Time for the usual disclaimer. If you are too young to be reading this, what are you doing at this site anyway? You know better. Leave now before your parents find out. I will say that I won't tell them.
Also, if you don't approve of this type of story, why are you here? Leave so you won't be offended. It is not my intention to offend anyone and you are here warned. If you insist on reading this story, you have no one except yourself to blame if you find it offensive. Don't take it out on me. It's your problem, not mine.
This story is a work of fiction. It is the product of my somewhat twisted mind. It is also my property. You may quote parts of it as long as you properly credit me. You may not post it on any other site without my permission. It may not be used to make you any remuneration. It is for your enjoyment only. However, if you know of a way to make money off of it, email me and hopefully we can work something out. (Somehow I don't think I'll have to worry about that.)
If you find something in this story that you like or dislike, feel free to email me. As long as you keep it civil, I'll try to answer. Be sure to put the story title in the subject line so you don't get deleted. fritz@nehalemtel.net
Last, I would like to thank my faithful editor Ernie. I'm not sure why he puts up with me. I just keep making the same old mistakes. He must wonder if I'll ever learn. Sorry Ernie, probably not. The thing I hate the most is all the color cartridges I have to buy for the printer because the red ink is used up. Fritz
A Promise Kept
I had a problem. A very real problem. As I sat in class I could see out of the corner of my eye the cause of that problem. His name was Brian Jefferson. He was sitting two rows over and one in front of me. He was the new kid in town. He was about five foot seven. He was slender and had the cutest ass I had ever seen. Topping his head was blonde hair that movie stars would die for and under it were two sparkling blue eyes. To top that package off, he had the sexiest dimples when he smiled. I just wished he'd smile more often and would direct those similes at me.
School had started two weeks ago and I had seen him for the first time. I was head over heels from the get go. I couldn't believe any one could look so good.
"James?" Mr. Anderson's voice interrupted my pleasant daydream about Brian. "Are you paying attention?"
I looked up and answered, "Yes Sir."
"Perhaps you would like to explain the theory behind the cooling of gases when they expand?"
Now he had me on two fronts. The first was that I hadn't been paying attention and had no idea what he was talking about and the second was that I didn't want to stand up in front of the class. That daydream I'd been having had produced another problem. I had an erection from thinking about Brian and it was definitely pushing the front of my jeans out. I tried to stall. Mr. Anderson was having none of that. Finally I knew I would have to get up and show the whole class one of my problems and the teacher the other. What to do? It suddenly came to me. Getting out of my desk, I knocked over some books. As I bent down to pick them up I managed to pull my shirt out of my jeans and let it hang down. I hoped that would cover one of the problems. As I walked to the front of the classroom I tried to remember what the textbook had said when I was studying it last night. Total blank. I got to the front and started in and suddenly remembered what the textbook's explanation was and finally got through it. When I finished Mr. Anderson told me to go back to my seat and as I hurried back I realized my erection had gone down. Big help now I thought to myself.
As the class went on my thoughts again turned to Brian. He was a sophomore and I, a junior. This was the only class we shared. I kept trying to think of a way to get better acquainted. He didn't seem to have made any friends yet. He ate alone in the cafeteria. I knew I could go sit with him but my friends would think I was mad at them so that was out. I didn't know any of his hobbies so I couldn't start a conversation that way. He wasn't on any of the sports teams or other clubs in school so that was also out. I knew that because I'd checked. I just had to find a way to get acquainted that didn't look too obvious.
The big break came when we were going to lunch two days later. I had managed to get in line behind him so I could watch his cute butt move in his jeans and when we got to the head of the line he couldn't find his lunch card.
"Use mine; you can pay me back tomorrow," I told him.
