DESTROYED Chapter 4
SUMMARY: Angel disappears and a brutal crime happens. Julia is forced to leave New York. Collins is left with more guilt. Mark sets out to make things at least okay between them okay… but unfortunately, not before it's too late.
Warning, this chapter has violence and implied rape and assault, nothing graphic, but it may not be suitable for some readers. Just warning you. This is the chapter where we begin to learn a bit about Collins' past… and what it means for Angel's future.
With Angel, it may seem like he isn't in character, but you'll see why… there is a reason for everything in this story… it'll become clear in later chapters.
(A/N: Yes, I know you can't study actual arts at MIT… but she did simply not want to give away too much about her self, realizing the position she would be in. Just allow for poetic license – I'm Australian, I don't know too much about American colleges - I'm sorry I was vague on that detail, but just for the sake of the story let's just let it slide. Hope that clears it up! Thanks for reviewing!)
Angel sat against the wall, rhythmically beating hisdrum to create a somewhat lively beat… it wasn't for money, but right now all he needed – all he wanted – was a distraction. He had lost all self control when he saw Collins again, and once more that old wound had been torn open and he was bleeding any last remnants of love for that man. Who the hell does he think he is? His mind tried to reason with his heart. Did he expect me to just break down and fling myself in his arms! Angel moved his arms at a quicker pace, effectively enhancing the beat of the drumming and tried to drown out anymore thoughts of what happened – he thought he was getting quite better from where he was at three months ago, and now this happened!
He sat in Central Park… it was now past 1 AM but he didn't care… this was when all the pimps and their hookers, druggies or whatever came out to 'play'. Other drag queens also were out and about doing their nightly routine by creating a lot of noise, wanting people to know they were there.
Angel blinked away more tears, not relenting in the nice rhythm he had going, and just thinking about what he was gonna do next – he couldn't go back. Collins would be at the loft, he wasn't stupid. The rest of the group were devastated when he had packed up and moved the Massachusetts, and they were damn sure not going to let him go now, at least without sorting things out between the two ex lovers. Not that he blamed them, or their pitiful attempts, because he knew they cared about him and worried about his mental stability, but honestly their attempts were in vein. Nothing would change his mind now, but he couldn't help but smile at the images of Collins trying to be sincere… it was refreshing, as cruel as it sounds… but it let him know that there was love there from him once upon a time. And that Collins was having as much pain after all this as he was. It was a comfort.
The minutes ticked away, and the air grew colder… he found himself shivering and finally had to pause from what he was doing, and wrapped his arms around himself to preserve some heat.
"I hate him…" Angel whispered to him self, as if he was still trying to be convinced that he wasn't in love with Collins, that he hated him, and that he was better off without him. He looked around at his surroundings, but not feeling afraid… New York was his home and he knew the streets better than most life long New Yorkers.
Angel idly played with one of the drumsticks in his hand, just thinking. He couldn't go on denying that he still wanted Collins more than anything in the world – but what's love without trust? Trust without honor? Honor without compassion? He could no longer see these qualities in Collins, and it pained him to no end.
"I hate him…" those were the only words Angel could speak, although he wanted to scream from the rooftops about his betrayal, his anger, his pain… but would anyone hear him? Would anyone care? Would anyone even notice? Would Collins notice? Meeting that Julia girl at the club, he knew something was up but didn't know what – she wouldn't look at him, and when Mark said that she studies at MIT, Angel's heart began to race. It all made perfect sense now that all the facts had come to light, but it didn't make it any less difficult to swallow. His one chance at a future with someone beside him, no matter how long that future would last, was his only hope in the world – his one dream, one passion – and now it was gone. Angel's spirit finally broke when that jug of milk shattered into a million pieces days ago – he had hit rock bottom. It seemed that with all that broken glass and cold liquid that came into contact with his skin, had sent a powerful shock through his system, one which told him that his life wasn't about go back to normal. Nor would it be any easier to deal with… live with. And of course, there's no further to sink after hitting rock bottom but he had yet to find the motivation, the will to live, to pick himself up and start regaining who he was, step by step.
He started drumming again in his desperate attempts to drown away the sounds of his broken past, even if it was just for a little while, until his fingers were hurting and bleeding. Killing the pain for even a short time was better than nothing. As he continued to do his thing, footsteps slowly began to approach from behind, but he paid no heed to them. The footsteps grew closer and closer, until they came to a stop just behind Angel, who still paid no attention and continued to hum to the rhythm of the drum – his eyes were closed and had nothing on his mind except the beat.
After a few minutes of just standing there and watching the drag queen drum away, blissfully unaware of the impending danger coming from behind, the darkly dressed person reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife. It had been a long time coming, this person wasn't really sure that he wanted to do it, but he had lost a lot due to Angel… and now he was gonna get it back.
Silently, he stepped closer to the unaware Angel, and held the knife at his side, ready to do what he had wanted to do for so long now. The knife blade glistened under the street lamp next to the bench and the tip of it was recently sharpened in preparation for this moment…
But Angel continued playing and each beat on the drum became harsher and like a scene from a horror movie – each beat representing one more second lost, and one more second closer to something horrifically violent. But he still hadn't caught on to who was behind him. If he had, maybe things would've made sense.
The person stood just behind Angel, pondering his next move – his hand was shaking in a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, the thoughts of the regret he would have for possibly taking a human life not withstanding, he had to do this. It was the only way, in his mind, that he would be set free and would get everything he wanted… everything he felt he deserved. And there was only one thing he felt he wanted. One thing he felt he deserved.
