Frank finally tells Gee... it aint gonna be pretty :P
"Please - stay over there." He whispered, I paused, watching him watching me, before nodding and going back to my seat. "I'm sorry it’s just... I feel more comfortable this way." He said quietly.
"It’s okay." I said gently and he forced a smile. I had to admit, I was a little upset - hadn’t he started trusting me yet. I knew it was wrong of me to think like that but I couldn’t help it.
"Frank, why don’t you want to go see your dad?" I asked, prompting him to explain. He took a deep breath and hugged his knees tighter, chewing on his lip ring.
"Well... it’s... difficult for me to tell you." He said slowly. "I'm scared you won’t believe me." His hazel eyes met mine and I gave him a reassuring smile.
"I will Frank. I promise." I said softly. He nodded and looked back down at his knees.
"Okay... well the thing is... my dad... he... he used to... tell me stuff, when I was kid." He said hesitantly.
"What kind of stuff?" I asked, keeping my voice quite and gentle, trying to make sure he didn’t lose faith in me but wanting so badly to know everything.
"Religious stuff... I guess. We've always been a religious family and he used to tell me that when you died you would be offered a place in heaven, but to get that place you had to keep God happy." Frank looked up at me and I nodded, this was no shock - a lot of people, religious or otherwise, believed in a heaven and a God. Having to please God was a large element of many religions.
"Go on..." I prompted and Frank looked at his knees once more.
"Well... He... He would make me do stuff... to keep God happy... All kinds of stuff..." Franks voice got quieter, so that he sounded as if he was talking to himself and I could hear sadness and hatred in his voice.
"What stuff Frank?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even but I could feel my hands shaking, my heart thumping in my chest.
"Horrible stuff. When I was a kid I didn’t really understand it, I thought it was for God..." He looked up at me and I saw the tears trailing a wet line down his cheeks. "I didn’t know." He cried. "I didn’t know what any of it was - it just felt bad. I hated it. I ALWAYS HATED IT!" He yelled, my lips parted as I struggled to think of what to say, but now Frank had gotten started - he didn’t seem likely to stop.
"He would come to my room at night when I was sleeping, and he'd pick me up and hold me and he'd start kissing my hair, my face, my body - just everywhere. And I wouldn’t want him to - but he'd carry on - he'd tell me I had to let him otherwise God would send me to hell for being bad. And then I'd never meet my mom. And when I was little it meant something, and he'd do things to me -" Frank gasped and covered his ears, screwing his eyes shut as I watched on in horror, his fingers pulling at his hair.
"I wasn’t normal. I knew it wasn’t. And it hurt so bad." He breathed, never opening his eyes, continuing to block his ears as if he could hear something horrible. "And when I got older and I knew God had nothing to do with it, and I knew what he did to me was rape - I still couldn’t stop him. I'm too scared of him. I'm so scared..." He whimpered and I had to fight the urge to grab him, to hold him to me and make it all better. But I knew if I even started to approach him now he would probably have a heart attack.
"It stopped for a while... when I started high school he didn’t touch me anymore... he got girlfriends and I thought everything would be okay... but then... two years ago... he started again - not much. Just one night every two months or so, but then it got more frequent and for the last six months its been so often - and now its almost every day and I cant take it anymore. I just wanna die... I want to die." He broke down into sobs, rocking back and forth and I sat there, stunned. I had of course suspected this all along, but hearing him tell me, having him fill in the details I had missed, it was painful. Shocking. Disgusting. I didn’t know what to say or do, I wanted to comfort him but I knew I shouldn’t, I was a man - and so in his eyes I was dangerous. No matter how much he grew to trust me a small part of him would forever be afraid of me, afraid of every man he saw.
"Gerard..." He sobbed, not looking up at me. "Gerard please... say you'll kill me..." He whispered, his body shaking from his sobs and I felt my heart lurch. "Say you'll kill me Gerard... don’t make me go home..." He whimpered. I struggled to find my voice as I shook my head frantically. I couldn’t believe what he was asking me. I couldn’t believe anyone could be so broken.
