Date: Mon, 03 Jan 2000 01:27:00 GMT
From: Tel R O'Tales <teller_of_tales@hotmail.com>
Subject: Rich Kid part 11

WARNING:

	This story contains descriptions of sexual acts between
boys of similar ages. If this is not to your tastes or is
not legal in your locality, please leave now! The story and
its associated characters are entirely fictional and any
resemblance to people, living or otherwise, is purely
coincidental.  Some parts of the story have been idealised.
	The author has copyrighted this story.  A single copy
had been placed in the Nifty Archive. Do not distribute it
to any newsgroups and/or other web-sites without permission
from the author.

The Rich Kid
Part 11

	During lunch, the topic of discussion was quite naturally the
interviews the Police had been carrying out. The more we talked, the more
of the jigsaw we managed to piece together. It turned out that Thorne had
been beaten severely. Despite his bullying, he didn't deserve to be beaten
like that. What he was subjected to was nothing short of abuse. Who had
actually done it though was still a point of conjecture. I had my
suspicions, but that was all they were.
	The afternoon passed slowly as I trudged around the soccer
field. This was even worse than being flattened regularly on the rugby
pitch and I couldn't wait until 4:30 when I could go back to the room and
shower. At least Mike would be there and not chasing around like a demented
fly trying to kick a football.
	After showering we had dinner and prep. With all that had happened
today, it was hard to concentrate and I didn't achieve a thing. It wasn't
until I checked my e-mails later on that my interest was rekindled in the
Thorne case.
	Father had sent me an e-mail that really caught me by surprise.
Unfortunately, it could also mean trouble. Basically, father told me a
little about my mother and her family.  It struck me as odd that father
never told me about them before. There was very little new there. He then
went on to tell me about her more distant relatives. This was where it got
interesting. He started telling me about this kid Mark. He was really given
a hard time by his parents. Apparently he was really bright, but lazy with
it. I had a growing feeling of unease. Was he just about to tell me that I
got the Thorne part of my name from his family? Nah, it couldn't be. I read
on and it hit me like a brick! He was family! Worse still he was a blood
relative! Mark Thorne, the school bully was one of my relatives!
	I sat back in my chair. I wasn't sure how I felt about this latest
revelation. I was surprised, but there was anger and shame too. Strangely,
the negative feelings were tempered by compassion and some form of
understanding. This needed some careful thought. I shut the laptop down and
lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.
	How could this bully be part of my family? We were all descent
people, thoughtful, considerate. Ok, most of the time we are. The more I
thought about this piece of news the more my emotions built up. Mainly it
was anger, but compassion kept rearing its head for the poor lad that had a
tough time growing up. What the hell, we have all had it tough! And yet
some had it tougher then others: who was I to judge him? I did not have his
past to contend with! May be it was why he was a bully now. But it was
still no excuse! Why shame? Didn't I have enough burdens with my own life
and actions to carry the weight of the acts of this bastard? Could it be my
actions against my own father were the expression of a hither-to unseen
side of my character that I shared with Mark? Was it possible? Was I
thinking the unthinkable: shame at my mother? NO, it can't be! I love
mother! Or do I? Or was the shame I felt caused by something else? A shame
at our indifference at the fate of a youngster who should have been helped
and protected from abuse by his family, not abandoned by them! Was I a
potential child abuser?  NO! NO!  And NO! Slowly, it dawned on me I did not
know much about myself, about who I really was, my motives in life, where I
stood, what where my values. The rock-solid world I had learned to believe
in began to waver.
	The door creaked open and distracted me from my thoughts. It was
Mike. I hadn't even noticed he had gone out. He looked at over at me with a
puzzled expression.
	"What's up Ed'?" He asked.
	"Nothing!" I snapped back. He now looked very
surprised. "Sorry. I've just had some news and I am not sure how I feel
about it at the moment."
	"What news? Nothing bad I hope."
	"I'm not sure. In some ways it is bad, but then again, it isn't. Oh
I don't know." I was confused, my emotions were all tangled up and I really
wasn't sure how I felt. I got up off the bed and left the room. Mike took a
look at my e-mail. Serves me right. I shouldn't have printed it and left it
laying around if I didn't want him to read it. It may have even been a
subconscious cry for his help. I don't know.