As we were going through the lunch line, trying to decide which of the mystery dishes we would be able to survive eating, I asked him if he had anyone to eat with (all the while knowing the answer). He admitted he didn't, so I invited him over to eat with me and my friends. We've got a corner table staked out and as we are upperclassmen, no one tries to take it. After introducing him to the rest of the bunch we started on lunch. We were bullshiting about the usual things while we ate, like the teachers, home work, whether or not we would survive after eating today's mystery food and other students when I noticed he didn't say much. Trying to draw him out I asked him if he had any hobbies.
"Well, I like to collect stamps," he said kind of hesitantly.
My God, I couldn't believe my luck. Dad is an avid stamp collector and had gotten me started on it when I was in the second grade. We started talking about stamps and one of my friends said they might as well leave as I wouldn't come up for air until the bell rang for class. I've tried to explain how it isn't the stamps themselves, but the history that goes with them and why certain pictures or people appear on them but they don't seem to understand. I think they think I'm weird. I don't kid them about their sports cards. While we talked I invited him over to see my collection. He said he couldn't as he had to get right home after school. I tried to hint that I would like to see his collection but no dice.
I was on top of the world the rest of the day. I had found the opening. Now all I had to do was figure out how to take advantage of it.
The next day he wasn't at school, nor the day after that. I wondered what had happened. When he showed up the third day he moved kind of slow like he hurt. I asked him what was wrong and he said he had fallen and hurt his back. He paid me back for the lunch I'd paid for and sat with us again.
That seemed to start a pattern. He'd eat with us, not saying much and every few weeks, he would miss a day or two of school. When he came back he always acted like something was hurting him. I was frustrated as I couldn't get any closer to getting him somewhere I could talk and feel him out to see if there were any chance of getting a better look at that cute ass and maybe a little more. I wouldn't even mind feeling him out in other ways. My classmates knew I was gay. When I had come out there were some that no longer wanted anything to do with me but most had just accepted the fact. I wasn't sure how to go about letting him know I thought he was the cutest, sexiest boy I had ever seen but so far it didn't make any difference. The only times I saw him there was always a crowd.
So there I was. I couldn't get anywhere with the one I wanted and the year just kept dragging on. Sometimes when he didn't think anyone was watching I could see sadness and longing on his face as we talked about sleepovers and camping and some of our other activities. No matter what I suggested he join us in, the answer was always the same. He had to get home right after school.
This situation continued that way until just before Thanksgiving. We were going to get out of class a couple of hours early and he asked if the invitation was still open to look at my collection. I told him it was and when the day came we walked to my house. I wasn't very good company as I kept trying to think of how to say what I wanted to say. I couldn't figure out how to say anything because I didn't want him to hate me. As he was normally quiet there wasn't much said. When we got home I introduced him to my mother and told her we were going to look at my stamp collection. We went upstairs to my room and I dug out my collection. He had been absent the day before and moved real slow.
I asked him what was wrong and he just shrugged it off. I kept at it. He told me he had to leave. As he started to go I grabbed him.
"Look, something's wrong and I'd like to know. Maybe I can help?"
"Nobody can help."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because of what?"
He hung his head. He tried to go but I wouldn't let go. He tried to shake me off but I was a lot bigger and stronger. He started to cry.
"You wouldn't understand."
"How do you know? Try me."
I could see the tears running out of those blue eyes and I couldn't stand it. I let go of his arms and wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me and hugged him. He laid his head on my shoulder and then the tears really started. I could feel his chest heaving and feel the shoulder of my shirt getting wet. I finally had him in my arms but not in the way I had imagined. When he finally stopped, I took him over and sat him on the bed. I handed him a Kleenex from the box by the bed. (I keep them there to use when I jack off. I go through a lot of Kleenex.) I sat down next to him.
"Brian, what's so bad that you can't tell me? I'd like to help. I really like you and I'd like to think we're friends." My heart was in my throat when I told him I really liked him. I was afraid I'd scare him off and lose him.
He started sobbing again looking at the floor. Finally he got it out. "I'm gay."
"So what. So am I."
His head snapped around and I was looking straight into those tear filled blue eyes.
