Don't Tell Me
You held my hand and walked me home
The sun was setting and the wind had begun to pick up, sending the smell of the river wafting over the two boys as they made their way across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Racetrack continued to glance in Spot's direction. Something had been different about the other boy lately and he wished he knew what it was that actually had him in a good mood. But of course Spot wasn't going to say anything and Racetrack wasn't stupid enough to ask. He was afraid to. But he did often wonder what had been making Spot act strange these last few days.
He sighed. He would probably never know. Spot was a hard person to read. Hard to understand. But that was part of what made Race love him so much. He just wished Spot saw him the same way. He was fairly certain that Spot didn't have any feelings for him despite having been together for about three months now. And he never understood it. Usually the reason a person stayed with someone they didn't even have feelings for was when they were getting sex and if they left wouldn't get it anymore. But the thing was they had never had sex. Race wasn't ready and Spot had never pressured him. Therefore it had always confused him as to why Spot stayed with him. He prayed each and every day that maybe Spot did love him. But from the way Spot treated him half the time…it was probably more along the lines of Spot liked to beat him. Spot was violent. Racetrack was constantly going home with bruises that he expertly hid under his clothes and never let the other boys see.
So you'd think Race would just give up and leave but no he loved Spot too much to move on. He depended on Spot too much. Spot was like a drug that he couldn't get enough of. Even when Spot did something to hurt Race and break his heart, he still stayed. Stayed for that little fix he got one the rare occasion that Spot felt like holding hands or actually being nice to him and not hitting him. When he did consider leaving Spot and he'd try to tell the other boy he couldn't take it anymore, Spot would apologize and beg Race to stay. Race would tell him he only had one chance left and Spot would promise to be better. And of course. Race would stay. Even when that one chance turned to a million chances. There was no way he couldn't quit him. He was hooked. Or more appropriately, he was addicted to him.
Now Spot wasn't one to really show his emotions but when he did he wasn't afraid to. He'd hold Race's hand in public despite all of the glares and disgusted glances he got from passersby. He'd kiss the other boy without remorse no matter what anyone else said. But Spot was also an asshole and abusive and after making out with Race in public he'd turn right around and beat the shit out of him back at the lodging house because he had apparently done something to piss him off. But Race put up with it. Because he loved him.
Today had been one of those rare days where Spot was in a relatively good mood. But Race knew just how fast that could turn so he was being careful. Just because Spot was acting nice lately didn't mean it could change. Today they'd gone on a date and gotten something to eat at a Brooklyn diner and then gone to Central Park to make out for a while. When Racetrack had been about to head back home, Spot had done something to surprise him. He'd offered to walk him back to Manhattan. He never offered to walk him home. Racetrack reveled in that slight comfort. Maybe Spot was finally starting to actually like him back. Ha. Wishful thinking he thought.
Spot had stopped suddenly on the bridge and stood still, staring at him. The wind whipped his hair around his face and Racetrack couldn't help but admire the way Spot looked at that moment. So gentle. A mirage.
"Heya Race? You'se knows I'se love ya right?" slowly Race nodded. He knew Spot didn't love him. Where was he getting at? "Jus makin' shoah." With that Spot continued walking. Race quickly ran to catch up with the other boy and slowed when he did.
Race's eyes widened but he remained calm when Spot reached out to entwine his fingers in his. Gripping Spot's hand back hard, Race smiled to himself and couldn't help but look back at Spot who was smiling back.
I know why you gave me that kiss
It was something like this it made me go ooh ohh
Spot surprised him again when he stopped once again and leaned foreword to connect their lips in a searing kiss. Racetrack closed his eyes and kissed back hard opening his mouth when Spot licked at his lips. Spot's hands came up to tangle themselves in his hair and Race's own settled on Spot's hips. A few people walked passed giving them dirty looks but neither cared. They were far too wrapped up in their own little paradise to care.
They only pulled apart for the shear need to breathe. Both boys were panting and their hearts were beating near ninety miles an hour. Race's mind was spinning and all he could think was ohh.
You wiped my tears, got rid of all my fears, why did you have to go?
Racetrack hadn't noticed he'd been crying until Spot leaned toward him again and caressed his fingers along Race's cheek and pulled off the little drops, holding them up for him to see. Racetrack chocked a bit and lost it right there. Spot pulled him into an embrace and massaged his back gently speaking in soft whispers of how things were going to be alright. Race sobbed harder into Spot's shoulder and clung to his shirt like life support.
