One other good thing about having sex with Kyle is I sleep really fucking well afterward. Sadly, Kyle seems to have this weird ability to wake up whether he’s set an alarm clock or not, and he decided I should wake up too. I whined as he tried to wake me up.
"Wake up, gorgeous," he said.
"Nu." There is no way I am getting out of bed today, let alone going back to that fucking hospital to clean up puke and piss and be called a fag all day.
He kissed the top of my head, "C'mon, you've got to get ready for work." I stole the duvet from him, wrapping myself in it so it created an impenetrable fortress. “Rayn, c'mon," he prodded my fortress, so I pulled my defences tighter around me, trying to keep the intrusion out and the sleepy comfy warmness in. He prodded again. I just ignored him, creating a hole on the other side so I could breathe. “Rayn.” I let out another whine. I wanna sleep and ignore the world. "Please, gorgeous."
“M’not going to work,” I informed him grumpily.
"You have to."
“No, I don’t. I’m not going and you can’t make me.”
"You'll get fired if you don't go in."
“I’ll live.” He let out a sigh. I felt really childish about it, considering I was twenty three, but... I didn’t care. Well, I didn’t care til I peeked out from under the duvet and saw Kyle looking kinda upset. Did it really mean that much to him? “Dun wanna go,” I said, giving him my puppy eyes in the hope he’d give in and let me off.
“No one likes me. I wouldn’t mind so much, but they insulted my mom.” And we all know that’s just plain nasty even if your mom’s still alive.
"You don't know no one likes you."
“I do, though. Even the ambulance crew hate me, and they have nothing to do with me.” I felt myself getting upset over the memory of them getting me in trouble all over again.
"I'm sure they don't, gorgeous."
“You weren’t there, though.”
"It'll be better today, I promise," he smiled, but I just kept looking at him. I was beginning to feel less like a stroppy kid and more like a kicked puppy. Was he really gonna send me back there? "What?"
“Pinky promise?” I asked in a small voice, knowing I was probably gonna regret giving in so easily. Bullies are always gonna be bullies. They never changed in school, so why would they change now they’re old enough to work? They’re just different faces, different names. Same shit I have to put up with.
Kyle nodded, and I stuck out my pinky. He pinky promised me, so I didn’t have much choice but to get out of bed and start getting ready. Really, really slowly. Because I really, really didn’t wanna go. Kyle didn’t seem to care much about that, instead trying to get me to hurry up because otherwise I’d be late, and that would be the end of the world. I sulked as much as I could, managing to forget to say goodbye to him even though he’d been stood right in front of me, planting a kiss on my forehead just before I left.
As expected, the day was just as shit as the one before. In fact, I think my outburst over my mom had made things worse. Wonderful. This time, I figured I’d go and attempt to unwind in a cafe nearby at lunch, with a sub and a needle of glorious heroin. Not much, mind. I wanted to be fired for being late or something, not because I take drugs.
I felt like the antisocial emo kid as I picked a table in a corner, just in case I wasn’t the only one who came here for lunch break. I was on edge as it was; the nearest cafe was a Starbucks, and although I was pretty sure it wasn’t the one Matt worked in, I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous anyway. I sat down and started nibbling on my sub, doing my best to be invisible as I did so. There’d been a newspaper abandoned on my table by whoever sat here last. I didn’t have much else to do until I’d finished eating, so I flipped it open and leant forward, reading the small black print.
I didn’t get too far though, before an all too familiar voice piped up.
“You little bitch,” the irritable voice said. I looked around, praying I was wrong. I wasn’t. Matt was here. I thought he didn’t work in this one. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna die. I couldn’t make myself move as he stormed over to me. I was the total clichéd rabbit in headlights. Except that being hit by a car was probably gonna be a lot less painful than what Matt had in mind for me. "I've been looking forward to the day I'd see you again," he told me, yanking me to my feet by my wrist. My sub fell to the floor and the salad filling spread out across the floor, threatening to slip me up if I made a wrong move.