"You're not just saying that?"
"Ask my friends at school."
He looked intently at me for a few seconds and then wrapped his arms around my neck and putting his chin on my shoulder, he continued to cry. The only difference was I could feel the tension drain out of his slender body. I put my arms around him and just held him. I was in heaven. I had him in my arms and he'd told me he was gay. When he finally stopped crying I continued to hold him. I didn't want to let him go. He felt so good in my arms.
"See, that wasn't so hard," I told him.
"Yes it was," he sniffed. "I was so afraid you wouldn't like me any more."
I chuckled. "Don't worry about that. I've spent all my spare time since I first saw you trying to figure out how to tell you that I think you're cute and sexy. I could never get you anywhere that we could be alone and talk."
"You don't think I'm hateful and a sin against humanity?"
That surprised me. "Good God no, why would I think something like that?" I released him and leaned back looking into his eyes. "Why would you even think I might feel that way?"
"It's what my father says. He says it when he beats me and rapes me."
I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I couldn't imagine my father beating me. He always supported and encouraged me. I couldn't even think of anything to say. I just sat there with my mouth open and a surprised look on my face as I tried to comprehend what he had just said.
"You mean your father beats you?"
He nodded.
"And he rapes you?" in a rising and somewhat incredulous voice.
"After he beats me." He paused and then continued. "That's why I miss school."
"Have you ever told anyone?"
"No, he said if I ever told anyone he'd kill me and mom."
I've got a big ego and had always been pretty sure I could take care of things if given a chance but I knew this was way over my head and experience. We needed someone a lot more experienced then I was to solve this.
"Brian, we need help. Let's ask my mother and father what to do."
"Oh God no, we can't we can't he'll kill me we can't please don't..." he started out while grabbing me. "Promise me you won't, please promise me, oh please."
He was beside himself. I finally agreed to promise not to tell. Looking at him I realized I had seen naked fear in his eyes. It frightened me. I had never before experienced anything like it. It made me afraid, not like when I had done something wrong and was waiting for my parents to punish me, but truly afraid. Fear so strong it makes your guts churn, your heart pound, and your knees shaky and weak. Fear even worse then when I had decided to tell my friends I was gay.
"Brian, we have to do something. We can't let this continue."
His shoulders slumped. His voice had a dead quality to it. "There's nothing anyone can do. Maybe I'll die and it will quit... Sometimes I wish I was dead... I'd kill myself but he'd just take it out on Mom."
We just sat there on the edge of the bed. I had my arm on his shoulders and he just looked down at the floor. I didn't know what to do or say. I'd never heard anything like that. About then mom yelled up.
"James, the cookies are out of the oven."
"In a minute..."
I grabbed Brian's hand and led him to the bathroom. After we washed our hands and faces we went down and into the kitchen. Mom was making cookies for tomorrow and gave us each a few. I dug out the milk and poured two glasses. Mom asked Brian how he liked my collection. We had never looked at them after I gotten them out but he tried to sound like he was impressed with them. After the cookies Brian said he had to get home and I told mom I'd walk with him.
As we walked he told me about his family. His father was a policeman and his grandfather a minister. His mother worked at a local department store and he had to get home and have the chores done before they got home. Both he and his mother were afraid of his father. When we got to his house I was surprised to find it was so close to mine. It was only about six blocks. He said he'd be over Friday morning and I went back home.
My sister got home from college about then and Mom was busy talking to her so I didn't have to talk about Brian. Big sisters are good for something after all.
I didn't talk much that evening or during the holiday. I had a lot on my mind. I wanted to talk to my folks about Brian in the worst way but I had promised. Finally even my sister noticed I was being pretty quiet. When they ganged up on me all I could tell them was I had promised not to talk about it. Dad understood right away as he always told us to keep our word. I was sure they thought one thing by the knowing looks they exchanged and I wished it were true.
