Speak Loudly.

Chapter 10

Date: April 7, 1997
Joey: Age 12
Shane: Age 13
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{Joeys Pov}

I sat in my bed, playing games on my phone. It was a cloudy day outside and I could swear my bones were reduced to dust inside of me, the way they always rubbed against each other. I shut my eyes and let my phone fall to my lap. I reached self consciously to my left side, where Shane's old hoodie that no longer fit me at all anymore, laid on my bed. I slept with it every night it wasn't here, and tried to find a new spot that smelled even stronger of Shane. I breathed heavily and tried to imagine Shane kissing me again.

Dang, we haven't kissed in so long. Maybe a couple months. We hung out as much as possibly, though.

I tried to remember what it felt like when he kissed all over me and ran his fingers through my hair and carried me on his back.

My mother knocked and entered without a 'Come in!' so the knock was basically pointless.

I tried to cover my bare torso as my mom stared at me.

Joey: Mom! What do you want?

I asked her, wanting her to leave me alone with the thought of Shane again. My phone buzzed and it was Shane asking me to hang out on text.

Debra: Joey, I think it's time we took you to a hospital.

I shook my head at the thought.

Joey: No.

She continued.

Debra: When was the last time you got a check up? Or played a sport? Or ran a mile?

I thought for a second and shook my head again.

Joey: It doesn't matter. I'm not going to a hospital.

My mother rolled her eyes.

Debra: They are going to think we beat you, Joey! We know about the bruises.

I tried to blink away what was happening. I knew for sure, this is where I knew,

My life will never be the same.

Debra: Come on, Joey. Let's go get in the car.

I threw on a shirt slowly as my bones creaked. I walked out of my room in a big T-shirt and flannel pajama pants, clutching Shane's hoodie in my hands.

I cried getting in the car. I knew this was my lost battle.

{Shane's Pov}

I tossed a soft stress ball up and caught it over and over again while lying in my bed. My phone laid beside me as I waited and waited for Joey to text back; but he never seemed to.

I got out of bed at the sound of my dad yelling about breakfast and pans and pots smashing.

Shane: Morning.

I mumbled, walking to the cabinet to grab a granola bar. I threw the empty box away after grabbing the last one.

Shane's dad: Morning, faggot.

I sighed. He was back yet again. I leaned against the refrigerator and stared back at him reading the newspaper and eating his little-too-burnt pancakes.

I took a bite of the bar and talked with my mouth full,

Shane: What? Cocksucker got old? Or ass fucker? Or the old and classic queer boy?

My dad rolled his eyes.

Shane's dad: When you suck Joey's dick do you jiggle the balls too? Or do you just focus on the base you later shove up your own ass?