The stroke of midnight:

Cg=15 almost 16

Anna=12

Chp01

The frigging car is bucking, whining and sputtering as I nurse it, the last hundred yards towards Lost Lake. I stole Elliot car this morning after a night tossing and turning over the demands of Eliana. It's been two weeks since she first slapped me and sucked my dick, yesterday she belted me, till welts appeared on my back and ass. She is demanding a decision.

I need air to think, understand what is going on in my life. Originally, I thought of going to the farm in Dryden in the Wenatchee valley. The heart of Apple country as T likes to say. But the car started to act up crossing the Snoqualmie Pass on Hwy90. I saw the sign for Hyak, remembering the sledding and the hidden lakes. I pulled off driving thru Hyak ; down Hyak drive to NF9070. South on past the Keechelus Lake on NF115 thru the summer cabins then north on NF5480. The car died about a mile south of Lost lake.

I walk the rest of the way. Lost in thought and pain, the welts break and bleed. Rasping my skin to angry ribbons of pain. The water is cool and bright in this boiling summer day. I strip uncaring for the world.

No one is here on this Wednesday morning. I plow into the cold water, letting the world drift away. I swim for the far shore, unsure if I will make it, uncaring if I don't survive. Lost in my head on Lost lake

I let the pain encompass me, with brutal harsh stabs. I look up, the shore is still far away. I see a small bay and finger of a peninsula on the north shore. I drift in my mind, as the world takes my fate.

I wake on the rocky beach of the little bay. Not much more than hundred feet wide maybe twenty-yard deep. My face lapped by the water. I thought I died. A wet towel is gently laid on my back. Soft hands caress my wounds. I can't raise my head to wonder who is touching me. I drift to sleep, grateful sleep.

I wake in a hammock spread under the trees. I don't know how or why I got here. I look out and see a young girl, too young, naked washing her body in the lake. I stare mesmerized by her long brown hair gleams in the fading sunlight of the day. My body reacts to her, like no other I've ever met. I should feel guilty about lusting after one so young, but the thoughts and guilty never materialize, instead the deep need to have her, have her forever rams thru my psychic. She too far away to see her face. But I bet she's an angel. I try to stay awake, but peaceful visions drift, collide into black ink of needed slumber.

I wake as twilight lose it daily battle to the sun, I feel safe, loved, and held. The mop of brown hair cascades my chest. Her soft breath curls my few chest hairs and make my cock rock hard. I careful remove her, shifting out of the hammock to the ground, my body unstable. I stagger into the trees, finding a tree to piss on, I realize I'm naked. Where are my clothes?

In the rushing light thru the evergreen trees; I see them hanging on a line. I dress wonder were the adults are? She moans in her sleep, thing flood my heart and ache my chest. I move to her, touching her face, she grabs my hand and drags me back into the hammock. We lay awhile, her t-shirt and panties back to my chest. I feel strange things, hurtful, and wrenching to my soul.

I feel hurt, as tears flow from my eyes at the thoughts of my birth mother, Grace, even Dad and Elliot. All my life I have need that acorn of sorrow and pain to hold my sanity in check, now it flees me like darkness from the sun. She shifts into me, hugging me, licking my chest. Purring to me. She wipes my tears and kisses my lips, escaping the hammock. I lay their confused and hurt, she left me.

She bangs some pots and pans, signaling food. I rise following the sound to a campsite. A couple of bear proof coolers, three bear barrels in the trees, and a propane camp stove and lantern. A lawn chaise lounge chair and foot locker of cloths and books. Where are the adults?

"I'm Anna. You are Christian Grey of Bellevue. Welcome to my exile." She purrs in a voice and eyes that belie her age. The painful tint in her blue orbs is starkly like my grey ones in the mirror. She makes powder eggs.

"How did you Know?" I ask, stupidly.

"Well after I dragged your naked ass to the beach. I walk around till I found the cloths, car. You have a busted engine. I walked back to find you crawling into the woods. I managed to get you here and in the hammock yesterday. Who beat you? you parents?" she asks

"It's a long story, where are the adults?"

"We have time, My dad's not due for till Monday. So, start talking Chris? We have several days." She smart mouths me smirking frying canned bacon. I think hard on what is going on, what the hell is going on? After we eat, cleaning up the pots and pan. I ask "Why?"

