This story was written before Christmas, right after I wrote Desire. I am just now getting around to posting it. I hope ou guys enjoy Devin and Patrick. They were fun to write.
Note: This is a fictional story with fictional characters. Any similarities to a real life situation and/or real people is purely coincidental. Since I have no editor (I haven't gotten around to looking for one yet), I will apologize now for any and all mistakes in spelling and puncuation, and any other mistakes I may have made.
Enjoy,
Soulless
*****
The Amnesiac
Chapter Two
Patrick watched Devin to see how he'd react to his confession. Devin just stared at him for a moment, then re-situated himself on the bed so that he was next to Patrick, laying the right way. He pressed the button to make the top go up until the bed was shaped more like a lawn chair. Devin leaned back, then put his hands on Patrick's shoulders to move him, but waited for permission. Patrick hesitated, then nodded very slightly. Devin gently pushed Patrick down, until Patrick's head rested in Devin's lap. Patrick rather liked using his lap as a pillow. He curled up, tucking his knees up to his chest, lightly rubbing his cheek against Devin's crotch like a pillow. Devin hissed out a breath and Patrick felt a bulge under his cheek. He flushed, mumbling an apology.
"Who raped you, Patrick?"
"My f-father."
"Your father raped you?"
"And his friend."
"Your father and his friend raped you?"
Patrick nodded, which made his cheek rub against the bulge, which made Devin suck in a breath. A chain reaction. Interesting. Patrick mentally shook his head, clearing it. "Sorry," he said.
"No problem, just as long as you realize that as much as you move against it, I'm only going to get harder."
"Okay."
"Now, back to our conversation. You said your father and his friend raped you, right?"
"Yes. When I was five. In front of my mom."
"In front of-? And she didn't try to stop them?"
"She couldn't have stopped them any more than a mannequin could," Patrick stated quietly.
"Why no- Oh, shit. You don't mean she was- They raped you in front of your mother's corpse!? When you were five!?"
"Yeah. I remember that day.... Dad was trying to get me to suck him off again. Mom was at work.. We were in the living room.."
"I don't want to, Daddy."
"Shut up and get on your knees."
"But Dadd-"
Stan shoved Patrick down onto his knees. When the five-year-old tried to get back up, Stan held him down with his hands on the boy's shoulders. When he stopped struggling, Stan smirked down at him, and Patrick could see none of the love in Stan's gray eyes that he saw in his mother's every day. He only saw anger and hatred, and that scared him. As far as he knew, he'd never done anything bad enough to make him mad. Well, except for stuff like right now, when Daddy wanted him to do nasty stuff. His momma always told him to not let anybody touch him in private places, like his penis and his butt and his nipples. Not even her or his father were allowed to touch there now that he was old enough to take a bath by himself. His father was old enough to take a bath by himself, too, so why did Patrick have to touch him?
Every time Patrick asked his father, he'd say, "This is what every father should do. Every little boy needs to know how to suck a dick real good. He also needs to know how to take a huge cock in his ass and enjoy it. But most of all, every little boy needs to know how to make his daddy happy. My own father always said I was pro at keeping him happy. You're falling behind, boy."
Stan stood in front of Patrick, Patrick's small body trembling, his heart thudding in his chest. His father was just reaching for him when a noise from the doorway made him freeze. Patrick had tears streaming down his cheeks now, but when he looked up and saw his momma in the doorway, he scrambled up and ran to her, clinging to her legs. He buried his face in her legs and started sobbing.
"What the hell are you doing, Stanley?"
"I'm teaching fucking kid a lesson in pleasuring his old man."
"If you don't leave this house right now, I'll see you in prison."
"Really? And how are you going to do that?"
"By calling the police, you dipshit. Now leave."
"Kind of hard for a dead woman to call anybody."
Patrick looked up at his mother, about to ask her what 'dead' meant, but he saw all the color drain from her face.
"Patrick, baby, go run to the neighbor's house and ask them to call 911."
"Why, Momma? What's '911'?"
"Baby, please just do as I tell you. Go next door to Miss Abby's house and tell her to call 911. Tell her I need help."
"But-"
"Go!"
"He's not going anywhere," a menacing voice said behind them. His mother spun around, as did Patrick. His father's friend, Kyle, stood there, a big, shiny knife in one had. His mother tried to shove Patrick past Kyle, but Kyle's reflexes were fast; he stabbed Patrick's mom, left the blade in, and turned and grabbed Patrick, all without breaking stride. Patrick struggled, screaming. His long hair fell in his face, but he didn't care. He kept screaming and struggling to get down. His saw his mother fall to the ground, eyes blank and shiny. Kyle's hand slammed down on Patrick's mouth, and Patrick bit him. Kyle cursed and yanked his hand back. Patrick immediately started screaming again, but Kyle moved into the house and slammed the door shut.
Kyle threw Patrick onto the couch, which startled Patrick into silence. He landed on the couch with a muffled "Oomph." His father walked over, an evil light in his eyes. Kyle flopped down onto the couch next to Patrick and grabbed him. Patrick tried to crawl away, but Kyle grabbed him and pulled him onto his lap. Patrick's heart was tripping over itself, he was so scared. He screamed again.
