Two White Horses and a Lie

2010-04-30T14:35:00.000+01:00

Apparently the Police are searching David across his State. But as he has a history of running away I’m sure it’s more out of duty than anything else. David told me that once he was gone for almost two months. God, two months! My head is swimming after just 72 hours with this kid... come 8 weeks I’d be an absolute train wreck. I’ve already begun having thoughts of not letting him go, doing something that would be irreversible... I just don’t think I can give this one up.

David hasn’t fucked me since that first night. He’s wanted to, and I’ve wanted it even more, but for once in this life I managed to control myself... to protect myself. Instead I have taken on the skin of his past abusers and fuck him with horrendous violence put in each thrust. It’s like hurting him to tell him “I love you!” Trying to make him feel the pain of my involvement. After sex, if that’s what it is, he lays stomach down on the bed with his arsehole swollen and open like a toothless mouth. It can take anywhere up to 4 hours before it finally deflates and he is able to turn over. In that time he just quietly reads his comics. He must be in absolute discomfort but he never says a word, just laughs now and again then grimaces as his joy inadvertantly makes his butt mucles clench. My aim is to hurt him enough with my passion so I will not have to have him hurt me with his. It’s a very, very fine line I am walking.

But it’s not all like that... that is a very small part of the story. For the most part we sit together and watch things. David teaches me about his world and I teach him about mine. In those hours we are worlds away.

2010-04-25T22:11:00.000+01:00

He acted different after that. I found us a cheap hotel and I asked him where he was trying to go and he just said 'i dunno' and now we're sitting on separate beds, he stole one of my beers and drank half the fucking vodka but he isnt acting even buzzed.

'Mister?'
'Yeah?'
'Can you be my babysitter?'
'Huh?'
'Just go with it, gimme a bath and get me drunk.'

So I say okay and fuck he's so skinny but his cock is like huge so I can't help but play with it.
'I'm gonna.'
'It's okay.'
Fuck almost put my eye out he shot so big. And now he's all smiles and shit and I get him into his Spongebob PJ's and he's making me watch cartoons but I can't get his cock out of my head. So I've got my hand down his PJ's and he's hard again.
'Can we stop playing?' I ask.
'Why? You aren't having fun?'
'Yeah, I am, just...'
He giggles and stuffs a Starburst in his mouth and I take a moment to share it, just taste him and his candy.
'I want you to fuck me,' I say, and fuck I can't believe I just said that.
'Really? All the others just wanted to fuck me which is okay but I've never done that.'
And fuck I'm really losing control here cos he's just so perfect and I say yeah and put the lube on him, not gonna use a condom, hell, no one has fucked me since I was twelve. He seems to know what he's doing, thank fuck he's gentle cos that thing is huge and fuck this might be such a bad idea cos I think I'm actually falling for him, he's fucking me but so gentle it's like he cares and I just drop the words which makes him stop for a minute.
'Just cuz I'm good?'

And no, it isn't that, fuck he broke something in me that prolly should have been broken years back. Which totally sucks as of course we can never really be together, he's porlly 15 if that but he's actually kissing me.
'Did you cum?' he asks and I'm like no but that's okay.He could do this for two days straight and I wouldn't have to, it just feels so safe.
'I came in you a couple times, mister, I'm sorry.'
'It's okay, I wanted you to.'
He pulls and starts to jerk me off but I don't want it, not yet, he's completely messed me up now. He steals a cig and is smoking on the edge of the bed so I give him a beer and ask what's up but I know what it is, two people who thought they didn't need anyone just found out they did. He's crying so I brush his tears off and just kiss him, fuck, David, you just did that cos you care?
We sleep together, naked, and he flops on top of me and holds me and fuck I don't know what to think cos I gotta admit this feels too nice to give up.

2010-04-25T21:25:00.001+01:00

No, I wasn't wrong and in such cases I very rarely am. This boy had the cock of a God. I watched it rise and bulge and on it's own accord seemed to open the zipper and spring out. And he lay there like that. Slouched back and smoking with his cock standing in the wind. And just like that we drove north.

Now big cocks are fine... huge cocks even better. But there is something always and ultimately disappointing when you find one. It happened that the 11 inches that I wanked and sucked off for 3 hours were backed up by a pair of hideously tiny balls. Really. By the time I had yanked this kids pants down he somehow looked abnormal... like an adult baby. I think he was aware of it too... that's how he'd mastered that trick with the zipper.

I felt myself getting angry, that kind of rage that one knows cannot be tamed or counted away. I was either gonna kill this boy or we were gonna have incredible sex... both are pretty much the same thing. Billy saw my eyes and I saw his. He was petrified and suddenly realised he didn't know where the fuck he was. I think at one point he thought about jumping out the moving car. At a kind of loss as what to do he grabbed my hand and pulled it towards his cock. As he fingered his arse I think he was praying for incredible sex...

2010-04-25T16:07:00.001+01:00

what have I done?
like mum used to always say, david, what have you done?
He didn't want more than an ice and yeah he was curious so I let myself get out of control. And he smiled the whole time but then he came and the regret just started so fast I lost it and I knew no one could find out or talk about this.
Every camera, every person that might tell, I took care of, not so ashamed of the pimply kid at the desk but I am for the boy. To be that perfect, that fragile again...it must be nice. Now I gotta be quiet, go up north as they're for sure gonna connect the dots and figure it's me.
Maybe I can go back to mum's cabin. I miss those days sun and the pond and my best friend well my only one, he was like ten years older but he taught me to work on cars and taught me to fish since I had no dad he was it. And all he wanted was sleepovers where he took down my briefs and played a bit. I wish life could have always been like that, me in the sun so warm with him and he was so sweet to me, I was an annoying kid but he put up with me.
He only yelled at me once and that was when he caught me smoking. I was twelve and he started to take it away.
'Those will kill you. Do you want to die?' he said.
And I said yeah, I do, if I could only spend forever with you like this and he let me keep it and took one off of me. He stuck his hand down my jeans and I felt guilty a bit but it felt good so I just closed my eyes.
'Do you like this?' he asked and I said yeah. This was a life I wanted, you know, just hang out, fish a bit and get jerked off so much my dick started to hurt. Nothing scary in that. Sometimes he took me to his cabin and made me a burger with extra cheese like I liked so I got naked for him and we curled up and watched TV. No one can understand our relationship I guess, it was cool though.
Fuck, I'm so mad at myself for killing him. It's time, David, it's fucking time to just be yourself.
I hotwire a Mustang and it's so fucking early on a Sunday its owner is prolly passed out and so hungover after he wakes he won't notice for hours. And there's a boy who takes to my new car, he's just beautiful too, long black hair and green eyes and a big goofy smile when he hops in and fuck either those jeans are a size too small or he's several sizes bigger there than usual.
I come right out and tell him the car is jacked, and he says cool and lights himself a cig and just like when I was a kid I'm the one telling him those things will kill him, but he has a better answer, 'fuck it.' And I swear I won't hurt this one, we just need to stay under the radar, he knows what I want and he's cool with it so I fucking swear I won't hurt him, he's just too perfect to damage any more.

2010-04-25T04:15:00.000+01:00

What needs to be understod here is that I'm not a bad person. I am not sick and I am not twisted. I am a good man... an honest man... a kind man. I have fantasies and desires and god knows where they come from. I certainly never paid for them. Everyone can understand that.

And just like you, most the time i can resist temptation... I can find anti-climax in other ways. But it arrives, and it always arrives, where relief cannot be sought wanking and growling over uploaded videos or imagination. There comes a time when flesh must touch flesh, where meat must eat meat. But all that means is: I could have been You.

There is blood and shit on my middle finger, thumb and cock. A young body, seven if a day, lays like a shorn lamb on the floor. If he were breathing he would also be crying, but he is silent. I feel kind of embarrassed, sick now. The moment the come shoot from my dick all desire deflated. I was left with nothing but a mess. There is no doubt I am a sad man, but I am certainly not bad.

2010-04-11T12:40:00.000+01:00

They have their names for me and I let them keep them. I'm not particular. So wise they are none noticed when he broke my teeth I spit them into my palm and now it's down to just one guard, the one who kicked me and left me in here in cuffs. I pick the lock with a bit of broken tooth and the fucks who beat on me are standing well back since the biggest ass all is strugglling and failing to get out of my chokehold, funny how that knee just fails to give and now he's foaming and spitting. Okay, be nice, I say to myself so just a quick shift and snap it's all over. But not for this Guard Hainey, I get him here and he doesn't even see it, slam that broken tooth right into his neck and he's fucked but it's not gonna be fast, not even close, he can't even fight back he's so busy trying to stop the blood from spurting but I mostly got it right so not much chnnce there. I rip his cheap polyster blues down and even though the cage is open wide none is going is going to resist a chance so he's bleeding out and getting raped all at once. Now that's justice.

I'm out and it tastes of salt in the air so it must be sea. There's a boy who notices me, well I stole the uniform so he thinks I'm a cop, lets me buy him an ice and he's bouncing on my lap so much I gotta find a room soon.
'It's such a nice day, mister, isn't it?'
'Yeah, such a nice day.'
I rest my hand on his lap, just close enough for now, daring right out in the open to touch a bit.
Fuck, I gotta finda a room fast since he doesn't seem to care.

2010-04-11T08:32:00.001+01:00

It was one of those wild summer days where you look up at the sky and smell the sea. The world seemed to have transcended to a place beyond peace. "It can never be better than this!" thought Kyle. And then the van stopped, scrunched gravel and then stopped again. They led him out still in handcuffs and prison slacks and pushed him quickly inside. "Kyle Bridges. Funeral Release." Said a fatigued guard scratching his neck under the collar.
"Good service?" Asked another
"Ain't they all?" said Kyle "Can't wait for mine."
And then they stripped him down... Violated him with a search... Led him to his cell... And as one held and twisted his arms behind his back another placed a pillow over his face and started pounding away. When he fell to his knees (or rather was lowered to them) the pillow was placed around his ribs and black shiny boots started kicking in the bones.
"Sick paedo cunt!" KICK
"Cunt!" KICK
"Faggot fuck!" KICK
"Not so fucking clever now, hey, paedo!" KICK, KICK, KICK.
During this hideous and frenzied thrashing Kyle succombed to The Blackout and his last thought before leaving for another hell was: "It can never be better than this!"

2010-04-08T07:06:00.001+01:00

The tragedy of "gone" is that it is in the past and for those which are left, nothing can ever be further away than that. And that is what Kyle thought as he stood listening to the sermon, the priest's words as grave and as deep as the hole that the body was lowered into. The future may be bleak, but it is not hopeless... and then he wiped his eyes, regained control of his facial muscles and tried to forget that Johnny had ever really existed at all.

2010-04-05T01:28:00.000+01:00

The tragedy of "loved" is that it is in the past and for the heartbroken and estranged lover nothing could ever be further away than that. And that is what Johnny thought as he stood on the bridge dropping tears into the river. The future may be bleak, but it is not hopeless... and then his body hit the water and like a piece of driftwood he was gone.

2009-09-27T10:00:00.000+01:00

It's dawn and Sam doesn't know what woke him.
Stumble around grab a sip of the awful wine and find the door.
Jake crashes onto him and he slips cos there's blood everywhere. He looks around and all he sees is those eyes so scared and fuck they're going to black.
'I loved you,' he says.

2009-09-26T14:41:00.002+01:00

Dawn comes earlier to Sam than Jake who is still asleep beside the fire they had made away from the wrecked Honda.
Sam's going through the boot, tools, tow rope, gas in a container, tubing, some old clothes.
He takes the tubing and attaches it to the exhaust pipe, he opens the driver side door, shuts it quietly and places the clothes along the frame, key into ignition, turns, engine fires and the exhaust odour starts to fill the car.
He sits back and shuts his eyes.
Words, a word really runs through his mind, over and over;
loser
loser
loser
loser
loser
loser
loser
los er
lo s er
l o se r
loooo ssss e rrrrr

abyssal love.

2009-09-25T23:25:00.000+01:00

He gets that he's not supposed to know where he is, their strategies, all the bullshit. But this is just plain torture cos the fat guard who's popped several buttons off the bottom of his shirt is trying to stuff his face with a sandwich that smells like a homeless man's armpits and acting like he's having sex with it, it's spilling out of his half-closed mouth. And he's been noticing the security, well the lack of it, they leave the doors open half the time and this one of those times so he ambles out.
'Is Sydney coming to pick us up?'
And the guard doesn't it even bother to swallow, just opens his mouth wider so food is falling out and it sounds like he says 'whos Sydney' and Sam asks where Jake is and the guard says 'two doors down on-' before he realizes he wasn't supposed to.
It's well past three AM and the place is dead quiet until this cos Sam just loses it, he picks up the metal chair next to the man like a box of tissues and slams it down on him so hard he doesn't even have time to drop his sandwich, there's just a squish and a crack and he's gone in a pool of blood. He waits a second, half expecting the room to fill with guards or something, but there's none. It's a derelict military hospital anyone who was halfway good at their job would never wind up in.
Now he's thinking fast cos two doors only means one direction and he grabs one of the twenty packets of catsup the man took with his sandwich but never used and he finds the door and there he is, all scrunched up on the floor, not even on the bed, and he looks up and says 'Sam?'
And he looks so scared and rushes into Sam's arms and Sam holds him for just a minute cos he has to make it clear what's next is going to be real bad and he knows once he does that then he'll be fine.
Door.
Key one, key two...key ten.
Startled orderly with the injections they make them take.
Jake smashes his face like a pinata. Sick crunch, body drops, syringes everywhere.
Now the exit is in sight.
Stuff catsup into Jake's mouth.
Guard looks surprised cos Jake is coughing up red everywhere, doesn't even put his hand on the gun.
He's really sick officer they said we need a real hospital.
Panicked guard drops his guard.
Empty syringe to the neck, twitch, twitch, one more down.
Take gun, find keys. Honda.
Parking lot. Honda, Honda, Honda, where the fuck is it, oh there.
Crash gates. Guard was asleep so he probably never even saw.
Countryside, trees, bats, night and distance and safety and watch the Honda sail off into the dark of the sea below.
Alone again and safe, off the road, staring at the sky for the first time in weeks and now breathing the cool night air tinged with the scent of some strange flower.
Tastes like death but everything does now as long as they're together it's okay. See boats, small fishing village where no one thinks to lock things up or register them, sirens way in distance, time to go, run for it, pick a boat, any boat, go to sea and never see people again and burn and destroy anyone and anything that stands in the way of that dream, even if die trying, die together in each other's arms.
Forget it with wild sex and really awful wine that tastes like a diabetic old man's feet but does the job, cum, fuck, kiss, love all of it is just them and the open sea and the stars and disappearing from everyone and everything forever whatever that ends up meaning.
He ruffles Jake's hair while he sleeps and kisses him. Dawn comes soon, they will take stock of what they have to defend themselves if they need to and never see another rotting city again but make their own instead.

Fucked by North West.

2009-09-23T12:49:00.002+01:00

so this is it, is it, thinks Sam
Our position
Place, fucking unknown, no one will say anything.
Army, UN I think, loads of different languages spoken.
Jake, in some room, they say hospital wing, I don't know, it's just what they say.
Me, what is this a cell?
Concrete, 12X10
Bed, mattress, duvet, washbasin, bog.
Me.
Light...dim
A little hatch in the door to look through, when I do it's a corridor, another wall, concrete. No one around I can see. Door metal, locked, trapped.
Last I saw of Jake was when we landed and a load of soldiers rushed the 'copter, bending under the slowing blades, doors slide open, four soldiers climb up, push my head down, hood it, arms pulled behind my back, head pushed forward, marched forward, down a ramp, air, warm, a breeze, inside, echoes, empty maybe, voices, Italian maybe, Spanish..hmm and German or was it Dutch, maybe Finnish or Danish dunno.
Then into this room I guess, hood off, eyes adjusting to the light as the last exits the room, his back, green uniform, is that?
Our current fucking position. North by Fucked North-West.
I shut my eyes and conjure a mental image of a razor blade, still wrapped in waxy paper cover, I pull up my sleeve, cletch my fist, veins raise, I unwrap the blade, run my arm under hot water, soften the cutting surface, dry, hot arm, drag blade up, always cut up the arm, up, opening the vein, spilling the blood, it runs, down, hits the floor, I watch as it spills, there's no cell, no danger, no Jake, no love there's just death facing me and that's all good.

2009-09-03T07:48:00.000+01:00

It's dawn.
Their host, pulling them up, saying things in a quiet yell that Sam can't understand.
'Saved'
And that he understands.
Rush.
Backpacks, get the backpacks, wake up, Jake, wake the fuck up.
More hands.
They're speaking German.
It's not even light out yet.
They push hard but its not angry it's scared.
Flop-flop-flop helicopter.
Men with machine guns. Opposite sides, easy to tell, neither one wants to get the other angry.
Schnell, schnell.
Grabbing them rough hands and all he can do is make sure Jake is right there.
Gunshot.
Blurry.
Grab Jake makes sure he's okay look into those eyes to double-check.
Screams. Now German and Italian and something else.
More gunshots.
Man dragging them screams and giant spittoon of blood jumps from his mouth.
Other man tackles them down and yelling in Italian.
Lots of gunshots.
correrre, correre!
And Sam just gets it and pulling Jake up and there's the chopper and fuck it seems so far off.
More gunshots and Sam knocks them down cos he feels something fly past his head and Jake screams but he doesn't know why and then they're back up only a couple of meters and now this sounds like a proper war shit is bouncing off the copter and he hears people screaming in multiple languages which needs no translation cos it's obvious they're screaming for their mothers and there's blood all over them and now he notices Jake is whining and some of the blood on him doesn't belong to others and he's looking at Sam and they're lifting off but he looks scared like never before and all Sam can do is hold him and comfort him til they get clear of this so he just buries his face in his shirt and lets him cry and scream cos he got hit so it hurts and he guesses it hurts bad.
He looks like a scared puppy in Sam's arms and now Sam's gonna be sick cos the fucking copter is pitching like crazy and all thats below them is ocean blue and forever and he just looks into his eyes and doesnt try to speak cos if he opens his mouth he's gonna puke so he lets his eyes do the talking but he's scared as fuck cos most of the blood on him is Jake's and he's well soaked so rips his T-shirt and tries to wrap it where it looks like he got hit to stop he blood and Jake screams and he's getting yelled at in languages he doesn't speak so he just says 'fuck off' cos he's trying his best and he knows he has to make him stay awake he's never felt so scared, ever.

2009-08-28T15:59:00.003+01:00

It's still dark and Jake is sleeping like the dead but Sam can't, this cramped little room some local was kind enough to offer them shelter and food in, some sort of resistance person or something he guesses, cautions about never venturing out in the daylight being about the only language barrier that got across. They're in some sort of border land here, exactly which border he isn't sure, just knows the curse of him and Jake is the only one strong enough to land two gay brothers in love with each other in the worst possible situation without fail.
He had seemed like a kind man, he looked to be in his sixties but with the weariness of a person who has been at war and in wars too long, something both brothers were now beginning to understand. The man had shown them to this underground cave of a room. What his intentions were beyond that was unclear, though Sam didn't feel threatened by him at all, the man looked to be about the least likely to want a fight from anyone at this point, the sort of man who jumps at a knock on a door and keeps his life and what little is left of his dreams buried in a cloth in a hole and maybe looks at them when it's dark and not a soul is left to see him with that last spark in his hands.
He flips on the telly, quick to turn it down before it wakes Jake. Though at this point he doubts a mortar shell on top of them would wake the boy up. Jake looks like he's aged five years in the past few weeks and this just makes Sam feel so sad. He brushes his hair which gets a grunt in the boys sleep and a passing smile from a familiar touch.
Only three channels and BBC World is fading in and out, the only one he can understand. Sam lights a cigarette, coughing, fuck these cigarettes are strong, and promptly drops it in his lap because he's looking at a photograph of himself on television.
'What the-' he hisses, and this wakes Jake up, rubbing the sleep out his eyes. Yes, there they are, both their photos, then Jeremi, and then there's the anchor.
'This afternoon, Royal Navy vessels operating in the Mediterranean were fired upon by Libyan gunboats. They returned fire, sinking the Libyan vessels, which has caused an international row. Yet more disturbing is the recovery of wreckage belonging to three boys, two of the British nationals on your screen, believed abducted in France. With the military engagement and now the discovery of this wreckage just off the coast of Libya, both the Royal Navy and French National Navy have begun moving additional resources into the Mediterranean. Already BBC has learned that UK authorities are now investigating a number of unsolved abductions of British nationals aged 15-20 in France, previously believed to be unrelated to one another. The Prime Minister has also taken the extraordinary step of issuing a strong warning to the Libyan government.'
'What the-' says Jake, sitting up now, grabbing his own cigarette.
And then there's something Sam never thought in a million years he'd hear, but just did, there's the Prime Minister saying his name, Jake's name, and he never particularly cared for the man but there's something very comforting about hearing a man with a Navy threatening anyone who tries to hurt you with the full power of that Navy and whatever else it takes.
The story rambles on to mention both Italian and Spanish military forces are joining in the cooperation.
'Oh, god,' mumbles Jake. 'Did we just start world war three?'
But now this could go any number of ways, he knows, cos if it's Libyan cops that find them the last thing they're going to want is for anyone to see them on Libyan soil. Of course there are other sorts operating round here that will simply see them as a fat paycheck. And as for their host...who knew. He didn't seem the type to consort with either of those two and definitely not the sort who wanted any attention. They were just a couple of kilometers from the coast but those had already proven to the longest two kilometers in existence.
'What are we going to do?' asks Sam, cos Jake will know, Jake always knows, right?
And Jake just looks at Sam with a look that says everything, he's worn out from figuring out 'what to do' and probably thinking every time he does figure it out things always go from bad to worse. The boy just lays back and takes a drag of his cigarette, and now Sam hears it, Jake's crying quietly, scared, but at least not alone he needs to let him know. So he just holds him and now he's really crying , curls up into a ball like he just wants to disappear into Sam, and Sam can't tell him it'll be okay cos he's not gonna lie to him, he honestly doesn't know anymore, just hopes that this all comes to an end that means they can stop running forever, yes, that'd be nice, the cottage, just them, Jake smiling at Sam over a bowl of hot oatmeal with extra raisins and sugar on top just like likes...

