Date: Thu, 16 Aug 2001 20:37:27 -0400 From: W.B. Harrell <wbharrell@hotmail.com> Subject: In The Arms of An Angel Chpt 3 In The Arms Of An Angel Chapter 3 By: W.B. Harrell Disclaimer: This story should speak for itself disclaimer-wise. Just imagine it without the happy occurence in this chapter. Thanks to Matt (again) for support, along with chilly and mulder=. You guys don't be shy. Send in your stuff. Now, down to the nitty gritty. Wisdom for today: Say no to inbreeding: Ban country music. Dedication: To Chaz, namesake of the new character and my first crush. I'll never forget how I almost made a fool of myself and you made it alright. I love you man. Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Goooood Morning, Macon, it's Thursday, the 12th of August and you are listenting to WOKA, the morning show. Don't struggle out of bed this morning kiddies, school is out!!! I bet all the kids in the world would worship the creater of inservice days, but remember kiddies, first week progress reports are tommorrow and... Tommorow was today and today was yesterday. And this morning I was feeling rested and relaxed. It's amazing what a high-intensity jack-off session will do for your sleeping habits. I struggled out of bed and slammed off the annoying voice of Wildman McCan. I struggled into the shower and let the hot spray wake me up a bit. Not a lot, just enought to unglue my eyes and get me halfway oriented. I pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and my favorite N*Stink (that's what it says) tee-shirt and headed downstairs. I managed to locate the Wheaties and milk and sat down to a light breakfast. I didn't dare try to manage the toaster this early in the morning lest I burn the house down. My mom came into the kitchen in her favorite pink terry robe and mumbled a shallow good morning. Mom and I are *not* morning people. She poured a cup of coffee and sat beside me. Dad bustled in already dressed for work in his dress shirt, tie, and khakis. "Morning all," he said cheerfully. Mom and I groaned in return. "Well, I better go to work, *someone* in this family's got to pay the bills," he said cheerfully as he ruffled mom's hair. She muttered a curse to him and nursed her coffee sulkily. I nodded to him. "You need a haircut, kid," he said for what had to be the fifth time this week. I raised a quizzical eyebrow and returned to my Wheaties. Dad gave up on trying to wake us up and walked out the door. He slammed it for good measure. "Mmmphs phuger," muttered Mom. "What?" I asked. "Pass the sugar," she clarified annoyingly. "Whatever," I passed her the sugar. (I eat sugar on my wheaties.) She spooned two tablespoons into her coffee and pulled another swallow. By the time I finished my Wheaties, I was awake. Mom had finished her coffee and put some toast in the toaster for herself, being sure to set the darkness on Black. I never understood mom's obsession with black toast, she always ended up scraping it. Since there was no school, I went to my room and switched on my new Playstation 2. I was playing this phat game called "Summoner". It is like Final Fantasy 7 and 8, only with more spells, more character choices, and cooler graphics. I sensed that I was pretty near the game when my character's best friend shows up. He said that it was time to battle the final boss's four dark minions. He conjured up a spiritual fire and told me to put my summoning rings in. I did. (The game really gives you no choice.) The were immediatly destroyed, then, they appeared on his hand. He started pounding me with my most powerful spells, and here I am with things like Fire 1 and Bolt 2 and a Glass Sword, which helped a little, but not much. I soon got thoroughly disgusted and shut the game off without bothering to save. I turned on MTV. An old Sarah McGlaughlin song was playing. "In the arms of an angel, far away from here, in the arms of an angel, you will find your comfort here." I sat back and thought for a moment. That song touched something inside of me. I felt something inside of me snap. I suddenly realized how really alone i was in this world. I had no one. Sure, I had my parents, but...parents? What were they when what I wanted was love. I started crying. I couldn't stop. I was so alone, so lost, so utterly afraid of what my life would turn out to be. Would I move and come out? Would I be someone's piece of ass the rest of my life? Would I find true love, or would I be closeted and miserable for the rest of my life. I trully did not know what to think. My only friend who knew the truth about me scared me daily because she threatened to tell everyone and their brother that I was a fag. I had nearly forgotten how and what circumstances I had told her under. *** It was *the* party of the year. All the "cool" freshmen were there, partying their asses off and generally making the same term of themselves. I was there with the whole of them. I didn't notice when the fifth of vodka was used to freshen the punch...until it was too late. By 11:00, I was in the bathroom puking my guts out and crying like a spanked baby. Callie came in, said sorry, and went back out. I guess she heard me crying and came back in. She was really comforting. We rounded up a toothbrush and I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I turned around and looked at her. I was meaning