Chapter 40: Paranoia

Author's Note: Actually, from Chapter 36: Payback is a Bitch Part 1, it has just been me (Jewelle32) writing as we have decided to go our separate ways for the time being. This is because we both want different things from our story.

Me (Malami) am going to post when I get my life back on track and get into the fun of writing. This I will do as a sequel to Look but don't.
Most of the chapters are already written but as we have been writing this story over many years, we are rewriting each existing one more or less. That is why from this point on, I will post something similar but with changes. It's regrettable it has come to this but it's the only way to breathe some life back into this story for the time being - from Malami with love

Anyway, it's the Monday after and Daryl has to go back to school. That's if Daddy Dearest will let him and not keep him home for his own selfish reasons. Will Rogers notice anything wrong and do something?

The usual trigger warnings apply. Please leave a review if you can. Thanks so far to the readers who have done just that – you're spurring us on!

Daryl

I woke up reluctantly that Monday morning and got ready as if it was any other school day. Going through the normal motions when I couldn't have felt any less than. Especially when I checked myself in disbelief in the mirror much the same as I had after the first time:

Raped by my own shitty father.

Recalling how I'd counted the bruises all over my hips in the shape of his handprints in disbelief then with my face twisting into the same grimace of disgust and horror. They were thankfully fading but for how long? I could sense the bastard's impatience and that he was only making do with using my mouth and hand on him. Thinking how kind and generous he was, no doubt, for waiting to fuck me again.

Fuck him.

My eyes, undershadowed by black circles wore the same shell-shocked and haunted expression and it didn't escape me that I was looking thinner. On the verge of gauntness even.

This after only a couple of days?

My face and body were screaming (in my eyes) what had been done to me. How could my brother not see?

I'd thought I'd slip out without him noticing or God forbid – stopping me from going to school like he did just after Mike. No such luck. Drunk and sadistic as ever, he had his way with me before I could escape but at least that awful, uncharacteristic stench of him was gone. He'd gone back to being the fastidious bastard he had always been – new clothes, freshly shaven and smelling of Old Spice, drunk or sober. That was one small blessing.

'Stop ya snivellin'!' He'd scolded. 'At least I ain't fuckin' ya hot littl' ass but might change my mind if ya keep on. Ya stopped bleedin' yet?'

I hadn't but damn if I was going to answer him. His expression softened and he stroked my hair like he used to back when it used to comfort me but now I couldn't stand any kind of touch from him. 'Don't worry, ya'll get used to this and to that in time.'

I shuddered at the thought.

However, his gentle caresses soon turned to a hard, painful grip on my hair as he came with load cry. He didn't have to keep his noise down – Merle was already nowhere to be seen, bastard must have checked his empty bedroom just like I did.

Where was he? How long was he going to leave me alone with Dad this time? Although he'd already proved that he was no good deterrent to the pervert, the opposite in fact. Bastard seemed to get off on messing with me right in front of him.

I hated school with Eric already left for his family's vineyards in Italy – not that I would have told him about my father's new sick form of punishment. It had been hard enough to let him see my scars. I could barely admit it to myself so how could I tell anyone about it? On top of that, having to face Rogers who thankfully left me alone these days and besides, I now had worse problems than him; it was still better than staying at home with him. Surely he wasn't done punishing me today. Would he decide that tonight was the night that I was ready for Round 2? Maybe. The signs were all there – the smug, creepy smile he always wore since it happened like the cat who had got the cream without anyone noticing it was gone. I badly wanted to wipe that smug grin of his face permanently with my fists but that would have been suicide.

The recent habit I'd acquired of scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth until I spat blood had me running late today. But not a chance in hell would I go anywhere without doing that first and I cringed inside when I recalled where my mouth had just been. Yet the feel of him and the taste never seemed to go away no matter how hard I scrubbed my mouth out and I had to fight down the nausea rising in my sore, abused throat. Not least because of what I'd been forced to swallow. I retched and retched over the toilet as soon as he released me but nothing seemed to come out.

Fuck! I punched the side of toilet bowl in frustration.

The walk to school was a bitch and when I got there, I was painfully aware of other people staring at me, making me think that they all knew exactly how I'd been punished last Saturday.

