This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. These stories have as their main character a sexually active gay teenager. If this is offensive to you, or if it is illegal in your area, or if you are under age, please leave now.
Constructive criticism is welcome on my e-mail.
Dermot Chapter 9, To Prosecute or Not
Lando remained with Dermot until dinner time on Tuesday, but then left, saying he had homework. He would be back the next day to participate in what he designated as better drama than the soaps.
That evening, Dermot divided his time between reading and thinking about all that had happened. It looked like he might actually emerge from the shadow of Uncle Steve. A great burden of fear was beginning to be lifted from his shoulders. He also thought about what Lando said about sex. His own experiences were obviously not any kind of standard to go by. Dermot knew that most people thought sex was something wonderful, but for him it had not been that way. Except ... well, except that time he got off thinking about Lando. There was no denying it, Lando was sexy. He was a good looking boy, medium length curly blond hair, blue eyed, great body, great dresser, killer smile. Besides all that, he seemed to like Dermot. On consideration, that was the best thing about Lando.
Dermot reminisced about his earlier life. As far as he knew, everything was pretty normal up until about Christmas time in 2002. That was the last Christmas he could remember with any real happiness. And up til then he had friends. Kids he knew from school and the neighborhood. Then, his mom got sick. Dermot had begun to withdraw, and other kids had begun to avoid him. Kids who are nine or ten years old don't know how to deal with real tragedies, like sickness and death. For most of them it was easier to simply ignore it. So Dermot found himself increasingly alone at a time when he was himself completely floundering emotionally. And his dad did the same. Dermot loved his father deeply, and was completely confused and torn apart when his father also seemed to withdraw from him. He kind of knew that his parents had loved each other, and he was aware that the loss of his wife hit James Barry very hard. Dermot had tried to comfort his father while at the same time seeking comfort, but his father could not cope. He became emotionally isolated. He also began to drink too much. Dermot had the feeling of waiting for something to be over. Sooner or later, his dad would snap out of it, and be there for him once again. They would do all sorts of things together, and be happy again. But it never happened. Dermot was aware that his father was a very unhappy man. Pondering this, for the first time, he wondered whether his father had even tried to avoid death in Iraq.
And, of course, the time he spent at Uncle Steve's was a nightmare. There was no love there, not just for him, but for anyone in the family. Uncle Steve and Aunt Florie were always arguing, with Uncle Steve being violent, hitting his wife, and calling her names. Zach was the same way. Zach fought with Alice all the time, and made it plain he did not want Dermot there from the very first day. Zach was a lot like his father, dumb and crude, and tending to express himself in violence. Thinking over what Mr. Barlow said, and having watched Zach play football, he realized that his tendency to violence was one thing which prevented Zach from being the outstanding player he thought he was. He was always in trouble with the coach and the officials, and tended to rely on brute strength rather than strategy on the field. Alice was as stupid as the others, except, as a female, she tended to take out her feelings by being catty rather than by violence. Dermot could not remember one decent thing Alice ever said to him. They were all completely wrapped up in themselves, and had no love for anyone else. He would certainly not regret severing all ties with these relatives.
Except for a grandfather, who might or might not still be alive, and who was suffering from increasingly worse bouts of Alzheimers the last Dermot heard of him, there were no other relatives. Despite what Uncle Steve told Mrs. Harper, Dermot was sure his mother had no siblings. He knew of no other blood relatives. He really was alone in the world.
Well, not entirely. There was no one from his past whom he really cared about, but over the past week, he had come to know some pretty decent people. Dr. Shipley, and Nurse Bailey, and Dr. Rygalski, and even little Nurse Chandravari were good people. Then there was Mrs. Harper, whose sense of professionalism led her to spend her weekend digging up his past, and thus to the possibility of being freed from it. And Sgt. Flaherty, who, he was vaguely aware, was doing more than he had to to solve his other problems. Most of all, there were Mr. Lyle and his beautiful son, Lando. Dermot considered them for some time. He could not really grasp why they were so interested in him, but he knew they were doing a lot more than anyone could expect. After all, the hospital personnel, and Mrs. Harper, and Sgt. Flaherty were all connected to him because he was part of their professional responsibilities. But the Lyles, father and son, were pure extras. Okay, so Mr. Lyle was always helping people. Right now, he was helping Dermot, and that was great.
