Sons of Sparta - A Story of the Spartans, Book 3
(inspired by the story 'Spartan' parts 1 through 4)
by argouru
Note: All credit for the creation of the Spartans and Amazons, as well as the Spartan mythos belongs to the author 'CF', to whom I owe special thanks for his allowing me to write about these incredible people.
WARNING: Portions of this book in the series include depictions of mental illness.
Henry entered the room slowly, the machinery still making their various sounds as they worked away at maintaining the human's breathing and monitoring his heart rate. The Spartan sat down slowly and took the human's right hand into his own. After a time, he fell asleep with his head resting on John's unbroken leg...
"Henry?" Craig called out softly from the doorway awhile later. The Spartan lifted his head to see his fellow paramedic standing there looking at him with concern. "There you are!" Craig added. "What are you doing in here?"
"Hey there," he answered, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
Craig entered slowly and looked at the patient closely. "Hey... This is the traffic accident from awhile back."
"He has a name, you know," Henry replied with a frown. "It's John."
"You know him?"
"He's my partner," Henry said softly.
"Since when do you have a partner?" Craig asked, sounding shocked. "I thought you didn't want one."
"Life works oddly, I guess," Henry replied with a rueful smile. "Sorry I haven't been in lately."
"Well no, I guess not. I mean I'd hate to think of June being like this." June was Craig's wife and Henry had met her a few times over the years. the human woman was a nice person. He would have also hated to see her like this.
"Yeah, I know."
"Has he been like this since we brought him in?"
"Yeah."
"How long have you guys been together?"
"We haven't really... First time I saw him was when we came to the scene of the accident."
"What?" Craig asked in shock. "Henry! You're in a relationship with a coma patient?!? That's nuts!"
"He needs me," Henry said simply.
"But it's still nuts... Look, Barry's been asking about you. He got word that you're here."
The last thing Henry needed right now was to be chewed out by his boss. "Fuck... Look, I can't just leave him, Craig," Henry said, looking at the man in the bed.
"Alright, I'll try talking to Barry for you."
"Don't tell him when I found John... Just say we've only been together for a short while."
"Will do," Craig said with a wave as he went to leave. He stopped at the door. "Hey Henry? I hope he wakes up soon," the human said, looking at the man in the bed with pity.
"Thanks."
With a nod, the human paramedic left the room...
John laid there in darkness, only able to hear what was happening around him from time to time, yet unable to move, speak or even open his eyes. He kept hearing the sounds of one of those heart beat machines that beeped regularly, as well as a rhythmic hissing sound. He was also vaguely aware of lying on his back in something that felt like a bed. There was also a man, one who's voice he didn't recognize, who talked to him sometimes. Part of him liked the sound of that voice and was grateful to the person, whoever he was. The rest of the time, though, the dark despair inside him made him wish the man would just go away and leave him alone to die.
In the quiet times, his mind drifted back, remembering what had happened to him...
~~John had been coming to the temple for the last few months on his Wednesdays off from the car wash he worked at. The temple seemed nice enough and no one seemed too grossed out by the poor state of his physique, which couldn't compare to that of many of the men who frequented the temple, who looked like they spent every moment outside of the temple working out on the beaches all day, what with their perpetual tans and well-muscled bodies. He found himself jealous of those men as well as desiring them. But the more he saw of these men, the more he saw that most of them were already dating someone exclusively. He was a bit shocked that so many gay men frequented the temple. However, it only served to remind him of just how lonely he himself was. He felt his depression return with a vengeance at that, but hid it as best he could.
