Date: Sat, 22 Apr 2000 22:05:30 EDT From: Justin69SK@aol.com Subject: Justin's Story Chapter 15, Part II My Time Away ------------ Justin's Story Part II--My Time Away Chapter 15 April 21, 2000 Written By: Justin Case ------------ Disclaimer: This story is about young gay love. It contains sexually graphic material and if you shouldn't read it because of the laws of your community, you know what to do. This story is a creation of fact and fiction; it is semi-autobiographical. Names have been changed to protect the guilty and the innocent. This story is the property of the writer and he maintains the rights to publication. If you find this material offensive, read the story; you may learn something. I ask you to open your heart to others, and your mind. ------------ Words from our author: HEELLLOOOO!!!! My friends. It's my turn, my time. My soapbox, you can read or fast forward. Today is Good Friday and Passover 2000; I want to wish each of you the appropriate sentiments. God Bless us all. I have not written since last week; my fingers are eager to go. The words are jumbling around in my brain. I have seen things this week that I wanted to say, and heard things I thought worthy to report. They seem to have left my brain, now as I sit here to write. I want to thank you all for your kind letters; I have received close to six hundred since I began to post my work, just under a month ago. Most have been heartfelt thanks. Your signs of affection have humbled me. I want us all to ponder for a moment. I received a rather perplexing IM last night, and it made me think. The gentleman was from Phoenix, Arizona; he wanted to ask me about JT's demise. I have written several of you that JT and I had a falling out of sorts; I closed the chapter with the note: JT was really not murdered, only metaphorically in my mind. The Phoenix man tried to provoke me into an argument over creativity. I realized that many of us, because of our sexual orientation, take our frustration out on other people. I asked this man from Phoenix if he had this problem getting along with everyone, because if he does he should take a look at his own behavior. I guess what I am trying to say is, if you find yourself in many verbal conflicts or arguments, it isn't always the other guy. More than likely it's your behavior that brings it out of the other people. My prayer for the holiday is simple. I pray we all focus on our own behavior, and practice gentleness with the world in which we live. I pray for less contempt. I pray for acceptance of who we are. I pray we act acceptable. I pray we act less contemptuous. I pray we all just get along. God Bless! ------------ It took me a couple days to get to Tommy's in New Orleans, Louisiana. I hitched rides from Austin to Houston, and then bussed the rest of the way. I remember thinking to myself, I was going to find new beginnings. I wanted to find a new way of life, I wanted to leave the drugs behind. My heart ached for Mark. I thought of his family. I had never met them, but I could sense they were loving people. They had to be; Mark was such a gentleperson. I felt some guilt over his death. I was not in the best frames of mind and I had no business hitchhiking. I look back now and realize I was surviving, not living. I was making all the wrong choices. I don't remember how many rides I got from Austin to Houston. The only ride I remember was the last one I accepted. I was near Houston; it was early evening. I saw the red Cadillac as it pulled to the side of the road to pick me up. It was an Eldorado convertible, driven by a middle-aged man. I got in to the fancy car. The leather upholstery was saddle brown, just like my Sebring's. It brought back memories of a better time. I looked to the guy driving; he had light brown short wavy hair. He had big green eyes and a boyish look to his features. He was a slight man, dressed in Levis and cowboy boots, with a cowboy shirt. He seemed real nice. He asked me about my age, and where I was from. You know the usual conversation. There was a hardbound book on the front seat, between us. I noticed he kept fumbling with the book with his right hand as he drove. He had a beautiful gold ring with a jade stone on his right ring finger. The conversation drifted to sex. He asked me if I had ever had sex. I told him I had. He began more probing questions, how many times? When was my first time, when was the last time? I began to get uncomfortable. I realized how powerless I was. What would I do if this guy were some crazy man? I began to feel the fear swell up inside of me. He turned the book over; it was titled "Human Sexuality". "This is a great book, you should read it," the man in the red Cadillac said to me. "Hey, I know, you could come spend the night with my daughter and me, she's about your age," he continued. I began to tremble. I didn't know who he was; hell, I didn't even know where I was. I