Jump Then Fall [BoyxBoy]

Chapter Three - Skinny Love

CHAPTER THREE. Skinny Love.

I left the hospital that night after visiting hours, about 8 P.M., wondering if it was all a lie.

If Taryn was just saying anything and everything he could to keep me from jumping a few days ago. Maybe he was a liar, maybe even this mysterious stranger, gorgeous and innocent and serene as he seemed, was just as rotten to the core as everybody else. And to think, I actually fell for it. What an idiot I am. I was actually believing in sunrises and laughter and falling leaves for goodness sakes. I was actually believing in love. And for those few brief moments in time, my life seemed pretty damned good. So much for a brighter future. In the end, I wouldn't be sorry to see this place go.

I kept walking down the dark street and had almost gotten all the way to my house, when I heard a car screeching behind me. I turned around, blinded by the headlights at first as it turned towards me, and then it stopped only inches in front of me. Both side doors swung open, and it was the kid I was fighting with in class and a few of his buddies. About five in all, they were on me in an instant and the first thing he did was push me down. It was all happening so fast that I didn't have time to react, or think, or even scream. My house was only a short distance away, but there was no way for me to reach it. I kept trying to get up, but they surrounded me and pushed me back down, again and again. Then I felt someone punch me in the stomach, hard. All he air inside left me in a single breath, and I doubled over and fell to my knees. That's when the main boy walked over to me, looked me dead in the eye, and punched me right in the face, knocking me down on my side.

Then I felt a harsh kick hit me square in the back, and then more, then more, and the whole group began to kick and stomp me as I lie there on the ground, still trying to catch my breath. By the time I felt the pain from one kick, several more had bruised me in other places. I could see the lights on in my house, but somehow I knew that my mother was too drunk by now to help me, not that she would even be conscious. So I did the only thing I could. I balled up and bared it. All of it.

As they continued to kick and hurt me, I thought about my life, about life in general, and I knew that there would be no more pain after this. Not ever. Not for me. I just let them hurt me, allowed them to get in their last shots before I ended it all. It was all I could do, not just about their kicking, but with my life. With my parents divorce, my mother's drinking, our low income, my careless teachers, my homosexuality, my father's abuse, Sonny's illness, the spitballs, the lack of friends, the pain, the suffering; all I could do was take it. Roll myself into a tight little ball, and take it! Hoping that it'll pass soon, hoping the pain will one day be over. But I was tired of waiting, and as soon as this one last torment was over, I was going to go out to that lake and throw myself in. And this time I meant it! A friend once told me to never give in to any impulse that required hesitation. This time though, there would be no hesitation. This simply had to stop, and it had to stop tonight.

Finally, the kicking had slowed down, and they all gave me a few good hard ones to leave a lasting impression. And then, as my body went numb from the beating, the leader of the pack walked over to me and said,

"You're not so tough now, are you punk?"

And he spit in my face.

As the wet saliva sickeningly traveled down the side of my face, crawling over my lips and dripping to the ground below, I heard them all get in their car and speed away into the night. I must have laid there for another twenty minutes before getting the strength to get on my feet. Every inch of my body hurt, and I stumbled and struggled to walk the last few steps to my house.

When I opened the door, bleeding, crying, sore; I saw my mother laying on the floor again. Still conscious, but beyond pathetic. She smiled up at me lazily and actually asked me how my day was. She was so wasted she couldn't even tell that I was beaten up outside of my own house! My clothes were torn, my hair a mess, I was full of bruises and I had tears in my eyes. I mean, look at me! But she was too out of it to notice, too drunk to care. As I walked past her, she grabbed onto my leg and smiled.