A Spirit's Touch

Twenty. 1967 🔞

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains physical violence and references to homophobia, please read with caution.

Part Two

Spitting blood into the sink, The young dark haired, tan skinned underweight man named Lyle stared helplessly at the pathetic young fool in the mirror. He inspected the cut lip, swollen cheek and black eye he had just received as a punishment for trying to speak out.

His abuser, a cruel, vindictive man, named Don, real name Donald Travis, was still in his home. He laid claim to Lyle's sofa in the main room and was casually enjoying a cigarette while keeping up with affairs on the modest fifteen inch TV.

Lyle Watkins grimaced as he heard the distasteful sound of Don cracking a laugh. What can be so funny about watching the news?

Hiding in the bathroom all evening was not going to be an option, Lyle knew he would have to face the brutal man soon.

"You're out of beer!" The voice was distant but very much still loud and clear.

"Then go home to your wife," Lyle muttered under his breath. He splashed water onto his face and took several deep breaths to compose himself.

"Find strength you fool. Stop letting this man push you around, using you like meat. He is a brute and a bully. You are better than this." His voice lowered and became more sinister, "You will find a way to beat him. You will punish him for what he has done. Do not let him win"

The attempted pep talk was over, he knew now he had to face his tormentor once more. He opened the bathroom door cautiously as if expecting Don to be stood on the other side waiting for him. Lyle stepped out slowly.

"How are you feeling?" Don asked with surprising comfort as the younger man joined him in the front room.

"I..." Lyle was taken aback by the bizarre apparent caring words.

"I still love you, Lyle, but you must learn when to keep shut. You may think the police will throw me in jail, but what do you think they'll do to a little buggar boy like you?" He sounded caring but Lyle could still feel the malice behind his words.

"I'm sorry," Lyle managed to say.

"I know," Don replied coldly. "Now, I will see myself out. I need to go see Julie and get an apology outta her if you know what I mean." Don cackled as he waved a bloodied fist in front of the already bruised man.

"Wait, no, you can't! She didn't mean any of it. It was all me!" Lyle begged, he grabbed the sleeve of Don's silk shirt.

"Get off me, boy," Don, twice the mass as he was compared to Lyle, shoved the smaller man into the stairs. He left before caring to see if Lyle was ok after hearing an obvious thump against the railing. "I'll tell Julie you give your regards."

Lyle cried out in pain as he stood to his feet. His hip hurt but he moved freely enough to know there was no significant damage.

Lyle stammered awkwardly to the kitchen, he had to phone Julie to warn her to get out of her house. Lyle grabbed the handset from the wall and began punching at the numbers.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Lyle repeated frantically.

No answer.

"Fuck!" Lyle slammed the handset down on the receiver and picked it up again to redial. Still no answer. Lyle threw the handset down again.

He moved towards the sink and reached inside the cupboard underneath and produced a half bottle of gin. He took several large swigs and went back to the telephone.

He dialled again. No answer. He dialled again. This time there was an answer.

"Yes," Julie's voice answered sleepily. "I'm kinda busy-"

"Julie! You need to get out of there!"

"What? Who is this?"

"It's me, Lyle! Don is coming to see you!"

"Lyle? What are you talking about?"

Lyle made a frantic turn with the handset still in hand, "Don knows! He is coming to see you!"

"Don isn't coming here until Friday, are you ok Lyle?"

"No, listen. Don knows what we did. Get out of there now!"

"Are you serious? He's on his way here? Fuck!"

"Yes! Please get out of there, now!"

A distant doorbell rang followed by silence.

"Shit!" Julie hissed. A loud hammering knock shook even Lyle.

"Don't hang u-" Lyle started before the line went dead. "Shit!" He tried calling again, but there was no answer.

Lyle waited a few minutes before trying again. The phone answered after a few rings, "Julie!"

Lyle was answered by a distressed muffled scream and a loud thud. Silence followed.

"Julie! Julie!"

Suddenly a heavy breath came close to the receiver. A short inhaled laugh and a voice chilled the young man. "Lyle, you two have been up to no good, haven't you?"

"What did you do to Julie, you monster?"

"Julie is sleeping. I think me and you need to continue our chat."

"I'm calling the police!" Lyle exclaimed angrily.

"If you hang up on me you will regret it!" Don spat.

"Fuck you!" Lyle screamed and he slammed the handset down once more. He picked it up immediately to call the emergency number. He knew it was possible that Don could easily come back to see him that night. Lyle was certain he would.

"Which service do you require?"

"Police!" Lyle said firmly. He proceeded to tell the police everything, about how he and Julie were once lovers of the brutal Don. How he was abused and the harm Don may have just caused his friend.

The police were sceptical at first and were prepared to call upon Lyle himself to arrest him for buggery since the legislation to legalise relations between men still had not quite passed yet.

It had taken Lyle twenty minutes to convince them to send someone to check on Julie due to lack of evidence outside of a gay man's word.

"We're sending someone to you, Mr Watkins."

"Thank you," Lyle hung up the telephone. He knew he would likely be arrested himself but he was prepared for the worst. He had to make sure he and Julie were safe from Don above all else.

A few minutes later the door knocked. "Thank god," he exclaimed. Lyle let his guard down too easily and opened the front door without a second thought.

The door was forced open as soon as Lyle turned the latch. Don pushed his way into the hallway, knocking Lyle backwards into the stairs.

"You're dead, you little prick," rage coated Don's words with venom as he grabbed Lyle by the collar and struck him hard.

Lyle cried out in pain and begged him to stop, but to no avail. The punches kept coming until his face was a pool of blood. The last thing Lyle saw before blacking out was three police officers pulling the larger man away from him, then he was out.

"Call an ambulance!" Came the very last words Lyle heard that night.

***

Word count- 23349

A/N- Welcome to part two. Thank you so much for reading this far. We will return to the sixties several times to learn Jersey's origin. I hope you enjoy.

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