Now What

2009-08-28T14:47:00.001+01:00

Both boys are laying on the bed, covers unruffled, no energy for sex, no energy for discussion even, having seen their boat go under the wake of the navel boat pretty much at the same time they had jumped off it, both are too adrenaline low to speak, swimming ashore and getting through the locals who had gathered on the quayside to see the event had been difficult enough and then running through the narrow streets where traders and tourists stared, no doubt remembering every detail should they be asked by anyone latter, the traders hoping that maybe the information might be worth some money to someone, everyone runs for a reason and sometimes that reasons worth money, the tourists, well it will be something to tell friends back home but for both boys, the swim the run had been adrenaline fuelled and now they lay just numb. Jake just glad that they had got out of that one intact, he can feel his heart smiling on the inside, emanating out, just glad he and his brother are safe, safe to live and love again, for another day at lease. Sam is all dark, thinking, why wasn’t that it, the end, the end of both of them, would it, could it, improve from the high of the last few days when he and Jake had discovered a deep physical love for each other, a love that had been tough, tender, raw and beautiful, Sam just thinks now what is there, why wasn’t that the end of both of them, he would at least have died happy but he hadn’t died and what now, he didn’t have a clue.
Fed up thinking Sam turns on the TV and the newscasters carrying the story of Madonna being battered to death by some kid she adopted ’;stupid fucking cow’ he thinks and kills the TV, now what.

2009-08-26T17:55:00.004+01:00

dreams, that's all it is just dreams, and now sam is wondering what if, what if he reached into his jeans or ducked under the gunwales and wonders what if, they thought they were going to attack the gunboat and just maybe that's best cos...and he imagines it like it almost makes him cum the thought of the 50mm gun shredding their tiny universe to pieces and jake getting hit first cos sam is ducking and he almost disintegrates only the important bits are left to love but they're dying and now the bullets are shredding into him too and like in life they become one just a shredded pile of pulp and bone mixed in with the sawdust on the deck as their boat capsizes and there's nothing left to save except the last long look between them in this world just his blue eyes and the fear that maybe there is no next one just its all gone and maybe this is how it always was going to be and maybe they get one last kiss before it all expires and maybe they cum so the blood and shredded bone gets mixed up with it a bit just its them...together forever.

But Jake got fucked up on his directions cos now they see the flag on the gunboat isn't Spain or Britain its just straight green.
'What the fuck is that??' asks Sam cos now he's getting really freaked.
And Jake's just well shaking here cos this wasn't supposed to go so bad but then when has it ever not gone bad and he double checks his co-ords and then realizes they yanked the GPS and now he's got a book open with all kinds of flags and he just says 'fuck.'
'Fuck? What the fuck does that mean?'
'It means fuck. Like really, fuck.'
'What flag is that? Where the fuck are we?'
'It's Libya.'
And now the option of being gunned to pieces really sounds like the safest bet and they're getting closer and Sam's like 'What now?'
'What now?'
'Ya, what now?'
'We're absolutely fucked'
And Jake is spinning the sail to try and run but this won't get them far enough, there's not enough wind in the sails to outrun the gunboat, it would take a cyclone. And fuck Jake is swearing cos he coulda sworn they were heading northwest not southeast but people tend to go in circles when they're lost and especially if they're relying on an unplugged GPS.
And there's shouting over them in Arabic and now they have to hide what's between them forever and fuck.
'C'mon, fuck' yells Jake but then there's the proverbial shooting over the bow which cuts the sail in half and now they're just dead in the water. Like always things just went from bad to absolute worst.

Fucked Philipino's

2009-08-26T15:29:00.003+01:00

as the boys stand, arms out wide, the sign of no problems man, across the ocean they were now being taken from by the British Navy, gay icon and thoroughly modern wonder Madonna was getting her head trashed from the kid she had so nicely, so kindly, so wonderfully, so caringly, bought for enough money to equip the kids country with good schools, meaning he and kids like him need ever be parted from their parents ever again, well at that very moment the kid was whacking her over the head with a designer, ten thousand dollar remote control car. Blood was starting to show through that oh so fucking nasty perm that for some weird reason she thought was cool, and as he hit her she called for help, but she still hadn't got out of the habit of affecting an English accent, a hangover from her marriage to that mockney wanker and failed film director, Guy Ritchie, you know the one, him who stumbled across a good first film, then, the second was all 'ohh Brad Pitt's accents so wonderful', no it fucking isn't twats, I live here and no one speaks like that stupid, he's just a stupid stupid American actor who thinks his shit don't stink. So anyway Madge is getting her head kicked bad and she's all 'Oh No Don't You Know You Must Not Treat Mummy This Way. You can't do that to Mummy and the kids like totally a flipped Philipino and is beating the shit outta her head bad and Madgee is all Oh don't do this to Mummy and he's now got the back of her head and is slamming it into the marble floor and her bloods spattering and dripping all over the Egyptian marble flooring and the flipped Philipino kid is screaming at the top of his voice, wheres my fucking dad bitch. and as dear gay icon and child buyer Madge is blacking out the British Navy board Sam and Jake's boat.

2009-08-24T19:55:00.002+01:00

The tall man doesn't really like being here. He's afraid he might get unwanted attention, especially because for some peculiar reason it seems like he's the tallest person in the room, and he scans around a bit but no police in sight.
Ilias, you're so foolish, he thought, very foolish to be in a bus station and armed even if it was just a knife, foolish to try and make a case to Hasan that there was money where there was not even a shred of proof. But he was going to be boss someday and the short fat fuck whom he was trying to impress carried a pistol, an antique prize from the North African front, a shiny Luger. It was time to be more brave if he ever planned to become anything.
...
Sam feels refreshed, though he's already seen one bus and it doesn't look very air conditioned so he's wondering just how long this ride is going to be. Jake will enjoy it, though, he was always a bit crazy about history.
Though he wonders why Jake, who seemed so enthusiastic about the trip, is now seeming really edgy, scanning the crowd. And then Jake smiles and says hello to of all things a man that looks like a policeman, and he's thinking, oh shit, I hope it's not a real cop.
The man looks more like a tour operator than a real cop at least, and unlike most cops he's dealt with, seems friendly, giving Jake a pat on the head and a smile. Jake whispers something to the man and he frowns at first, then looks concerned. And now they're both scanning the crowd and Sam sees something out of place, everyone else is going about their business with little concern or attention to those around them except this one man who is unusually tall who is staring right at him. So fixed is his attention on Sam that he's not even paying attention to Jake, nor the man he's talking to in the uniform that identifies him as Brigade Touristique, the man who is now looking very concerned and whispering into a radio and there's movement at the fringes of Sam's vision. The tall man looks over and seems concerned because a short fat man a dozen meters away is being accosted by the regular police, practically swallowing up his little presence in their blue uniforms. Tall man's got a worried look on his face and quickly averts his eyes from Sam, attempting to turn and walk away but he's got his own man in blue to deal with and Sam's like wtf is Jake doing and who are these men and why the fuck can't him and Jake just have a couple of normal days?
The tall man is trying to act nonchalant, gesturing a lot, and the officer with Jake whispers something, putting himself between Jake and the man, and fuck now there's starting to be police everywhere. Jake is backing away, slowly, though neither of the two strange men are paying any attention to them now.
'What the hell is going on?' asks Sam, sweating now out of fear cos they didn't exactly sign a guest register when they entered the country. And the little matter of dead bodies.
There's a pop like a firecracker and suddenly people are screaming and another and Jake grabs Sam's arm and hisses, 'Change of plans, go, go, go!'
Another pop and they just barely make it out of the station before a wall of blue closes in behind him and the last thing Sam glimpses is tall man whipping a big knife at the guy Jake was talking to, and there's blood in the air, everyone's running and screaming and fuck they keep getting people hurt or killed everywhere they go.
Jake pulls him into an alley and bends over, throwing up, and he's crying.
'What the fuck just happened?'
'You didn't see them? The two men staring at us and gesturing?'
And, no, Sam didn't, but he's not surprised after yesterday his guard was well down, Jake never fully lets his down.
'The cop said the tall one is a suspect in tourist abductions.'
And Sam feels like throwing up himself but Jake's pulling his arm along and he's getting this awful sense that someone is following them but he's scared to see who. He doesn't know where they're going at all just blindly running, back into the shitty areas where they started, and he wonders what next and they're in the really bad part where they concealed the boat, getting strange looks from people wondering what two tourists are thinking, being in this area. His heart's about to burst from his chest cos he's sure now he hears footsteps behind them. A man sitting at a cafe drinking mint tea looks up from his newspaper and there's a split second of recognition and fuck Sam knows this man and this is all about to get really bad, Jakes uncovering the boat so he jumps to help him when there's a voice right behind them.
'Going somewhere, boys?' says a thickly accented voice which sends chills down his spine. 'I believe you've caused some trouble for my...associates. It's a matter we must to discuss.'
And Jake turns slowly, Sam doesn't want to but does, there's a man who looks homeless and here he remembers the man also, remembers thinking it was strange that this man would be ignored outside the bus station when he needed help, even remembers dropping a few Euros into his cup.
Instinctively he puts himself between Jake and the man, who's reaching into his filthy shirt and the sun is catching something metallic and glinty and oh fuck this is about to get real bad cos the only weapon between Sam and Jake is the boat knife buried at the bottom of the backpack, he remembers the master stroke of hiding it under really smelly clothes in case they got searched.
The man takes a step forward.
'Thank you for the euros, son,' he says. 'But I am quite well off, so if you need them, well, let me know. I'm sure you have someone missing you back home, where might you be from, Gibraltar? No, the accents aren't quite right. You can't be all the way from Britain?'
And Sam flinches involuntarily and the man laughs.
'Now, that is a currency I love dealing with. So much better than Euros.'
He steps forward again and Sam steps back which sends Jake into the boat with a grunt.
'Lots of ropes to undo here before you can go for your afternoon sail, aren't there?'
He has a knife out now and it's a long blade.
'Do you need help with those?' asks the man. 'A boat like this, well, she's a beautiful boat. Probably fetch a handsome reward as well.'
The blade waves, catching the sun in a blinding flash. One more step forward towards them. Sam has nowhere to go.
Suddenly the man stops and it sounds like a burp and a giant glob of red pops out of his mouth with a strange gurgle. He drops his knife and sways a bit before a black hand grabs his shoulder and yanks him back. Another gurgle and now blood is pouring from his mouth. The hand pushes him aside, right into the water with a dead splash and now Sam is looking at the man from the cafe, the man from the alley that they 'helped' the other night, a blade in his hand covered in red.
The man wipes the blade off and puts it away and Sam's knees are about to give out. But the man bows.
'I owe you boys an apology, but now we are even, no debts between us?'
'Huh?' says Sam.
'You didn't count my payment. It was short by quite a bit. I suggest you leave Morocco, and quickly. This man will be missed by some people, people who like new business opportunities.'
He gives a slight nod to Sam and Sam does the same and now Jake is pulling him into the boat and undoing ropes and shoving off like a boy possessed. Sam plops onto the deck and finally it all comes up, he's puking over the side and can barely sit up right except to look behind them, watch the corpse disappear from view, the city, all of it, and now he's crying and Jake's fumbling around below deck, sounds like he's trying to burrow a hole into the boat and there's a whirring sound with a clank and a shadow casts over him.
He looks up and there's the Union Flag flapping over them and fuck he's never felt so relieved to see it, no more of this shit, these shit places where there's nothing but death hovering overhead.
'It's only a few kilometers, okay, we have to do this, okay,' pants Jake and Sam knows he means Gibraltar, maybe dangerous to them but just maybe they will live through that kind of danger.
'Here,' says Jake and he's stuffing Sam's UK passport into his hand. 'When the boats come, no sudden moves. We were abducted in France by Jeremi and another man, and we never saw Morocco, never, okay?'
'How do we explain this?' says Sam, 'How?'
'There dozens of deserted islands in the Mediterranean. They slept, we escaped, simple is good, right, keep it simple, okay?'
'If there's so many deserted islands...' starts Sam, but he knows the answer. Everywhere they land is trouble.
'If anyone can help us now, you know as well as I it's Sydney, you know this, right?'
And Sam just nods and sure enough here come the gunships, huge cannons pointed straight at them and Jake stands up, arms out, and he does the same and wonders wtf is going to happen next.

2009-08-24T15:42:00.001+01:00

just to the right, here’ say’s Jake pointing.
‘yes, Sir, To the right, the tour bus should be there in five minutes for the Roman ruins’ and Jake turns, raises his eyebrows to Sam
‘K, five minutes, just outside’.
Sam rises from the over stuffed sofa in the lobby and looks at Jake smiling.
‘OK lets go er wait then’ he says and Jake pushes him in a playful way and both boys walk out of the revolving door and join a small queue to the right-hand side.
‘there, they have just left’ a dark tall, fit, muscular man points as the boys exit the doors and he rises with his friend, colleague, business associate, a smaller, older man with poke marks on his face. As they walk out of the lobby the smaller man says;
‘you are sure, they arrived with a French boy’
‘yes the same boy found in a trash bin’ says the taller man.
‘story’ the smaller man says.
‘I don’t know, that’s it, they arrive with a French boy, he’s found dead and these two don’t seem to unhappy about that, do they’.
‘and where is the body now’ asks the smaller man.
‘collected, gone, garbage’.
‘hmm, so blackmails difficult without a body to present to them’.
‘but there’s a story here boss, we just need to find it out’ the taller darker man is keen to hook his boss into this one, otherwise the boss gets pissed off paying wages for nothing.
‘OK, follow them, see what you can find out, they look like queer to me so be careful my friend’ and with that the smaller man laughs and walks away, mobile phone clamped to his ear.

A day without death

2009-08-23T21:07:00.003+01:00

Sam gets woken first by some yelling outside and car horns, then pushes his head under the pillow to make it go away, and it seems like ten seconds later Jake is shaking him awake.
'What the fuck time is it?' he wonders aloud and his hand is hurting something awful.
But Jake isn't paying attention, he's acting all excited and he's holding some guide or something and dragging Sam out of bed without at first realizing he's got the one they cut last night and Sam yelps.
Jake says sorry and he's going on and it's really starting to confuse Sam cos he's sounding...normal. Like a fucking tourist and a happy one at that and it makes him think back to the cottage cos he's got the book in Sam's face and showing him pictures of buildings that are, well, pink ironically, and then he's talking about taking a bus to see some Roman ruin or something.
'Who are you and what have you done with Jake?' he asks and laughs.
And Jake gets quiet and Sam looks at him and for a minute he looks down at his sneakers and damn he bought new sneakers, rip-offs of some American brand, and Sam's really starting to wonder what time it is and if he slept through a day or more somehow.
'I want us back, the way it was, even if it's only for a while,' says Jake. 'I don't want to think about death or any of that today. I want to have fun with you, fun, you remember what that was like?'
And Sam thinks Jake is about to cry or something so he says okay, okay, what do you want to do?
'Get dressed,' he says, and Sam complies, once again Jake's in charge but it does sound nice, what he's talking about.
The next thing he knows they're out in the street with all their stuff in backpacks, and he never really went out much here during the day before, it's jammed with people, strangely, he can't seem to pick a single woman out of the crowd.
And he notices at once Jake is not next to him and wonders where he went. Then he's getting dragged into some restaurant where they feed him some soup dish with meat he can't quite place and fruits and lots of other things, it's good, and they bring them tea which is a bit minty for Sam's tastes. It's the first real meal he's eaten in a long time, even though hot soup in this weather is just insanity.
And Jake drags him around it feels like the entire city, he's got a disposable camera and taking pictures of everything it seems, and the kid won't stop talking and smiling and everywhere they go people really are friendly to them, it's such an awesome change to be a tourist with his brother and not two outsiders against the world and it's actually making him feel good also. But the heat is starting to really get to him, and he complains a little and Jake looks a little disappointed cos he really wanted to make the bus trip to see the Roman ruins. Sam says he's really enjoyed himself, and he's not lying there, not even close, he feels calm and happy for the first time in it seems forever.
'Can we do it tomorrow and find a real hotel like one with a very large pool... and a very well-stocked bar?'
Jake nods then sees something behind Sam and he lights up a bit and says 'Wait here first.'
Jake's back in a few minutes with two necklaces made of dark wooden beads, they look a little cheap to be honest. But it's the thought that counts and they get a few strange looks from some men on the street when Jake insists on them putting them on one another, but fuck it's so much nicer of a way to do this, what's this world done to them that they thought of using the knife before this?
They find a nice looking place, which Sam learns is called a riad and the minute they enter it's like a whole different world, an oasis, there's a courtyard with the big pool he wanted and a bartender, it's surrounded by lemon trees. Jake has to argue to get them a room together and gets frowned at but Sam guesses he knows Jake well enough that the room price went up 200%, Jake always gets his way.
He doesn't even care about the money, he just wants to strip off his dirty clothes and take a real shower and jump into his shorts and enjoy the pool.
They're sitting there next to each other and got frowned at for sitting too close together, but it's close enough he guesses, they've been almost on top of each other everywhere they've slept for days or weeks, yet not since the cottage has he felt so close to Jake.
After the sun goes down it starts to get a little chilly so they eat something and go up to the room, two beds of course, but Jake just draws the shade, messes up his bed and then climbs in with Sam.
'Did you enjoy today,' he asks, and Sam loved it, he's going to actually sleep soundly tonight.
And it's different next cos it's not all about getting to the fuck or even close, Jake really just wants to kiss, quietly, for a long time, gently even, just tasting each other more than they probably ever have before. It's the nicest Sam's ever felt he can remember, he doesn't even realize they both came without even doing anything more than kiss each other for what must have been an hour or more. Jake won't let him stop, his tongue in his mouth, like fuck Sam is about to cum again cos this just feels so perfect, they lose track of time completely and he has no clue how many times he's cum but it's starting to hurt a bit and he's getting tired so he gently breaks it off and says he has to breathe and Jake's like 'one more time?' and before Sam can say anything he's down on him and it's like two seconds wait for so much pleasure he can't stop, filling his mouth with it, cumming like he never has before. He's almost afraid Jake will want to keep going cos he's well exhausted by now, feels like he's run across the country and back five times, but, no, he's satisfied, happy, and curling up and he just whispers that he loves Sam and Sam returns it, brushing his hair and drifting off to sleep, their breathing in sync.

Done Deal

2009-08-23T15:41:00.001+01:00

‘look Jake, it’s fucked OK, we both know that, but if it’s fucked, it’s fucked, so we just need to do what we need to do, whatever the circumstances and one day, yeah the circumstances are gonna catch up with us and then that’s the end of it, but this is not the end, here, right now, it’s just not’ and he looks at his brother and Jake at last seems to be able to take in what he’s trying to tell him, been trying to tell him for the last hour.
‘so Jake, yeah’ questions Sam.
and flimsy as this sounds Jake realises there is nothing else he can do, he knows he needs to accept this because to fight it, resist it, is to deny what’s gone on and now their strength together lies in each others trust and love that and the knowledge that they can both kill if the circumstances require it, kill to save themselves and each other.
‘deal’ say’s Jake…’sorry man, it just took me a while to catch up with you’.
‘cool’ say’s Sam and he picks up a lock knife from the table and looks at his brother
‘ready’
‘wha’ Jake’s immediately nervous because this could mean anything with Sam and he’s relieved when Sam cuts a line across his hand and watches the blood flow
‘now you Jake’ and he hands the knife to Jake and Jake does the same and then as one both boys lift their hands and join them so the blood runs between them.
‘forever together’ says Sam
‘forever together Sam smiles Jake.
‘ the killings not over you know that don’t ya’ says Sam
‘yeah I know’ says Jake and then he adds ‘so’ and looks straight into Sam’s eyes and Sam can see the bond made, the deals done, there is no doubt between them now, just trust and love, murder and death.

2009-08-22T17:15:00.000+01:00

At the same time, tho, they both know that something has changed forever...and Sam can't get that sickening feeling that they were stupid to ever think that this would go any other way from the start, or maybe just desperately hoping against hope it didn't have to.
And maybe now it was too fucked up to ever totally fix, forever they would be walking around with angry ghosts chasing them, how many neither of them was sure, five, ten, maybe more? Some like Sydney had asked for it, just maybe, but for some there was no denying that the only thing they ever did was cross paths with them at the wrong time, and maybe this was Sam's fault cos Jake was always a bit dangerous. He'd made the boy desperate, how own brother, damaged him some way cos he trusted Sam like no one else, and where would this end, cos he remembers still giving him too many Xannys that one time and wonders if Jake's ever started down that road with him.
That trust didn't scare Sam so bad cos he felt like this would end badly, maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but it probably would, and he hoped if he died it would be by Jake's hand and not some random stupid event. Sometimes when he was off by himself he fantasized about that moment, fantasized cos it seemed like only way the two of them could be together in peace forever.

