A/N: Oh my dear Merlin. I cannot believe. It has been TWELVE WHOLE MONTHS (practically) SINCE I LAST UPDATED! That's like, one year. Like 365 days. Almosy. ARGH! I'm such a bad mother! Not letting her children read Adam's third entry in his journal for so long! Well, to somehow appease my sense of guilt, this chapter is slightly longer than my usual ones (a whole 14 pages!), so you all dear readers/reviewers shall hopefully enjoy this!
WARNINGS: Now, for this chapter there are severe warnings. There is slash, obviously. There's bad language. There are people being forced to do things they don't want to do. There's violence. There are certain acts with/of a sexual nature. There is stuff that is rated PG-13 (or maybe it's R. I dunno, you tell me!). It is not good. It is twisted. It is something you should not read if you don't want to. Although, if you've come this far, I think you can probably handle it if you mentally prepare yourself. OK, it's not THAT bad ... well, it is. Err ... I dunno. Again, you tell me. It's my first time writing that kind of stuff. Anyway, just a warning. But don't be put off!
THANK YOUs:
anne918 – Yes, yes, Banksie is fit (as I think I've mentioned a few hundred times before), and Charlie is a clueless jerk. It's in his nature, you see ... ::sighs:: lol.
crazy4nc128 – 'Dumb fuck' ... I LOVE that expression! It's so cool! Glad you loved last chappie! Ooh, have you watched Cruel Intentions? Joshua Jackson (Charlie) is in it! I think he looks kinda cute there ... I mean, with his bleached blonde hair and his little nail file and his careless attitude (he plays a homosexual drug dealer) ... ::sighs wistfully:: if only we had gay drug dealers like that in reality lol. Only, without the drug-dealing part. Cos I don't do drugs. Much. Mwahaha, just kiddin'. : )
Banksiesbabe99 – Hey, didn't ur name use to be Nellie2? Lol. Like ur new one. It seems I've got quite a few people worrying about Adam ... I know, Vincent LaRusso is really fit! Hope you didn't get in too much trouble with your dad! I completely agree that in 'Fecal Matters', the guy who Vincent LaRusso kisses (don't get too excited, I meant on the forehead lol) is SO GODDAMN LUCKY! Grrrr ... oh, but I wouldn't eat shit for him. That's just ... icky, lol. Hope you enjoy this (somewhat evil) chapter!
Gothic Author – nods Hopefully Charlie will be tempted into becoming less of a dickhead after your silent treatment. Go you! : ) Oh, and as for Riley ... be my guest ... I'll provide the tools and nails and screwdrivers! ::smiles maniacally:: And I'm pretty sure that your dislike of Riley will increase just an iddle widdle bit after you've read this chapter ...
LB – Yes, in fact, I even find myself hoping that Julie will do more than kick Charlie's butt ... and yet I'm the author of this story. Damn, I'm sad. Anyhow, yes, I'm guessing that Adam is kind of ... err ... 'whipped' in this chapter. Well, not so much 'whipped' as a word I'm not gonna use in case it might spoil this chappie for you. Ah well. Enjoy!
kellyerielf – Yes, yes, Charlie is definitely starting to worry about Adam. Finally. ::mutters:: Dumb fuck. Trick-or-treating ... sigh ... to think you reviewed this story around Hallow'een, and it's almost Hallow'een again, thus meaning that I have not update for ONE FRICKIN' YEAR. God, I hate myself (I just hope you don't!). Enjoy this chappie!
DanishGirl – blushes Here you are telling me to update soon, and here I am almost twelve fucking months alterlater, updating. How embarrassing ... anyway, I hope you will forgive me and enjoy this chapter.
atlanta's apples – ::blushes heavily:: Awww, thank you so much for your praise! 'Awesome' fic? Yay! Go me! Ahem. Yeah, I SINCERELY apologise that I haven't updated for one month (sooo embarrassing), but, in my weak defence, I've been busy! Yeah. I mean, you know, going out, pulling girls, lol. And guys. Playing pass the ice cube, getting drunk, doing homework, revising for five fucking tests I have right after half term. Etc, etc. Yeah, I'm a naughty girl! Anyhow ... ah, Lego-angst. How my heart ... twitters with ... err ... I dunno ... with whatsit, I guess. I haven't actually read much of that, but I'm sure that it has some sort of connection with Adam-angst. And yes, it WILL be Adam/Charlie, so enjoy this chappie!
