Cemetery boy

I’m afraid to die alone. That’s what I realised the second he disappeared.

I go downstairs after Brendon’s grand disappearing act. To be honest I feel a bit lost ...numb almost, I can’t help but think that if this was going to continue...my rather odd affair with death then I’d have to be doing a lot more of this...simply waiting: like the girl that gave out her number to a random guy she kissed...deep down she always knew that they wouldn’t call, but she waited by the phone for the next few days...hoping. That’s going to be me for who knows how long...simply waiting, waiting for him.

It reminds me of one of those surgical shows. The ones they show late at night—along with all the documentaries about the serial killers. Where they cut people up. It’s how I’m feeling right now...like I’m on display...not in the way I was at mum’s funeral...more like I‘m exposed. The doctors in white are holding me down, their pale hands gripping at my fleshless shoulders and pushing me to the metal surgical bed. My ribcage being broken into, as if it were some fancy vault at a bank, however I don’t see how my heart, beating only occasionally would be worth the venture.. Instead of getting me a new one they decide to fix the one I’ve got, filling it with needles and stiches. It hurts each time my heart beats, the wire digging in at every corner. But each time it hurts me less and less...the doctors say that it may never completely heal, that only time would tell. Yeah, that’s how the contents of my chest feels right now: and I know how to tear it backup again...I don’t want to “get better”

The kitchen was dark; I could see the silhouette of my dad and a curtain of smoke covering his face

“So my son doesn’t think girls are good enough for him?” My father begins...he always knew how to make a grand opening sentence. I could smell the alcohol on his breath from here
I smile, even though he can’t see it, “Now I don’t mind a bit of pussy every now and then”
He slams his hand against the table. I don’t even flinch, he sucked all the emotions out of me...he’s the reason I am the way I am, all because he couldn’t live without my mother
“You’re pathetic, you know that” I began “You can’t even look after the son you swore too--

***

I go to my room and wipe my face on the pillow. In the darkness I can barely even see the blood, but it’s not as if I’m not used to it by now. I should know better than to poke a dying beast with a stick by now...though every time it happens I don’t think “I should stop poking that guy”...All I think is “Next time...I’m going to get a longer stick”

I admire the people that can manage to be nasty subtly, backhand comments that you have to ponder over for the next ten minutes to realise that they’d actually insulted you. I always had to make it obvious, act like a punk and rip people apart with words. Most people pretended not to listen to me; my father is the reminder that I can still touch people’s hearts...only it’s not love....no, it’s quite the opposite of love.

“Ryan?” It’s pathetic the way my body reacts when he says me name like that. Like one of those puppies looking out for his master to come home
I can fell his fingers trace my face, it feel nice against my skin, I can feel him wipe away the dried blood, I try and talk...but my mouth tastes too much of salt and iron for me to form words

“Ryan who did this to you?” The concern was clear in his voice...concern, I can’t remember the last time I heard that in somones voice

I don’t answer, I just try to pull him closer, he moves away from my grasp

“Where’s your father?”

Again, I try to speak “Bren I made him do it...it’s not his fault”

He moves futher away from me, it’s so dark that my hands are stretched out in front of me, trying to find him. Eventually I think to turn on my lamp...all it reveals is an empty room

Am I going mad?

I hear the creak of stairs

I get up slowly, the lights so dim everything looks like a bad 1950’s horror movie in black and white. I saw Brendon walk down the stairs slowly, his black ankle long coat moving behind him as a dark ghost. I followed him silently, down the stairs to the doorway of the living room

“I could take him you know” He whispers softly without looking at me

“So that he’d never hurt you again”

I walk up behind him and see through the doorway. My father is sitting on the lounge fast asleep with an empty bottle clutched in his hand. The only light came from the television which was showing a flickering a repeat of one of those American Comedies
I wind my arms around his waist from behind, I never realised how thin he was. I don’t answer his question, instead I say simply

“Come back to bed...please” The please sounded strange on my lips

Brendon stared at my father in silence. Eventually he turned his head and instead of going to my room tugs me along to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, there was a mass of blood running down my face, it looked black under the fluorescent light with my yellow skin. Brendon made me sit on the sink as he got out the cotton buds and ointment and begin dabbing it lightly over my skin

His fingers felt nice against my skin. I closed my eyes lightly...I was so tired and grateful that Brendon didn’t feel the need to talk

I opened my eyes when he was finished, god Brendon was just...

It was the smallest thing, he was putting the things back into the cupboard neatly and he just looked so normal and wrong and right, doing this stupid small thing that meant nothing.
I waited before he turned around again to kiss him, just like last time there was that moment of surprise before he suddenly kissed back. Before he treated me as though I was glass, now his lips were hot against mine: just, if not more dominant than mine.
My hand travels down his chest slowly, his breath hitches slightly as I keep going down, he pulls me closer to him as if he needed something to hold onto as reality fades into a numb blur. My hand slips further down towards the buckle of his belt, it’s at this point that I can practically smell the fear on Brendon. I pull away to smile softly, to let him know everything was alright. I unbutton his jeans and give Brendon one last kiss on the side of his mouth
Before I slide to my knees.

Brendon lets out a low moan...I never knew he could go that low, he should be a singer now that I think about it. He pulls on my hair slightly and bows his head, as if his body can’t handle what I’m doing to him.

I believe my work in this department is complete. I get back to my feet with a smile pasted on my face, Brendon’s legs are shaking and his gripping at thesink behind him. His eyes are dilated to the tiniest dots, everything in his head is a soft blur of pleasure

“Come on” I say lightly, while gesturing upstairs his eyes managed to widen even more at the normality of it all.

“Um yeah” he licked his lips “...sure”

He wobbled slightly when he walked passed me and suddenly gripped my shoulder for support

“I can’t believe this” was all he said.

I smile at him affectionately and take him upstairs to my room.

Brendon sat down on the edge of my bed and closed his eyes...I think ‘d let him muse over that for a while, I got into bed and pulled the covers up to my shoulders

“Are you coming in or what?”

Brendon, fully clothed....including the sexy leather coat got into bed next to me. I smiled again at how innocent he seemed.

“Ryan...” he said halfway through the night “th...well I mean, thanks, but you know it’s ...umm yeah” he then gives me a butterfly kiss on the cheek

“Night Brenny bear” I mutter

He winds his arm around my torso and pulls me closer to him “Night Ry..and never call me that again”