(A!A is not the original A!A, so thought I'd fill out XD)
***
You're always smiling.
Man, I bet any girl wants to go out with you so that they can see that grin.
How do you stay so happy?
I'd wish I'd know. It was just another day at football, they call it soccer back home in United States. I was something like the key player, or the star. I just gave it my all, not realising that the signal that practise was over. I sat at the bench, pretending to look for something in my bag. Everyone said their goodbyes and told me to lock the room before I left.
Making sure no one was looking at me, I peeled away my sticky sports uniform, before staring into the mirror. I stared, my fingers tracing the deep purple blot on my belly, then moving into the scar on my shoulders. I winced at the memory when it all began. After Mom left for another man just months after we arrived in London, England, Dad came back drunk one night, and before I knew it, I was in the floor, naked, his voice calling me a whore, slut, bitch. Maybe it was because of my resemblance to Mom, after all, I have her blond hair and blue eyes.
I decided not to bother with it too much and headed to the showers. The soap glided my skin, as I washed it out, the concealer slides away, revealing more purple splotches and red stripes. I didn't want to go back home. Heck, when did I ever wanted to go back home? I had too in the end. Hastily putting on my clothes, a hoodie and long jeans, I made a mad dash for the bus stop. Phew. The bus came on time, and I was ho-... Wait, this wasn't home. It's just... a house. I peeked at the window, and there he was, drunk as ever.
I tried to sneak in this time. But somehow, he heard me. The next thing I knew, I was yanked across the room, landing into the kitchen counter top. I begin to cough and gasp for air.I tried to get away, but he was quicker this time around, his grip on me bruising as I was pinned down as he forced my legs to spread apart. This wasn't my father...a monster was looking at me now. My hoodie was cast aside as his hands went trough my jeans, being pooled around my ankles. His voice roared at me, 'IF YOU WANT TO BE A SLUT, I'LL FUCK YOU LIKE ONE!" I struggled to get free. "Dad! Please! Stop!" I screamed, but my neck was at his hand's mercy and so was my legs. I can't afford to have a broken bone, then everyone will notice my wounds. So I just lay there, closing my eyes. I was no match for my father. The first trust was painful, leading me to scream, but a hand silenced me. The second followed...the third... Fourth...till I lost count. To my Dad it felt like 15 minutes of pleasure and revenge. To me I was trapped in torture for almost eternity. He just made his way up the stairs, before passing out. I tried to stand and make my way to the bathroom, limping. I puked a few times, feeling the tears fresh from eyes dripping into the toilet. I cleaned myself the best I could, making sure I stopped bleeding. I just grabbed my wallet and cellphone, I want to be anywhere but here.
London is a colourful place. Not like back home in Tennessee, where lamp posts only lit up the streets and the people homey and warm. London is full of unusual people, ranging from the homeless drunks to the arrogant stockbrokers. Not to mention the lights are always brightly lit with various colours, as if trying to outwit each other.
Yet there was a place, silent from all the urban buzz. Hyde Park. I shouldn't be here, but it was far away from the noise so I can just watch the London lights. It always bring a strange satisfaction. I sighed as a sit on the bench, looking at my worn out Converse. Clutching to my hoodie, I was really thinking about sleeping here for the night. Just not there. I'm already worn out, my lungs gasping into the cold air. And of all things that had to happen to me, it rained.
I ran again, this time to a corner store. May I could get some instant noodles for a warm up, maybe I can even lie my way to get alcohol, I just need a reboot, too tired to think of anything else. But that changed as I saw my classmate, Arthur Kirkland. Not that I really know him, we are now partners for Literature, studying a novel called Clarissa. Sandy blond hair, wearing glasses and clad in a sweater vest every time. But not this time. No glasses, leather jacket with ripped acid washed jeans , and eyeliner dripping from the corner of his eyes. He was a bit annoyed, but was buying a couple of beer cans. Clearly he looked way older, as the cashier didn't bother about an ID. Before he could leave, I blinked a couple of times until my mouth touched his shoulder, whispering, "Arthur?"
***
"You play in an underground punk band?" My jaw could just drop. He never looked the type, but then again, I never really knew him personally. "So? It's what I love best." We are in the pedestrian bridge near the corner store, while he lit a cigarette. He flip his box casually. "You want one?" I hesitate. I never smoked in my life before, but I decided to take one for a stress relief. I coughed, clearly this isn't my thing. Arthur's eyes widen with shock. "You never smoked before?" I just shook my head, but still keeping the tobacco stick intertwined in my hands. His lips turned into a straight line, and a deep breath escaped his lungs. "Look, don't smoke if it isn't your thing, just put it out." Noticing my hesitation, He just chucked it away like it was an ordinary tin can. "Well, see you on Monday, Jones."
