Cult of Syn

Cult of Syn 1

Syn

"Can I borrow about 2500 dollars?"

"Oh my god. What did you do now?" he asks me almost immediately.

The sound of T-Boy's voice was utter fear. It's uncalled for.

Well.

Ok. Maybe not. I was a little fucking crazy.

By a little crazy, I mean I kind of escaped a few mental institutions or what not back in my glory days. But it's not like T-Boy hadn't helped me escape. If I was a problem, it was because T-Boy enabled me. I blame him. Like my mother said before she punches her last ticket in life, "You don't give a pyromaniac a flame and expect him not to set shit on fire."

Then she croaked. Everyone croaks sooner or later though.

I can't help but to sigh, "Damn T-Boy. I just need a loan."

"I just gave you a loan two months ago. You haven't even paid it back."

"I'm on the phone with T-Boy. T-Boy is my...shit...damn. I don't know what the fuck T-Boy is to me. He's not really my friend, because well he wants to fuck my brains out every chance he gets. He wasn't my lover because we haven't had sex in forever. T-Boy's mother adopted me when my parents died a long time ago. T-Boy and his family took me in and raised me.

"Ok...smart ass. I need another one," I explain to him, "I'm good for it. I swear..."

"Syn... what kind of trouble are you in."
I know the tone of his voice. I can already see T-Boy's face.

T-Boy was my go-to. He's been my go-to for years. Since college I'd gone to him. That was almost 7 years ago. We'd moved out to DC in hopes that he'd keep me out of trouble.

"I'm a changed man," I tell T-Boy, "Honestly I'm not in trouble. I am starting a business."

He's shocked. I can hear it.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'll call it Ideas from Everywhere. It's going to be a business marketing website. Inventors come and give in their ideas. I help market them and get a small profit."

"Wait so you're actually going to do something with your life?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Syn. I'm not trying to."

"I'm so fucking over your condescending ass nature. I'm not trouble. Believe it or not I've changed. I'm a good man now. I've found Jesus or whatever his name is. I'm actually better," I go off on T-Boy, "Matter of fact I have a job, I have an education and I got someone WAITING at home for me when I get there! Fucker!"

I bang the phone on T-Boy. I know it sounds a little harsh. That's our relationship. T-Boy and I have always butted heads. I'll apologize in a few hours if that. That's just how our life was. He was one of the only people in the world that could handle me.

But I've changed now.

I roll up to my apartment and open my box. I have a ring. Today was the beginning of the future. I was going to ask my boyfriend Chaney to marry me. I was going to start a business. I was going to be a good person.

Yes. A good person.

"Baby...I'm home."

Chaney must not be expecting me. I met Chaney a year ago. I had sworn off all relationships but Chaney sought me out. Chaney was a good guy. He worked in a non-profit helping kids. He was beautiful at that. I'm talking about tall, sexy and extremely smart. He has light brown eyes but dark skin. T-Boy didn't like him but then again T-Boy didn't like any of my boyfriends. He said his light brown eyes made Chaney look gay. Which I guess was the point of being in a gay relationship but it was pointless talking sense to T-Boy. Chaney was a sweetheart. Did I mention he worked with kids? He loved me too. Like that was important, right? He told me every damn day that he loved me.

I walk into the apartment. I was going to ask Chaney to go to dinner. I had it all planned out. The dinner. The candle. I was going to have someone come out with the music. Then I was going to get on my knee and I was going to propose to Chaney. I was going to finally do the right thing—whatever that meant.

Syn Clinton was going to be getting married.

"Chaney?"

I walk into the bedroom. I open the door. That's when I hear it.

"Oh FUCK ME! FUCK ME HARD!"

The sound blows my mind. Chaney is a top, so I know there is no way in hell that my TOP boyfriend is screaming this. My mind goes straight to porn. That's where it stops. I walk in the room with an idle mind and smile. I'm actually ready to just greet my boyfriend regardless of what I heard, but then I see it. I see my TOP boyfriend bent over the bed. His ass is touted to the ceiling and his head is pressed up against the sheets of the bed.

He is getting plowed, severely.
"Interesting," I say.

I wonder if there was a better word I could use at that moment. I wish there was a better word that came to mind. Interesting. That was the only fucking thing that came to mind. I hated the fact that I couldn't have thought of anything else but fucking "interesting". I'm not listening to a fucking seminar on all the different species living at the bottom of the ocean. I'm listening to my boyfriend getting plowed...severely.