It's like what he'd done to me, graduating from merely beating the shit out of me to the other thing he was doing sapped all my strength and will to live. Like I was in this long, dark tunnel with no light at the end of it and no way out. Ever. And nothing mattered or would ever again.

Like I'd never be happy ever again.

Or ever be able to look forward to anything.

Without feeling dirty and used.

The only emotion I felt then could only be described as paranoia – the feeling like everybody knows but this time it was a million times worse than when Mike did it because it was my own father and somehow that made it my fault.

Whenever any of the other students – particularly my classmates, merely glanced at me, I had déjà vu that they were giving me the same looks of either disgust or pity like they had with 'Uncle Mikey' and I didn't know which was worse. To me, it was like everybody knew. I heard that once you 'did it', people could tell. Even if you hadn't wanted it. Did it count that the first time wasn't with a girl but with a man - my own father to be exact? I even tried to kid myself that it was the ugly bruises yellowing on my face. But then everyone was used to seeing me looking battered, after all.

I gave some of them the finger while they drew back and raised their eyebrows in surprise at me or made a crazy gesture with their fingers. Before I ducked my head to deliberately avoid their eyes.

I felt numb as I fell into the familiar routine. Like I did at home when he was forcing me, imagining myself somewhere else. I must have zoned out through English and History because fuck knows if I could remember what we were supposed to have been reviewing for final exam preparation.

As much as I loathed school, no less now I that I knew that it was totally pointless, I couldn't help shuddering when I knew that the brief respite it gave me would soon be over. There was only about 3 weeks left ending in our school-leaving exams which I probably wouldn't even bother taking. The whole summer and my future with it stretched endlessly before me. I should have been happy but all I could see was darkness.

I knew Dad would never let me go now. He'd kill me first.

I shivered.

Eric – I miss you. I'm not sure that I want to kiss you again – not sure I feel that anymore for you or any other guy but I wish you were here. Just need a friend.

Really could fuckin' do with one right now.

Fuck it.

I wiped the pathetic moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes with my sleeve in front of my open locker before anyone saw and drew in a deep, shuddery breath. It was that other pervert Rogers' class next – double math on Mondays before lunch. More stupid, pointless exam revision. I got my algebra and general math textbooks out and slammed my locker shut harder than I meant to, drawing more looks and wondered if I could face him again as well.

It was nerve-wracking to say the least standing outside that particular classroom door, waiting for the students in there to come out. I don't know why when I'd thought I'd dealt with him – I guess I was worried that he would take one look at me and know. Start hassling me again. Either that or think I was easy prey now. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach and I found myself pacing along the corridor nervously, fully aware of how weird I looked. Too early, missing the 15-minute recess between lessons 2 and 3. Nobody but nerds or teacher's pets went to class this early.

I shook my head irritably, knowing if I didn't get over my fear of my teacher and what he wanted from me; after all, he'd barely spoken to me for weeks, I would be letting him and Dad win. There was less than a month until school's out for fuck's sake and then I'd be free of him (or so I thought). Still, even when the class in the grade just below me streamed out, loudly chatting with barely a glance my way, I still couldn't make my feet turn towards the door and walk in that classroom alone. I flinched a little when I heard his calm voice full of authority reminding them about their homework but by then of course, most of them had already bolted.

Stop being a little pussy! You're a Dixon! I strengthened my resolve, after all, I'd been through worse - a hell of a lot worse- lately. I also changed my mind then to not make the situation worse by leaving school with shitty or no grades even if it was going against family tradition and Merle did laugh at me. The exams were easy anyway and I would find the courage to tell me brother when he came home about Dad. The bastard would never touch me again and next time Merle left for a job or whatever, he'd take me with him and we would never come back.

Making plans for the future like this made me feel a little better.

The last students to leave closed the classroom door quietly with a curious glance at me. I waited and waited, nearly about to go in on my own but then the first few of my classmates started to arrive. I was even glad to see Shane and his brainless posse among them. He opened his mouth ready to hurl an insult but closed it suddenly. Even that fed my paranoia that he knew the disgusting things I had done with my dad. Andrea was on his arm and she smiled at me but otherwise didn't say anything.

I smiled back at her as I shoved him out of the way, deliberately knocking his shoulder on the other side away from her.

'Dixon, you'll pay for that.'

