Into the Lion's Den
A story by e
© 2002 SunShine DayDreamers UnLimited
DISCLAIMER: This story contains descriptions of sexual encounters between minors that are homosexual in nature. If offended by such things or if you are not of legal age in the country where you live, then read no further. The characters and events depicted in this story are completely fictional and any resemblance to any real persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. This story may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the expressed written consent of the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter deals with the act of suicide. If you are or think you may become suicidal, do not read this chapter, please call for help. In the USA you can call the Nine line sponsored by Covenant House – 1-800-999-9999. I have also listed links at the end of this chapter to several websites where you can find further information pertaining to teenage suicide. I am not affiliated with any of these sites or the hotline numbers listed above.
Chapter 7
I was nervous as hell as I knocked on the door. I had made up my mind. I wanted Chris back. I was going to apologize. Things would be just like they were a few weeks ago, before the fight. We would kiss, maybe even make love. We had never had anal sex, but I thought, well, if he wanted it...
"What do you want?" Chris had opened the door and was looking at me.
"I... I wanted to talk." His tone had caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting him to be so harsh. Suddenly I was scared.
"So talk." I wanted to turn and run. Chris was scaring me. I'd never seen him so cold.
"Can...can I c...come in?"
He just stood there, like a rock. I could feel tears building up in my eyes. Fuck Mike. Don't fucking cry. It's obviously what he wants. He wants to see me break down. Don't fucking do it. Just say I'm sorry and get it over with.
"I... I'm s... sorry, Chris."
"Very fucking sorry. One very fucking sorry excuse for a boyfriend." Chris disappeared as the door closed in front of me. I heard the click of the lock.
I just stood there. Shaking. Trembling. There was a lump in my throat the size of a baseball. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. Tears just streaming down my face. I had blown it. He hated me now. My beautiful boyfriend who had always been so kind, so gentle, he hated me. My foolish pride had made him cold and hard.
I started walking away, slowly with tears pouring forth, head down. I wanted to die.
Maybe he would look out the window and see how he'd hurt me. Maybe he'd open the door and call me back. Maybe he didn't mean it. I wanted to turn and look, but I couldn't. What if he wasn't looking? What if he didn't come out? Even worse, what if he was standing there laughing?
I couldn't go in through the front door. I didn't want my cousins or my aunt to see me like this. I walked around back and came in through the basement. I lay down on my bed and buried my head under the pillow and continued to cry. Nothing had ever hurt like this. Not when my dad hit me. Not when they kicked me out. Not even the broken jaw from the fight with Recob, or the punctured lung. Not my mother's words or my father's harshness. None of that compared to this. Not even close.
I could kill myself. But how? If I were at home, I could get my shotgun. I could blow my brains out. But I wasn't at home. No way I could get to my aunt or uncle's medicine cabinet. I'd have to go through their bedroom. I'd get caught for sure. Joey had tried hanging himself. Not a bad idea, but there was just no way. The basement ceiling was too low. I could slit my wrists! Yeah, that's it. I walked over to the bathroom. FUCK! No fucking razor. I didn't even shave yet, and obviously nobody had thought of bringing one down here. I didn't even have a knife.
I walked back outside. I thought about sitting on the picnic table in the cabana, but someone might see me. I sure as hell didn't want to talk to anyone right now. I just kept walking. I don't know how long, but eventually I ended up back at the house. I went to bed.
As the bus pulled away the next morning I was deep in thought. I was definitely going to do it. Whatever it took to get Chris back. I couldn't believe that he had just blown me off last night. Wouldn't even talk to me. It was like I meant nothing to him. I thought he'd be pleased. I was finally doing what Joey had said Chris wanted. I was making the first move. I apologized. I had expected the same from him. Instead, he told me to fuck off and shut the door in my face.
He couldn't have meant it. I knew he still loved me. He had to. The way he'd been looking at me from across the cafeteria every day, or during cross country practice. Even Joey said he still loved me.
So why the fuck did he do it? Why was he such a jerk? It didn't make any sense. FUCK! Unless he just wanted to hurt me. Maybe that was it. Maybe he just wanted me to suffer for a while. Yeah. That had to be it.
I had been so deep in thought that I didn't even realize when I walked into my first period class.
"Mr. Paul."
"Oh, hi Mr. Prather." I stopped and headed over to his desk."
"It seems you are wanted in Mr. Grayson's office."
