He lies there. Unawake. It’s dark. Cold. He’s aware. Lips brush against his. They’re real. Not a figment of his nightmare-corrupted mind. The breath is tainted with the taste of alcohol; the tongue…of sin and blood. He could try and resist, but that is where he would be left. Trying.
There were hands now. Roughly handling every ounce of his no longer innocent body. Squeezing his face, raking his side, pushing and forcing him. No. He refused. He couldn’t resist, but he refused to respond. His tormentor would not receive the sweet pleasure of observing his pain.
Then he was up, being carried and a moment later dropped. Then cold. So cold. It was all around him, creeping up through his back and rushing down over his front. His hands were tugged over his head, left held in place by one of his tormentor’s. The other moved around his adolescent body teasing heat in simple, craving patterns. His body shivered. He felt the smirk permeate the cold around him. The chill pierced his mind, freezing him in terror.
The creature noticed, and the hand trailed lower evoking an irresistible headiness inside him. He aroused and shivered continually. He couldn’t stop shaking. His body begged and pleaded for heat but the air around him was ice, and the only supplement stood above him sneering, relishing in its art of torture. His face twisted in pain and his brow furrowed in concentration.
A dark laugh sounded above. “You can’t resist,” a forebodingly masculine voice mocked. The boy refused to respond, he wouldn’t satisfy this twisted man again. “Look at me,” he cooed. “I want to see your pain.” The boy kept his eyes closed, unmoving save for his shivering.
“I said look at me!” The man squeezed the boy causing his eyes to snap as he gasped in pain. “You know you can’t win.” He bit his lip as the truth crept into his heart. “You know you’re just gonna let me win like every other time.” Tears streamed out of the boy’s eyes at this accusation.
“No…” he breathed.
“Yes.” The figure smiled. He grabbed the boy’s hips and forced himself in as deeply and roughly as possible. The boy screamed in sheer agony, his body arching and shifting, trying to ease the pain. The rapist laughed at his victim’s struggles.
“That’s right. Struggle. Scream. Cry. Beg.” He slammed into the youth with each word for intense emphasis, and the boy obeyed. He struggled. He screamed. He cried. He begged...
“Please! Please! AH! STOP! PLEASE!”
“Not convincing enough.” He ground harder, sparing more control. A thick wetness was surrounding him as he furthered his rape. The boy gasped for the air to stay conscious, clawed to hold to the realm of the awake.
“Please…END IT!”
“Well…there’s only one way for that,” he grinned. He thrust faster deeper, harder, sharpening the boy’s pain, tearing him another countless time. Finally, the night’s torture stopped as they released together. As the boy tightened, ripping him more he screamed in absolute pain. The man smiled bittersweetly as he pulled out covered in blood.
“Now. Clean me.” The boy closed his eyes, sorrow filling his soul at yet another defeat. He sat up and “cleaned” the rapist. “Hm…” The rapist looked down. “Do better next time.” He laid a powerful slap to the boy which sent him sprawling. The boy curled up holding himself, whimpering and sobbing. The shadow opened the door leading to the room, a loud crack followed by a thud resounded in the room. The boy screamed in terror.
“Rem! Rem!” a voice shouted. There was quickly a hand on his shoulder followed by arms surrounding him and pulling him close. “Rem. Rem, please.”
“…Rem…?”
“Yes, Rem. It’s me Chris. Please.”
“…Chris? Chris. Chris!” His breath hitched as reality came. “CHRIS!” He threw his arms around his savior. “Oh, Chris! Thank you! Thank you…” He cuddled close. “Chris…I don’t feel so well…”
That’s when Chris noticed the blood pooling from Rem’s torn muscle around them. “Rem! No!” He whipped out his cell and dialed 911. “Oh God. Oh God.”
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“My friend was raped and is bleeding out! I…he needs help!”
“Alright. We’ll have an ambulance over immediately. For now remain calm and try to staunch the blood flow. A police unit will be sent to arrest the rapist.”
“Oh, thank you, ma’am.” He hung up and cradled his beloved Rem, pressuring best he could.
“Chris…”
“Yes, Rem?”
“Could you sing to me again?”
“Of…of course, Remy.” He began to softly sing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” Rem rested his head over Chris’ heart. Chris gently ran his fingers through Rem’s hair as he held him close.
“I love you, Chris.” Chris nodded as he sang. A couple minutes passed. As he neared the end of the song, sirens wailed outside, doors slammed, people hustled. The EMT’s burst into the room as he sang the final note. He closed the boy’s eyes, burying his face in Rem’s neck.
“We’ll take it from here, sir.” Chris hugged Rem tight.
He whispered, “I love you too, Rem.” The EMT’s lifted the boy onto the gurney, wheeling him out as the officers cuffed the rapist and brought him to the car. Chris walked to the threshold of the building, stepping out of the dark, out of the filth, out of the fetid stench of rape.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be okay,” one of the EMT’s reassured Chris. But he knew. He had felt Rem’s heart, felt his breath, his warmth.
He knew. Rem was dead…

Impressum

Texte: I claim no ownership of the image used on the cover.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 02.08.2010

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