.x.x.
Chapter Three
.x.x.There was agony, and he was screaming.
All of those words... the glaring eyes... he was terrified. They were going to hurt him.
The moon above emitted down on him like a spiteful spotlight. His own blood gushed onto the ground. That heated whisper in his ear. "We'll kill you. I swear, we'll find you and kill you, faggot." He looked up to Dylan standing over his fallen form. He pleaded over the tall, shadowed body, "Please. . .Dylan. . ."
His blue eyes narrowed menacingly.
"You don't deserve to live."
He drew back a huge fist and socked him in the face; pain erupted in his system -
"Marco!"
He awoke, screaming at the top of his lungs. Marco gasped for breath as Paige's familiar blue eyes widened, "Whoa, hon... it's just me."
He looked at her, saying in a strangled voice, "Paige..."
She remarked, still looking at him as if he was going to scream again, "That must have been some dream you were having." Marco looked around. He was laying on a couch in the Michalchuk house. It was just a dream. Except, for the soreness of his body and memories from the previous night that flooded through his interrupted them. "We were waiting until you were awake to call the police-" Abruptly, Dylan appeared beside them. Instinctively, Marco flinched away as if he was going to be belted aside the head.
"I heard screaming-"
He saw Marco and his soft eyes grew confused then turned into a mixture of repressed anger and grief. His sister explained simply, "He had a nightmare." Dylan saw the moist film in the boy's eyes.
"Paige, why don't you go make some coffee?" She nodded leaving as he sat in front of Marco, seating on the coffee table. He asked after a moment of silence, "What did you dream about?"
"I don't. . ."
The blond's voice changed. It was compassionate, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Marco took in a shaky breath, not able to speak. His hands laid fidgeting on his knees and the older boy took his hands into his. Marco thought to himself. 'They are so warm.'
He closed his eyes, speaking finally, "I dreamed about the guys who beat me up. I felt everything, and I remembered something one of them said to me."
"What was that?"
His sight was obscured by tears, "We'll kill you. I swear, we'll find you and kill you, faggot."
"What else?"
Marco choked, "You were there, and you told me that I didn't deserve to live, and hit me. Then I woke up..." He broke down completely and Dylan didn't know what to say to him. It sounded like a horrifying dream. Those people beat him up because he was helpless, because he was different from them, because it was their version of a fun time.
Dylan had his share of situations where he was taunted, threatened, and even strike by his schoolmates and ex-best friends... but not like this. Where the incident was so horrendous, that it lived with him so long in such a violent form. Dylan had been able to push away the past, but Marco was young. Too young, in his opinion. He let out a breath and pulled a weeping Marco into an embrace, speaking soothing words.