All my planning and scheming had been for naught. We had never even gotten around to talking about us while he was here. The fact he hadn't rejected me and he'd said he was gay made me hopeful, but only if we could solve his problems. I just couldn't see how to do that. I was afraid if I went to the police his father would find out before they could do anything and I couldn't risk it. My mind kept going around in circles and coming up with nothing. The problem with going to someone other then the police made it even more likely his father would hear it soon enough to do something horrible. I just kept brooding and finally they left me alone.
Friday morning came and I was a nervous wreck. I couldn't come up with an answer and as the morning dragged on and on. When he didn't show, I was almost out of my mind. I finally told mom I was going to the mall and if Brian called to tell him I'd see him later. Once out of the house I headed for his home as fast as I could go. When I got there I couldn't see any cars parked there and finally I got up my courage and knocked on the door. Brian finally opened it and when he saw me fell into my arms crying. I tried to calm him down by holding him and patting his back. When I touched him he cried out and so I just held him. When he calmed down a little I asked him why he hadn't come over. He told me his father had told him not to leave the house and had been calling and checking on him.
The phone rang and he headed to answer it. He had the receiver in the kitchen and I could see he had been cleaning. When he hung up he started cleaning again. He was having a hard time and I could tell his back was hurting him. I pitched in and helped and I could see the gratitude in his eyes. With two of us, it didn't take long and we were done. He said he still had to do the living room and I helped him by moving the furniture while he vacuumed. By the time we were done it was two and he told me there wasn't much in the house to eat. I ran over to the pizza parlor and grabbed one and a couple of Cokes and hurried back. While I was getting it I vowed to myself that I would tell him how I felt. When I got back we started on the pizza. I didn't know where to start telling him.
"Uhh, Brian? You know I ... Uhh ... I like you." He looked at me. I continued. "Uhhhh ... more then like." Damn, this was harder then I thought it would be. He had stopped eating and just stared into my eyes. As I stared back I couldn't get started again. I could feel myself falling into those blue eyes. He smiled.
"You want to be my boyfriend," he said.
There it was out in the open. I was so grateful he had rescued me from my inability to say what was on my heart and mind. I went over and picked him up and kissed him. He sort of melted into my arms. I could feel his body touching mine and it was wonderful. The warmth of his body against mine just seemed to spread through me. We just kissed and sort of rubbed against each other. God, his house was warm. I didn't recall it being that warm while we were cleaning. I could feel my cock getting hard and filling the front of my jeans. As we rubbed back and forth I realized there was a lump in the front of his jeans that mine was rubbing across. Suddenly he pushed me away.
"We can't."
I could see he was slightly flushed and was breathing somewhat more rapidly then normal.
"Why not?" I whined.
"Dad won't let me."
"Brian, we'll figure out how to solve that."
His shoulders slumped and he went back to his chair and sat down.
"How?"
"I don't know yet, but we'll find a way."
We finished the pizza in a glum silence. When it was gone he took me to his room and showed me his stamp collection. I hated to admit it but his was better although a little smaller. He had a nice room on the back side of the house and it looked out onto the back yard. Unlike ours, the house was all on one floor. He had a big walk in closet and a desk. There was no TV or computer and he told me his father didn't approve of either. By now it was a little after four and he told me I had better leave as his father might get home early. It seems his father normally got home about five and his mother about five-thirty.
If it hadn't been for his problems with his father I would have been on top of the world. As I walked home I wondered if he could sneak out through his window and we could meet. I also wondered why his father was so mean. I knew all of my friends' families and I had never heard of anyone like him. What would make a man beat and rape his own son?