Behind The Walls
ENTRY THREE – Adam
Dear Journal,
Something happened last night.
Something after Eden Hall's game against the visitors, something after my practice with the Warriors.
It gives me a horrible feeling in the bottom of my stomach every time I think of it. I feel so dirty every time I think of ... what he made me do. I feel like throwing up every time I remember ...
It was about half twelve at night, and I was just getting ready for bed. I was only in my boxers since I had decided that it was too hot to sleep in a vest. I was just about to climb into my single bed, when there was a knock on my door.
I walked over to the door, wondering who could be wanting to see me at this hour.
It definitely wasn't Charlie, I knew that.
So I opened the door, and there was the person I wanted to see the LEAST. In fact, I would be happy if I NEVER had to see him again. Ever. In my entire life.
It was Riley.
"Hey Banksie, you weren't getting ready for bed, were you?" he asked me, grinning at my half-naked state. He himself was dressed only in a pair of boxers and a shirt.
I blushed and grabbed a polo shirt, trying to put it on quickly to avoid his prying eyes, but he grabbed my hands, discarding my polo shirt onto the floor, and let himself into my room, closing the door behind him.
It was dark, and moonlight was flooding into my room from the window.
"What do you want?" I asked, more bravely than I felt. I didn't want Riley's hands, lips, or any other part of him, anywhere near me.
"I thought that I gave you the answer to that yesterday, Banksie," he said, smiling in this eerie way.
And before I could say anything in reply to that comment, his hand went around the back of my neck, and he pulled me towards him, fixing his mouth onto mine, and thrusting his tongue down my throat.
The first time he kissed me he tasted of cigarettes and vinegar.
Now he just tasted of ashes.
Then he trailed one of his hands down my back, and started rubbing my ass, pulling me closer to him.
Using most of my strength, I shoved him away so roughly that he stumbled back slightly. He looked at me, dark eyes narrowing into slits.
"Didn't you like that, Banksie?" he asked, his voice strangely low.
I shook my head.
"Get out of my room, Riley," I told him quietly, although I was practically shaking in fear. What was it about me that he liked so much?
"This is just the beginning, Banksie," he said quietly.
I'll have to admit, this puzzled me slightly.
But he turned around, and walked out of my room.
I practically passed out in relief.
But just when I thought I was safe, in he came again. With two other members of Varsity. Cole, and someone else. Warring, I think his name was. Yeah, that's it. Nicholas Warring. He was almost as large as Cole, and had dark brown hair up in spikes. He didn't look like a guy to mess with.
My eyes went wide, and I heard Riley mutter, "Hold him back."
The next thing I knew, Cole and Warring had me pinned to the floor, face down.
"Look at me, Adam," Riley said in a coaxing voice.
I didn't move.
"Look at me!" he hissed, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me up.
I whimpered slightly as I looked into Riley's eyes.
They were usually dark, but this time ... they were almost black. He looked at my face intently, then licked his lips slightly. He let go of my hair suddenly, and I fell to the floor, bashing my chin against the ground. I winced slightly in pain.
"Now, what should I make him do, boys?" Riley asked Cole and Warring, who were holding me by the arms. They pulled me up to a standing position, and I saw them grin at each other.
"Get down on both knees, Banks," Riley commanded, his voice cold. "Get down on both knees, and suck me off."
I'm pretty sure that my eyes were as wide as saucers. I couldn't believe what he wanted me to do. Please let me wake up, please let this just be a nightmare, please, please, I remember thinking.
"I'm waiting, Banks," Riley said. Then he grinned. "Get down on both knees and blow me, like the slut you are."
I heard Warring chuckle at this.
I looked at Riley and (God knows what made me do it) spat in his face.
"You little bastard!" he hissed, backhanding me against my cheek.
Well, it was meant to be against my cheek, but I turned my head upwards slightly, so he only got the bottom of my jaw. I had quite a bit of practice with my father when it came to getting the shit beaten out of me. I find that if I get hit on the underside of my jaw, it tends to show up less, so there'll be less questions.
