Friday, July 15, 2005

   fic

“All the other kids who were there: gays, drug addicts, pregnant teenage girls, alcoholics, and other ‘undesirables’ of society; everyone of them hated me. They wanted to be there and I didn’t so that sparked countless fights and arguments, which always ended in me getting all the blame. Peter would, of course claim that the other kids were just as responsible but it didn’t result in anything other then both of us being sent to the ‘principles’ office, so to speak. For each ‘offense’, and it seems like just about anything I liked doing was an ‘offense’, you were caned by the principle. It hurt like...”

“What do you mean ‘caned’?” Katherine broke in to ask.

Caine stared at him incredulously. “You mean you’ve never been caned?”

Katherine shook his head in confusion. “Umm… I don’t think so. Do they just beat you with a cane?” he asked.

“ ‘JUST’” Caine exclaimed, taking his right hand off Katherine’s back, and rising it high into the air before bringing it down with a loud SMACK on Katherine's ass.

“Oowww!” Katherine squealed. “What did you do that for?” he asked with no real anger.

“Being caned, by someone who even remotely knows what they are doing hurts more then being, strapped, switched, belted, whatever. It is like 10 times the pain of any of those. I can’t believe you have never been caned. While…hmmm…. We can fix that. Remind me tomorrow to give you your first caning, babe.” Caine said, grinning. Katherine nodded and giggled gleefully.

“Okay, now that that is cleared up I’ll continue,” Caine said, the joy and fun gone from his voice.

“Anyway, it was hell there. But as bad as it was for me it was worst for Peter. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and then finally we had been there a year and one month, Peter had made little progress if any toward being ‘cured’. He had changed so much from the optimistic, cheerful, happy boy he had been before we went to the rehabilitation center. Now he was a miserable mess. He…he…” Caine had to stop. He took a deep breath. I won’t cry, he mentally screamed at himself. I WILL not cry. “He cried every time he was alone with me. He…he blamed himself for his failures in ‘treatment’. He would pray for at least 3hrs every fuckin night, usually 4 or 5 hours though, and when he didn’t progress in ‘treatment’ he of course didn’t blame ‘God’ or the sick bastards fuckin around with his psyche. NO!!! HE BLAMED HIMSELF!!! THOSE GODDAMN, SICK TWISTED FUCKS MADE MY BIG BROTHER HATE HIMSELF!!!” Caine screamed, so loud his voice rung in Katherine’s ears.

“Shit, Caine. I’m sorry. How can people do that!? They’re……they’re…fuckin warped, sadistic bitches!” Katherine angrily spat out.

“Yes they are,” Caine added, still valiantly trying to keep dry eyes.

“Peter told me exactly how he felt one night in the room we shared. He was crying, and praying, begging ‘God’ to please give him the ‘strength to conquer’ his sins. After about two hours of this I couldn’t take it. I finally said, ‘Goddamnit, Peter! It is not your fault that you are gay! You just are! Just like you just have brown hair. Will you please stop hating yourself for something that you can’t control!’

“Peter finished the pray he was saying then turned to me with a look of pity, that sicken me. ‘Caine, I love you. You are my dear baby brother and I will love you despite your sins. But I sincerely hope you change your attitude toward what the center is trying to do for us because if you don’t you can’t ever hope to be cured! And DO NOT EVER SAY THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN AROUND ME AGAIN OR I WILL BE FORCED TO TELL THE FATHER ON YOU! And it is too my fault that I am a faggot. It is I who am a perverse, weak, sinful, miscreant AND IT IS MY FAULT THAT I HAVE NOT BEEN CURED YET!!!!’ he finished with a shout. The look in his eyes was scary. It was a look devoid of all reason and hope, just clinging to the false words of evil men. He then turned away from me and began again his futile prayers. I could hear his deep smooth voice murmuring to the heavens for more then 6 hours that night. While he claimed he still had hope, I knew he had none. I knew but could think of nothing to do. I couldn’t even go to give him a hug that night because; so little the center trusted us that they strapped our arms to the bed with very thick leather straps. ‘To protect you from any perverse acts you might be urged to perform due to your condition’ they told us.

“The next day I had ‘Masculinity Training’ first thing in the morning while Peter had freetime. Before I left for MT he said, ‘I love you Caine. It is not your fault. Believe that. Please.’