And Lando. What about Lando? There was no denying it, Dermot felt strongly attracted to Lando. Lando said he would be his friend, and at present he was about the only friend he had. Lando was clearly not stupid, so Dermot enjoyed talking with him. Even when he did not, could not, go along with his outlook. And, there was something more. It did not take much reflection for Dermot to admit that he was sexually attracted to Lando. He just did not know what to do about that. He had never had a positive sexual relationship with anyone he liked. Above all, he was afraid of losing Lando's friendship if he came on to him sexually. Lando indicated there was some block, some hindrance, to a sexual relationship, but Dermot had no idea what it might be, especially as he said he had no regular boyfriend. For now, Dermot decided it would be best to put any sexual contacts on hold.
But he could not sublimate it entirely. Dermot found himself hard. Thinking about Lando did that to him more and more often. Damn it, he had to do something to relieve the pressure. Dermot pressed the button, calling Nurse Chandravari, who helped him get into his wheel chair, and make his way to the restroom. This time, there was no avoiding it. He was there to jerk off, and to do so to thoughts of Lando. As Dermot took his seat on the commode, he called himself several interesting names for thinking of his friend this way, and using him as jerk off material. He wondered whether Lando would consider this just using someone else. No, he was definitely interested in the boy as a person, not a thing. Calling up the images of his friend, Dermot stroked himself to a pleasant hardness. At the same time, he was able to use his right hand sufficiently to reach under his hospital gown and caress his chest, bringing his nipples to a hardness as well. It did not take long, his hands working in unison, to bring himself to orgasm. Doing this consciously, and being aware of his previous experience, he was able to swallow any vocalizations in order not to cause Nurse Chandravari undue concern. Physically relieved, Dermot was nonetheless conscious that this experience did not give him the same level of satisfaction as the more spontaneous experience on Friday. Still uncertain about how to relate to Lando, Dermot returned to his bed.
On Wednesday, after his usual morning check-ups, including more x-rays and another visit to the ophthalmologist, Dermot found Sgt. Flaherty waiting for him.
"I did some checking about the information you gave us yesterday, Dermot. Your grandfather, John Michael Walsh, is in a nursing home. As you indicated, he is suffering from Alzheimers, so I doubt that we could get much reliable information from him. However, I checked all the local records, and as far as we can determine your grandparents had only two children, one of whom died shortly after birth, and the other of whom was your mother. So, we have definitely got your uncle on lying to Mrs. Harper."
"That's what I thought. I'm sure I never heard of my mom having a sister."
"Now, a question arises. Do you want to charge your uncle with child abuse and child neglect for kicking you out?"
"What will that mean?" Dermot asked.
"We'll serve a subpoena, call him into court, maybe fine him or even send him to jail for a time, depending on how severe the abuse was. Can you give me any details?"
Dermot thought about that. Her certainly could give details, but did he want to? "If all that happens, will I have to be there, too?"
"Well, yes. You will have to take the stand, and testify about the abuse, and your uncle's lawyers will ask you questions about it," Steve Flaherty told the boy.
"Then, I don't think I want to do that. I don't want to see Uncle Steve or Zach ever again."
"I think that's a mistake, Dermot. People who abuse do not usually stop with just one victim. But, it's got to be your decision. Please, talk it over with Mr. Lyle."
"Okay. I'll think about it. And I'll talk to Mr. Lyle about it. But I really don't want to see those fucking bullies again," Dermot declared.
"On the matter of your attackers, we're still checking. I had one of our guys check at the University to see whether any of the law students had a vehicle registered there that matched your description, but nothing yet. Have you thought of anything else?"