I opened my mouth, just to shout, 'Help!', but Cole slammed his hand against my mouth, so I couldn't talk. Since his hand was also covering my nose, I could also barely breathe.
"Oh no, Banksie. Don't even think of screaming," Riley said, looking threatening. "If you do, it'll be a whole lot worse for you. Understand?" he asked quietly.
Since Cole was practically suffocating me, I nodded quickly. He removed his hand.
"Banks? Didn't you have a job to do?" Riley asked me mockingly.
"Yeah. A 'blow' job?" Cole said, and then the three Varsity players laughed harshly.
But I wasn't going to do it. Not in a million years.
"I'm not your whore, Riley!" I snarled at him, which made me sound braver than I was feeling. And I was feeling terrified out of my wits.
His eyes narrowed, and this time he landed a crucifying punch to my stomach, winding me slightly. I groaned in pain, falling to my knees, Cole and Warring still holding my arms so I couldn't punch out. One of them also had a beefy leg over both my legs, so I couldn't go anywhere.
"That's more like it, Banksie. I see you finally know your place. Down on your knees before me," Riley smirked. I looked up at him and sneered slightly. I was NOT going to do what he wanted me to do. "Now blow me," he commanded.
"No," I said, looking him straight in the eye.
He sighed.
"When will you learn, Adam?" I shuddered slightly at the way he said my first name. "I am the one in control here," he said, his hands massaging my shoulders, fingers biting into the bruise he left earlier that day, from pushing me down onto my seat too hard, when I was clapping for the Eden Hall Warriors.
"You own shit!" I spat.
His eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Alright, that's it. Now, as much as I would hate to see your beautiful body all battered and broken, I'm afraid you asked for it. Sort him out, boys," he said, removing his hands from my shoulders.
And before I could say a thing, Cole rammed his fist into my gut. Again, and again and again.
All I could feel was this agonising pain in my stomach that wouldn't subside.
After Cole was done punching me in my stomach and chest, which made me feel like I couldn't breathe, Warring grabbed my left arm and started twisting it. Twisting it ... slowly, slowly ... painfully ... round ... I could hear this cracking which was probably my bones starting to break, and I whimpered, tears starting to run down my cheeks. It just hurt, it hurt so damn much!
"Stop!" I managed to utter out.
"Stop? You want me to tell them to stop?" Riley asked, a mocking smile on his face as he watched my arm practically being broken in front of him.
"Please," I am ashamed to say that I sounded pleading. But it felt like Warring was breaking my fucking arm! It just hurt so goddamn much!
Riley sighed.
"Stop," he said to Warring lazily. Warring obediently stopped twisting my arm. He let it go. It dropped down to my side limply.
"I don't think you'll be using that arm in hockey for a while, now, Banksie," Riley grinned at me. "Now. Where were we before you just asked to get the hell knocked out of you?" he paused, pretending to think deeply. "Ah, yes. You, sucking my cock," he said.
Cole and Warring laughed. Since I was struggling to get my breath back after all those crucifying punches, and with my almost-broken arm, and with my legs being pinned down by one of their legs, I was hardly going to get up and run out of the room.
But I still had no intention of doing what Riley wanted me to do. He did NOT own me. I wasn't going to do everything he asked me to. I was NOT his slave, and I most certainly wasn't his whore.
"Hurry up Banks, I don't have all night!" he snarled.
I was still on my knees, but I made no move to pull his boxers down, so he just decided to it himself. He pulled his boxers down and then before I knew what was happening, Warring or Cole had opened my mouth, and Riley just shoved himself into it.
"Suck me off now, Banks," Riley growled. "If you don't, I'll have Nick here," he nodded at Warring, "finish the job he started on your arm. And break your other arm, too, so you'll never be able to play hockey again! Now start sucking!"
My eyes widened for the millionth time that night as what was happening actually hit me. I was being forced to give a guy (that I had barely known for a week, may I add) head. If I didn't, I would get both my arms broken, and I wouldn't be able to play hockey anymore. That would mean I would have nothing to distract me about Charlie.
Charlie ...