“I left, not knowing what he was getting on about, worried that I’d be late again and get caned for it. I regret deeply not talking to him about what he was saying,” Caine finished sadly and finally gave in to the tears which were waiting. Katherine could not find any words of comfort as Caine drenched him in tears and continued.

“An hour later there was a disturbance in the main church. A single loud shout had been heard from inside. A janitor was sent to investigate. It was thought very odd for someone to be in the church. It was closed for repairs, and the repairs had not yet begun so no one should have been in it. It should have been empty. It wasn’t. What the janitor saw when he opened the double doors of the church was…” Caine trailed off and finally surrendered to the absolute and crushing pain, grief, and guilt. He pushed Katherine off him and jumped out of the bed.

“Aaaaaaaaagggggggguuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggg!” Caine screamed a scream of pure emotional release and slammed his fist into the wall above Katherine’s head.

“Aaahh…oh.” Katherine shouted thinking Caine was going to punch him, then sighing in relief when Caine pulverized the wall instead. “Caine?” Katherine reached out to take Caine’s hand in his. Katherine saw Caine,quick as a flash,draw his hand away then send it at back at him in a fist to his face. “Ooooowwww!” Katherine yelled in pain, falling back onto the mattress and holding his right cheek, while whimpering.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” Caine howled at the shocked and frighten Katherine.

A ghastly and haunting image flashed in Caine’s mind and he shrieked as if struck. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to ride himself of the horrible image, then collapsed to the floor, face down, in defeat. He sobbed, cried, sniveled, and moaned, not looking at all like the untouchable man he tried to make himself out to be.

“CAINE” Katherine wailed. He didn’t know what was causing Caine such anguish, he didn’t know how to alleviate it, but he did know that he could not just lay there and do nothing while Caine lay on the floor alone, crying his eyes out. Katherine got out of the bed, and walked unsteadily (his entire body was quite sore) the few steps to where Caine lay. Slowly, gingerly, he sat down beside him.

“Get away from me, Kat!” he screamed at him. “Leave me alone for awhile, will you?” he added pleadingly.

“No Caine, I will not. It is okay to cry in front of me. You’re only human. I…” before Kat knew what had even happen, Caine had grabbed his waist, shoved him to the floor, then straddled him, pinning him to the floor.

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch!” Caine roared at Katherine. “Do you have even the foggiest idea of what goes on in my head?! Do you know how much I fuckin hate myself?! How…”

Katherine balled his tiny hands into a fist and swung it at Caine’s face above him. It connected with little force but surprised Caine enough to silence him.

Katherine took advantage of Caine’s shock to try to reason with him before he got punched again. “No I don’t know what goes on in your head or how you feel or how much you hate yourself. And you want to know why I don’t know? Because you never fuckin told me! You tell me to tell the truth when you don’t. You are a fuckin hypocrite. If you are going to beat the shit out of me and smack me around then the least you can do is tell me the truth. What the fuck goes on in your head? Tell me, Caine. Trust me Caine. Trust me…”

Caine had listened silently until then. “I hate the fucking truth. I don’t want to admit it. I don’t even know what it is…”

“Don’t give me that crap. You wouldn’t take that from me and I’m not going to just shut the fuck up, like I do every other time!” Katherine shouted.

“Where the fuck do you get off at talking to me like I’m your bitch?! Do you WANT to get the shit beat out of you?!!” Caine shouted back at him, and slapped him across the face.

“Aaah!” Katherine wailed when Caine’s hand connected with his already battered face. Yet for his sake and Caine’s he would not back down. “Go ahead and beat me Caine. Beat me into a bloody pulp if that will take the pain you bear silently away. I just want to help you Caine. Is that so wrong? We can help each other.” Katherine waited, fully prepared for another blow to the face but instead Caine got off of him. Katherine sighed in relief, and gladly accepted Caine’s hand when he extended it toward him. Katherine took it and was pulled into Caine’s crushing embrace. Caine had stopped crying. Maybe what he is about to say can not be expressed by anything, even tears, Katherine thought.

“In the church, there was a rope hanging down from the catwalks that the lighting crew used. Hanging from the rope was Peter. He had…hung…him…him…himself.” Caine sat there, with Katherine clinging to him, not crying, but shaking violently.

Katherine was at a loss for words. What could I possibly say to help him, he thought. Maybe it’s best if I don’t say anything, he decided. I will just hold him tight and listen, he concluded and did so as Caine began to talk.

