Okay well I’m back.  I have to say that I think I am kinda proud as to where this is going.  I usually have really crappy dwindling to shit stories, but this has maintained non-suckage.  Twelve is being worked on already…

 

“I put a spell on you,

Because you’re mine.

I can’t stand the things that you do,

No, no, I ain’t lyin.

I don’t care if you don’t want me,

‘cause I’m yours, yours, yours,

Anyhow.”

 

This quote come’s from the Marilyn Manson version of ‘I Put A Spell On you’ and is meant more in a metaphorical sense for this chapter than literal.  It is meant to reflect the feelings rather than actions of the characters and the effect they had on each other.  Read it and you’ll get it.

 

 

 

Chapter: 11

 

            The aftermath was a blur to me. I thought that once this was all over I would feel better, but I didn’t- not at all.  The guidance counselor came outside to see what was going on.  Someone had obviously gone in and told him that something was going on, namely that Jonathan Davis had lost it.  Jon stood in front of me.  He had just dropped the shard of glass in his palm to the pavement.  The same shard of glass that had ripped him open only moments before.

“I thought you loved me.” He barely said.  The words acted like needles in my heart.  From there it was like the air was thick and heavy.  Everything went into slow motion.  People moved slowly, fighting against the air like it was a thick fog.  It seemed like ages for the counselor to make his way over to where we stood, but when he did, things went back to “normal” speed and Jonathan took off running before anyone could stop him.  The counselor looked at me, but I felt more like I was looking through him.  I turned and walked around my car, got in, started the ignition and drove away.  The students parted ways and the teacher yelled, but I didn’t care.  I didn’t care about anything anymore.  What had I done?

            When I got home I retreated to my room, but it wasn’t long before the phone rang.  It was Louis, and I could hear Derek breathing on the other end of the line as well, listening in.

            “What do you want?” I growled.

            “Did you really fuck him?  Or is he a lying little cock sucker?” Louis asked.

            “I didn’t fuck him.  He was just pissed off.  He thought our little ‘relationship’ was real.” I lied again.

            “You are a lying sack of shit Bowen.” Derek cursed from his end of the line.

            “I thought you weren’t going to say anything?” Louis said before I could say anything in my own defense.  Derek continued.

            “What were those bite marks from if you didn’t fuck him huh?” He questioned.  I was silent.

            “God you’re a faggot just like him.  I’m telling all the guys.  They’re never going to believe they showered in the same room as the second fag in the school.” Derek spat.

            “Fuck you!” I growled into the telephone.

            “The date is off with Rachel.  She found it all out.  She thinks you’re fucking sick now.” Derek replied haughtily.  Tears burned my eyes.

            “I don’t care anymore.” I muttered.  I didn’t listen for a response to come from the other end of the line.  I just numbly cradled the phone.  What have I done?  What for?

 

***

 

            Nothing really began to hurt until I got home, well physically anyway.  But the moment I got in the door I howled in pain and collapsed at the front door, leaning against it and breathing heavily.  My skin had broke out in a cold sweat which worsened when I looked down to see the dark reddish spot on my black t shirt.  My heart started to race and my breathing took on the familiar wheezing sound.  Not now.  Please not now.  The last thing I needed at the moment was an asthma attack.  As far as a panic attack; I was too emotionally wrung out for one.  I sat there as calmly as possible and paid attention to my breathing, rather than what had just happened to me.  I nearly jumped a mile high when the front door opened only a few feet away from me a few minutes later.  I looked up slightly and recognized Alyssa’s sandal clad feet.

            “Oh my God Jon!” She cried and landed on her knees beside me a second later.  I wanted to be sick.  Now I could let myself get scared.  Now I really started to feel the pain in my stomach and my hand.  I clenched my fist in an effort to make the pain stop, and stop the bleeding but it didn’t do much.

            “What happened?!” Alyssa asked.  I looked at her dumbly, actually tried to form words, but I choked as I tried to form the word “Adam”.  It didn’t matter, she knew the word I had tried to form on my lips and her eyes darkened and narrowed into a glare. 

            The next hour was like a blur to me.  When I did manage to come to some reality I was laying on my side in the fetal position in bed.  I squinted at the harsh darkness of my room and the contrast of the lamp beside me on the bedside table.  My hand was wrapped in gauze, a small amount of blood leaking through the layers.  I was still wearing my bloody t shirt but could feel a thick layer of gauze wrapped all the way around me.  I lay there and stared at my hand for the longest time.  Tears started to trail down my cheeks as I remembered over the past week how much I had been used.  Before long I was sobbing again.  Only this time, this week, I had nobody, and Adam’s kind embrace from before meant nothing.  It left me feeling more hollow and alone then I had ever felt before.  I jumped when somebody knocked on my door.

            “Jon are you awake?” Alyssa called.

            “Yeah…” I called.  My voice sounded hoarse from crying.  I wiped my tears on the bed sheet before uncoiling myself from the fetal position and going to the door.  Alyssa looked startled when I opened the door and looked out at her face at my doorway in the bright hallway.  I squinted.