	I don't know why I did it, but I went over to the annex where
Thorne's room was.  It wasn't difficult to find his room either. The
rhythmic thump, thump, thump from his stereo was like a lighthouse to ship
at night. Nervously, I knocked on his door. There was no answer. What a
surprise! My confidence left me and I walked away. For best part of the
next hour I just wandered aimlessly around the school grounds and finished
up sitting in the chapel. I guess I was just seeking help with my feelings,
to understand them. I was startled when a hand was gently placed on my
shoulder. It was Mike.
	"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly.
	"No. Not yet. I want to understand more about how I feel
first. Thanks for the offer though."
	We stood up and walked silently back to our room. Mike stayed very
close to me all the way there and seemed very reticent to leave me for even
a moment, but he had to use the toilet. When he came out of the bathroom I
was laying in bed, my clothes in a heap on the floor. Just like the mother
I never really knew might have done, he picked them up and put them away
for me.
	He climbed into his own bed and turned the light out. I could feel
him watching me, almost willing me to turn over and open my heart to him,
but I couldn't.  Not just yet.  Instead I pulled my knees up to my chest
and hugged them. I really felt I needed to sort this out alone. Depression
was creeping up on me at the thought of having the bully for a cousin and
there was nothing I could do about it. I fell asleep as my tears ran across
my face and were soaked up by my pillow.
	I felt bloody awful the next morning, but my upbringing didn't
allow me to shirk my responsibilities, in this case my education, and I
tried to go on as normal. Most of my friends asked me what was wrong and
none got an honest answer. I couldn't tell them the truth, not about having
Thorne as any kind of relative.
	After eating lunch alone, I headed out to the soccer pitch with the
rest of my class and after receiving a particularly hard tackle my anger
broke and Mike dragged me off another of my class mates. I was sent off and
after giving the ball an almighty kick, ran off towards the woods. I don't
know why, I hated running, but I didn't stop for what felt like ages. When
I did stop, I collapsed at the foot of a mighty oak tree, gasping for
breath.  I sat there for ages and it wasn't until I felt the chill of the
evening air I realised it was nearly dark and started jogging back to
school. Just at that moment I felt really free, no cares, no worries,
nothing, but that changed when I got back to my room.  Mike gave me an
almighty ear bashing, the sort reserved for worried fathers and angry House
Masters.  Yes, the House Master collared me too, just after Mike had
finished with me.
	My anger had gone and was replaced by sorrow now, sorrow for me
having that bloody bully as a relative. Fortunately the House Master
interpreted it as remorse for my wrong doing and let me off lightly setting
me only 500 lines. Mike was in a foul mood when I returned to our room and
didn't say a word to me. He kept throwing things around. Nothing hard or
heavy, but shoes and clothes and things. I guess he was working out his
frustrations at my by behaviour by not sharing my problem with him, by not
talking to him.
	It dawned on me that I was being selfish. Mike too was embroiled in
this. I was now feeling sorry for him too. Not only was he putting up with
my brattish behaviour, I had also almost totally neglected him and his
feelings too. I had a quick shower and sat on my bed, knees pulled up under
my chin, arms wrapped around my calves. All I could think about was my
selfishness. What was happening to me? Why had I changed?  I sat there for
over an hour thinking and rocking back and forth.
	I was disturbed from my thoughts by Mike as he came in the room. I
hadn't even noticed that he had left! I threw myself at him almost in
tears. He wrapped his strong arms around me and hugged me tight. I was a
very lucky lad to have someone that was so loving and so forgiving. We sat
on his bed and I tried to explain what I had found out, how I felt, but it
was all too much for him. He couldn't take in my emotional state. I was
dragging him down with me.
	"NO!" I yelled as a leapt off of the bed and ran out of the door. I
couldn't do that to him, not my Mike. I ran down the corridor and down the
stairs. Tears rolling down my cheeks all the while. As I was about to go
out the door by the Porter's Lodge, someone grabbed me from behind with a
strong grip which stopped me dead in my tracks. It was Mike. I struggled
for a while, but gave up when I saw it was pointless to continue. He was
too strong for me.
	He led me back up to our room and sat on the bed with me keeping
his strong arms wrapped around me. The door opened and the House Master
came in. The Porter had told him there was a problem brewing. By now I was
in a really emotional state and the Doctor was called. I slept like a baby
that night after I was sedated.
