Lost BoyMature

He sat alone in the bathroom.  The room was harshly lit with a bald 100 watt bulb which reflected off the yellowing walls.  It had a sink without any cabinet, a tub with no shower, and a toilet complete with yellow water.

He didn't want to flush, for then the man in the house would remember he was there and expect him out of the room.  He did not want to leave his sanctuary, so he sat naked above the fouled water and stared down at his bare feet, though his eyes saw nothing.

He hurt where he had been kicked.  The toilet was a good place to sit as it didn't add pressure to the damaged area.  He had inspected the damaged area earlier and confirmed that his tailbone hadn't stood a chance against that pointed cowboy boot.  It had bent at a funny angle and had flared so at his touch that the tears had sprung fresh.

He was naked.  For some reason his clothes felt offending to him so he had stripped down to nothing before relieving himself.  His clothes lay on the floor, rolled into a careful ball.  They matched the pattern of his young life.

The loose bits inside the first folds so they could not be seen, then tight smooth folds around the outside.  It was folded as neat as possible so that if it was scrutinized it would not offend, but the real purpose was not to be noticed at all.  Being noticed did no good at all.

Hi skin was pale, looking almost white compared with his wavy red hair, which had gone back into it's natural unruly state minutes after the comb had left it that morning.  It was just like the rest of his body which had been betraying him lately.  

His eyes had been faulty, which explained the thick glasses which normally sat upon his freckled nose.  It seemed a stunted body to the wearer, since all the others his age now towered over him.  Even his brain seemed destined to harm him, since he had been deemed a nerd after the first semester and no amount of bad marks since could stop the perception.

Being a small, pale four eyed red headed geek was not a fun pass time, but it had been made all the worse by desire.  Despite the physical evidence, it did appear that puberty had hit him hard in some ways.  Ways that caused him to embarrass himself by showing interest in the opposite gender, though that had ended in disaster today too.

He could probably handle being picked on in school and mostly friendless, if only he could just find the right person in his house when he got home.

There was a man who lived in his house.  The boy knew he was a kind man.  He had many memories that told him so.  He remembered the man who had told him tales at night.  The one who had shown him how to catch and throw and kick a ball.  The one who had brought home a kitten and showed him how to feed and pet it.  The one who had held him when he was hurt and who had wiped countless tears.  He loved that man with all of his heart.

There was another man who had arrived lately.  This one smelled of beer and smoke.  He said never a kind word and no longer used his given name, but instead called him idiot almost exclusively.  This man yelled and bellowed and threatened, and now he had begun to be violent, as evidenced by his agonized tailbone.

The problem was that both men were called "Dad", and they existed in the same body of man his mother had married.  His mother was never home anymore.  She had seen too much of the bad Dad, and so she stayed out until after bedtime playing bingo which enraged the bad Dad to no end.  This was all very bad for the boy, who was the only child of the family and so he was the sole recipient of that rage.

So he sat there naked upon a toilet full of his piss, safe behind the only locking door inside the house.  He sat and he looked within himself and examined his life and what actions had led to the place he was at now.  

He knew that the man in the other room did love him, he was too smart to tell himself otherwise, but that only made the feelings of betrayal worse.  He felt many emotions sitting there, but as the minutes ticked by only one gave him any sense of power.

It was anger.  He embraced it.  

Soon he was shaking with it.  He thought of all that had been done and the trust and security that was broken, and he blamed it all in one place and focused his fury.  He wanted to hurt that man so he would hurt all his life.  only one thing he could think of was good enough, and so a plan took root in his mind.  It was the only way he could truly express his rage and despair... and it was perfect.  

He became aware of his surroundings suddenly.  A cold resolve took hold of him and he stood.  He grabbed up from the back of the toilet a boy scout whistle.  It had a rope attached with many knots in it.  It belonged to the man in the other room, though why it would be on the back of the toilet was a mystery.  

He snatched it up.  He could not think of a better instrument for his revenge.  It was sentimental to the man and it was strong.

There was a hook on the door, and it was very near the top.  The boy stood on the toilet.  He tied the end with the whistle on it to the hook, then he made a big slip knot and tied it around his neck.  It was tough to lean close enough for the short rope to get properly tied around, but he was determined so he managed it.

He stepped off the toilet.  Sweet revenge would be his.

his weight pulled suddenly on the rope and it cinched tight, creating a sudden sensation of his head expanding and a sudden reddening of vision... it lasted but a second.  

There was a release and a huge clatter, and a jarring bang as his bony body fell to the floor.  

The hook had broken.






The End

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