Angel opened his eyes and breathed in the warm, yet crisp, New York air and smiled through his tears… as bad as things had become, he still held onto a thread of hope that that's how good things would become. As broken as he was, there was still a twinkle of hope that he held on to, and that was only because he had his friends around him. But then… Angel stopped when a shadow was cast over him, in the shape of a person, who stood between him and the light provided by the street light, creating a silhouette. Angel licked his dry lips and his pupils dilated as his body started to quiver… slowly, he turned looked up and almost fell off his seat when he recognized who was towering above him…
Before he had a chance to move, the person quickly moved first and with one of his muscular arms, he wrapped it around Angel's throat and held his hand clamped firmly over the drummer's mouth, and just as quickly brought the knife around to press it firmly against him. Angel began kicking and struggling – his screams and cries for help were muffled under the person's gloved hand and he was pulled up off the seat with what seemed like relative ease until Angel's feet was off the ground. Whoever this was, he was very strong, but he then place Angel on the ground with his arm still firmly around his throat and mouth, with the knife pressed against his skin.
"Scream and your blood with paint the sidewalk a pretty red colour," he hissed in Angel's ear."Get it?"
Not wanting to tempt fate anymore than he already had, Angel nodded quickly – trying not to panic. The man still held the knife at Angel's throat, and then threw him to the ground with enough force to effectively knock the wind out of him. Angel coughed and spluttered, gasping for air and gripping at the grass next to the sidewalk, and the man pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and walked over and knelt down on top of Angel in the near-deserted park. He straddled the terrified young man and shudder upon hearing the whimpers and cries coming from his victim… he didn't want things to turn out this way, but Angel pushed him to it. The man placed duct tape over his mouth to keep him quite while he moved sufficiently to turn Angel onto his stomach so that he could properly handcuff him, which he did, and then stood up. He then pulled the drag queen up by the handcuffs, very roughly, and Angel's muffled scream indicated that he had been dragged up with such force that pain was shooting through his arms and up his back. After making sure Angel was secure enough and wouldn't be able to get away, the man looked around nervously and saw that there still was no one around. Perfect. The man then took the knife out of his pocket again and pressed it to the same spot at Angel's throat and applied just enough pressure to assure Angel that he was serious – and that he would kill him.
"Now," he whispered. "I'm gonna take the duct tape off… and you won't scream. I don't have to tell you what'll happen if you do, right?"
Angel shook his head furiously. He understood perfectly.
"Good. Now… you won't look at anyone… talk to anyone… otherwise…" he made a mock gesture by pretending to cut Angel's throat with the knife. Angel nodded again, still whimpering, and the man then ripped the duct tape off his mouth. He then lowered the knife away from his throat and held it out of site, lifting Angel's top just enough so he could slip his hand under it, feeling his warm skin underneath, and held the knife there – concealing it from anyone's prying eyes.
"Good. Now, you're coming with me…"
THE NEXT DAY – AT THE LOFT
Julia and Collins at on the step just outside the building… what could be said for what went down the night before? Angel had run off, but it wasn't unusual for him to go off on his own and be gone all night, said Mark. So no one was really worried – except Collins, of course. Upon getting back to the loft that night, Mimi, Maureen and Julia had cleaned him up okay, and now he was just left with a killer headache. Despite Angel's petite, delicate size, he had one hell of a right hand… he left his ex with quite a nasty black eye, which served as a constant reminder, to Collins, of his own stupidity.
Now, everyone was inside and had left him and Julia to talk alone for the first time since everything went down. She was more confused than he was, and was extremely scared of this entire place. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to live here, in this… this… whatever it was… and actually enjoy life. I mean, to her, it wasn't possible. And now, she couldn't help but judge her professor by it – whether that was a good or bad thing, who knows, but all she knew was that she wouldn't be able to see him in the same light ever again. Things were just too weird. Too complicated.
Julia absentmindedly picked at her fingernails, too afraid to really say anything or to bring up last nights events. When he was ready to talk about it, he'd let her know – she was sure. And she was right.
"Man, I screwed up…" he commented, scratching the back of his head. He wasn't crying. He wasn't even depressed. He was just confused.
"So did I," Julia admitted, her eyes lowering. "I'm sorry, professor… I shouldn't have pushed you into it…"
"Forget it," he shook his head. "It had to happen sooner or later. I guess I'm just glad it's over… we can get back to Mass and Angel can finally move on or whatever it is he wants to do."
"So you're giving up?"
"What is there for me to do, Julia?" he snapped. "I mean… last night… you and Maureen… I was bleeding and you two conveniently forgot that I have AIDS. With Maureen, she's just reckless, but you…" he sighed. "This isn't a place for you, Julia… you shouldn't be exposed to this. I'm the one who should be sorry, I should never have—"
"If you didn't, you would've gone insane and you know it," she interrupted.
"Julia I could've infected you!"
"But you haven't!"
Collins closed his eyes and breathed deeply, not wanting to really go at it with her… but the risk was too great. He was foolish for believing that he could convince Angel of his love, and how sorry he really was.
"It's over," he said simply. "There's nothing more I can do anyway…"
"But you haven't even tried! You love him! Why would you give up--?"
