Warning: Please, please, don't read this if reading about childhood sexual abuse is too hard for you, for whatever reason. Especially if you have your own experiences. This can be hard. This goes into detail about what happens when a predator "grooms" his victim. It may be very hard to take.
Author's note: I'm sorry that this took so long. Like I said, I had a lot more written, but I had skipped this part, so I finally had to write it now.
This was really hard for me. I know that it may not seem to flow well, but I had to write it in spurts.
I'm not sure that I'm doing the right thing.
Back in the Hole
Chapter 3
How it Began
Gritting his teeth, Ryan managed to avoid passing out from the pain, and he sighed in relief as the worst of it eased. Grateful that he had managed to shove the memories deeper into his brain, Ryan knew that he had to decide upon a plan of action. The biggest question was whether or not to go to the hospital for his chin (and possibly the annoying kidney). However, Ryan realized that this could not be decided right here and now; he needed to be out of sight, so he could plan in peace. He had to think, by himself, before he decided on the next step. He figured that the best place to do this was the beach. Because it was so late, there would likely be no one around, and he could remain inconspicuous in the dark, if someone did happen to show up. Luckily, the Crab Shack was right near the beach, so he wouldn't have far to go. Unfortunately, this first part of his plan meant that he had to get up.
Sighing, Ryan decided to just suck it up and stand, regardless of the hurt, like tearing off a band-aid. Taking in as deep a breath as his broken ribs would allow, he closed his eyes and pulled himself up, sliding against the wall as he went. Hissing, yet determined to remain quiet, Ryan stood still for a few minutes, breathing through the pain. When he could finally open his eyes again, he slowly headed for the beach. Walking wasn't all that difficult. It was the twisting and bending that were the worst; his ribs really complained when he asked them to perform these jobs. He was winded by the time he reached the beach, also a consequence of the broken ribs.
As Ryan moved toward the water, the salty sea air began to fill his lungs, and he felt mildly refreshed. Chino had always been so grimy and dirty, and the air here in Newport just tasted so pure. As a boy, Ryan had only visited the beach twice, but it had left a lasting mark on the boy's soul. Somehow, the beach had just calmed him, and he felt whole. When things were at their worst, Ryan had often imagined himself on a deserted island, with no anger, violence, drugs, or unwelcome hands, surrounded by the sea air, the sunshine, and the birds.
When he could walk no further, Ryan sat down in the damp sand, not caring about keeping his clothes clean. He had other, more important things to worry about. Carefully, Ryan inhaled as much sea air as he could, closing his eyes and giving in to the sensations around him. The cool night air had always helped to calm him, and it did not fail him now. Ryan could already sense himself relaxing a little. Keeping his eyes closed, he focused on the sound of the waves, gently washing up onto the sand. He loved hearing the distant rumble, and he could almost imagine that he was out in the middle of it, alone, untroubled, and free. After a few moments, he laid back into the sand, wincing slightly at the pain in his ribs. He convinced himself to ignore the nagging pains in his lower back and ribs for now, instead focusing on the calming effects of the sea. He was glad that the beach was usually abandoned at this time of night; any intruders would really have pissed him off, messing up his relaxation time.
Grimly Ryan chuckled to himself. Relaxation, he thought disgustedly. Only you could actually consider being relaxed right now, even though you know what is going to happen in the next few weeks. It's all going to start again, and you're going to lose everything. AGAIN!!!!!!! FUCK YOU A.J.!!!!! Well, so much for relaxation. Ryan realized that he had to decide on his next step now.
A.J.
Sitting in the shadows, far enough away so that they couldn't hear each other, A.J. watched Ryan. He had left when the kid still had his eyes closed outside of the Crab Shack, and he had stayed to watch the boy's next move. A.J. figured that the little shit wouldn't be stupid enough to get help from anyone in that fancy, overpriced restaurant, but he had to stay and make sure. When Ryan had begun to move to the beach, A.J.'s smug satisfaction had grown. This kid was so easy! He always did what he was told! A.J. couldn't believe his luck. When he'd first gotten involved with Dawn, he'd tried to make her ditch her kids, but he soon realized that this one could actually be worth something.
A.J. had begun Ryan's training after the first week. It started with a lot of prolonged eye contact. While he was a tough ten year-old, the kid was still a little boy, and A.J. could see that Ryan was very nervous around him. He used this to the fullest advantage, invading the boy's personal space and staring deeply into his eyes, until Ryan would look away, surrendering. Of course, A.J. made sure that Ryan would never know what A.J. would do next. Sometimes, he'd just stare intently, others he would slowly move closer and closer to Ryan, never breaking eye contact. He often moved in close enough so that their bodies were almost touching, but sometimes he didn't. It was important to keep the kid off guard. There were random punches and slaps, interspersed with serious beatings, and A.J. knew that he was getting to the kid. His eyes had begun to take on a hollow look, and Ryan had stopped eating so much. He got pale, and he often stayed away from home. By the time A.J. had lived with them for about two months, he was ready to move to the next step.
