Date: Sat, 23 Jan 2010 04:07:52 -0800 (PST)
From: Claudiu I. <ghostofoldtrafford@yahoo.com>
Subject: Divine Punishment 2

Be warned, this story portrays gay relationships. SHOCKING, I know!

But wait, there's more! No sex! Are you still conscious? Good. What I mean
by that is that this is intended to be more a PG-13 story. Well, in terms
of sex, anyway. You can't expect no swearing, now can you? So, if you're
looking for some masturbation material, there are plenty other fine sources
around, but this story, I am sorry to say, is not one of them.

Keeping that in mind, if you decide to go ahead and read, feel free to
always contact me at ghostofoldtrafford@yahoo.com



DIVINE PUNISHMENT


Chapter 2


There were birds singing, the sound of a peaceful brook streaming somewhere
close and angelic singing.

"Wake up." A sweet voice said. I desperately wanted to see the angel to
whom the voice belonged.

"Wake up already, shithead!"

Wait, that's not right. What kind of a potty mouth angel...Oh, the fucker
slapped me. I opened my eyes and stared up into my sister's face. Damn it,
why must she ruin my dreams, on top of my wakeful state?

"The hell happened to you?" she asked.

"The lack of proper nutrition has had an immense effect on me in these past
24 hours, as any loss of energy during tedious physical exertions has not
been counterbalanced with proper protein or any type of nourishment, for
that matter, so I lost consciousness". She just stared down at me for half
a minute.

"Physical exertions? What, like walking? Or do you still insist that you
are a Master Bater of the 13th level and that is strenuous activity?
Though, I must admit, your right arm does seem more...defined."

"I use my left, thank you very much."

"Uh huh. Sounds like you fainted to me." Her eyes roamed across my body and
I remembered that I was naked, so I jumped to my feet and pulled the duvet
off the bed, trying to cover myself. "Oh, relax, my little big bro. Nothing
I haven't seen before." What?! What the hell did she mean by that? Did
she...? Was she...? God, I don't wanna think about that! "And you certainly
have nothing to be ashamed of..." Okay, this was starting to be all kinds
of weird. Then again, she was my insane sister, and this was probably her
way of teasing me.

I tried to regain my dignity and went into full-on big brother preaching
mode. "Fern, you really need to respect my privacy. You can't just barge in
like that."

"But you were passed out! What, I have to wait for your permission to save
you, in case of a fire or something?"

"Yes, knocking is a common courtesy. If I don't answer within a minute,
then you can assume I'm not in...Or dead. In which case you can't have my
computer." She pouted. "After all, how would you feel if I walked in on you
naked?"

"Ha! As if I'd ever worry about you perving on me." Err, I really didn't
like where this whole conversation was heading.

"Well, of course not, I'm your brother."

"That's not what I mean. You know, you really should keep your diary in a
safer place than your desk."

"It's a journal!" I protested. "Wait...WHAT?!"

"I've read all about your inner turmoil. `Oh, God, I just want to be
normal. Why do I feel like this? I don't want to be gay!'
Boo-friggin-hoo. Cry me a river already and get over it."

I felt the walls close in on me. My sister knowing my deepest, darkest
sister could have potentially world-ending consequences. Well, MY world,
anyway. But a sudden thought stopped me from feinti...I mean, losing
consciousness once again. "How long have you known?"

"About a month, give or take." She replied. Well, that was strangely
reassuring. I mean, she hadn't told anyone about it. I stared into those
not-so-innocent eyes. Crap!

"Who've you told so far?" I asked, sighing.

She batted her lashes at me, knowing full well that her act had no effect
on me. "Well, just a few of my girlfriends..." I groaned. "They seemed
awfully pleased with the idea. When Mrs. Courich, Virginia's mom, heard,
she wanted to get you to go shopping..."

"WHAT? You told Mrs. Courich?"

"Of course not. Don't be silly. I told Aunt Mia, and she brought it up at
brunch one day, with her friends..."

Now I was starting to get those murderous feelings again. "How...Why...I
don't even know what to say."

