Valentines Day Sucks

Brock's Story

Valentines Day sucks. I wandered the streets seeing all of the lovey-dovey couples; it made me sick to see them. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that they are happy. It's just

me

that's miserable.

As I walked, I passed by another couple, a tall handsome man about my age and his partner, a petite blonde. "Thankyouthankyou thankyou!" she says as she lifted her hand to look at the new ring on her finger. I stumbled into the next alley and lost the little I had eaten yet again.

Why you ask? That was me last year. I was a fool. It started almost eight years ago. I can remember it all so well…

~~~~~

I suppose a few introductions are in order. My name is Brock Champlain. I'm twenty-three years old, stand right at six feet tall and weight in at one hundred and seventy-five pounds. I have what's referred to as a swimmers physique. Duh! Might that be because it's my preferred form of exercise?

When I was a sophomore in high school, I met Wanda Swenson. She was five feet four inches of auburn haired perfection. She was the same age as me and was absolutely gorgeous. We attended the same high school, Brentmore Senior Prep, a very nice, very expensive, private school. My parents were both working two jobs to be able to afford the tuition and it was tearing them apart. We were both sixteen as our birthday made us start school a year behind our age-mates.

The week before I started at Brentmore as a freshman I had begged my parents to transfer me to a public school and save their marriage but they

would not

hear me. I knew with absolute certainty in my freshman year that my family was going to disintegrate. It took four years and my choice of college for it to happen but it was there for anyone but my parents to see. I had gone to the counselor at school and unloaded what was happening. I made sure that Ms. Timmons could not say

anything

to my parents without my consent before I told her what was happening. All she could say was that it was up to them to work it out and that it was not my fault.

Like hell

it wasn't. If it were not for the tuition to go to this damned hellish private school, they would most likely not be in this mess. She counseled me for four years and I still keep in touch with her. Maybe I'll call her later.

However, I'll get to that later. I was walking to school alone, as I did every day, thinking about how my mother and father were drawing farther and farther apart. Why would they not see it? Why would they not listen? I sighed and then heard a scream coming from the construction lot across the street. I ran across the street and found Wanda Swenson on the ground struggling with Theodore 'call me Teddy' Waller, a senior. He was tearing open her uniform blouse and bra. Her torn jacket lay a few feet away and I could see that she had put up a fight before being knocked to the ground near the stack of plywood sheeting. Her arms were scratched and bleeding and a large bruise was forming on her right cheek under her eye. The remains of her skirt showed that her white and pink panties were intact as yet but Teddy was moving to change that as I watched.

The whole school was abuzz with the news that Wanda had publicly refused to be '

seen in public with an overgrown orangutan like him

' after he had beaten up the last boy to ask her out. She had never been on a date according to the rumor mill and Teddy had made it clear to anyone that would listen since she started at Brentmore that he was going to be the only boy that she

would

date.

He was saying exactly that in the cafeteria at lunch the day before when she had confronted him, made her triumphant statement, and threatened to go to the police if he did not leave her alone. It had humiliated him and only the presence of the staff had kept him in check I think.

I took in all of this in a split-second. Rage welled up within me like I had never felt before and I rushed the attacking senior. My first blow was one that was decidedly unfair. It brought back memories of my father saying, "When fighting for yourself fight fairly and defend yourself. When fighting to protect someone use anything and every weapon you can find. When protecting someone there are no rules, no right and wrong, no fair or unfair. There are no rules at all except to make

damned

sure you win, your lives might depend on it. Remember when someone attacks you or you are defending someone you have to assume that your survival is at risk or they would not risk the attack."

Wanda had seen me coming and I think, at first she thought I was going to help rape her. Then she saw the look of fury on my face and decided I was there to help. I took two running steps before planting the toe of my size twelve running shoe squarely between Teddy's balls. He rose up giving a silent shriek, his hands racing to his shattered groin, and my follow up punch to the back of his skull dropped him like a rock.