Brian started meeting me and we would walk to school together. At least we could talk and become better acquainted. I learned that they had moved here because his father wanted to get him away from his friend. The discovery of that friendship had been the reason the beatings had started. Before that, his father had always been kind and decent to him although not real demonstrative. Shortly after that I started walking him home. School finished at three-twenty so that gave us a little time before his father got home. Seems like we spent almost all of that time getting his chores done. I couldn't see how he had managed to do them all by himself. He told me he hadn't always and that was one of the things his father beat him for. I still kept thinking about how to stop his father. The main stumbling block was how to get something done without his father finding out before it was done. I thought about Children's Services but knew they always investigated before they did anything. There had been a case a while back where they had stepped in without thoroughly investigating and they had gotten in all kinds of trouble and still had lawsuits against them. I was afraid that if I talked to them his father would find out and do something horrible before they acted.
Why is it that one can be brilliant in one's imagination and stupid in real life? I was sure that in my dreams I could solve a problem like this but kept striking out in real life. I wished I hadn't given him my word not to tell anyone as I was sure my folks would know what to do. As it was, I couldn't even ask them for help.
As Christmas approached Brian started to get nervous. He told me he had received a beating for Christmas last year. As we had been getting his chores done he hadn't had one since before Thanksgiving. The closer the holidays got, the more desperate I got. I just had to come up with something that would work. I loved him and he deserved better then I was supplying.
The weekend before Christmas it finally happened. Dad was getting things ready and he got out the video camera to take the annual Christmas tape. Suddenly I knew what to do. Brian had told me he would probably get a beating on Christmas Eve and if I could get it on tape maybe we would be able to stop them. The bullies I had run into generally will back down if confronted. I thought if we had it on tape we could force his father to stop. As we walked to school Monday I told him.
"Brian, I've got an idea. Do you think if we had a tape of the beating we could use it to force your father to stop?"
"Maybe."
"I could hide in the closet Christmas Eve and take one."
"He'd just beat you if he caught you and destroy the tape."
"But if he didn't catch me we could make copies and give him one and tell him we would take them to the police and the TV station and the newspaper."
He didn't answer right away. Just before we arrived at school he told me he thought it might work. On the way home we started planning. My family has a tradition of opening the presents at Midnight. I'd asked the folks years ago where that got started but they couldn't answer me. They told me it had always done in my father's family that way and their parents before them had also done it that way.
Brian had told me that his father would have a few drinks after dinner and normally would beat him about nine or ten, have another couple of drinks and go to bed. His mother had tried to stop him at first but after he had beaten her she had stopped trying to interfere. It looked like I would be able to make it work for me time wise as he has said it normally took a little over half an hour. That ought to give me time to get home after the taping in time for my family's Christmas gift exchange.
As the week went on, I was busy getting things ready. I picked up some blank tapes and of course had to finish shopping for my family. I had all my gifts wrapped and had looked up a studio where I could make copies of the tape if I got it. I couldn't think of anything else to do. Christmas was on Saturday this year so on Wednesday, which was the last day of school, I took all the tape equipment over to his house and we set it up in his closet. The closet had doors with louvers and a couple of them had been broken. The holes gave a good view of the room. I couldn't think of anything else to do so I told him I would see him in the morning.
On Thursday I waited until I was sure his parents were gone and I went over. We spent the morning cleaning and by the time we had checked out the tape we made with the curtains pulled and the light that he normally had on at night, it was time for me to leave.
His mother had Friday off so I couldn't go over. I spent the morning getting ready for the holiday. Finally dinner was over and about seven-thirty I told the folks I had a few presents to deliver and would be home before our celebration. I knew dad wouldn't get out the camera before about eleven-thirty so I figured I would be able to get everything back and not be discovered. I left a note in the camcorder case telling them not to worry if I was late just to be on the safe side and taking my backpack with the presents and the camcorder in it I left. I hated not being able to tell my folks what I was up to, but I had promised.
I ran over and peeked in his window. He was alone and let me in. I hid in the closet with the camcorder and waited.