RE-Entry

2009-08-21T12:23:00.001+01:00

Ten hours of sitting in almost total silence, disbelieving, the two boys understand that they must re-emerge into the world, leave this behind them, but is it so easy?
Sam stands and walks over to his brother who is sitting on the coach, Sam sits beside him and lays his head on the younger brothers shoulder.
‘hey’ says Sam
‘hey back’ says Jake
‘Hey, hey’
‘hey’ says Jake with almost a laugh
‘hey, hey, hey, hey ,hey’ say’s Sam laughing now,……..’come on Jake, it’s over’
‘yeah, I know’
‘let’s just leave it behind now yeah’
and Jake strokes Sam’s hair, gently
‘yeah let’s leave it now’.
and so relieved is Sam to hear this that he lifts his head and kisses his brother and in kissing him, its as if they are back at the cottage, experiencing that first kiss, that first touch and in re-experiencing that both boys re-emerge into the world.

dark streets.

2009-08-21T00:55:00.002+01:00

Jake is well shocked and Sam can't really blame him but he was coming between them and he couldn't let that happen, and they're dumping Jeremi along with the huge pile of garbage when they got caught. It's a man as black as pitch and when he talks you need a shower cos it oozes and he just says one word: '5,000.'
And Sam's like fuck it's a payoff for the man to not mention the dead boy between them but no, its not.
The man has a photo and he's talking about his sister getting 'dishonored' whatever that means and before Sam can say shit before Jake says '7,500' and this is really out of control cos all Sam can do is make sure Jake doesn't get hurt like he's in disbelief cos the guy in the pic is a Brit tourist and just wants something to fuck, doesn't really matter so much if its a boy or girl and Jake plays it, like acting drunk and asking to get walked home and Sam follows a short distance back and then the African dude cuts him off and Sam gives him the keys and just follows. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to see what's gonna happen just he damn well needs to be sure Jake is okay and he grabs the African guy by the arm to tell him if he hurts him he's dead and the guy just laughs.
'your friend will be fine.'
And it's really fucked up next cos he lets the fat man get into it, sweat pouring off his body and he's grunting like that only makes Sam think of one thing and then fuck the African dude's got the biggest knife he's ever seen and it just goes right through him like butter and this is all fucked cos he was inside Jake and Jake's not stopping cos he's still useful for a few minutes and the man just hands Sam an envelope sprouting cash and Jake cums and he says something about just in time and Sam goes and pukes all over the bathroom..

I'm ready for my close up now Mr De'Milne.

2009-08-20T13:34:00.002+01:00

ah, just fucking genius Sam, just genius’ Jake is just so angry with his brother Sam, Jeremi’s almost pushing himself into the wall, so does he not want to be involved in this row.
‘just see’ says Sam, ‘just see OK’
‘see what fuckhead, see you went out three hours ago with all our money and you come back with some admittedly good shit and some other stuff we have yet to see in your bag, what is that shirt anyway’
‘later, patience, dear brother OK, all in good time, now have another hit and stop stressing’. and Sam passes him the fat, fat blunt he has rolled from a baggie that seems so big, it would impossible to smoke the contents in this lifetime.
Jake takes a hit
‘it’s good yeah’ says Sam laughing and Jake passes him the blunt, but he palms it straight over to Jeremi, kill it man’ says Sam and Jeremi finishes it with a relish. Jake notices this and realises that Sam has been doing this for an hour solid now, passing the vast amount of the stuff onto Jeremi, whilst taking very little himself.
As Jeremi stubs the blunt out in the ashtray, Sam moves beside him on the sofa and starts to kiss him on the mouth, deep and as he kisses him he moves his hands to Jeremi’s jeans and massages his cock through the material and in no time under Sam’s guiding hand he’s hard as a rock and panting.
‘does Jeremi want more’ Sam says in a baby voice.
Jeremi whose past the point of a laughing this one off says ‘yeah, course’
And Sam stands and goes to his bag and pulls out a video recorder and tosses it to Jake who catches it and Sam starts to pull his clothes off.
‘come on then , lets party and party fucking hard Jeremi’ Sam says laughing and as he’s saying that Jeremi’s already pulling his tee over his head and then his jeans and shorts are down and off and he’s standing there so hard, so horney.
‘ah, nice’ says Sam. ‘you ready bro, with the camera’ and Jake just shrugs cos he’s never seen Sam this alive, so focused on anything, so he figures as bad as he might feel watching and filming this, he better jump on the idea fast.
‘yeah ready’ says Jake
And Sam pushes Jeremi onto his knees onto the floor so that his ass is pointed in the air and he pulls his bag closer and then inserts two and then three fingers roughly into Jerami’s ass.
‘fuck man’ says Jeremi
‘shut the fuck up bitch’ shouts Sam as he pounds Jeremi’s ass with almost his whole hand inside the boys ass.
‘fuck man, fuck, careful’
And that brings a swift response from Sam who pulls Jeremi’s hair back hard so that his head is forced back.
And Jake gets on the idea cos this is like new and horny, so he starts to engage with the idea of filming the two together.
‘want me to fuck you’ Sam say’s to Jeremi.
‘fuck yeah’ says Jeremi pushing his ass onto Sam’s hand.
And Sam withdraws his hand from Jeremi’s ass and moves on his knees closer to Jeremi and positions his cock at the boys asshole
‘ready bitch’ say’s Sam
‘fuck me man, fuck me’ say’s Jeremi and Sam pushes his cock into Jeremi and starts to fuck him rough and hard and fast and Jeremi’s screaming in a kind of fuck this hurts but don’t stop yet kiinda way and Sam’s stomach and balls are banging against Jeremy’s ass and you can hear the loud slapping clearly and then Sam grabs Jeremi’s balls and squeezes em really hard,
‘get that Jake get the balls man’
And Jake moves position and focuses on a mangled set of balls being worked hard by Sam’s hand
‘fuck you cunt’ shouts Jeremi and Sam just pulls his hair back harder and fucks him in short fast stabs and reaches and grabs Jeremi’s cock and jerks it hard.
‘I’m gonna cum’ shouts Jeremi
‘do it man, do it, cum’ screams Sam back at him
‘Jake get a long shot from his head down to me, make sure all of him is in frame OK'
And Jake moves to get the shot Sam has directed him to do.
Two boys on their knees one fucking the other’s brains out as if his life depends on it.
‘now come ya cunt, cum‘, shouts Sam,’cum now asshole’
‘yeah, yeah, ah, yeah’ and Jeremi’s there, he needs the release, he needs to shoot this load so bad.
And Sam can feels Jeremi’s cock squirting his load and as he cums Sam takes a lock knife from his bag and pulls it across Jeremi’s throat and he feels the warm blood flood over his hand.
And Jake drops the camera as he see’s the blood running,
‘fucking pick it up and film Jake’….Jake…pick up the camera… film…come on’
And Jake relieved to have another set of thoughts in his head does as Sam has told him
‘close up Jake on my cock and his ass, come on’ and Sam has to shout this louud tto Jake becausee Jeremi's make a loud griggling sound through the slash in his throat.
And Jake repositions so he can see Sam’s cock fucking the twitching, dying boys asshole and Sam withdraws his cock and shoots his thick, large load over Jeremi’s ass and the then he turns the boy over onto his back and grabs the camera from Jake and films Jeremi’s death, which takes about two minutes of blood flow and twitching and then it’s all over.
‘one more long shot, pan the body’ says Sam and he moves the camera as he has just directed himself, then he shuts the camera off, stands and looks at a pale shocked Jake.
‘dude what do you know, we got ourselves a real life snuff movie, should be worth a mint yeah’ and he throws the camera onto the couch and walks through to the shower.

morocco

2009-08-19T17:59:00.003+01:00

It's just hot and sleazy is the only way to describe it. The people all get on the roof at night for prayer and fuck shortly after and no one asked shit when they flashed the Euros just suddenly they have a room, no questions.
And Jake is boiling like so mad and Sam is almost scared to speak when he finally hisses in his ear it's, 'ok, i lied, my ass is for sale, and do you know why?'
And Sam just shakes his head, no, like wtf.
'Cos he never fucked me, but now he's gonna be the first and you're gonna watch.'
And Sam almost pukes right there but Jake is in charge like usual and he's looking at Jeremi and the kid looks uncertain but Sam just nods like whatever, it's Jake, no point in disagreeing, and he finds the cheap liquor and takes a big gulp and its turning him on in a fucked up kind of way to see them naked in bed together.
And they're just making out atm and Sam grabs Jeremi's dick and just massages it to get it just a bit harder before a little spit and he lets him push a bit and plays with Jake's so it won't hurt so much and then it's in and Jake has to tell Sam to stop cos he's gonna cum too quick but fuck that Sam just sucks harder and he shoots all warm and salty in Sam's mouth, but Jeremi's not ready yet and Jake tries to wriggle out but Sam won't let him, no, if he's gonna pay rent like this he better get used to it, and it's kinda hot to see Jake like this cos it's gonna make him cum again whether he wants to or not, Jeremi's got a big one.
Sam's hard too and he slips off the rip-off Nike sweats he bought and starts to fuck Jeremi, he has to go slow cos the kid is so tight and he bitches a little but he wants it.
'Play with him some,' instructs Sam.
And Jeremi starts grabbing Jake's soft dick and that just seems to make him a bit crazier and Jake is almost crying now cos it hurts so bad and feels so good.
'You close?' asks Jeremi and fuck Sam coulda been there five minutes ago so he just gasps and he feels the ass tighten a bit as he does too.
And Sam's well spent here and soaked with sweat, he gets up and lights a cig and finds the alc but Jake isn't done with them yet, he makes Jeremi put it back in so he can jerk off at least and nice some fucking life they've wound up with.

dumbass plans

2009-08-19T17:13:00.001+01:00

it makes perfect sense ‘ say’s Sam
The other two boys look away as if slightly embarrassed by his idea.
‘what’ says Sam
‘are you for real’ says Jake
‘what’
…….
‘what’ says Sam become pissed at the two of them
…….
‘OK’ says Sam, ‘why not’ and as he says this he spreads his arms wide.
Jake looks at him a mixture of concern and humour, mainly humour he guesses.
‘look Sam, Morocco’s like a Muslim country’
‘and’ says Sam
‘erm, Muslim’s and three gay boys, two of them brothers, all randy, sucking and fucking might just not be the winning combination in the hideaway stakes of life we need to be playing right now yeah’?
‘and that’s just it, dumbass’ say’s Sam
‘ whose gonna come a calling there’?
‘It’s gonna be cheap’ chips in Jeremi.
‘yeah, that too’ says Sam.
‘it feels so wrong’ says Jake shaking his head, worried now that Jeremi seems to be supporting Sam in this fucked up, half witted plan.
Jeremi’s already working the angles in his head, a boat, cheap Atlas mountain grade dope, eight miles to Spain, not just dope to smuggle either, all those illegal’s looking to enter Spain, start a new life, a dingy ride away.
‘I think we should give it a go’ says Jeremi.
‘see’ say’s Sam, ‘it’s not so dumbass to him, so Jake’
And he throws his brother an accusing look, a look to challenge the shit outta Jake.
‘It’s just so wrong, I can’t even begin to start to explain why’ says Jake.
‘cool’ says Sam. ‘Morroco it is then.
And then with a sparkle in his eye, a sparkle Jake spots immediately because it usually leads to enormous trouble and strife, troubles so large Sam says
‘and we can service all them pedo types who live there, I mean Jake you are only 15, they gonna pay for your ass big time and if there’s a little brotherly love thrown in we gonna cream em large style, no’.
‘No’ says Jake, ‘No’s the answer to that one‘.
‘we’ll see’ says Sam.
And now Jake is really starting to feel afraid, because he can see Sam not’s so far from serious with that idea.

white flags.

2009-08-17T00:23:00.002+01:00

He didn't mean it to happen it just did he jerked off and flipped over cos the sunburn hurt and he left the jeans unbuttoned cos he was lazy and next he knew it was fucking heaven like someone just greased him up and shoved it in so rough. And slowly he kinda realized it wasnt Jake's like he thought and he could've stopped it, fuck, no condom, he should've, but he didn't and just lay there cos Jeremi fucked him so different, rough and angry like. And he started to pull out he guesses cos he's gonna come and he says stay in and fuck it goes way in like further than ever he just gasps cos its making him cum also. And he's still in him and it's starting to hurt but he's not done, he wants more, so Sam rolls onto his back to let him in more and he opens his eyes for a second and Jake is watching an oh fuck this is gonna go so bad he thinks but then Jake goes down on him and he's getting so close and Jake tastes it and jumps right on it, no condoms no care right? Why worry about something that will kill us in ten years when there's no sure tomorrow?
Jake takes his turn after Jeremi, and he's never fucked Sam before or seemed into it, and he went for like 30 minutes so Sam can barely move now, both of them well past 8", he's just lying there covered in his own dried cum and filled with both of theirs and they're both standing at opposite ends of the boat when Jake just comes right out and says he made his decision.

fog

2009-08-13T22:00:00.002+01:00

It's so foggy that Sam has a splitting headache from trying to see where they're going for hours. And to make things worse, he doesn't know where they are, for all he knows the sun could burn out reveal they were only miles of some coastline or it could just be water all around them. Jeremi swore they were only going to stay far enough out to be in international waters, to go out much more would put them in the middle of the shipping lanes which has also got Sam so nervous he can't sleep, every night it's a nightmare about waking up to some giant ship crashing through their little sailboat because their lights are too weak to be seen. None of them are doing well, either, Jake is seasick and Jeremi just let slip that he has asthma and no medicine and Sam got himself sunburned so it's like some bad nineteenth century sailor's tale, everything is going wrong. Jake has gone from being too flirty with Jeremi to being right protective of him which maybe even worse to Sam. Once Jake gets that way it's damned impossible to change it.
Jeremi is coughing again and Sam can't feel much about it, what the fuck is wrong with me, he wonders, but worse is when Jake comes out to see Jeremi gasping away and Sam just standing there doing nothing, and now Jake is there, calming Jeremi until it goes away.
'It's the humidity,' says Jeremi, and thanks Jake, but Jake is looking at Sam with the look of a boy who just got all his Christmas presents stolen from him and tears are in his eyes and he comes up to Sam.
'What the fuck? Do you want us to ignore you if you have a diabetic reaction? Do you?'
And Sam feels just, shame, 'cos Jake is right, and he looks down and all he can do is apologize but Jake hisses, cutting him off.
'Don't apologize to me. Apologize to him. We all need each other now, all of us,' and then he's gone without even sticking around to see if Sam apologizes and he feels like puking atm 'cos he's being a real shit to Jeremi and he has to make himself do this, I mean fuck at least Jeremi through whatever fucked up chain of events got people scared enough to leave them alone for now, and he just says sorry.
And Jeremi shocks Sam with a big hug and tears and kisses him on the cheek and says he's not trying to come between them just he's well scared, not just cos his never been alone like this before or had to trust other people like this, he's a little scared of Jake, too, some, Jake who seems to swing between murderous rage and desperate loneliness, and Jeremi has a point there.
So Sam just says, hey, kiddo, let's get you out of the damp.
He brings him below decks, Jake is crying, Sam doesn't know why, Jake isn't in a real forgiving mood, he justs look at Sam and fuck he knows how to get back at him, how to really hurt him, dragging Jeremi into his bed.
He's undressing himself and Jeremi right in front of Sam, touching him gently, and Sam figures on some level he deserves this, and Jake is standing up and leans in close.
'I'm gonna have sex with him,' he whispers, 'and whether or not that ends up meaning anything is something you really got to think about, now.'
And for a minute Sam's just frozen in place, 'cos Jake is, not just sex but kissing Jeremi while his eyes are still fixed on Sam. Sam can't figure out how to react 'cos it's making feel like eight things at once, eight different things that he didn't think he could possibly feel at the same time, but he's not gonna give him the satisfaction, no, he goes up to the deck and finds a beer and smokes and lights one and then he just closes his eyes. He slides his hand down his jeans and starts massaging himself, gently, the fog wrapping him up tight and before he even is ready he cums all over the place, and curious, he tastes it, wonders what he tastes like, and decides he's not even gonna clean himself up cos he wonders what Jake will do when he comes out and sees what he's done. Jake's only caught him doing himself once and Sam knew on some level it hurt, as if Jake was scared he wasn't enough for Sam.

Poison

2009-08-11T15:05:00.001+01:00

“We all end up with our personal garbage , out own rotten, totally rotten, putrid smelling secrets, rotting away at us from the inside out, until it emerges through swollen pores visible in our behaviours and attitudes for the whole world to see and deal with. It’s a poison that destroys the spirit, optimism, love, compassion, whatever, it destroys any kind of future and this is just how Sam felt as he sat on the deck and watched Jake and that French tart Jeremi. A murder, a murderous brother to be accurate and where exactly would Jake draw the line on that one, just how far would he go to get whatever it was at that moment in time, would he go as far as Sam, if Sam were to cross him somehow, would Jake kill his own brother, the act itself had been so fast, so instantaneous Sam hadn’t seen it coming until the wood had exploded across and then into Sydney’s face, no warning just action that’s Jake. Sam watched as Jeremi put his arm around Jake, laughing, flirting, looking into his brothers eyes deeply, no fuck this thought Sam, it’s just totally out of order wrong, bang outta, and as he watched he thought I need to get a wedge in between Jake and Jeremi, poison Jake against Jeremi, until that murderous rage exploded, yeah thought Sam, that’s the way to get rid of that French tart, get Jake so poisoned up against him that he did it, leaving no opposition for Sam, just the two of them again and as he thought how he would do that Sam sat back and watched and as he watched the two of them together his anger focused into a plan.

open water.

2009-08-09T15:57:00.002+01:00

Sam hopes things get better. They left a mess in Calais. The conductor wasn't drunk but he wasn't all there, he was texting when the train ran through so the crowd at the Calais stop got to meet the upper half of Sydney Thomson which of course ran live on BBC along with all of their photos. He's not sure what to make of Jeremi. He brings money into the whole plan, which is something they really needed cos Jake seemed to go through it like water around French food and wine, but that life is done and they can't set foot in Europe for a long time now that their pics are on BBC and everywhere else.
They're sailing somewhere different, straight out into the ocean, and thankfully Jeremi knows what he's doing there, no more of Sam fishing Jake out of the soup cos he got knocked over by the sail. Jeremi has his mobile with him to tell his dad he was okay and going away for a while and his godfather is getting well bent by the French police for operating without permission and they're wondering about the mayor's involvement cos the coverup was a complete fail, some old lady talked and everything came out. And it's almost a relief to see the bars on the Orange phone go to zero and then roam and then nothing and they're really out in it now, no land in sight.
Jake hasn't spoken a word in a day and barely come out of the cabin, not since he beat Sydney, he won't even let Sam near him atm though he seems to get on with Jeremi okay and let Jeremi hug him so at least maybe he can talk to him if he feels like it.
Jeremi picks up the mobile, studies it, then tosses it into the sea.
'Fuck the world,' he says.
And Jake finally comes out and the first person he talks to is Jeremi, which bothers Sam, but at least he's talking, something about making lunch for them.
'Let's go someplace warm,' he mutters. 'I don't wanna be cold ever again.'
And then he hugs Jeremi and tugs on Sam's shirt to bring him in and just maybe the world has tilted a bit in their favor.

2009-08-09T13:37:00.003+01:00

Trenhomle's watching breakfast television, well he has an ear on it, he finds both of the presenters irritating in the extreme, so he listens.
He's beyond irritation, the deal for the kids heart has hit the rails just as it was on, everyone had disappeared off the face of the earth, mobiles no longer worked, all contact lost and a son dying by the second, losing weight, skin almost translucent blue.The mention of the name of a school on the news makes him turn and look at the TV set.
'French Police have issued an appeal concerning the murder last night of a recently retired English and Latin schoolmaster Sydney Thompson formally of St Luke's Public School, Worcester. The French Police believe his murder may be tied to that of missing school boy Jake Smart and his older brother Sam Smart. The boy's have not been since the murder of their mother and lover and apparent suicide of father Jacob at the family cottage just outside Basingstoke, Hampshire. Anyone with details should contact investigating magistrate Ms Dederoit at Calais Central Police Station, contact details of which appear on our BBC news web site, the number is also at the bottom of your screens....now'
then the idiot newsreaders move onto a story concerning Madonna and her apparent physical assault by one of the children she recently adopted from the Philippines.
Trenholme picks up his mobile and locates the name of his Head of HR and pushes 'dial'.
"Carol..Ian...I have to take a few days out, no longer than a week" he listens as his rather dull, overweight Head cackles on about 'no problem' he almost cuts her off before she has finished. Then he shouts through to his wife who is attending to their son in the kitchen.
"Jane, I have to go to Calais, there maybe some news there that can re-start our search, I need to pack and go, I will phone you from the car, OK and try and watch the news, you will see what I mean" and shhe nods her head and say's
"go. go, quickly" and returns to their son in the kitchen.