"Because that's how it is, Julia!" he cried, frustrated with her lack of comprehension. "I fucked up and now I'm paying for it…" he paused. "And the worst thing is so is he!"
Collins stood up and gazed around at early morning New York, and feeling slightly nostalgic for this place where he had spent most of the best years of his life – which were, ironically, with Roger, Mark and the entire group. And then Angel entered his life, and suddenly everything seemed unreal, like a never ending dream. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys – after flicking through a few of them, he found the one he was looking for and detached it from the key ring and forced it into her hand.
"Go home, Julia. This is no place for you…"
Shocked, she glared up at him. "Wha… I'm not going anywhere!"
"You are going home… or I'm gonna call your parents. They'll come get you I'm sure…"
"I'm not a child!" she spat, getting to her feet.
"No…" he softly replied. "But I can't afford to have you here anymore… you have work to do. And like I said – this is no place for you. I can't force you to leave, Julia… but please, for me, do it. I still have some things I need to take care of." Without another word or even so much as a second glance, Collins turned his back to her and went back inside to the loft – leaving Julia alone, confused, on the step.
A few minutes later Collins entered the loft to see Maureen resting her head on Joanne's lap while laying stretched out on the couch, Mark was in the kitchen inspecting the contents of the fridge, Mimi was sitting with Roger as he continued to make some more adjustments to the new song he was working on. None of them really paid him any attention when he closed the door behind him, except for Mark, who frowned when he didn't see Julia with him – he wasn't sure if he was romantically interested in her, but she was definitely a curiosity. They both seemed to share the common qualities, including being generally outsiders to their own respective communities, and were very loyal to their friends, etc… in Julia's case, her commonality with Mark was their concern for Collins' welfare.
"Where's our friend?" he asked casually and the professor joined him in the kitchen.
"She's outside," Collins replied and sat at the table. "I gave her my car keys and told her to go home…"
"What!"
Collins jumped slightly and the intensity of Mark's reaction, not sure of whether to be scared or amused.
"Yeah…" he continued, slowly. "This isn't her scene, man. She's my student for fuck's sake – she shouldn't be exposed to this shit. You saw her last night, she was terrified! Honestly, it's for the best…"
"Collins, she's your friend… she risked a lot for you, hell she almost got jumped last night while waiting for you," Mark reasoned while trying to mask his personal disappointment that Collins would send her back to Massachusetts.
"I think you owe her a little more than a patronizing apology."
"Watch yourself, Cohen."
"Whatever."
Collins paused and studied Mark's body language carefully – he looked calm enough, and not at all jumpy like he was when he wanted to ask Maureen out for the first time. In fact, he seemed very stable. Did he like Julia? Neither man was sure, but there was something about her that Mark wanted to get to know better, at least. The front door opened again and Julia, who looked very tearful, entered and started towards Mark and Collins.
"Can I talk to you?"
5 MINUTES LATER – JUST OUTSIDE THE LOFT
"I want you to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid…" Julia instructed Mark while scribbling something down on a scrap piece of paper against the wall. He blinked in disbelief.
"You're actually going?"
"Yeah well," she shrugged. "He's right, I don't belong here. I'm just in the way—"
"You're not in the way!"
"—and to be honest, I'm terrified of this place…" she finished what she was writing and turned back to face him.
"Look, I haven't known you long, but Tom trusts you… I know you'll take care of him for as long as he needs… and besides, I have study to catch up on. I got an assignment due in on Monday and I'm not nearly done, so—"
"Wait, wait… you can't leave."
She raised an eye brow at him. "How come?" she folded her arms across her chest.
"Because…" he hesitated. "Because I just think he needs you. The man's fucking falling apart, I think he needs you…"
"Mark, I can't be here when he doesn't want me here… and again, he's right… this isn't any more I can do for him. This is between him and Angel, and really you know them together more than I do. It just makes sense this way," she flicked her hair from her face. "I've interfered enough."
And also, despite her reassurance to Collins, Julia really did wanna schedule a doctor's appointment, fearing that he may actually have infected her somehow. As bad as that sounds, at that time, that was thinking of a lot of people who still weren't too clear on how the virus was transmitted, including her. But she also knew that she had to respect Collins' wishes at the time, fearing that he was on the verge of snapping.
She smiled.
"Thanks for everything, Mark. Tom's lucky to have such a great friend," she leaned towards him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and turned to leave.
"Who knows," she added. "Maybe we'll see each other again soon." She then walked away and Mark, once again, had not the courage to catch up to her and stop her. All he could do was stand there and watch her as she turned the corner of the building out of his site. For some reason, he felt his heart fall… this wasn't fair.
"Everything okay?" Roger asked, cautiously. Everyone watched what he would do next, but he didn't say or do anything out of the ordinary. Instead, Mark just yawned and headed back into the kitchen to resume searching for a suitable snack… and they all just remained silent and then went back to what they were doing. It felt strange for all of them to be under the same roof again, minus Angel of course… but none were concerned by the fact that he still hadn't returned. Angel often went on his own all-night escapades to have fun and do his thing – something he went with a couple of them, but mostly he just went out and about on his own, giving him a chance to think and sort himself out.
"Yeah," Mark replied casually, and took a bottle of juice from bottom shelf of the fridge and slammed the door shut. He sat on the table and just drank from the bottle before handing it over to Collins who sat in the seat next to him, and he did the same. It didn't matter to Mark, since he knew that AIDS couldn't be transmitted through saliva, but he really didn't care either way.
