Clubbing and strange sex places. Drugs and dreams. Will the drama ever end?
I laughed at Lissa and Bob's mad dancing as music pounded at an ear splitting volume overhead. Foam was falling from the ceiling, and flying in every direction as people kicked and twirled their way through. I was glad that Frank had persuaded me to come; at first I hadn't wanted to come, still hurt and nervous my... beating. The stiffness had mostly gone by now, but it still hurt like a bitch whenever someone touched me wrong. That was why me and Frank were sitting at the bar now, instead of dancing with the other two.
It had struck me as slightly odd at first, that there were so few of us but I didn't mind - it was almost nice to get away from the usual crowd. Frank had told me there had been some serious drama on the Friday that I wasn't there, but wouldn't go any further into it then that. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know.
But Lissa'd had the idea of just the six of us going out, and going completely ape-shit before Phin's parents came back, and she couldn't go out any more. I don't think the other girl was overly fussed, but was coming along for the ride anyway. She and Andy had disappeared (again), and the remaining four of us ended up having a conversation about what they were doing and where. Which then lead to a competition of the weirdest places we'd ever fucked somebody. My list wasn't particularly long - the oddest place I'd ever done anything was in the janitor's closet at my old school, and that wasn't even sex. Bob didn't have any overly exciting stories either, but did promise that he did once fuck someone on the roof of her house. Lissa had some weird ones though - including the front porch, a tree and a cinema. What I couldn't understand though was how the fuck would you manage to have sex in a tree? It was a toss up whether I actually wanted to know or not. She and Frank had continued arguing (his best one being the bottom of an empty hot tub) over who's places were weirder until Bob had announced that he wanted to dance and pulled Lissa away. Me and Frank had stayed leaning against the bar.
I wanted to join the two of them now - the music was infectious and the speed Bob had given us all had kicked in with a vengence. Oh yeah, I was back on the pills. It wasn't too bad though - I mean, this was the first time I'd done anything since Mikey had come and that had been weeks ago. Anyway, Phin had gone and bought us all vodka shots, and Bob had dolled the pills out. We'd all downed them, then swallowed the pills - I couldn't exactly just refuse. I didn't regret it either.
"Come on!" I shouted to Frank over the loud music. He looked at me questioningly. "I wanna dance!" I put on a whiney voice and pouted. He laughed.
"Let's dance then!" And he pulled me forward so we were next to Lissa and Bob on the floor. Foam was drifting down around us like snow, and had built up to be almost knee deep.
I didn't recognise the song, but the raging guitar and fierce drums were enough for me to enjoy myself. The four of us were soon twisting and jumping under the pulsating lights, our dance moves probably more suited to a Michael Jackson song than the headbangers that were playing.
Phin and Andy came back soon enough, both carrying shots between their fingers. Frank cheered and helped himself to two straight away.
"Hey! Dude!" Phin protested, pulling the remaining glass away so he couldn't snatch another.
"It's ok - I don't want one!" I yelled.
"Ok, but you're paying for the rest of them!" The girl shouted (the last bit direct at Frank), before downing the one shot she was holding. The rest of them put their glasses on the table and we resumed our dancing. Foam was think in the air, and our clothes were probably ruined with the amount that had soaked into them. The music was fast and heavy, and brilliant to just lose your shit to. Lights over head pulsed and made the whole place seem alive with their wild flashing whirling. Energy was crammed into every movement and I loved it. It was really different from the last club we went to - when everyone left horny. This time everyone left drunk, and more than a little high.
The club wasn't too far away from home, and me and Frank walked back. I didn't know how much he'd had to drink, but he was incredibly hyper. As we walked through the dark streets he was singing at the top of his voice, really out of tune. I laughed as he jumped onto the top of a wheelie bin and began to play air-guitar, making strange noises that I could only guess was his imitation of a guitar.
I carried on walking, turning to see my completely wasted boyfriend leap off the bin and run towards me, stumbling slightly. "Piggy back!" He yelled, before jumping up and wrapping his limbs round my torso. I tripped forward, but caught my balance and held on to his legs.