Wanda scrambled out from under Teddy as he fell, retrieved her cell phone from her bag, and was on the phone to the police dispatcher before Teddy had hit the ground, out cold. I took off my uniform jacket, placed it within easy reach of Wanda, and backed off. I had heard how rape victims were very afraid of men after an attack. I knew that I did

not

want to frighten her anymore than she already was. She took the jacket and wrapped herself up in it, shivering from shock and reaction.

The police and EMTs arrived and took Teddy to the hospital. They called an ambulance for me as well. As they arrived I felt a lancing pain in my hand and it was only then that I realized I might have broken my hand on Teddy's thick skull. It was even now swelling and purpling with the bruising it had taken. They took all three of us to the hospital for treatment. It seems that Teddy was going to lose a testicle as well as his freedom. My kick had ruptured the

vas defrens

, the cord running to the testicle, on the left side, severely. The only choice was removal. Complications during the procedure ended up requiring the removal of the other testicle as well.

I, on the other hand, had broken one of the metacarpal bones, the long bones between the finger and the wrist, in my right hand. Wanda had had evidence collected from her fingernails in the form of skin samples. While we were being treated we both gave statement to the officers about the attack.

Teddy's parents arrived and began to demand my arrest for the unprovoked assault on their precious baby boy. He could not possibly be responsible. They were however at a loss to explain what Teddy was doing there three blocks from Wanda's house, four blocks from mine and sixteen from his own, at ten after seven in the morning, a full fifty minutes before classes start. The school was three blocks in the other direction, and Teddy had his own car, which was found near the construction site.

After the police officer had asked those questions, it became clear to Teddy's parents that the police were going after Teddy in a big way so they called their lawyer. It did them no good. Teddy was arrested, tried and convicted on charges of attempted rape of a minor, aggravated assault of a minor, stalking, and harassment of a minor. It seems Teddy's DNA was also identified in three other open and unsolved rape cases where the rapist was unknown, as a result of his arrest, and his DNA having been entered into the national criminal database for sex offenders. He got twenty-five to life in prison for his crimes. It helped that Wanda had the ultra clean reputation of the good girl when the defense tried to turn things around on her. She sat with poise as she explained that she had never been on a date, never kissed a boy and certainly never asked for 'rough trade' from Teddy.

Me? I got an immobilized right hand, and the hatred of the whole school it seems. Teddy was the star running back on the football team and I had just cost them their winning season. I didn't have any real friends at Brentmore, but the casual acquaintances that I

did

have quit speaking to me. Wanda and I had no classes together so I didn't see her for more than a few moments the rest of the year. When I did see her she always made time to thank me for rescuing her and asked how I was doing. I knew from snatches of conversation I'd overheard that she wasn't much more welcome than I was, but she at least had friends here that had known her most of her life so it wasn't so bad for her. The school year ended as dismally as it had begun for me.

As a kind of reward, my father took his latest bonus check and bought me a two-year-old Mustang convertible. He said I needed to be proud of doing what a man is supposed to do. My mother was horrified that he had spent so much on the car, but forbade me from returning it saying that I did deserve it. I heard the muffled arguments from their room nearly every night. Again,

I

was the bone of contention driving them apart. I never even drove that car.

My summer was spent alone as my parents worked frantically to make enough to pay my tuition again this year. I went to the construction site where Wanda had been attacked, applied for a job as a laborer, and spent the whole summer working ten to fourteen hours a day. I spent none of my pay. I banked nearly every penny and all of my allowance. I only bought work clothes out of my check. I didn't go to the movies or do anything that would cost any money. On my days off, I went to the local YMCA and used their gym and pool. We had a family membership so it wasn't an additional expense. By the end of the summer, I had banked nearly twelve thousand dollars. I continued to save every penny. I had hoped that the extra would let my parents quit their second jobs and we could be a family again.

When my mother and father found out about the money, they were proud of me. When I again begged them to fix their marriage, they were livid and told me, 'Our relationship is no concern of yours!' At last, I took them at their word; they were no concern of mine. They had been very clear and specific. I hadn't seen either of them for more than a few hours for the last two years. I finally got it. Their marriage was dead and as I was a product of that marriage, therefore, also dead.