And it fucking hurts me to see this. It hurts me that Chaney is loving it.

"Oh dam!" Chaney says jumping up.

He is standing there. The man I was going to ask to marry me is standing there looking at me with this shocked look. He doesn't respond at first. Even in this moment I can't help but to think that Chaney was a beautiful specimen. I mean he didn't look as good as T-Boy and T-Boy threw that in my face every chance he got. Still there weren't a lot of guys on this planet as sexy as T-Boy. Chaney was sexy in his own way and he also didn't sleep around as much as T-Boy did.

Or at least I thought he didn't...

"Interesting," I state again.

Say something else Syn. What the fuck was wrong with you? Where has your muchness gone? Where has your personality gone? Were you so domesticated that you can't even respond with more than a one-word sentence when your heart was being shredded right in front of your face.

1 year. I'd given this boy 1 whole fucking year of my life.

"I should leave," the guy fucking Chaney says.

His dick is gigantic. I'd only seen one dick that big in my life and I'd fallen in love with that guy. I wonder if Chaney was in love with this guy. The guy's dick swings 10 inches SOFT. It's dripping precum. Chaney hadn't even used protection when he was cheating on me. Why the fuck does it feel like everything in me is being broken into a million little pieces at that moment?

"You don't have to," Chaney tells the guy.

"He doesn't?" I ask.

Interesting. This is fucking interesting.

Chaney stops him, "No. This is my apartment. Look. Syn. I asked you a couple times for a threesome. Remember? I literally said, look bae, I want a threesome. I think we should spice things up a little bit. What did you tell me? You told me it wasn't a good idea. You said you weren't ready for that. I'm a man too. And I have needs. I love you but damn bro... you should have done what it took to please me. What can I say?"

He's a man. He has needs.

Chaney stares at me waiting for me to respond. He wants to argue, I think. He is cupping his dick in his hands and his other hand is fisted as though ready to fight me if I attack him.

He must not know me very well.

There was something about me that I'd hidden from Chaney very well.

"It's ok," I smile.

"What?"

I raise my eyebrow, "No yeah. It's fine. Give me one second."

Chaney and the guy he's been fucking look at each other. They exchange looks. They weren't expecting that. They weren't expecting my calm demeanor. They weren't expecting my warm smile. They weren't expecting me to sit at the edge of the bed, take out my phone, give them both friendly smiles and send T-Boy a text message.

The text message is short. It's simple.

It just reads: Can you come get me?

It's 5 hours later before T-Boy gets off work and is able to come and get me. He opens the door and gives me a long hug. Luckily I told him what happened on his way over and he's there. T-Boy is always there for me. When he answers the door it kind of sucks because T-Boy is fucking beautiful. He's always been fucking beautiful. He is dark skin, with a perfect hairline, and these puppy dog innocent eyes that were so deceiving. We dated back in high school. T-Boy was my first boyfriend. Things got complicated when my parents died and I moved in with his family due to the fact that his mother was my godmother. Still regardless of the fact that T-Boy and I weren't together I couldn't deny he was one of the sexiest men alive.

"Are you OK?" T-Boy asks me grabbing me up as soon as I open the door, "I came over as soon as I heard. I was at work. Who knew a strip club is so busy in the afternoons."

T-Boy was a stripper. I mean it was just one of his many gigs. He was a go-go dancer, a stripper, a bartender and all this other exotic shit that made me know for sure that I could never take him serious no matter what kind of chemistry the two of us had.

"You're right on time."

"Where that dickhead Chaney at? I'm going to bust his fucking head open," T-Boy explains walking through the threshold of the door, "I swear to God, I told you that piece of shit wasn't any good."

T-Boy was acting like he was some sort of guardian angel. He'd always been protective almost to a fault. He had a particular way of dealing with things. His way of dealing with things was fighting or blowing up or being emotional ass T-Boy. I loved him for it and I knew his heart was in the right place but that never really accomplished anything.

"He's asleep."

"Asleep. Wake him the fuck up," T-Boy says, "I'm about to whoop his fucking ass, Syn. I'm not leaving here without fighting him."

T-Boy takes off his gloves and his scarf. It's a cold winter night but I can tell he's red in the face because he's ready to fight.

"That won't be necessary. I already have my suitcase. I'm ready to go. Just give me a second."

