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Monday, February 10, 2014

TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE (twelfth installment)

(12th installment)
warning...adult content

He knew he'd hurt Ghost's feelings when he'd left, earlier that evening, and he knew Ghost would sense what had happened after. He'd just go in and say how sorry he was to have treated him like that. Inside was dim, but he could make out Ghost's body laying on the couch. He went over to him and sat beside the childlike figure of his friend.

As he watched Ghost breathe, he thought of the hold Ghost had had on him all these years, and what he'd missed out on by sticking by Ghost. This made him a little angry...at himself, for letting Ghost get such a hold on him in the first place...and at Ghost, too...for being the way he was.

He knew he was being irrational, but the liquor had screwed his thinking up. He realized this, in some corner of his mind, but was helpless to stop this line of thought. He roughly shook Ghost awake. He'd show Ghost who ran things around here. From now on it'd be Steve, large and in charge.

"Get up, Ghost," he said. "We need to talk."

Ghost moaned, as Steve shook him again. Feelings were warring in Steve's brain. He was feeling manly and macho, and yet he was feeling love for this Ghost child, only a year younger than he. Grabbing Ghost, he jammed his tongue into Ghost's mouth. Ghost could hardly move, from Steve laying on top of him. His side hurt from where he'd been kicked, and now he could barely breathe from the weight of Steve on his chest, and his tongue down his throat.

He moaned again, and tried to push Steve off him. Steve had never had Ghost push him away before. He became enraged. He continued to slobber his beer breath into Ghost's face. The stench of the stale beer, and cigarettes, and the smell of the woman's flowery perfume, that still clung to Steve, was too much for Ghost to bear. He felt so sick with pain and betrayal, he turned his head as much as he could, and vomited over the edge of the couch. It didn't all land on the floor. It was in his throat, burning and choking him...and, on Steve.

"You fucking bitch!" Steve yelled. He drew back his vomit covered hand, slamming it into Ghost's face as hard as he could. The blow was so hard, Ghost heard a loud crack, as his teeth clacked together, breaking one of his front teeth into a sharp point. Blood spurted from his split lip, dripping down his face into the vomit.

Disgusted, Steve yanked Ghost off the couch, dragging him down the hall to the bedroom. He paid no attention to Ghost's cries and pleadings. Entering the bedroom, Steve threw Ghost onto the bed...the same bed where they'd loved each other many times. Steve scrabbled with their clothes, ignoring Ghost's frantic efforts to get away from him. Stripped at last, Steve prepared to show Ghost what a real man he was. He pulled Ghost's legs up, but then, Ghost put his feet onto Steve's chest and pushed with all the strength he had left in him.

Steve was propelled backwards into the wall, but Ghost had no time to get away. Steve came charging back, and slammed him back into position.

"Don't you ever do that again, you whore."

Ghost could feel Steve's hot breath on his face, and from somewhere deep in his psyche he never knew was in him, he spit into Steve's eyes, invoking a long dormant curse onto Steve. Steve was maddened even further, and bit into Ghost's shoulder. Ghost arched his back in pain, then screamed in agony, feeling himself being ripped apart. The more he screamed, the harder Steve pounded into him. At one point, to shut up the screaming in his ear, Steve hit Ghost's head with his fist over and over, until Ghost was quiet.

"There, that'll teach you to push me away," Steve growled. As he continued to rape Ghost, Ghost had the feeling his soul was leaving his body, there on the bed, being abused. He felt himself floating above, looking down at the violence happening to him. He realized this was not love, this was Steve trying to gain control. Ghost cried for his very existence, for why his soul journey had to take this path. He cried for Steve's soul, too, and prayed for his forgiveness in the next life.

Then, it was over. Steve was finished with him. He pushed Ghost aside, like a piece of trash, and stumbled out of the room. Ghost knew he'd not remember what he'd done.

Ghost felt himself re-enter his bruised and broken body. The pain was incredible...the pain in his heart was unbearable. Steve had held his life in his hands, and crushed his soul almost to oblivion. Ghost knew he would not stay here. He had to leave and never look back. But, he was in such pain, he couldn't think straight. The room seemed to whirl around from his dizziness, and he hovered on the edge of consciousness. He could feel himself blacking out. He lay there until he came to, again.

~

Sometime later, Ghost aroused, and gathered his clothes and backpack, and slipped as silently as he could out the front door...past the warding off star sign he'd painted on the porch so long ago, to keep out evil. He now realized the evil spirits he was trying to keep out, were right in the house with him all this time...laying with him, and deceiving him for all these years. He hung his head and sobbed.

Ghost knew Steve was passed out, and wouldn't come to, for hours, so he'd taken the car keys that had been thrown on the floor. Easing himself into the car, he slowly drove down the deserted road. He would only take the car as far as the graveyard on the other side of town. If he was leaving, he wanted to say good-bye to his grandmother at her gravestone, before he left for good.




Next installment coming soon!



Peace, Love, & Writing

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