My supervisor, Donald, had introduced me to his son Harry. Harry was in college and was paying his own way to go. We hit it off and I asked how he could be paying his own way through college. He told me that he renovated small investment properties every summer and then sold them to make his tuition and living expenses. After several discussions, he let me know that he would be willing to help me do the same. He said he didn't want a partner but he would accept me as an investor. I could work the jobs on the crews and make money as well as making money on the final sale of the property. I agreed and at the end of the summer when Harry left for college in St. Louis, we had sold two properties that had been renovated; my bank account held forty thousand dollars in addition to my initial investment of twelve thousand two hundred dollars. I never told mom or dad what I had done. I put the money into a college trust, set up by Harry's CPA and lawyers, to avoid the tax issue and kept out of their way.

By the start of my junior year, it was big news that the Torrington Police had added the three additional rape charges to Teddy and that he was not welcome back in the school. My casual acquaintances tried to mend fences but I had no interest in them. I told them, "Go talk to your good friend Teddy, the rapist. I'm sure he wouldn't mind visiting with you every Saturday at the jail where he was awaiting trial." I didn't need any fair weather friends.

On the first day of school, I discovered that Wanda and I had identical schedules and it made me wonder why. I went to Ms. Timmons for answers. She informed me that Wanda had investigated my course schedule and rearranged hers to match it over the summer. She had also requested that we be 'partnered up' for any AP labs that we would have. As we were both in the AP curriculum and carrying four point GPAs, the academics advisor had no problem granting her request. They just hadn't bothered to mention it to me.

I left Ms. Timmons office more bewildered than when I entered it. I looked at my locker number, eleven fifty-four, and went to locate it before the start of classes. It was actually outside of my first period AP Calculus III class. I discovered it was also next to locker eleven fifty three, which happened to belong to… you guessed it… Wanda Swenson. I was beginning to sense a conspiracy.

Over the following year, we first became friends and then more than friends. I began to take a more proprietary interest in her. Our first date was to go to the Cultural Arts Festival on the Torrington University campus. We had a great time and after that, we became nearly inseparable. We celebrated our seventeenth birthdays, only two days apart, together in October. Her parents were thrilled that a Knight in Shining Armor had shown up to save their daughters virtue, but not so happy that he had started dating their daughter.

After all, my parents were just honest, hard working folks who weren't in debt up to their eyeballs living beyond their means like all the other people who were friends at their club. My parents owned their own home, not the bank. It may not have been a sprawling estate but it was in one of the better neighborhoods. They owed very little on their cars, sensible vehicles not luxury behemoths. They worked a total of four jobs to do it but so what? Obviously, they were socially inferior. (Please note the deep puddle of sarcasm gathering here at these statements.)

So, I didn't spend much time at Wanda's house. We spent our time out at the YMCA or the mall. We went to the movies. I kept my construction job and so had a plenitude of funds to spend. I made arrangements with Harry for titling and insurance and bought a mid-sized, well kept Nissan Sentra to drive around in; the Mustang never left the garage. I considered it a symbol of their disregard that my parents never noticed that it never moved. Wanda and I did many things together. We went to the museum, concerts, and the theater. I discovered that I liked theatrical productions. I also found that I detested opera. Fortunately so did Wanda. We went once and both agreed that it was a waste of time. I never pushed her for sex and she never failed to let me know she loved me and encouraged me to be affectionate and pet her anywhere I pleased and I pleased a lot!

When time for the junior prom came, Wanda's parents put their foot down. She could go, just not with me. Her mother had bought and had altered a truly lovely gown for the prom. They had arranged for Wanda to go to the prom with her fathers business associate, Brian Petrie's, son, Warren Petrie. He had a reputation at school as a known playboy and not taking a 'No' for an answer. When she had been informed of her so called 'date', Wanda was livid and put

her

foot down; if not with me, then no one, she was

not

going to go to prom at all. The dress sat in her closet wrapped in the plastic it had been delivered in. She never wore it. Wanda decided that since we weren't going to prom she was going to demonstrate her resolve. She asked me to pick her up in the afternoon around one at her friend Shelly's house. I, of course, agreed.