'Ooh, I'm so scared.' I shot back sarcastically over my shoulder. 'Remember me beatin' ya sorry ass down last time? Better shut ya mouth if you don't want more.'

To my satisfaction, he didn't reply and I didn't look back at them yet I could sense Andrea's distinct lack of admiration for me. I told myself it no longer mattered what she thought and it didn't. I'd heard that she'd got into a nice college in the next state along and Shane was going to stay here and become a cop like his father. I'd probably never see her again.

Rogers didn't have time to conceal his shock before he turned away from me as I reluctantly dragged myself in.

Did he know what my father did to me?

I'd been breathing deeply when I came in but now my breaths became short panicked ones when my eyes locked with his. I prayed no-one noticed. Especially that prick, Shane. I cursed Carl silently when I saw that familiar look of sympathy, he shot me before his face transformed into an encouraging smile. When everybody had arrived and sat down, he even pointed to the board.

'Ah, Dixon. Just the one to explain this complex formula to you guys in a way you can understand. What do ya say? Feel like helping ya classmates out?'

Just like nothing had happened. He seemed to have forgotten that I was ignoring him and he was supposed to be keeping his distance – our unsigned, unspoken agreement.

To say I felt like a deer caught in the headlights would be the understatement of the century as I mentally scrabbled for the right words. He knew I hated being the center of attention, why was he doing this to me? I stared at him, unable to come up with a good explanation for something that seemed so easy to me. His voice sounded muffled as if my head was under water. In a moment of panic, with the nervous giggles of the class following me, including Shane's crew's mocking guffaws, I dropped my bag and walked right out. I barely registered my teacher calling after me.

With nothing better to do, I went to the library, sitting at the back to avoid everyone. I tried to read the stupid math exam problems – distract myself but I couldn't focus. So, I sat there in silence instead. Two hours passed easily as I was lost in my own thoughts, I wasn't ready to be back at school.

With a sigh, I stepped out of the library and turned into a quiet corridor. Nobody was around, it was lunchtime of course. My heart nearly leapt out of my sore throat when I felt myself being grabbed from behind and being pulled back into one of the empty classrooms.

Rogers

It was the last lesson before lunch on a Friday near the end of the summer break and I was all hot and bothered in more than one way, if you know what I mean. The classroom was stuffy and the thought of quitting teaching for good had crossed my mind a lot lately. These days I was always on edge, half-expecting a visit from the cops and having my ass hauled away to jail on charges of molestation of a minor, especially after what had happened with Daryl. Because that's what society who were the majority, called the kind of beautiful, equal love that could blossom between a man and a boy. But I knew that it didn't apply to me, I'd never forced one of my boys to do anything or used my power as their teacher over them. I'd only helped them and shown them love which most of them weren't getting from their parents. In the end, after I'd seduced them, taking it as fast as they would allow, they were willing. My manhood nearly stood up to attention when I thought about trying again with Daryl. But first I had to make things right between us when I'd almost given up on him. It was clear that he was in deep trouble.

I had to take a risk and turn my back on the class to clean the blackboard when the memory of the last boy came back to me. Only a little younger than this one, bent over the desk during a 'detention' I gave him. But what a 'punishment'! I'd pulled his pants around his ankles and soon had him whimpering in excitement in front of me, blonde hair all mussed. Fair curls that I couldn't help running my hands through even as I thrust into him, shaking the desk and whispered sweet nothings and reassurances in between my moans of ecstasy, into his ear. Just turned 14, vulnerable little Thomas had been sweet, with a neglectful mother and a cold and demanding father – neither of whom who had noticed their son's struggle with his sexuality. He was afraid that he liked boys more than girls but I'd shown him what he liked, helped him to make up his mind. That was after he'd hesitantly confided in me everything with adorable shyness, of course and I'd comforted him. He'd let me put my arm around him and soothe him and things had progressed from there. There'd been no physical abuse like with the Dixon brothers but he was still just as vulnerable, if not more in some ways than the sweet youth behind me. I'd given him a chance to leave but yet he stayed and I felt my heart leap with joy because he was here willingly. With me!