Ryan
Unwillingly, Ryan had begun remembering A.J.'s entrance into their lives. He had been suspicious of the creep from the beginning, but his mom had--of course--not cared to hear anything that her sons had to say. Ryan never felt right when A.J. would stare at him so fixedly. The ten year-old could sense an ulterior motive, but he had not yet had enough experience to know what this motive was. All Ryan knew was that A.J. was always just really close. He seemed to like intimidating Ryan by standing almost against him, and when Ryan backed away, he sometimes beat him for it. Ryan was never sure what was happening, but he eventually learned to just be still when A.J. was around. He found that A.J. was less likely to beat him if he just did what A.J. wanted. He just never realized that he was trapping himself.
After A.J. had been living with them for almost two months, A.J. had begun something new. Previously, whenever they were standing in close proximity, they had never actually touched (unless A.J. was beating him). One day, A.J. raised his hand as if to strike, and Ryan closed his eyes, waiting for the worst. Instead of a blow, Ryan felt an almost gentle caress on his face. He looked up to see A.J. smirking, and then A.J. walked away. Shocked, Ryan stood still for a second, and then he broke from his trance and ran for his room. He made sure not to slam the door, because that always pissed A.J. off, and he slid his dresser in front of the door. Not that the dresser could actually do any good, but it made Ryan feel a little safer, nonetheless. He ran into his favorite hiding place, in the closet. He knew that a closet was not really a hiding place, but at least it was dark and small, and he could think. He couldn't stop wondering about what had just happened. Ryan had been sure that A.J. was going to hit him, but he had…touched him instead. Ryan felt really uncomfortable. Something didn't feel right. But what was so wrong? A.J. had only touched his face. All the teachers at school said not to let someone touch you in your "bathing suit areas," but they never said anything about your face. Your face wasn't a bathing suit area, so it couldn't be wrong. Could it?
Not knowing what to do, Ryan just stayed in the closet and waited for Trey to come home. Maybe Trey could help. Probably not, but Ryan would still try, anyway. Knowing that Trey wouldn't come home for awhile, he decided to let himself drift off to sleep.
Ryan woke with a start when he heard movement in his bedroom. Stiffening, Ryan began to breathe shallowly, hoping that the person would not hear him. Ryan stifled a scream when the closet door opened, but it was only Trey.
"Hey. A.J. give you trouble?" Trey asked, as he tossed himself down on their bed.
"How'd you know?" asked Ryan, as he came out of the closet, rubbing his eyes.
Trey, eyes closed, arm over his face, head on his pillow, lazily raised his other arm and pointed at the dresser in front of the door.
Oh, yeah, thought Ryan. He knew that Trey never used the front door anymore, preferring to avoid A.J. and their mom by entering and exiting through the boys' window. This is why Ryan had felt no hesitation in blocking their door.
Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his feet. He could still feel A.J.'s hand on his cheek, and he rubbed hard at it, hoping to erase the lasting impression. Shakily, he cleared his throat, and whispered his brother's name.
"Trey?"
"What?"
Suddenly, Ryan had no idea what to say. How could he ask Trey about something so stupid? If Ryan didn't even know what had truly happened, then how could he expect Trey to help him?
Trey raised his head a little, removing his arm and looking at his little brother through half-opened eyes. He was really tired, and he just wanted to sleep, but Ry had sounded so pathetic. He was really a good little kid, and he didn't deserve the shit that their mom and her string of boyfriends always dished out, but there was only so much that Trey could do. He was just a kid, too, so he was having enough trouble taking care of himself. He knew that he needed to help tonight, if he could.
"What's up, buddy?" he asked kindly, rising to a half-sitting position, resting on his elbows. Ryan really looked upset.
"Nothing," he replied dejectedly. "I just want to sleep and you were on my part of the bed."
Not believing his brother, Trey quietly moved over onto his half, still watching. Ryan quietly pulled off his shoes, lifted the covers, and climbed in, his back to Trey. Trey wanted to help, but what could he do? If Ryan wouldn't talk, he couldn't make him. NO one could. Ryan had always been tight-lipped, but he had almost stopped talking entirely when A.J. had moved in. Trey could understand why; the bastard had a vicious mean streak, and he always seemed to looking for a reason to scream and beat on one of them. He really seemed to enjoy it. Ryan's method of coping was silence, and Trey's was avoidance. Hell, whatever floats your boat, right?
Sighing, Trey also removed his shoes and climbed into the bed. He didn't need to turn off the light, since neither had bothered to turn it on. The light through the crack under the door might have drawn A.J.'s attention, and that was never a good thing. It had only taken a few times before Ryan and Trey had silently decided that the light should just stay off.
Trey thought he heard Ryan sob, and he listened intently for a few minutes. When he heard nothing more, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
A.J.