"Oh, relax, you drama queen. All my friends said they're cool with it and
they'd keep their mouths shut at school and Aunt Mia said she'd make sure
mom wouldn't find out before you had a chance to tell her yourself. But I
do think you should do that soon..." she said, shifting from one foot to
the other, in an almost nervous manner.

"Oh, God, what now?"

"Well...err, I told my girlfriends about two weeks ago and, since no one
has said anything about it to you, it's obvious they've been keeping their
mouths shut. But...Umm, well, I talked to aunt Mia this past Wednesday. And
the brunch was Thursday..."

"Oh, hell, it took all of one day for half of mom's friends to find out?"

"Yeah, and, well, tomorrow at church..."

I cringed. You're probably wondering why someone as free-spirited as my mom
even goes to church in the first place. Well, beats me. I blame the
drugs. I mean, seriously, there must have been some SERIOUS drug use at
some point, because...come on, my mom's not normal. Anyway, whatever the
reason for her love of Church and whatnot, Sunday mass would be followed by
an extremely unplanned and unwelcomed coming out. Have I mentioned that I
hate my sister?

"Anyway, you'll just have to deal with that." she said. "Did you hear about
Terry?" That certainly brought my mind back to what really
mattered. Namely, my ability to kill people with my mind. Either that or
the insanity. It was a coin toss, really. So, I kicked my sister out of my
room, dressed and retrieved a business card out of my wallet. I promptly
dialed the number.

"Doctor Watkins? I'm sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but you said I
should call you if I ever had any trouble, no matter the time..."

Remember how I said I'd spent some time in a mental hospital a few years
back? Well, Dr. Watkins is the therapist I've been seeing ever since. I've
made progress, so I only see him once every two weeks, but this situation
could be deemed an emergency. Anyway, the reason I was in the crazy palace
was because - hang on to your hat, Bruce Willis – I could see dead
people. See, when my dad died, I kinda lost it. I could talk to his
ghost. Of course, that's crazy, I know that now, but back then, I used to
talk to him all the time. My mom thought it was a normal part of the
grieving progress, talking to him, but like I said, she's nuts as well, so
what does she know? But even she became unsettled once it had extended
beyond dad. No need to go into details, but I will say that it all came to
a head when I was on the front porch, sharing a coke with my dead
13-year-old neighbor(car accident), while discussing baseball. Yeah, after
that, Hightower Institute it was. But hey, I'm all better now. Aside from
the killing people with my brain part.

The Doc decided to meet with me at his office that afternoon. So, I called
Sharon and told her how I killed Terry. In hindsight, I probably should
have put that off until after I'd talked to the Doc. Needless to say, she
was not amused. Let's face it, we're all okay with having a potentially
lunatic friend, until said friend actually exhibits traits of insanity. The
thing was, though, deep down, I knew I wasn't crazy. I know, I know, all
schizos say that, but ya have to believe me!

"Sharon, I'm serious. I think I'm some kind of psychic killer."

"Well, you're some kind of psycho, that's for sure!" she replied, before
hanging up on me. Honestly, the lack of support from friends and family
never helps the mentally unstable. If I were truly crazy, her reaction
might have unsettled me deeply. Doesn't the poor girl realize that?

Anyway, I finally made my way downstairs, where breakfast was already
cold. And I'd lost my appetite. Until I actually saw the bacon, at which
time I remembered I was a bottomless pit and wolfed down the whole thing.

"I trust this has served to teach you a valuable lesson." My mom said as
she entered the kitchen.

"Yeah, store some chips in my bedroom for emergencies." I mumbled.

"Not a bad idea. It would show resourcefulness, as well as initiative. Too
bad you weren't prepared for the possibility this time around. But I'm
proud you got something out of this whole mess." She said, coming over and
kissing me on the forehead. My mom is always so sweet...

"So, any plans for today?" she asked.

"Well, I'm meeting the Doc before lunch, but nothing else this afternoon."

My mom grew concerned. "Why do you need to see Doctor Watkins? Your session
isn't until Thursday."