"Frank - no. I couldn’t." I managed to choke out and he looked up at me, eyes red and cheeks swollen. "I wont hurt you Frank. I wont take your life." I said sternly, surprised at how even my voice sounded.
"Y - You believe me? Don’t you?" He asked, almost pleaded and I nodded, wanting so badly to draw him into my arms.
"Yes. I believe you Frank, I believe you completely." I said honestly and I saw the relief wash over his face even as the tears fell from his eyes.
"They didn’t before. They said I was lieing." He whispered. I nodded, and I think he already knew that I knew about the time when he was six, and I was relieved to see him force a weak smile.
"I'll help you Frank. I wont let him hurt you anymore." I promised and his bottom lip wobbled as he got to his feet, trembling he slowly approached me, I got to my feet too, but didn’t go closer to him. I would give him the option of coming to me. He was shaking badly and I could see the fear he was trying to fight, but he didn’t stop and when he reached me he gently slipped his hand in mine and nodded.
"Thank you." He whispered.
I groaned and rolled about in my sleep, tossing and turning, clutching my pillow to my chest as I squirmed beneath the sheets.
"Dad - stop it." The boy whispered, pulled tight against the older mans chest as his neck was smothered in kisses. "Please daddy - I don’t want to." He whispered, louder this time.
"You must. Otherwise God wont take you to heaven, and you'll never see Mommy." The older mans voice was low and husky, and his hands trailed beneath the pajamas shirt of the young boy who squirmed and cried against him.
"Be a good boy..." The older man whispered, his voice laced with lust and dark intentions. He stripped the child of his nightwear and though the boy sobbed frantically he didn’t try to pull away, because if he did God wouldn’t love him. And mommy would be sad.
"Your such a good boy." The older man growled and in the darkness his white teeth gleamed as he grinned, running his hands all over the small child, before reaching a hand down into his boxers, rubbing himself and moaning in delight as the boy watched him with frightened eyes. He grabbed the boy and pulled him over onto his front, wrenching his legs apart as he shook and sobbed.
"P - Please... I don’t want to..." He begged but the older man wasn’t listening. He never listened. He ran a hand down the milky skin on the back of the child, going down to his thighs and moving slowly over the boy.
"Shhh now, and be a good boy for you dad." He cooed, growling in pleasure he destroyed the innocence of his own son. The room flashed red and black feathers fell from the ceiling, obscuring the two males from view. Images flashed - Rosaries, blood, doves, pictures of Christ, of Satan, a pack of cards with only number sevens. The laughing of a baby and the screaming of a child as a thousand different voices spoke at once. A jack in the box handle turning as more images flashed, growing larger and shrinking, the faded tune of a toy that stopped with a sudden springing up of a joker. And the painful sobs of a boy. The moans of a man. A demon. Red everywhere. The screaming...
I shot up, the scream still ringing in my ears until I realized it was my own. I clamped a hand over my mouth and sat, shaking as tears slid silently down my cheeks, my body slick with cold sweat and my bed cover tangled round my legs. It had been a nightmare, nothing but a nightmare. But my heart continued to hammer against my ribs and I felt as if I was going to be sick, I couldn’t stop trembling and the darkness of my room made me feel like I was suffocating.
After some time I lay back against my pillows, untangling myself and bringing my duvet back up my body. I took deep, calming breaths as I told myself over and over - it was just a nightmare. Frank was safe at home, his father having rang him when he was still here to say he was going out for the weekend and we would be back on Monday, meaning Frank could go back home without having to face his father.
I ran a hand through my damp hair and closed my eyes, willing my body to relax. I had never had such a fucked up dream before. All those images... the noises - It was like I could actually hear them. I shuddered and curled up beneath my duvet, pulling it over my head, creating a new kind of darkness - a safe place, where I could block out the rest of the world and finally fall asleep again.