John had even gone as far as to attend services a few times, although he never actually prayed. He felt that doing so would be a wasted effort because he was certain that the god of this temple already saw him as unworthy of notice, assuming the being was even real at all. Perhaps this Apollo person hated him the same way everyone else did. It didn't matter to him, though, because no one hated John anywhere near as much as he hated himself. His family didn't care about his feelings, that was for sure. His sister hardly ever talked to him, his mother always acted like he didn't have the slightest clue as what he was ever talking about, his father had taken off once he was born and a homophobic piece of shit who had treated him like trash from the moment he had come out as gay had moved in on them and was trying to force himself off onto John as a foster father. Quite frankly, the man was such an obnoxious person that John hated him almost as much as he hated himself. He had no friends, his coworkers either avoided him or made homophobic slurs to or about him all of the time. In school he had been bullied and tormented by everyone. All of that only proved to him just how worthless and unwanted he was.
He'd felt like this ever since the age of fourteen. He wasn't sure quite when it had happened, but he gradually became aware of just how much he hated himself. He couldn't stand to look in the mirror anymore because he hated what he saw there. He was scrawny and ugly, his eyes all beady, his nose too big and with fat lips. He felt like a moron and couldn't ever seem to do anything right. Then he began to pay more attention to how people treated him. Whenever he tried to talk to anyone, they would always interrupt him or not let him have the chance to speak at all. It began to feel as though they all thought that he couldn't possibly have anything important to say. It wasn't that he wanted to be the center of attention, or anything, he just wanted to feel as though he was an equal to those around him. But most people pulled away from him or ignored him, as though they were hoping that he'd take the hint and go away. He had always been a quiet and withdrawn person, but this perception made him become even more so. He began to feel worthless and unlovable. The feelings grew over time and now he no longer bothered to try to be around others. He'd taken the hint... He was worthless and unworthy of being around others.
He didn't think that way because he wanted pity... He didn't want to be surrounded by crowds of adoring fans... He just wanted people to treat him like something other than some foul thing they had stepped in that was now stuck to the bottom of their shoe. He began to see himself as ugly, stupid and worthless... A mistake. He began to truly see himself as the embodiment of everything that was repulsive and unlovable... He saw it as a literal truth that made him ache and hate deep down inside, with it spreading like a poison through his mind and heart.
His despair grew stronger and stronger, turning into an intense self-hatred. It wasn't long before he reached the point where all he wanted to do was die. If the world hated him that much, then he'd hate himself too because he honestly began to believe that to be the truth. Life became something simply to endure until it was over with, but the end wouldn't come. Each night he went to sleep, begging his body to die in the night, but it never did. He now plodded on day to day, wishing that tomorrow would never come and hating himself more and more each morning when he awoke.
John never wanted attention or pity. He merely wanted his life to end so that he could hopefully find some measure of peace in oblivion, as he didn't believe in any kind of an afterlife... Or rather, he sincerely hoped there wasn't such a thing. He didn't want to exist beyond death. His family hated him, he had no friends, his coworkers treated him horribly and whenever he went out to bars or clubs, everyone he liked ignored him. With everyone else treating him like this, how could he expect a god to care either? Because of that, he never bothered to pray... It seemed like a wasted effort. If this was all life had to offer him, being forced to live when no one wanted or loved him, then he didn't want to exist anymore.
Slashing his wrists when he was twenty had been the single hardest thing he had ever done in his life, but in the end, he had failed. He hadn't cut well enough and his mother found him in the bathtub passed out. He had still been living at home at the time and had been shouted at furiously for his stupidity and selfishness, telling him he was the stupidest person ever and that he should think about others. It was always that way. His family had never considered his feelings, it was always about everyone else. His personal pain was irrelevant.
The second suicide attempt, jumping off of a bridge, had been thwarted by the police, who had humiliated him by dragging him off to a mental hospital where counselors talked endlessly and forced him to take pills that did nothing to prevent his bouts of depression, instead making him feel emotionally numb the rest of the time. He stopped taking the pills, which hadn't worked anyways, once he'd left the hospital.
This third attempt had also failed, much to John's sorrow, making him hate himself even more. Why? Why was he such a stupid, worthless failure that he couldn't even die? What the fuck was wrong with him that he kept screwing it up again and again? What was so horrible about not wanting to hurt anymore? John just wanted it to all go away. He was worthless, stupid, ugly and would never be worthy of anything.