"I'se don' know what's gotten into ya and is makin' ya so nice but-"
He was cut off by Spot shoving him 's eyes darted over the other boy, tears still falling but now in confusion rather than happiness.
Guess it wasn't enough to take up some of my love
Guys are so hard to trust
"What da hell?! I'se bein' nice ta ya and you'se start complainin'?" Racetrack was appalled.
"I'se not complainin' Spot I'se was jus sayin'-"
"I'se knows what you'se was getting' too. Ya like me beatin' ya betta? Ya don' like me bein' nice?"
Did i not tell you that i'm not like that girl
the one who gives it all away
He'd stopped crying now. He refused to cry over Spot anymore. It was time for a change. "I'se swear Spot. Jus when ya's finally actin' nice and ya's have ta go and ruin it. God damn it Spot I'se done. I'se can' take it no more. I'm through." With that he turned and left Spot standing there on the bridge alone. He ignored Spot's cries for him to come back. He was shouting at him that he was sorry and hadn't meant to upset him.
"Get ya sorry ass back here! I'se said I'se was sorry ya's stupid bastard! Come back here and forgive me!"
But Race steeled himself and clenched his fists to his sides refusing to look back.
Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you, this time?
Did you think that it was somethin I was gonna do and cry?
Don't try to tell me what to do,
Dont try to tell me what to say,
You're better off that way
He reached the lodging house and immediately threw himself down on his bunk burying his face in the pillow. But he didn't cry. He would never cry over Spot again. He was through.
That hadn't lasted though. The very next day Racetrack went back. And the next day. And the next and so on. He was far too hooked to let go. Damn Spot to the fiery pits of hell and back. Race still loved him.
Spot still beat him when he felt like it. But it wasn't as bad. More playful banter now rather than outright abuse. Spot seemed to have mellowed out a bit after their fight on the bridge. He was holding his hand more often and his kisses were gentler. His words softer.
Don't think that your charm
and the fact that your arm is now around my neck
Will get you in my pants
But he was getting a bit more touchy feely lately too. And Race wasn't sure he liked it. He'd find Spot sliding his hands farther and farther up his thigh and once or twice Spot had actually grabbed him and caused Racetrack to moan gently before pushing the other boy away saying that he wasn't ready. Spot would nod and back off.
Today was different though. They'd been making out for a while now and Spot had his arm around Race's neck tugging him closer. Both boy's shirts were piled on the floor to give them both easier access to the other's necks and collar bones for kissing and nipping.
"I'se love ya Race. And see? I'se been getting' betta at bein' nice ain't I? Ain'tcha proud of me?" Race nodded his head as his only response trying to connect his lips with Spot's again. But the other boy wasn't complying. He just kept on talking. It was really irritating. He wanted to get back to kissing him. He was suddenly aware of Spot's hand creeping up his leg and then press his hand against his crotch. There was a lustful smirk on Spot's face. Oh shit, Racetrack thought. "Race? I want you. Bad." Without warning the situation had changed and Racetrack had been pushed down on the bed with his arms held above his head so that he couldn't fight back.
"Spot. Stop it. I'm not ready. Please." But Spot was hearing none of it. He kept one hand secured around Race's wrists while using the other to begin unbuttoning the struggling boy's pants. Racetrack kicked at him but Spot moved to straddle him.
"Quit fighin' me Race. I'se waited too damn long for dis." Racetrack managed to wrench his hands free and started fighting Spot back. Bad idea.
Spot hauled back and slapped Racetrack so hard it shocked the boy into stillness. Tears threatened to fall and Spot took the earned time to finish undoing his pants pulling them down along with Racetrack's underwear. Race wanted to defend himself but he just couldn't move. Spot had finished pulling his own pants down and was now grabbing Racetrack's hips pulling him toward him. He was about to push in when Racetrack finally snapped out of it.
I'll have to kick your ass and make you never forget
With a fury he hadn't realized he had, he reached out and shoved Spot so hard he fell off the bed. Racetrack jumped off of the bed grabbing his clothes and putting them on. Spot still sat on the floor completely mortified that Racetrack had just fought back. Racetrack had never fought back. EVER. No matter how often Spot beat him, no matter what Spot ever said to him, Racetrack had never even so much as thought of fighting back.
Spot stood up dusting himself off. He turned his head just in time for Racetrack to punch him right in the face. Spot reeled back a moment before recovering. With an angered growl he threw himself at Racetrack but Race dodged him. Spot tumble and nearly fell over but Racetrack grabbed his neck from behind.
