Tell My Father {COMPLETED}

Chapter Twenty-Five: Touched

Chapter Twenty-Five

Touched

When Jade opened his eyes to see early morning light coming in through his bedroom window, the very first sensation that shot through him was pain. At first, Jade assumed the pain was from his knife wound. However, as he attempted to sit up, sharp stinging pain shot up his back from hips and thighs.

Flinching, Jade struggled upright, then gripped onto the nearest bedpost. He slipped his other hand out across his mattress for more support, but his fingers froze when his fingertips brushed against a wet spot.

Jade frowned, and quickly drew his hand away. There was a wet spot on his bed, he saw. For a long, frozen moment, Jade stared stupidly at the spot. Then, very gradually, like a tiny stream of freezing water trickling slowly down his back, it occurred to Jade what that wet spot looked like. It looked like what was left on a stripped down bed after there had been a sexual encounter in that bed.

Jade shifted quickly away from the spot, holding out his contaminated hand like it was diseased. The first conclusion Jade instantly came to was that he had had a wet dream. But he didn't remember having an erotic dream. He didn't remember dreaming at all. He remembered nothing at all.

Sudden fear seized him, and Jade hoisted himself unsteadily to his feet and stepped quickly away from his bed. It was then that it suddenly hit him that he had not fallen asleep on his bed. He had fallen asleep on the floor. Perhaps he had moved in the night and didn't remember it because he had been high...

No, he had been too drugged out even to get up on his feet. Why would he have moved back, anyway? Had someone...moved him?

Jade's heart was suddenly racing. Again, he wracked through his brain. Still, however, he could remember nothing. All he could feel was pain...pain coming from his hips...between his hips...

Jade suddenly felt sick to the stomach. He lifted a shaking hand and pressed it against his abdomen. He flexed the fingers of his contaminated hand. The substance was sticky...thick, wet...Jade knew what it was. But he also knew it was not his own.

The seventeen-year-old refused to allow his mind time enough to catch up. He moved suddenly over to his closet, threw open the door, then pulled out a towel and a fresh set of clothes.

He had to shower...had to wash it away...get it off...just...just...get if off.

Jade left his room and made his way quickly to the bathroom. He entered the bathroom, locked the door behind himself, then quickly stripped. Avoiding glimpsing himself in the mirror, Jade stepped into the shower, then hurriedly turned on the water.

Under the hot flow of water, Jade still felt chilled to the bone. The sweat, the dirt, the blood, the evidence was all being washed away. But the pain in Jade's body and the sickness in his heart was not being carried off with the water.

Jade seized a nearby bar of soap and rubbed it quickly between his hands. He scrubbed his body vigorously, scraping at his skin with his fingernails. Yet, he still felt dirty.

A sob escaped Jade's lips and he found he was crying. Something had changed. Something had been broken. Something terrible had happened. Jade felt as if his body had disowned him, chosen a path he never would have touched. That face, that beautiful, cursed face. The pretty eyes, the soft lips, the lovely curved chin. The whole thing had suddenly been ripped from Jade's being. It hated him, and he hated it. He could never fathom accepting it again. He could never imagine pretending to accept it again. It had ripped out his heart and thrown it in the dirt, all the while claiming to be there for him.