All Kids Go…

Rushed images replay in his head; he's trying, trying so hard to forget them. The heated breathing, the forced touches…He wishes that they would just go away. For days, the images are on constant replay. How many days, has it been though? Three, he thinks, but he can't be sure since his days have woven together. Has he slept at all? He doesn't think so…

He's sitting at his desk looking at his open math book, but not thinking of the problems. His eyes wonder around to look at the contents of the desk; comic books, old action figures and various things that you would find on a teenage boy's desk. They all look foreign to him, though, as if he's never seen them before. A sudden distaste for them builds in his gut, and he gets the urge to just fling his arms at them and knock them to the ground.

He pushes the anger down, though, and grabs a dusty Batman figure. He remembers the day that he got it—his tenth birthday and Connor had gotten the same one. Their Ma could only afford one thing for each of the boys, but he loved so much. Now, though, he looks at it with a slight hatred. He wants things to go back to that day when he got the toy, back to when things were simple and good.

He's too busy staring at Batman's unmoving face to hear his brother push open his door, "Hey, Murph, have yeh finished the math homework?"

Murphy looks behind him at his brother, "No." He speaks it barely above a whisper and he notices how raspy his voice still is from…He pushes the thought out of his head, "Have yeh?"

Connor, noting how detached his brother is, walks over, ignoring the question he was asked, and peers over his shoulder, "Yeh haven't even started! And what are yeh doing with tha' Batman action figure? Playin' a game? Jeez, Murph, aren't yeh a little old fer tha'?"

He could hear Connor smile, but the anger Murphy had pushed back was finding its way to his mouth with each tantalizing question that his brother asked. He didn't even know what he was saying. He wasn't forced to give up his childhood-his innocence- early. He wasn't…His brother is, "So stupid…Jus' shut up, Connor."

He's vaguely aware that he said that out loud when he feels his brother's eyes glare at him. He doesn't care though, and goes back to looking at Batman, the feeling of nostalgia washing over him. They were happy that day, when they unwrapped their matching action figures from the newspaper their Ma had used. He was happy…That was something. He can't grasp the idea that at one time, he was happy. That night he was trying so hard to forget wasn't so long ago, but it felt like an eternity. He feels years older now, as if he isn't sixteen, but more like fifty.

"What's yer problem, Murph? I was only kiddin'." Connor looks at his brother with worry. He sees dark circles forming under his brother's eyes and notices that they have lost their youthful spark. Murphy is the more daring of the two, always up for an adventure, and even when they were just relaxing that spark would be there. Now, though…

He wonders when Murphy stated to look like this…It had to have been recently, but he can't remember anything that would have caused his brother to look like he does. Last week, he had been plain ole' Murphy who had wild eyes and a mischievous grin. He would at least tell Connor if something was bothering him…

Or so he thinks.

"Murph, yeh know that yeh can tell me anythin', right?" Connor means what he says and he hopes that his brother knows that. There was never a time in their life that they didn't keep secrets from each other. When Connor had kissed Julia from his Spanish class, he told Murph. Hell, he even told him when he got in her pants. Murphy told him when he got to third base with Maria last year at a school football game. That's just what they do. They never keep each other out of their lives.

Murphy seems to have forgotten that, though, and that worries Connor, "I'm serious, Murphy. Anythin', yeh can tell me anythin'. I won't hate yeh. Promise."

His brother nods, "It's nothin', Con. I'm just tired."

Connor doesn't fully buy his brother's words and lightly touches his shoulder, and frowns when he feels Murphy tense underneath him, "Murph?"

Murphy maneuvers from his brother's touch, "Don' touch me…Please."

Connor is sure that his brother's voice sounds strained and broken, but he doesn't call him on it. He tells himself that it's because Murphy really is tired and just wants to be left alone. Maybe he was picked on today-not that it was likely since everyone loves Murphy, but maybe someone doesn't. An older kid, maybe.

"Okay, I'll jus' go back to my room. See yeh at dinner." He turns as heads towards the door, and walks slowly, hoping that Murphy will stop him and tell him what is going on, but he doesn't. He sits hunched over in his chair, his left leg drawn up close to his body and looks at the Batman figure. Connor lingers for only a moment at his brother's door thinking that maybe something more than just being picked on his bothering his brother. However, he shrugs it off and goes to his own bedroom to work on the last bit of his math homework.

As he works, though, he thinks of anything that may have caused his brother to act like he was. He has been withdrawing himself for a few days now, not talking much at the lunch table. Connor had barely noticed it and blamed it on stress when he did. But the looks though, they were harder to place a blame on. Murphy has taken to looking over his shoulder every chance he got, as if something was going to get him. Connor can't quite understand why Murphy would do that unless someone really is picking on his younger brother. And if that what is really going on, then may God be with him because Connor doesn't mess around when it comes to his brother's wellbeing.

/|\

Murphy sits at the dinner table picking at the green beans on his plate. He's not hungry and really just wants to go to his room and lay down. Connor is watching him while he chats with their Ma. She's watching him, too, and Murphy doesn't like it. He knows that a confrontation is about to come, so he thinks of things to say if she asks him why he isn't eating. He'll tell her that he's not hungry, because he really isn't. Food hasn't interested him since he was ra—He stops himself mid-thought. He can't bring himself to say it.