My eyes teared up as I thought of him.
As much as I hate to admit that I did it ... I did what Riley wanted me to do.
"Oh yeah, suck it Banks," he moaned, his hands on my head, pulling me closer. I felt like gagging. But still ... I did it.
I sucked him off.
I had no idea what to do (after all, I'd never done this thing before – bloody hell, I'd only had my first kiss earlier that day!), but it seemed to be enough for him as he had his head thrown back and was moaning.
Tears started running down my cheeks again. Was this what my life had come to? I was in love with my ex-best friend, had been beaten up by two members of my hockey team, and was currently being forced to give my captain head.
Riley either didn't notice my tears, or didn't care.
I'm willing to bet on the latter.
He grunted suddenly, and came into my mouth. The second I felt the acidic taste on my tongue, I wanted to spit it out, but Riley held my head there until I had swallowed everything.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally pulled himself out of my mouth, and pulled his boxers up.
I barely resisted the urge to throw up right on the spot.
I didn't even feel Cole and Warring loosen their hold on me. I didn't feel them get up and move behind Riley. All I felt was sick.
Disgusting, dirty ... used.
Like a whore.
"Thanks for that, Banks," Riley said easily.
Tears were still dripping down my cheeks silently.
Riley knelt down so that he was face to face with me. He took something out of his pocket. Something that glistened in the moonlight ... a pocket knife.
I flinched as he put his hand on my shoulder, and held the knife to my throat.
"You tell anyone about our little 'bonding session', anyone at all ... and you're dead. Dead, understand me?" he hissed.
I nodded numbly, hardly even feeling the knife digging into my neck slightly.
Then he got his goons, and left my room. Smiling. Chattering happily away, as if he hadn't just done anything wrong.
The bastard.
The second the door of my room closed, I threw up all over the floor.
I was dirty. I was disgusting, dirty, and I didn't deserve Charlie. I didn't deserve ANYONE. I had just willingly sucked off Rick Riley – granted, he had threatened to break my arms so I would never play hockey again, but still. I had done it.
I looked at the clock on my bedside table.
It was quarter past two in the morning. They had been here for almost two hours.
As soon as I thought of what had happened again, I immediately felt the urge to throw up come back. So I just curled myself up into a ball, ignoring the pain in my stomach and chest, ignoring the numbness of my left arm, and tried to go to sleep, next to the sick on my floor.
I lay there for around two hours, feeling sick, feeling dirty, feeling used, feeling ... sorry for myself, I guess.
Then I closed my eyes.
The next time I opened them, it was six thirty in the morning, so at least I got SOME sleep.
I pulled myself up off the floor, ignored my aching bones and the numbness in my left arm, and grabbed some tissues and tried to clean up the mess on the floor that was my sick.
After I had disposed of it (only using my right arm, of course – I don't think I can ever hold a hockey stick in my left arm again), I stood, half-naked, in front of my full-length mirror.
As I looked closely at it, I saw that I was holding my left arm with my elbow jutting out to the side at a funny angle, making it look as though it HAD indeed been broken. I tried to move it back into a normal position, but the pain was so much that I gave up after two tries.
I had bags under my eyes, and my whole body was covered in bruises. My stomach had (what looked like) about five blue-black bruises, one on top of the other in a line. Souvenirs of Cole's fist. In the middle of my chest there was a large purple-green bruise, which hurt like hell when I traced the outline with my fingers. I had a cut on my neck, but it was near the underside of my jaw, so I doubted anyone would notice. And even if they did, they probably wouldn't care. I mean, who would? I'm a hockey player. Hockey players have accidents at their practices all the time. There were also a number of blue-purple bruises on my shoulders. Where I got them all, I didn't know. But I could probably guess that it was from last night.
Or, more specifically, early this morning.
All in all, I looked like shit.
As I thought about what happened again, I felt the sudden urge to brush my teeth. I mean, really. Just the memory of the taste of the-
I quickly rushed to the bathroom, put a lot of toothpaste on my toothbrush and brushed my teeth. I brushed and brushed and brushed. Brushed until my gums bled. But no matter how hard I brushed, I still couldn't get the horrible taste out of my mouth.
