Date: Mon, 13 Mar 2006 20:10:24 -0800 (PST)
From: Cris Ray <yarnwahssirc@yahoo.com>
Subject: Paper Tears: 1

Note from author: The usual.  If you aren't 18 or older, not
permitted to read this in the area in which you live, or find
gay based fiction offensive, please leave now.  It's been
almost a year since I tried writing something like this.  This is
on a level that I've never tried before and as such, please be
patient with installments.  Also, please e-mail comments and
suggestions to: yarnwahssirc@yahoo.com.  Enjoy!

     "Craig.....oh God, are you alright?  What the hell
happened?", asked Mark, the closest thing I ever had to a
best friend.

     I stood at his doorstep, covered in bruises, a bulging
black eye, and small cuts, some still dripping with blood even
2 hours later, and while I wasn't sure, probably a fractured rip
too.  I had two bags that had the basics and a few more
things to get by or things that I refused to keep around for
him to destroy.  It was just past midnight on New Years.

     I opened my mouth to speak but hours later I was still
beyond words.  Tears started falling as those images kept
appearing.  My mind knew what had happened but my heart
still failed to register everything.

     I finally took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry for
bothering you, but could I stay over, just for tonight?".

     "Yeah, sure man.  Come on in", said Mark.

     As I slowly made my way in, I noticed the expression on
his face and instantly felt my conscience telling me that
coming here might not have been such a good idea after all.
His face contained a mixture of confusion, worry,....and a
look of genuine care.  Gah, that wasn't something I hadn't
seen in so long.  I fought to hold the tears back.  If he could
care, why the hell couldn't my dad?  As he led me to a guest
room in silence, I knew that in a few seconds, he'd bombard
me with questions and I'd have to answer them.  I'd have to
re-live what he did to me.  I'd have to drag Mark into a world
he didn't deserve to see.  As Mark led me into a plain cream
colored room, I put my things down and braced myself for
what I'd have to do.  We both sat down on the green
comforter of a relatively new looking bed and I released a
long held sigh.

     "Craig, you gotta fill me in.  What happened to you?",
Mark finally asked.

     After a few moments I finally began to speak, trying to
hide the pain that I knew was in my voice.  "It's all my fault.  I
thought being gay was okay but it's not.  Gah I'm just some
screwed up faggot.  I shouldn't have told him.  I thought after
Tye's wedding though, he wouldn't care.  I mean, anyone
who goes to a gay wedding isn't supposed to care.  I was so
sick of having to hide it from him.  To have to change who I
was every time I was around him.  To have to feel like some
sick little liar all the time.  I guess telling him when he's at
home drunk doesn't help".

     "Who though", Mark interrupted gently.

     "My...dad", I said, finally getting it out.  "Gah, he
was so angry when I told him.  His eyes...oh my goodness
they had so much anger in them I didn't know what to
expect.  I should have ran, but I'm just so damn stupid.
Instead, I waited for my whole world to come crashing down,
and it did, harder than I would have ever imagined.  The first
thing he did was punch me in my eye, hard.  He didn't even
say anything.  He just kept punching.  I finally tried to run, but
he took a hold of me and threw me across the room.  I
landed on my stomach.  I wanted to get the hell away from
him, but I was too afraid.  I remember hearing him unbuckle
his pants and I thought he was going to hit me with his belt.
Instead he came up behind me and......".

     I couldn't keep going.  It was too hard.  Why did he
have to do that?  I looked down, not wanting to chance
looking in Mark's eyes.  I didn't like him seeing me like this.  I
tried to speak again but small moan escaped as Mark gently
rubbed my back, still filled with pain after what he did next.
After a few minutes, I was finally able to go on.

     "He pulled down my pants and then flipped me over
really hard on my back.  I felt like it was breaking.  He put his
mouth up to my face and said,"You stupid faggot.  I want to
see your ugly ass face when I give you what you damn
queers are always wanting".  I could still smell the whiskey
on his breath.  It was the most putrid thing I'd ever smelt.
That was after I had noticed for the first time he had his
pants down to his ankles.  I knew what he was about to do
and tried backing away, but he held me in place.  I started
screaming for help.  He walked a few inches to the coffee
table and came back with a pocket knife.  He got back in the
position he was in and held it to my throat.  He told me if I
screamed again, he'd slit my throat.  So I just shut up.  I kept
quiet as I watched him slowly invade my body.  God, it hurt
so much.  I tried telling him to stop and he just laughed.  He
didn't stop, he wouldn't stop.  Every time he came back in,
he'd punch me somewhere.  I finally passed out", I said as
the images filled my head again.

     Mark just sat there with a blank expression.  I knew it
had been a mistake coming.  My crying became so
uncontrollable that I started to shake.

     "I'm s..s..sorry.  I shouldn't have c...c...c...come", I said,
sobbing as I stood up and began to walk away.  Mark stood
up and pulled me into a  hug.

     As I cried into his shoulder, I quietly said, "What did I do
that made him hate me so much?".

     After what seemed like an eternity but really only about
five minutes of silence, Mark finally broke the hug and I
realized that he'd been crying too.

     "You'd better get cleaned up; you look like hell", said
Mark with a small smile as he quickly wiped away his tears.
"Bathroom's down the hall to your left".

     "Thanks....for everything", I said as I pulled out the only
set of cloths I had enough time to get before he noticed.  I
planned to throw what I had on away when I got the chance.
It was just another constant reminder of the night's events.

     As I walked into a soft green colored bathroom, I caught
sight of myself for the first time that night in a small mirror
above the sink.  My left eye was practically swollen shut and
my right eye was bloodshot from all the crying I'd done that
night.  My bottom lip was swollen and my left cheek bruised
from where he had slammed my head against the floor.  My
usually fair complection shone a soft blood red.  As I took off
my cloths, a small whimper escaped.  I was covered in
purple and black bruises from my chest to my thighs.  I
glanced at my back through the mirror and saw it had a few
cuts.  As I reached down to turn on the water, I noticed my
arm had been cut and was still bleeding slightly.

     After adjusting the water slightly, I let the cascade of
warm water wash the dry blood away.  It hurt a little as it
gently caressed my aching body.  After a few minutes, I
noticed blood was coming from where he had penetrated
and I felt my eyes for the fifth time fill up with tears that night.
I felt myself shake as I realized how worthless I was.  I had
to have done something for him to hate me so much.  I must
have deserved it somehow.  God wouldn't allow something
like that to happen if I hadn't done something, anything at all
to deserve it.

     After about ten minutes, I finally stepped out of the
bathroom, still feeling dirty.  No matter how hard I tried, no
matter how much soap I used, I couldn't wash away the
stench or pain he left on me.  I couldn't wash away how
worthless and stupid I felt.  When I got to the guest room, I
noticed Mark had left me some pajama bottoms and a t-shirt
to sleep in instead of what I had on now.  After changing, I
laid my head on the pillow and was finally able to escape a
world I wasn't even sure of anymore.