"What?" My heart seemed to skip. That caught me completely off guard. "What the hell have I done now?"
"Mr. Paul! That kind of language is not acceptable in my classroom." There were some giggles from some of my classmates.
"Sorry Mr. Prather. It won't happen again." Fuck Mike. You are fucking losing it. Calm down. It's probably nothing.
I walked out of the room and downstairs to the office. Mr. Grayson's secretary motioned me to go on in.
This was really weird. Grayson never had you walk right into his office. He always made you sit outside and sweat a little first.
As I walked in, I got the shock of my life. Two of Lakeview's finest were standing there. I damn near turned around and ran. If I'd done something, I probably would've. But I hadn't DONE anything.
"Ahh, Mr. Paul. This is officer Barton and this is officer Martin." He motioned first to a very tall and powerful looking middle-aged man to my right, then to a smaller, but about my size, and younger officer standing directly in front of me.
"Um, hi." I said rather sheepishly.
"You're Cliff Paul's little brother?" It was the younger officer.
"Um, cousin." This is about Cliff? What could he have done?
"Oh, but you live with him, right?"
"Yessir." I just couldn't figure this one out. Talking to cops was making me nervous.
"Well tell him John Martin said hello. I went to school with him, ya know."
"You mean, you went here?" Somehow I still didn't think this was a social visit. But then again, maybe they weren't here for me. Maybe they just had business with Mr. Grayson.
The officer nodded his head. "Now, please have a seat, Mike."
So much for that idea. The fact that they were polite made me nervous. I hated it when authorities were polite. It always meant they were trying to calm you before they stuck the knife in. They ones that wanted to kill you with kindness were the worst. I sat in the chair. The two officers towered above me.
"When was the last time you saw Chris Curtis?"
Chris! This is about Chris. What could HE have done? I must have just sat there looking stupid.
"Mike, this is important. When did you last see Chris?"
"What'd he do, run away?"
"Just answer the question, son." This time the older officer was speaking.
"Um, after dinner. 6:30, maybe 7. What's this about?"
"Just answer the questions. Was this at his house?"
"Uh, yeah." I didn't like this. I couldn't imagine Chris doing anything wrong. Well, ok, maybe he'd run away. But why?"
"What were you doing? When you saw him last, that is."
"We... we just talked... Well, not really I guess. He slammed the door in my face." I could feel my eyes welling up. C'mon, Mike. Don't be a fucking baby.
"You didn't go inside?"
"Uh, no." Something was wrong, very wrong. This was starting to freak me out.
"Why would he slam the door in your face? What were you talking about?"
"Um, that's kinda personal." I really didn't want to tell them about being boyfriends. That was a bit embarrassing and really none of their fucking business.
"We know the two of you were homosexuals. It's not that personal."
They know? How could... Of course, every fucking body knows. Fuck Mike you are really stupid sometimes. Chris could have told them, or Mr. Grayson.
"Mike." Officer Martin knelt beside me. "This is really important. Why were you there? What were you talking about?
I took a breath and swallowed hard. Fuck, Mike, they already know the worst part. You might as well tell them the rest. I looked at the floor while I spoke
"I went over to apologize. We broke up a few weeks ago. After a fight. Chris ran away. He left me there to get my ass kicked. I was mad. I wouldn't talk to him. I wanted him to apologize for leaving me. But he wouldn't. It was driving me crazy. Joey kept telling me he was afraid I hated him. That if he talked to me I'd dump him. So he wouldn't come to me. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I went to his house last night to tell him I still loved him. I wanted to say I was sorry for ignoring him."
I couldn't help it. I was crying. I paused to wipe my eyes. Mr. Grayson handed me a tissue.
"But... but he wouldn't... he wouldn't talk to me. He seemed angry. Upset. He told me I was a sorry excuse for a boyfriend and shut the door."
I couldn't go on. I blew my nose into the tissue. Mr. Grayson took it and handed me another.
"Why do you need to know this? Wh... where's Chris?"
Officer Martin looked into my eyes. I looked back down at the floor.
"Chris took an overdose of sleeping pills last night."
His words rang hollow. I could feel gooseflesh spread across my arms and down my legs. Please God. NO! Puleeeaaassssseeeee! I closed my eyes. I didn't want to hear the rest.
"It must have been shortly after you left. You may have been the last person to see him alive."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" My whole body was shaking. My head was ringing. I couldn't think. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. I broke down crying, burying my head in my hands.
