Derek Bradshaw. I closed my eyes and readied myself for the
first punch.
When I opened my eyes from being knocked unconscious, I knew that
I could be anywhere in our hick town, even our county, but was relieved to see
that I was in the park four blocks from my house. I sat up slowly, my head spinning as I did
so. I felt blood trickle down my chin,
if it weren’t for the damn retainer I had to wear almost all the time I would
probably be missing some teeth. I leaned
over and spat blood onto the pavement beside me, not ready to get up yet. I felt kind of sick anyway. I looked around the park,
nobody was there to see me like this luckily.
It was as if my body was slowly waking up from pins and needles. A dull throbbing started to radiate from my
bones outward. My ribcage hurt and the
sudden shock of the pain left me breathless.
Just then, somebody loomed into view.
I curled up, reading for more kicks and abuse, my breathing already
ragged from the pain in my ribs.
***
I watched him stumble by, tripping a little over someone’s outstretched foot as he
found his table in the corner in the cafeteria.
My friends all around me laughed and I did too, just to belong. It was a little funny at first, seeing how
awkward this kid, Jonathan Davis was.
But now it was getting boring. I
was ready to move on and just leave him alone, maybe concentrate on more
important things. But my friends didn’t
see things that way.
“Man beating that little fag up
every week or so is getting boring. We
need something else to do.” Derek, not a friend but an acquaintance in my group
said. Nobody really said anything except
for my friend Lewis.
“I wonder if he’s actually gone out
with another guy before.”
“Eww man,
how can you even think that?” Derek spat.
“Oh come on, I’m sure everyone here
has wondered the same thing at one point in time.” Lewis said, “Right man?” he
conferred with me. I foolishly hadn’t
been paying attention.
“Uh, wha, sure.” I responded.
“Looks like we do
have someone that has been fantasizing about the little fag.” Derek
said, an amused smile crossing his face.
I wanted to slap it right off.
“Yeah, right, in your dreams.” I
said, trying to keep my cool. Reacting too
much would make Derek bug me more.
“No, probably in
his!” Derek laughed, pointing over at Jonathan rudely.
“Very funny, I bet you would just
love to have the vision of me in his pants.” I said cockily.
“Eww, man, just eww!” Lewis
cried.
“You would like that wouldn’t you?”
Derek challenged, “Well I have an idea.
If you’re so sure of your sexuality, ya fag, I
dare you to go ask him out, lead him on, and then dump him. That’ll give us something to do for awhile
other than beat him up.”
“And what do I get if I actually
follow through?” I spat.
“Oh, so you’re contemplating it?”
Derek sassed.
“If I didn’t you wouldn’t leave me
alone. So what do I get?” I said
aggressively.
“Hmm, what do you think Lou? What should faggot number two here get if he goes
out with faggot number one?” Derek said.
“How ‘bout free weed and you never
call him a faggot again?” Lewis suggested.
“That’s not worth it.” I interjected
right away, “I’ve got it.”
“What do you want?” Derek spat.
“I wanna
get laid by Rachel.” I said simply.
Rachel was Derek’s younger stepsister, and she was hot.
“I dunno
if I can do that man…” Derek trailed.
“No date, no dare.” I said
challengingly.
“Fine, it’s a done deal.” Derek
spat.
“You really want to see this don’t
you?” I smirked. Well prepare to have
some fun. I would definitely have my
work cut out for me.
We spent the rest of the lunch hour,
plotting out what was to be done about “the fag” today. I didn’t participate much in the
conversation. I was too busy trying to
think of a way to get out of this one.
“Guy’s this is stupid, can’t we just
leave him alone. I mean, he doesn’t need
to be beat up every fucking week.” I protested as my friends, now six of us,
went to find “the little fag” Jonathan Davis.
“C’mon don’t be Mr. Softie already,”
Derek teased, “Your supposed to be that later.”
“Shut up!” I spat.
The plan was simple. The rest of the guys were going to beat up on
Jonathan while I waited on the sidelines for them to be finished, and with
Jonathan’s luck, for him to wake up. I
was to race ahead to the park and wait for the guys to get there with Jonathan,
beat him up, then leave. Then my role came in as the knight in shining
armor. I would happen to be strolling by
on my way home from school, and spot him, then make some sort of connection,
weather I ask him out, or just kind of lead up to
it. I was beginning to regret taking
this dare more and more. Not because it
would involve asking a guying out, I was pretty sure about my sexuality, but I
wasn’t sure if the rumors I would have to deal with at school would be worth
getting laid by Rachel Hollings.
“There he is.” Bryan, another guy in
our group pointed out.
“Meet you at the park.” I muttered,
turning down the school hall and heading out the doors, a very bad feeling in
the pit of my stomach.
I sat on a bench, half hidden behind
a bush, listening to my walkman as I waited for the guys to arrive. When they did, it was loudly, and even I
could hear the noise through the heavy drums and electric guitars assaulting my
ears from my walkman. Quickly, I pulled
the headphones off my ears and hit the switch on my walkman, rendering it
silent. I could hear curses and yelling
coming from the guys, Jonathan included.