"It's cool."
"Looks like someone had a crushed," Maureen teased, winking at Mark with that very same sparkle in her eyes that had caused him to fall in love with her to begin with… but he was so used to it now, that he found himself being immune to it. He rolled his eyes and mouthed 'fuck you' to her.
Collins looked around the loft – it hadn't changed at all since he left, and that was probably a good thing… if he had come back to see everything or even just some things different, it probably wouldn't have been as easy to talk to them again. During that night, as he was being patched up, he managed to connect with them again – especially Mark. They spent hours talking and comforting the distraught professor and all of them found out that Collins was still one of them – they still loved him, they still wanted him in their family. But it just wasn't that easy anymore.
"Guys…" he spoke up, breaking the silence. "Umm… in the last few months," he stuttered. "Is… is it usual for him to be out so long?"
There was a brief pause and everyone started glancing at each other to see who would be the one to answer. It was then that Roger looked at the clock on the wall, and then at Mark.
"How long has he been gone?"
"I dunno… its Angel, who knows what he's doing." Mark seemed genuinely unconcerned with Angel's whereabouts, but not in a bad way. Who knew what sort of mental state their friend was in, and what would happen they had to physically bring him back to the loft. Angel wouldn't want to be in the same place with Collins, not again, and so the only seemingly logical step to take was to get Collins out of the loft. But no one wanted to do that either; they didn't want to lose him again… because if they told him to go, he would probably go for good.
"He does usually call," Maureen pushed the issue, concern taking the place of mischief in her eyes. She sat up straight on the sofa and brushed her hair from her face.
Despite everything, Collins was worried enough to have to fight the temptation to go out and find him. Angel was known to be too carefree – even reckless – at times, whether it is for good reasons or bad, for better or for worse his spirit couldn't be denied its freedom and space. They all were reluctant to do anything, but with the emotional stress that even their once lively, carefree friend was in, plus the stress of the illness taking a stranglehold on his physical condition… no one had any answers.
"Guys, I'm worried."
"You only got worried when you realized he wasn't back," Collins snapped in a totally uncharacteristic fashion, and massaged his temples and could feel the slight pounding reverberating in his skull – a headache. With each pound it was getting worse, and there was no cure for the heartache he was feeling… his emotional distress only developed and gave way to reason for his physical pain, and vice versa. He stood up and rubbed his face with his hands and tried to massage the stress out of him and felt just, well… crap.
"I gotta go look for him," he stated and started towards the door while slipping his coat on. Mark caught up with him and almost leapt in front of the door, effectively blocking his path, and Collins glared menacingly at him – after all, he was generally bigger and physically tougher than Mark. If he had to force him aside, he would. But there was just too much that Collins had to do – he had to sort things out with Angel, even if it killed him. He couldn't let Angel go without first letting him know how he Collins felt – and the love he believed still existed between the two, and the reason he believed that was because… when he saw Angel's reaction to him last night, he just knew. Angel still loved him. It was a realization that had impacted him like a freight train, and it was more of a relief than anything to, to know that he wasn't just crazy in believing that something real still remained between them. Maybe a glimmer of hope wasn't too far away to imagine?
"Mark," he calmly, and in an eerily soft tone, spoke. "Move."
"Collins, no." Mark mimicked his tone. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"When I was here Angel never disappeared like this for so long without telling someone…"
"When you were here, Angel had no reason to disappear!" Mark challenged. Roger got to his feet and moved to a position where intervention was possible should things turn ugly. Mimi, Maureen, and Joanne also stood up when the tension started to escalate. "He's not the same person anymore…"
"Mark. I need to find him. This has gone too far."
"No thanks to you," Mark hissed, keeping his voice low so that he was out of earshot from the others. "You're the reason he's gone… he can't stand to be in the same fucking room with you."
"Guys…" Roger said, slowly moving towards them. "Come on, calm down…"
"Yeah, chill!" Maureen added.
But Mark and Collins remained focused on each other, and Collins shook his head. "You have no idea how hard this has been—"
"No idea? Fucking hell, Tom! We've all been there, you didn't just walk out on Angel - you walked out on all of us!" Mark yelled. "What did you think would happen when you came back?"
"Go to hell."
"Guys!" Roger wanted to break it up, but again he was ignored and his efforts were bearing no good result.
"And you think it was easy for me to walk away!" Collins yelled back, finding him self coming desperately close to just knocking Mark out. "You think I haven't tortured myself for what I did to him – to all of you?"
"I dunno, Collins. You tell me!"
Collins' eyes were enraged and had, now, a very dangerous gleam that, in truth, scared the hell out of all of them. He turned around and stormed over to the wall on the other side of the room, feeling like he wanted to just put his head through it… the pain would be less than what he was feeling now.
"You wanna know why!" he yelled at them all now, turning around to see all five of them with very… accusing… looks in their eyes. "You wanna know why I did what I did? Why I betrayed him? Why I fucking left?"
No one answered, not because they were afraid of enraging him further – none of them feared Collins – but because they really did want to hear his explanation. Everything about him had changed, not to the point that he was unrecognizable, but it was obvious that he had put himself through hell in the past months. And all of them had the same general feeling – he deserved it.
