Boys Will Be Boys
It is getting dark when we reach the small shack in the middle of no where. One of the ranger places. It's small and has a simple cot bed in the corner. The floor is compact earth and the window is covered with shutters. As the light is dimming Floyd moves around the place lighting up a hurricane lamp and some candles.
'Make yourself at home.' He tells me whilst indicating the cot. 'It'll get cold later, I'll see if there are any blankets.'
I have a strange feeling of an odd familiarity. Not the place as such. The situation. I walk to the bed and prod at it with my fingers. It is a wooden frame with a plastic covered canvas stretcheld over it. Probably fine to sleep on if you are used to it. Not so fine for me. It looks too short to start with. I look down at the floor and wonder if it will be more comfortable to sleep there. When look up I can see dark eyes peering at me.
'There is a problem?' he asks me and I tell him.
'It's too short.'
He smiles at me and drops a pile of blankets on the floor. 'It will be just right. You'll see.'
Floyd is watching me closely and I try to work out what he is probably thinking but his face is just set in that odd smirk of his and it's not until he talks that my stomach twists in a knot of panic or maybe confusion.
'You just snuggle up on the bed. I'll sit and…I'll just sit here.'
But I don't want to. Again memories from all the wrong places are creeping their way through my mind and getting muddled with others. I can see – in my mind – I can see me as a much younger person and Floyd looking more like Sam than himself. I can see him sitting on the floor with guns in his hands. Waving them around. 'Have we been here before?' I ask him. Though this memory of mine we are not here, but I cant explain it to myself any better.
'No babes. We've never been here before.'
He tells me as he moves to the back of the hut and sits on the floor with his kneels pulled in and his arms crossed resting on his knees.
'The situation feels familiar.' I say to him as I turn and lean over prodding the bed again with one hand and running my other hand over the blankets. I waited for a response but didn't seem to get one until I tried to stand up straight again and felt his hand on my back pushing me back down again. I don't know how he got there so fast without me even hearing him and it makes me jump and let out a strange little yelp
The words, 'On your knees.' Are hissed in my ear and with a small grin on my face I lower myself down and lean forwards slightly over the cot. 'Floyd,' I want to ask him something, but he cuts me off.
'Does this situation still feel familiar?' I can feel his hands pulling my shirt out and sliding his hands up my back. He must be on his knees behind me. 'Maybe you need a small reminder.' And one hand is snaking around to my "whore" belt buckle and he deftly un-does that and then the top button. His free hand is clawing at my back and my hands have pulled over a blanket and my fingers are digging into the rough woollen texture.
The sudden dragging on my lie from behind makes me yelp out in surprise. I can feel what he is doing. His other hand is behind me and I can hear the slithering sound of his belt being pulled undone and his fingers are twisting on the back of my tie harder and harder as he is now pushing me forwards and dragging at my pants. I move one of my hands and place it at the back of my neck on top of Floyd's which is twisting and pulling harder as he pushes forward and I move back and he is biting my hand and I can hear his heavy breaths as my airways are restricted. My fingers were twisting on the blanket but now my hand moves to the tie slowly tightening around my throat. In one way I want to tell him to stop, but, but I don't want him to. I need him to do this – to hurt me – so I can feel something other than this confusion. The greyness encroaching around the edges of my vision and now I have my eyes closed and my hands are at my sides and I squirm under the pressure, I see stars exploding in the darkness……
-o-o-o-
The squirming stops but I don't.
I know he wants this and so even though I don't think he is breathing Iwill finish what I am doing. Deal with the consequences afterwards. He has stopped responding to me and the gagging choking sounds have stopped now but I push hard against him to keep him in place and give the fabric of his tie one last twist as I get what I want from my little whore and back away.
He slumps sideways onto the floor and lies there looking broken and used. I stand for a while and just look at him while I do my belt up again and tuck my shirt back in. My long coat I've removed and now I roll up my shirt sleeves but he is still just lying there unmoving.
'Spence.' I prod him with my boot and he doesn't moan or move so I kneel down next to him and grab his bony shoulder and push him over onto his back. Somehow looking at his front makes me want him again. I want him so badly. I cant see the bites and abuse from the front, but I don't. I pull at the tie around his neck and loosen it and put my hand on his chest to feel if his heart is still beating. Erratic and too fast. I don't much want him to die. Not when I've only just got him back to where I need him, so I pull his clothing back into place and kneel astride him and put my mouth on his and talk to him. 'Breathe for me babes.' I tell him, but I don't think he can hear me. One hand on his heart to calm it down and another on his cheek. ' Come on Spence. One breath is all.' And I am finding this so exciting. I have flashing images of what I could do to him if his heart stops. I imagine using him for a few days and then slowly bit by bit tearing at his soft flesh and taking him in ways only I can do. I look and see how my fingers are digging into his chest through the fabric of his shirt and little dark marks are showing as my fingernails break his skin and the blood soaks into the dark grey. 'You need to breathe now.' I tell him. I need to rid my mind of the images and keep my whore alive. I need him. I need him more than I ever knew I would.
My hand makes hard contact with the side of his face and his eyes jump open with shock and he takes a long deep breathe into him lungs. 'Well done babes' I tell him, but he once again has that confused look on his face. His hands come up and for a split second I thought he was going to slap me back, but he just places his hands on the sides of my face.
'Thank you.'
His soft voice tells me, but I'm not sure what he is thanking me for but that's fine. He has given me permission to do this again. My fingers play gently with his tie.
'Anytime Spence.' I tell him .