About ten after nine his father came into the room. He started yelling things I had never heard anyone call anyone before. His voice was slurred and he sounded drunk. He started beating Brian. Then he kicked him. I had never considered the affect that would have on me. My concentration had been on taping and not seeing. It was awful. I couldn't do anything except tape and try to see through the tears running down my face. If there had been anything to work with I would have knocked him out but all there was in the closet was Brian's clothes, the video camera and me. It seemed to go on forever. He'd grab him, haul him up and hit him, then kick him when he was on the floor. Then he'd start again. It was like I could feel every blow. If it had not been for the fact that the tape was so important I think I would have passed out. I was sick. Every time Brian cried out it was like a lash. I tried to concentrate on the camera but my eyes were so blurry I didn't know if I was getting a good picture or not.
Finally Brian was just curled up on the floor chocking and moaning. His father was a big man and he towered over him. He stood there and laughed and asked him how he liked that. By then I had grabbed part of my shirt and stuffed it in my mouth to keep from crying out and asking him to stop. He grabbed him up and threw him over the foot of the bed and jerked his pants down. Then he raped him. Brian screamed weakly when he started. When he was done he just walked out. Brian slid off the bed and onto the floor and just lay there.
As soon as the door slammed I was out of the closet. I was supposed to wait for a half hour but I couldn't. Brian was whimpering and when I tried to help him up on the bed he cried out. I couldn't figure out a way to help him that didn't hurt him. I could see the bruises forming. They were almost everywhere except his face. Finally I managed to get him on the bed. I didn't know what to do so I just held him. Eventually the whimpering stopped. I tried to leave as it was almost eleven. Brian clung to me. I couldn't get him to let go. I felt helpless. All I could do was kiss him and tell him I loved him.
About three-thirty he finally let me leave. I was too spent to even hurry home. I knew I was in trouble and had ruined Christmas for my family but that was the least of my worries. I hoped that nothing permanent had been done to Brian. I had the camera and the tape. The tape had come at the high cost of his pain and my anguish. As I walked home I vowed I would get help if this didn't work no matter what Brian thought.
When I walked in, the folks were waiting for me. They demanded to know where I'd been. I couldn't tell them. I tried to explain I had promised and hoped to be able to tell them soon. That wasn't good enough. Dad finally said if I couldn't live by his rules maybe I didn't deserve to live there. Mom was crying and Dad was yelling. He had never yelled at me like that. I know he was worried and upset but no matter how hard I tried to explain the situation I was in, he wouldn't listen. He was the one who had always stressed that you were only as good as your word. About four-thirty he told me to tell them where I had been or get out. There was really no use in going over what I had said before so I just went upstairs and started packing my suitcase. By now I was so emotionally exhausted I couldn't even think straight.
As I walked towards the door he told me not to think I could come back when the going was tough. I asked if I could get the rest of my clothes later. He told me to take all my things and get out.
When he slammed the door behind me and turned out the porch light I just sat on the step. I was too tired to think of where to go. I just sat there and cried. I could hear my parents yelling at each other. Christmas was supposed to be a time of peace on earth and goodwill toward men and I'd ruined it. It didn't matter that it was in a good cause.
I guess you can only cry so long because eventually I stopped. I won't say I felt better because I didn't but at least my mind started to work again. It was now raining and I was soaked and cold. I picked up my suitcase with my clothes and the tape and headed for the closest motel. It was old and run down but would do for now. Besides, it was probably as cheap as I could find. While I had some money and my checkbook I knew that wouldn't last long.
While I was checking in the clerk asked how long I would be staying. I inquired about the rates and paid for a week. I would have to find something cheaper and a job or I would wind up homeless. I had a few thousand saved for college but at the price of the motel that would be gone in a short time.
After I was checked in I took a shower to warm up and then tried to go to sleep. My mind wouldn't let me. As I lay there tossing and turning I wondered what I should do. Finally I went and got a newspaper and started looking for a room to rent. When that didn't produce any results, I checked the employment want ads. There wasn't much there either. I needed a part time job that would allow me to finish school. I decided to see how long my money would last. After figuring and refiguring it looked like I might last till the end of the school year if I could find some kind of a job.