Still, this boy was different, needed special handling, not least for the abuse he was enduring at home. Yet something had changed for the worse, had the beatings escalated into something inherently deeply more damaging and twisted? I shook that thought off in a hurry because there was no evidence of that. Yet all my instincts screamed that Daryl was not only being physically and emotionally abused. The suspicion made me feel sick as I couldn't understand what had made me lose control with him when I knew about his father's friend. How could I have gone too fast and got pushy with him. Now it looked like it was happening to him at home.

I'd been really worried at first when the boy, although clearly terrified, had advanced on me to face me down but then fled the room. Shown more guts than most. Luckily, it didn't seem like he'd had talked.

Years ago, I'd seen that him and Merle occasionally kept each other company as far as they could on the way to their various schools. Didn't take a genius to figure out despite their different appearances, they were brothers. Most mornings, Merle was babbling his little brother's ears off no doubt, but this was no doubt always met with a smile of adoration. The younger boy beaming with pride at just being allowed to walk next to his big brother who should have normally ditched him for friends of his own age.

When I saw Daryl's name on my class list, I was overjoyed at having a Dixon. Merle had always been unmanageable and not my type anyway. They had a fearsome local reputation and although the younger boy was too young for the extra-curricular activities I had in mind, I always kept a keen eye on him. I would dream about what it would be like to tame a fierce little Dixon like him and the attraction and anticipation for what he would grow into was there even then.

He'd been my 'special' little project forever.

Yet, I was forced to bide my time and besides, I was no pervert, I wouldn't try anything on with a child even if I couldn't deny I was tempted to at times. Because it was simply wrong. In so many ways he resembled his older brother, but even so, there was still a much more intriguing difference between them that I couldn't put my finger on. Merle hadn't been dumb by any means, but he had given up too soon, gladly embracing what everyone expected him to be, and then some. Given into his violent urges and passions. That he had been a handful was an understatement to say the least but once or twice it seemed to me that I had got through to him enough to earn his grudging respect. Unfortunately, not enough to make him change his life around.

Didn't last, of course.

It became clear Daryl was the dangerous, quiet one of the two, riding on the waves of reputation made by his brother. He didn't need to raise his voice or his fists to scare off someone. Usually all it took was a sarcastic retort with his acid tongue. He already had one back then coupled with an incredible ability to say the right thing, or in the case of his enemies – the wrong thing. In most cases, zeroing in on the other person's weaknesses without fail. Rarely having to taking things further with his fists but anyway, when this happened, Daryl was almost always the one with the most endurance. Usually the one left standing over his fallen enemy. I knew – I'd stayed behind sometimes longer than I had to, just to watch him in the school-yard. I'd let them thrash out their differences literally when I should have pulled them off each other. Moreover, Daryl's fighting skills despite his relatively small size for his age, were all the more admirable for all that. Sadly, this probably had a lot to do with the regular savage physical punishments he received at home and being used to the pain. Over time, I found myself blown away when he proved that just being born a Dixon didn't mean you had to follow in the footsteps of your father and brother and strive for a life in jail. He was perfection – he had it all. His sharp intelligence and bad-boy look made me done for. Yet he was living a life of hell at home. I could easily see the vulnerability and hurt he hid underneath his cocksure veneer of toughness and hostility that he used to keep others at arms' length. However, his strength did nothing to take away from his charms but only complemented them instead

I waited longer than I had to until he was nearly 16. He was that now. Filed away but never forgotten. No boy seemed to be able to measure up to him now or ever since. Not even the ones who didn't need much persuading. But the challenging cases were far more exciting – both during the seduction process before they would melt into my arms and after because of the sheer pleasure they gave me. This was multiplied by my success because I had had to work all the harder to achieve it.

I had acted too soon before he was ready, approached him all wrong and scared him. Now he hated me but he needed my help badly and he was going to get it whether he wanted it or not. After all, I'd kept my distance just like he wanted. I felt really sorry for him even more so as I could clearly see a noticeable change in him. His entire body-language seemed different somehow. Cowed even, and jumpy.

More vulnerable, and it didn't take me long to see what was missing from him either. He'd lost his trademark Dixon aura of toughness. His eyes had nervously flitted in my direction in class numerous times already. The boy was no longer glaring, he was staring at me with fear unless I was imagining it. I would have welcomed his usual death stares rather than see him broken like this.

