Looking behind me quickly and seeing nothing I keep going, running, trying to get away. Trying to escape. I turn down a dark, deserted street, lined with large houses with dark windows and perfect lawns, complete with recently mowed lawns and flower gardens. Slowing down I duck down behind a car, my breathing erratic, and my chest heaving, trying to get enough oxygen to my lungs.
Without it I would die, although sometimes I don’t think that’s a bad thing.
My legs are shaking as I sit down on the cold, hard concrete, leaning against the car. My heart’s beating fast and loud. Which is probably why I don’t notice his footsteps until they’re so close that I can see his shoes from underneath the car the once white laces only a foot or two from my hand. I close my eyes and take a deep breath trying not to make a sound for fear that he’ll find me.
“Joel, I know you’re hiding from me, and I will find you Joel. It’s only a matter of time.”
I open my eyes slowly at the sound of his voice and hold back a sob only to let it out when he takes a few steps forward and sees me before he smiles at me, that same smile he wears as he beats me, fucks me, and fucks me over. That same smile that I used to love when we were kids.
“Joel, why do you insist on making this harder than it has to be? Haven’t you learned by now? You’re never going to get away Joel. I own you.”
He reaches down and grabs my arm, pulling me up and dragging me behind him to “our” house. Once inside he shoves me up the stairs to the bedroom and tears my clothes off, piece by piece, quickly followed by his own.
I’m numb as he enters me, numb as bites harshly into my neck, drawing blood and stifling his moans, numb as he finally finishes himself off and pulls out of me. He smiles at me again and tells me to clean myself up, that I look like shit, that I should take better care of myself. He leaves, closing the door softly behind him as I turn and start to cry into the pillow, knowing that he won’t hear. And that if he does, he won’t come back.
Finally I pull myself up out of bed, not bothering to cover myself, knowing that he’ll be downstairs, watching T.V. or playing with the dog. Not bothering to see if I’m alright. He knows that I have nowhere to go, no one to run to.
I make sure to lock the bathroom door after me, not bothering to look into the mirror, knowing I won’t like what I see and walk over to the shower. As soon as the waters hot enough I step into tub, and start scrubbing. Trying to wash away the memories of him, but succeeding only in washing his cum away from my chest and abdomen.
When my skin is red, raw from all the scrubbing I step out looking down at my feet, not wanting to see myself in the mirror. That is until I see a familiar pair of chucks dangling from the counter. My head snaps up and I smile, for the first time in months, at the figure sitting on the counter next to the sink.
“Billy! When did you get here?” He shakes his head and gets down, wrapping his arms around me, softly kissing the top of my head before pulling back and looking me straight in my eyes.
“We need to leave.” He tells me, completely serious, his blue eyes showing his concern. His concern for me.
“Why?” I ask him as he grabs my hand and leads me back to “my” room, helping me dry off and get dressed.
“Now’s not the time to talk. I’ll explain it all in the car.” I only nod and put all of my trust into him as he leads me back downstairs, past all the deceiving pictures on the hallway walls, past all the bad memories that were caught forever, in just a click of a button. And as we pass the living room I see the figure of a body resting on the couch. The figure of a dead body, the remains of the one person who made my life hell for the past five years.
“Shhhh…yes, now come on we have to leave.” I follow him out the door, not glancing back, not needing too, only understanding that what Billy did was for me.
He killed Benji for me.