2009-08-08T17:09:00.002+01:00

€4200.
Its enough he guesses for now though he's trying to game how to keep things going once he finds the people this fat man is looking for, game it so he can tell him to swoop him off his feet and find an apartment in Paris or Bruxelles or Bruge and why not hey let him pay the deposit. The man is in love with him and he could care less except what easier way is there than to take advantage of that?
And he curses to himself cos it's 23:00 and he's crawling over a sand dune, he had to make it look more difficult than it really was to find them, I mean it's two kids in a giant sailboat which kinda stands out.
He hopes Sydney is as stupid as he seems, too, cos that scary fuck also named Sydney has been following them non-stop all day and is as subtle as an express train, and he better not fucknig expect to get a cut of it, cos Jeremi is gonna work this all the way if he can.
There's a yell just after they cross the dune and he has the common sense to dodge and duck, but for a fat man like Sydney that's not so easy, the younger one of the two has a piece of driftwood and smacks him right across the face which takes him down well quick and he just stands for a second and seems to recognize him and fuck he goes berserk and starts smashing his face with it and then Jeremi has to do something to protect his investment and it's him and the psycho guy and the other kid all trying to pry him off and they're getting sprayed with blood and bits of Sydney and fuck how can this kid be so strong they can barely knock him down.
And finally they manage to just knock him over but he's smashed his face in well serious and been kicking him like a football and fuck there's blood everywhere and Sydney isn't moving and his sport jacket is drenched with blood and his face is a pulp of shattered bones and blood and ripped flesh and fuck fuck the scary Sydney is checking his pulse and looking all serious and fuck Jeremi is now thinking how the fuck what the fuck cos he's never seen someone beat this bad and now scary Sydney is doing CPR and the bank at least coughs and spits up blood, he's spitting it up bigtime, huge chunks of something soaked in red.
And now the younger one speaks and he says 'Why the fuck can't all of you stay out of your lives?'
And suddenly he's at him again, knocks the psycho guy right over and this time it's for real, he just slamming a huge piece of wood down on the bank's head and this time no one is stepping in cos they're all to scared, he just's smashing and smashing and the dunes are running over with blood and his face is all grotesque broken up and its him and scary guy and the other kid just standing at the outskirts of this play with no fucking clue, it's just like he wants to end this guy, and finally scary guy tries to step in and fuck if he doesn't get piece too, right across the head, with as much force as a pro cricket player and that's when the other kid steps in and then the younger one just collapses and starts crying and this is all so fucked up, the bank has to be dead by now, he's in pieces and curled up in some strange fucked crunched position and bits of him are falling out of his head like one of his eyes and thats so fucking gross cos it's like hanging out and hes not breathing and Jeremi's 'protector' is also out, stunned, and then the older one speaks.
'Why can't you just fucking leave us be?'
And fuck Jeremi doesn't know what to say, he wasn't tryin to be a part of this just it ended up happening and now he feels guilty cos the fat man spent his last 4200 on him to die in a smashed-up pile on the dunes and he finds himself asking the pair to take him with him, cos sure as hell he's well fucked if he stays, even tho psycho guy has come to and is rubbing his head and muttering something about putting the body on the train tracks, all he can think of is going to the jar and getting the rest of it and begging them to take him away cos unless the conductor is blind there's no way to pass this off as anything than it was.
He's sitting here and feeling sick and realizing this is the first dead body he's seen, the first time he's seen someone smashed to pieces. What a sad ending for such a sad man.

Moving On.

2009-08-08T15:24:00.000+01:00

“maybe we should think of moving on Sam, move down the coast a little”
“why” say’s Sam, not sure why he would even question because he doesn’t really care where he is as long as Jake’s there.
“well I don’t think we should stay in one place too long, not just yet anyway”.
“like love on the run” laughs Sam.
“yeah Sam, just like love on the run”
“but what we running from Jake”
“dunno, but it feels safer to keep moving for now”
“can’t we just stay a few days Jake and then move”“feels like a risk Sam, it just feels risky to me”
suddenly Sam remembers the Jake of old, always with a devious, nasty little plan that would always bite you when you less expected.
“but I thought you said no plans Jake, what’s this if it’s not a plan”
“I’m not sure it’s a plan Sam to be honest, it’s just an idea and I think it’s a safe one” and now Jake’s a little pissed at Sam, because sometimes Sam can be a little fuckhead when it comes to running his life.
“well moving along the coast sounds like a plan to me, what’s it a plan for”?
“its not a plan for anything Sam, remember the last plan you were involved in would have seen you missing vital organs by now, sold over the internet.
“well my plan say’s stay here” says Sam and he has no reason to say this apart from Jake’s started to get all bossy and planny on him and he knows where that leads too usually.
“OK, OK, Sam, to make you see there is no plan, nothing, we will stay here, OK, stay here for fucking ever if you like, but don’t come woosing it up to me when something happens.
“good” says Sam “here it is then”
and although Sam has got his own way he’s starting to immediately regret it, because it means he will be responsible for anything that happens from here on in and Sam knows he’s not big on responsibility.

reparations.

2009-08-06T16:19:00.002+01:00

'You did what with him?' says Matthieu to Jeremi, glaring at Sydney now, 'You said you would keep an eye on him, dammit. And now this? How could you do this?'
Matthieu is furious and pacing. 'How?' he repeats.
Jeremi produces a thick was of Euros.
'Merde!'
Sydney counts it.
'There's nearly two thousand euros here.'
'What did you do with him?' demands Matthieu.
'Do you really want to know? Do you care? He didn't force me to do anything, I just wanted his money, and if all it takes is me doin' some acting for his fat pasty greasy corpse of a body, so be it. He said to meet up with him this afternoon and he's gonna give me more, not just for, you know, but to help him find someone tonight.'
'I knew it,' said Sydney.
'Knew what.'
But he can't exactly level with Matthieu about why he's here so he has to concoct an elaborate story about Jake and Sam and Sydney Thomson trying to abduct them for sale into some harem and by the time he's through he can't believe himself what he just tried to pass off as real but apparently Matthieu is shellshocked enough by what Jeremi is doing that he'll believe anything now, his jaw has been hanging open and and twitching for like five minutes.
'Give me back my money,' says Jeremi. 'Do I have to do this thing with helping him find those people? I mean, I got a good thing going here, I can play him for a few more days and probably take everything he has.'
'I suppose you'll be nice enough to leave him enough to buy a Eurostar back to the UK,' says Sydney, handing him back his money. This kid was starting to remind him of Somalia.
'Standard class,' answers Jeremi, and before Matthieu can say anything more, he's gone.
'Well, Matthieu, like you said, I'm not sure Jeremi is the one in need of protecting.'

Jeremi stuffs the €1900 in a place he knows no one but him will ever find it, then wonders just how much more this man is good for. At this rate he'll be able to let a decent flat in Paris or Bruxelles, far from this shit village, and he doesn't care what they told him, he's gonna lead this fat old idiot on several wild rides at night to not find anything at all, just to keep him paying up, and whatever the fat man wants, he'll get so long as his euros are there.
And he finds the man, sitting in public, drinking straight from a bottle of some cheap vodka, I guess Sydney has figured out that people hating him just means he can get away with anything. He offers Jeremi a swig, and Jeremi knows the role Sydney most wants him to play.
'My dad says I can't drink,' he says, puppy-dog like.
'It's okay,' says Sydney. 'I won't tell. And I have money for you, too.'
Jeremi pretends to hesitate and takes a swig from the bottle, ignoring the fact that the fat man's spit-stained mustache and backwash are all over the bottle mouth and the vodka is not just warm, it's practically hot from being in the man's fat hands for an hour.
And he leads him back to his flat, holding his hand like the man wants, and doesn't complain when Sydney tells him to put on some pajamas with cartoon characters on it, doesn't complain even when the man wants him to take off the pajama top and takes a photograph of him shirtless with a cheap disposable camera. Sydney wants to give him a bath and wash his hair and then accidentally drops the soap bar in and fumbles around down there just 'cos Jeremi is letting him, and now he's putting the soap bar in places that Jeremi isn't so sure about, he just closes his mind to it though and thinks about the money, about a place in Paris, not about the clumsy pudgy fingers prodding him with uncut dirty nails, none of that, just, the money. 'Cos he's a good actor and actors do what they're paid to do, right?
So he plays this one to the max, getting out of the tub and stuffing himself into the pajama bottoms but letting Sydney pop the button off the front and fiddle about, think of the money, and he doesn't even mind so much now when he's told to lie on his stomach and Sydney climbs on top, almost knocking the wind out of him while he fumbles with his member to try to get this little thing in, it's a tough task when you can't see around your stomach, but he manages and then it's just flap, flap as his gut slaps against Jeremi's ass and back and then he grunts like a cow getting milked with cold hands and at least the job is done and Jeremi goes to collect his salary and is pleased to see there's even more money in there this time.
'I put some extra in there, so you can help me find those people tonight, okay?'
'Oui,' says Jeremi.
'Can I play with yours some?' he asks and Jeremi nods, he doesn't mind anyone jerking him off, really, he just closes his eyes and thinks about the woman on TV in the shower commercials and that sweet tiny patch of red hair down there, the soap trickling around her pussy, imagining himself down there, first with gentle fingers, then his tongue, licking it and her moaning, and then he shoots everywhere at the thought of the slight wet fishy taste in his mouth.
'Wow, big boy,' says Sydney. 'You must have really enjoyed what I did.'
'Oui, but of course, oui, you want you can stay tonight, for money of course?'

2009-08-06T15:01:00.003+01:00

The bubble of spit hanging from Jeremi's mouth becomes a major fascination for Sydney or more correctly the boys lips do, so red and full, firm to the kiss, he reaches across and with a finger scoops the spit from the boys face and places it in his own mouth and drinks down and as his finger enters his own mouth his cock hardens so that the tip of it is now brushing against Jeremi's fingers. Jeremi opens his hand and takes Sydney's cock, still moist from their earlier sex and runs his fingers along the cock and then sucks his fingers, tasting Sydney. Sydney's eyes narrow, he cannot imagine why anyone would want to do that. Then Jeremi bends forwards and takes Sydney's cock in his mouth, cleansing it with his mouth, licking and sucking clean and as he does Sydney's cock starts to ooze pre-cum so Jeremi licks that as well and with a massive suck along the length lets the cock fall from his mouth but he keeps his tongue in contact with Sydney's body and starts to lick his distended stomach and pushes the stomach with his hand so the rolls fat of flatten out, he moves further up Sydney's body to his tits and they are tits so like a woman is Sydney's body shape and licks and sucks on Sydney's nipples like a new born with it's mother. Sydney lies back wanting this more than anything in the world.
"more tomorrow, yes" says's Jeremi
and Sydney says "no now, please"
Jeremi puts his hand back around Sydney's cock and gives it a pull and says
"non, tomorrow, money first, then sex,yes".

magick.

2009-08-05T18:10:00.002+01:00

Sydney thinks he should have seen his doctor before hand, because he almost stroked out, one second Jeremi was hinting at what might be possible and the next he was riding him, everytime he squatted down all the way it 'bout made Sydney explode and maybe he just did fucking die and go to heaven.
He never knew it could be like this, never knew a world beyond smell piss-stained public urinals and sweat-stinking moldy bathhouses and god here was Jeremi, just perfect, his skin so pale and white and yes he knows exactly what he's with.
'You're an angel,' he says, almost in disbelief that he just said that out loud, but it's true ffs, Jeremi is an angel of some sort, his angel, and the boy just laughs.
'Non, non,' he protests, and matter of factly stands up, the head of his penis still moist, walking past Sydney and its so close to his lips it makes him almost cry. And the boy opens up Sydney's wallet and helps himself but Sydney doesn't care.
'I can get more,' he says, 'will you let me stay?'
'If you can get more, to be sure, yes.'
'And later I need your help with something, I will pay you for that, also.'
'Is fine. You want to take sleep first? Dormir avec votre ange?'
Sydney nods, this is just amazing, the boy curled up, secure, not even caring about the folds of Sydney's sagging skin on top of his stomach, he just breathes, a soft scent of intoxicating orange wafting from his perfect full lips like Cointreau sex which are just slightly apart to show his gleaming perfect teeth, a bubble of spit slipping out of the corner of the boy's mouth.
Sydney is stroking his long black hair gently and whispers, 'You are so beautiful, so perfect in every way.' And Jeremi moves his hand ever so slightly, until it just barely rests itself on Sydney's pubes.

A Boy An Orange and A Grubby Set Of White Underwear

2009-08-05T18:04:00.000+01:00

Jeremi sits next to Sydney on the sofa and as his ass hit’s the seat he spreads his legs so wide his jeans creak at the seams and he wipes both hands one on each leg, his hands spread on top of his thighs and then down to his knees.
“that’s better” he says.
“yes absolutely” says Sydney still staring at the legs cased in tight jeans.
Jeremi moves his hands to his crotch and pretends to wipe his hands again as he moves them over his cock, an outline of which appears.
Sydney is transfixed and cannot take his eyes off the boys crotch.
“I think you like some fun sometimes” says Jeremi in his best little boy lost, coy voice.
“I do” says Sydney rather solemnly as he cannot really imagine, such a boy would ever want to have sex with him willingly, twenty years at least the boys senior at least five stone over weight and no prospects to speak of.
Jeremi claps his hands together and laughs
“what fun then” and drapes his arm behind Sydney’s head on the sofa, he shifts his body, one leg under the other to show better his hardening cock.
Sydney’s out of his depth and he knows it, he’s more used to being in control of the boy, more used to submission even tears as he dances his dance of seduction. He watches as Jeremi peels the second orange, slowly, Sydney transfixed by his slim elegant, noble even fingers. Fingers which might soon to touching and rubbing, probing and loving Sydney’s body. Jeremi places the peeled orange on a table next to the sofa and stands.
“and now fun”
And he slowly peels the tee over his head, Sydney watches as the tee rises over a flat well muscled set of abs, as it travels over ribs, exposed and sharp under soft, sunburnt skin, then over a slender neck, then over head and as he drops his tee shirt to the floor Jeremi shifts his weight onto one leg so his upper body has a curve to it. Sydney pulls at his swollen cock through his thick woollen trousers. Jeremi see’s this and giggles “what fun” and kneels in front of Sydney and undoes his belt and buttons on his trousers and pulls them off his overweight rather pale legs. Jeremi raises himself slightly and feels Sydney’s rather small, podgy cock through his white underwear
“and now” Jeremi places his hands on the bands of Sydney’s underwear and pulls them down, Sydney lifts hiss ass to aid removal and as they slide down his legs his rather small, pale cock springs up. Jeremi stands and pulls his own jeans and shorts off in one motion, a full, hard, lengthy cock springs against his flat stomach.
“so this is fun” he laughs and Sydney can just about answer “yes” so tight and constricted is this throat. Then Jeremi picks up the peeled orange from the table and pushes it into Sydney’s mouth, Sydney tries to struggle
“non” Jeremi crys and pushes it further inside Sydney’s mouth. Jeremi then sucks three of his fingers and pushes them inside his ass and Sydney’s cock starts to ooze some pre cum and Sydney wipes his cock with thumb and forefinger as Jeremi moves astride him and slides his ass over Sydney’s cock.

touched.

2009-08-05T15:34:00.008+01:00

'Who are you and what the hell is my son doing with that stranger?' snarls a voice directly behind Sydney, all the more shocking because he's gotten himself so wrapped in the stageplay he's created he complete forgot his surroundings, something Sydney never does. He spins to confront the voice.
'And just who- wait...Matthieu? Is that really you?'
The man looks the same as he did ten years ago, a little more wrinkled, perhaps, but the same intense dark green eyes, unusual enough without the smooth straight jet black hair he still kept long enough to almost seem unkempt.
'Sydney? Well I'll be fucked, it's been, what, ten years?'
'Fifteen I'm guessing.'
'Damn. We're old men now, aren't we?'
'Speak for yourself.'
It's as if it they were back there, that summer where Sydney, then a relative newcomer to SAS, had participated in a joint exercise with his counterparts across the channel and found a friend at once in Matthieu. Despite being the son of a prominent and very wealthy family, the young man of perhaps twenty-three at the time never had made any comments about it. Sydney had taken him under his wing and the two of them became inseparable, a pair everyone wanted on their excercises because they moved in perfect lockstep every time.
'So, all history aside, what have you gotten my son into?'
'See that man there?'
'The one that is drunkenly trying to grope my son,' says Matthieu, not sounding at all amused.
'Your son's idea, not mine, and I must say he must have learned some skills from you about getting people to let down their guard.'
Matthieu grunts, and he's obviously still not very happy, so Sydney continues, 'That man is involved in a few things back home we couldn't quite pin him down on. Nothing dangerous, mind you, but when he decided to come to France, well, I figured he might be easier to catch off-guard.'
'What sort of things?'
'Smuggling of some kind, is our best guess. Prepaid cel phones to people in port cities, that sort of thing, and he seems to have a thing for, well, you know.'
'I'm getting a picture, and I'm not liking it.'
'I'm not going to let your son out of my sight, you know me, he's safe.'
'It's not my son I am worried about, my friend. The boy is a demon, I am quite sure, even still, he is my son.'
'Well, perhaps you can also assist here, the people I represent would...be quite appreciative, if you get my meaning.'
'What are you trying to accomplish?'
'Well, if your son is overly friendly to him, and a lot of the other people are downright mean, that will put your son in the unique position of trust, a position where a man is likely to betray himself quite easily.'
'So, what do you want me to do? I can spread the word among the elders and parents here pretty quickly, we are a small enough village, if you think that will work.'
'Yes, let's do that. He's also rented a car -- see the Citroen over there?'
'The hideously colored one -- god, is that purple? I didn't know such a color existed, mon dieu.'
'I think it needs a ticket, it is illegal to park right in front of the pub like that, right? And then maybe ask your officers to ignore what happens next?'
Matthieu laughs.
'God, Sydney, you haven't changed. Remind me to stay on your good side.'

Inside, Sydney Thomson is having some difficulty concentrating. Too many pints and he keeps looking back and forth between the beer and the boy, the tender drops of sweat trickling down his naked chest, across his nipples, down to his stomach before disappearing behind the belt that holds secrets for Sydney, oh just to trace that bead all the way down. He doesn't even notice the boy looking over his shoulder, the subtle nod he gives to an unseen man outside.
'Is that your car?' asks the boy.
'Car? What- Oh, fuck, great, a parking ticket. Where's the bloody sign that says I can't park there?'
He almost makes the door before two teenagers crash into him knocking him over. To his disbelief they start smashing the windows out of it.
'That's my fucking car! My fucking car! Where'd the fucking copper go that was just here?! Police!'
But they're gone and he's lying on the sidewalk, wondering if he bought insurance with the rental. An old woman in a shawl stops in front of him and looks at him with the meanest look he's ever seen on a woman in his life.
'Madame??' he asks.
'Va te faire foutre! Clochard de merde!' and to his disbelief, she *spits* on him. Yes, spits.
'What the bloody fucking hell?!'
He starts to stand, indignant, before he feels a firm hand on his shoulder
'Don't,' hisses a voice, 'It's not safe for you here, come with me, now or there is trouble. You do not want to make these people angry, gypsies.'
He now notices that there are several people staring at him, before the boy spoke they would have seemed normal enough but now that he looks at them, there definitely is *something* off. Something he can't quite put his finger on.
The hand tugs on his shoulder again, and a chill runs down his spine, and Sydney is only to happy to follow wherever the boy is taking him, which turns out to be a small cellar apartment which has barely a stick of furniture in it, just a lamp, a floor with a mattress on it.
'J'mappelle Jérémi', says the boy, and Sydney can almost feel rust on his mental gears as he tries to unshackle his memories of French from three decades ago.
'Sydney,' he says, 'uhm...Anglais?'
The boy nods and produces two oranges from his backpack, offering Sydney one, but all Sydney can do is sit there, realizing now he's alone with Jérémi, smelling the sweetness of the fruit, seeing its juice trickle down across the boy's lips, dribbling onto the crotch of his dirty ripped jeans. He reaches out and touches the boy's crotch, and the boy is a bit shocked but all he says is, 'is fifty euros to start, okay?' with a soft look in his eyes, so pouty, and Sydney notices that his pupils are catching the sunlight so slightly they almost seem violet in the semi-darkness of the room, and he feels a stirring in the jeans.
'You can touch to me,' says Jérémi. 'Is cool. Touch for real touch, okay?'

A Predatory Step Closer For Sydney

2009-08-05T14:30:00.000+01:00

Sydney watches as the youth leans across the bar and orders a coke, he remains leant across the bar as the barman walks away to get a cold coke from the freezer shelf.
The youth aware he is being watched, places one foot on top of the other to give his long legs a tight outline, he grinds one foot into the other so his leg muscles tense through his jeans. Sydney cannot take his eyes off the boy and allows, demands that his eyes travel up the long legs of the youth to the small of the boys back as his tee raised up in the posture of leaning exposes the lower vertebrae of his back, eyes travel down the muscle group to see a vivid white line against the boys tanned skin the line interrupted only by the boys butt crack his eyes travel down to a perfectly arranged white elastic band the top of the boys shorts, eyes travel down, green and white hoop’d material tort against the boys ass, back to legs still moving, still grinding.
Sydney moves a step closer, a predatory step closer, moving into the boys space and looks down again.
He can feel the boys vertebrae as he runs his hands down the lower of the boys spine, feel his fingers move against the bone that is supported by such soft skin, skin that gives slightly to the touch and down and he imagines he is tracing with a finger the boys tan line and then placing his tongue on the youths skin and licking around the boys body where the line runs in perfect geometry the circumference of his body and back to the boys ass, tongue in butt crack working its way down to the boys ass, he lets out a slight groan as he imagines his tongue placed against the boys asshole, he imagines pushing his tongue inside the youth and as he imagines he lets out a long sigh.
“bonsoir”
Sydney is snapped back to the bar as the boy speaks to him.
“er Bonsoir, ja’m..”
The boy interrupts

“English please, you are English”
“yes” says Sydney “I am English”
And as Sydney says “yes” another “yes” is being spoken on a boat barely half a mile away, a yes that see’s two boys, two brothers wrapped in each others arms, hot, in love and as Sam say’s “yes” Jake moves his cock towards Sam’s ass.