Watching Ryan from some distance, A.J. continued to smirk at the fun he'd had with this boy. The first time he'd caressed the kid, A.J. had almost pissed his pants, he'd been laughing so hard. The kid was so confused, he couldn't even speak! It was great! Ryan had run off to his bedroom, and he didn't see the kid again for two days. When they did finally meet again, A.J. had beaten him for spilling juice in the kitchen. He had to keep the kid unsure of himself. His plan called for a wait between touches, to make sure the kid thought it was just a fluke, or that he'd misunderstood. After several months of this touch-and-go, back-and-forth, the kid would find himself trapped.
Ryan
Ryan had certainly found himself trapped.
A.J.'s touches had moved from just his face, but they were never what the boy thought would be considered inappropriate. Sometimes, A.J.'s hand would brush his thigh as they passed in the hall, or his hand would lightly drag across Ryan's lower back, after a beating. Ryan became more and more confused. This touching still didn't seem to qualify as "bad touching," like they had talked about in school, but it really made Ryan feel uncomfortable. He had begun to feel uncomfortable in his skin. He started wearing layers and long sleeves, trying to minimize skin contact with anyone. He no longer felt that he had control over his own body. Then A.J. had begun to move his quick, light touches to the boy's butt. Still, Ryan was never sure if it was an accident or on purpose, but he didn't know what to do. What was he going to say? "My mom's boyfriend accidentally brushed my hip as we passed each other in the narrow hallway"? No one would take that seriously. It had to be nothing. Right?
Then he'd touched Ryan's crotch. Again, it seemed accidental, but this snapped Ryan out of his confusion.
By the time he'd really realized that A.J. was crossing some boundaries, it was too late to do anything. He'd let A.J. go too far too many times, and now no one would believe him. A.J. had a hold on Ryan, and Ryan couldn't get out.
A.J.
A.J. loved torturing the kid. He wasn't a pedophile; sex with kids didn't turn him on. He just liked messing with the little shit, freaking him out. For A.J., it wasn't about sex or arousal; it was all about control. Control and power.
Not that he had a problem with pedophiles. He knew plenty, and they never caused him any trouble. He was doing this because he knew that he could make some good money off this kid, and have a good time while he did it. Sitting on the beach, A.J. knew that he would own this kid forever.
Ryan
The crash of a wave brought Ryan back to the present. He didn't know why, but he had drifted into his memories again. Damn it! I've got things to decide right now! I can't wallow in self-pity. Besides, it's all my fault anyway. Ryan shook his head, remembering the gash in his chin which needed stitching, and the job that he had to do for A.J. He couldn't tell the Cohens what A.J. wanted. They would probably try to help, and they couldn't, so they would just get hurt. Snorting, Ryan realized that A.J. hadn't even bothered to threaten the Cohens. He knew that Ryan would never involve innocent people in this.
Suddenly, Ryan had a worse thought. What if the Cohens didn't try to help? What if they really believed that I was going to steal their stuff and leave? It wasn't that far-fetched. I had gotten busted for stealing a car, after all. Ryan didn't really think that they'd believe he could take their stuff, but he still didn't want them to think badly of him. Ryan had no idea how to get A.J. off his back without alerting the Cohens or complying with A.J.'s demands, but he knew one thing, right now.
He had to get to the hospital. If it had just been the ribs, Ryan wouldn't have considered the hospital. He knew that there was really nothing they could do for him, unless a rib had punctured a lung, and he knew that this was not the case. He was still breathing all right. Sure, it was a little tough to get a breath, but he actually could get a breath, and this is impossible with a punctured lung. Ryan knew. He'd been through it twice before.
The ribs weren't all, though. His chin was pretty bad, and his kidney was still yelling at him. Sighing, Ryan gently pulled himself up, and began the walk to the payphone. He would call Seth. He'd say he'd been attacked and mugged (Hell, it was the truth, anyway), and Seth would bring him to the hospital. He knew he'd have to deal with Sandy and Kirsten's questions, but he would take care of that later. For now, he needed help.
A.J.
A.J. watched Ryan walk back towards the Crab Shack. When he saw Ryan head away from his bike, and towards the phone, his anger began to rise. That little shit was going to call someone!? He KNEW better than that!
A.J. began to head after Ryan, determined to remind the little asshole what happened when he disobeyed A.J., but he slowed as he neared the phone. Ryan hadn't heard him coming, and he was still talking.
"Seth, please," he pleaded tiredly. "Just come get me. We'll tell your parents later….I was mugged Seth!…Outside the Crab Shack; I already told you!…Fine….Fine!…Yeah, I know, your parents will come too." Dejectedly, Ryan hung up the phone, sighed, and sat himself down on the curb to wait.
Good, thought A.J. The kid had stuck to the old routine. He slunk back to his truck, and waited until the kid's new family had picked him up. He had Ryan right where he wanted him.
Ryan
While Ryan waited for the Cohens, he felt an old, familiar blanket of depression settle itself into his mind. It was no use. Nothing will turn out right. I'm an Atwood, and Atwoods all suffer. Time to give up. I thought I had escaped, but I'm drifting right back in.
Back in the hole.