"I'm sorry Mike. His mother found him this morning when he didn't get up for school."
I was choking. There was a churning in my stomach. I slid out of the chair and tried to crawl towards the trash can by the door. The officers must have thought I was trying to escape. The big one grabbed me. He stopped me from moving. It was too late. "ummmmblaaaauuuuggggghhhhh!" I threw up on his pant leg and his shoes. He stepped back quickly. Just in time to be out of the way for the second round. My stomach heaved, propelling me forward. "Ummmblaaaauuuuuhhhhh!" I lost my balance. My arms went forward to try and catch myself, but I slipped in the warm, smelly, chunky liquid. I landed face first in the puddle. I coughed, choking a bit as I picked myself up. I was now covered from head to waist with my own vomit.
I heard Mr. Grayson calling out to his secretary to get the nurse and the janitor. The officers were saying something to me, but I couldn't make it out. I was becoming light-headed, dizzy.
I remember being taken to the nurses office. Someone had cleaned me up. I was babbling about something. I know I asked for Joey. The officers drove me home to Maxine's house. But it was all a blur. When I awoke, I was laying on the sofa in the family room. Joey was holding my head in his lap, stroking my hair. Maxine brought me some water.
"Here take this," she handed me a pill, "it'll help you sleep."
I took it.
I barely remember the next several days. I cried a lot. I felt horrible. I had killed my boyfriend. I might as well have done it with my own hand. Even his parents thought so. I went to the funeral home. They wouldn't let me in. They blamed me. Even some of the other students who were there called me a murderer. They were right. It was my fault.
Joey tried to comfort me, but he wasn't holding up much better than I was. Chris' family blamed him as much as they did me.
I wondered if Joey wanted to die as badly as I did. I hoped not. This wasn't his fault. I knew he blamed himself, at least for part of it. But it was my doing. It was all me. If I hadn't come between he and Chris. If I had just been strong enough to fight off my impulses. If I wasn't so goddamn selfish. My mother was right. God had damned me to Hell for my sins.
My dreams were broken. I had been a leech, sucking life from the bones of my boyfriend. Everything I touched died, as was I was dead too, from my soul to my body to my mind. Destroyed. Impotent. I had tried to exist. I had failed. I was an obscenity. A faggot. I had betrayed my boyfriend. I was a snake, crawling on its belly, spewing venom. I didn't deserve to live. I needed to die.
I picked up my pen and pulled out my journal. It was time for one final entry. A last chapter. I started writing. I was gonna make this one my best. It had to rhyme. I was terrible at that. But this one would. Imagery. That was what Miss Hanson, my seventh grade English teacher had taught us. A poem was a painting of words. I used my dictionary, my thesaurus. I got out the best words I could find. I intended to leave this world with a bang. Everyone who read it would know what a horrible abomination I was. It took most of the morning and well into the afternoon. I reread it one last time.
An Unfamiliar Parasite
Alone, I walk the streets at night,
A shadow quite unknown;
An unfamiliar parasite,
Ingesting life from phantom bone.
Worthless wretch by light of day,
Paragon of doom,
Breeding havoc and dismay,
Inside my soul: my tomb.
A serpent rears its squalid head
Venom forged from ravaged dream.
All I touch becomes dead;
My entire life, obscene.
Cryptic delusions,
Ponder,
Transparent thought.
Existence merely dies.
Apocryphal prophecy hath I wrought,
No one perdures who tries.
Subalturn to a turgid commandant,
REVOLUTION REPLETE WITH RAGE!
Naught but freedom shall I want,
From life's eternal stage.
I put down my pen and left the notebook laying on my bed. I walked out the back door and across Branyan's farm. The world felt lighter, somehow it was clearer than it had been in weeks. I had a purpose. But I had to hurry. They'd be home soon. I couldn't let them get there before I did.
I put the key in the front lock. It turned. At least they hadn't changed the locks on me. My parents were stupid like that. I went straight for their bedroom. He always kept it in the top drawer with his socks. Yup. Still there. Smith and Wesson .38 special. I opened the cylinder, fully loaded. I shouldn't need more than one. I had six shots. I closed the drawer.
I stuck the gun into the front of my pants and closed my jacket over it. I wanted to wait for David, to see him one last time, but knew that he'd have football practice. I went to his room and dug around for a pen and paper. "I love you, kiddo. No matter what they tell you about me, I want you to know that. I want you to have this. I know you've always liked it. Your brother, Mike." I took the silver chain that I always wore from my wrist and I stuck it under his pillow along with the note.