After the service, he had turned in the sword, making sure he kept his wrists facing downward so that no one would see the scars from his first failure and gotten dressed, then picked up his backpack. He left the temple and walked out to the corner, waiting for the light to change so that he could cross the street to the bus stop. As he stared at the light, he suddenly realized that he didn't want to go home. What was the point? Even his roommate didn't give a flying fuck about him. As far as Jim was concerned, John was just a rent check to him. He remained still as the light changed and a few people passed by him. He didn't want to go home... He didn't want to go anywhere. All he wanted was to stop hurting inside all of the time. The light turned red and he stayed standing there. His backpack strap slid off his limp shoulder, but he didn't try to stop it. Instead, he let it fall to the ground. He stood there, staring forward blankly and ignoring the look of confusion the man next to him had given him.
He let go of the strap and left the backpack on the sidewalk. He heard a car speed up to make it through the changing traffic light and strode forward, stopping in the middle of the lane. Just die this time you worthless piece of shit! he thought to himself as he closed his eyes, waiting for the car to hit him. Suddenly, something soft slammed into him, throwing him hard to his right. As he flew through the air, a second, harder impact smashed into him and pain exploded in his left side. He was flung even harder and finally struck the ground hard, his head smacking the hard asphalt...
After that, he recalled voices around him at various times, but didn't recognize any of them... ~~
John opened his eyes and slowly looked around. Just as he had figured, he was alone in a hospital room. He tried to sit up, but felt sharp pain all down his left side that made him gasp. He looked down at himself with difficulty due to the breathing mask and the sharp pain in his head and saw that his left arm and leg were both in casts. He reached up with his unbound hand, feeling a stinging pain in his right arm as he did so and took off the breathing mask he wore. He fumbled with the heart monitor, finally turning it off so that the damned beeping sound would go away. Then he used his teeth to remove the monitor clip from his finger. He looked at the IV tube attached to his arm, feeling furious. He'd failed yet again and it only served to make his self-hatred rise in strength. He lifted his right arm, took the IV tube in his teeth and yanked savagely, tearing the needle out of his arm and creating a new wound and a searing pain in the crook of his arm. He stared at it dully as the blood trickled from the injury, wishing it would bleed faster.
His anger and self-hatred grew blinding and he balled up his fist, then punched himself hard in the face, sobbing angrily as he began to flail away repeatedly at himself. "Stupid! Worthless! Useless piece of shit! Just die already! DIE! DIE! DIE!" he sobbed in a furious, repressed scream so that no one else would hear. He struck himself in the face again and again until sudden pain exploded in his nose as his hand hit it, breaking the cartilage. The pain made him stop then, so he laid there, sobbing with grief as his nose bled freely as well.
It took awhile, but he finally finished crying, although he didn't care about his injuries other than the pain they caused him. The bleeding had stopped, much to his sorrow, when his mother and her boyfriend entered the room and stopped in shock as they saw him.
"What the hell?" his mother said. "Oh for crying out loud!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "Will you knock this shit off already! It's pathetic!"
Her boyfriend shook his head with a deprecating smile. "Congratulations, Penis Breath. You really outdid yourself this time. What? Is this supposed to impress us?"
"Leave me alone," John said dispiritedly.
"I mean seriously," the man pressed. "How fucking stupid are you, huh?"
"When are you going to grow up?" his mother added, looking more embarrassed than anything else. "I'm sick of all this childish bullshit of yours. Not everything is all about you, dammit!"
John closed his eyes, wishing that they would just go away and leave him alone.
"Don't roll your eyes at us, Butt Muncher," the older man replied fiercely, intentionally misreading the gesture. "You think this is funny? You like pain? Fine!" He moved forward as John cringed away in fear at the older man's sudden hostility.