"...Patrick?"
His vision blurred, and he felt faint.
"Patrick! Wake up!"
Patrick's eyes snapped open and he scrambled up, away from Devin, and almost fell off the bed. Devin's hand on his arm kept him from falling.
"Patrick? What happened? You fell asleep, then you wouldn't wake up... And you were whimpering and crying and struggling... You had another nightmare, didn't you?"
Patrick swallowed once, twice, then cleared his throat. "Yeah.. About that night..."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"We were in the living room.. Dad wasn't wearing any clothes. He forced me to my knees and told me to suck him like I would a sucker. I was so scared, I couldn't refuse. Then Mom came home early, right before I could touch Dad, and I ran to her. I knew she'd-she'd save-me." The last part was almost unintelligible, he was so choked up.
Devin gently pulled Patrick closer, wrapping his arms around him. "Just take it slow, okay?"
Patrick nodded. He took a deep, steadying breath, then nodded. He was determined to explain it to Devin. He earned it. "Momma told me to run to the neighbor's house and have Miss Abby call 911. I wanted to stay with her, so I stalled. Then it was too late, because Kyle, my dad's friend, arrived. He stabbed my mom, and grabbed me before I could run. I screamed, but he just dragged me into the house. He stripped me, then Dad took me into his and Mom's bedroom. He ordered me onto my hands and knees on the bed, and I was so tired by then, I just complied. Then Kyle put Mom on the bed, her face, her blank gaze watching me. Then Kyle taped my father raping me. I screamed and screamed, but nobody came. I screamed myself hoarse, but nobody saved me. Not until Dad tore me up, made me bleed. Not until Kyle took me right after my dad, without letting me have even a minute to breathe. Not for five days. My mother's body started rotting, slowly, and stinking."
"How did it end?" Devin asked softly.
"They knew I knew where they kept the video camera, and the tapes, and yet they left them within my reach. I was never allowed to bathe, so I was walking evidence. One day, my dad went out and left me with Kyle. Kyle thought I was sleeping, so he thought it was safe to use the restroom. As soon as the bathroom door was shut, I got up, grabbed the camera and all the tapes. I took my mom's locket from her neck, put it around mine, and left. I ran to Miss Abby's house next door. I banged on the door, and when she saw me, she quickly ushered me inside and gave me a blanket to cover myself with. Ten minutes later, there was an ambulance and police at my house and hers. They arrested Kyle right away, but my dad... They had to find him. They finally did. A year later when somebody recognized his face from the news and called it in. They wouldn't let me bathe all that crap off until the medics had seen to me, taken samples of the blood and semen.... Miss Abby stayed with me. They allowed her to take me, and she raised me."
"Why didn't she come visit you here?"
"She died two months before I turned nineteen." Patrick smiled, remembering Miss Abby. "She was wonderful. She treated me like I was her own kid."
Devin brushed a kiss on Patrick's temple, and Patrick smiled, loving the warmth that settled over him. He snuggled into Devin. Devin lowered the head of the bed, and they both went to sleep in each others arms..
*****
"You ready?" Devin asked as he entered Patrick's hospital room.
"Yeah. Thanks for the clothes. They fit good."
"That's great. The doctor says you are free to go now. You do have to sit in a wheel chair and let a nurse wheel you out. You know that, right?"
"Yes, Patsy told me earlier when I signed the papers."
"Good. You sure you don't mind staying with me until you get everything together?"
"I'm sure."
"Let's go, then. Patsy is waiting in the hall with the wheelchair."
Devin looked at Patrick and smiled. He looked much better today in jeans and a pale gray sweater. It's been two days since Patrick had told him about his shitty childhood, three days since he woke up. He had more color in his gaunt cheeks, and his pale gray eyes were much clearer, full of life and intelligence. He was now able to eat solid foods, which made him immensely happy. He could also walk around for a while without getting exhausted. And early this morning, Dr. Dachev told them Patrick was going to be released later. He'd taken all the tests he needed, and all the tests had come back negative, which was very good. The accident and the long coma seemed to have had no lingering effects, so he was free to go.
Devin waited by the door, knowing that if he offered to help him up, Patrick would decline. He had pride, after all. Patrick stood up, grabbed his wallet, and walked out of the room, all on his own. He sat down in the wheelchair, putting his feet up on the footrests. Devin took the handles from Patsy, and then they were off. Since Devin was off-duty for the next week, Patsy was supposed to wheel the chair out, but they settled for her accompanying them downstairs. When they got to the elevator, Patsy pressed the down button.
Patsy broke the silence. "It really is good to see you up and about, Mr. Henley."
"Patsy, I've told you before not to call me that. My name is Patrick. Please call me Patrick."
Devin suspected Patrick had rolled his eyes while saying that. He grinned.
"Yes, well. Patrick, then."
"Ah, what's this? The unflappable Patsy is flapped?" Devin grinned mercilessly at the older woman.