was thinking this could be my last night on earth. "Uh uh.. well, maybe some other time.. uh um.. my Aunt is expecting me; she sent me money to the Western Union for a bus to New Orleans. She's expecting me tomorrow," I said. I could feel my body temperature rise. He made me so uncomfortable; he was just too kind. "No, really, you come and spend the night with us. It will be fun. You'll like my daughter," he said. I noticed his hand on the book was shaking. He was nervous, he had other intentions, and I didn't know him from Adam. "I wish I could, but I'm sorry. Hey, why don't you just let me out at the next corner?" I said, praying to myself, please let me be all right. "I insist, you come and stay with my daughter and me." He was beginning to get braver, his voice raised an octave. "No, I need to get to my Aunt's. Just let me out," I said. "Listen, I live real close to the bus station. You come over and, if you want, you can call your Aunt from my place," he said as he began to accelerate the speed of the car. I was thinking how fucked I was. I began to hope a red light or stop sign would appear so I could jump out of the car. I saw one; a red light was just about a block away. I prayed it would be red when we got there. It was. I jumped and ran, never looking back. I don't know if he had a daughter and really was trying to be nice or not, I just know he made me very uncomfortable. What if he was some murderer and that was his ploy. How did I know? I found a diner and went in to ask directions to the bus station. It turned out I was only a block away when I made my escape from the red Cadillac. He either lived nearby or we were going somewhere else. I put it from my mind, I just hoped he didn't follow me to the bus station. I decided to stay in the diner for a little while, just in case. I walked to the bus station and saw a pay phone, so I called Tommy. I told him I was broke and in Houston. I was on my way to see him, and what happened with Mr. Cadillac. He told me to go to the bus station and he would send me a ticket over the phone lines. I was so grateful. I got to the bus station, picked up my ticket, and sat down and cried. He was about fifteen, I guessed. He was a cute boy with dirty blonde hair, and had the prettiest brown eyes. He was wearing a really neat pair of American Eagle jeans with a nice Hawaiian style Union Bay shirt. It was a button down, short sleeved; the colors accented his nice tan. He had a nice tan pair of Airwalks on his tiny feet. He approached me and sat in the seat next to me. I watched him. I needed a friend. I hoped he was taking the same bus I was. I wanted to be near another human being. I wanted to feel safe. "Hey, Charlie's my name and smoking pot is my game. You wanna match up?" my new friend opened our conversation with. He smiled at me as he said it. He had thin lips and nice teeth. "Justin, Justin Case." I reached my right hand to his and did the teen shake. I grabbed his hand in mine and held it, released, and slapped palms with him. He was right on time with my movements. "I'd love to but I don't have any pot," I said and looked into his eyes and returned his smile with my own. "That's cool, you look upset. I saw you crying. Why don't you come with me and smoke a joint? You look like you need one," Charlie said. He was so cute and his voice was so soft, not quite manly yet. We went outside and smoked a joint. I felt good to make the connection with Charlie. He told me he was going to Lake Charles, Louisiana, he was returning from his grandparent's house. I began to think about my grandparents. We ended up on the same bus, and sat together. I remember wanting him so badly, I wanted to express a love to him. I wanted to feel love expressed to me. I was afraid, and didn't know how to broach the subject. I didn't want to lose his friendship. He was so cute; I just wanted to cuddle with him. He told me all the highs and lows of his life. He told me about getting ripped off buying pot. He told me about the best pot he had ever smoked. He told me about his bitchy mother, and his great father. In about an hour I knew his entire life story. Charlie invited me to spend the rest of the weekend with him and his family. I brought the subject around to jerking off. I wanted to see what my chances were with him. I took his invitation as the open door. It was a great time. He supplied me with a dry wash cloth so I could relieve myself on his couch as he slept in his bedroom that night. The next day his Dad asked me to join them at a family barbecue. We had a great time. Charlie didn't mind my sexuality, but he didn't want to try it. We hung with his older cousin and rode around in his cousin's van, getting stoned. I couldn't believe how well I was accepted into these people's lives. This was what southern hospitality must be all about. I arrived at the New Orleans bus terminal Monday afternoon, that first