A Deep Love By James
Disclaimer
This story deals with sexual as well as romantic situations between teenaged males. Should you be offended by such material, or if you're not of the legal age to read this, then please find something else to read. Also remember to donate to Nifty so these stories can continue to remain free to the public.
Book 2 Chapter 10
Chase Johnston rode in the van anxiously awaiting the destination. He was being sent to some house that sounded from what people around him were saying, like it was located in No-Man's Land. He was scared, confused and he felt like his whole world was going from not much, to nothing at all. He looked around the van at the two men sitting in the front and wanted to say something to them. They were too largely built men who looked like body builders, with one of the men being black and the other one white. They looked nice, at least they tried to show kind looks to him when they looked at him, but when they looked around, they had nothing in their eyes that suggested that there was anything friendly about their persons. Chase also noticed the guns strapped to their left hips and holsters on their right which looked like they held stun guns, but he couldn't be sure. They periodically communicated with a couple of men through 2-way radios, at least Chase thought it was two men with whom they were speaking, but he couldn't be sure.
Michael
"Jacob," I called out from the front door of the house. "Remember what we said about running in the house."
"Sorry," he called back, then quickly slowed his footsteps. "I just wanted to get to you quickly so we could have our appointment."
He was standing before me now and I reached down and gently stroked his hair for a moment. He smiled and came closer and hugged me.
"Well, let's get to that appointment without anyone getting a doctor's visit along with it," I said and smiled. He smiled back and we went in to the room I used for the kids.
Once the appointment was over, I sat down out on the back deck and went over the notes I had on two new kids who would be coming. One kid was Noah Christianson and attached was a picture of him. He didn't look very nice at all. I don't mean nice in terms of looks, I mean pertaining to his personality. He had a hateful look he aimed at the camera and a cruel smile. His eyes flashed with electric rage and hate along with a hand that was in front of his chest and for some reason, it looked like what I saw when seeing pictures of kids in The Hitler Youth Movement who would be photographed with their right arms raised in the Nazi Salute. In the picture, he was dressed in a blue shirt that looked like the shade of blue people would wear who were in prison. I turned the cover of the file folder to open it and began reading, and I quickly found out that my uneasiness about him wasn't unwarranted.
Noah Christianson from what the file said was 16 and stood about 6-2 and was 170 LBs with all of it being muscle. He had auburn-colored hair and sea-green eyes; his skin was a creamy white and he had full lips. Under other circumstances, he would have been sexy as hell, but not under these. I read where he had been in and out of juvenile hall on several occasions for fighting with other kids and an occasional adult, but they were always smaller than him. I mean small as in size, not age. I got to the next-to-the last page and read.
"Has had several arrests for hate crimes connected to antigay ideologies and has set fire to several community centers for GLBT youths," the report read. Oh, that sounded just fine and wonderful.
I finished reading the report and another sentence jumped out at me.
"Upon medical exams, sexual abuse has been suspected, but patient denies any abuse of that nature has taken place."
This last sentence had been written in dark-red marker by my father. I closed the file folder and returned it to the records room. I located the second file on the other kid who would be coming and took it to read it.
The document was on Chase Johnston. He was 14 and from his picture, he had dirty-blond hair, light-brown eyes and skin with a bit of tan, but not too much. He had what could have passed for a smile, but there wasn't much of one; he also had a look of pain on his face, most emotional, but some that looked like physical discomfort of some sort.
I opened the file and read that he had Cerebral Palsy in only his left leg and had recently been started again on medicine to control the pain and spasms which made me wonder. Had someone, a doctor perhaps decided to discontinue the treatment at one time? Had they used another form of treatment? I knew that Botox injections could control a majority of the pain and discomfort, but I hoped that I would have an answer when I got to the section of the file detailing any sort of abuse and when I reached the section in question, I wasn't hungry after reading it.
Chase had been born to a father and mother who were just barely out of their teens and even when they became adults, they chose not to receive any help from the state on how to learn the proper ways of caring for him. They would withhold Chase's meds from him as punishment when he forgot to clean his room or if they decided to take out on him their anger and rage. The file also mentioned that Chase when he was 13 had been beaten badly on the shoulders and a couple of times on his head severe enough so that he sustained brain damage. He lost the hearing in his left ear and had what doctors believed to be permanent paralysis of the left side of his face which caused many to wonder on first impression if he had suffered a stroke.