2009-08-04T23:16:00.003+01:00

The rain that threatened in London developed while they were in the tunnel so much that the Eurostar had to slow down because of crosswinds. By the time they hit Calais, Sydney was practically about to explode from the delay. But he knew the man he sought well enough by now to have figured exactly what Sydney Thomson would do, a weak man, he would find the rain too much to deal with and duck into a bar, preferably one close to the station so as not to involve to much effort. And sure enough, a cautious peek around a corner found the man taking a swim in a giant glass of beer, Sydney notices the man has taste if not a sense of irony because he's chosen the Belgian beer 'Nostradamus.'
He's determined his course of action here, to some extent, its to very much stay invisible yet create a chain of events that convince the pathetic man thinks he is cursed. Going at him head on had not been working, his defenses and stubborness were too much up, so the trick would be to convince him that something supernatural was aligning against him. As if magic were against his plans. Sydney knew just the trick, in fact almost tripped over his first rabbit in the hat trying to avoid being seen, a slight youth of perhaps sixteen or fifteen who was looking at him curiously.
'My papa is the mayor,' the boy announces in "rustic" French, 'and he detests strangers lurking about peering in the windows.'
Sydney smiles to himself and peels a hundred euros.
'Then you can make me your friend. I, well, we, need some assistance from your town, and you first, with that gentleman in there. He's a very bad sort which my agency has been trying to catch in the act of, of,'
Best not be too specific. Let the boy put words into his mouth.
The trick works, because the boy wants to feel as powerful as his dad, and he's going to use exactly the powers that will work best on Sydney Thomson to get the man chased by people with pitchforks, well, maybe not literally, that'd be too much fun. Sydney watches the boy peel off his skin-tight T-shirt and saunter into the bar, careful to almost slither by ever so close to the pitiful man, and thinks to himself the lad has a gift for ruining lives, almost takes a sort of pride in it.
And it works, for now Sydney Thomson's developed a shake in one hand and after a moment finds an excuse to say hello to the boy, practically falling over himself to look casual while acting as nonchalant as a starved coyote in a nursery full of infants.
This is going to be a lot of fun.

2009-08-04T14:40:00.002+01:00

"I don't believe this, tickets to Calais on Eurostar, time"?
Jake's godfather Sydney is taking a call from that creep Sydney Thompson bank
"OK thanks" he says to the teller whose being paid handsomely to closely monitor Sydney Thompson's account.
Calais, two missing boys, a missing boat and now their old teachers heading off to France.
Sydney looks at his watch and with a cab he can make that train, he throws a few clothes into a bag, steps out into the London grey drizzle and hails a cab.

trains and tunnels

2009-08-03T22:00:00.002+01:00

The sun had finally come out and Sydney Thompson recalled thinking to himself, why not pop out to the pub, walk around a bit. So he did and enjoyed a pint or three or more, and then he found himself looking at his watch.
"Right, well I've got to go," he announced to the bartender.
"In such a hurry? Where to?"
"I'm going to go die, I think."
"What?"
He laughs a bit, "Well it, it really doesn't matter, now does it?"
He has decided to refuse to concern himself with threats and facts. It's simple, really. He made a decision, and that's that. It's really such a relief. He has no issue dropping £215 to get the very best Eurostar seats from St. Pancras to Calais. He smiles at everyone, which is apparently something people find alarming, but he doesn't mind them.
He's going to Calais.
He's going to find Jake, and he's going to get an explanation. For everything.
While he realizes what happens to him whenever he is unwise enough to follow a few pints with the harder stuff, this is business class, and class is the word, so he orders a double Gray Goose with a twist. The English countryside whirs by at an increasing rate of speed, and the fact it is receding is also making feel even better. He smiles to himself and chuckles at an article in the magazine he picked up back at the station. He chuckles to himself again when he gets his drink, careful not to spill it, savoring its icy burn as the train descends into the tunnel.

Sam's second and third thoughts

2009-08-03T16:01:00.003+01:00

Sam watches Jake as he drifts into what?
Sleep a coma, death.
"fuck Sam you stupid shit, why did you do that, cos I can't trust him, never could, never will, whys he being so nice, ask yourself that Sam, cos he's fucked up at school and needs someone now and he thinks that's me does he, he sprung you from hospital didn't he, came and got you, sorted the cottage for you, how was he to know some rednecks would come along and the sex well hadn't that just happened, as much as you as him" Sam's heads spinning, for every opinion there's another and he doesn't have a clue which opinion if any might be the right one.
"so that's enough to kill him is it Sam, because you don't know if he's faking or not, did the sex' the love, the way he held you, kissed you, long and tender the way he lay back all nervous the first time you went down on him, he trusted you to shove ya fist up his ass for fucks sake Sam all that passed between you two, did that feel fake or did it feel like the best thing that's ever happened to you, Well Sam".
Sam shifts, uneasily.
"fuck, fuck, Jake, Jake, wake up, wake up and he slaps Jake face hard.
Jake comes out of his sleep with a bump.
"Jake you need to chuck man, in the bathroom now"
Jake's confused
"I don't feel sick Sam, I just need sleep"
"No Jake, come on, I heard you in your sleep you were retching, now come on".
Sam helps Jake out of bed, a lack of sleep and maybe the Xanax make him stagger a little so Sam holds him upright and walks him to the bathroom.
"Now put a finger down your throat and chuck says Sam. Jake blinks at him, unsure, but does what he's told and suddenly there's a gush of water and three undissolved pills laying in the bowl.
"well done" says Sam
"yeah" says Jake a little unsure.
"now back to bed mister" says Sam in his best matronly tone and he helps his brother back into bed and pulls him tight against his body as he again watches Jake drift into sleep.
As Sam starts to feel sleep coming he looks at Jake and says
"night Jake the fake" and drifts into a sleep of his own.

Sam. Dreams and Pillls

2009-08-03T14:38:00.002+01:00

"its OK Jake, I'm here" says Sam as he scrapes himself off the ceiling.
"it's good, just me and you and the boat, remember"
and Jake looks at Sam and the boat and runs his hand through his hair to take it out of his eyes.
"yeah, it's OK Sam, I musta been dreaming"
"and some" says Sam
"man I am so tired and now I'm kinda scared to close my eyes again"
"hold on" says Sam and he gets up from the bed and walks into the galley, pours a glass of water and tips six Xanax from the bottle of pills, he stands and looks at them in the palm of his hand, tosses em up and they land back pretty much where they had been, as Sam thinks he tosses the pills. Then he places the three pills on the kitchen worktop and as he grinds them with the back of a spoon into powder all that's running through his head is "fraud, ya fake Jake, fucking asshole fake" and as his anger builds in it's intensity he grinds them down.
"Sam, you OK, out there"? shouts Jake
"Yep, hold on, be right there" and Sam sweeps the powder into the glass and shakes it, then takes another three Xanax from the bottle and takes them and the water through to Jake.
"here, take these and drink this fast, wash em down" Sam holds out the pills and the water and Jake puts all three in his mouth and necks the water.
"Now just lie here against my arm and get some sleep" says Sam drawing him into his body and as Jake starts to drift back into sleep Sam looks at his brother but all he hears is "fake, ya fucking fake man" run through his head.

sharks.

2009-08-01T23:59:00.000+01:00

It's the same one every night.

Jake is in the dark ocean and the storm is back, whipping the surface waves. He turns and turns but he can't find the boat, can't find Sam. He yells for his name and the water is freezing, so cold his penis is shrinking to nothing and he can almost feel his lips turning blue, so scared he feels like his heart might jump right out of his throat and skip away across the water to dry land and warmth and safety.
Something brushes his leg and he laughs and yells 'Sam, stop it, asshole, you scared me.'
But there's no response, just more wind and rain, and the something brushes against his leg again and suddenly grabs his leg hard, like ten of his dad's friend Sydney hard, and he fights but it drags him beneath the waves.
He sees an eye that seems to have no life or emotion in it rush by him. And another. And more. And all around him, glinting through the lightning-lit ocean, glimpses of rows of jagged, cruel, serrated teeth. And his air is giving out fast and all he can do is scream for Sam but there's no answer and the teeth are closer...closer...closer...

And he wakes up with a scream this time, it was worse than usual, Sam was already awake and jumps so high he almost knocks himself out on the cabin roof.
'What the fuck?' he asks him.
And Jake wants to tell him but he can't, this can't be real, every time Sam says 'no plans' Jake wants to shake him and tell him he's not built like that and fuck if it were anyone but Sam he would never have done any of this or trusted any of this enough to agree to it. He just wonders how he's gonna keep living like this, 'cos he can't sleep for shit but he wants to because he really feels like, just maybe for the first time in his life, he cares about someone as much as himself, hell, much more than himself, which is also pretty fucking scary.

Sam Awake

2009-08-01T14:19:00.005+01:00

Jake's asleep and Sam has been just raised on one elbow for half an hour just looking at him sleep, how his lips turn upwards, how his long lashes flutter when he starts to dream and Sam has started to realise this is just a dream too. Him and Jake a dream. Jake his brother, his scheming little shit of a brother who he hasn't trusted since he was like six years old, good old charming, lovable, adorable Jake who screws everyone over and like they really don't mind cos he does it with such style and grace, some even come back for more, well not me Jake boy, not this fucking sucker and Sam moves from the weight from his elbow and sits at the foot of the bed, naked. Sam starts to put it all together.
Like Jake springs me from hospital, why, why would he do that, he's never ever, ever done anything to help me in anyway before, then the cottage and those locals there to what? was it just a beating or was it meant to be something else and the gun left, the phone call to Dad, the murder and suicide, running so there where no questions to face and now it's just Jake and me here, that's it, no one knows where we are, I don't even know where I am all I know is Jake's in charge, like always.

distance.

2009-07-31T00:45:00.002+01:00

It is the saddest funeral he has ever seen. Not because he particularly cared for either corpse, though given the circumstances they died he half expected one of the coffins to shuffle off by itself. The cold distant witch who had shaped the young man, the distant man content to let his destiny run over him like a Challenger tank...the perfect combination to produce the creature staring at him through a wall of lacquer.

He stared into those eyes and even frozen in time as they were they looked right through him. Sydney swayed a bit. The pints were catching up to him and he was glad he'd taxi'd here. He considers the photo, feeling a desperate urge to urinate on it. But he was in enough trouble as it was. He stuffed his hands into his pocket and turned to leave, running directly into the bulldog man, the other Sydney. Sydney bounces right off of him and falls to the ground, realizing quite well he's lying on top of a grave with the face of Jake peering at him on the one side and a ruthless psychopath on the other.

'I hear you've made inquires,' hisses the bulldog man.
'Inquiries? What inq-'
Before he can finish the man has lifted him into the air like a teddy bear and flung him against a tree. Something cracks and he doubts it's the tree. Now Sydney is right in his face.
'You should stop, if you know what's good for you. Never think of my godson, never once, not even for a second, or you will find yourself with a bag over your head one minute and the next in some arsefuck of a country where I'll make sure everyone knows all about you.'
Sydney Thomson tries to open his mouth in protest but instead of words he throws up all over himself.
'You're pathetic,' says the man. He tosses a cheap bottle of gin at Sydney Thomson's balls so hard that he doubles over in pain. 'I'm watching ya, and if you so much as think of trying to find him, there is no government or person on this planet ta save ya. Go get drunk and fall into a pond, for the good of everyone, for fuck's sake.'
And with a parting kick, of course right in the bollocks again, the bulldog man is gone.

In his younger days his mind might have worked here, a-ha, a protector, how can I use that to my advantage, some sort of desire stirring in him, but now all he feels is terror and sickness and he quickly seizes the bottle to shut it down.

It takes several gulps before it occurs to his soggy brain that the bottle was already opened when he got it. His hands are shaking and he lights a bent cigarette to stop them, but of course, it chooses that moment to start pouring an icy rain.

A question of trust.

2009-07-30T02:44:00.002+01:00

They're in the cramped room, it's almost getting stuffy but a storm is coming across the water and the rumble of thunder carries a cooling breeze with it. Some radio station is playing music that sounds like it came from a World War II movie and it was Jake's pick, Sam wonders how spent so many years just a few feet from him, listening to his breathing, and still finds so much about him so amazing and new. Jake is trying to sing along, a waste of time because the song's in French and of all his amazing talents Jake can't carry a tune to save his life, now he's remembering the upset boy being told how he made Handel sound like a plane coming apart in mid-air. Jake had sulked for days but apparently never completely gave up.
'Do ya trust me,' whispers Sam.
'Ya.'
'Really trust me, I won't hurt you,' and he won't, he's just...curious.
'Close your eyes,' he whispers, and peels off his brother's jeans, his hard-on standing full at attention, slowly pushing his legs apart.
'Relax,' instructs Sam, and Jake gasps a bit as he starts to explore, first one finger, and then Jake relaxes and it's two and three and his hand now, watching Jake sweat, his lips parting slowly as he moans, his teeth catching a white flash of light as his tongue darts out.
Sam clenches his fist and starts to massage him gently inside, Jake trying to play with himself, but no, no control allowed, Sam goes down on him and he can taste that he's close, so he goes a bit deeper in before slipping it out as fast as he dares, suddenly his mouth full as Jake cries out a bit and he swallows and starts to slip it out all the way but Jake rolls Sam over and pushes it back in, it's all Sam can do not to gag as more and cum shoots out, thrusting all the way back against his throat.
And then Jake is lying beside him, gasping, he lights a cigarette while Sam starts to jerk himself off and he's flicked a cherry right on his head, teh pain so intense he tries to jerk harder but Jake has plans, he can feel the lit end so close to him he thinks he smells something burning, but all he can feel is like floating, floating, doesn't even know what happened next except he feels drunk, before he can gasp for air, he's tasting a mouthful of himself mixed with nicotine and wine.

There's blood and a desire as yet unsaid.

2009-07-29T14:58:00.000+01:00

“no more fish ,no more fish say it Jake, no, more fish” and as Sam says it the last time Jake joins in and they both shout “NO MORE FISH” together and Jake falls back on the bed laughing and Sam dives on top of him and after a long kiss from Sam, Jake makes a show of whipping his mouth and says “urgghh, no more fish Sam, no more fish”. “Ah ya very funny fella” says Sam in his mock Chinese accent, “very, very funny falla, marry me, make me happy, one time mister” and now it’s Jakes turn to attack Sam and he pins him to the bed and as he kisses Sam, he feels Sam’s teeth come over his bottom lip and bite and there’s a taste of blood in Jakes mouth so he breaks from Sam and wipes his hand across his mouth and yeah there’s a trail of blood and saliva on his hand. “Careful Sam, you drew blood man you bite me and cut my lip” and Sam is shaken back to the here and now here with Jake, “ah sorry Jake, I didn’t mean too” and he watches as Jake walks to the bathroom to clean his lip up and as Jake walks away from him he watches his ass and wonders what his fist would feel like inside there.

Insomnia

2009-07-28T19:54:00.002+01:00

Sydney Thomson is kicking himself cuz he can't sleep. He's fumbled around the house twice, noticing offhandedly what a shambles it is, checking through empty beer cans to see if there is something to salvage, wondering why he is so obsessed.

Jake's just a kid. A kid who's already completely fucked up his life, and how can he even be thinking about trying to track him down anymore. Why? He's gotten him fired, interrogated by the local police who suggested not to subtly maybe he move to another town, and that freakshow bulldog of a man who belonged in a serial killer movie. With barely any effort the boy has completely derailed his life.

He needs a drink, that'll help him sleep, but there's nothing left so he forces himself to choke down some awful-tasting cough syrup before noticing his sister bought it so there's no alcohol in it. He's starting to think about vanilla before he stops himself, at least for now.

"Let him go," he says aloud, hoping that will work. "Just let him go."

But he's tossing and turning still and fuck it, he hits the vanilla which almost makes him puke, he'd imagined it might taste like vanilla ice cream but it's nothing close, but the alc in it works a bit, calms his nerves.

Sleep starts to come to him, slowly, and he hopes the hellspawn will leave his dreams alone, leave him alone forever, but somehow, he's not sure he's being completely honest with himself there.

Sydney

2009-07-28T14:56:00.004+01:00

"Sydney..Sydney Thomson, it's Marsh, where have you been man".
"Away for a few days, that's all, absolutely all, nowhere really" Sydney's answer belies the fact that he was imprisoned by some psychotic maniac who seemed to think he was mixed up with an international organ transplant gang involving that odious boy, the one whose photographs now lay burnt in his sisters garden bonfire.
"well" says Marsh down the line "I have just seen the most remarkable thing, here just outside Calais, Jake, shopping of all things, like he lives here, a very peculiarly picnic bag he had too".
"and" says Sydney in a world weary, beat up, life beat out of him kind of way.
"and, well, nothing" says Marsh.
Sydney replaces the receiver and tries not to think about the call.
But why would Jake be France of all places specially after those murders, why would Jake be in France surely he's required at home, funeral arrangements and the such and as Sydney starts to ponder thoughts of Jake return, his skin creamy white with public schoolboy red cheeks, the way he stood, his chest, thighs the way he laughed he wonders would he ever be free of thee boy and then he wonders does he want to be?

Town

2009-07-27T20:36:00.002+01:00

Jake swears and sweats in the sun, he had no clue France was so fucking hot and while Sam may be having more interesting things on his head atm all Jake can think of a is a giant ice cream cone. He finds the village after what seems like the longest, hottest 2km he's walked without a tree in site that was much taller than he was. An old couple is sitting on a bench, eating ice cream no less, and Jake thinks to himself how cute they are, how he hopes Sam and him will be like the someday, and then promptly eliminates the thought when the man stands up and pronounces to his wife that he's just loving Belgium, not realizing he's literally staring at a French flag. Stupid Americans, thinks Jake. He finds a currency exchange and is pleased when he gets twice as many bills back as he gave, wondering if it really is less expensive here. A simple grocery store and he's frozen in place at some sort of tart sitting in the window, it's gigantic and overflowing with several types of berries, it looks so good it practically gives him a hard-on. Inside, he gathers up a couple of those, some absolutely huge sandwiches with chicken and cheese. He quickly locates a couple of bottles of bitter lemon, and without thinking he picks up a bottle of wine as well. The man behind the counter says, non, non, and he suddenly realizes he probably should not be trying to buy wine, risky. But it turns out the man simply is directing him to a different bottle, which in broken English he says is better, cheaper, and best of all, a lot larger. He picks out some lemons with faith he will successfully capture some fish for supper, hopefully a less pissed-off fish, and the man insists on providing him with a picnic basket which Jake finds a little embarassing. but now he has the bitter lemon to keep him cooled down. He likes the newness of it, if someone had told Jake a few months ago he'd be excited about a picnic on the beach, he would've laughed himself to death, but it is nice and he feels happier now than he thinks he ever has.

Sam, his thoughts.

2009-07-27T16:10:00.001+01:00

Sam’s lying in bed trying to push these thoughts from his head, he doesn’t want them there, not after the incredible sex he and Jake have just had. Two hours of touching and being touched, two hours of feeling like the centre of the universe where everything had stopped to honour their love. Now Jake’s gone into town to get some food and coffee and Sam’s alone, alone with his thoughts, thoughts where he pulls Jake’s hair hard, back to expose his neck a neck to be bitten and sucked hard as his hands twist and puncture nipples with fingers and needles, his hands that twist and pull hard on Jakes balls, fingers, a fist that get pushed inside Jake. He shuts his eyes as if to close out these thoughts but the nightmares there behind his lids, he see’s Jake drugged, tied, arms pulled taught, every part of him vulnerable and exposed, exposed to Sam and his desires for blood and pain, he shoots his eyes open and for a split second his mind is thinking about the ceiling but then the thoughts return, damn it Sam.

