"Shhh…"
"Hush…"
"It doesn't hurt, it'll feel good, I promise."
"Just like that…"
"Don't tell mom or dad, or they won't love you anymore…"
"…this will just be our little secret."
Keeping a secret.
We've all done it, no?
Well, I'm sure at least you have once in your life— whether that be you taking the last cookie from the cookie jar, to your friend bringing weed to school, or you keeping away a belief or sexuality preference from family members.
The point is—
—we've all had secrets.
And Chuuya was certainly guilty of many.
"Hey, don't tell anybody—okay?" Shirase whispered over to him. The silver-haired kid pulled out a vape and slowly inhaled the smoking, allowing it to slowly possess him like some demon in a movie.
Chuuya side smirked. "Whatever, but if you get caught, that's on you."
"Alrighty," The other said, blowing it out over the lunch table. "such a teacher's pet."
Yuan sitting across from them coughed, plugging her nose and whipping at the smoke with her sweater sleeve. "Really?!" She yelled at him.
"Hey, hey…" The rebellious kid slipped it back into his pocket, putting up his "innocent" hands. "…I'm innocent, I swear!" He pouted.
"As if." She said, eye-rolling. "You're as guilty as a kid who got caught in the cookie jar." She put two hands up to her face, making signs as if she were eating a cookie. "No, mom— I didn't get into anything!" She yelled childishly, fake munching.
Scoffing, Shirase looked away and shook his head. "Yeah, whatever."
Chuuya laughed at their bickering, he had been too focused on his friends to hear the clicking heels enter the room. The others must have heard the clicks though, because they froze and went silent.
The clicks stopped at the edge of the lunch table, and as Chuuya slowly looked over, he immediately knew: they were SCREWED.
"So, does anybody want to tell me why it smells like cotton candy in here?" Mrs. Yosano asked sharply, crossing her arms. She was the school's nurse, but sometimes her shift would take place in the lunchroom since the class is so small. There is only one lunch period, and it's enough to fit all the students.
This is a charter school for engineering.
"The uh…" Shirase and Chuuya looked at each other, but both at a loss for words. Yuan was raising her eyebrows at Shirase as if he has something to say. "The—the… the cotton candy… is from uh—"
"The cotton candy machine!" Chuuya perked up, pointing towards the cranky old machine across the room.
It was a small pink shoebox: cords, metal fragments, wires, all just poked out of random holes cut around the cardboard box. But, attached on the top was a large metal round bowl, a tube in the center sticking upward, causing the metal to spin cotton inside of it.
Yosano seemed quite impressed by the invention, but her face was still quite suspicious as she looked back at the group of friends. "I'm impressed. Did you make that, Chuuya?"
"All three of us did." Chuuya said with a proud smile on his face. "We went to the scrapyard and started working on it."
"I see…" For some reason, a sort of melancholic look stretched over the woman's face. "Look, kids…" She then sighed, sitting on the edge of the table as she turned to face all three of them. "This is your final warning. This school is for only those who want to succeed in the field of engineering. One hundred percent. No dropouts, no future druggies, no loonies, nothing. We can't have anybody in here who isn't going to succeed in life." She then made eye contact with Chuuya. "This is your final warning."
Goosebumps covered Chuuyas entire body from head to toe. The hairs on his back stood up.
He got it. He understood it. He knows, he's a bad kid.
He hangs out with bad people.
That's only because that's who they are; him and his group, they all protect. He's known for being in a gang called the Sheep outside of school. They beat up people who do others wrong. They hurt whoever hurts first.
It's their own form of love for one another: hating the ones who hurt them.
And being in a private school? All whilst doing that?
Heck, you might as well ask Trump to accept him for who he is.
"I understand." He said, his voice cracking on the second word.
"Good." Yosano said. "Because I won't tell you again. One more thing, and you're outta here. You got that?" She asked as she pointed to him.
"Yeah."
Nodding, she gave a sharp look to Shirase and Yuan who were patiently sitting in their seats, trying to avoid her gaze, and she walked away. The clicking of her heels left the room and the teens felt relieved.
"Whewwwwy!" Shirase said, fanning himself off.