"I'se had enough wit ya shit Spot. I'se tired o' bein' ya's punching bag." He slammed Spot's head into the wall. Hard. He let go of Spot long enough to pop his knuckles getting ready for the next attack that Spot would try to deal.
Spot stumbled a bit shaking his head. His hair had fallen into his face and he could feel the blood trickling down his forehead. He snarled in fury and went after Racetrack again just like he'd predicted he would. Racetrack was ready and when Spot got close enough he flung his arm out knocking Spot down again. He immediately knelt next to Spot, grabbing his hair roughly and slammed his face into the floor. And he did it again. And again. And again until when he pulled Spot up to look at him, Spot's whole face was covered with blood. He slung Spot back against the wall and shoved his foot into his stomach. Spot would have doubled over but Racetrack wouldn't let him. he grabbed Spot by the neck and pinned him to the wall.
I'm gonna ask you to stop, thought I liked you a lot, but I'm really upset
"I'se fuckin' had it wit ya. Ya know. I'se really thought dat I'se liked ya. But ya know? I'se really don' think I'se do. Ya jus used me Spot. All I'se was to ya was someone ta push around. But dat ain't gonna happen no more. Alright? I'se had enough!"
Spot cringed as Racetrack drew his hand back to hit him again. Within moments Spot was back on the floor and Racetrack was kicking him.
Get out of my head get off of my bed yeah thats what I said
"I'se want ya out of my head. Always day afta day I'se thinkin' bout ya. How much I'se I'se loved ya. How I'se wish ya felt da same. How I'se wish ya would stop hoitin' me. But I'se don' want ya's in my head no more. I'se want you out. All da time when I'se see ya watching me ya'd look at me like you owned me. Like I'se was just some piece o' property. But I'se ain't Spot. I'se not."
Spot tried to crawl away but Racetrack grabbed him again. He punched him. kicked him. anything to hurt Spot like he'd been hurt.
"Payback's is hell bitch!" he gripped Spot's hand in his and started squeezing. Spot's eyes widened in fear. His face twisted in pain as Racetrack squeezed tighter. And that only made Racetrack smirk more. Drove him on. Knowing how much Spot depended on his hands. Knowing how many times Spot had used those same hands to beat him senseless and knowing he would be the one to cripple him made him more determined to render Spot's hands useless. Finally with a sickening crack, a gasp from Spot and the satisfaction that he'd just broken Spot's hand, Racetrack let go. He grabbed Spot's other hand and did the same thing. Spot finally let himself cry out in pain. He dropped to the ground and Racetrack let him fall. He stood back. Lips pulled back in a menacing snarl.
Did I not tell you that I'm not like that girl, the one who, throws it all away
"If ya eva mess wit me again. I'll break ya so hard. If ya think dis is bad. Jus try to mess wit me again. I'se dare ya." Spot groaned from his position on the floor. His whole body hurt. But mostly his hands. Racetrack had actually broken both of his hands. "I'se ain't ya play thing Spot. I'se not like those goils ya's been wit. I'se don' know if ya's been wit any udda guys but if so I'se ain't like dem neida. I'se don' just throw myself away so you'se can have some fun."
Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you, this time?
Did you think that it was somethin I was gonna do and cry?
Don't try to tell me what to do
,Dont try to tell me what to say,
You're better off that way
Racetrack left the Brooklyn Lodging house. This time he never came back. For good. Something had awoken within him. A new him that wasn't going to let people like Spot Conlon walk all over him anymore. He'd had enough. He was strong now. And no one would take that away from him.
This guilt trip that you put me on won't, mess me up I've done no wrong
Any thoughts of you and me have gone away
Less than a day later news had gotten out that Spot had been beaten up. And the little bitch had the nerve to cry out against him.
"It was Racetrack. We'd been going together for a few months now and today he tried to rape me! I kept telling him to stop but he wouldn't. When I tried to fight back he starting beating me."
Racetrack wanted so bad to go to Brooklyn and shut the little bastard up for good. How could he lie like that?