"I just felt the need to talk to him, is all."

"What about?"

Well, I knew I HAD to answer, so I decided to tell her the truth, not the
whole truth, and something aside from the truth. "Well, there's this guy in
school, who died last night."

"Oh, I heard about that on the news. But they haven't yet confirmed that
it's him."

"Oh, it is. Trust me, I know."

"Okay, but I still don't understand."

"Well, he's the guy who beat me up yesterday."

"The one you picked on?" I rolled my eyes. "My God, you must feel awful,
and probably a bit guilty as well, knowing you were mean to him on his last
day on Earth." What could I say to that? Pointing out the absurdity of the
whole thing would probably only serve to starve me some more and it's not
like I actually had the weight to spare. As it was, I needed rocks in my
pockets when the wind was strong, for fear of emulating Mary Poppins sans
the umbrella.

"Yeah, mom, I feel awful about him dying." So not true. I'd be dancing on
his grave. "And I do feel partially responsible". Totally true. Psychic
murderer, remember?

"Well, I hope you have a good session. But don't make any plans for
dinner." Darn, and I had my mind set on a night of wild partying, drunken
revelry and naked men. "We're having family dinner tonight. " Uh-oh. Always
bad news. My mom had decided about a year previously that it was time to
move on and started dating. Every once in a while, she'd bring a guy home
for "family dinner". I suppose it was a test, both for him and for us, to
see how we interact. Considering that she was still single, I suppose they
had all failed the test so far. Either that or we did. But we're so darn
perfect, so that certainly couldn't be it. "Trevor will be joining us."

I grunted in the affirmative. I had no idea who this Trevor was, nor did I
particularly care to find out, but it seemed inevitable. I decided to go
back to bed until it was time to go see the Doc.

It took me a while to get to sleep, thinking about what I would tell
Dr. Watkins. Starting head-on with my wild theories might be enough to
guarantee a one-way ticket to Hightower. I needed to play my cards just
right. Then, of course, my mind wandered to Sharon and how she was now
convinced I was a nutter. Then there's the whole coming out thing. God, I
was having an awful weekend. But at least the weather was nice...

And as such I just wore jeans and a polo shirt to my meeting with the good
doctor. When I entered the waiting area, it was deserted, as expected, the
two leather couches sitting unoccupied, the decades-old magazines on the
glass table in the middle of the room gathering dust. I knocked on the door
to his office and I was beckoned inside.

The doctor was sitting behind his metal-frame desk, stuffing his mouth with
what looked like a Big Mac.

"Hello, Hudson. Sit down. Please excuse me while I finish lunch. I permit
myself one fast-food meal per month. Or rather, my wife does. And I thought
this was as good an opportunity as ever to break the rule." He smiled, a
piece of cow hanging from the corner of his mouth.

I sat in one of the two leather chairs facing each other in front of the
desk and passed over the offer to indulge in some fries. I drummed my
fingers on my thighs as I waited for the Doc's cholesterol to
rise. Finally, his meal finished, he joined me, sitting in the other free
chair.

"Okay. Spill." He said, taking a gulp from his large Coke.

"Well...See, a guy from my school died last night."

"Oh, yes, I heard something about that. Isn't he..."

"Yes, Terry. THAT Terry." Yes, I bitch to my shrink about bullies. So, sue
me.

"I see. And how do you feel about this? Obviously, you were affected by his
death, otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."

"Well, it's strange. I'm happy in a way. I know how that sounds, but the
guy was an asshole, and I won't miss him one bit. But still, I feel
somewhat responsible."

"How so?"

Okay, moment of truth. "Well, I've been fantasizing about his demise for
quite a while now."

"Well, you must realize that a lot of people dream about their enemies
being punished in one form of another. While not exactly healthy, it's not
really unusual either. It's human nature."

"Yes, but...Well, last night, as I went to sleep, the last thoughts that
ran through my head were of Terry drowning."

"And he was found in the lake..."