From the closeness that all eight of them had been, once upon a time (including Benny), to what was going now, you wouldn't recognize them emotionally. But they were still the same, just… different… as much as that doesn't make sense, that's the only explanation. Mimi idly twisted her long, dark hair around her index finger and didn't want to get involved… her mindset used to be so in touch with that of Angel's; you would think they were related if you didn't know any better. Both carefree. Both unrestrained in letting their spirits fly and spark life into everyone they knew or came in contact with. Their love of being the centre of attention. The purity of their innocence only magnified further by their youth.
She stood behind Roger, and like them all, just watched for Collins' next move. He paced back and forth, rubbing his hands together in a sort of nervous, high-strung way and his body language exposed his thought process and what he was going through – total, 100 confusion.
"Collins," Mimi spoke up. "It's cool, babe, you don't gotta explain—"
"Yeah he does," Roger finally let go of the façade, and just decided that he wanted to know the truth. "He needs to explain. Fuck all this pretentious bull shit and just spit it out, Collins. You owe us that much."
"I owe you nothing," Collins replied. "I owe him everything. I lost my job, I couldn't tell Angel—"
"Why?" Maureen asked.
"Because I was a fuckin' coward, that's why! We'd lose the apartment, I'd have to leave New York anyway, and—"
"And?" came Mark's incredulous interruption. "What the hell do you mean that you'd have to leave New York anyway? You gotta be kidding…"
"Well I couldn't get work anywhere else except NYU, at least not here!" Collins finished. "I'd have to leave, and I couldn't leave him… I didn't know what to do, so I went to the club, got trashed, and was picked up by someone. Okay, I just… I can't explain it…" his voice became desperate and he struggled to find the words.
"It's just… momentarily forgetting about all that shit was exhilarating. As fucked up as it sounds, I just was drunk and wanted to forget… and the sex was something that helped me. Angel caught me and tossed me out on my ass. So I left. For him. So he wouldn't have to deal with me anymore." He finished by just slamming his fist into the wall, and not caring as the pain became a little too intense. He bit his lip and his eyes began to water. There it was. They had their explanation. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he choked back a sob and found his site was impaired – blurred by the collective wateriness that had overtaken his eyes.
"There's not a day that goes by when I don't hate myself for what I did… I love Angel, and I'll never stop loving him. And I hate myself for what I did, but what else can I do? What more can I put him and me through? That's why I gotta do this. NOW!" he walked towards Mark, who was still standing in front of the door. Seeing the look in Collins' eyes, he quickly stepped aside and finally let the older man leave… the door opened, and with a second, had slammed shut again, with the professor on the other side of it.
Everyone was stunned at the brooding darkness that had now clouded his personality – it was even a reminder of how Roger was, back in the days when he first met Mimi and was still having trouble moving on beyond the death of April. He was forever angry at himself for letting her get to the point of committing suicide. He had no one or no thing on his mind except her. His life was breaking down because of everything. And now, the same could be said for Collins.
Everything was silent with them now, and they were left to ponder his words… and no one thought to run after him. He was right… he and Angel needed their own space and say what they had to say to each other. Alone.
MEANWHILE – WITH ANGEL – 2 HOURS LATER
The world was spinning… the pain was reduced to numbness now and even a gentle tingling feeling slowly paced up and down his spine. He couldn't see anything but swirling colours of the mass contrasts that made up New York City – the sky, the buildings, the cement, the sunlight… his bright clothing…all of it was now one big mess and he could barely make out anything else. He couldn't smell anything. He couldn't taste anything but that of his own disease-ridden blood that mixed with his sweat and tears – all he could taste was his own pain and himself being drained of all life. Angel couldn't remember what happened… not clearly, at least… and he couldn't move, or breathe beyond shallowness, or focus on anything but the fact he couldn't move. A tear rolled down his blood-soaked face and all he did was just lay there.
"Fuck…" he muttered when he moved his head slightly and a headache exploded into all corners and crevasses of his brain and a ringing sound echoing in his ears. Angel didn't stand half a chance against the person who attacked him, and he could clearly remember who it was more than anything.
"Shit… God… Collins…" Angel couldn't help saying that last bit, as that was the only name he could remember that brought him so much happiness and comfort, all the pain and suffering that Collins had caused him not withstanding… he was still Angel's one and only love. If there was one face he could just see… it would be Collins.
Contrary to popular belief, when you're in a situation where you are faced with certain and very sudden death, for Angel, loved ones… friends… his life… none of that flashed before his eyes. Only two things. Death and the one person who would befall him with such a courtesy (after all the hell he had been put through). Samuel Michaels…
Angel yelped in pain when he inadvertedly kicked a garbage can that was next to him, and he realized that his leg was broken. Badly. It scared him because never before had he seen such gross outcome of violent – especially on himself.
FLASHBACK – THE PREVIOUS NIGHT
Samuel gently jabbed the tip of the knife into Angel's lower back and Angel tensed up upon feeling the seriousness of this guy. Yes, these two knew each other very well… Angel recognized him from the club where he had caught Collins cheating, but there were other times… a few weeks before that, Collins told him about someone who had recently walked back into his life and wouldn't leave him alone. An ex boyfriend, so to speak… and Samuel hadn't taken the break up well, which had happened only a few short weeks before Collins met Angel. It hadn't really been a real relationship… just a casual thing, you know… going out for drinks, sex afterwards or whatever… anything to kill the loneliness that both men were feeling. But Samuel had always been more resistant to letting go of Collins, than the other way around…
They had left the park and moved rather quickly down the street and remained unsuspicious to anyone who they came across – no one paid them any attention, but Angel could hear his own heart beating so loudly… it hurt…
But the rest of a journey had been a blur, and seemed to go too quickly that he could barely have time to take his next breath when Samuel pushed him into a nearby alley way, just off Avenue A… not too far from the loft itself. But he knew that should he call out, he would die – and yet, if he stayed quite and allowed him self to be subjected to whatever it was Samuel wanted to do to him, he would still probably die. So… either way, he was screwed, wasn't he?