His intellectual development didn't seem to suffer, but he showed school performance that was severely lacking in several areas, but I suspected that it might have been due in part, or if not completely to his abusive homelife. I decided to go to the part of the file that dealt with his assault since I had been skimming the file. I would read it again, more completely, but wanted to get the main details. I flipped to the part of the file which detailed the crime committed against him and read with horror.
On the night of September 27, 2005, Chase Johnston was walking to the local store for a candy bar and a fountain drink when he was approached by two older boys who were known gay bashers around the city.
0000
Chase walked along listening to his music player enjoying the sounds of Nightwish which filled his ears and his life with at least some joy. He secretly thought that the leader of the group was hot, but he kept it to himself. His cousin before she left to go back out of town gave him the music player loaded up with all sorts of rare and International Metal and Rock. Chase loved Metal, but not the National Socialist kind, neither did his cousin. With his earbuds in, he had no idea of what awaited him as he progressed on his walk that terrible evening, nor did he know how drastically his life was about to change.
He was closing the distance of the storefront, but then was grabbed roughly from behind. He tried to turn around, but his head was immobile and he then felt his earbuds being yanked from his ears. He saw with outrage that his music player was being crushed under the boot of some creep.
"Hey!" he yelled. "That's mine!"
"Shut up you faggot," the boy holding him from behind hissed in his ear. "We've seen you around these streets a few times and don't like the looks you've been giving us."
Chase thought he recognized the two boys now. He had seen them a couple of times and would smile at them, but not in any romantic or sexual way. He had always known he was gay, but wasn't out to his family, not even his cousin knew. He hoped that these boys would decide to leave him alone.
"We're going to teach your fagot ass a lesson, the boy behind him said.
"This boy's name was Phil and his friend was Max. Chase tried to break free, but Phil gripped him tighter.
"You need some help?" Max asked coming over to them.
"Yeah," Phil replied. "Let's take this piece of shit and show him what happens when fags like him try to make a fucking move on either one of us!"
"No!" Chase yelled and his mouth was quickly covered by Phil's hand which he bit down on, and hard.
"Aaaaaarrrrrrrggggggggg!" Phil roared.
"Dude!" Max yelled. "Your hand, it's bleeding!"
"Bastard!" Phil roared. "Fucking Fagot Bastard!"
"This fucking little Bitch is going down and now!" Max yelled as they carried Chase off to a location where they wouldn't be disturbed. Once there, they through Chase to the ground and Phil slapped him several times across the face.
"You'll fucking regret this you little Bastard!" Phil screamed and grabbed a small tire iron he kept hidden in his sleeve. He beat Chase violently on his shoulders.
"No!" Chase screamed through his tears. "Please stop! I'll do anything, just let me go!"
"Aww," Max said moving in close and kicking Chase between the legs. "Look Phil, he's begging us, what a pathetic little fag."
"Please, just let me go and I'll never tell anyone!" Chase yelled trying to back away from them, but there was no escape.
"You're right that you won't tell anyone," Phil said. "You know why? It's because you're going to scream!"
He kicked Chase in his left leg which hurt him all the time anyway, but with what Phil was doing to him now, the pain was hotter and more unbearable than anything he could ever imagine. He screamed long and loud with every kick and punch the two boys delivered. They kicked him a couple of more times in his balls, then turned him over and beat him several times on the backs of his legs and on the backs of his shoulders.
"Please!" he screamed. "Just stop!"
"No, were not going to do that you fag," Max said leaning close to Chase's ear. "By the time we're finished with you, you're going to be begging us to kill you, and you know what? We won't do it. We're going to beat you just enough so that you'll survive and remember us in your dreams for years to come!"
Chase screamed several more times as they took turns bending his arms and legs in positions that no human body could sustain for long. They then took a couple of turns smashing the iron on his arms and on his sides which broke several of his ribs and Phil took the bar from Max.
"Time for bed fag!" Phil yelled and beat Chase in the head two times. He then looked down at the boy's broken and beaten body. "Damn, I love a good gay bashing."
"Yeah, nothing like it!" Max said. They weren't joking either. "Come on, let's get out of here."
A hunter nearing that area of woods minutes after Phil and Max were gone was the one to find Chase. He was unconscious and bleeding from several cuts from where the skin had been broken by the iron. The hunter also saw where his head was bloody. He called 911 and once they came and took Chase away, the search for the parties responsible was on.
It didn't take long to find Phil and Max. They were both overheard two nights later bragging to one another about the crime at a small restaurant. The owner overheard what they were saying and he read about the crime in the newspaper which featured Chase's full name. He called the police and reported the two boys which quickly resulted in their immediate arrest. They were found guilty for the crime and once evidence of their other crimes was brought before the courts, they both were given life without parole, for the rest of their natural lives.