A New Day

2009-07-25T14:40:00.003+01:00

A new day breaks over the boat, dark night slowly crawling along the deck to be replaced by a dull red from a new sun, then as it rises the clear colour of day is exposed bringing with it what?
Jake is awake and making notes in his head as to what needs to be done, accomplished, achieved and he's bursting for Sam to wake so he can tell him. As Sam stirs Jake runs to pour some coffee and no sooner has Sam opeened his eyes than there's a coffee beside him and Jake and houses, food, banks, maybe bikes.
"Jake, hold up will ya" Sam say's and takes a slug of coffee, "come here" and Jake sits on the edge of Sam's bed and Sam pulls him into a hard hug.
"Now what's with this list, house, bike, what else" and Jake starts his mantra list over again and Sam still can't quiet get his sleepy head round it all.
"What do you say Jake, if we just make it up as we go along, no plans, no back up just us, what do ya say"?
Jake leans back taking his weight on his arms,
"Thats kinda new and radical for me".
Sam laughs "yeah it would be, but what do you say, give it a go"?
and Jake realises he's only here, where he wants to be, with the person he most wants to be with because there was no plan, just a reaction to a series of events and he laughs and says "yup, but that kinda sounds like a plan to me", and they both laugh hard so hard Jake falls onto his back and as they lay top and tail Sam tickles Jakes feet and Jake tries to pull away but Sam has his weight across Jakes ankles so he can't pull away.
"No plan, right" says Sam increasing the pressure.
"No plan, apart from no plan, yeah" says Jake and Sam smiles and says "yeah no plan, apart from that plan Jake".

invisible in plain sight

2009-07-22T19:59:00.000+01:00

They made the crossing without the drama of the night before, except for a very large frigate that got much closer than Sam wanted it to, though Jake didn't seem to alarmed for some reason. The sun was bright and warm and Sam probably only got a bit freaked out because the ship that came close was just close enough to notice him lying out on the deck naked, nursing a beer, eyes closed.
"By the way, Sam, you got an audience," offers Jake, laughing, and Sam scrambles to his feet, probably a poor idea if he didn't want the 'audience' to see everything he had to offer. The crew of the ship is gathered against the rail, some with binoculars, and he can hear them laughing and see them waving, with no good options he just shrugs and waves back. Hope they enjoy the show, he says, and then decides to get Jake back for not warning him by dragging him onto to the deck and kissing him on the lips. That plan backfired, though, because apparently Jake likes the attention and pushes Sam's mouth open, kissing him, and now the laughter is broken up by cheering.
"Should charge them admission," mutters Sam, sitting down with another wave to their audience which gets some of the men to raise a Dutch flag over the side. "Eesh. You're gonna get us killed, Jake."
Later Jake finds a fishing pole and surprisingly something is stupid enough to bite the hook, a very large something judging by the effort Jake is putting in to not looking as if he's fighting with it while Sam laughs, and when he finally drags it on board, whatever he's caught is not happy at all and has big teeth.
Sam throws a sneaker at its head, which stuns it long enough that he can wrestle it into the cooler. They're sipping beers naked on the deck and watching the cooler jump around like it's haunted.
"I think I know how to clean it," offers Sam. He usually hates fish, but is feeling so guilty now that they have to make it for dinner.
And they find the comfort of land again, though they're both getting use to the sea a bit. It's a deserted beach in what he guesses must be France, there's and old sign on top of the short cliffs above them which is crumbling but indicates a town a few kilometers away. Jake is trying to get a fire going, he's got all the sticks arranged except for two that he's trying to rub together furiously to make fire.
"Uhm, Jake," says Sam.
"Shaddup, I'm getting it," growls Jake.
After about five minutes of the struggle, Sam laughs and takes out his lighter, quickly starting a fire from the dry grass on the bottom while Jake glares at him.
"You can clean the fish, then, asshole," says Jake, pretending to sulk and handing Sam the big knife from the boat. It's not a pretty process, thankfully the smoke keeps anything from flying too close to the butchery he's performing, and the sixty pound fish ends up being a few small pieces they pierce onto sticks and cook a little. It tastes really good, actually, Sam's never liked fish and hated being dragged by dad for fish and chips and 'little conversations about life,' but this tastes nothing like that, and just sitting here on the beach with Jake naked and munching away is nice.
They sit by the campfire and finish off the last beers, thankfully Jake was aware enough earlier to put them into a bag in the ocean off the side of the boat so this time they're cold and refreshing.
"I like this," says Sam, and he does, he's never felt so relaxed in his life, and they pile on top of each other in the small cabin of the boat and talk about tomorrow, getting up with the sun and visiting the village for some supplies, listening to the crackle of the dying campfire they built, full from the good fish and each other's company, alone under the night stars with the soft hiss of spent surf evaporating on the sand.

Brown Eyes and Winter Sun.

2009-07-22T14:55:00.004+01:00

"Come on Sam, wake up, we have to get out of here, off this Island"
Sam slowly comes too and the dirt digging into his back is a reminder of what's happened and where they are.
"why,whats the hurry".
"I've been out and looked around and we are on fucking Alderney, you know the Channel Islands where everyone knows everyone and news travels fast"
Sam stumbles to his feet, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"K Jake, good to go"and both boys walk away from the wartime turret, leaving its ghastly history intact for others to stumble across as they had done.
The sun slams into Sam's eyes and he raises his arm against it to shield his eyes.
"Now where" he asks Jake.
"The boat and then France I guess" says Jake.
Jake fires the boats engine and Sam pushes the boat away from the wall and jumps, he almost falls into the water and when he scrambles aboard Jake's laughing at him.
"Shape up Sam, shape up"
Sam laughs and flex's his muscles.
"latter" says Jake, "later" and he disappears into the cockpit where he studies a map of the shipping lanes and sets a course for France, well he thinks he does.
"coffee" Sam comes in with a tray, coffee and some old bisects.
"I've just about finished here" says Jake "lets go outside"
Sam takes the tray up the five steeps and sets it down on the long seat at the back of the boat.
They both drink the coffee and ignore the bisects.
Suddenly Sam looks up at Jake out of his dream and says
"I really wanted to die Jake and now I don't".
Sam looks at him, all vulnerable, sadness pouring from his deep brown eyes.
"I know Sam, I know, but now we gonna live OK". Jake looking deep into those brown eyes, almost falling into them.
Sam smiles and Jake thinks it's like winter when the sun hits your face for the first time in months and says
"good Sam, good, cos I wanna live along with ya".
and they watch as the water disappears under the boat, taking them where?

Alderney, the island of silence

2009-07-22T01:07:00.002+01:00

It was probably the worst awakening he'd ever experienced, because he woke up mid-air, seconds before slamming hard onto something in the dark and getting a face full of salt water right when he chose to gasp in surprise.
He struggled up, dizzy from the pitching of the boat, shivering and trying to not panic, and ran onto the deck where Jake had decided to try to deal with the situation himself. That was just Jake, who was barely a hundred-forty pounds soaking wet as he was then, and he looked terrified, something Sam hasn't seen in his eyes since the boy was maybe six. He's managed to take down the sail with minimal damage and now he's fumbling with the key.
"Do you know what you're doing!?!" yell Sam, feeling lunch, breakfast, and last night's dinner about to come flying up.
Jake doesn't answer, nor does he look very happy, but his head dips in relief when the engine comes on.
"Wave!" yells Sam, pointing wildly, "Fucking wave coming at us!" knowing there's a better way to tell his brother where it is, but Jake gets it and turns the wheel hard into it.
The wave keeps getting closer and bigger and Jake is fighting with the wheel and the throttle to try to turn her, and now Sam panics and throws all his weight against it. Their combined force turns the boat just in time, they smack into it more or less straight on. Jake sprawls to the ground and Sam gets a face full of the wheel, but all the bad visions of Poseidon Adventure appear to have been avoided for now. It's not a perfect result though, for a full minute he feels like the entire boat is pointed straight up and then airborne before it comes down hard on the backside, and he screams, feeling as if his arms are about yanked out of their sockets but sure as fuck not about to let go of the wheel. And then there's another, and another, and Sam is fighting to keep her aimed right into them while Jake keeps hitting the throttle as if that might make things better, kid's seen too many movies, thinks Sam, it isn't making a damned bit of difference.
"What the fuck is that?!?!" yelps Sam, it's a giant black shape almost dead in front of them, and he doesn't know the answer, just knows, don't hit it, and there's a slight scrape but they barely miss it. And suddenly more of them. And more. Rocks.
"Stop going so fucking fast!" he yells, not even sure if that's the right advice, but ever so sure that bumping into one of those is a bad thing. They're surrounded by them and suddenly the wind is gone, the waves go calm, even though the rain is coming down twice as hard now.
He hears a really strange noise, it sounds like birds or something, before realizing it's Jake laughing, blood trickling out of his nose and a ridiculous expression on his face.
"Land ho!" Jake yelps before cutting the throttle to almost nothing and falling to the deck, laughing hysterically.
Sam sees it now through sheets of rain, cliffs, big ones, and a sandy beach right ahead, he's never felt so relieved in his life. There's a crumbling old concrete building on the beach. Jake leaps to his feet and jumps right into the water, killing the engine and dragging the boat to shore like a possessed demon until they're safely on the sand.
Sam is more than happy to get off of the boat and stumble with his brother to the shelter of the old concrete building, out of the rain, grabbing a cooler from the boat they never checked which he hopes has food in it.

The concrete building has the feel of doom about it. Water trickles down from strange huge holes in the structure. He plops down the cooler, and opens it.
"Unless we're going to a beach party, this isn't helpful," he says, staring at several dozen cans of beer.
Sam feels haunted by this place, and soon he starts to understand why. He kicks over a trunk by accident and in archaic print the words "Fleischkonserve" leap off of a bunch of old round tins that spill out of it.
"My god," he says, he can only understand what this is because he studied German, and Jake looks at him with curiosity.
"They're rations from the Second World War for German soldiers," says Sam, and he sits down in the dust to study one, now noticing that just underneath the muddy floor are dozens of empty shell casings of all sizes, and a curious white thing is poking up from a dirt-crusted backpack next to him.
"Rations is food, right?"
"Well, yeah, just, I don't know if they're still safe to eat."
"I'm starving," pronounces Jake.
He opens the army-issue backpack, and finds a crumbling diary of some kind, the words in it too blurred for him to read in that alphabet, but the white thing poking up says it all, a young man in a Wehrmacht uniform, looking proud and scared who might be seventeen if that. Something in his eyes seems so sad. He shows it to Jake, who looks but doesn't speak, he struggles with his Swiss army knife against a tin before it opens with a pop, sniffs it, and tastes a little bit.
"Don't eat that!"
Jake makes a face. "It tastes like shit but it doesn't taste spoiled. Give me a beer, quickly, please..."
Sam tries a little of it while opening beers for them. "Ugh," he says, drowning the taste with the beer, but Jake is right, it just tastes like dirty feet, not like rotten food. And he realizes just how hungry he is, and they dig in, nothing like a meal of sixty-year old soldier food and warm beer.
"I think that used to be chicken," says Jake, and Sam laughs.
The rain is easing some and he's feeling full, but not sick, thankfully, and now he's sipping his beer and trying to read the diary while Jake studies the photo.
"He looks so scared," Jake says.
"He's writing something here about his true love or something, I think, it's damned hard to read. 'Fate brought us together, and fate brought me here, and if fate so chooses for us we will be together again soon, but I believe we are fated to be together in eternity without regard.'"
Jake says, "True. Want another beer?"
"Yes. I mean, I'm just trying to translate what he wrote down here."
"Dated 14 October, 1944, 'We are lost here but the commanders will not accept it. I hope my words reach you through the ether and we shall join hands again someday in the not too distant future, in a place without all this death and war.'"
Jake has lost interest, though, now he's poking around through the mud himself.
"Fuck," he says, and Sam looks up to see him holding a tattered piece of cloth with two gleaming lightning bolts on it. In his other hand is a pistol, something Sam has only seen in war movies, and his sneaker has just kicked a gleaming skull with an unmistakable round hole in the side of it.
Thunder rumbles.
Jake looks scared, and Sam hugs him to make his brother feel better, but now he's wondering how many skeletons and bullets are under the mud they have no choice but to sleep on tonight.

Adrift

2009-07-21T14:39:00.003+01:00

"Jake, where are we going" says Sam who is just starting to understand he's on a boat somewhere in the English Channel.
"France, Belgium, whichever we hit first" says Jake.
"don't you know then"
"well its kinda guess work but what does it matter" says Jake.
"what will we do when we get there" Sam asks.
"continue Sam, continue".
"with what"
"our affair, our lives, our journey".
"but to where" Sam still not understanding.
"anywhere man, anywhere, what does it matter".
"but Jake, you re always the man with the plan" Sam says laughing.
"I have a plan, I just told you, anywhere, anyhow".
Jake undresses and Sam smiles at him as does.
The two boys, brothers naked, adrift.
"this is how my life has felt for years" says Sam and Jake takes his hand and holds it and says
"and now it feels like this, is that any different?
and Sam lays his head on his brothers chest and smiles and says "much different Jake, much".
"I'm glad then" says Jake.
"Jake I wonder what happened back at the cottage, I thought I heard sirens when I was throwing up".
"don't know, don't care" says Jake.
"No neither do" I says Sam.
and they drift, the only sounds are water hitting the boat as it moves through the smooth sea, the wind in the sail and each others breathes, but Sam thinks he hears a distance voice saying careful Sam, careful.

Open water

2009-07-19T20:34:00.004+01:00

It lasts all of five minutes. Then Sam yells, 'pull over pull over fuck!' and Jake is using his mobile trying to act like he's talking on it and pulled over for that reason, not because Sam is projectile puking out of the side of the car. He's about to give up that illusion when something like ten police cars come screaming by.
He hits the radio.
"...casualties in a domestic dispute, resulting in a standoff with police. The suspect is armed with a rifle..."
"Oh, fuck me," he says, remembering the display case with the rifle in it. "Fuck me."
He kicks the dashboard hard, it's all coming apart, and the glovebox falls open and fuck if just maybe Sharon might have thought about helping them before she got the better of herself. Their passports are there, plus there's a big envelope in it with a lot of quid.
"Fuck me," he says, and Sam is wiping his mouth.
"Fuck me," he repeats, sweating. They'll be tracking the licenseplate of the car any minute now.
He runs around to the side, hopping over Sam's puke, and thank god it poured the rain, checks to see if there's cars coming, scoops up the muddy ground and tosses it all over the car, frantic, almost to the point where it barely looks like a VW.
"What the fuck are you doing," says Sam, finally starting to get over the sickness, though it's pretty obvious he's in the clouds.
Jake has the address, ten miles, it's the middle of the day on a Monday so they should be mostly alone, and he starts to GPS it before it occurs to him the damn thing is a homing beacon so he rips it out, smashing it. He knows more or less what direction to go and just guns it, right into a bunch of thick shrubbery, but then there's a dirt road and open sky. He's done damage, that's for sure, like six lights on the instrument panel are telling him to stop, pretty sure he wiped out the oil pan at least. But there's only a few miles to the docks their 'friend' Peter, who's prolly lying in his own blood atm, told them about, and under pressure of a few dozen vodkas with Sam, they know where the key is hidden.
Sam is laughing, he can't stop, and it's starting to piss Jake off. There's no one around, just a few sad boats and their target, a boat maybe forty feet long give or take.
"You know how to sail?" asks Sam, drooling a bit and laughing again.
"Of course," lies Jake, who has only been on a boat once, on a pond, and got so sick he puked himself. It's now or never, though, and he isn't being patient, he grabs the wad of cash and the passports and stuffs them into a bag with all the pills they stole and takes the jack from the trunk and drops it onto the accelerator and slips the car into drive and the Phaeton takes off like a rocket, bouncing off a pier before flipping over and disappearing into the sea.
Nothing like shutting down options, he thinks, but there's no time to think, and Sam is useless.
Fuck this bad planning. He struggles to pick Sam up, and fuck, stop laughing, dammit, tossing him into the cabin of the boat.
To be stopped by a knot is embarassing, but he's just staring at it, now, trying to figure out how the hell someone tied this thing up. Finally he figures it out and is a bit shocked when the boat seems to get a mind of its own and starts to peel away, he leaps at it, just barely catching it while losing a tooth, clawing his way onto it. A sail swarps overhead, almost knocking him out, and for a minute he just tries to hold it the right way before realizing he can control it from from a lever.
"Fuck, fuck," Jake says. This isn't how things go for Jake. He's supposed to know this shit well before it happens, and he's sweating like crazy, now he's sort of figured it out but the boat is getting tossed up and down and he has to puke over the side.
The port is way back there behind them, disappearing now, a speck, and nothing in front, and he's got it trained to west-southwest, by the compass at least it should be aiming that way. The chop calms, then, and the sail stretches its legs and now it's moving fast, where, he isn't sure, just away.
He stops and wipes the sweat off his face, the sun burning him but he doesn't care, it's just fresh air and salted spray and he drags Sam off the cabin floor to experience it.
He strips off his T-shirt and then all of it, and Sam looks at him with a strange expression, starting to realize that he's on a boat in the middle of the ocean and Jake is acting a little insane.
For once, Jake has just realized, he has no control over any of it, and it's the best feeling he's ever had.

Play The Stakes Sam, Play The Stakes

2009-07-19T15:54:00.000+01:00

Jacob senior sits, gloves on, holding the gun, think man, think, but the earlier absinthe
is making him drowsy, no ones going anywhere soon he figures so he places the gun beside him and lays out on the sofa.
Five miles away Sam barrels the VX down a country road going where? Neither he nor Jake Jr have a plan as yet, the only plan is to put some distance between them, Mum, the Dr dude and Dad, beyond that there’s no plan and that bothers Jake Jr bothers him a lot, he always has a plan, a back up plan and then some more.
“stop Sam, stop” Jake Jr shouts above the engine, Sam brings the car to a halt. Jack Jr gets out and walks to the boot,
“pop it Sam will ya”
Sam pushes a button on the dash and the booth pops open. Jake takes out the plastic bag they loaded the pills and scripts into, slams the boot and walks back to the passenger seat.
“Sam ya gotta trust me on this one OK, but I promise, I absolutely promise it’s gonna be safe and it’s gonna make us for life OK, me and you, together, forever man, promise, OK” and he leans across and kisses Sam.
Sam breaks the kiss.
“yeah, course, anything, for you, me, us right Jake”
“anything, never parted OK, Sam, promise” and as he talks he undoes the top of a plastic bottle of water, holds the bottle between his knees and pulls out of the plastic bag the percocet, xanax, thorazine and valium they took from the Doctors house. He tips out six of each into his hand and starts to grind them into a power.
“what you doing?” says Sam.
As Sam questions him, Jake tips the powdered pills into the plastic bottle, replaces the top and shakes, the clear water clouds.
“look Sam, this is safe, totally safe Ok, I’m not gonna let this go bad, but we have to maximise this opportunity, get Dad onside and Sharon and the Doctor outta the picture forever, Dad’s the weak link here, Sharon’s the fucking danger to us and possibly that Doctor, right”?
“yeah I guess” say’s Sam.
“so this is the plan, you’re gonna drink this, then we gonna drive back to the Doctors and park up and as you get drossy I’m gonna haul ya ass inside, Dad will WTF it, and I’ll tell him that between them, Sharon and the good Doctor drugged you and forced me to kiss you and shit”.
“that’s mad” says Sam.
“gotta a better plan“, says Jake.
“no, but”
“look Sam, your problem has always been, the stakes, you never play the stakes, higher the stakes the bigger the reward, for once Sam, play the stakes”. and with that he shakes the bottle at Sam.
Sam holds out his hand for the bottle and as he does Jake puts his arm around him.
“its gonna work Sam, believe me, its safe”.
Sam slugs the contents in one.
“good man“, says Jake, now back to the house.

Consequences

2009-07-19T13:26:00.003+01:00

"Im not comfortable with this," whispers Sam, "I mean, mom knowing and all."
"Don't worry 'bout it," whispers Jake, "In about sixty seconds, I'm gonna push you really hard against that bookshelf."
"What? Why?"

"So," Sharon said, and Cardiff is coming back to her now, back before all the drugs and that "strategic marriage" of hers, "How have you been?"
She's only half-paying attention to the camera. It will take her sons a few minutes to get somewhere damaging, anyways, at this point it isn't even close to Ofcom's "watershed" content, and, to be honest, Peter is looking quite handsome, his sideburns flecked with grey, and he's a doctor, I mean after being stuck with a copier salesman all this time, that's food for thought.
"It's drafty in this old house," she says, wincing at the bad excuse to close the door on the room they're in.
He looks at her, uncertain.
"I was married, you know, Sharon. She died. I have a son."
"Don't we all," she says, glancing at Sam and Jake doing some sort of roughhousing, laughing, and wonders if it's a little off that she finds it somehow erotic. It must just be Peter, the love of her teenage years, the only light in that existence in the 'Estates,' what a name for that horrible place.
She leans in and tries to kiss him, which he dodges.

"Trust me," whispers Jake again, and presses a hand against Sam's stomach, Sam looks down and sees the 'VW' logo glinting in the dim light on the key.
"What are you going to-"
Before he can complete his phrase, Jake pushes him, hard, which, even though he was warned, knocks him right off his feet, into the bookshelf with a crash.
"Owwww, why'd you do that!?"
But Jake has dragged him to his feet and pulling him so hard he thinks his arm is about to come off.

Sharon is peering into Peter's eyes, and it's starting to make the man a little uncomfortable. The feelings just aren't what they were, god, that hurts, how many years ago was that? And she just up and disappeared on him one day. He cried for weeks because of that, and now she just re-appears, thinking somehow fate must be at work? No, things don't work out like that.
"Shit," he said.
"What?" she replied with a giggle, but then notices he's looking at the TV. Static.
"No, the wiring must be wet, it's not quite put tog-"
There was a loud click.
"What was that?" she asked him.
They look at each other and then at the door.
"Shit," he repeats.
And the voice from the other side.
"The next time you plan on hiding a camera...turn off the fucking red light, ya stupid fuck! We trusted you...you dumb bitch."
Peter rushes to it and pounds on it, stupidly demanding they open the door, like, only in the movies would someone actually be stupid enough to open it, and this is a solid oak door, could throw a pissed-off gorilla at it and it wouldn't break. No windows, just the door, and they were stuck.