Angel fell back against the wall – his makeup with smudged and his wig was messed up – His clothes were now dirty from being thrown on the cold, dirty park grounds.
"Samuel…" his whimpered, backing up furtherer against the cold, hard wall… his attacker stood menacingly in front of him, with his eyes glazed over and looked very… inhuman. But Samuel just grabbed Angel by his top, and dragged him furtherer down the narrow alley way, until they were completely out of sight from the main road.
What the hell was going on? Samuel had nothing to gain from hurting Angel… at least in Angel's mind. But despite the breakup happening several weeks before Angel and Collins' chance meeting, Samuel still blamed him for everything…
"Shut up…" Samuel growled and literally threw Angel to the ground again… he fell against the wall, landing on his right arm. Angel bit his lip as he grabbed at his shoulder, which had been, needless to say, dislocated and very painful… just what was up with Samuel? What was he going to do? The enraged man stood over the fallen angel and wrapped his hand; his fingers, around Angel's neck, and squeezed not to the point of cutting off circulation, but certainly to the point of pain and total discomfort. He brought the knife down and held it at Angel's chest.
"You fucked it all up…" Sam hissed, tears leaking from his eyes. Never before was he this violent, but in the past few weeks he had snapped. Being with Collins again had brought all the pain and anger back, and he knew his former lover was just back for a quick fuck and that was it…
"What?" Angel whimpered, but his confusion was met by Sam's fist connected with his nose – and his head slammed against the wall. Blood flowed freely from his nose and he started gasping for breath and his lips turned bright red as the blood dripped over his top lip and down onto his teeth, staining them a dark, dirty colour… the taste of his AIDS infected blood was disturbingly refreshing… even more so than water. A deep gash opened on his forehead, with the wound now turning is dark complexion in a mess of dirt, blood, and torn soft tissue…
Still gasping in pain and whimpering, Angel tried to back away further, holding his bloody hands in front of him to try stop Samuel from making a bigger mistake – one that could inevitably cost him his own life.
"Stop…" he groaned, but was silenced again when his own screams of pain took over… Samuel punched him in the stomach and sent him crashing into several garbage cans and old debris that cluttered the sides of the alley way. Angel laid in a tangle of broken glass, garbage, and barbed wire… his skin and insides were torn up and his movements visualized the struggle of a man fighting for his life with every last ounce of energy he could find. But his eyes still were wide, and his mind was unfortunately still open to register everything – every punch, every kick, every bit of blood that pilled… every bit of pain…
"Stop!" he managed to cough out. "ARRRGHHH!" again, Samuel paid no heed to Angel's warnings as he kicked the young man in his ribs, quite effectively breaking a couple as they both heard – and Angel felt – a couple of bones crunching.
"Oh God…" he cried, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, Samuel was becoming covered in the blood of an HIV + man… and he had no idea…
"Yeah," Sam whispered, evilly. "Pray, you sonofabitch! Pray to God! I've been doing that ever since you took him," he paused and punched Angel in the stomach, and the drag queen began spluttering blood – all over his attacker's hand which was still held a strong grasp around his throat.
Suddenly, Angel began to feel dizzy – as blood was blocking any little bit of air that was trying to get through, with Sam's hand still clamped around his throat, things were beginning to blacken for him. And you know what? For him at this point, death would've been a blessing… a saviour…
Angel's eyes widened as far as they could, and were now bloodshot from the tears and agony of being repeatedly punched. He could barely utter the words to try and warn his attacker of the danger he also faced.
"You don't… und…er… stand!" he cried, grabbing at Samuel's arm, but he was too strong and his powerful grip would not relent under mercy or anything else.
"No, I think I do," he replied, and put the knife on the ground beside him, while he reached into his back pocket for something that would make things easier – so he could do what he thought needed to be done, faster. The wound in Angel's head was now gushing and with every moment that it passed untreated, the more pain he faced… things were now grim and Angel shifted his body position side to side to try and wriggle out of Samuel's grasp, but to no avail.
Finding what he was looking for in his pocket, Samuel's attention was diverted for a brief moment, and Angel could see why… from his pocket, Sam had pulled a thin piece of rope that he was, as you would guess, planning to use to incapacitate Angel further… even though he was already handcuffed, Samuel intended to bind him further for some reason… Taking this opportunity, Angel's adrenaline took over from anything his brain was telling him not to do, and he brought his knee up and kneed Samuel in the groin. The larger man screamed and fell backwards, at the same time with Angel pushing him away – all in all, it was like pushing a giant boulder off your chest, that's how much heavier Samuel felt to the petite drummer.
Seizing the moment, and pushing through the pain, Angel rolled over and staggered to his feet – it was blurry, and tipsy… he couldn't see any distinct objects in front of him, but he didn't care if there was or not. Stumbling forward and not looking behind him, Angel continued forward and tried find out where the wall was, so he could try balance himself on the wall.