Once Chase regained consciousness, and when his mother and father found out that the boys singled him out under the belief that he was gay, they walked out of his room and when the doctor found out, he called Social Services and for the next several months, he was tossed around the foster care system and in none of the homes, did he find anyone who was kind or loving. Worsed of all, his parents once back at the house that night after walking out on him destroyed all of his clothes and everything, books, music, his TV and they dropped off his dog in a dark part of the woods behind their house where he stayed for several days before a couple of hunters saw him. They found the dog wondering around as if looking for someone and once back at the cabin the two men shared, they tried to give the dog food and water. This went on for several days which turned in to weeks, and finally on a dark and snowy night, the dog after walking away from its food and water lay down in a dark corner of the room and dropped its head on its paws, gave a soft wine of grief for his lost friend and fell asleep for the last time. He was found the next morning by the two men who lay him to rest behind the cabin. They did try to show his picture around the city, but no one knew to whom the dog belonged. When they got to the house that was Chase's old house, Chase's parents told them who's dog it had been and they let the people at Social Services know and they passed along the information to Chase's final foster family who told him in a manner that suggested that they didn't give a damn how it made him feel.
0000
Michael
I closed the file and was wiping my eyes. I thought I had seen the dark side of human nature with Larry Marks, but this was even worse. I returned back inside and returned the file to the filing room and went in to the sitting room to sit down. Josh got out of the chair he had been sitting in and reading; he walked over to me and sat beside me. I reached for him, but he was already taking me in to his arms and holding me close which was what I needed at that point.
"I heard you out there," he said softly as I let him hold me. "Was it the second kid's file you were reading? Was it Chase's?"
"Yeah," I said through another flow of tears. I told him the part about him losing his dog. I wasn't sure why that part caused me the most pain. Obviously the crime committed against him by the two boys was bad enough, but the part about the dog got to me even more.
"Sometimes I have to wonder if we're just trying to hold back the ocean with a twig," I said. "We get one kid on track and another one comes along."
"I don't want you to think like that," Josh said softly. "We're still somewhat new to this and I'm sure that we all will have these moments, but you're doing everything that you're supposed to, and I don't want you to doubt yourself for a second."
"Thanks my love," I said as my tears began to subside. We kissed a couple of times, then I went to wash my face. I couldn't meet the two new boys looking like I had just had a breakdown.
The knock sounded a little around 3:00 P.M. and I saw that Noah Christianson was the first boy to show up.
"Grate," I thought. "This should be fun."
I opened the door and saw him standing there flanked by two police officers. I wondered, but then saw the monitor around his right ankle. >From the rest of the file that I had read before moving on to Chase's, he had been given a choice by the judge after he was arrested for beating up a boy who he assumed was gay. He had beaten the boy badly enough so that metal plates had to be put in part of his face where his cheek bones had been broken beyond repair. Somehow, the boy survived with no brain damage, but it was definitely a miracle that he did. The judge asked my father and the other adults if he could come there so we could hopefully rehabilitate him, and I agreed once my dad approached me about it, but I was reluctant. I let my dad know that if he showed violence, even one time, then he would go right back to the courts and I would ask for life in prison, his age be damned. My dad agreed and so it was settled, at least starting out anyway. Once we agreed with the Courts decision for Noah to be given the ankle monitor, it was all set up for him to come to our place.
I stood there looking at Noah and he looked back with a hateful smile and a look of ill humor in his eyes.
"So, like how I look punk?" he asked with a surly tone in his voice. "Got any ideas about how to get in to my pants fag?"
"Shit," I thought in my head. "He's already starting in on us."
"Come on queer," he teased. "You so taken by my hot bod that you want to fuck me right here and now. It won't happen, I'll make sure of that."
"That'll be enough of that," I said sharply.
"Oooo," he said smiling that sadistic smile. "Trying to sound tough, but you're still a pretty-boy fag."
"I said that's enough," I said standing a little taller and coming closer to him.
"Yeah, I'm really scared of you," he said. "A little pretty boy like you going to kick my ass. I know I could take you in a fight any time any place you want, Bitch."
He said that last word and looked down at me and his eyes flashed with a hateful joy.
"Noah," I began. "You're about one more word from me having these nice police officers behind you take you back to prison, and I don't mean for the next couple of years either."
Something in my tone must have gotten to him, because he looked at me, then took his eyes quickly away from me. He looked at me again, but his face was now taking on a flushed color and that had me worried.