	I was watched closely by the teaching staff for the next few days
and even closer by my friends. I don't know why they bothered with me. I
mean, I was related to one of the biggest bullies in the history of the
school. I also had regular visits to the school shrink. What a comedown! By
the end of the week, it had been decided that I should be sent home.
	Father came for Freckle's memorial service and took me home with
him afterwards. For the first week, I was forever talking to Mike on the
phone.  I missed him dearly. He missed me too. I could hear his voice
everywhere I went around the house, I even thought I saw him once or twice,
but that was only my mind playing tricks on me. I made such grand plans for
when Mike and I got back together too. In the end I wasn't left alone just
in case I decided to go walk about again. At least this time they knew
where I would be headed. As a precaution, I was doped almost every night to
make me sleep. It worked so well that I was literally carried up and put to
bed by father. I think he realised that he wouldn't be able to keep us
apart much longer before one of us did something silly.
	In between counselling sessions and lessons with Mr Grey, father
spent as much time with me as possible. We really became close as the days
passed, but he couldn't fill the vacuum left in my life by my lover.
	I took the opportunity to ask him why he had never told me about my
mother.  As it transpired, my mother's family felt she was marrying beneath
herself and tried to block her every move. In the end they simply disowned
her. From then on she never saw any of her family again. None of her family
even attended her funeral after she was killed in what father would only
call "the accident".
	I persuaded father to take me to visit Mike one Sunday
afternoon. Wow! What a visit! We hadn't seen each other in over three
weeks! Even though we didn't get the chance to be alone, we did our best to
make up for our time apart. So much for my plans.  I managed to give Mike
the slip for a while and went over to the annex.  There was someone I
needed to see.
	I banged on the door but couldn't make Mark hear me. One of the
other boys that lived in the annex gave it a kick and got an instant
reply. The door opened suddenly. This startled me and I jumped back.
	"Yeah!" Thorne said. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"
	"Can we talk?" I asked trying to bolster up my confidence.
	"What about?" Came a sharp reply.
	"Family and things."
	"Oh. Ok." I was let in and sat on the chair by the desk. We spent
nearly an hour talking, but never once mentioned the beating. It's funny
really, but that was one thing I really wanted to discuss. Not what had
happened or who did it. It would have been nice to know, but not during the
investigation. That wasn't the done thing. What I wanted to know was how he
felt about the whole sequence of events? Why he had done some of the things
he had. To me, what was more important, was did he feel any remorse, but I
didn't get any real answers to my questions though.
	When I left I knew more about my mother's side of the family than
father had ever indicated. It was amazing just hearing about my grandfather
and his heroic exploits during the World Wars. He was a true life hero and
I knew nothing about him, until now that is.
	When I got back to our room, Mike was pacing the floor. He gave me
a real ear bashing for going out and not telling him where I was going,
father did too.  Mike almost exploded when I told him who I had been to
see. Of course, he asked all the questions I didn't have the answers to and
was disappointed. When I told him about my grandfather his interest was
stirred. I had to tell him the whole story as Thorne had told it to me.
	Father took my revelations on the chin as normal, but I knew he was
a little surprised at what I had done. I think he was shocked too about how
much I had found out about my mother's side of the family. Father was also
angry. He didn't say anything about it, but I could tell by the expression
in his face, his choice of words and very often his lack of words. He had
this habit of saying nothing when you least expected it. It was very
off-putting.
	Back at home that night was quiet. Being a Sunday with a new round
of lessons and counselling the following day, I contented myself with
snuggling down with my big teddy bear and pretended it was Mike. Well I
tried, but father came in and kept asking questions about what had happened
to Mark. I told him all I knew, but still he wanted more. He kept on and on
until he was sure he knew all that I knew. Then he kissed me on the
forehead stood up ready to leave.
	I was now starting to realise just how little I knew about my
family. It was my turn to ask the questions. I got very few answers, but I
did discover that my father's father wanted my dad to marry someone
else. Someone that would have been beneficial to both the family and the
company. As it was, he had to settle for a disinherited woman of extreme
beauty and boundless patience. Father wouldn't tell me any more than this.
	I suffered another three weeks of this solitude. No Mike, just my
big teddy-bear to comfort me. I knew from Mike's e-mails that he missed me
as much as I did him. The counsellor wouldn't tell me anything, he just
kept taking notes and asking silly questions until one day I lost my temper
and tried to throw him out of my room. He left alright, but not because I
threw him out. I wasn't strong enough for that. He said he could "take a
hint and knew when he wasn't wanted".