"Yeh gon' eat there, Murph?"

"I'm not hungry, Ma," he says on cue, his words starting just as her's finished.

"Yeh haven't been hungry for tha last two days, son! Yer gon' need to eat sometime, yeh know."

He sees Connor look up worriedly at him when their Ma says that he hasn't eaten in the past two days. Did he not notice?

"I know, Ma. But I'm really not hungry. I'm jus' gonna go to bed." He stands and grabs his still-full plate and sets it on the counter as he exits the kitchen. He hears his Ma sigh sadly as he leaves and he feels a pang of guilt. He doesn't mean to hurt her or Connor, but he really can't help it. They wouldn't understand what he was going through.

He walks through his room and over to his bed, sitting gently on it. It's a comfortable bed and Murphy suddenly feels very tired, so he slides into his blankets, not bothering to change into his pyjamas. He doesn't want to fall asleep, scared by what his dreams may conjure up, but his body defies his mind and he's soon greeted by darkness.

/|\

Lips blindly press against his bare skin and he's suddenly aware of how cold he is; his attacker has shed him of his black turtleneck shirt and peacoat when he pulled him into the dark alley. He's trying to push whoever is on top of him off, frantically whispering at him to stop, but he's weak and scared. He feels fingers pushing into the skin on his sides and he knows that he's going to bruise, judging by the force this person is using.

"You're so…ugh." He feels something hard press his thigh, and he instantly knows what's going to happen.

He panics and tries to scream for help, but he's muffled by strong, chapped lips and a hungry tongue. He doesn't like the feeling of this tongue in his mouth; it feels wrong but he finds his body pressing into it. His attacker grinds into his hip lustfully, moaning into Murphy's ear, "Wanted this for so long."

"Please…No." The strong hands that pressed into his sides move toward Murphy's belt, and he tries, oh god he tries to get away, but the man on top of him is holding him to the ground with his weight. Cold air suddenly meets his skin as he feels his pants and briefs being pulled to his knees.

He's shaking now, from fear or the cold, he's not sure. The lips are back and pressing into his skin, only lower this time. Murphy feels a tingling sensation growing in the pit of his stomach, "No…"

"It's okay, it's okay."

Murphy squeezes his eyes shut. It's not okay, he's scared and cold and—Oh god! He screams out loud as he feels something hard thrust in and out of his body.

"Murphy…"

He's crying as his attacker forcefully kisses him again, his thrusts growing harder, faster. God, it hurts. He wants to fight, to try to get away but he finds that he's lost control of his arms, as they are laying limply to his sides. He prays silently, asking God to help him, to make this just go away. It doesn't though, and he feels a hand wrap around his…

"Please, stop," he says weakly, the panic building again.

With each thrust that his attacker makes, the hand around him pulls. Murphy's brain is screaming for him to stop, not at all liking the contact, but his body says otherwise.

His back is on fire as it's rubbed against the hard ground, "Oh god, Murphy."

He doesn't like the feeling of the substance left in him as his attacker pulls out of his body or the stickiness left on his stomach. Waves of pain spiral through his body as the man above him crashes his lips down on his once more. Murphy feels the pressure on him lift as he watches his attacker stand and adjust his clothes.

"Murphy," he watches the man move around him, eyes looking all over his naked form. Admiration is laced through his almost velvety voice, and Murphy can vaguely hear the smirk on his lips. But he's heard this voice somewhere, he's sure of it, but his mind is too tired to process it…

"Murphy," his attacker says again, leaning down to inspect him. He doesn't like the way that his attacker says his name. He says it with so much lust that it makes Murphy sick, "Murphy."

With as much strength as he could muster up, Murphy shoots his body forward, "NO!"

The alley and his attacker are gone and his eyes are greeted to the darkness of his room and Connor sitting in front of him. He looks worried and Murphy knows that he must've talked in his sleep.

"You okay, Murph? Yeh were moanin' in yer sleep, and yer all sweaty. Didja have a nightmare?"

He doesn't say anything and as much as he hates the contact, he wraps his arms around his brother's broad shoulders. He doesn't realize that he's crying until he hears Connor whispering, "Shh, Murph. It's okay, it's all over now," as he pulls Murphy close. He's rubbing his back, rubbing against the bruises and scrapes from that night and Murphy wonders if he can feel the outline of the scabs.

Murphy wants to tell him so badly that it's not okay, it's not over. He wants so badly for Connor to know what happened, but he can't tell him that he was, "Raped."

He feels Connor take a hard hold on his shoulders and jerk him back, "What did yeh say, Murph?"

Revised 8/06/16

Was that okay? Please let me know.

Inspired by Gemma Hayes' song All Kids Go; it's great, and you should go listen to it!

I've decided to go back and edit this story, add a few things here and there, and completely rewrite a couple of chapters.

I really hope that you enjoy this story, and please leave a review telling me what you thought!