"Damn it," I thought. "He's going to try something right here in front of everyone."
I thought he was getting angry, but looking closer, I saw that he was getting scared.
"Okay pretty boy," he said. "I won't try nothing, but if you even try to make a move on me, I'll fuck you up bad."
"No one's going to try to come on to you here," I said softly, but firmly.
"Anyone even tries it," he continued. "I'll do things to you and anyone else who tries to make me a fag that would make even The Marquis de Sade shake in fear."
"Perfect," I thought. "A fucking sex pervert on top of it."
"Noah," I began asserting myself a little more firmly. "This is not a place where you're going to be hit on, and if anyone around here tries it, I'm telling you right now, that you're to find me and let me know immediately. Don't take it in to your own hands. This is absolutely the end of the line for you so you had better make the most of this while you're here. Are you grasping anything that I'm saying to you?"
"Yeah," he said. "How do I know you'll do something if someone tries to fuck with me here though?"
"Because I'm a man of my word, but you'll have to begin by trying to trust me," I said. "So do we have a deal?"
"Yeah, fine," he said.
I held out my hand for him to shake, but he gave me a hostel look.
"Don't push your luck pretty boy," he said flashing that mean smile. "I agreed to try to trust you, I didn't say I do already."
"Fair enough," I said. "It's the rules that I escort new residents to their rooms so I can answer any questions they have and fill out a couple of forms with them. Would you feel comfortable with me going with you to your room?"
Noah looked at me and that small, but noticeable flash of fear appeared in his eyes, but was gone as quickly as it came.
"You going to try anything?" he asked in a dark tone of voice.
"No, not at all," I said.
He nodded his head and after I assured them that things were under control, the officers left. Noah and I walked to his room and I sat down in the chair that was against the opposite wall and he sat across from me on the bed. I went over the paperwork with him, general health questions that I would give to the doctor, and a couple of questions about any psychological disorders that he might have. He said no to those questions, then I closed the folder and sat it on my lap.
"The people who brought me here said that you and some guy named Josh run this place," Noah began. "They said that you both are openly gay."
"We haven't made a secret of it," I said. "Since we created this place primarily for kids who are GLBT, we felt that we should lead by example and not hide who we are. The home is also here for any kid who needs it, regardless of if any of them are GLBT."
"What a lovely story," Noah said sarcastically.
"If that's how you want to think of it, then you're free to do so," I said.
"They also said that you do one-on-one counseling sessions with the kids here," Noah continued. "They said that it was you and Josh along with a few other guys close to your age."
"Yeah, that's correct," I replied.
"So when do you and I start?" he asked.
"I'd like to start with you tomorrow morning if you don't mind," I said.
"Fine," he said looking down at his hands which were clenched tightly in his lap in to hard and large fists. I didn't like that. It looked like he was readying himself for a fight.
"Noah?" I said. "Is there something you wanted to add?"
"Maybe in our session tomorrow, you can try to make me understand why guys would want to fucking be fags with each other."
"If you really want to know anything about homosexuality," I began. "I can certainly talk with you about it, but I have to ask that you stop calling people like us fags and queers. Can you try to do that?"
"Fine," he said annoyed. "I'll try."
"One more thing," I continued. "My name is not "Pretty Boy", it's "Michael". If you can call me by my actual name, I think we'll be okay."
"Yeah, whatever," he said.
Silence soon filled the room, then Noah spoke again and I saw that he was looking at me and his eyes were bright with tears that hadn't fallen yet.
"I'm just going to tell you the fucking truth!" he said through clenched teeth, and I saw that he was quickly losing the fight with not to cry. "I fucking hate people, it isn't even so much gay people, even though I beat the shit out of several, but I just fucking hate everyone. Why don't people like you ever step in to help until it's too late!"
I went over to stand beside him.
"No!" he said sharply and I jerked back. "Don't even put your fucking hands on me, not ever!"
His tears were flowing fast and free now. He had his hands over his face and he was bent over and he moved so that his head was held in his arms and he was shaking with sobs, rage and a lot of fear.
"Noah," I began softly. "I really do want to help you. I don't know why people didn't step in to help you until it was too late, but I'm not a part of the more corrupt parts of Social Services, so I can't apologize for them, but I can say that I'm here now and I am someone who cares and who will try to help all that I can, any way that I can. If you truly are worried about guys trying to do sexual things with you that you don't want to do, then I'll protect you from that, but I can assure you that none of that will happen here."
His crying was slowing, then his tears were gone. He wiped his eyes with tissues that were by the bed on the bedside table, then he looked up at me.