“They sent for me and I got there before the body was taken down. I saw my big brother hanging dead from the ‘house of God’s’ ceiling. His eyes were bulged out, his skin was nothing like it had been when he was alive. His beautiful pale, smooth skin was blue. It was actually fuckin blue!! His tall muscular form hung there, swinging back and forth, dead. He was DEAD!!! DEAD!!! DEAD!! DEAD!! DEAD!!” he screamed. “And do you know why?” he asked Katherine, in a suddenly quite voice.

Katherine didn’t say anything, not sure if Caine really wanted him to answer, but not hearing him go on he cautiously began, “Homophobia killed…” he began but was shut up by Caine’s sharp yell.

“NO! I killed him. It was MY fault! It was because I didn’t listen to him that all that shit happen. If I had not gone on that stupid date with John, if I would have been more discreet about my sexuality…”

“Oh, come on, you can’t be serious! It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Peter’s fault. It was your parents’ fault. And it was the church’s fault. Homophobia killed Peter. Not you!” Katherine shouted desperately.

“But there must have been something I could have done to stop him…” Caine said and began to cry again.

“Caine, Peter didn’t want you to blame yourself! He was right when he said it wasn’t your fault. Why can’t you see this? Those fuckin bastards trying to ‘cure’ him and your depraved parents killed Peter! They killed him! They did! Not you! Not you! NOT YOU!!” Katherine pleaded to Caine in a scream.

“Do you know what my fuckin parents did after they heard the news of Peter’s suicide?” Caine asked, but went on before Katherine had a chance to guess. “They withdrew me from the Center’s program and brought me home. I lived with them in grief, fear, pain and misery, for a year while they tried to ‘cure’ me their own way. Their method consisted of , quite literally, beating the ‘Holy Scriptures’ into me. My Father would beat me at least three times a day and more if he saw any symptoms of homosexuality or if he caught me not reading the Bible for the mandatory 14 hours a day.”

I hated them and I hated myself. I wanted to die but never had the guts to take my own life. I guess I hoped that my Father would just accidentally kill me one day in one of the daily beatings.”

Caine looked into Katherine’s tear glazed eyes and wished that he could just get lost in them. Drown in their lost innocence and naïve idealism. But he knew that if he really wanted to ever be able to love Katherine as he should be loved then he must face reality. No matter how shitty reality is. “When I was 15 they realized that nothing they did made me any less of a ‘perverted faggot’ so they disowned me. My own parents thought I was too perverse to belong to their family. Rejected. Anyway, I lived out the remainder of my ‘childhood’ in some crapass little orphanage run by…yep you guessed it…another Christian collection of homophobes. Only this time they were Catholic, not that it made much of a difference. Life sucked there, the only bright spot was a boy my age, named Mario. He was the only other gay boy there so almost by default we became friends and lovers. I grew up, I turned 18, got a scholarship to University of Texas. Majored in history, wrote a couple of award winning novels, and the rest is shit you mostly know already. Caine finished and went limp in Katherine’s arms, allowing his body to slid downwards so he was now laying with his back up and his head in Katherine’s lap. “I don’t know what else to do but cry but I don’t think crying does anything so I’ll compromise. I’ll just lay here while you hold and comfort me and cry myself to sleep. Is that o…o..ok…o…fuck.” Caine gave up trying to talk and just sobbed violently into Katherine’s lap.

“It’s okay Caine. I won’t leave you. I’ll take care of you. I promise. I love you. “ Katherine said, wrapping his arms around Caine’s head and kissing his hair.

“I…I…” Caine struggled to get his sentence out through his moans of agony. “I lu…luv…love you. I…I…I’ll…help you…too. Pro..prom…promise.” he said between his cries.

Katherine frowned in response to Caine’s last remark, dreading the shame he would feel when telling Caine his nightmare of a life. Shame and pain. He hated them. But for now he would not think of himself. He would concentrate on Caine. He would try his best to take away Caine’s pain. He hugged Caine tighter to him, and wept right along with him, his tears soaking Caine’s coal black hair. After a while Caine had cried himself to sleep in Katherine’s lap, but Katherine remained awake. If anyone were to observe him then he would look, to all the world, like a man who is starved and has been given a tiny loaf of bread. It is no much, but is hope. Caine was his bread, his hope, and he would not let him go without a fight.
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