"One thing. Um, this is kind of embarrassing. You know I was on the streets, right?"
"Yes, Dermot. We know what you were doing. As I told you before, I'm not vice squad. My concern is to catch four guys who beat you to a pulp, and probably did others before you, and will do it to still others if they're not stopped."
'Well, anyway, I kind of know when somebody has had experience, you know. I mean, if a guy never did it with another guy before, it would be different than if he knew what he was doing, right? Well, you know, these guys raped me, right?"
"Yes. That's on our report. You were definitely sexually violated," Sgt. Flaherty confirmed.
"Like I told you before, the two guys in the back had me suck them while we were driving around. Then, after we stopped, the guy who made the first contact, Gary, and one of the guys from the front seat fucked my ass. The others jerked off on me after I was on the ground, and at least one of them pissed on me. But the guys who fucked me had done it before. I know. One of them even joked about not using K-Y this time. So, I think we can eliminate any guys who are just plain anti-gay. These guys are sick. They like fucking young ass, and hurting the guy they're fucking."
"Okay, that helps narrow the field, I guess. We have four men, what? Late twenties or early thirties?"
"Yeah, I'd guess so."
"Driving a fairly new SUV, and speaking with an educated accent. Maybe connected in some way with the legal profession. Given to violence. And they like fucking around with boys."
"Not much, I know. Sorry, but, like I said before, I was too busy trying to avoid fists and feet to pay much attention to anything else."
"We'll get them, Dermot. We have to," the policeman promised.
Not long after Sgt. Flaherty left, Walter Lyle came into Dermot's room. When he saw him, Dermot brightened immediately.
"So, you saw the judge yesterday, and Uncle Steve no longer has any rights over me, right?"
"Not so fast. Yesterday, I filed a petition to terminate your uncle's custodial rights, and Mrs. Harper, Sgt. Flaherty, and your old teacher, Mr. Barlow testified on your behalf. But we have to give your uncle an opportunity to respond. After all, he's been accused of child neglect and child abuse."
"I thought Sgt. Flaherty said I had the choice about filing charges. I don't want to see him again!" Dermot exclaimed. "What now?"
"These things take time. I know you're impatient, but believe me, things are moving along smoothly. I have no doubt that things will work out the way you want. The judge ordered that your uncle be served notice of intent to terminate his guardianship rights. He'll be given a week to respond. Next week, if there is no response, we go ahead and get you declared a ward of the state. But if for some reason your uncle challenges this decision, he has a right to be heard in court. Can you think of any reason he might want to keep control over you?"
"Hell no! He kicked me out! Told me he never wanted to see me again!"
"Are there any property issues? Did your father leave a large insurance policy, for example? Anything of that kind?"
"No. Not as far as I know. Uncle Steve always griped that I was costing him money."
"What about the house you lived in before your father was called up? Furniture? Personal items?"
Dermot pondered that. "I don't know. I guess I never really thought about it. As far as personal items are concerned, there are some things I'd like to get back. I had photos of my mom and dad, and my birth certificate, and a couple of other things like that, but nothing of any value. Oh, yeah. There was a little plastic statue of St. Dermot. I kept that because my dad gave it to me. Can't think of anything else."
"All right. We need to find out about the estate of the late James Edward Barry. Are you sure you don't want to pursue legal action against your uncle on the child abuse charges?"
"Sgt. Flaherty said I would have to go to court and be questioned. I don't think I could stand that. They'd ask me about why I got kicked out, and what happened then, and what I was doing on the streets."
"Hmmm. Well, that's still something to consider. I understand your reluctance to talk about those things, Dermot, but I want you to think about it, too. We won't make any final decisions just yet."
After lunch, Mrs. Harper returned to see Dermot, also bringing him follow-up information.
"I returned to the Barry household this morning, Dermot. As I recall, you said your uncle often beat his wife, so I was looking for that. I found it. Mrs. Barry showed bruises on her arms and cheeks, and had a black eye. I'm sure most of that was not there yesterday, or I would have noticed. When I told her we were checking on the story about an aunt, she looked frightened to death. Why would your uncle have hit his wife, do you suppose?"