Chuuya punched his side. "Knock it off, this was all your fault. Since I'm not a rat, you almost got me expelled. You better thank my ass."
"Thank you!" Shirase turned to the ginger, grabbing his side gently like a foolish girl. "Thank you, O so handsome knight! I can finally be rested in my grace as I rest in your presence! Whaahhh!" He said dramatically, Yuan laughing in the background.
Chuuya blinked at him.
Shirase stopped, and continued to eat his food.
The rest of the day went by quickly as expected. It usually does. Chuuya had two more periods, then his school day was over. It was Thursday, so it was thankfully almost the weekend.
All he really did was build a model of the unit circle in Precalculus, and in Language Arts he just read some passage on residential wiring. And finally, he went home.
"Mom, I'm home!"
He yelled when he walked into the house, but there was no response.
"Mom?! Mom—I'm home!"
Again, no response.
Chuuya walked over to the side of the living room's couch, setting his book bag down next to it. He then walked down the hallway and to his mother's bedroom, pushing open the cracked door and exposing an empty room.
"Mom…?
"She's not here."
Startled, Chuuya jumped and pivoted. He turned to face a tall figure on the other end of the hallway.
"Well, where is she?"
"She's gonna be out for the next week. She left you in my possession. I'll be your guardian for the next week or so."
"But I thought she was going to scheduled rehabilitation in two weeks?"
"…"
"Oh…" Chuuya said, coming to a realization, nodding slowly. "I see…"
"I'll be watching you while she's in the hospital. You'll be fine, it's me."
You'll be fine, it's him. Chuuya repeated in his head, licking his lips. "Yeah, I know."
Paul flashed a grin, walked over and patted his little brother's back, "If you need me—you'll know where I'll be." The man said, his hand resting on the boy's shoulder.
Nodding, Chuuya cleared his throat and walked forward to his room. He shut the door, locked it, and took a breath. Tears slowly filled his eyes with his back resting up against the door.
His mother was his only protector in life. His only wall to shelter his innocence from the world.
Who will be his shelter now? What will be?
She was like a bird, her feathers always warming her children like eggs readying them to hatch. She always warmed Chuuya; hugged him, adored him, supplied him, and supported him, no matter what he was doing.
Paul is…
…Paul is a different story.
One that Chuuya doesn't want to get into right now.
He laid down on his bed and opened his phone. He surfed through pictures of him and his mom.
Wow, she looks so happy.
If only she didn't suffer from addiction. If only she didn't let the burden of her past control her and take her over.
But Chuuya has no room to judge. He's not any different.
Finishing up a few assignments, the teen let time hold him in place. Letting the dirty man of time pass by, take advantage of him and allowing hollowness stretch out through his heart. Just so he can dwell in it; before going to sleep.
He needs to dwell in it, or his mind will float to other places.
Places where he is too terrified to let himself even dip his toe in.
His eyes slowly closed, letting the fantasies of the dreamworld take him away.
"Stay still…"
"I don't… I don't want to…"
The 6 year old felt a pain, a sharp, torturous, sharp pain. He yelled, his abdomen red and hurting as his T-shirt was pushed up to his shoulders.
"Just do as I tell you to." The other said. A deeper voice, but not too deep. Older, but not old enough, according to some. 14 years old, to be exact. "Just stay—still."
The grips on the infant's shoulders were hard. The knuckles holding them were clenched so hard that they were white and the bones were protruding outward. Blonde hair full of sweat dripped down and landed in the infants mouth, it was horrendous.
Utterly, utterly horrendous.
The older boy started moving in a painful motion, but the younger one had to close his eyes.
Chuuya had closed his eyes, and his mind was floating to somewhere beyond. Somewhere to distract himself from whatever was happening.
When was the last TMNT episode?
What did Michelangelo always say?
Cowabunga!
Chuuya tried to make himself smile, because that's what his mom always said. When you feel like crying, think of something that makes you smile.
But even the things that usually would make him smile made him feel more hollow than ever.
"What if mama sees us?" He asked, tears rolling down his red cheeks. "What if I tell mama?"