When I arrived, she was wearing a pair of hipster jeans and a turquoise blouse that looked fabulous on her small frame. Her breasts had undergone a growth spurt over the last few months and she was now sporting a very pleasant C cup. Her breasts look much larger given her small frame. Nevertheless, there was no question that she was absolutely knockout gorgeous. She climbed into the car and asked me to take her to lunch.

We went to the Toulon Café and had a lovely afternoon. We left the Café and went to the mall. Summer break was approaching and Wanda decided I could help her pick out a new swimsuit. She took me into Victoria Secret and made me sit as she selected several bits of lingerie. I almost came in my pants when she walked out into the store to ask my opinion of the white silk baby-doll nightie and thong panty set she was almost wearing. She laughed all the way back to the dressing room. She paid for her purchases with the credit card her parents had given her. She wanted them to know she was buying these things for me. We had never had sex and I wasn't about to push for it after what Teddy had nearly done to her. She was still seeing a psychologist about it. She walked me over to the Cell phone stand and proceeded to buy me the best cell phone/PDA out there, a Palm® Treo™ 700w Smartphone. She even paid the service plan fees in advance. I wasn't happy about it and resolved to have a check sent to her father for the bill on the service plan, the phone I would accept as her gift. We then went to the Wicked Weasel Store and she bought two swimsuits. Both of which would require a complete bikini wax.

We may not have had actual intercourse yet but we had done everything but. It was not unusual for me to give her at least two orgasms orally before I returned her home after our dates and she refused to let me go home with a hard-on. Her oral talents had improved with every blowjob she had given me. We had been each others first and only partners. I told her what felt good to me and she did the same. Our pleasure only increased. I had learned from the debacle that was my parent's relationship that communication was essential in any relationship.

Wanda would not let me take her home until after nine o'clock. When we arrived, there was a stretch limo in the driveway. The driver was leaning up against the side of the car. As we headed towards the house he signaled and we went over. Reaching into the back of the limo he retrieved a bottle of Champagne wrapped in a cloth napkin. "Take this and have it tested, I saw him put something in there before he got out. This is the last night I work for that little shit!" he handed Wanda a card. "If you need a witness call me."

I took the bottle and put it on the floorboard of my car. I used my new cell phone to call Sergeant Cassidy, the detective who had handled things with Teddy. He told me to remove the bottle from my car and not to go anywhere near the bottle after I had gotten it out of my car. He was coming to pick it up and would be here within moments.

About this time, her father came out of the house screaming at her demanding to know where she had been. They stood on the front steps screaming back and forth at one another. This went on for close to ten minutes. Her mother was standing looking worried in the doorway. Warren decided to get into the act and grabbed Wanda by the arm jerking her around to face him and yelled at her asking "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

I was on him in two steps. I had him by the throat and lifted his five foot eight inch frame from the ground. I leaned in to him and with every ounce of menace I could muster said, "The last man to touch her like that lost his freedom and his nuts. You touch her again and it'll cost you your life. If you understand me blink twice." He blinked twice and I dropped him to the ground I was turning to face her father as Warren fell. Before I could speak, two Torrington police cruisers and an unmarked Ford POS pulled up.

Detective Cassidy got out of the Ford, shook my hand and sent one of the officers to take the statement of the limo driver. I showed him the bottle that the driver had given Wanda and he bagged it as evidence. He searched both Warren and the limo and found more than an ounce of cocaine, a dozen ecstasy tablet, as well as several unknown tablets that turned out to be ketamine, called special K, and GHB, on Warrens person. Both are considered date rape drugs. The bottle of Champagne had been dosed with a cocktail consisting of all three drugs. Warren was arrested and charged with possession with intent to distribute narcotics and controlled substances as well as attempted rape using a mind altering substance. His lawyer got him a deal for three years inside and two on probation.