week of December last year. Tommy was there to greet me. He was all smiles. He was a cool guy about thirty something. He had dark hair and a saunter when he walked. His Cajun accent was way fun to listen too. He had a nice smile, and nice brown eyes. He was only about five foot six. He had big hands that were very rough feeling. He greeted me with a big hug. He took me to his home. I met his wife and his son. His wife's name was Violet, the second one I ever met, my aunt being the first. His son's name was Steven. His house was built on stilts, and the street had homes on one side and a bayou on the other. He actually lived in a town called Ycloskey. Ycloskey was actually an island on the very end of Route 1. You crossed a drawbridge over the bayou to get to the one-road island. The island was four miles long, and Tommy and Violet lived two miles from the drawbridge due south. Violet was a short little thing. She was only five feet two, had long red hair. She wore glasses that made her look real intelligent. I found out she not only looked, but also was very smart. She was the glue that held her young family together, the voice of logic and reason. I grew to love her dearly. Stevie was a neat kid; he was twelve. He loved to fish for alligator fish and feed them to his dog. He loved crayfishing too; he used to take me out in the skiff fishing. He was four feet six, had brown hair and always wore a smile on his face. The first week I was there I made a run with Tommy in his eighteen wheeler. I had a great time. We slept together in the cab; it came complete with a bedroom of sorts. The run we made was from New Orleans to Memphis, Tennessee and return with a full box; we left the two days after I got there. It was the only trip I made with him during my three-month stay. Violet and Tommy decided they would rather I stay around the house while they both worked, to keep Stevie occupied when he wasn't in school. Tommy told Violet he felt better having me around when he made his runs, so there would be a man around the house. I really didn't mind. I met some boys in the neighborhood, one in particular. I had to have my needs met. After all, I was in the prime of my sexual life. His name was Bert; he was a hunk. He stood five foot eight and weighed in at one hundred and ten. He had dark brown hair that he kept fairly short. He had these blue eyes that lit up his whole face. He had a flattened nose, and thick lips. He had a dark complexion that made his smile stand out. Oh, those lips, his luscious lips. I grew very fond of Bert. Talk around the little neighborhood was he was bisexual. I swear to God he that could have anyone he wanted, male or female. I just wanted him to want me. There was a small group I hung with - Perry, Junior, Kurt, Billy, and his younger brother CJ. We ran the street; we were all sixteen and seventeen, except CJ; he was only fifteen. During the day I would stay home and do house work. At two thirty the boys would come by for a couple games of bouray, a coon-ass card game I became very good at. I would get up every morning and start breakfast in the kitchen while Stevie and Violet got ready for work and school. I got up at six and they got up just after me. I always had a hot breakfast ready for them. I was beginning to feel like a member of the family. I had finally found the comfort I had longed for. It was about the middle of January, Tommy was on a run. Violet, Stevie, and I were sitting around the table watching the occasional shrimp trawler or tug pass by on the bayou. The dining room had a large window that looked over the road and across to the bayou from the house on stilts. We heard their steps coming up to the back door. It was Billy and Jerry, the two guys that lived next door. They were life long friends of Tommy's. For some reason they seemed to take a shine to the Yankee Boy that stayed by Tommy's house. We sat around the table and drank some wine, while Billy played his banjo. I remember Violet got out her little tape recorder and we taped the session. We got into some deep conversation about death and life. Billy ended the set with "Mr. Bojangles", and we left the recorder running. It had gotten to be around nine and I helped Stevie to bed. I had become his big brother. As I came up the hall, Billy and Jerry were talking to Violet about death. Billy, who was just twenty-nine, said, "I really don't think I'll live past thirty." "Oh no, Billy, why you think like that?" Violet asked, very concerned for his dim outlook. "I don't know, I just have a feeling," Billy said, and stopped his conversation. "Hey, bro, stop that kind of talk, you're upsetting Miss Violet," Jerry piped up. "Hey what do yous guys say we smoke a "J"?" I quipped. "Bring it on, bro, bring it on," Jerry said, "But you better keep an eye on your lighter. Billy likes to collect them. We have a shoe box full of bic lighters at the