"You're not going to." The older said, "or else mommy won't love you anymore. You know that. She would hate me, but mostly she would hate you. To know you're doing such dirty things."
Chuuya cried even harder. But the other didn't seem to notice, nor did he care.
"I want mommy to love me!"
Quickly, a hand came up and smacked itself on the little boy's mouth. His mouth was clamped shut and closed by a large hand.
"Then be quiet and let me fuck you, moron!"
Chuuya shot up.
Was he in a pool?
He looked down, and no— he wasn't in a pool. He was in bed, and he was sweating a lot.
One of his hands came up, resting on his pale and skinny chest as he took deep breaths and closed his eyes.
"Common, get a hold of yourself…" He whispered.
In through your nose, out through your mouth.
In through your nose, out through your mouth.
He repeated that same line 3 or 4 times, breathing until his heart rate had calmed down. He stood from his bed, and walked out of the room sluggishly.
Wandering through the hallway, he looked over and peeked to the other room. The door was cracked open, and the light was on.
Sounds were coming from the room and— was… was that— was that laughing?
He walked to the door, peeking through the crack as he looked in his brother's room.
White sheets were being thrown everywhere, a woman's voice seemed to be giggling, and laughter from his brother was echoing off the walls.
Ah.
Chuuya thought.
Ren must be here.
Paul's girlfriend.
He didn't know how to feel about the woman. She was tall, had good bone structure, and the most noticeable thing was her skinny and thin legs. For some reason, they make Chuuya think of backpack straps.
He curled a brow as the sheets went up, down, left, right, all sorts of directions. They're having quite a bit of fun, eh? He thought.
What fun is that?—
—To dance with another in the sheets.
He walked away from the door, leaving them to be.
A coil of thorns was slowly wrapping around his heart, causing him to choke as he made his way to the restroom. He continued the breathing exercises, even counting when doing so.
He reached the bathroom, slamming open the door, and shutting it. He went over to the mirror cabinet and opened the small door, quickly grabbing a bottle of pills labeled "HYDROXXXXXX" and poured about 5-6 in his hands. He took them all at once, not bothering to drink water and letting the meds take over. He rested his head against the glass in front of him.
He doesn't know.
He doesn't know why he gets the dreams. The nightmares; the terrors.
The dreams of his brother raping him. Touching him. Feeling him. Having him touching him. Not only that. He gets dreams of his mother raping him, him raping his mother, him raping his friends, them raping him.
Why, WHY.
Why does this have to be?
Why does it have to be like this?
He didn't ask to be made this way. To dream of this, to think of it. It just COMES.
He has memories, damnit, from when he was little.
Or were they dreams?
He doesn't know anymore.
Breathing heavily, he lifted up a cup on the corner of the sink hiding an old, rusty razor.
He took it, and slowly held it to his pink, white, pale and gentle skin.
Closing his eyes, he breathed out, and—
slash…
He breathed again…
slash…
slash…
slash…
slash…
He dropped the razor in the sink, opening his eyes to a scene of blood dripping onto his porcelain counter. The thick liquid ran down the sparkly surface, dripping into the drain.
"I'm not human…"
"I'm not normal…"
He whispered to himself, because it was simply true.
He wasn't human. He wasn't normal. He wasn't like everybody else.
Why, why is it so? When he looks at a person, when he's talking to them, a thought forces it's way to his mind of him forcing them yo do stuff they don't want to. Of him cutting their arms off so they can't resist. Of him being an absolute monster.
He doesn't desire it. But it happens anyway.
He's not human. He can't be. He just can't.
It's not possible that a normal human brain works like this.
He doesn't even know how it's possible he has a human heart. Sometimes he's convinced it might just be a car battery.
The scene calmed him down. Didn't rip the coils off his heart, but the blood softened the thorns. Distracted him from the pain. The more pain there is, the more there is to focus on. The more there is to look at. The more you don't have to think about it.
He then grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dumped it on his arms, cleaning the cuts.
He wiped down the sink and counter.
When he was finished, he wrapped his arms in bandages and then walked out of the room. The two were still getting at it, and he shook his head. Whatever makes them happy I guess.
Chuuya went back to bed, picking at the bandages wrapped around his dry skin.