Chapter Eleven: To the Naked Eye

Teddy

March 20

I pulled the wreck of a car that I was driving nowadays, instead of my beloved BMW, into the hotel parking lot with the cracked and weathered asphalt. When I put the car in park, I sat perfectly still, the motor still running. My brain was still reeling from having almost been spotted by Stacey's great protector, Logan Bruno. I knew that when it came down to blows for Stacey (and it certainly would), he would be the one I would have to go up against.

My hands were trembling, but I couldn't tear them from the wheel. Bruno was much bigger than I was and I wasn't that small, either. He was tall and strong and one of those guys who everyone calls All-American and who makes the bad guys nervous because he's so powerfully built. However, I wasn't the bad guy. I was just an ordinary guy who wanted to be with the love of my life; here he stands in the middle, practically in a red cape of justice to "rescue" Stacey from me.

It was no wonder that Stacey was in love with him.

I couldn't stand it that she had fallen in love, with Bruno of all people. She wasn't supposed to do that; it wasn't a part of the plan. She was supposed to stay pure from any other man's love and I knew that she wasn't. What we had was special and now she had thrown a monkey wrench into everything by bringing another man into the picture. It was as though she was cheating on me. At least, that's what it felt like.

However, instead of being angry, I was just sad. Sad to know that my beautiful girl wasn't completely mine anymore. That she was always going to have his taint on her, no matter what I did to try and remove the evidence of their love from her body and mind. Not that I would know the first place to begin.

Finally, I was able to let go of the wheel and turn the key in the ignition so that the car rattled into silence. Still, though, I couldn't make myself get out of the car. What if Bruno had followed me here? What if he had seen me and was waiting for me to leave my car in order to pummel the shit out of me?

I climbed out of my car and shut and locked the door behind me. It was a show. I didn't care if someone stole that piece of junk, but the man who everyone saw driving it certainly did. I could just purchase another car, but he could not. It was a strange thing, trying to lead a double life. Mostly, though, I found that I allowed the other man out and about more often than I let myself use this body. It was simpler.

Once I was safely locked in my hotel room, I sat down on the plushy armchair near the window. I had to think; I had to clear my head a little. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to clear it out fully and ease my conscience, but a little relief would be nice at a rough time like this.

I pulled a green barrette from my pocket and fingered it absent-mindedly. It had belonged to one of the girls that I had hurt. Correction: one of the girls that I had allowed the Beast part of me violently and brutally rape. I swallowed. I was steadily loosing more and more control to that darker side of me just as I was allowing myself to be swallowed up by the persona of a man who didn't exist.

To say I felt no remorse would be wrong. I certainly felt remorse and guilt for what I had done, especially to Stacey's friend, who had only been trying to protect her. I had a brief flashback to what that rape was like, the touch of her skin, the look of fear in her eyes, the scent of her. Each girl I remembered vividly and each girl I offered an apology up to God, if He was even listening to me anymore. After all the things that I had done, it wouldn't surprise me if God had written me off, just like everybody else.

Four rapes, though. I frowned and closed my eyes. Four rapes made me a serial rapist, didn't it? It made me into a monster to be steered clear of. I was a monster; everyone was right.

But, God, how did I become this? All I ever wanted was to be with Stacey and to make her my wife. When did pursuing a young lady turning into jail time and four different counts of rape? How did I become this great monster? Was there something inside of me that flipped on like a switch to make me give in to that darkness? Or, was it simply that I was born wicked and evil?

I opened my eyes and stood up. I had to get out of the room for a few minutes. The walls were closing in and I felt like the darkness was bubbling up again. Maybe a quick trip and a few minutes stay at the vending machine would help to put the darkness to rest again. I didn't think I could bear to hurt yet another girl and have to move to yet another hotel. I liked this place.

I left the room resolute not to think about anything unpleasant as I walked down to the vending machine.

I'm fifteen and this is my first time ever with a girl. I had originally thought that I would have a bigger say in the who I first slept with, who I would always sleep with, but this first time wasn't really mine to begin with. It was my grandfather's. This was his way of making me a man.

He took me to a very well-reputed whorehouse.

The girl that I was to have sex with (he kept referring to it as fucking, but I didn't like the notion of emotionlessly fucking a girl) was named Samantha. No last names were required; in fact, they were frowned upon in a place like this. Samantha's long hair was golden blonde and fell to the middle of her back in a mixture of waves, spirals, and curls. Her bright brown eyes were soft and reassuring when she first saw me. She smiled knowingly when it was explained to her that I was to be made into a man now and led me into a room full of red and purple silk, crushed velvet, suede, and cashmere.

