Here's the next chapter

Firstly a big thank you to everyone who reviewed and alerted last chapter, it really means alot.

Secondly thanks to Matsiko who offered to be my beta. However although a wonderful job was done on the first part of the chapter i am posting it all now with the second part unbeated as it has been a while since i updated. Therefore all mistakes are mine as i cannot edit even half as goog as she (?) can!

Chapter One

…

I felt cold and lonely. Nothing new there, though. Wandering the dark and empty streets of Pittsburgh at 2 AM wasn't the smartest thing to do but I had to get home somehow even though I really didn't want to see his face. Because of what he had done to me two weeks ago I was told that I wouldn't be able to use my right hand for at least half a year and that were soul-wrecking news to me since that was my painting hand. When I painted I felt free, I thought of happy times and I found myself in a world far, far away from reality, I felt complete. He took that away from me. What was important to him was the fact that I wouldn't be bringing in any money for the next several months. A good reason for him to berate me even more.

They say that the little things are those that make you come to your senses. What if "the little things" never were little? I wish I had escaped the pain and hurt when the abuse started but what I knew then I still know now – I have nowhere to go. The day I came out everyone but him left my side. Of course in those days I didn't know what a manipulative, aggressive, abusive and deceitful piece of shit he really was. I had to learn the hard way. Right now my body resembled one of my paintings when the beatings began – blue-black spots, purple scars...nightmares...my own living nightmare.

When I first met him I didn't notice the glint of evil in his eyes. I didn't notice the anger at the world, at his life...me. I would like to believe that I wasn't really that naive to fall under the pretense of charm and chivalry, that it was the pressure of him building a career as a musician that started it all but I am far from being stupid, I know he never was a good person. Others saw it, others warned me but I turned a blind eye to it even when there was no hiding the abuse. I pretended. I was really good at that. After all I did it all through my high school years and at home with my parents. Pretended I was straight, pretended I was going to business school, pretended I dated Daphne. But like in all games of pretend, reality has to take over at some point.

When I had first met him he was working as an orderly at the Pittsburgh Allegheny Hospital. My father had had a car accident that landed him in the ER. That day I remember that I was simply glad that my mother and little sister weren't in the car when it all happened. I hate to admit it but by then I had grown to resent my father for him not letting me be who I really was. It seemed like he had my life set out for me before I had even entered high school. Business degree, take over the "family business", get married and have 2.5 children in a suburban neighborhood with a white picket fence. When we arrived at Allegheny the nurses assured us that my father's wounds weren't life-threatening and he could leave in a few hours. I admired how my mother wanted to see my father by all means. I asked myself if all people in love with their partners acted like that? Now I know that those thoughts and feelings were utter bullshit. Love is like a drug, good while it lasts but it always wears off, it's only a matter of time. Yes, my parents may be still married but there's no love lost between them. Not anymore, not since I met him.

When I had first met him I wasn't at all sure of what he wanted. Hell, I had kept my "forbidden feelings" buried for so long that I was starting to believe them myself!

…

My mother was rushing to my father's side when she bumped into a dark haired orderly. She whispered a silent excuse but did not care to help him gather the papers he had scattered all over the floor because of her. I decided to help him out in place of my mother. I forcibly told myself that me being a good samaritan had nothing to do with the guy being "hot". I lied to myself. After I had gathered a handful of the documents I passed them back to him while muttering an apology on behalf of my mother's. I glanced by chance into his dark, almost black eyes and there I saw warmth. Years later, I'm willing to admit that I wanted to know if his hands would be warm against my own hands, my face, my waist... I was scared and confused but managed to pretend it was for my father's sake. I was always good at that, molding my feelings and emotions depending on the situation. It was constantly manipulating those around me.

It was not until the next day that the stranger in the hallway approached me. At first I acted as though I couldn't hear him speak and then I pretended that he wasn't talking to me. In denial some may say. But his voice was like liquid velvet, it drew me in and I concentrated on the sound not the words. It seams I had missed the whole conversation but the last few sentences of it.

"Like to go out for a drink somewhere?"

Like an idiot I asked him to repeat what he had just asked.

"I asked if I could take you out for a drink as a thank-you for your help yesterday?"

At the time I thought that his smile could melt the iciest of hearts?

"I don't even know your name."

"I knew you weren't listening to a word of what I said. Ethan, Ethan Gold and you are gorgeous but what's your given name?"

I laughed along with him and for the first time in my life I decided to be myself. Little did I know that it would turn out to be the biggest mistake I had ever made. The warmth in his eyes soon faded and they turned cold and hard, his once radiant smile turned into a malicious smirk, his once delightful laughter turned cruel and mocking.

…

It wasn't the beatings that finally pushed me over the edge, although they did their fair share. Like the fool I was I still believed he had loved me. After his brutal attacks he always said the right things and reminded me of the man I had met when I had barely turned 18. I blamed the change on various events, on myself but never on him. I chose to ignore him deferring the blame to me because when he fucked me the pain always went away and it made me fall in love all over again with the guy I believed he was or at least could be if I was just a better person, listened to him more, behaved. And I behaved...

But recently I got pissed very easily and I often ended up walking alone late at night. Instead of being with friends somewhere nice I kept to myself while trying to exercise my demons. Instead of being at some shiny club wiggling my ass I came across homeless people and hustlers who tried their luck and asked me if I could give them money. But I had no money, not even for myself.

