The Broken Boy

Chapter 8

***Again. Slight sexual content, not too bad, but again, I will star the more detailed parts.***

Chapter 8

Liam’s POV

-----PRESENT TIME-----

“Y-You were what?” I asked incredulously.

“I was raped.” He whispered.

“When?” Was all I could get out of my mouth.

“When I was twelve.” He whispered. I could hear his voice thicken with the tears that had yet to fall from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Is that why you…you know? Cut?” I asked.

“Yes. That and the abuse.” He said, letting a tear fall as he blinked. I quickly reached up and swiped it away with the pad of my thumb.

“Shhh. Niall, it’s alright, I don’t think any less of you, but I wish you would have told me earlier. I understand that it would be hard, but I understand why you don’t want to go any further with me now.” I said.

“Liam, it’s not like I don’t want to. I want to have sex with you. To give myself to you completely, but I can’t.” He let out a sob. “Not without feeling him inside of me.” At this he shuddered.

“Niall, do you know who it was that raped you?” I asked, slightly worried that it would be like an ex or even worse, his father.

“Yeah. It uh, it was my dad.” He whispered. And it was the latter. It was worse.

“Oh, Niall! I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to try and understand what it feels like.” I said, throwing my arms around him.

“It’s all in the past, he’s in jail, and I will never see him again. My brother might actually come live with me when he gets into high school after this semester.” He said, slightly perking up.

“Do you miss your family?” I asked.

“Only my brother. My mom knew what my dad was doing, but she didn’t do anything about it. The first time my dad ever raped me, my brother walked in on it and he was only seven. He’s the only family member I keep in touch with. I told him to tell my parents I died.” He said. I was shocked.

“Did he tell them?” I asked.

“Yeah! They believed him too, but they think he’s going to some fancy, nice, high school in London, when he’s coming here instead.” Niall said.

“What’s his name? How old is he?”

“His name is Greg and he should be twelve soon if I am getting my math right. He was seven when I was twelve and now I’m eighteen, so…no he’d be thirteen!”

“How long ago did you run away?” I asked.

“I ran away about two years ago, but I worked odd jobs until I had enough money for a flat and then I moved here.” He explained.

“Does he know you’re gay? Does he know you’re dating me?” I asked.

“He knows I’m gay, but I haven’t told him about us. I wanted to make sure we stayed together before I told anyone. Do you mind?”

“No. Not at all.” I said, deep in thought. That was good. I haven’t even come out to my parents. They don’t know I’m gay, much less have a boyfriend.

“Liam?” He said, nudging me.

“Wha-? What?” I said, startled out of my thoughts.

“I asked you whether or not you’ve told your parents about us.” Crap. I have to tell him.