The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave and find something more suitable to read. Ronyx stories are copyrighted, and the author maintains exclusive rights to the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Ronyx is a prolific Nifty author. Send comments to ronyx@themustardjar.com, Visit my personal website: www.themustardjar.com for more stories by Ronyx.
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A Mourning Storm Chapter 9
We drove around for about a half hour. Wade kept circling a particular house. He would slow down, but he never came to a complete stop.
"Who lives there?" I asked after the third time we drove by.
"My brother," he replied as he pulled the car to the curb. He sat and looked at the house for a minute before getting out. "Wait here." I watched as he walked up the drive and then disappeared behind the garage. A few seconds later I heard glass breaking.
I looked at the ignition, but I realized the car didn't start with a key. I was going to attempt to drive away. I waited a few more minutes and then I got out of the car and started walking quickly down the sidewalk. I didn't want to be around in case someone had seen him entering the house and called the police.
When I was two blocks away, I looked back but the car was still parked in front of the house. I turned left and started heading back toward the school. I figured I would probably have about a half hour walk.
I had walked about a block when I heard a car horn behind me. I turned as Wade pulled up beside me and grinned. "Want a ride, Cutie?"
I stormed over to the car. "What did you do back there?" I looked into the back seat and saw a small flat screen television.
"Got us lunch," he giggled. "Get in."
"Did you steal that?" I shouted nervously as I looked once again into the backseat.
"Naw," he said. "He owed me some money. I'm just collecting."
"You broke into your brother's house and stole his television!"
He looked nervously into his rearview mirror. "Come on, Richie," he begged. "We don't have time to argue about this." When I heard a siren in the distance, I got into the front seat as Wade gunned the engine and pulled away.
He turned into an alley and drove down side roads and alleys until we came to the house where he had sold my cell phone days earlier. "Wait here," he said as he got out, removed the television from the backseat and headed onto the porch. Someone answered the door and he disappeared inside.
I looked around nervously, scanning the road for a police car. After hearing the siren earlier, I was sure that someone had probably seen him enter the house and notified the police. I was relieved when Wade finally came out and ran to the car.
When he got in, he turned to me and smiled. "Where do you want to eat?"
"I'm not hungry," I responded angrily.
"Come on, Richie," he pleaded. "Don't be mad at me. I only did it for you."
I covered my face with my hands and sighed. I couldn't believe he had stolen from his brother just to buy me lunch. I jumped when he snaked his hand into my shorts and wrapped it around my flaccid cock.
"Let's go eat and then go back to my place." I looked over and he wiggled his eyebrows. I could feel my cock hardening. He gave it a few more squeezes and then pulled his hand out. "Where to?"
I put my head back against the headrest. "You decide," I replied. Ten minutes later, he was pulling into the parking lot of one of the town's best steak houses.
"We can't eat here!" I exclaimed. "It costs too much."
Wade pulled a large wad of money out his pocket and grinned. "I got it covered." He got out, walked around to my side and opened the door. "This way, Sir." He put his hand against his stomach and bowed.
"Idiot," I giggled as I followed him into the restaurant.
Wade was unusually quiet throughout lunch. He would look over at me and smile shyly. Finally, I couldn't take the silence. I asked, "What's wrong?"
"I just feel strange," he answered. "This kind of feels like we're on a first date."
I looked at him and smiled. "Yeah," I giggled. "It does." He scooted nearer to my chair and reached down and took my hand.
"I really love you," he said. "You're the first person I've really felt this way about." His eyes became misty with tears.
"I know," I replied. "I'm falling in love with you too."
"Really?" He looked at me hopefully. "You are?"
"Of course," I said as I squeezed his hand tighter.
Wade looked down at my half-empty plate. "Are you done eating? I want to get back to my place." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.
"Sure." He motioned for the waiter and asked for the check. I tried to see what it had cost, but he carefully hid it from me. I was surprised when he pulled out two twenties and then told our waiter to "keep the change."
When we got to his car, he looked around the parking lot before leaning over and kissing me. "I want you inside me again," he moaned as thrust his tongue inside my mouth. We stopped when a car pulled up beside us. The man inside gave us a disgusted look as he got out.
"Asshole," Wade muttered as he started the car and pulled away.
When we stopped at a light, Wade reached over and once again placed his hands inside my shorts. My cock instantly hardened. I then reached over and started rubbing my hand over his erect cock. He stretched his body out so that I could feel him better.
We continued to rub each other as he drove toward his house. Wade looked over at me and smiled. As he did so, he didn't see the light ahead of us turn red.
"Wade! Watch out!"
The last thing I remember was the horrible grinding crunch of metal as our car collided in the intersection with another.
"Can you tell me where you're hurting?"
I could faintly hear the siren blaring above me. My eyes focused on a woman staring into my face. She put her hand to my eyelid and raised it, and then shined a light into it. I squinted and tried to close my eyes.
I fought to sit up. "Wade!" I began shouting, looking wildly around the ambulance for him.
"Lie back," she said soothingly as she pushed gently on my shoulder.
"Where's Wade?" I screamed as I tried to sit back up.
"You must lie still or we'll have to sedate you," she warned.