house," Jerry said, looking at his best friend affectionately. We all laughed. Just then the phone rang. Violet went into the kitchen to answer it. The kitchen was really part of the same room as the dining room and living room. It was one big area sectioned off only by furniture and ells. The kitchen was an ell on the North side of the house, and the dining area was an ell off the West side. It was Tommy, so we knew she'd be a while with him. Jerry looked at me and said, "Hey, Justin, what say someday you come out and party with Billy and me? Do you play pool? There's a nice pool bar down the road in Hopedale." "Sure, I love to play pool. Just say when." I was ready, willing, and able to get out, so I answered quickly. "How's bout Friday night, that is if Miss Billy can get out from Millie's mitts for the night," Jerry said, laughing at his friend. "He may as well get married to the bitch, I swear to God he has his head so far up her ass, if she takes a fast turn he'll get whiplash," he continued his chiding of his friend Billy. "Yeah, at least I got a girlfriend, not like you with your lonely little hand," Billy chimed in, not going to be left dissed by Jerry. "Hey, at least my hand is always ready to go when I am," Jerry said and we all laughed at the old joke. I remember that night fondly. I went to bed and slept soundly. I got up the next day and began my ritual. I was cooking grits and eggs, with buttermilk biscuits, in the little kitchen. I made the biscuits from the recipe on the side of the buttermilk carton. I had become quite the chef down there in the bayous. Violet came into the kitchen, "Whatcha doing there, boy? Ah, cooking biscuits, hmm, looks good. Listen, I been meaning to talk to you. I know we don't pay you much money. I mean I want you to know how much I really enjoy having you here. Stevie loves you; I want you to know you can stay here as long as you need. I wanted to give you a little extra money for Friday; I heard Jerry ask you last night. I want you to have an extra good time. I talked to Tommy and he agreed," she said as she reached into her purse and took out a fifty-dollar bill, which she handed to me. Then she did something that took me off guard, but I liked it. She hugged me. I felt so special, I felt like I belonged. The day only got better. Just after nine Bert showed up at the door. He was alone and looking good. I was hoping the stories were true. I was horny, I hadn't had sex since Tommy and I took the run. I mean I did jerk off, nearly every day and sometimes two or three times. I love the feeling of shooting my load. I love my cock; it's the most favorite part of my body. I never could understand how them guys can have it tucked up inside themselves to become women. I guess you really have to love someone to make that kind of change. Or you really have to believe you are a woman. To each his own. I don't like to be too judgmental. Bert came in and looked around and said, "Where is everyone, bro? We alone, wanna smoke a joint?" "Sure, buddy, I kind of been waiting to be alone with you," I said as I smiled at him. "Yeah, I bet you have. I feel it too," Bert said and gave me a devilish smile. "You mean all this time you been teasing me?" I asked and smiled my best devilish smile back. "Yeah, I knew you wanted me the first time I met you at the Christmas party. I wanted you, but couldn't figure out how to get you alone. Yesterday CJ told me you're home all day alone, so I skipped off school and came to see you," Bert said as he got red in the face. "I hope we're talking about the same thing," I said, toying with him, "I mean, you did want to try my biscuits, right?" I continued and reached for the plate of biscuits to offer him one. "Uh, well, no, not really. I mean I want your biscuits, not the ones on the plate though," Bert said as he reached for my waist with his hands. I moved towards him and put my arms around him. Yes, this is what I was missing; this was going to complete my newfound life. I needed a lover, one I could share my innermost self with. I wanted someone I could just be me with. Bert was going to be my someone. We kissed deeply and pushed our tongues into each other's mouths. I was rock hard, and bursting at the seams. I wanted this boy so bad. I wanted to be with him right then. My six-inch Justin wanted to be stroked and felt. We made love right there on the living room floor. We undressed ourselves. I watched this southern god as he took his shirt off. His chest was chiseled, and smooth as a baby's bottom. He had a slight soft fine hair trail below his belly button. I watched him kick off his shoes and slip his blue jeans off. He stood before me in his white Tommy Hilfiger boxers with the tight white elastic waistband with Tommy's name in red letters. Bert's dark skin looked even darker. His legs were covered with soft fine golden hairs that shone in the sun beaming through the large