"Pay dirt!" says Jake. He's found the 'stash' - several dozen bottles, percocet, xanax, thorazine, valium, everything.
Sam is standing there dumbfounded when he notices another box of pills.
"What are these for?"
Jake reads the label, puzzled, finds a book and starts flipping through it.
"Shit, that's even better."
Jake's mind is churning, he wishes he'd noticed this earlier, these prescriptions are all written from the Doctor to himself, or his wife...would've been prime blackmail material.
"What?"
"This is all anti-cancer shit, not even legal in this country anymore. You know how much we could sell this for? And I'm not saying we should sell it here, there's countries we could get to where one or two of these bottles would pay for us to live for a year!"
"Let's get out of here before they get out," said Sam, feeling vaguely queasy, this wasn't how he wanted any of this to go at all, why the fuck did his mom try to pull that shit? Jake was every bit the son of Sharon and all the baggage that came with it, and was it a good thing Sam was in love with him? I mean, what the fuck could she possibly have done to make them so...evil to each other? Was Jake just playing him for fun, too? Where would it end?
"Not yet. One more thing to do."
"What? Why? Let's just get the fuck out of here."

Jacob Sr. is nursing a headache. He's not sure this absinthe isn't like every other relationship in his life. He drinks a little, it gives him a pounding headache, he drinks a bit more, it goes away and feels pleasant for a bit. He's starting on his third glass when the mobile buzzes in his pocket, scaring him so bad he knocks over his drink.
"Jake? Are you okay? Where are you!?"
He listens to the other end of the conversation in disbelief.
"You're okay...unh-huh...Sharon did what?!...where?!...wait...how can I find you...what do you mean you think it's better if...you have the VW? What?...wait...let me come get - the address? okay..."
He waves at the bartender for a pen and starts scribbling furiously.
"Why?...Jake, I'm worried about you and Sam...you're sure...really sure?? Jesus. Jesus fucking christ, she forced you and Sam to...what?!?!!...fine, stop yelling, fine...just promise me...you'll call me every day...and be safe, okay? Jake? Jake?"
He throws his money on the bar, thanking the bartender.

His blood is boiling. Not to mention the bitch took the VW so he has to stuff himself in the Mini, not a nice experience for a man his height, and thirty minutes later he's found it, a rundown little shack in the middle of nowhere, condoms everywhere, a few empty bottles of wine, glasses with lipstick on them, and...pills all over the place, from Sharon's bottle of valium it looks like. It looks like they must have really been enjoying themselves.
The man, whomever he is, must have a Firearms Certificate, there's a rifle in the case and the head of some unlucky animal stuck above the mantle, ghastly, thinks Jacob, barbaric, and his vision is starting to blur with rage. The bitch has been stepping out on him with this guy, yet she blames Jacob for their marriage? And making Sam and Jake do that...disgusting thing. He flips his mobile open and starts to dial '9-9-9' but, no, there's a rifle right there and justice just a few feet away, besides, if the police get involved, they'll try to find Jake, he'll have to testify about what she did, and he can't do that to his boys. They deserved so much better for parents.
He hears Sharon and her 'friend' banging on the door, just like Jake said they would be.
Time to even out the score and end all of this for once and for all. Conveniently, the man has his hunting gloves right next to the rifle, and he puts them on, trying to think if he touched anything, glad he was smart enough to park the Mini round back, glad it's pouring the rain and dark out.

Sharon Her Sons And A Ghost From Her Past.

2009-07-19T10:55:00.005+01:00

Sharon's conflicted in three ways she can immediately think of.
The drugs from Pain Garden are still thrashing her system and she zoning, Sam and Jake and that kiss, what was that? and then there's Peter, how long ago was that?
She lights a cigarette cos it's gonna buy her some time.
She lights and inhales and as she does every ones looking at her, she's aware of being studied, she throws her head back and lets out a long stream of smoke from her lips and inhales again, the awkwardness intensifies, your call Sharon thinks and she exhales.
"Sam, Jake go inside a wait for a minute will you".
The boys turn.
"no wait" they stop and turn towards her.
"I take it you have been at the cottage"?
Sam looks at Jake to answer, better if Jake answers, he has a way about him that will cut through this angry indifference.
Jake smiles and steps towards his mother.
"yes we were there for a day and then these locals turned up drunk looking for trouble and there was a fight, Sam got us out and we came here and called you".
"ahemmm, soo glad" Sharon says in her best southern states American accent, she only uses in times of extreme sarcasm. She inhales again.
The boys look down.
"ahhh see and are you two an item now, I mean the kiss looked more than brothers"
Sharon knows an advantage when she sees it and any hold over Jake is not to be sniffed at.
"Mum", Jake says and nods towards Dr Peter, whoever he is.
Jake's assessment which is razor sharp tells him her hold over him can't last if he can dig out this Mum and Peter thing.
"Peter do you have a room the boys could go too, I need to talk to you". Sharon ssays taking command.
Peter looks away from the boys and says"sure, first right off the landing, upstairs".
"well Sharon says looking at her sons, off you go".
They walk into the house and up the stairs, into a spare bedroom.
"shit, shit, shit, she knows" says Sam.
Jake walks towards him, takes him in his arms, kisses his lips softly and says
"and"?
Sam pulls away, "she knows about us"
"as I said, and"? Look Sam, don't sweat it, Sharon's a fuck up, she's not going to hold power for too long believe me" Jake takes his brother back into his arms, pulling him close and kisses him again, this time longer and with the passion of lovers anew.
Sharon sits on a long five seater sofa, Peter is opposite her in a leather high backed chair.
"this is awkward" she says.
"don't see why" says Peter, "that was a long time ago".
"the younger one, Jake has a passion for power like you don't know" Sharon says.
"can I"? says Sharon as she pulls another cigarette from the pack she has been holding since she arrived.
Peter gets up, fetches an ashtray and places it beside her on the sofa and sits again.
"did you send them to the room with the cameras in"? Sharon asks.
"yes" says Peter grinning.
"lets see then" says Sharon shifting in her dress.
Peter picks up a remote and turns on the flat screen on the wall.
They both watch as Jake and Sam kiss, then Jake breaks away and walks to the door, opens it, listens and then closes it again, he walks back to Sam who is stood frozen and again takes him in his arms and kisses him and as he does he runs his hands over Sam's body and Sam as he is kissed places his hands on the small of Jake's back and pulls him closer.
"Interesting" says Sharon, can you record this by any chance"?
and Peter picks up the remote and pushes a button and small red light comes on.

Coming home?

2009-07-18T19:40:00.003+01:00

Sharon curses to herself under her breath while smiling at the valet and tips him generously, hoping he doesn't notice that she's concentrating way too hard on putting one foot in front of the other, and the pain is shooting up her spine something fierce. As soon as she pulls away from the nondescript building, safely out of view, she fumbles with the cap on the Diazepam and sucks down a couple, cursing because she drops the cap and all she can do now is keep driving with a giant illegal bottle of valium sitting in the cup holder like a cup of Starbucks. She lights a cigarette and drops that, too, scorching her dress before it rolls onto the floor, by instinct she bends over to get it and bangs her eye on the wheel.
Of course this is making the VW Phaeton swerve wildly and wouldn't you just know it, there's a policeman right behind her. Now she's really starting to panic, throwing the valium into an empty bag from some godawful fast food place her sort-of-husband liked to stuff his face in, just in time.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" asks the officer.
"Why, yes, sir, why wouldn't I-"
But she catches a glimpse of her face in the mirror, which doesn't look so good at all, the bruise from the steering wheel already starting to swell up.
And she knows how to play this, looking down as if she's scared of this idiot in his ridiculous uniform.
"Please don't call this in officer. My husband will find me, I mean, find out, if you do."
He steps back, peering at her, trying to judge if she's lying, and Sharon knows that means she's got him, when a man tries to figure out if she's lying, he's done for.
"Where are you going?"
Trying to get control of the situation. Good luck with that one, idiot.
"I'm, I'm,"
Now the cop is starting to realize she doesn't want anyone to know where she's going. The man who did this to her eye can do much worse if he finds her, and it's his turn to look down.
"Look, ma'am, you were driving erratically, and, well-"
"I dropped my cigarette," she says, rushing the words out and trying to keep the frightened expression consistent.
He nods, pretending to take stock of the situation, looking up and down the road even though there's not a single car on it.
"Very well," he says at last. "This time, I'll let you go. But go and get that eye looked at."
He hesitates.
"If you want me to help you with your, your, situation," he starts.
"I don't think you can, Officer," she says, and that's enough for him. He nods and then he's gone and she's fumbling with the GPS, her wits enough together now that the valium is working to realize she has no idea where the hell she's going.
She presses "avoid major highways" without a second thought. She should not be driving in this condition. And two hours and ten minutes later she finds herself on a dirt road that's more out in the country than she ever believed possible in Britain, at least these days, and there's the address, which of course has the same damn highway she was on right behind it, probably thirty minutes from where she had turned off to avoid another run-in with the police.
She steps out, still a little unsteady, and drops her purse and everything because she sees Jake and Sam, kissing each other, and not in a way normal brothers would, alone in their world, hidden from the highway and the house, not expecting her to come up from some farm road.
Jake looks up, a little shocked at first, but he smiles, even though she can see stitches across his forehead and an ugly bruise.
"Hey ma," he says, and it strikes her as even more odd that this spawn of hers she had always been a little afraid of, manipulative, vindictive, angry all the time, now he seems...happy. Something makes her mind tell her to sit down without even considering there's nothing to sit on, and she lands hard in the dirt.
"Moms," says Sam, and he hasn't called her that for at least two feet of his height, "we need help. We need your help, and we need it bad."
She can't find words, dammit, Sharon, you picked a hell of a time to be stoned off of your ass, not even really conscious she's still sitting in the dirt looking up at her sons, and even better is that the Doctor they refer to pops his head around the corner, having heard the voices, and she feels like she's in one of those movies where the background zooms in on the character because, damn it...
"Peter? Is that, is that...you? Oh my god."
He stops and his eyes flash in recognition.
The memories flood back and she feels as if she's right back there, even the accent she spent years trying to smooth out is bubbling up in her throat like a lunch of live snails.
"Sharon? Sharon Davies? From Fairwater Estates?"

Sharon

2009-07-18T10:09:00.002+01:00

Sharon, feels what, after three days at Pain Garden and fistfuls of pills not a lot she guesses. It's like void land, no pain, no emotion, just shut off the ring of her mobile sends her into a little trance and then she realises where the sounds coming from looks at the screen, number unknown.
"Sharon"
"Sam?..... where, at a doctors house, you alright"?
Sharon slugs at a litre bottle of still French water, which for some reason she thinks is gonna help repair her body.
"pick you up"?
Sharon considers her options, which are zero, she's a well paid PA to these little brat's Dad and what? How's she gonna say No.
"OK, when"
she slugs another shot of water.
"now"
she sighs deep.
"K.......OK, I said OK, Sam, just chill a little"
somethings not right here, she thinks.
"where's your car Sam"
she pulls the phone away from her ear as Sam blasts some language her way.
"OK, Sam address?......, an hour or so I guess".
She writes the address down and reads it back to Sam.
"now...OK...now, I'm gonna start now Sam, so just stop with the shouting, on my way, bye"
and she shuts down the call, picks up her car keys and sets off to pick the little fuckers up.

stitches.

2009-07-10T04:24:00.002+01:00

He had to hold Jake's hand while the doc stitched him up, after thirty minutes of arguing all Sam did was find the man's freezer and sure enough there was vodka in it so he gave Jake a big chug and another and another and he brushes his hair and tells the doc, "Okay."
And he holds his hand, it's been too soon for the vodka to really help a lot, and the doc pauses and sees Sam's eyes and knows a hospital is going to happen over his dead body and he sighs and drops some more vodka on the cut, and Sam is holding Jake's hand and his little brother practically breaks his fingers while the doctor starts to stitch it up.
And he tells Sam to leave Jake, let him get some rest, and the doc takes off his glasses and looks at Sam's eyes, and maybe thirty years or more separates them but he can tell Sam's mind is trying to get there fast so he asks him what he's going to do and Sam just starts to cry before he stops himself.
"Look, son," the man says, and Sam sees some sort of disappearance in his eyes when he says that last word, some loss.
"Yeah?"
"I should never have done this, I mean, y-"
"Do you believe in love, Doctor?"
And the man looks down and Sam knows he's holding back something, and all the doc says is, "I'm a man of science. Medicine."
There's a long pause there while the man stands and paces before he takes the vodka and pours them each a glass and he puts his hand on Sam's face, gentle-like, and Sam is thinking, uhmmm, okay, what does he expect.
"You look just like him," the Doc finally says, and Sam knows when to shut up. "He jumped on a ship headed for Mexico a year and a half ago last week, and I never heard from him again, then his mother died three months ago..."
Sam doesn't know what to say except sorry, but before he can get it out the man has a picture of a kid who looks just slightly older than Jake, and he's crying and grabs Sam's hand and Sam just jumps on instinct before giving him a hug, and now this man who should be so much more grown up than he is starts to cry like a baby, and tells them, he's not working at the hospital anymore, he lost that desire when she died and all he wants is to know Jackson is safe and maybe when Jake is well enough they could try and find him and tell him Dad loves him and if he wants come home...
And Sam just nods and lets him cry a bit, and the man mumbles something about 'whatever it takes' and he's gone, and he turns to Jake, who's stretched out on a few blankets on a wide table that turned into a stretcher for now, and he climbs up there with him, careful not to wake him, hoping Jake doesn't kick like usual cuz he's gonna wind up on the floor if so, and looks up, and it's a skylight overhead and he stares up there, all those stars, all those worlds, and wonders if they will belong in any of them.

run.

2009-07-02T18:38:00.003+01:00

They've hurt Jake, is the first thing Sam thinks and he doesn't know how badly. But the big fat one in front of him gurgles a laugh and raises the bottle to his lips and what happens next is so fast yet seems to go slow, it's all fuck-self-preservation-they-hurt-my-little-brother, and he wriggles an arm free and slams his hand into the bottom of the bottle, forcing the bottle and its contents an impossible distance into the man's mouth. Another gurgle as the man throws his hands up, he's a fat man and losing his balance means bad things will happen.
The other hand holding him lets go and he hears a yell of surprise as fat man slips, and not in the right direction, it's a good ten feet down to the stream behind him, boots frantically struggling to regain his drunken balance, but he's already drowning in a half gallon of whisky, and he disappears from sight, and the man behind Sam yelps out a name with a tone that only a brother can produce, and chases right after him, his mind just as blank as Sam's with fear, so blank he doesn't know or care the stream might be only a couple of feet deep there, so shallow there is barely a splash wherever he landed, just an ear-piercing scream of pain and thrashing.
Sam has the bottle and turns, Jake is blinking, but not aware enough to do anything to help, so Sam swings the bottle at the man holding him, this isn't like the movies, no, the bottle doesn't break, but something else goes crack really loud, something very bad, and the man's eyes start to fill with red before they roll back and he drops the ground, a rewarding trickle of death running from his lips. The fourth one stares at Sam, looking like he can't decide whether to fight or run or maybe he's just wondering if there's any Whisky left in the bottle. Sam's adrenaline is rushing now, and the man takes off into the woods.
Now all he can think about is Jake, who's stumbling a little now, and if the scrawny one is going to come back with more of them, and he picks his brother up, thinking to himself he hasn't picked him up like this since the boy broke his toe at soccer practice, and all he can think to do is run, back to the cottage, out of this place, away from this hateful world. He hopes the fat man drowned and pictures him trying to claw his head above the water in the soft slippery mud, hopes his mind is filling up with the rule of 3's, just three minutes is all he has, and hopes his half-breed brother shattered his legs, hopes they all die slow and painful, for hurting his love.
And he's running, he has their money and their clothes and dresses Jake, who's stumbling all over the cottage, dazed, and all he can think is run, like they talked about, run, somewhere no one will ever find them, and then they're on the road, almost into the path of a white BMW which swerves, because, well the man behind the wheel didn't expect two boys covered in mud to scramble out of the woods.
The man in a gray pinstriped suit leaps out of the car, seeing Jake, his slurring and mumbling.
"Please, sir, please, my brother, he's hurt," and Sam has enough presence of mind to not give details, just keeps repeating himself over and over before the man puts a hand firmly on his shoulder and says in a voice so calm and quiet, "I'm a doctor. I can help your brother."
And he tells Sam to put him in the car, keep Jake awake, his house only a few miles away, just keep him awake is all you have to do, and Sam is crying so hard the man speeds up. He's starting to feel calmer and now wonders what they've chosen, a life full of random terible and random lucky things, and knows he wouldn't have it any other way as he gently brushes Jake to keep him from falling asleep.

Whiskey dreams

2009-07-02T14:08:00.005+01:00

Jake and Sam don't wanna move. The stream, the Sun, their new found appreciation for each other combine in an intoxicating mixture. The joy they're feeling is almost too good. Jake playfully grabs at Sam, tickling him relentlessly for a moment. Sam responds by attacking back. The feelings of playful affection have a new edge to them. Something new and forbidden intensifies the feelings of joy mixed with something else. It's uncontrollable, this feeling. Sam knows others would judge them calling it wrong. He simply can't stop himself from remembering things he'd thought about and dismissed in the past. His body responds in memory of the things always left unsaid and anticipation of things that are, and will be. He grasps at Jakes hand, but to no avail,in a half hearted attempt to gain an advantage. Jake responds by taking control and nailing him to the streambed pinning him down on his back with his own weight. Sams own excitement obvious to them both Jake decides it's time for an other round. Where is this energy coming from? he wonders. Neither of them got much sleep last night. Sam looks into his eyes in curious wonder. A million and a half thoughts in his mind; desire to continue naked in his eyes.
Suddenly things just aren't right. A crashing noise as a fawn breaks through the brush upstream shatters their perfect world in an instant. The hair on Sams arms stands at attention. For no reason whatsoever Sam is terrified. Something primal causes him to pause, a single finger to Jakes lips. The unspoken demand for silence palpable between them. Fight or flight is demanding that he decide, though he's unsure why, or what's causing it. The skin on the back of his neck prickles through him into Jake, they feel eyes upon them, though from where they can't tell. Suddenly from beside them their dread is confirmed to have a reason.
"Well, what d'ya reckon we've got here lads?" demands a loud and cruel voice. "Looks like we've caught a couple of girls frolickin idn't it boys?"
The look of fright frozen on Jakes face forces Sam to look in that direction reluctantly. The sight before his eyes sends even more chills up his spine. He shudders involuntarily while looking into an sadistic pair of ice blue eyes.... and an other... and an other... and an other. The last pair was brown not blue, but every bit as drunk, and evil, and mean. "I told ya we'd find somethin to do out here boys" the one who'd spoken before almost crowed with glee. Grinning lopsidedly he takes a pull off the bottle before handing it to one of the others. Looking like something out of a nightmare there stands before them these four. They probably would get on just fine with in a different time and place. Sam quickly glances from one pair of eyes to an other in a futile attempt to find some kind of aquittal. Thing is he's not finding it. They're all trashed, too far gone to really have any kind of sense. A feeling of dread prickles hot all over his skin as his heart misses about twenty three beats. Nausea overwhelms him for the realization that they can't possibly get away in time. He could maybe make it, or maybe Jake, but no way would they both get away. Fear of things that hadn't even begun turned the warm water in the stream to ice. Moving faster than any drunk should suddenly the two of them are being pulled dripping wet out of the stream. Sam is suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of cheap whiskey wafting off the breath of the face that's suddenly much too close for any sort of comfort. "Alright girls, looks like we're gonna join your little party!" slurs the voice, behind him now. He's being held from behind and can't see Jake. But he can hear him threatening them, then suddenly there's the thud of a fist hitting something soft yet hard at the same time, and Jake goes quiet.....

Sydney and Sydney

2009-07-01T01:03:00.003+01:00

The sack is pulled off of his head, and his heart is pounding so much he can barely breath except to sputter, "Who are you and what do you want with me?"
The other man, who has just introduced himself as Sydney, looks at him with an unblinking stare, the posture of a pouncing pit bulldog, and says, almost as if it were an afterthought, "Sydney Thomson, may I call you Sydney, I know, it's going to be confusing, but haven't you ever watched the court shows on television, what they tell a barrister never to do?"
"No."
"Never ask a question if you aren't fairly sure of the answer."
"I am a citizen of the UK. I have rights. You have no reason to detain me."
"Well, that may very well be true if we were the police. However, I think," and he fingers the prepay Sydney stole from Jake Jr., "I think they would have plenty of reason as well. But before we get to that point, you have some explaining to do."
"Explain what? The same person who set me up with those phone calls, the one who's phone you're holding? It's all a fraud. None of it is real."
"Jacob Junior?"
Sydney notices he doesn't surrender a last name and that makes him more nervous than ever before he can only say, "Yes."
"You see, I know the young man in question. He is-" checking his watch "-about eighteen hours away from being declared a missing person, and the last information we have puts his mobile phone a few miles from your house."
"What are you accusing me of??"
The bulldog pounces, right in his face, and with a snarl, "If you hurt so much as a hair on that boy's head, you will suffer a death so-"
"I have a heart condition, please!" yells Sydney, "I'm cooperating!"
"You say you are cooperating, but you really aren't, are you?"
"What?"
"I have all the files from the school, yes, we got those quite easily, where you recommended Jacob Junior as an, and I'm quoting here, 'outstanding addition to the student body with great potential,' right?"
"Well as a matter of fact I did, and-"
"Now according to this you met with him alone, let's see, three times, before even meeting with his parents? Is that, is that procedure, is that normal, I mean, not just for you, but in general?"
Sydney nods.
"I mean, this would ordinarily be a matter for the local police, but now that we have all of these calls to Dubai, Islamabad, let's see, Tbilisi, the list goes on, not to mention that nice trick of a frequent call to a pre-paid mobile in a port city, well, you see where this is going, right, Sydney?"
"He approached me!"
"He approached you?"
"Yes, because it was either this school or the military school-"
"Something wrong with the military school?"
Sydney Thomson feels his chest tightening.
"I have done nothing wrong," he says.
"Oh, there isn't any need to tell me that, I mean, trust me, we'll find out."
A long uncomfortable silence while the interrogator taps something onto his own mobile phone.
"So now what?"
"Are you going to keep asking questions you don't want to know the answer to, you arrogant ass? The local police will begin processing your house, as well as this phone which contains some pictures of Jacob Junior I wish I had never seen, on top of everything else incriminating about it, so they can begin their investigation of you. In the meantime, they will begin combing the woods around here to see if they can recover the bodies of him or his brother-"
"His brother?!"
"Yes. They're both missing, and there is only one suspect. As they are doing this, our agencies overseas will begin to look into your contacts there-"
"I have no contacts there or anywhere! I'm a schoolteacher!"
"Well, not anymore, are you? We know you visited Cairo in 2002-"
"To scatter my wife's ashes by the pyramids!"
"Poetic, really, I give you credit, for a so-called ex-science teacher, that's poetic. Look, Sydney, you're going to jail. For what and for how long, well, that depends very much on whether we find our information before you tell us what we need to know."
Sydney swallows hard, "I am a British citizen! I have rights!"
"What do you want? You're not getting a barrister from me. Or do you just want me to pipe Billy Elliot into your cell for you?"