"Uncle Steve doesn't need a reason. He likes hitting people. Makes him feel important. But he was probably pissed off about your visit yesterday, and took it out on Aunt Florie. That's the way thing work around there, and one reason I won't go back. He took it out on me lots of times. And so did Zach."
"I have not met your cousin Zach as yet. However, I did see your cousin Alice again today. After leaving your aunt, I went to Western High School to pick up an official transcript of your academic records. We have more or less decided that you need to get started on catching up on what you've missed this year. But, back to the point, I met your cousin Alice in the school hallway. She was rather ... draped I guess ... about another student, but I decided to speak with her anyway. It's always best to get as many views of a situation as possible. She was not much help. She said she did not know where you were, but said you had been gone for a long time, since last summer, and were kicked out because you were, and I quote, 'a disgusting pervert.' That confirms your account of the situation. I think Alice was displeased that I interrupted her make out session with the young man."
"Alice always was a bitch and a slut," Dermot unmercifully responded. "Which of her many admirers was she displaying her wares to today?"
"I was not introduced, but he was a nice looking black boy, very muscular, and I believe I heard her call him Tyler," Mrs. Harper reported with a smile.
"Oh geez. Don't tell Uncle Steve or Zach. They'll kill her."
"Why is that?"
"They're really down on blacks. Uncle Steve is always talking about 'lazy niggers,' and blaming all kinds of things on blacks. If he knew Alice was making out with a black guy, he might treat her the way he did me - beat her up, rape her, and kick her out."
"What? What did you say about rape?"
"Geez, I didn't mean to say that. Just forget it."
"No, Dermot, I cannot just forget it," the dedicated social worker replied. "Is that what happened to you? Did your uncle actually rape you?"
"Not exactly," the agitated boy evasively replied.
"Come on, Dermot. Tell me. Is your cousin in real danger? Just what happened to you the day you were sent away?"
Dermot was very disturbed at this turn of the conversation. He had been holding back this bit of information, even from Lando. It was too humiliating. But maybe Alice was in danger. She was a bitch and an airhead, but she did not deserve to get what happened to him. No one did. Reluctantly, he began to speak.
"I told you I got kicked out when Uncle Steve found me kissing Danny, the guy I thought was my boyfriend. It wasn't that simple, though. When Uncle Steve found us, he began yelling, and grabbed me by the hair and threw me on the floor. Danny ran away. But Uncle Steve began hitting me. I tried to duck him, and managed to get under the kitchen table. Then Zach came in, and helped Uncle Steve catch me. Uncle Steve told him that I was a queer and a cocksucker, and Zach said something like, 'I knew it all the time. What are you going to do with the queer?' Uncle Steve said, 'Get rid of the cocksucker.' Then Zach said, 'I bet he likes to have his ass fucked too. Can I fuck his ass before you throw the fairy out?' Uncle Steve said it would serve me right. I tried to pull away, but Uncle Steve held me down, while Zach pulled my jeans and shorts down. Then, he ... he ... he fucked me." Dermot was crying now, hot angry tears streaked his cheeks, as his face crumpled with the bitter memories. "It was the first time anyone ever fucked my ass. I must have bled, because Zach laughed and said it was just like taking a girl's cherry, and Uncle Steve laughed, too. Zach asked Uncle Steve if he wanted my ass, too, but he didn't. I was glad, 'cause it hurt something awful." Dermot was having trouble making himself understood, as he half swallowed his words in reliving his humiliation. "Then Uncle Steve told Zach to toss me out on the garbage heap. Zach's a lot bigger than I am. He picked me up and carried me outside. I was crying and kind of limp, I guess. He dumped me in the gutter, and said, 'If I catch you around here again, I'll fuck you til you bleed even worse." Uncle Steve said, "Get the hell out of my sight. I don't ever want to see you again. I can't stand queers.' So, I crawled off, and got up, and walked away. I never want to see those two bastards again, either."
