Every time I’d get hard, my stomach would ache, but I’d have this fantasy conversation with Hollis while I jacked off. I’d imagined that it was him jacking me off, but after I’d come, I felt more alone and hated myself. Sometimes the pain in my stomach would be so bad while I jacked off. I’d kneel on my floor next to my bed and bury my face in the pillow in case I made noise. My left hand would press against my abdomen while my right hand quickly jacked myself off. The stomach pain was terrible, but I longed to hear the words I’d made up in my mind that Hollis would say as I’d come.
“That was so hot. I love you, Patrick,”he’d whisper in my ear.
I’d smile at his words, then as reality would set in, the smile would fade.
The cold would come.
The aches were magnified.
The sadness and dread were overwhelming.
Tears would soak my pillow.
And no matter how many layers of shirts I wore to bed, or how many blankets I piled on, the cold would always come. It was a bone-chilling cold that even a hot shower struggled to combat.
After my latest jack off session, I pulled my clothes on and grabbed my notebook.
I want to be your friend.
I’ve wanted a friend.
I probably wouldn’t be a very good friend.
Just like I’m not a good son.
Then you’d stop being my friend.
Just like Mom stopped being my mom.
I stopped writingand stared at my words. What was wrong with me?
Sixteen years old/10th Grade/January
Ihated Sebastian.
I hated Eli.
I had no idea which one I hated more.
They were both fucking assholes.
My hands seemed stiff and like I could barely curl them into fists. No matter what, they had the upper hand. Always.
“Well, look at that, Eli. You were right,” Sebastian said as he reached out and tapped me on the cheek. “He’s not saying much.”
“You just need to find the right combination of things,” Eli said as he watched me. “Find the weak spot and exploit it.”
I sat on the floor against one of the walls of my walk-in closet and stared at them while they laughed. Their laughter made it even worse. Eli reached out and ran the back of his hand from my ear to my jaw.
“Don’t like closets much anymore, do you?” he asked.
“Seems like you scared him into not talking again,” Sebastian said. “I prefer it when he doesn’t talk.”
“He’ll talk again. Eventually.”
“That sucks.” Sebastian truly sounded disappointed.
“When he does start talking again, we’ll do it again. The idea is to wear him down. Fighting and resisting takes so much mental and physical energy.” Eli smiled at me and then brushed his thumb along my cheek, collecting the moisture and tears. He pushed his thumb into his mouth while he stared at me. “When he’s worn down completely, this will become much easier.”