"Wait...you're just going to leave?" T-Boy asks.

"Of course silly."

"Syn. This doesn't sound like you..." T-Boy tells me, "You aren't like burning down this apartment, you aren't sending a sex tape to his church? None of that
"That's so 10 years ago," I respond.

Just as that moment a few guys walk out of the apartment. I wave goodbye to them.

"Eh...what have you done with Syn Clinton?" T-Boy asks me.

He is honestly confused and he looks scared.

"Thanks for the opportunity," one of the guys say.

"No problem," I respond.

I walk back into Chaney's apartment. All my guests are leaving the house around the same time. T-Boy is staring at me the entire time with this look. I can read it. He's trying to read me. This motherfucker knew me a little too well.

"Syn..."

"What T-Boy?" I ask putting my other suitcase up.

"Who are those people leaving out of your boyfriend's apartment?" T-Boy asks me.

"No one," I respond, "Can I borrow your gloves?"

"Um...ok...Syn. You're scaring me."

"Gloves? Please. Now."

T-Boy hands me the gloves. I put on his gloves and walk into the bedroom. T-Boy follows me at that moment. I hear his gasp a little bit when he sees Chaney laying on the bed with his lover right next to him.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Is he dead?" T-Boy asks, "Syn. Syn... please tell me he's not---"

"Stop being a pussy. He's not dead. I told you he was asleep."

"He's not moving."

"He's in a deep sleep. I drugged him," I state.

With T-Boy's glove I grab Chaney's finger and unlock his phone using the fingerprint unlock. Thank God for I-Phone technology. This was the easy part. The hard part was getting Chaney and his big dick lover to drink some Quaaludes. Thankfully there was a drug guy down the block who got into some kinky shit and was willing to give me some. Then all I had to do was convince them that I wanted to have this threesome. The idiots jumped at the opportunity and didn't notice me slipping something in their drinks while they prepped.
"Syn. I'm not the smartest guy in the world," T-Boy says looking at the naked men in bed, "I'm pretty sure this is a felony."

"Relax look. It's wearing off. They are waking up right now..." I state.

T-Boy looks over at Chaney. He's making these odd sounds as he wakes up. They are kind of weird. I'm going through Chaney's phone at that moment. I'm scrolling through his social media.

"What are you doing in his phone?"

"Siri ---how do you spell Allah Akbar?" I ask.

"Syn..."

Jesus Christ. I should have waited a while to have T-Boy to come over to me. Chaney stirs attempting to get up weakly but I push him back to the bed. He lays there, clearly the drugs are still having some effect. He's muffling some sounds. I think he's actually trying to say my name. I don't know. I don't care. It's too late for that.

Much too late for begging.

"What, T-Boy?"

T-Boy is breathing heavy, "Um. Why are you typing Allah Akbar, into Chaney's phone?"

"I'm not typing it in his phone," I tell T-Boy, "Jesus Christ."

"Oh thank god..."

"I'm typing it into his Facebook feed. I found this amazing photo of this guy who looks just like Chaney wearing an Isis flag. What's the chances right? I guess those light brown eyes and light brown skin came in handy after all."

T-Boy is freaking out.

I take my time placing Chaney's phone back into his hands and following T-Boy out into the living room. I think that's when he sees the rest of the little set up that I have in here.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!" T-Boy is freaking out.

"T-Boy you're over exaggerating."

"Why are there bombs in here? WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE BOMBS IN CHANEY'S LIVING ROOM!"

"So remember how I had that website that I needed you to invest in? With those inventors. Well I ran a little last minute contest. Best homemade bomb contest. These are all the submissions. You'd be surprised how many of these weirdo teens want to win a couple hundred bucks and even more surprised how many know how to build homemade bombs."

There are homemade bombs all around Chaney's living room. I think T-Boy was putting two and two together. He's already out in the hallway and he's going fast.

"I'm getting the FUCK out of here!" I hear T-Boy say.

I grab my suitcase.

"Well wait for me."

I find T-Boy outside of the apartment. He's hyperventilating. I don't think he ever really saw that many bombs before.
"Can you open your trunk?" I ask.

"Fuck no."

He's annoying me.

"T-Boy do you love me?"

"You're crazy Syn. You're fucking crazy. You need help. We need to get you help this time. This isn't healthy. Like why not just beat his ass? Like why not just let me beat his ass? What the FUCK are you doing? I'm not helping you with whatever the fuck you have going on."