dining area window. He was absolutely breathtaking. I was down to my CK boxer briefs, my bone was bulging through the slit. I looked down at my glistening cock head; it was wet with precum. I pulled my boxer briefs off and my prick sprang out and bounced up and down. My balls were full of come, and hanging low. Bert put his arms around me and pulled me to him. I reached back and pulled him to me. We tumbled to the floor, and began a hot lovemaking escapade. I was so excited, I was ready to come. I moved his hands away from my cock. "Oh, you're all ready, huh, Justin? You want me, don't you? Tell me you want me. I want to hear you say it, babe," Bert said to me as we lay on the floor, naked as the day we were born. His words excited me even more. I replied, "Yes, Bert, I want you. I want your hot cock in my mouth. I want to taste your juice, I want to feel it shoot down my throat." "Yeah, that's it babe, tell me how you want it. Yeah, Justin, suck my cock," Bert hissed at me. I took his five and a half-inch cock into my lips. I sucked on his head; I ran my tongue around the hot staff while I held it in my mouth. I put my fingers in the middle of his balls and pushed my index and middle finger up into his groin. He pumped his cock into my mouth. He moved his mouth to my cock and began sucking me. He used his right hand and slid it up and down my shaft behind his mouth. His mouth was clamped on me. He seemed to know right where to apply what pressure. I couldn't take it. He put his left hand on my butt; he felt around my hole, and pushed a finger into me. I released his cock from my mouth, "Yes, oh man, yeah, suck me, Bert, yeah, that's it. Oh man, I'm gonna come. Here it comes. Yess!" I screamed as I shot my load into his hot mouth. Bert was working my cock with his mouth and my ass with his fingers. I put my mouth back on him and kept my right hand on his balls. I used my left hand to finger his ass like he just did for me. I could feel the come in his sac, I could actually feel his come travel up his balls and into his cock. I felt his hot come enter my mouth; it was one long shot, followed by two short ones. I felt his cock twitch in between my lips as I swallowed his juice. "Man, that was great, you're the best, Justin. Where'd you learn that technique ? You were better than my girlfriend," Bert said to me as he grabbed for his clothes. "Let's smoke that joint I brought," he was saying as he pulled up his boxers. He folded the rest of his clothes and left them on the sofa. "I just wanna sit around here in my boxers with you and get stoned," he said as he slapped me on the ass. I was in heaven. He had just paid me one of the highest compliments ever, to be compared to a woman giving head, and being told I was better. That was one of the nicest things anyone had said to me in a long time. We sat around the rest of the day smoking his pot, and eating the food I cooked. We ended up watching "All My Children" with Erica. I don't know why but I love that show. After the soap we dressed in case the other boys came around. How would it look, two boys sitting in their underwear watching soap operas? Stevie wouldn't be home for at least another hour. I felt so good sitting on the couch, making out with Bert. We talked about everything. He told me he had liked me from the moment he saw me at the Christmas Party. He was infatuated with my looks and my abilities around the stove. Bert told me he had never been so attracted to another boy his whole life. I had never felt so good in my life. I thought back to JT, and Ryan. I thought of Chuck. None of them had said the kinds of things that Bert did. He held my hand and just looked into my eyes; I could feel his love for me. I loved him back, for the first time in months I loved someone, and not something. I went to bed that night feeling on top of the world. I had finally found the love I had been searching for. Hey, he had a girlfriend, but he was more attracted to me than any other boy he knew, and I gave better head. I was excited because the next night I would be going with Jerry and Billy who were both older than I and accepted me. I was happy because Violet had taken me into her home and trusted and respected me. I began to miss my Grandparents. I went to sleep and had a nightmare that my Gramps was at the family doctor's being told he had a little time left. I woke up scared; the dream was too real. I couldn't get back to sleep; I would call them tomorrow and tell them how much I loved them both. It was the second Friday of January just a little over a year ago. I was waiting at the dining room table for Billy and Jerry to take me on the jaunt to play some pool. They had explained to me we were going to a little shanty bar in Hopedale owned by Jerry's uncle. I would be cool to drink as long as I was with Jerry. Jerry's Dad was the Parish Sheriff, and nobody would screw with Jerry's family