A Fading Memory

"Hiya St-" I called as I walked in through the back door, only to be met by the most shocking sight in the whole world. Stella was mounted on the island unit, her legs and arms wrapped around a strange man, snogging him like there was no tomorrow, There is nothing more traumatic than catching your sister throat fucking a stranger. I instantly regret using the back door.

Stella gasped and looked up in shock. Her arms fell loosely at her sides and she leaned away from the man. "Oh, you're back early... "She laughed nervously, brushing her hair from her eyes.

"I screwed things up with Josh," I mumbled, dumping my overnight bag by their feet. I cannot believe I moaned Chris’ name. Josh couldn't either. He lost all trust in me and literally kicked me out of bed, shouting abuse. I couldn't work out how it happened or why I was getting off on Ian. I was fucked in the head.

"We'll talk later then. Anyway, meet Aled," Stella said, jumping down from the unit. The stranger, Aled, instantly took her hand. I didn't like the idea of Stella being in a relationship. Last time she was fucked over really bad.

Aled didn't look too bad. He was a tall man with slightly pink skin. His dark eyes seemed alive and bright with affection and lust for her. His curly brown hair was a mess from where her hands had been. His feathery jacket was amazing, like the best thing ever. I loved his shoes as well, high tops lined with gold.

"And you two are a thing now, like, seriously? You're not like, dating one day, not the next?" I teased. Stella rolled her eyes and moved from her potential lover.

"Yes. We're dating," Aled answered for her. He smiled at me, diverting his gaze to her. His eyes lit up as he watched her move around the kitchen. Nothing he did would make me ever trust him. "She's a great girl, honestly. Anyway, I've gotta be off. I'll see you another time, Sean." he held his arms out for Stella. They nestled close, his lips touching her cheek gently. I was too tired to watch their romance unfold so I slumped off up to my room, feeling awful.

I was so good at fucking things up. Josh hated me now, all because of Chris. Chris had taken over my mind, like a drug that I couldn't live without. I saw him every time I blinked or closed my eyes. He lingered in the corners so that I could see him all the time from the corners of my eyes, but he was never really there. He was dead.

I flopped down on my bed and hid my face in the pillow. I should have called Josh to apologise and explain that I was psycho who saw this fucking kid all the time. I was a shit boyfriend. He deserved a whole better than a crazy guy like me. I buried my face into my pillow and took deep breaths.

Since we moved in, my sleeping patterns had become irregular and unnatural. Stella argued it was just the stress of moving into a new home and it's normal for teenagers to need to sleep. It wasn't normal that I felt the need to sleep every hour or so. Jay complained that I was awake late at night, muttering to myself. I was turning nocturnal. Before I knew I was tired, I was asleep again, as though I could waste my life away through dreams.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Christmas day, 1998. Christian lay back in the bathtub, trailing a hand through the bubbles. It was the little things in life that made him happy. His adoptive family didn't make things much better for him. It wasn't his choice to be gay. He couldn't force himself to be attracted to women. They tried, though. Everyday he'd be forced to endure hours of rape from his replacement mother and hours of cruelty from his replacement father. And there was nothing he could do about it.

The bathroom door opened and in came his adoptive father, Eric. Eric was an enormous man with a grey moustache and no neck. He lived and breathed the sixties in everything he did. He still followed the ideology of the sixties, and he hated gay people. He adopted Chris just to beat the life out of him. Which was what he intended to do as he strolled into the bathroom.

Chris sat up, like a soldier reporting for duty. He had been forced to call him 'Master', and his mother 'Mistress'. They simply called him 'boy, faggot, slut', whatever they fancied. They struck the fear of God in him, despite their fat and ugly appearance.

Eric didn't say a word. He shut the door and locked it, approaching Chris slowly. He had planned this meticulously. Really, he couldn't help but admire the simplicity of Chris beauty. His skin was snow white and his hair was soft and glowing orange. His only flaw was his sexuality. "Lie down." He ordered, crouching down by the tub. Chris did as he was told and lay back down so the water covered his neck. The man chuckled, spitting on his forehead. He winced in terror but didn't dare move. His punishment would be more severe if he did.

Experimentally, Eric placed a hand in the water and glided a hand down Chris’ skinny frame. He made little circles in his hips, watching as the boy shut his eyes tight and squirmed beneath his touch. He was right. "You'll get off on anything." he chuckled, slapping Chris square in the face. He wasn't "getting off". He felt sick, frightened and cornered. He was scared of the man.

Eric's hand disappeared under the bubbles again, reaching for Ian's hips once more. He was strong, despite his appearance. He pinned Chris down painfully, laughing as he gasped, eyes flying open. "You're such a pretty thing, pet." Eric purred, grinding his thumb underneath his hip bone. Chris whimpered in pain, tears pricking his eyes. "It's just such a shame you've got a faggot's brain."

He placed a large hand on Chris’ neck, not squeezing him, but scaring him. He could feel his quick breathing, the way his voice box quivered with every whimper. He loved the look of terror on the child's face. He loved how his innocent beauty was magnified through his fear and pain. With an evil smile, he pushed the boy downwards so his head slipped underwater.

Chris panicked, his heart racing. He felt the hand on his hips tighten slightly, pinning him down. He struggled, desperate for air. He had seen this coming. Only days earlier they'd threatened him with the most awful of death threats. This was too simple. This would look like a suicide. He felt the life draining away from him, his ligaments burning with exhaustion. The more he struggled, the worse it became. He tried to calm down, thinking of his gorgeous red haired lover, Gerard. It did no good, his heart breaking at the imaginary image of him. He loved Gerard more than life. Gerard had always tried to help him get away from the abuse but he always refused. He always insisted he kept quiet about it. Gerard was the one, and the only one, who loved him.

Christian’s body fell limp in the water. All the pain, the depression, the anxiety, it was all gone from him. The years of fear and agony were all over. He'd felt love and pain and happiness, now it was over. Finally he had got what he'd always wanted: out. There would be no more rape or beatings. Finally, Chris could be at peace.

Eric stepped back from the bathtub and smiled and the boy. Death had washed over his pale face, closing his eyes and leaving him in peace. He admired him for a second, noticing the difference death had made to his body. He'd relaxed, muscles loosening. Eric cleaned up the room, making sure there was no water on the floor. Chris had slipped himself underwater and drowned himself. The red mark on his hip looked like a bruise, and his body was covered in enough of them for it to go unnoticed. He smiled at his work, leaving the room to phone and ambulance for the son he had found in the bathtub.

I woke up in a panic, tears streaming from my eyes. My body was shaking uncontrollably like a machine in overdrive. I was bathed in sweat and I knew it was a nightmare but it felt so real! I saw him die, I watched him fucking die! He didn't commit suicide, he was murdered. I couldn't help but feel sorry for Christian for his unjustified death. He deserved a better life than the one he got. I screamed for Stella, trying to hold on to sanity. She came running up the stairs, bursting into my room. Jay was by her side, being the nosey little bugger he was.

She was instantly by my side, her arms wrapped around my shoulders. She calmed me down slightly, rubbing my back. I eventually stopped crying, enough to explain.

"I watched him die, Stella." I mumbled distraughtly. Tears began to pour from my eyes again. "He was murdered, I saw him die!" My breathing hitched in my throat, and my body started shaking again.

She didn't say anything. Her face had gone pale and her eyes were filled with worry and dread. She was starting to believe me. There was something in the house, a greater force than what we can control. That thought scared her, it scared her more than anything.