            “You look terrible.” She said quietly. 

            “Thanks sis.” I grumbled.

            “How are you feeling?” She asked.

            “Like I just got run over with a train.” I muttered.  I went out to the living room where I promptly curled up on the couch.  Alyssa plopped down next to me.

            “Will you tell me what happened?” She asked quietly, “I mean, it’s not every day I come home and my brother has collapsed at the front door and has been stabbed.”  I gulped and the nervous flutter of a panic attack began slightly in my chest.  I swallowed it down and forced myself to at least be honest with Alyssa- she wouldn’t be the kind to rub it in my face that she had been right.

            “Adam broke up with me.” I said softly.  Alyssa didn’t look surprised but she looked sympathetic.  When I didn’t elaborate she spoke.

            “Well, I’m kind having a hard time linking that to finding my brother almost passed out and bleeding at the front door, help me out a bit?” She said.  I closed my eyes as if I could visualize a place to start.

            “He broke up with me, in front of…everyone, all his friends.  It was a dare.  It was a joke.” I mumbled.  The words turned my heart to ice.  I felt like cold water had just been poured over my head.  It was the first time the reality of the situation had actually gone anywhere other than in my head.  Alyssa sat back as if she had been slapped.

            “I freaked out and I can’t really remember what I did.  I cut myself.  I know that, and I ran away and I know for sure tomorrow will be hell.” I said miserably.

            “Jon, maybe you should take a day off to relax-” Alyssa began.  The front door slamming cut her off and we both looked up immediately to see a furious Lillie standing there.

 

***

 

            The doorbell rang at about 8:00.  My parents were watching television in then den and so even though my mood was horrible, I was the one who had to answer it the door.  When I did, I recognized Derek’s sister Rachel standing there and looking at me, eyes narrowed into slits as she scrutinized me.  I found that I really didn’t find her that attractive anymore.  In fact, she looked almost…trashy.  Her blond hair was pulled into a sloppy high pony tail to reveal originally brown roots.  She wore a tight tank top that had been manipulated into revealing most of her breasts, as well as a pair of jeans that looked tight enough to be painted on.

            “What do you want?” I said with a sigh.  She stared at me for a moment longer.

            “Who would have thought that you would be a faggot, I mean Jonathan Davis, yeah, but you….?” She said disgustedly.

            “I’m not a fag, it was a dare!” I said, stepping out of the house and shutting the door behind me so my parents wouldn’t hear.

            “Please, everyone in the school knows you fucked the little fag.” She spat, “Everyone was there when you ‘broke up’ with him.”

            “Rachel why are you here?” I asked abruptly, “Don’t you have a new guy lined up to blow tonight?”  She stepped back like she had just been slapped.

            “At least I fuck around with people of the opposite sex!” She spat, “At least I won’t die of AIDS.”

            “Rachel, you are more likely to die of AIDS that I am.  You’re dirtier than I’ll ever be, to think, I wanted to stick my dick in your mouth.” I said acidly, then added, “Actually it was a sure thing that I would.”  I look of absolute fury crossed over Rachel’s face and she stepped forward and smacked me sharply in the face.  My head snapped back but I didn’t care.

            “Are you finished?” I asked as she stood there in front of me, staring at me, “Because I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a bad day and I would like to go inside now and retire for the evening.”  When Rachel didn’t say anything I turned my back and opened the door, than slammed it in her face.

            “Is everything alright Adam?” My mother called from her spot on the couch next to my Dad while they watched game shows.

            “Everything’s fine mother.” I said neutrally as I slowly went up the stairs to my room in a march of defeat. My stomach was still not content as I lay back in my bed and attempted to fall asleep for the night.  The morning would be horrible.  Monday would be worse.  During the weekend rumors will have had a chance to procure and I would have to endure the hell of it.  You will have to endure the hell of it?  What about Jonathan?  Not only are people going to be calling him a fag, they’ll be calling him a psycho.  All thanks to your immature prank.  I sighed as my conscience nagged at me.  There was nothing I could do now.  I had done the damage and I would have to face the consequences.  I was being so selfish.  I always had been.  I accepted the dare for my own selfish reasons, to get some sort of sexual gratification and some validation among my friends.  Validation.  I laughed slightly at the thought.  Funny, Jon had never ever made me feel as if I had to be validated.  He had trusted me instantly, I had never felt the need to keep his approval.  Now I had hurt him- badly.  I was so selfish.  The last time I had fucked him, it had been just that- fucking.  I did it because I knew he was a sure lay, and I wanted him one more time before I threw him away.  Now my actions sickened me- especially when I compared them to when we had made love.  It sounded so sappy, but there was no other way to describe how I had felt that night other than indescribable emotion. I felt the first tear roll down the side of my face and disappear into my pillow.

 

***

 

Lillie’s eyes glowed with anger.  She stood with her fists clenched at her sides, her purse under her arm.  I cowered on the couch.

“Do you have any idea how ashamed you make me?” She hissed at me.  I looked at her cluelessly.  She stepped towards me.

