The Boy in the Garden

Life gets ineteresting...

The next couple of weeks my life changes drastically. I go from the new kid no one knows, to the kid everyone wants to be. Everyone accepts me for being gay. Even the people who are against it. I sit at the popular table at lunch. Everyone likes me. It's weird. It all started with Russle inviting me to sit with them one day. Then my entire life turns around.

Well fast forward to today. Tonight there is a party at Sam Wilson's house. The second most popular guy besides Russle. (Apparently I'm number three now.) Russle was kind enough to give me a ride there. So right after school. I get dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, a red short sleeve button up, and red Converse.

I walk over to his house. When I get there he's wearing dark blue jeans, and a slightly see through purple v-neck muscle shirt. He looks amazing. He catches me staring, "See anything you like?" He winks at me just to make it that tiny but worse. "Shut up you bitch."

I smack him on the back and walk to his car. I hop in the passenger side and he hops in the driver side. He turns on the car, then the radio, and pulls out of the driveway.

About two minutes out of the driveway and I fuck up. A little song of mine comes on and what do I do? I sing. "You and me we made a vow for better or for worse. I can't believe you let me down, but the proof's in the way it hurts." I sing all the way through the song and then realize what I'm doing. I'm singing in front of him.

"What in the fuck was that, Jackson?" I turn and look at him. "I didn't know you were such an amazing singer. Why didn't you tell me?" I nervously laugh, "I'm not that good. It's not that big of a deal." He scoffs, "Dude you just sang that song better than Sam Smith could, and it's his fucking song." I smile. "Really?" He stops the car in the driveway at Sam's. "Yes. You are perfect."

That night there was dancing. A couple of girls got too drunk and tried hooking up with me. I then have them to any poor guy sitting alone I could. Hey someone should have fun night, if not me! A few hours later it's time for me to go home. I look around for Russle, and I finally find him making out with some random girl. Fucking figures. Boys are so stupid. I figured Russle was going to be busy tonight so I decide to walk home alone.

It took us about ten minutes to drive to the house. Which makes it about an hour and a half walk.

On my way home I see a man following me. I start to walk a little bit faster, and so does he. I start running. Then he does too. All of a sudden I trip and he comes up behind me and yanks me up. "C'mon boy. Stop fighting me." I look up and see a man, dark clothes, stubble, reeks of alcohol and something I can't even name. "What're you doing? Get off of me!! HELP!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!" He hits me, "Shut the hell up kid. You're coming with me." He gags me and drags me across the concrete into a house across the street. When inside he takes me up the stairs. He ties me to the bed. He rips off my shirt and pants. "Now pretty boy. I want to hear you say you want me." I squirm, and I make a muffled sound under the gag. "That's fine. Don't play along. It's only going to be worse for you in the end." He comes to me and licks my body all the way down to my underwear. He takes his hands and rips my underwear in half down my body. I shiver from the cold and fear. He laughs, "This is going to be so much fun." He unbuckles his pants, walks over to me, and says, "Try not to squirm too much. Don't want it to fall out do we?" He laughs then he gets in between my legs and pushes his body into mine. I start crying. He forces himself in and out. It seems to go on for hours. Finally he finishes on my face. "Now get the fuck out of my house you dirty slut." I get dressed, wash off my face, and then run home. I never look back. I run all the way home, then upstairs into my room, and finally cry all night.

A/N- I'm sorry that it took so long for me to write. I just knew that this chapter was coming, and it's hard for me to write something like this from my past.