"Pretty boy," It was sing-songy. The way it was almost always called out. As if it didn't mean pain in the impossible places. At the hand of someone who loved me, "Pretty boy, you won't leave me, right? My good little boy won't leave me because he loves me, right?"
He laughs, shaking his head. The man in front of me, tall and large, smiled. The third tooth to the right on the bottom was broken. Someone with a broken tooth but no eyes. But I wasn't scared, I just wrapped my arms around the man's shoulder in a tight hug.
Then a pain in my ass made me jump and cry. I tried to pull his arms away but the man just tightened his arms around me and laughed. The sweet voice we becoming much more taunting.
"Pretty boy, you said you wouldn't leave me," Another jolt of pain. Then they suddenly shifted so I was under the man and trying to squirm out, "You're pretty little boy is mine-"
"N-no, stop! Stop-p!"
"Good little boy, you'll always be my good little boy. Right here with me," Hands began to roam all over my body while I kicked and punched at the man on top of me. And the man did not yield to any of it.
"Get y-your hands off-f me! Stop!" It was weak because my breathing was beginning to shorten. The hands gripping and pulling and pushing and prodding.
"Why would we?" It wasn't the man's voice. It was someone else.
I couldn't move, hands still touching me despite the fact the man was no longer there. Instead, I was hit by an incredible weight. The sound of glass shattering overcame me, my eyes open caught giant shards that made me scream in pain.
"You never did any good, why would we?"
I scratched at my eyes, no longer able to fight off the hands. I scratched and scratched until I opened my eyes and the light was so dark. But there were still figures I could see.
Glass. Blood. Stars. Bodies.
I sat up straight in the chair of the back of a car, my body completely fine. I leaned forward, trying to see who the bodies were. The families would want to know why their sons were stuck halfway through a dashboard.
"Took the two people who shouldn't have ever died," I suddenly fought to get out of the car so I could go for help. The hands kept me in place, "In place of a good little boy who should have died."
"You need to die. You need to die-"
I thrashed and thrashed to get out, "No! I didn't mean it! I didn't want them to get hurt!" Why didn't they understand? I loved them. I didn't mean for them to get hurt.
"Die, little boy, why couldn't you just die."
She tried to soothe him when he woke. But the pain wasn't something that just went away when the dark still taunted him.
YOU ARE READING
Praying Under Pressure
Teen FictionElliot Fernandez is a man who has only ever done whatever expects of him. So when he hits his wit's end, he gathers all his courage and moved across the country for his Masters degree. But mostly to take control of his passive position. A move he al...