“I was at my friend Maria’s house today, when her son comes bursting through the door blabbering on about how Jonathan Davis was a fag and had a freak out at school this afternoon.” She growled at me.  Alyssa jumped up.

“Leave him the hell alone.  He feels like shit enough without you making it worse.” She said.  I had never seen her mouth off to Lillie this much.

“Stay out of this Alyssa, this is none of your concern.” Lillie spat at my sister.  Alyssa stood up and took a step towards our stepmother.  I didn’t care anymore.  I got up off the couch and went, defeated, to my room and closed the door behind me, locking it.  I listened to the fighting going on outside my bedroom door, then Lillie’s feet pounding down the hall to my room.  There was pounding on my door and her yelling for a while, but I tuned it out.  I had fucked up.  I had done this to myself.  But I wanted to wallow in my own misery alone.  Nobody could ever feel what I was feeling right now.  Ever.  It had been my own stupidity and hopes that had got me into this mess.  My own need for affection from somebody, but I had been so desperate I had thrown myself at the one person who had offered me affection- without listening to my gut instinct that it wasn’t right.  I did this to myself.  That realization was the worst part of the day.

 

***

 

            I arrived at the kitchen table that morning, after getting almost no sleep, and flopped down into my seat.  It was Saturday, so my mom was in the midst of making a huge breakfast for all of us as she usually did every Saturday morning.

            “What’s wrong honey?” She asked immediately, “You don’t look to well.”

            “I didn’t sleep well last night.” I responded truthfully, though I had no intentions of telling her why.

            “Well maybe a good, healthy breakfast will wake you up.” My mom suggested so enthusiastically I couldn’t help but want to slap the smile off her face for being so damn happy.  She set down a plate of food in front of me- piled with bacon and eggs and homefries.  I looked away from it for a moment, but picked up my fork to at least make it look like I was eating something and just picked at my breakfast for awhile before excusing myself from the table.  My mother and father both looked at me questioningly.

“I don’t feel well.” I explained, “I think I need some fresh air.”  They both nodded and I went to the front door and put on me shoes.

“I’ll be back later!” I called and started down the street.  I kicked at pebbles and stones along the way, not even sure of where I was going yet.  I most definitely could not go to any of my friends houses.  I wanted, deep in my heart to go to Jonathan’s and apologize, but I couldn’t.  He wouldn’t believe me now- maybe he wouldn’t ever believe me.  I really had fucked up this time. 

I wandered until I found myself in the park.  The sky was overcast and dark today, no children were in the park with their parents on the swings.  It looked like the whole world had run away knowing that I would be there.  I sighed and went over to one of the swings swaying lightly in the breeze, and sat down.  I pushed the sand around with the toe of my running shoe and started to seriously think.  I found myself crying again.  And praying again, for a second chance.

 

***

 

            That weekend, before I went to work on Saturday night, I was surprised to see that my father actually showed some interest in my life.  I think that this time he noticed that I was spending more time in my room than usually and found that the fatherly prerogative was becoming too much.  Usually the drive over to the morgue was a quiet one, which included my Dad keeping his eyes on the road, and me listening to something in my walkman.  This time however, when I got into the car where he was waiting, my Dad prevented me from pulling on my headphones.

            “What?” I asked a little more harshly than I intended to.  My Dad’s face turned serious yet sympathetic.

            “Is there something you would like to talk about?” He asked.

            “No.” I said immediately.

“Let me rephrase that,” my father said as he turned on the ignition, “Is there something going on with you?”

“Yes.” I spat.  I was curious about my father giving a shit.  Now I wanted to test the limits.

“Well, would you mind telling me?  Your stepmother won’t-”

“Don’t call her my stepmother.” I growled, “She’s nothing like a mother.”

“Okay fine.” My Dad said defensively as he steered out of our neighborhood, “Would you like to tell me what’s going on though, you’ve stayed in your room the entire weekend, I haven’t seen your face in a long time.”

“Might help if you weren’t away on business so much.” I spat grumpily, avoiding my own issues.

“Jonathan, don’t start, I’m trying to be a father here, now you can either tell me what’s wrong or I can stop trying.” My Dad cried in frustration.  I shouldn’t have been so mean about him actually taking the time to give a shit for a change.  I should have thought ‘this is nice’ and ran with it.  I sighed but couldn’t bring myself to say “Dad I think I’m bisexual”, or anything of the sort.

“It’s nothing I’ll be fine.” I said, “Thanks for your concern.”

“I think we should talk about this another time.” My Dad said as he pulled into the parking lot behind the morgue.  I shrugged.

“Let me know when you have time to give a shit once more.” I said then got out and slammed the door.  I knew I shouldn’t have said it- but I had done a lot of things I shouldn’t have lately, including ever trusting Adam.  I should have known.

I walked up to the building, the change in my pockets for the bus jingling as I walked.  My steps were steady though I felt ready to shatter into a million pieces.

 

 

So much for this sounding good…lol…ah well the next chapter will be better- I promise!

 

 

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