"Yeah. I mean, I know how crazy it sounds but, come on, I used to talk to
dead people. Leaping to wild conclusions, such as me actually being
responsible isn't all that crazy by comparison." He raised an
eyebrow. "Okay, maybe it is and, deep down, I realize that, and I know I'm
not responsible, but, well, I just feel like I am."

"The fact that you're not indulging in this delusion is good enough for me,
Hudson. And the fact that you actually sought me out to talk about it is
very encouraging. You're not bottling things up, the way you used to when
you thought your mom betrayed you for getting you help after your father's
death. As for Terry's death, considering the impact he's had on your life,
it's only natural for his death to also affect you. Again, I'm glad you
feel comfortable enough to talk about it. I think what we need to do now is
discuss Terry and his interaction with you. Vent, as it were."

Oh, boy, did I ever vent. I called Terry every mean name in the book, plus
a few the Webster people missed. Then we moved onto the whole gay thing.

"I've known about you for quite a while, Hudson."

"Huh?"

"Well, sometimes, you pace around my room when we talk and whenever you do,
you always stop to look at the picture of my son on top of my desk." I
turned crimson and started to stammer, so the Doc started laughing. Are
shrinks supposed to laugh at their patients? Isn't that counter-productive?
"Oh, don't worry. He is quite handsome, but he's 5 years older than
you. And straight."

"Yes, well..."

"Don't worry about it. But, tell me, will you tell your mother?"

"I don't know. I know she'll be okay with it, but I'm still anxious. Maybe
letting her find out from her friends won't be so bad." I proceeded to fill
him in on the whole thing.

"But even if she is okay with it, finding out from a third party won't be
good. She may feel hurt, because you trusted pretty much everyone else
except for her."

"But I didn't! If it weren't for my stupid sister..."

"Well, that's beside the point now. The fact is that your mother is bound
to find out about it and I'd like you to avoid an argument. If she were to
confront you about it, you'd get defensive."

"What? I would NOT! I'd no such thing. Why are you saying that?"

Again with the raised eyebrow. "Okay, okay, maybe you have a point." I
continued.

"Well, at the end of the day, it's up to you, Hudson. Do what you think is
right. And if you need anything, call me, okay?"

And that was that. All in all, a waste of time and money.

I went back home and found it deserted. So, even if I did want to talk to
my mom, she wasn't there. I debated the possibility of doing it via text
messaging. I immediately pictured her response. "LOL WUT?!" I shook my head
in frustration. A letter? "Dear mom, I'm a poofter. Love, your gay son." It
had its merits. Then I tried to think outside the box. My mom was an art
teacher, maybe she'd appreciate some type of presentation involving some
kind of art work. I suppose I could do a clay penis or something. Maybe
paint a closet with a hand trying to come out? Too metaphorical, I decided.

I tried to call Sharon for advice, but apparently she wasn't quite ready to
deal with her lunatic friend, so I just gave up and tried to relax. So, I
went on the Internet, in search for porn. What? Exactly what do YOU do in
order to relax? A couple of hours and a box of tissues later, I heard the
front door slam. Fern.

She ran upstairs and burst into my room. "Hey, queer. You gonna tell mom?
She's gonna be home from shopping soon and time will be slowly ticking
away."

"Thanks for reminding me. Fern, why did you have to tell everyone?" I
whined. "Do you really hate me that much?"

She considered my question and, for once, decided to answer me in a serious
manner. "Hudson, you're my brother. I love making you miserable, because
I'm a bitch. But I love you and I'd never do anything to hurt you. If I
thought for even a second that people finding out would be bad, I wouldn't
have said anything. But everyone's been okay with it and so will mom. You
just need to grow a pair and tell her!"

"You already saw my pair this morning." I said, and we both started
laughing. Well, maybe it wouldn't be too bad, but I still wasn't sure. But
one thing was clear. My sister may be a bitch, but she's my bitch. She'd
make one hell of a fag hag.

When my sister left me alone, I went back to the book I had abandoned the
previous day and decided to wait until after dinner to talk to mom. That
way, she and Trevor could enjoy a nice meal, without this hanging over our
heads.