I think the only things that could make this day worse is if either my dad turned up, or if Kyle split up with me. A small, pathetic little whimper escaped my lips as I tried to get free of him. He held on too tight though. There would be a hand print bruise on my arm for days. I started to panic properly as he dragged me outside into a side alley, trying to bite his hand in an attempt to get loose. He still had a frighteningly strong grip on me, though. As soon as we were far enough down the alley, he hit me.
Pride? Never had any. I started begging for him to let me go like a fucking professional.
“Why should I?”
"Because I'm really sorry. Please, I'll do anything," the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Oh. Shit.
“Anything?” he smirked. I bit my lip, feeling the rough brick wall pressing up against my back as he pinned me to it.
"I wonder if you're as good a fuck as Kyle"
“Shit, no. Please, no,” I pleaded, tears ready and willing to spill down my face.
"No? I thought you said you'd do anything?" he pulled on my hair.
“I know. I didn’t mean that, though,” I mumbled, feeling well and truly pathetic. Well done, Rayn. This is definitely out of the pan and into the fire.
"Well then, how are you gonna make it up to me for shooting me in the fucking face?" he demanded angrily.
“I don’t know,” I whimpered, “I don’t know.” Anything but that. My heart felt like it was about to implode as I felt his lips pressing against my neck. I couldn’t really do much more than hunch my shoulders to shield my neck, given that he was holding me against the wall too tightly for me to do anything other than breathe.
"Maybe I should even out the scores a little. An eye for an eye and all that.” I couldn’t tell if he was talking to himself or not. Either way I was fucking scared. He held my wrists up above my head with one hand. Was I really that weak? Apparently so, because funnily enough, I still couldn’t get away from the psychotic bastard.
That was when he pulled out a knife and held it to my throat. Panicking again, I froze, hoping that if I stayed still enough, he might get bored and go away. I mean, that logic used to work on bullies in the school yard, right? His smile was pure evil and I started to cry. I was glad I’d been for a piss already or my eyes probably wouldn’t have been the only things to leak.
"I'm sorry, I take it back, I'll fuck you. Please let me go," I sobbed, but Matt just chuckled.
"Well now, that wouldn't be very fair. See, this little baby," he sort of gestured at the scar I’d given him. "It's had a very negative effect on my life. And fucking you? Well, it just wouldn't have the same effect." Oh, believe me, it’d have a pretty negative effect alright. He trailed the knife up to my face. "I wonder if Kyle'll still think you're pretty with a scar." Instinctively, I tried to move my face away from the blade. Matt sort of pressed the elbow of the arm holding my hands up into my throat, and I felt myself go still again. "Where should I cut you?” he asked, looking like he was thinking hard about it.
“Please don’t,” I begged with him quietly, my tears slowly soaking into the neck of my uniform.
“Because I’m sorry. Please, please don’t hurt me.”
"Sorry doesn't mean shit," he shouted in my face, the anger on his face returning to that evil grin. Oh god, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. He’s gonna kill me over a scar on his head. Apparently my bladder wasn’t as empty as I thought. He moved the knife down to my damp crotch, smirking. "I bet your darling Kyle wouldn't love you without this." I was beyond begging by this stage. I was just a tearful, snotty, pissy mess, gasping for air as I reached the point of hysteria.
He undid my pants, and got my boxers down far enough that I hung out of them. He pressed his knife to the base of my dick and I genuinely thought that was it. He was gonna go ahead with it, and I was gonna lie in a puddle of blood and snot until I either died from blood loss or someone from work actually cared enough to come find me.
A noise distracted Matt literally at the last possible second. I have no idea what it was, but Matt decided it was enough to stop him from cutting my dick off.
"This isn't over yet,” he warned me, disappearing off. I slid to the floor, still crying like a bitch and frightened out of my wits.
I am never going to risk going in a coffee shop again in my life. Ever.