'Oh God,' his mind was screaming. 'God no… not now… I need him… he needs to know! I need him… I love him…'
But as soon as he felt himself gaining moment, a sudden force from behind him shoved him against the wall – Samuel had attacked him from behind and Angel screamed at the sudden shock of being thrown into a building. It was then that he felt his leg snap and he slid about halfway down the wall, when he felt Sam's fingers enclose around his neck once more and brought him back to a standing position.
As you could imagine, Sam stood there, with his knife at Angel's throat, enraged at what just happened, and now he was resisting every temptation to slice a carotid right there and then… but he brought his face to within inches of Angel's, breathing deeply… Angel looked at him, terrified…
Sam's fingers dug into his neck and he gritted his teeth, prepared for death to come now… violently.
"That was stupid, you little fucker!" he breathed. His face, his arms and hands, his torso… was all covered in Angel's blood that continued to, at a slower pace now, flow from the wound in his forehead and from his nose. A broken leg, a broken nose, a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs… none of that was compared to what was about to happen, and the attacker and victim stared at each other.
"Please!" Angel cried softly. "Fuck, listen to me! Stop!"
"Oh yeah?" Samuel whispered, sarcastically, and traced the knife blade across Angel's throat, and down his now exposed chest from when Sam had torn his shirt off during their struggle. "I don't think so… you took everything from me… and now I'll take everything from you…"
"I have nothing!"
"You have Collins!"
"No!" Angel cried, sobbing. His cries were met my resistance and mercilessness from his cruel tormenter, who was out seeking Angel's blood – and was getting it. A lot of it. Angel was now feeling light headed… being denied oxygen and losing a lot of blood would do that to you – but his once soft, delicate features were now gone under a mask of blood, dirt, sweat, tears, and pain… an unrecognizable face to someone who once spread the joys of love, friendship, and hope in the world. His spirit was now broken completely.
"No…" his regretful voice remained somewhat clear as he tried to explain. "We're… not together! I broke up with him months ago! He's not part of my life!"
Samuel hesitated a moment, but held his ground – he could feel the young man struggle in his grasp.
"But he still has you…" he whispered, and was now crying himself. "You still have his heart… he still loves you… and you still love him… and I love him! You took him from me, and then you throw him aside like he's nothing! I would treat him much better! With more love…"
"You can have him!" Angel scathed. The lingering taste of blood in his mouth told him to warn the man that he was covered in AIDS… but anger, and the pain, told him not to… so what if Samuel got infected? But then again… that's not the person Angel was, no matter who was hurting him… the blood covered his face and trickled down his neck – it was warm and grew cooler as it ran further down… a symbol of life itself leaving his body. The sweat mixed in with the blood, diluting the thickness of the fluid and it began to dry. Fresh blood started to flow across and cover the dry and settled blood… how much of it he had lost, he wasn't sure… but it was getting close.
But instead, anger spread across Sam's face once more, replacing the confusion and hurt, and he pushed Angel to the ground. Angel closed his eyes and the pain shot through his spine and he could feel several more bone crunch… everything was darkening and becoming numb.
'Collins…' the name ran through his mind on hyper speed, and his ex lover was all he could think of. He never denied that he still loved Collins… but he didn't want to – try as he might, he couldn't shake the love away… he couldn't kill the love, he couldn't even ignore it. It was in his every breath, and every tear…
He closed his eyes and tried to remember his friends, or something that could take his mind off what happening. Acting on impulse, right there in the alley, Samuel got down and straddled the drag queen and leaned down so that his mouth was right next to Angel's ear… and he licked it, before whispering.
"I'll give you a taste," his creepily calm voice whispered, barely audible, "Oh what Tom and I once shared… and what you took away…"
His heart almost exploded at his realization of what Samuel was about to do… he could feel a hand slip under his skirt and his attacker began to gently finger the top of his leggings. Angel could still feel the knife against his throat, so he couldn't make another escape tempt no matter what…
"Don't…" he pleaded. "Please… please…"
But not attention was his words paid and Samuel's hand made its way down Angel's thigh… Collins' former boyfriend was quietly shocked at how warm and tender his Angel's skin was… and he began to massage his thigh with surprising tenderness and even care… but with Samuel straddling him, the weight was crushing his chest further, and each breath became a life and death struggle. Then, with one hand, Samuel pinned Angel's hand cuffed hands, his arms above his head, and the pain from his dislocated shoulder intensified further.
Angel gasped and continued to pray that it would all be over soon… Samuel began to kiss his neck and worked his way down to Angel's chest, and was forced to let go of his arms so that he could continue with what he was doing – but he continued to press the knife into Angel's skin, where his carotid artery was located, and a small but audible moan escaped his lips and he found himself becoming strangely excited by his forced actions on his victim.
Angel continued to remain still with his eyes closed and time itself, he thought, disappeared entirely. Einstein's theory of relativity never seemed truer than it did now – every night Angel spent with Collins, the time seemed to fly by… but now, it was still, so still that it seemed almost non existent. It was all relative. Then, all of a sudden, he felt Samuel's hand slid up his leg once more, to the elastic top of the leggings that Angel loved more than anything – and were now stained in blood, dirty, and grass stains… Samuel, like Collins, was a teacher – so, on his own power trip, he felt like he really did need to teach Angel a lesson.