Soon enough, the door bell rang and I realized it was 7 PM. That must be
Trevor. I decided to be fashionably late in meeting him, so I showered and
changed into a pair of khaki cargos and a snug black t-shirt, then finally
descended the stairs and went into the living room, where my mom was
engaged in conversation with a middle-aged guy. Even sitting, he appeared
to be huge, definitely over 6'5" and broad shoulders. His hairline was
receding and what he had left was turning gray, but it somehow suited him
fine. He had high cheekbones and a thick nose and his skin was wrinkled at
the corner of his eyes and mouth. He definitely seemed to be a guy who
smiled a lot. And he had kind, brown eyes. I decided my mom could
definitely do worst.

My sister was lounging on the couch, staring at the TV, obviously not
interested in the conversation.  Trevor noticed me and stood up, extending
his paw for a handshake. He almost pulled my arm out of its socket. Damn, I
definitely needed to see this guy arm-wrestle Mr. Ferguson. Or
Mrs. Ferguson. Or Sharon...

"Ah, Hudson, I presume?"

"I prefer Xander."

"Tough luck. Your first name's Hudson." My mom cut in. "Hudson, this is
Trevor." She went on.

"Charmed." I replied, rubbing my aching arm.

A few minutes of meaningless chit-chat later, we moved into the dining
room, where we sat for dinner. Coq au vin. I was thinking that the coq part
was definitely a sign I should talk to my mom. Little did I know that my
sister interpreted it as such as well.

When we had finished, my mom and Trevor settled down with a cup of coffee
each.

"Kids, you should eat some fruit." My mom said. That was her idea of
desert. Fruit, for cryin' out loud! I wanted ice-cream!

I sighed. "Yes, I suppose I could go for a banana." I said.

"I bet you would." My sister said, the double-entendre obvious. To me, at
least. I shot her a murderous look. I was thinking that if I did posses
psychic killing abilities, now would be a good time for them to kick
in. Naturally, nothing happened, so I started on my banana, while mom and
Trevor sipped their coffee.

Apparently, my sister was back to being full-on bitch, so she decided to
make things interesting.

"Mom, guess what? Hudson likes cock!"

I chocked on the banana, while Trevor spat out his coffee. My mom continued
to sip her carefully, then put the cup down and stared at my
sister. "Grounded for a week, I think." She told Fern.

"What? Why?" my sister replied.

"Because whether or not your brother finds penises more appealing than
vaginas – God knows I don't blame him, vaginas are scary – it is not
your place to tell. Certainly not while entertaining company and using such
language."

I was dumbstruck. "Err...So, I suppose you're okay with me being gay,
then?" I asked.

"Well, of course, dear. I already knew, I was just waiting for you to tell
me. I've read your diary half a year ago."

"JOURNAL! And do I have no privacy?"

My mom shrugged and went back to drinking her coffee, my sister fuming and
Trevor fidgeting nervously in his seat, glancing from me to my
mom. Finally, he gathered up the courage to speak.  "Umm, I don't
understand, about homosexuality, I mean. I don't understand why one would
want to have sex with a man."

"Quite." My mom said, staring at him. Uh-oh. Guess that meant Trevor
wouldn't be getting lucky. He clamped his mouth shut.

"Well, as entertainingly awkward as this has been, I think I'd best retire
for the night." I said, before scampering off to my room. Lying on my bed,
I realized things had gone pretty damn well. All that worrying for
nothing. I started giggling. My mom was awesome!

I played around on my computer for a while longer and then went to bed. In
the morning, I felt a warmth wash over me, like a soothing presence. I
smiled and felt content. I reached down, saying hello to my morning
woody. Then the warmth turned to terrible coldness and someone yelled at
me.

"Stop yanking and start yakking!" My eyes flew open. I recognized that
voice. "Mind telling me exactly why the fuck I'm dead, dipshit?" Terry
asked me, standing at the foot of my bed, his eyes cold. Then I fainted
again, like a little bitch.