or friends. The men picked me up and we were out. We had a great time. We played game after game. I drank frozen white russians all night. I was having a great time. It had gotten to be about two in the morning. Jerry had taken up with Linda; she was one of the local bar flies. I was talking with Billy as Linda and Jerry were engrossed in a deep conversation. The bar room door flew open, and in walked Millie, Billy's girlfriend. She was obviously drunk, and mad. Never get in the path of a drunken mad woman, no sir. She marched right over to Billy and grabbed his arm and pulled him from the barstool. "Come here, boy, le's you an' me have a chat," Millie slurred at him, as she pulled him into the corner. I could hear Linda and Jerry. They were making plans to leave. I guess I was the third man out. I sat there and nursed my drink. Billy came over to us and announced he had to leave; he told Jerry he'd see him at home later. Millie led him out of the bar. "Well, Justin, I guess we should go to as soon as you finish up. Linda wants to come by," Jerry said to me, not rushing me, just letting me know he had a promise. We played a quick game of nine ball, just the three of us, Linda, Jerry, and I. I remember thinking Linda wasn't a bad pool player. She won. I could tell looking at Jerry he was wasted. I began to think about the ride home. Linda picked up on my concern, I never knew how. "Don't worry, Justin, I've seen him worse than this, we'll be cool," Linda said to me while Jerry had gone to the men's room. The three of us left the little bar and piled into the 1972 Ford Fairlane. The car was in mint condition; Jerry had restored it himself. Jerry got behind the wheel, Linda in the middle, and me in the passenger seat. I thought about how dark it was down there in the bayous, and how the road was lined with bayous on both sides. I hoped we made it; the ride was only about ten miles, all one road; the only turn was at the drawbridge. Jerry drove like a drunken mad man. He hit speeds of eighty miles per hour. I swear to God that I put a hole in the floorboard of the car looking for my brake. Linda had grabbed ahold of my left thigh and dug her fingers into me. I had never been so scared in my life. It reminded me of that old song "Hot Rod Lincoln" except it was the guardrails clicking by, it was the huge trees. I felt the car swerve several times as Jerry was dozing and driving. I never knew why we didn't just offer to drive. I had my eyes closed most of the first eight miles. We got to the draw bridge and Linda said, "See, Justin, we got you home safe and sound." I remember thinking we still have two miles. One minute later, there in front of us, right in our path, I could see what looked like reflectors on the back of another car. Not the taillights, just the reflectors right in our travel lane. I looked to the speedometer; it was at eighty-five. I looked at Jerry; his eyes were shut, we were heading right for the car. I could make out the back end of a small Ford Escort. My heart began to pound, I could see us hitting it. I couldn't do a thing. I was frozen with fear. I had never been so pumped in my life, and thinking this was it. We're going to die. Just at the last possible second, Linda screamed. I heard her voice in my head, and everything went into slow motion. I saw her reach her left arm to the large steering wheel, and swing it to the left. I saw the car in front of us as the right front fender hit the back left quarter panel of the Escort. I saw a body come up the hood of the Fairlane, the side of a man's body came up the hood and into the windshield right in front of me. I heard the glass shatter, I heard the screeching of the tires as Jerry came to and slammed on the brakes. I felt the car start to skid into a one-eighty, I watched the world spin around. I could smell the burning rubber of the skidding tires. The car came to a stop several hundred feet after the impact. I just wanted out, I had to get out of the car. We had just hit somebody. I pushed on the handle and the door; it wouldn't open. I kicked it and it popped free. I heard the sound of metal against metal as I freed myself from the vehicle. I stepped out and right at that precise moment, the body rolled to my feet. I looked down and saw a dead body, I knew the second I saw the body it was dead. I was terrified. I ran, I ran to the first house I came to. I pounded with my fist on the door, "Help, call the police, there's been an accident, please help." I screamed, and pounded my fists on the door. It seemed to take hours. Finally the lights came on in the house and a little old lady came to the door, followed by a little old man. I told them to please call for an ambulance and the police. The man grabbed his hat, and in just his nightclothes came outside with me. We walked over to where Linda and Jerry were. I saw Millie. What was she doing here? Where was