"Out." Jack stood in front of Racetrack, arms crossed and a look of loathing on his face. Everyone else in the lodging house stood behind him looking just as pissed. "I'se don' care what'cha hafta say. I'se don' wanna hear it. Out. ya's ain't staying heah no more. No one beats up my friends and gets away wit it. I'se resistin' da urge ta beat the shit out of you'se cause I'se pretty fucking pissed. But I'se don' want my hands doity. But jus know." He nodded to everyone behind him. "I'se may bein' nice. But dat don' mean none o' da udda boys might rough ya up later. So I'se suggests yous'e run as far as you can. Cause once you'se outta heah, I ain't holdin' 'em back. If they go afta ya's…oh well. I'se ain't gonna stop 'em. " Racetrack was furious. They were actually siding with Spot?
Racetrack launched into a long winded, angry tirade of what really happened. Afterwards Jack watched him for a while. He fidgeted under Jack's cruel gaze.
"I'se said I'se don' wanna hear ya shit Racetrack. Get da fuck outta my town. And don' eva come back. Ya hear me?" Racetrack's eyes flittered around the room. Hoping someone would speak up and say they believed him. No one did. He died in that moment. His friends that he'd known for years had taken up for that lying little son of a bitch. That good for nothing piece of shit.
"Fine!" he grabbed a bag from under his bed, and angrily started throwing his things into it. He heard Jack's ordering Mush to stay back.
"Not yet Mush. Once he gets outta heah if you'se wanna kill da bastard have at. But wait till he get's outta heah. I'se don' want der to be a body we hafta get rid of." Mush! Of all people. Mush. Who always had the sweetest and kindest disposition? If he would have placed a bet on who would have bean the first to try to attack him he would have bet on Blink. He was the one with the temper from hell. But not Mush. Never Mush.
Racetrack fought back tears as he walked out of the lodging house. Head held high. He knew he'd done nothing wrong. Maybe beating Spot up hadn't been the brightest idea. But he deserved it. There was nothing he could do now. He'd tried to reason with his friends. But they were far too stubborn. All he could do was leave and never look back.
Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you, this time?
Did you think that it was somethin I was gonna do and cry?
Don't try to tell me what to do,
Dont try to tell me what to say,
You're better off that way
No one went after Racetrack. Kloppman wouldn't let them. As upset as he was he knew that killing Racetrack wasn't the answer. He told the boys to act more mature. That Racetrack was gone and couldn't hurt any of them now and to leave it at that.
Spot kept up his little hurt act. He rather liked the attention of the other boys. But he did miss having Racetrack around to beat up on. Oh well. Maybe he could get one of the other little pansy Manhattan boys to be with him. And then he'd have someone new to beat the hell out of. Maybe he'd try Mush. He was pretty soft.
Two days later on the top headline of the World News.
Suicide On Brooklyn Bride! Boy Found Hung!
A boy was found yesterday on the Brooklyn Bridge. His body was hung over the side in an apparent suicide. A note was found in his pocket It read:
I loved him. I never wanted to hurt him. But he hurt me. So I had to stop him before it got out of hand. I tried to tell you guys. You were my friends and I wanted you to believe me. But you didn't. When you kicked me out I knew that since I had no place to go I would probably go crawling back to him and I couldn't stand to go back. I hate him. I knew the only true way to escape was to let go. And the only way to let go was to end it. I'm sorry I couldn't have been stronger. To have been brave enough to end our relationship before I let him hurt me to the point where I lost it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
-Thomas "Racetrack" Higgins
Continued on page 3b.
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That day no one wanted to sell the paper. The moment they say the headline they handed it back to the clerk and turned away.
"I'se can't believe he did dat." Jack sat against the statue of Horace Greenly. The others sat around him. All sharing the same hurt expressions. "We'se shoulda believed 'im. We'se all knows Racetrack. He wouldn't have been da type to hoit somebody witout reason. We'se shoulda listened. Spot was da one at fault. Dat bastard has been lying dis whole damn time. It's cause o' 'im Race killed himself. We'se shoulds listened." David pulled him against his chest as he began to cry. Once Jack started crying, there was not one dry eye in the crowd.
Across the bridge, in the Brooklyn Lodging house sat one boy on his bed. Tears streaming down his face. He hadn't meant for it to go that far. Never meant for him to die. He should have been better. He could remember when he'd been little his parents having to get him a psychiatrist for his mood swings. He'd been dubbed bipolar. Prone to sudden changes in emotions. But of course there was no medicine for it at the time. He should have warned Racetrack. Told him of his condition. He should have known better than to let the person he loved most get involved with him knowing he could hurt him. But no. He was selfish and now it had cost him. Oh well. He didn't deserve him anyway. He was better off alone.
Better off that way
I'm better off alone anyway