"Okay," he said. "I'll give you a try, but that's all I can give you right now."
"Okay," I said. "That's all I ask for."
He surprised me then by standing up and walking over to me. He held out his hand and I stood there looking at it.
"It's my hand, not some fucking freak show from Outer Space," he said with the hint of a smile on his lips. I reached out and took it and shook it. His hand was large and soft, about as large as Robin's hand, but even softer. He then withdrew it once we shook and went back to sit down.
"If you want to sit next to me, that's fine," he said looking at me.
"Thank you," I said.
I sat down next to him, but far enough so that he would feel safe. He looked at me for a long moment, then looked away. I then remembered what he said a few minutes before when we were all standing by the door, when he made that comment about The Marquis de Sade. I couldn't help but ask him about it.
"You don't really read stuff by The Marquis de Sade do you?" I asked.
"Fuck no," he said looking up at me. "This fuckhead that was staying with my dad and I a few years ago used to read that shit. I heard that the freak liked to write shit in his stories about guys fucking one another and crap like that."
"I've read about Sade's works," I began. "From what I read about them, whatever sex he wrote about occurring between male characters was between men and young boys, and it was straight up rape, not anything consensual in the least."
"So you're one gay guy who doesn't think man-on-boy is hot?" Noah asked with a sick look on his face.
"If you're implying that all GLBT men like to have sex with children, I need to correct you on that right now," I said. "You might not think so right now, but there really is a difference between a man who rapes a boy and two men of the same adult ages who have agreed to one another to be boyfriends and to live with one another and if anything you'll find more hate of child molesters from people who are GLBT than some people who are straight."
Noah looked at me trying to digest all of what I had just said.
"Wow dude," he began after a moment. "You're going to have to let me sit with all this shit for a while. I'm just like, I don't even know what."
He stopped and looked down at his hands which were now lying flat on his lap.
"I can understand," I said. "It's a lot to take in, but I'll help you and so will the other guys."
"So you really do promise that you'll look out for me if anyone tries any bullshit on me?" he asked looking up at me again.
"I absolutely promise," I said holding out my hand. He took it and squeezed it, but not hard, then eased up on his grip. He then let go of my hand and situated himself so that he could lay down.
"I'll go if you want to rest for a bit," I said. "I'm sure it was a long day."
"Yeah, it definitely was," he said.
He took off his shoes and socks and then turned on his side with his back facing the wall that the side of the bed was pushed up against. I turned to the door and started towards it.
"Michael?" he called out with his head raised up to look at me. I turned around and faced him.
"Yeah?" I said softly "What is it Noah?"
"You actually talked to me like I'm a person, not just a piece of shit," he said holding back a sob. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I said walking over to him and holding out my hand. He took it and held on tightly.
"Michael," he began and this time the deep sob escaped, then he was crying again. "Michael, I'm afraid. I don't know what to do and I don't know who to trust. I'm afraid all the time."
He cried harder and I looked down at him.
"I know," I said. "I know you're afraid. I could tell as we stood at the door a few minutes ago. I don't know all of your story yet, but I think you should have a second chance as well, but once we give you the advice and tools to help yourself, it's up to you to use them. We can only go so far. What you're feeling right now is normal and there's nothing bad or shameful about crying or being scared."
He then pulled his hand from mine quickly, then reached for me. I at first thought that he was going to try to hurt me in some way, but he put his arms around my waist and I bent down so he could hold on to my upper body and I held him close while he let out all of the feelings that were coming to the surface. It wasn't over for him; he would have many more days of crying to do, but he was at least getting some of it out of his system now.
"It's okay Noah," I said as he held on to me. "I'm here for you now. You're safe here."
After he calmed down and stopped crying, we let go of one another and after he was asleep, I left to go back in to the sitting room. That whole event had taken a lot out of me.
Author's Notes.
In case anyone is wondering, The Marquis de Sade and his writings will not play a part in this story. I simply used him as a way to show how dysfunctional Noah's life had become, that Noah would think that little of his fellow humans because of what he had been through, which lead to him inflicting most of it on to others. Unless we start understanding the rage and pain that drives the actions of people in the reality based world on whom Noah is based, then this cycle of violence and hate will continue.
To explain is not to excuse and to get down to the core of a problem is not to coddle or condone. The mainstream media might believe that we don't have to understand a person's actions, but I don't support the filth and trash that passes for journalism or the mainstream media in this day and age.
All of that being said, I hope everyone is doing well, and I'll see everyone in the next chapter.