"My mother remarried a real asshole who got off beating me, touching me. I ran away, the court dragged me back to hell in Las Vegas. I escaped this time and Dad is working the courts to get custody. So I stay, hidden here till he get back. They can't send me back if they can't find me." she walks away staring at the lake. I hear sobs, I feel like shit. But she needs her space.

I walk to a tree near the shore, sit and wait. The waiting is painful, that I caused her pain. The first time I relate to someone and she's a kid. What is wrong with my brain? I let the sun chase to noon. The fish jump, the bird flock. The whine of the bugs ebbs and flows about me. I feel her cuddle into me. I put my arm around her and hold her. She clutches my chest. All I feel is her need for me.

We sit and watch the world turn into evening. As the last rays of day stroke the waters, casting sparkles along the shore. I breathe deeply. "I am a fuckup, an asshole and monster. I can't stand people, or even myself. My family hates me. I have no friends and evil bitch wants me to have sex with her if I let her beat and control me. an I want to have sex. But I can't take being victim again." I hyperventilate

"I think I understand, #3 like to beat mom during sex. Tie her up and control her. Make her believe and do what he wants. Even convinced her to give me to an older man to break me in. that why I ran the first time. No one believed me, till this time I showed the bruise and welts. Welts like yours. No one believes a kid?" she says brave and shaking. I hug her tight. Kissing her hair.

"I was adopted, my family got a dud. they can't take me back, looks bad, you know society and all. So they feel responsible, I fight, drink, drugs, and now allow a woman old as mom to beat and fuck me. I don't know what to do?" I vent, letting the words out, letting my chest breath. I deeply inhale the forest scented lake air.

"Why do you do all that?" she asks, cutting thru my bullshit to the core.

"I can't have, I mean people can't touch me." she looks up at me, big blue doe eyes. not understanding.

"I'm touching you?" she asks, afraid she hurting me.

"I don't know why you can. Usually I feel the pimp burning me with cigarettes. The smell of my flesh, the pain, the hopelessness. I'm so confused right now." I let the words mix with my Tears.

"Pimp?"

"I was adopted when I was four. My birth mother was a drug addict, crack. She slept with men for money. Her pimp starved us, beat us, and tormented me. the scars on my chest are cigarette burns. He like to torture me for fun. She overdosed one day. He came on the third day, and left us there in the apartment on the third floor in the red crumpling building. Next day, police came and took me away." I feel a strange weight off my shoulders and letting the airs cool me.

"you were with your dead mother for four days? That must have been hell?" she hugs me rising up kissing my tears. The feeling is one of atonement, release from the pain and guilty of all those years ago. I unleash my mind, letting her kindness and compassion heal my scars.

"yes, My mother Grace. Was the doctor in the ER that night. She's an Angel; understanding my touch issues. They adopted me. her and her husband. Little did they know the dud they picked."

"You're not a dud, stupid yes. dud no. So, that why you tried to drown yesterday. To run away from the world, your life? I know exactly what you feel. I tried three months ago to OD on the drugs my mom takes. But she found me, made me throw up and beat the crap out of me." she sits on my lap. I feel things I should not feel for a child. She feels my discomfort. Smirks at me.

"you need to cool down? (she stands, smirking at me from ahigh) jump in the lake, stud" she teases walking away striping off her shirt and jeans leaving only her underwear. Wading into the cool water. I strip to my boxer. Following, laying in the shallows I realize how comfortable I am right here, now. With her. I've never been comfortable with anyone. The close's is Mia or mom.

"Two weeks ago, as punishment for stealing dad whiskey, they sent me to the Lincolns to do manual labor. The second day. Mrs. Lincoln, Eliana came up with an ice tea, I got smart mouth she smacked me and then dropped and sucked my dick. The first releases by another person, I mean sex with someone else. Not my hand. I mean. Sorry? I shouldn't have said that." I dunk myself to hide my shame.

Rising up from the water she smirks at me. "I've seen a lot of sex stuff when mom married asshole #3. I've seen plenty of blow jobs, hand jobs, straight, Greek, everything. They used to make me watch porn with them. I know a lot of sick shit. So that when she wanted to beat you for sex?" she states bright red, despite her speech, she is a beet color little girl. I nod. Feeling ashamed I said everything, anything too destroys her innocence.

