Gay Is the Way [BoyxBoy]

Chapter 27 - Broken Soul

And now here we are as I reminisce on the absolute worst experience of my life.

I went to sleep last night with tears in my eyes, pain in heart, and suffering in my soul. It...it was so devastating yet so unexpected.

I felt violated. I felt vulnerable. I felt lifeless. I wanted to be angry at him. If there was ever a time where those emotions could fully transpire towards him, I would have every right to let it show.

But I can't. It wasn't that simple. I allowed things like love and trust get in the way of how I wanted to feel.

Walking home was one of a journey man. My body was still in shock from my assault and I had my things draped from body. I was borderline dragging my overnight bag and my book bag over my restless shoulders.

My body felt brittle and hollow like an eggshell that was expose to a force of power.

"James."

For the first time, it hurt to say his name. It held so much power at the point; more power than I've ever known. Within my chest my heart froze up by the thought of him and caught frostbite.

My memory will always remember how I cried. My eyes were broken facets as with every step I took, a tear would splash across the concrete. I remember the sounds of crickets as I left a trail of tears from his house to mine.

I walked by myself at 1 o'clock, in the darkness for a twenty minutes so I can successfully make it home. And when I got home it was all or nothing with my emotions.

James...

He...

Tears flooded my eyes. My cheeks burned from the warm tears I shed. Each trickle of water tasted like pure salt and sadness.

James...why did you...

I felt so victimized and physically distraught from everything I endured within the window of my presence there.

I lay on my bed and the moonlight glowed on half my body and for the first time, the moon's natural luminescence didn't help.

My other wrist was now slightly bluish which coincidentally mirrored my aura of depression. It hurt down there as well every time I tried to make myself comfortable so I applied aloe vera to help with the soreness. He took my body with him for only my soul returned to my bed tonight.

That wasn't the real him. But I reminded my myself that there was no excuse for it. There was simply nothing I could say to make myself come to terms of what happened was to be tolerated.

I...I...I said no. I called it out thirty-two times but none of them were heard even with another pair of ears over me.

He forcefully took off my pants and...

It felt like a never ending nightmare. He gave me kisses I didn't desire, contact that my body didn't accept, and force that hindered me helpless.

He told me I belong to no one but him. He told me that I liked it, that I knew I wanted it. He told me he loved me during it but...

...that wasn't love.

Every instance where we engaged in sexual intimacy, it was passionate and consensual. Sex is suppose to be with someone you have a deep connection with; a connection so deep that it is impossible to bury. Someone who you can smile with. Someone you trust enough to allow them to stimulate your emotions in there very most vulnerable state. To me, sex is about love and...