About noon I went out and bought a loaf of bread and some peanut butter and jelly. After a couple of sandwiches I tried to sleep. I kept waking up with nightmares about Brian's beating. It was a horrible Christmas. Sunday wasn't any better. I sat around and cried from time to time. I missed my parents and I even missed my sister. She had made my life hell when we were growing up. Most of all, I was worried about Brian. I wished I could be with him.
Monday I took the tape and went to the studio I'd found and rented their equipment. I made twenty-six copies. That took all morning. It also cost more then I'd thought it would. I hated to spend the money but it was necessary. When I finished I packed them in bundles of three and sent them to eight friends whom I thought I could trust. In the letter I wrote to them, I asked them to keep them and not view them. If anything happened to Brian, his mother or me I asked them to give a copy to the police, a TV station and the newspaper. Then I wrote a letter. In it I informed Brian's father that if he didn't stop beating Brian and his mother I would take the tape to the police and media. I hired a courier service to deliver it that afternoon while he was at work. He was in the administrative end and worked in an office all day. By then it was too late to look for a job so I just went back to the motel and had another sandwich.
I stretched out on the bed with the television on and tried to think of what to do next. I fell asleep and when I woke it was almost eleven. The TV was still on. I went to the bathroom and when I returned the late news was just starting. The lead story was about a suicide. A police captain had committed suicide. Oh my God. It was Brian's father. I had never even thought something like that could happen. Now I was responsible for a man's death. How, I wondered, could I have caused so many bad things to happen in such a short time? I'd managed to ruin Christmas for my family and now I was responsible for a death. I figured Brian would never talk to me again. After all I had caused the death of his father. I just knew he would never forgive me. I had managed to make my folks hate me and ruined Christmas. I was a total failure. I had killed a man as surely as if I had put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I had been depressed since Friday night and this just added to it. I was a killer. How could things have gone so wrong? How can you make amends for killing someone? While he deserved to be punished, he didn't deserve to die. The only people that deserve to die are killers. That was me. While he had killed himself, I had caused it to happen.
I sat there the rest of the night and the next day feeling worse and worse. All I could think of was I had killed a man. My mind just kept going around in a circle and that circle was that I was a killer. I was responsible for a death. My folks hated me. I was a killer. Nobody could like me.
On Wednesday morning I came to a decision. My family hated me, I was a killer and there didn't seem to be anything I might do to atone for my actions. Now my only problem was how to do it. I didn't have access to any firearms or drugs. That only left a few ways that I could be sure would work. I could hang myself or drown myself. I ruled out jumping in front of a car or truck as that would just make someone else feel bad. I'd read somewhere that cuttings ones wrists was not that effective. I wondered which one would be the best. I finally decided on drowning. I loved to swim so it seemed the most appropriate.
I took some of the stationary the motel furnished and wrote out a will. Such a pitiful few things to represent a human life. Then I tried to write a letter explaining why I was doing it. After a couple of tries I gave up. They looked so stupid. I mean, how can you explain being a killer. What words can you use that will excuse something like that. I knew nothing I could say would ever cover something so horrible. In the end all it said was I was sorry.
I wished I could talk to someone. The trouble was who would want to talk to a killer. After all, no decent person would even want to be around someone who would kill someone. I really wished Brian and I had done something more then kiss a few times. That would have been something happy to think about. Now we never would. There would never be anything happy to think about. Of course that problem would not last much longer.
In the end I decided to take a look at the places that I'd enjoyed during my life, sort of a macabre farewell tour. I went past the library as it was full of books I loved to read. Next I went over to my school. While I would never have told my friends, I had enjoyed school and some of the teachers were really nice. I sat on the bench in front for a while thinking about the good times I'd had and all the friends I had made. I missed them. I wondered if they would ever even think of me. I finally left. I would have loved to go past my house but knew I couldn't handle that. Besides, if Mom saw me it would just make her feel bad. In the end I wound up at the playground where I had played ball. I remembered the year my little league team had almost won our division. I hadn't been the star but had been part of the team. I just sat there and relived it all in my mind. When I closed my eyes I could see myself out there playing left field. What I couldn't understand is how such a happy kid could turn into a killer. What had gone wrong? Where had I gone off track? I just sat there with my head down, my eyes closed, and the tears slowly running down my face.