"I am not carrying you all the home like this." I told Frank.
"Noooooo - Geeeeee. Pwease, pwease, pwease?" He begged, showering the back of my neck with kisses.
I rolled my eyes and carried on walking, surprisingly managing to carry him nearly all the way. I gave up when we were two blocks away, dropping his legs. Frank landed on his butt on the hard ground. I took one look at him, sitting on the sidewalk, looking througherly shocked and burst out laughing.
"Gerard!" He pouted. I just laughed harder, doubling over. "Hmph!" Frank snorted and climbed to his feet again. He stomped off, apparently very angry. He ruined the effect slightly by going in the wrong direction.
"Uh, Frank?" I called through my giggles.
"What?" He spun round beaming, anger forgotten. That was slightly strange.
"John's is that way." I pointed behind me.
"What are you going on about? Who's John?" He asked blankly. I just blinked. Was speed supposed to make you forget things?
In the end I just sighed. "Come, let's go home!" I caught his hand in my own, and lead him back to Johns. Thankfully, the key was still in Frank's jeans' pocket and I managed to dig it out. It wasn't easy though - he started squirming and laughing whenever I tried my put my hand in, but refused to get it out himself.
Finally we were upstairs and in bed. Or on the bed. We were both in our boxers and Frank was lying on top of me, pressing our mouths together in a fierce battle of tongues. I was panting slightly, and sweating from the heat of the situation as Frank pressed his hips down on mine. He began to grind against me and I instantly felt blood rush south. I moaned, and bucked my hips up, eager for more action. All I could feel was my boyfriend; his hot, tanned body pressed down on on mine, and I was perfectly happy with that.
I slid my hands down the back of his boxers and squeezed the soft mounds of flesh there. Frank groaned above my and I pushed my hands down, bringing the clothes down with them. I pouted when he pulled away from me, but didn't protest when he pulled his pants off all together. My boyfriend grinned, before crashing our mouths into eachother's again. The kiss - well, I say kiss, it felt more like we were trying to swallow one another - was fierce and heated, and I loved every second of it. Frank continued his earlier grinding, and we both gasped and our hard-ons pressed together. The only thing seperating them was my boxers, and my boyfriend seemed happy with this, as he made no move to take them off. I wanted to pull back, and admire him, but the pace was too fast, the whole thing too heated to stop. As a result, we both reached our climaxed quickly, me coming in my boxers, and Frank, all over my stomach.
He lay on top of me for several minutes after, until it reached a point where I thought he'd fallen asleep. I poked him cautiously in the side, only to have Frank's head snap up, and be presented with his grinning face.
"You scared me there!" I laughed, after getting over the shock.
"N'awww poor Gee-bear." He giggled, and began to crawl backwards until he reached the sticky liquid all over my crotch and stomach. There, Frank proceeded to lick it up, his hot tongue leaving wet trails all over my skin. I moaned and tensed under his touch, especially as it moved further down, and he was licking my cock through my boxers. I stifled a groan and shifted, looking down at my incredibly hot, naked boyfriend. He glanced up at me, as though feeling my gaze and opened his mouth. For a moment I thought he was about to blow me, but he simply yawned and crawled back up.
"Damn tease." I muttered.
Frank yawned again, and smiled sleepily at me. "You love it."
I chuckled at that. "Goodnight," I whispered, giving my own yawn. I tugged the sheets down the bed from under my boyfriend, then pulled them back up so they were covering both of us. I laid down, to have Frank immediately put his head on my chest. I chuckled again, and wrapped my arms round him, ready to fall into a deep, exhausted sleep.
"Leave me 'lone." Barely a whisper. The most I can manage.
The hands are hurting me. More and more and worse and worse. They pound me, touch me, scratch me, carress me, hurt me. It kills me.
I want to die... Make the pain go away. They won't stop.
I'm a freak. I know it. But please... leave me? They won't. Never will.