-o-o-o-
Let me set the scene for you. We are on the outskirts of a small town and we are looking for a motel room. This place looks good. A couple of compact cars in the lot and nothing much else. The "Vacancy" sign is a guttering red neon and the rooms are in one long slightly curved block forming a staggered semi circle. I am letting Aaron take the lead. 'Get us a room' I told him and he looked at me and nodded and started to walk away. 'Don't try anything stupid.' I call after him. 'Remember why we are doing this!' And Aaron stops and turns to look at me.
He has on. A pair of blue jeans and a darker blue Tshirt. He has on over the top of that a slightly fitted dark coat. I don't want to admit that I like the way he looks. He is my toy and I won him. I can use him how I want, but I refuse to show anything even bordering on friendship. It is the only way I can control him. Keep the threats. He has on black boots. We will be doing a lot of walking. The shoes he had on before where not suitable. We argued over it. He argued over it. I kicked him in the groin and planted my knee under his chin and when he was back on his arse I asked him. 'You want to put these boots on so we can find Spencer?' And so he did.
There is a bruise on his face now but it will heal. I can help with that too.
I've got on what I always wear. Sort of. Blue denim dungarees with a rip in the knee and an orange T under it. I've got on my feet a pair of heavy kicking boots. I can see around the stitching on the edge where they have become stained with blood. It makes me smile. My hair is tucked back behind my ears and it shoulder length and in my hand I hold my bit of wood and I swing it around in front of me and smirk.
'Just get a damned room.' And I kick at the dirt on the floor but I don't take my dark eyes off his. This is the problem with looking like a damned teenager, they give me no fucking respect. It makes me want to kill things and once Aaron is sleeping and stuff, then will go out and hunt. This though isn't helping find dad and his slut. Then again I need to decide what to do to them once I find them and I need to get Aaron in to the right place in his own head if he is going to help me kill the fuckers. He is entering the small office room now and I stand and watch. He knows I 'll be watching all the time.
You might have noticed that I am calling him "Aaron", this is so people will not look at us with so much curiosity. I thought they would think us lovers maybe, but I dunno if they do. Maybe just friends, Maybe step dad. I want people to think I screw him, or he screws me. Yes. I want people to think I am his little whore. I like the idea of that. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy in side and makes my smirk turn into a grin.
And here he is walking back towards me a small frown on his face and a key in his hand. 'Twenty five.' And he passes the key to me. He is good. He knows who is in charge here. I glance over at the doors and raise and eyebrow and he takes the hint and walks over to the appropriate door.
A small room but plenty big enough.
I want him to take me. I want him…I want him bad…but he's not like Spencer or my dad. He wont do that to me. I can see him looking at me and I wonder what he is thinking.
-o-o-o-
I seem to be living in a world of confusion. Sam is – I don't know what Sam is. He is going to help me find Spencer and Floyd but I cant remember why it is so important to find them so quickly. Sam is in a hurry. He talks to me constantly. He has explained what Spencer did. He explained what Flanders did. I know what I have to do to stop this confusion. The way he looks at me. The child is creepy. And now the door has slammed shut and he is standing there with his bit of wood and a nasty look on his face.
'Shower'
he tells me and at least that will get the dirt of the day off me. I walk to the small bathroom and see that there is a big shower cubical and no bath. Towels hang over a radiator which isn't turned on. I turn on the water for the shower and close the bathroom door. Quickly I strip. I don't like not having clean clothes to put on afterwards. I would really like a bathrobe to slip into, but nothing but the clothes I've had on all day. I fold my clothes carefully and place them on the toilet seat lid and then step into the cubical. There are three sides to it and it is quite deep. Small bottles of shampoo and shower gel sit on a ledge. I pick up the shampoo and squirt some into my hand and massage it into my hair.
I am thinking of Spencer. Wondering about him. I think my memories are effected. I have some strong memories of him. Ones of his face and of his back, and of his shoulders. I know what he smells like. I know what it feels like to touch his skin. I know what it feels like to have my arms around him and I know what it feels like to think he is dead and I cant think why he would have left me there. I cant think why the Spencer I think I know would have betrayed me like that. I know that the Spencer in my mind wouldn't have done what Sam is saying he did but I can think of no other reason I am here now….
My thoughts are so deep that I didn't sense or hear the door open behind me. I didn't know. I could have defended but I didn't realise until the wooden stave came down on the back of my head. My knees buckle with the shock and I put out my hands to balance myself. The walls though they are slippery and wet and I have no grip. As I try to turn to defend Sam swings for me again and catches me in the shoulder. He is strong. Much stronger than he looks. The muscles in his arms are taut and he makes a small cry of jubilation as the weapon strikes my right upper chest.
-o-o-o-
I'm not going to kill him. I need him to much, but I am going to beat the crap out of him and have him. He wont give me what I want then I will have to have second best. Even at sixteen a guy has his needs. He is on his hands and knees and blood is mixing with the soapy water. He isn't making a noise. He is strong in that respect and so I use my kicking boots and give him a quick square boot in the face.
He is lying now in the shower tray with his hands over his head but it doesn't stop me. I crack the wood down again and he finally yelps out and moves his fingers out of the way and I am able to bring my weapon down onto the back of his head.
Finally he has stopped moving.
I am not my father.
I don't like to fuck the dead.
My father is twisted and sick. I am just after some FBI arse to help me relax. I kick him until he is on his back and then I quickly strip and join him in the watery puddle of blood.
I'm going to sleep well tonight. It amuses me that he moans a bit. I know deep down it is the horror of this situation, but as the saying goes. Boys will be boys.