Beating his ass wasn't good enough. No. That wasn't my style. I hated when T-Boy called me crazy. I resented it. He didn't do it often but when he did do it, he hurt my feelings. I resented the idea of crazy. What was crazy? Who decided if someone was sane or not?

All my life society told me what it was to be sane. Society told me that I had to act in a specific way and do things in a specific way. So I did it. I found a nice guy who liked kids. He fucking liked kids. I fucking HATED kids. So when I find someone who actually likes them I think---oh, he must be a good guy. Because he likes fucking kids. You know. I'm a bad guy who hates kids. So the opposite of me was Chaney. So I decide to settle down with this bastard. I'm ready to marry him and he's fucking someone else. In the bed that the two of us sleep in.

And then he tells me that the person doesn't have to leave?

No. Fighting him wasn't enough. It was nowhere near enough.

T-Boy hadn't seen crazy yet.

"T-Boy open your trunk. We should be far away from here soon," I explain to him in a low voice.

T-Boy's eyes get wide. He's not amused. He's not laughing. He looks like he is having a real panic attack here. You would think that he worked some amazing job where felonies mattered. He wagged his dick for a living. Like somewhere in this tough life he paved for himself you would have thought T-Boy would have developed some type of backbone.

None-the-less, he's so cute even when he's scared to death.

"Syn. Are you...are you going to blow up Chaney?" T-Boy asks me.

It takes him everything to get the question out. He is really concerned that I've finally jumped the shark and have turned to murdering people. He knew me better than that. Still...I'm amused that he would think that.

"No. Of course not. We should leave though. We don't want to be around here. So pop your trunk T-Boy," I tell him, "Please."
T-Boy gives me a look. It's the hardest look in the world.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm helping you."

T-Boy pops his trunk and I put my suitcase in there. We start driving away. I turn down the music. And all of a sudden I just start breaking out crying as I turn down my phone.

T-Boy grabs me and attempts to pull me into his chest as he drives. He looks as though he's just found some type of wounded puppy.

I'm Syn-Fucking-Clinton. I'm far from a wounded fucking puppy.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I swat him away.

"You're crying. I'm trying to comfort you."

"I'm getting into character. Dumbass," I respond, "Don't say anything. Eh-erm..."
I'm crying hard at that moment as I dial 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"

Tears are running down my face.

"Oh my god! OH MY GOD HELP! OH...MY GOD!" I'm screaming at the operator.

"Sir I'm going to need you to calm down and let me know what's going on so that I can help you. Sir... Sir are you still there?"

"This boy. His name is Chaney. I think he's a radicalized terrorist! He says he's a member of ISIS! He has a plan of blowing up Trump towers in downtown DC! OH MY GOD! HE HAS BOMBS! HE HAS BOMBS ALL OVER HIS LIVING ROOM! So... how about it? You want the address?"

The car ride is awkward to say the least. Sure, I probably got Chaney added to the terror watch list. Sure he'd probably be arrested. Maybe he'd even be prosecuted. Hell. I don't know. I don't care either. Chaney had it coming as far as I was concerned. Sometimes you fuck around on people and sometimes you fuck around with the wrong motherfucker. Sometimes you just fuck with someone who has no fucks to give.

Today Sean met that motherfucker.

Hello. My name is Syn.

Behold my field of fucks to give. It is barren and empty. Like my soul.

"You not going to talk to me?" I ask T-Boy.

T-Boy doesn't look at me. I am pretty sure I've never seen him this pissed before. I'm lying. I had to see him this pissed at certain points before but I'm thinking I may have pushed him to his breaking point this time. T-Boy looks like he's done with me this time.

"Don't talk to me," he tells me.

"You taking this so personal."

"You said you changed."
"You know sometimes when people say you've changed it really means that you've stopped living your life their way," I explain to T-Boy.

T-Boy pulls over.

"STOP with your fucking stupid ass quotes that don't mean shit," T-Boy screams at me, "This is not a cartoon. You can really fuck up someone's life doing the things you do. You know what scares me even worse than that Syn?"

"Let me guess."

"No. Shut the fuck up! I'm talking!" T-Boy screams.

He's pissed. The guy literally just told me to shut the fuck up. He has this finger pointed in my face at that moment and I swear my father's ghost has risen from his grave and gone into T-Boy's body. T-Boy has veins popping out of his neck. He's really that mad. I don't want to scream back but it's annoying to have this guy screaming in my face and talking down to me. He was so condescending at times. It's annoying really.