	I ate dinner alone that night. Father used to tell me when he was
going out, but not tonight. He started doing that after I ran away from
school. I was lucky enough to be able to find out where he went by
listening outside the door to the drivers room.  I returned to the family
room and ordered a car to take me to my mother's home. This caused quite a
stir down stairs judging by the background noise I heard on he phone, but
the driver took me anyway.
	We spent an hour or so driving there, which was unusual when you
consider it was only a 40 minute drive away. When we arrived, I was greeted
by a pompous looking butler at the front door. I was shown into the library
where I met an old man.
	He was 90 if he was a day, but was amazingly agile for his age. His
wizen old face showed he had been through much and thrived on his
adventures so I wasn't surprised to find out he was my
grandfather. Initially, I was scared of him. If he had the power to do all
the courageous things Mark had told me about, he could snap me like a
twig. I was also angry about what he had done to my mother and father, but
of course I couldn't show it. That just wasn't the done thing. We talked
for over an hour and I learned more about the other side of the story my
father had told me. He answered all of my questions and asked a good few
too. I sat in awe of this truly courageous man that couldn't interfere with
his grandson's upbringing. I know that sounds strange, but it was how I
felt. Our conversation was interrupted by my father and another man
entering the library.
	We sat and chatted for ages. The man was really interested in what
Mark had been up to. I tried my best not to lie, but not drop Mark in it
either.  Despite his faults, Mark was family after all. I later found out
that the man with father was Mark's father and without realising what I had
done, I had made him feel ashamed of what he had done to his son when he
was younger. Yes, Mark's father was a strong proud man with more money than
I could imagine and I made him feel ashamed.
	Father and I returned home late that night and for the first time I
could remember we slept in the same bed. It felt really good and comforting
to have my father's strong arm wrapped around me as I fell asleep. When I
awoke in the morning, father was gone and I was left to face another lonely
day with Mr Grey and the counsellor.
	It was early evening when one of the servants passed me some
information that had come from a member of the grounds staff. It didn't
really surprise me either. Mike's parents had been called to the
school. Apparently, Mike had thrown a wobbler. He had quite literally
trashed one of the sitting rooms and was threatening anyone and everyone
who came near him. He had the strength to do it to. By late evening, I was
being driven to school with father. I was the only person Mike would speak
to and we, father and I, also knew that I was the only person he could
never harm.
	We were shown to the third form's sitting room. The door was wide
open.  What a mess! I couldn't see anything that wasn't broken. There,
about ten feet inside the open door was Mike. He was holding a standard
lamp. The shade had been ripped off. The bulb had been carefully broken so
that the two prongs were still sticking out. He claimed the power was
switched on.
	"Come in." He called gently to me. "But come alone!" He yelled
immediately afterwards.
	"Stay in the doorway." Father told me. He was standing out of
Mike's sight.
	"Put the lamp down first Mike. It scares me." I said lying, I
think. He stood the lamp up beside him and I slowly edged into the room. As
I edged around the upturned couch he lunged at me.
	"Shit!" I yelled. He really scared me despite the fact that I knew
he could never hurt me. He landed on me in a sort of flying rugby tackle
and we both hit the floor with a bump his arms wrapped around me. There was
a sickening crack and a loud yell! The adults poured in like the cavalry in
some battle. Before I really knew what was going on Mike was being dragged
off me yelling out in pain.
	Something inside me snapped and I lashed out! I hit someone or
something and my fist shattered again. I continued to lash out until I had
fought my way to Mike's side.  He was laying still on the floor of the
corridor. Gently I wrapped my good arm around him and hugged him tight. My
tears were flowing like a mountain stream. What had they done to him? I
felt a stabbing pain in my behind and I realised what had happened as I too
drifted off into a land of total immobility.

* * * * * * * * *

	I would like to point out too that all of the events in the story
are entirely fictitious and although there may be the occasional sexual
encounter in British public schools, they are on the whole rare. I would
also like to say that no matter how bad the problem, suicide is NOT the
answer. There is always someone who can and will help.
	If you have any comments please email me at
teller_of_tales@hotmail.com as usual flames will be ignored. I would like
to thank Marc for his help proof reading the story and both Chris and Marc
for stirring my grey matter when it needed it.  Thanks both of you.