"Where's my friend?" I pleaded as I laid my head back. "Is he all right?" I looked into her face trying to find and answer, but she turned and began adjusting the monitors behind me.
I grabbed her sleeve and tugged on it. "Tell me if he's all right."
She turned and placed a syringe into the tube running into my arm. Within seconds, my world darkened.
I was awakened when I heard someone calling my name. "Richie?" The voice whispered as they gently tugged at my shoulder. "Can you hear me?"
Again, I batted my eyes and focused on a man in a white jacket. He had a stethoscope around his neck, so I assumed he was a doctor. As I became more alert, it was obvious that I was in the emergency ward of a hospital.
"Richie?" The voice asked again. "Can you tell me where you hurt?"
I looked down at my body which was wrapped tightly in a white sheet. I moved my hands and then my feet.
"Excellent," the voice said. I winced when he touched the side of my head.
"Did that hurt?" He asked as he ran his hand over the side of my head. Again, I winced and nodded.
I turned when the door opened, and two more people entered the room. They were dressed in the same white jackets as the man above me, so I assumed they too were doctors.
"Is he alert?" A woman who appeared to be about forty asked. She walked over and looked at the side of my head.
"I'm Dr. Austen." She leaned in and examined my head closely. I yelled out in pain when she pushed on the side of my head. "I'm sorry," she said. "But this is necessary so I can see how badly you're hurt."
She held up two fingers. "How many fingers do you see?"
"Two."
"Do you know what year this is?"
"2009."
"Who is the president?"
I had to think for a moment. "I didn't pay much attention in school. Is it George Bush?"
She looked down and smiled. "You should have stayed awake." She turned to the other doctors. "I think he's going to be all right."
"What's wrong with me?"
She turned back and looked down. "You received a pretty bad concussion when your head hit the window." She patted my hand. "You're a very lucky boy."
"What about my friend?"
The smile on her face vanished. I didn't need to be told. "Someone will be in shortly to talk to you," she said sadly as she stepped over to the other doctors. They turned out the light as they exited the room.
Silent tears started to flow down my cheeks.
Wade was dead.
Moments later, a nurse walked in and gave me a shot. Again, my world went black.
The next time I awoke, my Aunt Barbara was calling my name. "Richie?" I felt her squeezing my hand tightly. I opened my eyes and saw Uncle Ray, Dr. Austen and a stranger standing against the wall.
"Can you hear me, Richie?" I turned my head away from her. I wanted everyone to go away. I wanted to be left alone. I remembered the accident, the grinding of metal and the scream of Wade echoed in my ears.
"Richie!"
Then silence.
I didn't want to know. I didn't want to hear the words. I wanted people to go away and leave me alone.
I wanted it to have been me instead.
First my shoulders started to tremble. Then my body began to shake uncontrollably. Aunt Barbara reached down and pulled me into her, and I felt Uncle Ray wrap his strong arms around me.
"NO!!!!!" It started from my mouth as a low moan. Soon a wailing, mournful shout could be heard throughout the floor.
Dr. Austen rushed over and administered another shot into my arm.
Darkness once again.
When I awoke, I was alone in my hospital room. I sat up and looked around. There was a tube running into my arm, and the blue monitor to my side was making a beeping sound. For the first time since arriving, I felt that I was alert and aware of what was going on.
The tragic accident came rushing back to me. I could remember Wade fondling my erection inside my shorts. I remembered screaming when I saw the red light above, and I shuddered when I recalled Wade shouting my name. And I remembered in a split second a large SUV ramming the driver's side of the car. Then I could recall was my body being hurled into the window.
I had blurry images of Wade's body leaning over the steering wheel. Blood covered his face as he lay motionless. I could also remember the excruciating pain on the right side of my head, and the warm blood that flowed down the side of my face.
And I remember calling out Wade's name, but he didn't respond. When I touched his body, he dropped to the side and his head fell over into my lap. I knew then that my first love was dead.
Medics had to use the jaws of life to remove our bodies from the car. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I could hear the whirring of the blades and the urgent screams as they tried to rip open the car.
They kept asking me where I was hurting, but not once did they ask Wade. He was dead.
When they managed to tear off the roof of the car and carefully remove me, they left Wade's body behind. He was dead.
And now I lay alone in a sterile hospital bed while he lay somewhere in a cold storage shelf inside a morgue. Why couldn't it have been me? Wade loved life. He made living fun. He had for a brief moment lifted me from my depression and gave me a reason to live.
And now he was dead, and it should have been me. I again had no reason to live.
I turned my head away from the door when it was pushed open. I didn't want the person to see my tears. But when I put my hand to my face to wipe them away, there were none. I had no more tears to give.
"Good morning, Richie." A sweet voice sang out my name. "How are you feeling today?" She came around the bed and looked down at me. She then lifted my body and placed me back onto the pillows.
"Are you comfortable?" she asked as she continued to inspect the monitor beside me. "Is there anything you need?"
"I gotta pee," I responded angrily. It felt as if my bladder was full and I didn't think I could hold it much longer.
"I'm sure you do," she replied as she opened a cabinet and then handed me a plastic urinal.