I try to be patient, "Ok. Finish what you are saying."

"You are going to end up hurt doing the shit that you do Syn," he tells me, "You're going to end up hurt or murdered or fucking blown up or..."

"I get it..."

"No you don't," T-Boy responds and shakes his head, "That's the sad thing. You justify everything you do, but you don't know that you're wrong. You're wrong. Ok. People don't act that way. I'm scared for you and I can't deal with you anymore. There's only one person we know that can deal with you and I'm done. OK. It can't be me. It has to be him."

"Sampson."

T-Boy nods.

He whispers something soft at that moment, "Yeah."

T-Boy had to be kidding me. Sampson was T-Boy's brother. Sampson was more than just T-Boy's brother. T-Boy was my first love but...well Sampson was my big love. He was the love that just walked up beside you and knocked you the fuck out, picked you up and knocked you the fuck down again. When I went to live with T-Boy and his family things got complicated.

Sampson was that complication.

Sampson and I were in love for years. And then one day Sampson just...up and left me. I never heard from him again.

He just up and ran out of my life. Just like that. No explanation. No apologies. No calls. No texts. One day you are in love with someone and the next day they just leave you. The next day they were just gone.

And then I realize we are outside of a house...in the middle of nowhere in South Carolina.

"Um...T-Boy where are we?"

"You know where we are. Syn. You need someone who can help you more than I can. We are in the country."

"For what? I don't do the country. What the fuck do I look like? Take me back to civilization."

"No Syn. We both know there is only one person in the world that can handle you. At this point there is only one person in this world that can help you."
No...

"And if I refuse."

"I'll call the institution. I'll tell them where you are..."

This motherfucker.

"You wouldn't..." I tell him.

T-Boy nods, "Syn get out of the car."

I look over at T-Boy, "You wouldn't leave me here. Your balls aren't that big. Not in those skinny jeans..."

"It's with Sampson."

My heart is racing. Sampson was here?

I turn. It's an old school house. We drive up into this driveway. It's big. It looks like some sort slave plantation. I swear to God this is the same house from 12 years a slave. I am so confused. Why am I here? Why the fuck would T-Boy bring me here?

Sampson moved out to this place? Of all fucking places Sampson moved out to this place? He left me to come here?

And now T-Boy was bringing me to him.

Why the fuck was I so nervous?

Syn Clinton never got nervous.
Except when it came to Sampson.

There are so many questions I don't have the answers to. Why did he leave me? Why hadn't he contacted me in all these years. T-Boy opens the car door at that moment and drags me out of the car. I look over at him and I swear to God I hate T-Boy at this moment. I hate him with the biggest passion in my heart.

T-Boy knocks at the door. He knocks hard a couple times.

Then he rings the doorbell.

I hear footsteps. My heart sinks to my chest.

That's when I see someone open the door.

Sampson.

No Hello. No Hi. No greeting.

"He's your problem now," T-Boy tells his brother.

I look at Sampson. After 7 years he still looked the same. He still had that rich copper skin tone that glimmered like a shiny penny. He still had that broad chest of his and his slim waist. He was wearing nothing else but a dirty wife beater making me think he's been working in some field or something. Sampson had a goatee now. He looked older but still had that adorable "around the way" look on his face that blew me the fuck away every time I saw it.

"Syn..." is all he says.

I want to respond. I want to punch him in his fucking face for leaving me. I want to cry. I want to run back to T-Boy's car before he leaves without me. I want to do all those things but instead of doing those things I do something I don't want to do.

I lean into Sampson and I hug him. I hug him tighter than I'd ever hugged anyone in my life. I don't know what this means other than there was a part of me that would never stop loving Sampson. He was forever my Achilles heel.

Then I hear something else. Something much scarier.

"Daddy...Daddy..."
My heart stops.

No. This isn't happening. I turn and I see two kids. 1 boy and 1 girl. Then there is a woman who is standing there. She's just FUCKING standing there behind the love of my life. This bitch looks over at me hugging Sampson from behind him. He's surveying me and seeming confused.

"Eh erm..." she says.

Sampson backs off of me. The discomfort is outlined in his eyes.

"Syn. Meet my wife and kids."

To read the next chapter go to www.crushedcrown.com