I worked at the Liberty Diner for maybe two months now. While being there I met a woman named Debbie Novotny, a wonderfully boisterous and very colorful character who was like an angel and a second mother to me. She took over my work when I was too tired...or hurting, would always look after me and cut me some extra slack. When she noticed some things being wrong with me she started to question me about it but I always tried to change the topic. After a few weeks she stopped. The next time she asked what had happened to me "this time" I had said it was an accident. "Another one", she retorted but when I looked into her eyes I could see sorrow. I was aware that she knew that I was pretending being alright just to protect him. I had to admit that Deb could read me like an open book. Her intuition, motherly nature and the fact I never had a serious accident outside of "home" resulted in her having a very good idea of what was happening to me. I acted as though she knew nothing of the sort.

When I approached the apartment door I was thinking that he would be happy to see me home earlier than expected. In the end I ended up being the surprised one. It turned out that I came to be the one who got a very rude awakening, the one where his dick slid out of some random fuck's sloppy asshole, nevertheless in our bed where he had kissed my cuts and bruises and given me empty promises of better times. He didn't notice me at first, too engrossed in his obvious pleasure but he did notice me when I crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. The emotional pain was too hard to bear and nothing in compare to all the physical wounds he had inflicted on me. Looking up at him I could see he was about to cum. He just looked back at me and gave me the malicious smirk that by now had become so very familiar. Even after everything he had done to me, I still found it difficult to believe what I was seeing.

Brian's P.O.V

I surveyed the scene around at least, what I could see with my naked eye. The evidence below the surface wold have to be picked by the forensic team and their specialist equipment.

From what I could see they was not much of a struggle, if any at all which in my head ruled out the possibility of Justin Taylor defending himself. From all the reports we held, it was solely Gold who was the perpetrator and Justin didn't fight back so unless he was in severe danger I doubted he would of shot gold. He wouldn't leave him so why kill him? However I knew I needed more evidence than a 'gut feeling' as most other officers on the force thought it was a cut and dry case, all they had to do was find Justin, lock him up and throw away the key. No questions asked. I had to prove someone else was in the small apartment and that meant that I had to collect the evidence that the other officers may accidently missed, which is why I was going to examine every inch, nook and cranny in this apartment, no matter how long it may take.

I has no idea why I wanted to prove Justin's innocence and Mickey thought I was stupid putting my job on the line for one kid but I had always trusted my gut feeling and it had never wronged me before. In situations like this I was glad of my best friends little crush on me, it meant his little puppy dog act of his came in useful. I am not ashamed to admit that I sometimes used his adoration of me for my own gains. I needed to sometime as his feelings for me meant that I could get what I want from him with little to no questions asked. Just the way I liked it.

Michael Novotny is what I call a conformist homosexual. Wants the straight lifestyle but with a man, preferably me. But I had decided long ago that was not for me, monogamy isn't something I had ever seriously thought about. Heck, I've been on one date and ended up fucking the waiter. Heartbreak would always follow any serious relationship as Michael had already tasted with the doc David but had he learnt from his mistakes, had he hell he just went back to me hoping to get some scraps.

Despite his obvious attraction and affection, I loved Michael, just not in anyway he wanted me to. Not saying I wouldn't fuck him if he was some stranger in a club that I'd just met, there wasn't many people who I wouldn't in all honesty however I refused to do that to my friend and family. Mikey meant the world to me. He was the one who held me after I had cried when my dad had come home drunk and beat the shit out of me and helped me clean up my cuts, bruises and grazes. I could never love him the way he wanted me too and I wasn't going to give him false hope that I would by shagging him then discarding him like a piece of trash like I did with all my other tricks, I refused to hit him like that.

Michael's shout of "Brian!" Brought me out of my unimportant mussing. I always go over on a tangent at the wrong time!

I wandered my way over to Mikey hoping he had something good and that would help me in my own personal investigation because right now all I had was dead ends however I still did not believe Justin had committed the horrendous crime that had Gold being shipped away in a body bag, after being left like something out of a horror movie. But worse. Little shit bag may have deserved it but even my ice cold heart could manage to muster up an once of sympathy for him. His death looked extremely painful and hate filled. Planned out and not in a desperate attempt to save your on life.

"Mikey, what do you have for me?" I asked as I reached him.

"It seems Justin, our main suspect, had sex with Gold before the attack, the murder. The animal." Michael made an attempt of a growl at the end of the sentence. I say an attempt because his acting skills were rather poor. I knew he did not believe Justin had did this because of the lack of venom in his voice. He just wanted him out the way as he did not understand the obsession I had with proving his innocence. I wanted to tell him that I was just being a good cop or it was because of my father. But I couldn't for one I didn't talk about bullshit feeling unless I was very drunk and I also didn't lie and I knew that the previous reasons would be lies. There was another reason. I just didn't know what it was yet and might not till I actually met Justin Taylor in person.

"What, Michael would give you that idea?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm in my voce."
Michael noticing my sarcasm faltered a little but plunged on regardless.

"A used condom and semen on the bedsheets, Brian." He was back in full force now acting like he had just solved the whole case himself. He might not have done but he may have just found the third person in the flat and with some hope someone to prove that Justin had not done this. It was too much to hope this was the criminal but it was something.

I pulled out my cell to contact Ted, the forces top forensic guy and in my opinion the most trustworthy. I could not risk the only physical evidence we had that may prove Justin's Innocence Once again it was my gut speaking but Justin and Gold had been together quite a while and unless they were in an open relationship which I very much doubted why would they use condoms?

It seemed I would not have long to wait for answers as Justin Taylor walked through the apartment door and promptly collapsed at the sight before him. I lunged forward to catch him all the while shouting out; "who the hell let him in here?"