Billy? I could hear Jerry crying; he was holding the dead guy's head in his lap. Linda was saying something to me; what the hell was she saying? "Justin, we killed Billy, Jerry hit Billy." I looked down and into the ashen face of Billy; I didn't even recognize him. His legs were all twisted, and his arms were positioned in the strangest way. It took over a half-hour for the police to arrive. Jerry never let go of Billy's head, he never stopped crying. "Justin, I'm going to call Violet and have her come get you. No sense in you getting involved in this," Linda said. "Jerry's Dad will come down and handle everything," she continued. To the little man she said, "Can I use your phone real quick?" The next thing I knew, Violet was there and putting me into her car. "Are you OK? Do you want to go to the hospital and get checked out?" Violet said as we got into her car. "No, ma'am, I just want to go home." I said. "I feel bad for Jerry. Billy and he grew up with Tommy. Tommy is going to be so upset," Violet was saying, and other things that just got balled up in my brain. I went to bed that night thinking `what have I done with my life'? What am I doing? I need to go home. I need to have normalcy; I need my real family, my Grandparents. I had never called them, I forgot to call them. First thing in the morning I was going to call them, and tell them both how much I loved and missed them. I barely slept that night. I tossed and turned. I got up around noon Saturday. The first thing I did was call my Grandparents. "Hello, Justin, is that you? Your Grandfather is worried sick about you; come home, please. Tell us where you are and we'll come and get you," my Grams was saying into the phone. "I'm here, Grams, I'm here in Louisiana. I miss you both. I love you, Grams," I said to her. "I love you too, son, I love you too, Justin. Here, Gramps wants to talk to you," my sweet Grandmother said to me. "Hello, Justin, this is Gramps. Come home. I got my coat on; where are you? I'll leave as soon as we hang up." "Gramps, I love you, I miss you. I'm in Louisiana. I want to come home, Gramps," I said and began to cry. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go to my home, where I had my own bedroom and my own chair at the dining room table. "Justin, give me the address and phone number where you are. I thought you were closer. I can't get there in a few minutes. I'll send you a plane ticket. Are you near the airport?" Gramps was yelling into the phone; he was hard of hearing and didn't realize he yelled all the time. I turned to Violet, and asked her if we were close to the airport. She told me we were within an hour's drive of the airport, and she could bring me there next week when Tommy got home. "Gramps, I can't get a ride to the airport until next week," I said to him. I continued to explain about the car wreck and what had been going on. We concluded our conversation, with the plan for me to leave the following Wednesday on a flight for my home. Monday morning we woke to the phone ringing at five thirty. I thought it must be Tommy. A few minutes later, Violet was knocking on my bedroom door. "Justin, it's for you, it's your Aunt Betty," Violet called through the bedroom door. I jumped out of my bed. I couldn't figure out how my Aunt got the phone number, but if she was calling at five thirty in the morning something bad had happened. "Hello? Betty? Its me, Justin," I said into the phone. I stood in the kitchen in my underwear with Violet by my side. "Justin, it's bad. I have bad news. It's Mommy and Daddy. Justin, you need to come home. Mommy told me she had made plane reservations for you for this Wednesday. Justin, you need to come home today. There's been a terrible accident. Mommy and Daddy were in the Chrysler; they ran over to Buckland Mall and a drunk driver hit them. Justin, they never saw it coming, they never felt a thing. We need you home, Justin," Betty said into the phone as she sobbed. "Oh, oh, why, why?" I broke down and cried. I had lost my only real family. I lost the two people who had accepted me as I am. I was so all alone. I had to go home. I had to return. I left Louisiana that afternoon. I left behind a wake of horrors, and tragedies. ------------ Well, boys, that was my time away. My searching period. The story is far from over. This ended Part II. Part III, My Time, will begin next week. Find out what happened when I returned to sunny Enfield, Connecticut. I hope I didn't let you all down with this last chapter. I had to tell the story, I had to show people what I went through. I learned some very valuable lessons in my short life. I hope you can learn from my many mistakes and not repeat them. Learn to love those around you, but most of all learn to love yourself. Write me if you feel so inclined. Justin69SK@aol.com My very best thanks to Ed, my editor, for his hard work and dedication. Ed, I appreciate all you do!