Mrs. Harper was aghast at the story Dermot related, but, having met Steve Barry, and having seen Florie's bruises, she believed him. She did her best to comfort the boy, but knew that she had to take action.
"Dermot, I understand how you feel, but we have to have your uncle and cousin arrested and tried for this."
"No! I don't want to ever see them again! I can't stand up in court and tell the whole world about getting my ass fucked. I can't!"
"I do understand, but in a way, we have no choice. The law requires someone in my position to report to the police any known case of sexual abuse of minors like this."
"Oh, please! Don't! I'll say I made it up! I don't want .... I can't .... It's too much."
"Listen to me, Dermot. We will be sure neither your uncle nor your cousin come near you. I'm certain Mr. Lyle will represent you, and see to it that you're protected. But I must report this. And think of this. You said your uncle might treat your cousin the same way if he found out about her seeing a black boy. He and your cousin Zach are threats to others as long as they go unpunished. They're even worse than the men who beat and raped you last weekend. They're your relatives, not strangers. We cannot allow them to continue being a public danger, Dermot. I know it will be hard, but you've got to cooperate with us in this."
"Well, what if I don't?"
"I'm still required to report it, and the police are still required to act on my report."
"Nothing will happen. Just like when I asked for help back after my dad died."
"That's something else I want to tell you about. We reviewed the situation, and found that there had been no follow-up on your complaint, and the worker simply took your uncle and aunt's word without trying to find out what really happened. I know it's late, and does not make up for what you've been through, especially after hearing what you had to say today, but that worker has been suspended and will be fired unless she can show good reason for her negligence in your case."
"Really?"
"Yes. We make mistakes, Dermot, but most of us are trying to do the right thing. Won't you help us?"
"I need to see Mr. Lyle."
"All right. That makes sense. I will call him, and relay to him what you have told me. I'm sure he will want you to follow through on this."
"Yeah," Dermot sighed, "he probably will."
Mrs. Harper withdrew, but even as she did, she pulled out her cell phone to contact Walter Lyle. It did not surprise Dermot that the lawyer reappeared in his room less than an hour later.
"Dermot, I had a very disturbing conversation with Mrs. Harper. She told me you were raped by your cousin Zachary, with your Uncle Steve actually helping him. Is this true?"
"Yeah. I didn't want to tell anybody. It's just too much. Now I'll never get into a decent foster home."
"Don't worry about that. Tell me everything. Every detail. I know this is painful to you, but it is extremely important."
And so, Dermot repeated his tale of sexual and physical abuse at the hands of his uncle and guardian, and of his cousin. If anything, it was more complete than what he related to Mrs. Harper earlier. He was embarrassed, and angry, and hurt all at once. When he had completed his story, he was trembling, sobbing, breathless.
"Are you willing now to follow through? Are you prepared to go to court?"
"I guess I have to," Dermot concluded. "Mrs. Harper says they might do something like this to Alice, or to someone else."
"Experience shows that abusers most often repeat the abuse unless steps are taken to prevent it," Mr. Lyle asserted. "Mrs. Harper also told me she strongly suspects your uncle abuses your aunt."
"Oh, he does. He gets mad about something, and hits Aunt Florie. He used to hit me, too. Sometime, it had nothing to do with me, or with Aunt Florie."
At this awkward moment, Lando bopped into the room.
"Hi, Dermot! Hi, Dad! What are you doing here? Gosh, Dermot, you look awful. What's wrong?"
Dermot could not help himself. He burst out into tears all over again. "Please, go away. I can't take any more."
"What? What did I do?" Lando asked.
"It's not you, son. Dermot has had a very difficult afternoon. I think he needs time to recover. Maybe you should come back later. Dermot, Lando and I will both leave you. I'll ask Nurse Bailey if she can give you something to make you sleep."
"Thanks. Sorry, Lando," Dermot sobbed.
Lando leaned down and kissed the other boy on the forehead. "I'll be back," he said.