"Wait!" He looked back, an eyebrow raised. "C-Could I...spend the night at your place?" He just stared. "Don't you have anywhere to go?" I paused, not really wanting to say anything, but he had that oh-I-see face, his lungs exhaled another deep breath. "Fight with the parents eh?" I just found myself nodding. "Mind you, don't even expect my house to be clean. Take it or leave it." I don't care. My mouth opened to say "Taking."
Arthur's place was just around the corner, gritty and dark with all of it's glory. It could be those places where band members bring their groupies to fool around with. He took off the leather jacket and grabbed a tissue paper, removing the eyeliner that already causing him to look like he cried black tears. "Sorry about the mess here, with all of this gigs I've gotten lately ,there is no time to do even any house cleaning." I shook my head. "It's fine. You live alone?" He had that 'well-duh-can't-you-tell' face on him. "It's easier to get access to the school here rather than my hometown. Plus, my parents always wanted to put me in this school." He sighed deep, getting up. "I get you some clothes."
I've even forgot I was wet from the rain. I took off the hoodie I was wearing, revealing a t-shirt. I never got scars or bruises at my arms, I don't know why. I could feel the shirt clinging on as it was damp. "Shit..." Of all colours I wore I chose white. I made a reach for my hoodie, putting it on. I got quite a shock as Arthur was standing there, right behind the sofa. "Something wrong?" "N-not really no. I found some pajamas here. I assume you're bigger." I just nodded, taking the PJ's and the towel that came along with it. "How did you get that?" He just blurted the question out of the blue. My eyeos widened a little. "Get what?" "That...bruise on your back." "Met into an accident in the field." Arthur decided not to say anything and just decided to say a weak 'Oh'.
The shower at his place was even more relaxing, the water was actually soothing, my nerves being calmed down. But I really wondered how bad was I hurt this time. This isn't the first time my father raped me, you know, but it happened really rarely as most of the times I get beatings instead. I rested my head against the wall, my left hand holding the soap dish while my right hand went to check my anus. I winced, feeling not just a tear, but two. I choked for air. Was I that bad, Dad? I'm not Mom, I just have her hair and eyes because I'm her son. I'm also your son. You are not the only one devastated by Mom's selfish choice.
I turned off the shower, shaking off the excess water from my hair. I couldn't be bothered about anything else, just making sure that Arthur doesn't see me. Surprisingly the PJ's fit me, I wonder where does he get it from? . I came out, handing him the used towel. "Thanks." "You're...welcome." He took the towel, dumping it in the washing machine. "Do you...want my bed or the couch as you would call it?" I laughed a little. "Don't trouble yourself. The 'couch' is just fine." I even saw a blanket and a pillow all ready. "All right then, good night."
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Secrets of Mines (1/?) (R 18+)
(Anonymous) 2012-03-26 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)***
You're always smiling.
Man, I bet any girl wants to go out with you so that they can see that grin.
How do you stay so happy?
I'd wish I'd know. It was just another day at football, they call it soccer back home in United States. I was something like the key player, or the star. I just gave it my all, not realising that the signal that practise was over. I sat at the bench, pretending to look for something in my bag. Everyone said their goodbyes and told me to lock the room before I left.
Making sure no one was looking at me, I peeled away my sticky sports uniform, before staring into the mirror. I stared, my fingers tracing the deep purple blot on my belly, then moving into the scar on my shoulders. I winced at the memory when it all began. After Mom left for another man just months after we arrived in London, England, Dad came back drunk one night, and before I knew it, I was in the floor, naked, his voice calling me a whore, slut, bitch. Maybe it was because of my resemblance to Mom, after all, I have her blond hair and blue eyes.
I decided not to bother with it too much and headed to the showers. The soap glided my skin, as I washed it out, the concealer slides away, revealing more purple splotches and red stripes. I didn't want to go back home. Heck, when did I ever wanted to go back home? I had too in the end. Hastily putting on my clothes, a hoodie and long jeans, I made a mad dash for the bus stop. Phew. The bus came on time, and I was ho-... Wait, this wasn't home. It's just... a house. I peeked at the window, and there he was, drunk as ever.
I tried to sneak in this time. But somehow, he heard me. The next thing I knew, I was yanked across the room, landing into the kitchen counter top. I begin to cough and gasp for air.I tried to get away, but he was quicker this time around, his grip on me bruising as I was pinned down as he forced my legs to spread apart. This wasn't my father...a monster was looking at me now. My hoodie was cast aside as his hands went trough my jeans, being pooled around my ankles. His voice roared at me, 'IF YOU WANT TO BE A SLUT, I'LL FUCK YOU LIKE ONE!" I struggled to get free. "Dad! Please! Stop!" I screamed, but my neck was at his hand's mercy and so was my legs. I can't afford to have a broken bone, then everyone will notice my wounds. So I just lay there, closing my eyes. I was no match for my father. The first trust was painful, leading me to scream, but a hand silenced me. The second followed...the third... Fourth...till I lost count. To my Dad it felt like 15 minutes of pleasure and revenge. To me I was trapped in torture for almost eternity. He just made his way up the stairs, before passing out. I tried to stand and make my way to the bathroom, limping. I puked a few times, feeling the tears fresh from eyes dripping into the toilet. I cleaned myself the best I could, making sure I stopped bleeding. I just grabbed my wallet and cellphone, I want to be anywhere but here.