"Chris, stop feeling guiltily, you didn't hurt me, shock me. my mother and #3 did all that months ago. You're just dealing with the choice, at least you had a choice. I never did. Till I escaped. So Mrs. Robinson wants to beat you for sex?"

"Mrs. Robinson, from the movie, yea, she wants me to be her slave, she will teach me control and how to get what I want." I sound stupid defend her.

"I have some nice beach front property in central Nevada. If you believe that bullshit. Control, that's the word. She'll control you, even after the sex ends. You'll be tied to her forever. I've been reading books on how peoples like that and #3 work, destroy kids like us. There a couple in the foot locker." She tells me, god she's smart for her age. I see the innocent blue orbs smirking at me, she deeper and more experience that I could imagine.

"I'll have time tomorrow to read them. What do I do? About her. And you?" I ask strangely afraid of the next words from her sweet smiling mouth. I long to kiss her, like a woman. But I know that wrong, and will destroy our bonds here and now. The thought cools my sex, washes my mind. With a terrible and foreboding thought. I need her, to be my friend, my secret confidant. My possession. That the wrong word. She possesses me. I think. I'm confused by what I know, want, and need. I need sleep. Food. We get out of the dark lake, dry off, and she cooks some food, canned stew. We eat in silence.

Later she takes me to the hammock and we sleep. I fade to dreamless slumber the minute her head rest on my chest.

XXXXXXX

Sunday:

I wash in the lake. Her dad is coming tomorrow. There going home or to Tunisia, depending on what happens. She tells me, I have to leave tomorrow. Walk out of the woods to my home. We pushed the car into the woods, hiding it from her dad vision. We have hatched a plan, for me to go home. I know it will be tough, but we set up a mail drop, email, phone and chat setups. She will be my friend, and confidant. During the coming trials and days in school.

She wades into the shallows washing the frying pan. Her bare legs and underwear twist my mind. When she is legal she will be mine. I vow in the lake water, feeling my mind clear and my will pure. She will be my wife when she is ready. The thought hardens my resolve, to be faithful to her. To be her first, and last.

She dumps a pan of water on my head. Smirking at me. "what had you so serious Chris? Tomorrow?"

"When your legal, I'm going to marry you. Make you mine forever!"

"Maybe, maybe not. Prince charming may waterski across the lake tomorrow. Besides. You have to win the hand of the lady fair. Mrs. Austin says so!" she teases me, splashing me with the frying pan scoops of water.

I chase her, crashing her into the shallow water. She rises and kisses my lips, blowing my mind. She releases looking deep into my eyes. "when I am legal the answer is yes" she scrambles from under me. leaving me sitting in the cold water. Working the emotions, thoughts and future in my head. She promises to say yes!

She legal in 4 years. By then I'll be in college or maybe start my company. Now I have a reason to succeed and be good. I want her, as my wife. My life. My soulmate. The nagging doubts she'll change her mind, haunts me. I will win her, no matter what happens. I just hope I don't have to compete with Arab prince charming's.

Xxxxxxxxxx

I watch them pack up and leave, she drops a note under the hammock. After their gone, I retrieve the note. Reading I dance around the empty campsite, yelling and screaming happiness. One word on the paper "Montesano"

I walk the miles thru the wood to FN115. Walking up towards Hyak. A fisherman heading home gives me a lift. I call from the independent Gas station in Hyak. Hours later the Grandparents arrive and take me to the farm. Sitting on the floor, my back to a wall. I tell them about Lincoln, and what she wants, did to me. why the school stuff happens. For the first time, I unburden my life to my family.

I sleep in mom's old room. Feeling her presents even in my sleep. I wake, feeling confined. I run around the orchard a few times. Walking up to the house, I see their car in the drive. I enter the house and walk up to my mother, Grace and hug her. Letting the past escape my mind, letting the future guide me.

We talk and they listen. Lincoln will be dealt with. They see all the missed steps and lost opportunities to heal me, us. I will stay at the farm for the rest of the summer. Working, paying off them and repairs to Elliot car.

They leave for home and the destruction of Mrs. Robinson. I jog down the road to a mail box, placing a letter in the neighbor's box for outgoing mail. I watch from the tree line; the mailman picks up the letter.

My first missive to my future. The road to marriage and a life worth living. Four years to go, one day at a time. One letter at a time. Now I have to wait for her reply before I can send another. I start a journal I'll mail it when she can take a box. At least it's not airmail to Tunisia.