"James?"
It was a voice that meant more then anything in the world to me. I had heard it since I could remember. I couldn't think of anything to say or how to explain what I had done. There was nothing more to say. He hadn't understood me before and I was sure I couldn't do any better now. Then I wondered why he wasn't at work.
"James, can you ever forgive me?" His voice was real soft. I couldn't figure out what he had done that I should forgive him for. It was all to complex for me.
"I'm sorry dad. I didn't mean to ruin Christmas. I didn't mean to kill Mr. Jefferson. I'm sorry I can't tell you what I was doing. I want to but I promised not to tell. I'm sorry I disappointed you and made you and mom unhappy." By now I was crying too hard to go on.
"Oh James, you don't have to explain." His voice broke. I could hear him sniff like he was crying. "Mrs. Jefferson and Brian came over to thank you yesterday. They explained what you had done. When Brian told me he had made you promise not to tell, I realized you had grown up and were doing what I had tried to teach you." He sniffed some more. "I was so proud of you. You've grown into the kind of man I hoped you would." I could hear him crying now. "Please give me another chance?"
I wanted to say it was all right but I couldn't. My throat hurt too badly and I was too confused. Why was my father apologizing to me, a killer? It didn't make any sense to me. I knew I ought to say or do something but I had no idea of what that might be. All I could do was sit there with my head down and continue to cry.
"I guess you're right. I don't deserve it." I could hear the dejection and hurt in his voice. I still couldn't speak. I did the only thing I could think of. I got up and went to him and put my arms around him and cried on his shoulder like I did when I was little and he'd pick me up when I fell and hurt myself. He'd helped the pain go away then. He put his arms around me and I could feel him helping me now.
I finally quit crying and we started walking home. While we were walking he told me how they had been searching for me. He told me how scared he had been when he found the notes and will I had left in my room.
"But Dad, how can you even be around me? I'm responsible for a man's death. I caused him to kill himself." I couldn't even face him when I said that. I just stared at the ground in front of my feet.
He stopped and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight.
"James, it's not your fault that Mr. Jefferson committed suicide. He did it because he knew what he'd done to Brian was wrong. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should be proud of your actions. You risked your own safety to help a friend. You kept your word even though it cost you. I'm so proud of you I don't know how to tell you. I only wish I'd been able to see that and not acted the way I did. I hurt you and you didn't deserve it."
"But Dad, if I hadn't sent those tapes he'd still be alive."
"Son, understand this. You're in no way responsible for his death. He chose to take his life because he couldn't face the consequences of his actions because he knew he was wrong."
By now I was crying again. He just held me, patting my back and telling me over and over that it wasn't my fault that Mr. Jefferson had killed himself. I wanted to believe him but I wasn't sure. Besides, I was sure I'd lost Brian.
"Come on Son, let's go home. Brian's waiting for you."
The End.
Postscript
To the readers. If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, for Gods sake seek and ask for help. Suicide is NOT the solution. While it may seem like it at the time, it is not. Since you are reading this on the web, run a search. There are many sites and organizations that want to help you. Please give them a chance. It might be hard for you to believe, but they really do care. So do I. What looks overpowering can be overcome with help. There are lots of people out there waiting to help you. You only need to give them a chance. Trust me, you will be glad you did.
One other thing. Depression is frequently caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. In most cases there are drugs that can help. A couple of friends of mine have gone that route. They both say they can't believe the difference the drugs make in the way they feel. I can. You only have to talk to them and be around them to see the difference. It's like the difference between night and day. Good luck.
Fritz