Pain, agony, torture - all inflicted by the way their hands are moving.
"You're going to like this."
Leave me alone.
Scream. What are they doing? That isn't a hand. It's cold. It's hard. It burns. What is it?
"You like that, queer?"
No. I don't. Why do they think that? Why won't the leave me?
The cold, hard burn moves inside me. Back and forth. Ripping and tearing and stretching and... I'm gonna die.
Laughter. Cruel, evil laughter.
"Rot in hell."
Whimper. Moan. Cry. Scream.
They won't leave me.
I can hear them, calling my name, screaming it.
They're shaking me. Jerking my body back and forth in order to induce more pain.
Leave me alone. Why can't you just stop? Please. Just go.
I scream again, wanting to this torture to end.
Then I realise I'm not wearing anything.
I won't let this happen again. You're not gonna hurt me again.
"Get off me!" I scream, finding my voice.
The hands draw back, but I know it's a trick. I won't let them do that to me again.
They got away, unpunished last time. So now I have to punish them. Or they'll hurt me again.
I reach out blindly, grabbing the person trying to hurt me. They're only wearing boxers.
NO! They won't hurt me again.
"Stay away from me." I growl. "This is what you did!"
I rip the bowers off the person, ignoring their screams. Like they ignored mine.
I don't know when I got so hard, but it's enough - I thrust into them, feeling hot flesh encase me.
They're still screaming, but I ignore it, pulling out of them, before thrusting back in. They deserve the pain. What they did to me has haunted me all these years, and now they're going to pay.
Oh God - why was he doing this? Frank, my boyfriend, the guy I loved was... raping me. I screamed as he pulled back, only to slam in again. Everytime he repeated this, it got a little faster, a little more violent. It felt like I was being pummelled on the inside, and everything was on fire. The pain was indescribable; a ripping, tearing, burning mess of blood and hurt. It put the beating I'd endured a few days earlier to shame. The worst part? That it was Frank - the person I'd opened up to and fallen in love with.
I didn't know what had happened. We'd fallen asleep peacefully, only for me to wake up a few hours later and find my boyfriend screaming and thrashing around on the bed next to me, clearly caught in the depths of a nightmare. I'd shaken him to wake him, try and save him from the terror that was etched all over his face. He'd screamed at me, and I'd let go, only to have Frank grab me and force me down on to the bed. I'd hissed as he gripped my bruised arms, but didn't say anything - just waited for him to come to his senses. He was still muttering and whimpering, and I guessed he wasn't fully conscious yet. I'd expected him to calm down and stop, maybe cry for a bit, perhaps even try and punch me like he said he had to Phin once. I'd expected anything but for him to jerk my boxers down and force himself into me.
I stopped screaming after a while, my throat burned raw. I just laid them, whimpering and wainting for the torture to end. It had to sooner or later. Eventually, I felt Frank come inside me, but it wasn't like last time - it stung and burned and made me scream again. He collapsed on top of me, not even pulling out, and just lay there, panting. I was too scared to say anything, to even move. After what could have been hours, or seconds, he rolled off of me and laid on the bed. I glanced at Frank's face. It was taut, covered in tears and looked as nearly as tormented as I felt. I couldn't feel sorry for him though - not after what just happened. That was when the grin broke out over his face. It wasn't the normal cute, cheeky, happy smile that my boyfriend wore - it was evil and twisted. Sick.
He closed his eyes, and within ten minutes, was snoring gently as he slept. Feeling completely disugusted, I crawled out of bed. We'd been in his room, so I crept across the landing, careful not to wake anyone. Every step, every movement, hurt as it disturbed my torn insides and the sickening feel of warm blood ran down the backs of my legs.
Once in the bathroom, I realised how sick I was felling, and ran to the toilet, opening the lid and puking my guts up. Everything inside me gushed up my throat in a sickening, revolting mess, before pouring down the toilet bowl. It stunk, and I didn't feel any better with nothing in my stomach.
