Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction; any resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidence. This story may contain sexual material not suitable for those under the age of 18, but please note that this is not a story about sex, if you are looking for jerk off material then read something else.
I Am John Chapter 1
I spit red in the snow. Blood. There will be more.
"You little fag, put up a fucking fight!" slurred the man in front of me as he picked me up and swung again. I saw his fist coming at my face. Connection. The vision in my left eye immediately went blurry. Tears. I'm so cold. I had been sleeping in nothing but my boxers when my father had come home drunk again. It was worse this time; he didn't particularly appreciate the new ring in my lip. I felt again, in my side this time. I wasn't sure what was going on anymore; just the feeling of sharp pains all over as blow after blow landed on my already tender body. Already tender from the beating earlier, not from him, but a couple of guys at school who liked to beat up on the fags. I'm 16, a junior and my life is about to change. I can't handle it anymore. I scream.
"Fuck you!" I scream it again and again as I try to get up, as I try to get away. He grabs for me and misses, falling in a drunken stupor. I take my chance. I run. And I don't stop.
I can't run anymore. I stumble. I'm cold. I get up. I walk. I stumble. I get up. I walk some more. Change of scenery. I'm in the city. It's cold. It's snowing. I'm in the city. I try to grab on to and hold to these facts, these trivial points of existence. Fight the darkness. I can't give in. I stumble again. I don't get in. The darkness wins.
The soft light filters through the dirty broken windows in an abandoned building. Somewhere in the city, I remember. I'm in the city, it's cold, I'm bleeding. No. I'm not bleeding anymore. I'm under some rags, and there is a boy sitting next to me.
"Don't move," he says. I oblige, it's not as if I could move had I wanted to. He stares, I stare back. The darkness takes me again.
Its night, I know because the light from the windows is gone. I'm in the city, I'm cold, I'm no longer bleeding, I can't move, and there is a boy staring at me. I fight tears, they come anyways. Darkness again.
Light. It's day again. I'm in the city, I can't move, there is a boy staring at me, and I'm no longer cold. He is above me pouring hot liquid down my throat, I can't taste it, I can only taste the blood, I can only see the blood, I can only feel the blood. More darkness.
"What's your name?" The strange boy asks me. He looks to be about my age. Black hair, tight dirty jeans, and black hoodie, the kind of kid I would have hung out with in school.
"I am John."