After I walked out of my bathroom, painfully (and very, VERY slowly) I got changed, trying not to accidentally touch any of my wounds. Just as I had finished getting changed, there was a knock on my door.
"Come in," I called out, my voice strangely raspy, so I tried to clear my throat, praying that the person outside my door wasn't Riley who was coming to have another 'bonding session' with me.
Thankfully, it was Scooter.
"Hey Banksie," he smiled cheerfully. His smile faded as he looked at my face. "Damn, man ... you look like shit," he said.
"I noticed," I said dryly.
"Didn't get enough sleep last night?" he asked me.
I shook my head.
"Well anyway, Riley," I flinched involuntarily at the name, but Scooter didn't notice, "said that we're all gonna take the Eden Hall hockey team to dinner tonight. It's gonna be at the Minnesota club, alright? And he says he'll give you a lift in his car. Oh yeah, and I also wanted to tell you that breakfast is almost finished," he said.
I thought of food.
Then I turned around, and threw up all over my bed.
As I looked back at Scooter, I saw his face was slightly creased with worry.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked me.
"No," I told him honestly.
"You wanna go to the nurse?"
I shook my head vigorously. I didn't need anyone seeing my bruises. That would mean questions. And I hate questions. Mostly because I can never answer them.
"You sure?"
I nodded.
"Alright then ... well, the team's going down to the cafeteria to let the JV know about the dinner. You wanna come?" he asked.
"In a minute," I told him, and then I made him wait outside my door for me.
I took in a deep breath through my nose and let it out from my mouth slowly. Then I just stood there for a few minutes, mentally preparing myself. I mean, how was I supposed to look at Riley again? After what I did ... what he made me do.
And how the hell was I ever supposed to look Charlie in the eye again, knowing that I'm in love with him and he'll never love me back, and also knowing that he'd be disgusted if I ever told him about what happened last night? I mean, the guy handle the fact that his ex- best friend is gay ... but could he handle the fact that his gay ex- best friend gave head to the team captain of Varsity, who he absolutely hates? No way.
I almost didn't go down to the cafeteria. I thought that maybe I'd just stay in my room the entire morning, just lying on my bed and trying to make myself disappear.
Then I remembered that Scooter was waiting for me outside my door.
'Oh well,' I thought, 'I'd better go face the music. I just won't be able to look anyone in the eye, that's all.'
So Scooter and I met the rest of the Varsity team in the hall, and went down to the cafeteria together. I'm assuming that most of them had had their breakfast already, and just wanted to see Riley invite the JV Eden Hall Warriors to dinner. I have no idea why, though.
I was somehow made to stand between Riley and Cole (whose shoulders were practically squishing me in between them), while Riley congratulated JV on yesterday's game. Although, if you ask me, there seemed to be a sort of mocking tone in his speech.
Anyway, I could hear Riley talking ... but I couldn't actually hear the words that he was saying. I mean, all I could do was stare at him and ... remember last night and ... and suddenly I had the urge to throw up all over again ...
The thing that really made me mad, though was how ... how ... CALM Riley looked. I mean, he didn't even look at me ONCE! He's probably just ... FORGOTTEN what happened. He probably does that to freshmen ALL the time.
Or maybe I'm the only one.
And the thing is, I don't know what's worse.
Anyway, Riley said something, and Charlie said, "Yeah we do," and for some weird, inexplicable reason ... I put my hand on his shoulder. I don't what possessed me to do such I thing. I think that I was trying to convince myself that despite everything that had happened last night, Charlie was still there. He was still a constant in my life. He always had been, and always would be. Whether he still talked to me or not, he would always be there.
But then – damn my luck – Riley shot a sharp glare my way that chilled me to the bone. I withdrew my hand quickly, but it was too late. He had seen it on Charlie's shoulder.
Him, Warring, and some of the others started making their way out of the cafeteria. Scooter and I stayed with Cole, who was spouting off some crap about tradition, which I didn't bother listening to.
Then he and Scooter started making their way to the door of the cafeteria, and I stayed behind for a bit, watching the uncertain looks on Ducks' – I mean the Warriors' – faces. I really wanted – and still want – them to come. I really do.