But when I actually saw them kick Jonathan and punch him, and throw him
to the ground, my stomach knotted. I had once done this. I
was guilty of doing the same sickening thing to a guy who had never directly or
even indirectly done anything to me. I
watched them all continue to kick Jonathan in his ribs, everywhere, and that
knotted feeling in my stomach grew much worse.
This was unreal. It was even more
primal and disgusting as I sat watching on the bench. Unable to take it much longer I turned to the
side of the bench and threw up into the bushes.
Hopefully the guys wouldn’t see that.
Then I’d really be branded a pussy.
After about another ten minutes, with me staring at the grass
below my feet, the yelling stopped. I
looked up to see all the guys across the park, leaving. My eyes traveled back to where they had been,
where an unconscious Jonathan lay curled up on the ground. I felt frozen, riveted to my spot on the
bench. After another few minutes I
looked up to see Jonathan stirring, sitting up.
It’s now or never. I got up and started to walk over to where
the wounded boy was.
***
“Hey- stop- I won’t hurt you.” The
voice above me said gently. I looked up,
from behind my arms, squinting a little at the sunlight and let my eyes adjust
to see the person who was now hunched down in front of me. Adam
Bowen? Doesn’t he hate me? Slowly, cautiously, I sat up.
“Are you okay?” he asked. I studied his face. He couldn’t be serious. Adam had participated in beating me up
numerous times, often being one of the ring leaders. Yet his blue eyes were sincere, oddly enough.
“Yes…” I said hesitantly, slowly,
“I’m fine.” I glared at Adam, examining
him closely. “Aren’t you finished
here? I’m not dead. I’m alive, and I am going home because I have
to work tonight.” With that I started to
pull myself up off the ground to a standing position. Adam grabbed my elbow and helped to pull me
to my feet. I pulled away violently.
“Relax, I was trying to help.” Adam
said coolly.
“Yeah, well I don’t need help from you.” I hissed, my
defenses now up.
“What’s wrong with you?” Adam said,
sounding genuinely surprised.
“What’s wrong with me?” I cried,
“What’s wrong with me? Let’s see
here. I just had the crap beaten out of
me by your friends. And now I am being ‘helped’ by a guy who
normally helps them kick the shit out of me.
That’s what’s wrong with
me!” With that I stalked away from the
guy, leaving him standing on the grass, or at least I thought I had.
“Jonathan wait!”
I stopped. Nobody had ever called me by my real name in
that entire group. I didn’t think they
even knew it. It was always “faggot”, “pussie”, “cock sucker”, “queer” or
“pretty boy” to them.
“I’m sorry okay?” Adam said,
slightly out of breath from jogging after me.
“Apology not accepted!” I growled.
“Did you not happen to notice that I
was not there this time?” Adam cried, his hand now on my upper arm. He was right.
I still kept my defenses up.
“So you spared me the dreaded fist
this one time. Congratulations. You must feel just like Mother Teresa, you’re
so gracious.” I spat.
“Jonathan stop
it!” Adam growled, tightening his grip on my arm. I flinched.
He noticed and eased up.
“Do me a favor and just leave me
alone.” I said quietly before turning away.
Adam, being the dopey jock that he was, stupidly followed me.
“What do you want?!” I finally
practically yelled.
“Go out with me on Saturday night.”
Adam blurted.
“What?” I said in surprise. It scratched out of my throat.
“Please?” Adam pleaded. The look on his face was vulnerable.
“I don’t know.” I said quietly. Oh my
god, do I actually like another guy? No
I can’t. It’s just because they call me
a fag all the time. This is a trick. He’s playing some sick joke on you. “I have to work on Saturday night.” I said as
an excuse both for myself and Adam.
“What is open past
“The morgue.” Then I walked away.
***
His response had startled me. I had expected that asking out the fag would
be easy. That he would
say ‘yes’ in a second. But he
didn’t. He had made some excuse about
having to work, and when I scoffed what was open at
“The morgue.”
He replied simply.
“You don’t work at the morgue.” I
said in disbelief as I started to follow him out to the street.
“You’re right. Of course I don’t know where I have a fucking
job, my mistake.” Jonathan spat at me, sarcasm thick in his speech. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Is he
serious?
“You- you’re not kidding?” I stuttered.
“Why would I be?” Jon said coldly.
“You mean you-”
“Yes I cut up dead bodies in my free
time.” Jon replied. I felt sickened just
picturing Jon with a scalpel in his hand, getting ready to dissect a human
being. Gross.
“So do you still want to go out with
me?” he said in almost a toneless, icy voice.
I stood there stunned.
“Didn’t think so,” Jon muttered
before turning back to me, “and besides, contrary to what your friends and the
rest of the fucking school thinks- I’m not gay.” With that, Jonathan walked away.
“Fuck.” I cursed under my
breath. Now I was really going to get
it. The guys at school would call me the
same things they called Jon for weeks on end, saying I was too much of a pussie to ask even the fag out.
Okay I know, that
it’s not too much, but now you have a lot of information so be thankful, be
happy…review!
Lux aka Suicidal Dream