"Stop it!" his mother chided her boyfriend. "That won't solve anything! What's wrong with you? He clearly needs to be back in the institution."
"NO!' the man shouted. "I'm sick of this stupid little faggot always pulling this 'I want attention' bullshit! If he wants to feel pain then I'll give him plenty...!"
Henry had run home to eat and shower, asking the nurses to call him if there was any change in John's condition. Once he'd bathed, changed clothes and eaten a hurried meal of Hot Pockets, he rushed back, not wanting to be away should John regain consciousness. It had been three days now with no sign of the human he was bonded to regaining consciousness. He headed back to the hospital, feeling worried that John might never wake up. He parked his car in the employee parking lot, entered and rode the elevator up to the fourth floor.
"Hey Henry!" Anne, the head nurse for the floor, called out to him.
"Hey Anne. Any news about John?"
"Yeah, his family's here. They're in with him now," she finished, looking uncomfortable.
"What's wrong?" he asked, noting her discomfort.
"The husband tried to hit on me. Right in front of his wife, no less!"
"What? Are you serious?"
"Yeah," Anne said. "That man's a pig!"
Henry sighed. "Alright, I'll go talk to them."
He had been curious about John's family, but got the impression that he might not like John's father very much if that was the kind of man he was. As he approached the room, he heard angry voices and entered as a man he didn't know moved towards the bed with his fist raised. "-If he wants to feel pain then I'll give him plenty!" the man said.
Shocked and angered, Henry reacted instantly by lunging forward, grabbing the raised arm and flinging the attacker into the wall. The man was surprised, but even if he'd had some warning, the human wouldn't have been a good match for the Spartan. As the man slid down the wall, Henry turned to his partner, who was staring down at his father with shock. Henry's eyes bulged in shock at the new injuries on John's face and unbroken arm, as well as the blood stains on him and his bedding. He rounded on the fallen man. "What the fuck did you do to him?!?" He shouted.
"I didn't even get a chance!" the human shouted back. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, rising painfully. "One of his little faggot friends?"
"You son of a bitch!" Henry retorted furiously. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"None of your business, Cock Sucker!" the human snapped.
Henry noted a trace of white just inside the man's left nostril. "Are you on drugs?!?" he asked in shock.
"Dammit, Jerry!" the woman exclaimed. "I told you to stop doing that garbage in the house!"
"What's going on in here?" Wilson from hospital security asked, appearing at the doorway.
"Wilson, take this man into custody for assault and being under the influence. From the way he's acting, I'd guess that it's meth."
"I didn't hit him yet!" Jerry protested as Wilson and one of his men subdued the human antagonist, who struggled futilely in their arms.
"Then how did John end up looking like this?" Henry demanded. "Where did all of the injuries to his face and right arm come from?"
"He was like this when we came in!" the woman protested.
"Oh come on!" Henry snapped. "What?!? He did all of that to himself?!?" He turned to John, who was looking at his knees. "John? Who hurt you like this?"
John's face twisted into an expression of guilt and grief. Henry felt as though his heart had frozen in his chest. "John? What did you do?" he asked, feeling horrified, his voice trembling with shock.
The human refused to answer the question, staring at his knees. Henry felt horrified as the truth set in. He walked over and picked up the discarded IV line with his hand and saw the teeth marks on the transparent rubber tubing. "John" he gasped. "Why did you do this?"
John faced away from him and closed his eyes. "It doesn't matter," he said dully in a voice that was nearly a whisper.
"Yes it does," Henry said tearfully. "John... Why did you do this?" He reached for the man gently, who flinched away.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!!!" John screamed, lashing out with his right arm and catching Henry in the cheek with his elbow, knocking the Spartan backwards. "EVERYONE LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" the human screamed in grief and fury, then he lunged to his left off of the bed, headless of his injuries. Before anyone could catch him, he tumbled to the floor, landing hard on his broken left arm. The intense pain made him scream for a moment before he passed out...