Where? That was the only remaining question. I headed out back towards the woods. I stopped at the tree house and looked up. No, not here. Too many kids like to play here. I walked down to the river. There were a couple of kids playing there. School must be out. I followed the river out to the road and on to Branyan's farm. I was walking aimlessly. Numb. It was starting to get cold. It would be dark soon.
I found myself at the hill where Joey and I had talked about his suicide attempt. It seemed like a fitting spot. I could see Chris' house, my aunt's house, Joey's house, and the trees that surrounded my parents' house. I could see the railroad tracks where the fight had taken place, where Chris had turned and run. Everything that was wrong in my life was in view. I sat down and took the gun from my pants. "Smith and Wesson .38 special." I said to no one in particular. I opened the cylinder and checked once again to make sure it was loaded. "Yup. Six rounds." I gave it a spin as I snapped it shut. I took a breath. "Let's see, do I put it up to my head like this," I raised it to my temple, "or do I stick the barrel in my mouth?" I put my lips over the end of the barrel. "Yeah, it can't slip this way."
Tears started rolling down my face. Suddenly I was cold, very cold. I focused my eyes on the cold, blue steel in front of my face. "I'm sorry Chris. I never meant to hurt you. I was too proud. Too conceited and selfish. I ruined your life. I ruined my own. You'd have been much better off if you had stayed with Joey." Joey. This would likely hurt him, too. Fuck! I didn't want to hurt Joey either. "Sorry Joey, I hope you'll understand. I have to pay for killing Chris..."
"I won't understand!" It was an angry sounding voice.
I turned and took the gun from my mouth. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Looking for you. I saw the poem you wrote. I'm not gonna let you do this."
"You don't have much choice."
"You didn't kill Chris."
"The fuck I didn't!"
"NO! CHRIS KILLED CHRIS!" He was standing over me as I sat on the ground. His hands on his hips as he looked down.
"Because I let him down. I hurt him. I challenged him to prove he loved me. I asked him to die for me. Well, he proved he wasn't afraid of dying.
"Chris was never afraid of dying, Mike. Not ever. He was afraid of LIVING!"
I looked up at him.
"Mike, he was afraid of living, not dying. I told you before, Chris was a runner. Well now I know what he was running from. It wasn't death. It was life!"
"No Joey. It was life without me. I drove him to it."
"You think his world revolved around you? Are you that conceited? Chris' world revolved around Chris. You saw that. That's the real reason you couldn't take him back. He couldn't give of himself. He couldn't love." Joey sat down next to me. "The only person Chris loved was himself."
I looked into Joey's eyes. They were filled with tears. "He loved me, Joey, he loved me and I let him down."
"No Mike. He thought he loved you, you thought he loved you, but he didn't, he couldn't. It wasn't in him. He was just like me, back when I thought I loved Van, but it wasn't love. Chris was fooling himself. You weren't any more to him than Van was to me. I can see that now, Mike. You can too, if you let yourself. All the signs were there. Everyone just missed them."
I just sat there looking at Joey, the two of us crying our eyes out. I knew he was right, but I didn't want to admit it. I wanted Chris to love me. A part of me still wanted to think that Chris had died for me. But I knew it wasn't true. I wasn't worth dying for. I put the gun back up to my mouth.
"Give me the gun, Mike." He reached out his hand.
I shook my head.
"You do this and I'm fucking next."
I looked at him.
"I'm not starting over again. You're the only real friend I've got left. If I lose you, I might as well be dead too."
I kept the gun aimed at my head, but took it out of my mouth. "No Joey, you can't. I'm not worth it."
"To me you are."
"Don't Joey. You've come way too far. You've got your life in front of you."
"And you don't? What kind of bullshit is that?" He paused and took a breath. "Besides, you can't stop me. You pull the trigger and I pick up the gun and do myself. Simple as that."
"Joey." I was pleading with him now.
"Is this worthless?" He had pulled the necklace I gave from under his shirt. His hand was clutched around the stone. "Was it all a lie? Please Mike. Tell me it wasn't a lie. Give me the gun."
Damn this kid could be a jackass sometimes. I sighed. "FUCK!" I put the gun in his hand. He took it, leaned towards me, and threw his arms around me. I thought he was going to squeeze me in two.
Eventually, my arms went around him as well.
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