to thank her when she kissed me. I mean, really putting her tounge into it kissing me. I just stood there stiff as a board (my body you perv, not my dick!). She pulled away and stared at me. "What's wrong?" she asked. I poured out my soul to her. She looked me square in the eye and kissed me again. This time on the cheek. She told me that my secret was safe with her and not to worry about a thing. In that one single moment, I felt secure with my sexuality and at ease with myself... *** "Jason Lance Porter, come down here before I drag you," screamed my mother. I shook myself out of my daydream and hurried downstairs. Every guy knows that when Mom uses the middle name, she means biz. I didn't know what in the hell could be going on. I followed her voice to...Oh God! I knew. She was in the office. With the computer. With the record that I had went to a gay porn site. "OH SHIT!!!" I whispered violently, my heartbeat accelerating past the normal rate. I tryed to think up a good excuse and couldn't find one. "What in holy fucking hell is this!!!" screamed my mom as she pointed to the picture of the two guys. "Whoa, ughhh, I'm thinking that might be something Wil accessed when he was here last. My mom lept up and slapped me hard. "Don't you feed me that shit!" she screamed, "this was dated from yesterday!" I didn't know what to say. "Mom...I...I...uh, I really don't know," I muttered, struggling to keep my composure. "Jesus H. Christ on a GODDAMN totem fucking pole!" she screamed, "another one of my sons is a queer!" "Don't call me that!" I yelled back at her. She threw aside the office chair that stood in front of the computer and grabbed me by the front of my tee-shirt. "If you've touched Max or hurt him in any way, or gave him the idea that he's gay, I'll kill you with my bare hands," she said coldly. This wasn't my mother, this was some ice queen who had taken over my mom's body and was killing me from the inside out. "Mom, he's my fucking brother for crying out loud!" I exclaimed. She slapped me again. "DO NOT TALK TO ME IN THAT MANNER, I AM STILL YOUR MOTHER!!!" she screamed, "Wait here while I call your father." I knew that I was in deep shit and ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. I collapsed on the bed, letting a torrent of tears stain my pillows. I pulled them, the comforter and the sheets around my head, trying to shut out all my pain. It didn't work. I felt like I had been run through with a jagged-edged sword. Soon, I heard my father's Ford F-350 diesal as it rounded the driveway. The door slammed open. If you think a door can't do that, it can. "WHERE THE FUCK IS THE LITTLE FAG!" screamed my dad. I felt another little part of me die. "He locked himself in his room," my mom replied. "I'm going to beat the queerness out of him!!!" yelled my dad in pure hatred. "Don't do anything drastic, Jim," said my mom, "I'm sure that there are some good physchiatrists here in Macon who could do something; maybe it's a faze or a...hell I don't know, but we've got to get him some help." I don't know which hurt me more. My mom's statement, in her cool, calculating, normal voice. Or my dad's screaming, raging, violent yells. They both tore out what was left human in me. I let out a gutteral animal yell. I unlocked my door and tore down the hall. My dad was coming up the stairs. I lept into him, knocking him down the stairs. I think I twisted my ankle, but I limped as fast as I could out the door. My mom moved out of my way with a look of horror on her face. It was worse than any slap that she had ever given me. I ran, I don't remember where, but apparantly, I ran into the street. I heard a blast, then a screech. In an instant, I felt free, I was flying, nothing could hurt me. Then came the fall. When I hit the warm asphalt and felt the pain in my side, my chest, my whole body, I knew. I knew that I was going to die. I felt the back of my tee-shirt go wet all of a sudden. Then, I felt my arms get wet. I didn't hurt, pain was nothing, just another distraction from everyday life. I heard a scream and a car door shut. Two car doors. Muffled voices...muttering about sorrow and lack of sight on their part. A lightly deep voice, just touched by the changing hand of pubert seemed to carress the air. "Oh, God, why are you torturing me like this?" it asked. I should be the one saying that, who could this be? Suddenly, a shining face leaned over me and pulled me into its...his arms. He began rocking back and forth. I couldn't make out anything but his eyes. So lovely, where had I seen them before? Suddenly, the song that I had heard earlier began to play back in my mind. I used the last of my strength to sing. "In the...arms...of...angel...far awaaay from here, in the arms...*coughcough*...of an angel...find..comfort......hereee. Then, a dark, cold blackness seeped over me and hot tears washed the blood from my face. Wow. I'm so glad to get that out! I've always felt that if I told my parents about myself, that's what the outcome would be like. Only, without meeting an angel. Now you know what I mean by the above disclaimer. It is important to clear that history and temporary internet files, kiddos. I have to recover myself,now. Emotional writing always drains me. I think this calls for a trip to the student union for some honey cookies and milk. E-mail me.