It was then that I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Even in the dark, I could see my reflection, but wished that I couldn't. I looked pathetic - standing there completely naked covered in bruises, blood and tears. My no-longer pale face was blotchy and red, my black hair handing limply over my head and slick with sweat. I was shivering slightly, and there was blood down the backs of my legs. I looked digusting. I felt even worse.
With a shaking hand, I turned the shower on and climbed in. I was too exhausted to scrub at my skin like I wanted to, to get rid of the feeling of dirt sticking to my skin. Instead, I just turned the water up until it burnt my skin and collapsed on the floor of the shower. As I sat there, tears began to creep down my face, and soon I was crying in full-throated sobs, just letting out all the feelings of horror and disgust and fear and sadness pour out of me. This was the worst I'd ever felt - despite all of the emotions, I was mind-numbingly empty, and didn't feel alive. I was more zombie than human, as agony tore through me, both physical and pyscological.
Why did this have to happen? Everything was going so well, and I was even considering just staying in California; choosing my boyfriend and life here over my family. Now everything was messed up again, and I didn't know what to do. I let out another cry as I pictured Frank. He'd been a beautiful, amazing boyfriend, up until tonight. Now, all I could see when I thought of him was that sick, evil smile that had crossed his face before he fell asleep. Sobs wracked me again, and I fell deeper into that pit of depair and hopelessness that was clutching me.
I didn't move when the water finally was clear - as opposed to tinged pink with my blood. I didn't move when it began to run cold over my bare shoulders. I didn't move when my sobbing finally calmed down, and tears just leaked over my face. I was ready to never move again. It was the light leaking through the window that told me I had to though. As the bathroom became brighter, I realised that I hadn't locked the door when I came in, and that Frank could come in at any time. I squeaked in fear at that thought. Another waved of sadness washed over me when I realised that I was scared of him. This wasn't fair! Why couldn't things just have stayed as they were? Why did he have to dream like that? Why couldn't he have come to his sense before... attacking me? I stifled a sob.
I got up, and climbed out of the shower, turning the water off. There was a towel out, so I dried myself off quickly, and walked into my room. After locking the door, I pulled some clothes on and collapsed into bed. When I was finally still, my thoughts and pain caught up with me again, and I cried myself into a fitful sleep.
Dreams of torture and agony haunted me. Of betrayal and hate. Of lust and anger. After several hours of this, I finally awoke into a reality that wasn't much better. Every part of me hurt, even worse than after Thursday's attack. Although I was exhausted, I grabbed a hoody, and went outside. Each step hurt, but by the time I'd got to the street, I didn't want to stop. I just wanted to wonder through the early morning light, watching the world wake up. To get lost and never come back. I was incredibly tired, but I didn't want to fall asleep again to another nightmare. And I didn't want to go back to John's either. More to the point - I didn't want to face Frank again.
I'm not really sure who I feel sorrier for at the moment - Frank's just gone and fucked things up properly, eh? But poor Gerard. Scratch that - I deffo feel sorrier for him!
So what did y'all think? Anyone see that coming? If you did, I've obviously failed as an author somewhere along the lines! :/ Meh! I got a review of the last chapter saying 'at least we know they're together now'! That's just gone up in flames hasn't it? Sorry - I'm proud of this, I think I pulled it off rather well! Right, that sounds really big headed! I'mma shut up now...
Just for the record, amphetamine, aka, speed, does give you flashbacks and drugs in general fuck with your head, so this isn't too unfeasible. I know people who have done weirder things whilst drunk or high (thankfully none this violent, or cruel, but there you go). So yeah, don't go hating on me!
Tell me what you think, and remember, if ever in doubt in a Religious Studies exam, just make sure you include 'the baby Jesus' in every answer! It's a fail safe solution!
Anyway, review and rate, and whilst waiting for the next chapter, feast your eyes on this: http://shannonandjaredleto.tumblr.com/post/13992368769
I do love those boys XD
Tell me what you think!!!!
And whether you expected this turn of events!
Have I said that enough yet?