11

"Mama, Mama!" I called out to the woman sunbathing on our wrap around porch. We were in the backyard. She was near the pool and would dive in every so often to cool off before turning over and sunning her other side. I ran over to her, holding the massively long worm that I had just dug up.

"What is it, Theodore?" she asked as I came running up to her. I dropped the worm onto her stomach and it was a scream that I had never heard before in my whole four years of life on this Earth.

My mother jumped to her feet and flung the worm away from her. Then, without warning, she slapped me as hard as she could across the face. My face snapped to the right and I staggered a couple of steps before falling and beginning to wail. My mother only looked down coldly at me.

"When are you going to grow up?" she demanded and returned to her sunbathing.

It was actually a rather nicer motel than the past two I had stayed in. The two twin beds (it was either this or a king sized bed and I just didn't want a huge bed for some reason) were neatly made up and with clean looking blue and green patterned comforters on top. There was a small refrigerator in the corner and a plump armchair near the window, which overlooked thick woods and a tiny pond. I smiled. I could definitely be happy in this place.

I walked back out into the hallway and collected my things (which had been whittled down to a suitcase and a packed up messenger bag). I set them down in the room and set to unpacking. I moved fast enough that even if I had to get away fast, I could still scoop out everything that I had unpacked back into the suitcase and bag.

Halfway through unpacking, I found that I was exhausted. I shut my eyes, completely meaning to rest for about two minutes before I finished and really got ready for bed. Of course, that's definitely not what happened.

11

It was the morning after I had been raped by the man I was to share my prison cell with. I straightened myself and my bunk up like I had been told to do and filed down to the mess hall like a good little boy. I held my head high, though I was secretly beyond humiliation. How many inmates had heard what had happened last night?

As I walked into the mess hall, I noticed that the noise dipped down a little. Eyes were turning towards me and about half of the owners of those eyes had knowing smirks on their faces. I swallowed roughly and waited in line with everyone else for my breakfast. I wanted to disappear into the floor, I wanted it to swallow me up, but I was permanently on display.

Finally, I sat down with my tray of oatmeal, fruit, and two miniature containers of cranberry juice. The man across the table from me smiled and I looked down at my food.

"So, I hear that you're already someone's bitch," he said with a leer. I looked up in horror.

"No," I protested weakly. "I'm not."

"Come on, princess," the man said. "When Devon Sands picks a bitch, that person stays his bitch until Sands breaks him in too hard so that he's no fun to play with anymore."

I could only stare. Last night must've been Sands breaking me in gently, but… Oh, God…

"I'm telling one of the guards," I murmured.

"That won't help. Next cellmate you get is going to pound that pretty little ass of yours until you can't walk straight."

The rest of the day was a blur. I had trouble focusing on anything, but I must've done everything right because I didn't get yelled at once. It was when I was locked back in my cell with Sands that I finally was able to see everything clearly. And, the first thing I saw was Sands standing in front of me, blocking the way to my bunk.

"Can I go lie down?" I asked democratically. Sands laughed.

"You'll have to get past me first."

I didn't think. I just swung my fist and connected squarely with Sands' jaw. He stumbled back before gaining his bearings and charging at me. I could barely let out a yelp when he slammed my body back against the bars of our cell. He pressed hard against me, making sure that I was quite breathless before moving away and letting me slump forward, clutching a bar to keep me upright.

Sands grabbed onto my throat then and dragged me over to his floor bunk and slammed me, facedown, onto it.

"You are causing me a lot of trouble, you little bastard," he murmured into my ear. I shivered. "It's about time I put you in your place."

Suddenly, there was some quiet, disturbing laughter from the cells on either side of us. God, they were going to hear everything he was going to do to me, weren't they?

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for humiliation and pain beyond anything I'd experienced before.

11

I jerked awake with a small cry. My forehead was wet with sweat and I could feel the rest of my body damp as well. Panting, I rested my hand over my heart, struggling to shove the memory of that particular rape from my mind. It had been the worst one; I had been sent to surgery to have internal injuries repaired and when I was returned to my cell, Sands had raped me again, only he had been as gentle as a lover with a virgin. It had been another humiliation that I needed to rid my mind of.

I sat up on the bed, my things sprawled out around me. I snatched the one thing that I refused to leave behind, no matter what, and retreated to the corner of the room. I slid down the wall, clutching the picture frame, and tried hard not to remember how painful it was to sit after Sands would rape me.

Stacey's beautiful face smiled at me from within the picture frame. I pressed a kiss to her frozen lips and felt the adrenaline in my system make my body start to shiver and shake. I pressed the picture to my chest and closed my eyes.

"Stacey," I murmured desperately. "Please, honey. You don't know how badly I need you, baby. Please come home to me. Please."