OP!
(Anonymous) 2012-03-30 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)Secrets of Mines (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-09 04:45 pm (UTC)(link)Yet there was a place, silent from all the urban buzz. Hyde Park. I shouldn't be here, but it was far away from the noise so I can just watch the London lights. It always bring a strange satisfaction. I sighed as a sit on the bench, looking at my worn out Converse. Clutching to my hoodie, I was really thinking about sleeping here for the night. Just not there. I'm already worn out, my lungs gasping into the cold air. And of all things that had to happen to me, it rained.
I ran again, this time to a corner store. May I could get some instant noodles for a warm up, maybe I can even lie my way to get alcohol, I just need a reboot, too tired to think of anything else. But that changed as I saw my classmate, Arthur Kirkland. Not that I really know him, we are now partners for Literature, studying a novel called Clarissa. Sandy blond hair, wearing glasses and clad in a sweater vest every time. But not this time. No glasses, leather jacket with ripped acid washed jeans , and eyeliner dripping from the corner of his eyes. He was a bit annoyed, but was buying a couple of beer cans. Clearly he looked way older, as the cashier didn't bother about an ID. Before he could leave, I blinked a couple of times until my mouth touched his shoulder, whispering, "Arthur?"
***
"You play in an underground punk band?" My jaw could just drop. He never looked the type, but then again, I never really knew him personally. "So? It's what I love best." We are in the pedestrian bridge near the corner store, while he lit a cigarette. He flip his box casually. "You want one?" I hesitate. I never smoked in my life before, but I decided to take one for a stress relief. I coughed, clearly this isn't my thing. Arthur's eyes widen with shock. "You never smoked before?" I just shook my head, but still keeping the tobacco stick intertwined in my hands. His lips turned into a straight line, and a deep breath escaped his lungs. "Look, don't smoke if it isn't your thing, just put it out." Noticing my hesitation, He just chucked it away like it was an ordinary tin can. "Well, see you on Monday, Jones."
"Wait!" He looked back, an eyebrow raised. "C-Could I...spend the night at your place?" He just stared. "Don't you have anywhere to go?" I paused, not really wanting to say anything, but he had that oh-I-see face, his lungs exhaled another deep breath. "Fight with the parents eh?" I just found myself nodding. "Mind you, don't even expect my house to be clean. Take it or leave it." I don't care. My mouth opened to say "Taking."
OP!
(Anonymous) 2012-04-13 07:58 am (UTC)(link)Secrets of Mines (3/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-19 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)I've even forgot I was wet from the rain. I took off the hoodie I was wearing, revealing a t-shirt. I never got scars or bruises at my arms, I don't know why. I could feel the shirt clinging on as it was damp.
"Shit..." Of all colours I wore I chose white. I made a reach for my hoodie, putting it on. I got quite a shock as Arthur was standing there, right behind the sofa. "Something wrong?" "N-not really no. I found some pajamas here. I assume you're bigger." I just nodded, taking the PJ's and the towel that came along with it. "How did you get that?" He just blurted the question out of the blue. My eyeos widened a little. "Get what?" "That...bruise on your back." "Met into an accident in the field."
Arthur decided not to say anything and just decided to say a weak 'Oh'.
The shower at his place was even more relaxing, the water was actually soothing, my nerves being calmed down. But I really wondered how bad was I hurt this time. This isn't the first time my father raped me, you know, but it happened really rarely as most of the times I get beatings instead. I rested my head against the wall, my left hand holding the soap dish while my right hand went to check my anus. I winced, feeling not just a tear, but two. I choked for air. Was I that bad, Dad? I'm not Mom, I just have her hair and eyes because I'm her son. I'm also your son. You are not the only one devastated by Mom's selfish choice.
I turned off the shower, shaking off the excess water from my hair. I couldn't be bothered about anything else, just making sure that Arthur doesn't see me. Surprisingly the PJ's fit me, I wonder where does he get it from? . I came out, handing him the used towel. "Thanks." "You're...welcome." He took the towel, dumping it in the washing machine. "Do you...want my bed or the couch as you would call it?" I laughed a little. "Don't trouble yourself. The 'couch' is just fine." I even saw a blanket and a pillow all ready. "All right then, good night."
OP
(Anonymous) 2012-04-21 08:53 am (UTC)(link)I can't wait for the next part, a!a! ♥