"I'm not peeing into that," I insisted as I started to sit up. "Help me out of bed."
"You can't get out of bed yet," she warned as she looked down at my arm. "You've got an IV hooked up to you."
I reached down and pulled the tube from my arm. A searing pain shot up my arm as I yelled out, "Well, it's not now!"
An alarmed look appeared on her face. "Oh, Dear!" she exclaimed. "I've got to go get some help!" When she ran from the room, I crawled out of bed and stumbled across the floor to the bathroom. As I did, I saw myself in the mirror. My face was white and gaunt. The side of my head was shaved, and there was a dark bruise with a large bulge protruding from my skull. My right eye was also black and swollen. I touched it and winced in pain.
"There he is!" I heard the nurse shout. I looked over as a male doctor entered and rushed over to me.
"You need to return to bed!" he shouted. "You're going to cause more damage."
"I don't care!" I shouted back as I entered the bathroom, opened my gown and started to piss. He held my arm and steadied me as I relieved myself. When I was done, he helped me from the bathroom and back into bed.
"That was a foolish thing to do, Young Man!" he admonished me as he pushed the IV back into my arm. Again, I winced in pain.
"Do you think I give a damn?"
"Maybe you don't care," he replied, "but there are a lot of other people who do."
I started laughing. "Yeah, right, everyone cares about poor Richie Ferguson." When he was done, I watched as he inserted a needle into my arm. Darkness again.
I was sitting up in my bed the next morning nibbling on some toast. The nurse had earlier brought me breakfast. The eggs looked dry and the bacon was overcooked. The orange juice felt refreshing as it went down my throat. An aide had even brought me another glass when she saw how I had quickly drunk the first glass.
Aunt Barbara and Uncle Ray had come to visit the night before, but I lay with my eyes closed pretending like I was asleep. They must have sat for several hours without saying a word before finally kissing me on my forehead and leaving. The IV had also been removed from my arm. I guess the nurse didn't want to deal with me having to go to the bathroom again.
I was startled when the door was pushed opened and two men dressed in suits entered. My eyes narrowed in anger when he walked in behind them and stood against the wall.
One of the men was extremely tall. He must have stood over 6'5". I was frightened by his appearance. He looked mean. He walked over and looked down menacingly at me.
The other man was shorter and looked friendlier. He smiled as he spoke. "I'm Detective Owens." He extended his hand, but I refused to shake it. He pointed to the tall man beside him. "This is Detective Burress."
I looked over at him. His arms were crossed, and he had a frown on his face. I then looked back at Detective Owens. "What's going on?"
The taller detective stepped back beside him as Owens came closer to my side. "I know this is going to be difficult for you, but I've got to ask you some questions about the accident."
I looked back over at him. "I don't have anything to tell you."
"Richie," insisted Detective Owens as he touched my arm. "You've got to tell me what you know. Two people died in that accident. You're the only one who knows what happened."
I sat up and stared into Owen's face. "I told you I don't remember anything."
"Richard," he said from the side. "You've got to tell Detective Owens what you know. This is very serious. Because you were in a stolen car, you could be in serious trouble."
I stared at him defiantly, and then rested my head back on the pillow. "I don't know nothing," I muttered as I closed my eyes.
He walked over and grabbed me by my shoulders, lifting me from the bed. "Richard!" he shouted. "What happened in that car? Why did that young man run a red light?"
I looked into his concerned face and started laughing. Laughing. The situation seemed absurd. He was treating me as if I was a criminal. I wasn't his son. He was working, and I was no more than someone he had to interrogate about a crime.
He gave me a puzzled look and then stepped away from the bed. I saw my opportunity to finally humiliate him-to make him hate me. I turned back to Owens.
"You want to know what happened?" I shouted as I sat up in bed. He took a pad and pen from his suit pocket and waited for me to continue.
"Write this down!" I spat angrily as I looked over at him. "The great detective Richard Ferguson has a fag son!" His eyes narrowed in anger. I looked back over at Owens.
"Yeah," I said. "A flaming, screaming fag! And you know what else?" Owens had an astonished look on his face. He quickly glanced over at him and then back to me. "The driver of the car was my boyfriend. He had a name. He wasn't a young man. His name was Wade!"
"Owens!" he shouted. "Stop this questioning now!"
"Oh no, Father!" I hissed angrily. "You wanted to know what happened, I'll tell you. Wade and I were going back to his place to fuck!"
"Shut up, Richard!" He moved toward me, but the tall detective stopped him.
"He had his hands down my pants!" I shouted. "That's why he didn't see the light turn red."
"Richard!" He screamed as the detective held him back.
"He was going to fuck me, Father!" I shouted louder. "We were lovers, and he was going to fuck me!"
Owens turned to Burress, "Get him out of here!" I watched as he leaned back against the wall. He would have fallen to the ground had the tall detective not grabbed him by the shoulders.
Before leaving, he turned and stared at me. I tried to read his reaction, but I couldn't. It didn't look like anger. He looked...sad.
I rested my head back against the pillow and closed my eyes. I had finally won.
Then why did I feel so bad?
I have been posting stories on Nifty for over 16 years. I have quite a large library of gay teen fiction.
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