Only word that came to mind that best described what he radiated was that he was broken beyond repair. And it literally hurt to see Daryl like that. Strong boy as he was, something terrible must have happened. Probably something sexual too, of that, I was almost certain because nothing else could have broken him like this. I shuddered at the thought of the beautiful, poor boy being abused like that. By his father, no doubt. If that was the case, did his brother know about it? Was Merle doing something about it or at least protecting him? Or was he turning a blind eye because he couldn't deal with the truth like so many did in these situations?

Surely not. I knew they loved each other, besides the older Dixon had a sense of honor in him and wouldn't stand for his father hurting his little brother like that. However much of a crass asshole he pretended to be.

If it was true, that was.

Only question was how far it'd gone? Had he managed to get away? It was really no wonder he looked at me differently. I couldn't for the life of me think of another reason why he was acting so scared of me when he'd been anything but before. Had threatened me in fact. Why the sudden change now? I had stopped when he told me to and apologized, hadn't forced myself on him. I was no threat.

I eyed the boy discretely from the corner of my eye so that he wouldn't catch me at it.

Maybe he did. He briefly looked up at me, probably feeling me staring at him. I didn't know if it was my own mind playing tricks on me or if it had been real. Just then I could swear on my mother's life Daryl's eyes pleaded with me to help him. To be a fucking man - to do something.

Daryl

I fought the rising panic at being grabbed like that from behind and being unable to see my attacker. My first thought was Dad had found me and got to me at school. Even there I wasn't safe.

What was he going to do to me?

'No, Dad! No! Don't!' I lost myself and struggled wildly, caught up in a flashback.

'Sh...It's OK, son. You're safe now, he's not here.' My abductor whispered into my ear and I could have kicked myself for letting so much slip about Dad. Knowing he'd pounce on that for sure.

As soon as the door shut behind us, I slapped his hands away in panic and stumbled back as far back against the opposite wall away from him, almost on the brink of becoming hysterical.

'Don't ya fuckin' touch me!'

'Nobody's going to touch you if you don't want, son.' My math teacher crooned at me. 'Nobody's going to do anything to you if you don't want it. Just want to talk, that's all.' Yet he made no move towards him.

'Yeah?' I glared at him. Was he serious? 'Jus' talk? Remember what ya tried to do last time?' I hissed, looking towards the door.

He closed his eyes momentarily. 'Yes, and I already said sorry for that. I promise you that it will never, ever happen again.'

'Yeah, just like it didn't happen now?' But I did feel a less panicky. 'You grabbed me and pulled me in here - alone -with you!' My voice rose in anger.

His eyes narrowed and he glanced towards the door. Pervert was probably worried about potential eavesdroppers.

'I don't know what you're talking about, Dixon.' He said deliberately loudly while he motioned with his fingers on his lips for me to keep my voice down.

Fuck him if he thought I was going to stay quiet for him!

He spoke before I could come back with a snarky reply.

'Easy, Daryl, didn't mean to scare you. Just want to talk to you is all and there was no other way to do it after you ran out. See - I've been worried sick about you.'

I didn't need pity – least from the likes of him. 'Well, you don't need to and I don't want to talk to you! So, let me go!'

I ran for the door but he wouldn't get out of my way. I backed off as soon I realised that there was no getting around him. Didn't want to give him an excuse to touch me either.

'Daryl, what's the matter? Why did you run out in class? Is it because of something your father did?'

'Ain't none of ya goddamn business! Don't come any closer!'

'I won't, not if you don't want me to. But tell me, son. What's really going on at home? Is he hittin' ya again or…or…?

My heart seemed to stop still in my chest. Was he implying what I thought he was?

'Or what?' I sneered back at him to hide my mortification that perhaps he knew. 'Don't pretend ya give a shit about me. I know what ya really want!'

'Of course, I care about you, thought that I made that clear last time. And all I want is the best for you. For you to be safe Just answer my question: Is your father hurting you again? I can see the bruises and cuts on your face. Then, I'll let you go.'

'Ain't tellin' ya shit!'

He sighed and appeared to give up. Even considerately got out of the way but it still wasn't far enough! I glared at him and he moved to the other side of the classroom.

'Promise me at least that you'll stay and do your exams. You're a bright boy …Don't let him take your future away from you as well…'.

I left without replying. Who was he to me, anyway?