The teacher of high school history now began to pull the leggings lower, exposing more skin underneath the skirt… his finger's danced and teased their way on Angel's skin, and he went back to kissing the very pretty drag queen… Angel was already half naked, due to his clothes being torn in the struggle, and that wasn't intentional – but for Samuel, he had already come this far, so why not go even further? But Angel's thoughts remained on Collins and the gang the whole time, his body quivering at every touch and kiss… each kiss made him feel more dirty and disgusted. It hurt him that Collins could have ever even wanted to be with this man, let alone have a relationship with him… but again, each kiss from Samuel, each stroke, each time he pushed himself further on the sick, cold, and injured man… it just made Angel want to feel Collins' arms around him even more.
Samuel pressed his hips further into Angel's, his sick excitement becoming more intense every second that passed… and Angel could feel it, the impending pain; the unwanted desire of a man who had now broke him, physically – but if he did what he was about to do, nothing else would matter anymore… not even the touch of Collins' skin against his own… no one would mean anything to him anymore, and death would be his only solace. If Samuel did this, and didn't kill him… Angel would most likely do the deed himself…
"Even if you don't enjoy it, Angel," Samuel whispered, hoarsely. "You will feel it… you will feel more for the rest of your fucked up life…"
'However long that would be', he thought and felt his leggings and his skirt pulled down to just below his knees, and he turned his head to the side, with his eyes closed – he had to avert himself from what was happening, as best as he could. Collins had always been the most gentle lover with him, and now, being on the verge of becoming another rape victim statistic, all his mind would allow him to see that would bring him any comfort… was the images of that night on Christmas Eve in 1988 when he first met the love that would always consume his life. And what was even sicker than what was physically happening to him at that moment, that it took something like this to realize just how much Angel was about to lose with letting Collins go – and just how deep his love for the man actually ran. Despite the betrayal, Angel saw honesty and love in Collins' eyes… love… a deep love that had never disappeared, and so much remorse – regret…
Samuel moved himself so that his legs were on either side of Angel's hips and he started kissing his naval… Angel's thin body shuddered at the touch, like a biological rejection of a force that was undeniably powerful and overbearing… he was fully exposed now, and out of the corner of his left eye, he peered up to see that Samuel had removed his own shirt and was in the process of unzipping his pants. That sight alone was enough for Angel to sob openly… the physical pain… the imminent emotional torture…
And then, at the touch of Samuel's skin on his own groin… darkness consumed him again and his body threatened to shut down for the duration of this unspeakable act.
"Stop!" Angel cried, but it was too late… Sam turned him onto his back and removed the final layers of their clothes… he leaned down again.
"You will feel it… for the rest of your life!"
1 HOUR LATER
Angel's body slammed up against the wall, completely stripped of his clothes, with exception for his skirt and the leggings which were now stained with Samuel, too, and it was an absolutely horrific sight to witness. His head hit the wall again with enough force that could possible fracture his skull… his sight was blinded by blood now and a new wound opened up at the back of his head.
Blood ran down his chest and bag, with Samuel still in the dark as to the disease that the thick, sticky red liquid contained. He pressed his body against Angel's broken one and held the knife at his throat.
Whimpering and crying, Angel could only stare into the evil eyes of the man who he was sure was about to take his life. Sam raised the knife above his head, and found the only motivation he had to do what he was about to – Collins. The image of that man was prominent in both their minds, but for the same reason… so, if he was gonna die now, Angel decided to do it on his terms. He coughed up some more blood, before gathering enough strength to speak what he thought would be his final words…
"He was right…" he hissed.
"Who?" Sam frowned, hesitating a moment.
"Collins… he was right…"
"About?"
"You are fucking insane… honey" Angel spat out at him, with a diva-touched attitude as best he could.
"Oh, you motherfu—" he prepared to kill him.
"And... you're right…" Angel continued, narrowing his eyes and spitting out some more blood that was in his mouth.
"I love him."
Then, everything went black.
END FLASHBACK
Angel had been stabbed twice – once in the stomach, and once in the thigh… broken ribs, stab wounds, broken nose, broken leg, broken arm and shoulder… he felt the life slipping from him, and he hadn't known how long he had been out. But Samuel was long gone before he had woken up, and now he was lying half naked in a pile of broken glass and other dangerous debris…
"Fuck…" he sobbed, unable to move that much. Under himself, in his back, slowly, he managed to pull out, after gritting his teeth through the pain, a piece of glass that had broken through his skin, and he tossed it aside. He wiped his eyes, and looked at the back of his hand. Blood, mixed with sweat and tears… and makeup. Great, he thought. God knows how long it took to apply the makeup…
"What's taking so long, huh?" he whispered aloud. "Am I supposed to die now? What's taking you so fucking long… or is it you want me fucked up long enough for me to repent or whatever?" Angel said, bitterly. He had believed in God once… but last night killed all that…
"Fuck you," he whispered. "I don't need you. I need him…" his eyes then closed and blackness once again consumed him. His body became limp and pale… the movement stopped.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please be kind for this chapter, I've never written a story with this type of content and my purpose was to show Angel's strength of character and the love that still exists between him and Collins. I did the best I could with this chapter, it was very difficult to write because I am a huge rent fan, and like many of you, I have my expectations and ideas for the characters beyond the play… so please be nice when reviewing. Thanks. Constructive criticism is welcome.
Next chapter: Angel's apparent lifeless body is discovered.
Roger and Mark talk
Collins goes on a rampage to find the one who attacked Angel.
Mimi and Angel have a sweet moment.