So I said, "It's cool," in the hope that it would convince them to come to the dinner. Because no matter what they've done (or what I'VE done, for that matter), I still miss them.
My words seemed to ease their anxiety a bit, and they started nodding and saying that they'd be there.
I turned around, and followed Scooter out of the cafeteria, when the weirdest thing happened.
Fulton had left the table that the Ducks – I mean the JV Warriors – were sitting at, and was heading right at us.
I assumed that I had accidentally done something to piss Charlie off (again), and Fulton was coming to beat me up for it (not that he's generally that kind of guy, it's just that him and Charlie have been hanging out quite a bit lately now that I'm no longer Charlie's best friend and Dean's in Chicago), so I wasn't too surprised when Fulton said, "Banks, I need to talk to you," and went up some stairs, clearly expecting me to follow.
"I'll see you later," I told Scooter, who had raised an eyebrow, but he nodded.
I followed Fulton up the stairs and into the men's loos.
Oh shit, I thought, I'm really in for it now, when he didn't say anything for ages and just stood there, looking at me.
Finally, he came right out with, "Are you alright, Banksie?"
I practically choked on some air right there and then.
"Wh-what?" I asked.
"Are you alright?" he repeated seriously.
"I ... I ..." Fuck no I'm not, just a few hours ago I got beaten almost into unconsciousness and was forced to give my loving captain head? I couldn't exactly say that, so I just settled for, "You don't hate me?"
Fulton looked puzzled.
"Why would I hate you?"
I shrugged, feeling kind of uncomfortable.
"It's just that ... you guys ... the Ducks ... well, none of you apart from Julie talk to me anymore. And I just ..." I trailed off. He nodded.
"I get you. But we don't hate you. Seriously. Charlie's just been shooting his mouth off about you sometimes, saying shit like you're a traitor and you betrayed us ..." he stopped, seeing the look on my face.
Charlie thinks I'm a traitor?
"But we don't think like that," Fulton added quickly. "At least, most of us don't."
I gave him a tight smile. So Charlie ... thinks I'm a traitor? I means, I guess I kind of knew it already, but I didn't expect it to sting so bad.
"Look, Banksie, we're worried, OK? You've seemed kinda quiet for the past few days. Are those pricks ... I mean, those jocks ... are they ... are they treating you OK?"
I blinked, and tried not to look worried. What Fulton was saying ... it sounded like ... sounded like ... like he knew.
But it was impossible for him to know.
Still, he was asking me if I was OK, and telling me that the Ducks are worried, so I guess that counts for something.
I tried to smile, but I fear it wasn't as bright as it was meant to be.
"Don't worry, Fult," I said. "I'm fine. The Warriors are OK. I'm just kinda tired, I mean, practises are taking a lot out of me at this school," I lied.
He nodded, not looking entirely convinced.
"Alright, Banksie. But ... if you ever, well ..." he paused, looking awkward. "If you ever need any help or anything, or, you know, want me and Russ to beat any of the Warriors up, you just ask, alright?"
I grinned and nodded. That was nice of him. But I still couldn't get over the fact that this was Fulton saying this to me.
He turned around to leave, but then looked at me and said, "And if you ever repeat to anyone what I've just said in here, you're dead, you get me?"
I grinned.
"No worries, Fulton. Your secret's safe with me."
He smiled and left me alone in the bathroom.
I stopped grinning, sighed, turned around and put both hands on either side of the sink, and looked into the mirror. I splashed my face with cold water a few times to try to get rid of those awful bags and to make me look not so goddamn tired, and then I went back to my dorm, took this journal out, and started writing.
I've got to leave in a bit, I'm going to the Minnesota club for the dinner Varsity are giving JV. I wonder how I'll get-
Oh fuck. I've just realised ... I'm getting a lift to the Minnesota club. In a car. In RILEY'S car.
I can't refuse, or else it'll look suspicious! I mean, I don't have my own car, and if I wanna take public transport or skate there, they'll think ... they'll think ... something, something not good, bad things, I dunno.
I'm going to get to the club in Riley's car.
I have one thing to say to that.
Shit.
Adam Leonarde Banks – the boy who's going to do everything he can to avoid Riley while being in the same car as him and being terrified out of his wits