Framed (Dolenzmith) (COMPLETE)

68

Michael inhaled sharply and took a shaky breath. He looked away, refusing to look in Micky's innocent eyes.

"Micky...everythin' I say will sound like a petty excuse 'n' I don't wan' it to be like that..."

Michael was forced to look at Micky when he grabbed him by the chin and made them lock gazes. Micky leaned forward and kissed Michael on the lips, leaving him breathless by the time the kiss was over.

"Then don't make it like that. I'm not here to judge you, Mike. We all make mistakes...I just want to know why."

Michael sighed and took a moment to close his eyes. Micky was too perfect, too pure. Michael didn't deserve him.

"My..." Michael took a deep breath and Micky nodded, silently encouraging him. "My father raped my momma every night for as long as I can remember. That's how I was conceived...she got pregnant a few other times afterwards—I was the first—but he always beat the baby outta 'er. I...I remember him sayin' that I was an annoying li'le pest and he didn't wan' another one like me."

Micky swallowed a lump in his throat, but didn't say anything. He was afraid Michael would stop if he said anything.

"She wanted to leave and take me with 'er, but she was always afraid he would come af'er us 'n' hurt me. So she stayed. She stayed for me. Then..." Michael stopped again, blinking away tears, and Micky waited patiently.

"I saw him kill 'er right in front of me," Michael whispered. "I was fourteen and he...he raped 'er to the point where she was too exhausted to do anything. Then he...he beat 'er... 'til she jus' wasn't breathin' no more.

"I wanted to run away. I wanted to run away so badly. But my dad...he was never convicted for Momma's murder and after she died, he was always bringin' ladies 'round. They were always so drunk or drugged up they couldn't remember nothin' and he...he..." Michael squeezed his eyes shut.

"He what, Mike?" Micky whispered.

"He made me rape one of 'em. I was fifteen and she...she couldn't have been any older than seventeen or eighteen. I remember his exact words too. He said...he said... 'C'mon Mike, I'll show you how to fuck a bitch real good.' It was so...so terrible...b-but after that, I c-couldn't stop. It was like a drug and I couldn't...I couldn't stop...I c-couldn't—"

Michael broke off with a sob and Micky, alarmed, wrapped his arms around the older man and held him close.

"Shh...it's okay Michael...it's okay...you don't have to continue if you don't want to."

"I was stuck in a fog," Michael whispered. "I was stuck in a fog for eight years 'til you came along and...and when John...I was so angry...it was like I was comin' up for air after almost drownin'. Eight years. Christ, eight years!"

"It's okay Mike," Micky whispered, running his fingers through his hair. Michael looked up at him, tears flowing down his cheeks—it was the first time he'd ever seen Michael cry.

"I used to wish I was never even born. But you... You saved me, Micky," he whispered.

"Mike—"

"You saved me."