Sharon

2009-06-30T09:31:00.002+01:00

Life should always be like this thinks Sharon.
She's been in Pain Garden for two solid days.
One more and the club closes.
She's eaten crap bar food, consumed god knows how much champagne and thinks she's done about 17 e's, some K but she's kinda lost grip on that one. She did some lines of coke about five hours ago and now she needs some more.
Her back is starting to hurt bad from a three hour stint in the sling, where she was whipped, by a woman dressed in tight leather with her breasts exposed, Sharon could see the woman's nipples harden every time she bought down the whip. she's been burnt with cigarettes by a naked guy who eventually fucked her as he worked his way down her thigh with a Marlboro lite as he burnt her a woman worked some nipple clamps on her until there was a trail of blood, which was licked by a guy, she thinks, dressed as a satyr.A crowd had gathered for that one, she lost count of the number of men who came over here. For a while she lay in the men's urinals, letting guys piss all over here, it kinda snapped her out a K hole.
She knows a life exists outside of the garden but only just, there's another day to go.

Disappearances

2009-06-29T19:33:00.002+01:00

Sydney Thomson is about to get a harsh life lesson on the meaning of the word irony. He's just learned that his debit card mysteriously stopped working and is sweating out the hope it has nothing to with Jake's trickery. He's always been his own worst enemy, and now he's about to meet a man, ironically named Sydney as well, who will make the metaphor a flesh-and-blood reality.

Just over a mile away this other man has just been given confirmation that his target has been spotted on CCTV swearing at a bank machine, 3400 miles away from where the GPS on his mobile says he is, but they've already confirmed that the phone is sitting in an express mail pouch at a post office in Dubai, a fairly weak attempt to confuse them. After what he did, did this Sydney Thomson fellow honestly expect to gain access to his funds so he could just disappear? No, this would be a soft target, and he would enjoy smashing it.

Five miles away Jake and Sam have turned off their own mobiles. No one knows where they are, and it's nice this way, for once out of the shadow of the world. They're holding hands naked and sitting in the warm stream beneath the afternoon sun and making insane plans to really disappear totally, sneak aboard a ship that will drop them in some corner of the world where they will never be found. Iceland or South America or wherever.

And Jacob Sr., who never liked the damned mobile his work made him carry around, considers its silence before tossing the fucking thing in the nearest wastebasket, is wondering now why everyone has vanished and more than a bit scared for Sam's health, only the fact Jake Jr. may have been the one to spirit him out of hospital gives him comfort. If anything Jake is fiercely loyal to Sam, as more than one would-be bully has found out, several of whom found themselves in hospital over the years for picking on his older brother. He sighs and fishes his mobile out of the trash in resignation, hoping it decides to speak up with some answers. There's just the issue of Sharon to deal with but the fact she seems to have disappeared from the face of the planet neither concerns or saddens him much. His affairs were just lying to himself, their marriage had been gone for years, dessicated and dead, and the discovery had just been a final confirmation. He finds himself in the middle of Piccadilly Circus, surrounded by an impossible number of people for him to feel so alone, and he notices an absinthe bar. He thinks to himself, absinthe, I wonder what that tastes like, and yes a part of the thought is maybe it can take him back to the creative days where he painted and wrote, before drowning in a sea of business suits and photocopier ink. He wonders if that cute, gawky blonde teenager who wrote poems for the girls he should have married, the lad he used to be is still alive in there somewhere, waiting to be revived, or if he had vanished like everyone else had.

Jacob Snr

2009-06-29T07:38:00.004+01:00

"get dressed"
a nurse, a rather sever nurse is standing over my bed. The various tubes and monitors have all been withdrawn, there's no security guard and there's no Sam.
"where's my son, is he alright"
"he's fine, he was discharged this morning, your other son collected him".
"Jake"?
"not my shift, I don't know, in this bag are the painkillers you may need, take as required but do not exceed the dosage as stated, it's all on the bottles".
She hands me a paper bag with the medicines inside.
I dress and walk out, take the lift down to ground floor and through the sliding door, air, wind, hits my face and I turn into it, to feel something, anything. I take my mobile out and try and phone Jake's number, no answer.
Exactly one hundred and thirteen miles away, Sydney Thompson watches as the screen of the mobile lights up, with Dad calling and a photo of a rather distinguished looking man, Sydney studies the picture closely, yes that's the boy he taught in his second year at the school, a devious, nasty boy who could charm, delight and destroy all in equal measures. The mobile stops ringing, it's followed by a text message, Sydney reads it
'U @ hme or cottage.....Dad...reply 2 me'
Meanwhile exactly five miles from Sydney, Sam and Jake Jn are sat outside in the garden of a rather secluded cottage, they feel as if they are the only people on the planet.

Marmalade.

2009-06-29T01:07:00.003+01:00

It's getting close to dawn and fuck if he isn't thinking about how this all arrived here, the shitty night when Jake was running a 102 fever and would only let Sam close, just it happened so natural there, his hand slipping into the PJs while Jake closed his eyes and pushed him down, and the taste like an appetizer before it went over, and then curling up with him, his shallow breathing just like now and this must be so wrong but he won't let it be, he tastes his brother's lips and it's marmalade tasting and he feels guilty he didn't make him something better to eat and fuck fuck this is gonna be a bitch to make work but he wants it to and fuck all if it's always been this way just neither of them could admit it, just sit in the shower and jerk off, he remembers Jake telling him that was his first time and feeling so guilty about it.
And he's thinking, what the fuck, I mean you can't control this shit, just try to avoid it which always fucks up in the end and he strokes his butt gently and watches Jake slowly getting hard from the touch and he has to ask in a whisper, "Do you want me to?" because saying it out loud would be...
And all Jake says is yes and he doesn't have to ask him to be gentle, this has gotta be his first time also, and he makes sure he goes slow and has to bite his tongue to stop it from being over too soon, I mean, this is the first time and it's got to be something awesome Jake'll remember for the rest of his life, soft and slow or hard and rough, Sam's guide being the noises he's making and fuck he must be doing this right even though he's only done it a few times before because his hand is stroking him, too, and he's starting to drip and Sam wants a taste of the precum which is sweet and salty and tastes just like the marmalade he put on his toast earlier and fuck he can't hold back, he just starts cumming and it won't stop and Jake can feel it and he shoots, too, it's like so powerful it just flys all over the wall, its like he wanted to cum like this forever and he doesn't pull out he just leans over which makes it go in further and fuck if that doesn't make him cum again and he starts to pull out but Jake grabs him ass and pushes him back in and says, "no, not yet," and how the hell are they going to explain this to the world and why should they have to, he doesn't want to, Jake's ass is so tight around him he can't resist but to start pushing again, even if he doesn't have much left to give he wants to and he grabs Jake's sweaty hair and kisses him.
Yes, it's marmalade and too many moments that they put aside and he just wants to take care of him now, he makes a point to bring him toast and coffee and all Jake does is thank him and trace the scar on Sam's back and it makes every hair on his body stand up and Jake says "I want this" and Sam knows his brother to mean he wants it and lays back while Jake goes down and its like the one time he took acid, the room just explodes in colors and...

Sam and Jake

2009-06-28T11:04:00.002+01:00

and as he cries Sam realises hes crying in memory of all those times when he wishes he could have taken Jake and made love to him, all those times he laid in bed, listening to Jake jerk off or just watching him sleeping as he did and he realises that moments like this matter in a life, he knows this moment could mark out his life forever, a life of constant regret or a life having know total pleasure and as he's making that decision Jake holds him close and as he is held close Sam starts to move his body up and down, so their cocks are sliding against each other and Sam knows it's right here, right now, this fucking moment, this risk that's gonna define his life forever and as he moves, he moves forward and places his lips against his brothers and it's right fucking now, right fucking here, now and there's a relief as Jake pushes his lips onto Sam's and they kiss, long and hard and Jake's hands move to his brothers ass and he strokes before pushing a finger inside Sam and all Sam can do is relax to allow his brother inside him and Sam pushes back onto his brothers fingers to let him further inside and they are both biting each others lips hard and Jake moves his lips away and whispers into Sam's ear, "lets just do this, bite each others lips so hard they draw blood and then lets kiss and drink each other, take my life inside you, yours inside me" and they do, there's an exquisite moment when as they both bite they both feel the lip of the other give way and burst and at that moment they both feel the warm blood pass between them and as they do they both cum against against each other.

Streams.

2009-06-28T09:28:00.002+01:00

Sam has only snuck out twice naked and now Jake practically pushes him out the door and the sun feels so good it like makes him feel sleepy and fuck he's white as hell with a giant scar he realizes now and he's ashamed.
Jake has made him a drink and fuck all if his brother didn't learn from the master this shit is strong as all fuck, its Cuba y Libre and he brought out chips and some fresh-made salsa and this is weird as fuck cuz they're both naked and he really is kinda sure Jake is hitting on him.
And he bitches about the scar and how evrytyhing hurts and suddenly he's getting a massage, and Jake is strong so it's all pleasant pain, and there's a stream right there and he decides to go in and Jake does too and he's all like yikes, not cool, they're both hard, there should be something awkward about this, but there isn't, and...
what...
the..
fuck...
i just frenched my brother and he didn't say shit and now idk wtf.
He tousles Jake's hair and shit he's going to hell for sure cuz he just laughs and they're both hard as fux and this is probably the wrongest road he's ever been down, Jake pushes him over on the bank and fuck he can't even put his mind around next it's just too fucked up and probably illegal in a dozen countries.
But it feels right and it starts to rain and they don't move and that's good because the rain is hiding his tears.

Sam and Jake Jr

2009-06-27T12:40:00.002+01:00

Sam has woken, he doesn't feel tired or down, he feels good.
He lies there a while making sure the feelings not gonna pass, but whenever he looks at Jake whose sleeping next to him he knows it won't.
He gets out of bed and walks naked to the kitchen.
Checks all the cupboards and fridge, Jake has stocked the lot by the looks.
He turns on the kettle and finds some fresh coffee, milk and sugar, aghhh today's gonna be good he thinks. Pops the toaster with some bread and is working through a whole loada jams and marmalade's when he notices Jake standing in the doorway with an ear to ear grin.
"good to see ya happy man" Jake says.
"good to be happy" Sam snaps back grinning.
Jake walks over and holds Sam close, running his hands through his hair, smelling it.
Sam feels as happy as a kid at Christmas with his first bike.
"Toast, Coffee" Sam asks.
"Both would be real cool".
Sam butters toast, pours coffee, puts it on a tray.
"out side's nice, here" Jake says
"hold on, I get dressed then" says Sam
"why" says Jake, "it's real secluded here, "let's just go like this".
Sam laughs and looks at Jake
"why not, who we gonna scare out here"
"no one here but us chickens" says Jake quoting an old Cab Callaway song they used to sing as little kids with their Mum.

Trouble

2009-06-25T22:11:00.004+01:00

Sydney is practically falling over himself at the coup. For once, he's got Jake Jr. right where he wants him doesn't even notice the next text that flashes on the phone's screen: "Your balance is low."
He jumps nearly a foot in the air and stuffs the phone in his pocket when his sister yells to him, because something in her voice is a bit alarming.
"What are these charges?" she demands, waving some bill in his face, it's for his Orange mobile, and the balance at the top alone is enough to stop Sydney in his tracks.
"600 pounds??" she demands. But he can tell from the look in her eyes, it's just getting started, and starts to protest, reaching into his pocket to show her the call history and prove it must be a mistake.
The phone isn't there.
"This one is a number in Brighton. That's near the school, isn't it?"
He nods, not quite sure what to say but very sure who has his phone, the hell-child who won't stop, probably the whole thing with the disposable prepaid he thought was Jake's was all a set up, but he had Sydney by the short hairs now.
"I, I-called it," she mumbles, looking at him with red eyes. "A woman answered. You said after Madelyn you would never re-marry, and I uprooted my life so I could take care of you in your poor health."
"That's preposterous. My phone got stolen-" he starts, but wait, there's more.
"And all these international calls? Karachi? Islamabad? Dubai? You do realize there are people who will notice ninety calls to those places, they all have one thing in common. What have you gotten yourself into, us into? The woman, she sounded foreign."
"Well what did she say?" he bellows, feeling the blood leaving every extremity.
A police car speeds by, its siren blaring full volume, and Sydney already has a weak heart and damned if that doesn't nearly stop it right there.
"She hung up on me."
Sydney swallows, because she's never met Jake, who must be behind all of this, and someone who never met the demon would have trouble accepting that a boy of only sixteen could be this evil, and surely the boy had found help to pull this off, but that really didn't matter any longer. Apparently, Sydney had, too, totally underestimated the boy's ability for revenge. Always two steps ahead of Sydney, who for Christ's sake, graduated from Oxford.
The mailslot clatters shut, the postman must've forgotten something, and a neat stack of envelopes from credit card companies tumbles in front of them, return addresses from countries he'd never been to, and before he knows it, he's earned a slap across the face and the door slams behind her as she drags her children out of the house, tossing the keys squarely at him face before he has the reflexes to duck.
All that's left to do anymore is wait and see what more Jake Jr. has in store for him.
Jake's prepay buzzes, and his nerves really can't take much of this, two messages.
"Shappard. I gt my phones confused. Jake said you would arrange a meeting at your sister's cottage that wld be discreet if I kept it quiet about you two."
"Balance: £0.09, Please top up at o2.co.uk."
It occurs to him just hours ago his biggest worry was never being able to work as a teacher again, and all he can do is start laughing. He opens up the Johnny Walker and pulls an insanely large amount for himself, and he's starting to laugh so hard now he can barely drink it without spilling it all over his cheap tweed jacket.

Sydney Thompson

2009-06-25T12:02:00.002+01:00

Sydney Thompson former esteemed housemaster, now disgraced, he couldn't bring his mind to say the word sits in his room or rather, his sisters spare bedroom and turns Jake's mobile phone over and over in his hand, as if handling the phone somehow connects his back to the boy, that boy.
He's suddenly jolted back into the room by the phones vibration, he looks at the screen.
'txt message'
he opens it
'missing you'
'Jack Shappard'
Sydney blinks.
What Jack Shappard the headmaster, he thinks.

The country.

2009-06-24T22:50:00.004+01:00

Sam doesn't have a clue where they're going. His brain is still a little foggy but he's wondering why they've left London a good thirty minutes ago, headed south.
"This isn't the time to take me to Paris to catch up," he mutters, and Jake laughs that laugh that's a snort almost. There's something different than Sam remembered in his brother, it's almost like he grew up overnight, well, okay, it's been a good six months since he last saw him. But there's a determination to him now, like a goal, a seriousness he never saw ever before.
The taxi turns off and Sam glances at the meter, nearly losing his lunch when he notices it's over a hundred quid. He starts to panic, because he thinks all that's left in his jeans is a tenner after the disgusting lunch at Subway before he went into hospital.
Jake has the money, and he doesn't want to know how or where the thick wad of bills his brother is peeling off for the fare for came from, or why he threw in an extra fifty, telling the driver that he never saw them.
He propels Sam to an impossibly small cottage, well, calling it a cottage is a bit of an exaggeration, it's a cramped bookish space that looks like it was deposited from the set of Lord of the Rings with the name "Walker" on its door. He watches in a mix of alarm and amusement while Jake Jr. finds a poorly-hidden key and drags him inside.
"What have you done?" says Jake to Sam, and now there's a flash of real anger in those eyes that always seemed so doe-ish before, and he punches Sam right on the chest, yes, right there, and how the fuck does he know about this? wonders Sam.
Sam can't look at him now, and he knows it's dishonest to blame it on the anesthesia or whatever, lying to Jake has always been something only really stupid people who wanted to get themselves in a world of misery would do.
And the kid's facade comes apart at once, and it's actually pretty terrifying, because Sam has never seen this side of Jake before, he's pounding on Sam and crying and cursing like no one he's ever heard, he's all at once like the little snot-nosed kid that cried in thunderstorms and who giggled when Sam bought him candy he wasn't allowed to have.
And then he's quiet, eerily quiet, because Sam hasn't figured out how to respond yet.
"I know what you did," breathes Jake, looking at him with a look of such betrayal it scares Sam and makes a tear roll down his cheek. "I know."

Sam

2009-06-24T17:15:00.003+01:00

There's a sudden flurry of activity around my bed.
Dad gets another shot, so he's gonna be out for a few hours again.
The activities to do with me.
Clothes are put on my bed, a Doctor arrives and signs off some papers.
Then a nurse says'
'OK, get dressed, the Doctor has said you are well enough to go home, your brother's in reception waiting for you'.
I dress, this feels too weird.
But no ones stopping me.
The nurse takes me down corridors and several floors in the lift, why was I in a psych ward and more important, why was my Dad.
Ground floor bell rings, I walk out the lift and there's Jake.
He stands and throws his arms open.
I run towards him, he catches me and I nearly knock him over.
His hands are all over me, my back, shoulders, hair.
I'm crying.
'hey come on Sam'
but I just can't stop.
He pulls me closer, bear hugs me.
'now come on, let's go'
I look into his eyes and as I do he turns me and pushes me forward.
We walk towards the exit.
There's a row of cabs, he takes the first in line, opens the door and I get in.
'I'm gonna tale care of you bro' he says
and I start to cry again and through my sobs I say
'I know, you will, you always do'.
Get home, he's already laid out food and we eat.
'It really is gonna be OK, Sam' he says.
'I know, I know' I say.
'can you stay'
he stops eating
'of course'
and with those words I feel a sudden strength, a sudden force to live, to try all over again, yeah, I'm gonna start over.

Jake Jr.

2009-06-24T01:55:00.002+01:00

The driver of the taxi complained loudly while the boy lit a cigarette and smiled to himself, wondering how long it would be before Mrs. Perkins figured out she hadn't misplaced them once again. Everything about Jake was intentional, down to to the too-tight clothes he wore and the haircut more suited to a boy several years younger. He had learned from the master, his mother, but even had ammunition against her now that she probably lay awake the nights she wasn't passed out drunk wondering if it might bubble to the surface.
Sydney had been easy to deal with. And he was fairly sure the replacement would be the old geezer Southland who was so addled changing his grades would be easy. His strategy was quite simple, to be as charming and innocent looking to people that could fuck things up for him that they were disarmed before they even realized they were in battle.
The headmaster was different, he let the man have a bit of fun here and there, he wasn't exactly sure why or very concerned why, all it would take to bring him down was any number of little pieces of evidence, photographs, and he knew if it became necessary just how he would do it, he'd seduce the man's daughter first, then arrange for her to come across the pictures and e-mails by "accident," the old fool had no clue that Jake had the power to take away everything he loved in life without really trying much at all.
His mobile vibrated and he checked the screen, it was his dad again, but whatever reason he was calling Jake wasn't about to make it so easy on him. Send him fifty miles off to school and see how much the boy wants to do with you, no, he'd make his old man squirm for a day before innocently calling, pretending he'd lost the charger or some other forgivable lie.

Sydney

2009-06-22T14:40:00.002+01:00

Sitting on the bed in his sisters spare room, his room now, his bed.
He hadn't the heart or inclination to unpack, that would be like acknowledging this was his place in the world now and he couldn't bare that thought.
Looking out of the window that looked into a simialrly dreary house opposite, Sydney sighed. He was brought back from this teduim by the mobile telephone vibrating on the bedside cabinet, his bedside cabinet, although not his phone. The screen informed him there was a txt message.
He worked through the keys until the message appeared.
'money in place.
ready to travel
await instructions
Trenholme'.
Trenholme, Trenholme, he turned the name over in his mind, not the same Trenholme that had been in the same year as Jake's father surely.

RIP

2009-06-21T17:22:00.002+01:00

Yes, this fitting irony. This will accomplish two things at once.

He's dug through years of photographs and to his own surprise Jake Jr. is in almost a dozen of them, maybe there was something the boy picked up on he wasn't telling himself.
So fit, so smart, and yes he did do everything to make sure the lad passed. Even giving him work in the summer and a place to sleep in the garage room because Jake had been so adamant he did not want to go home to Mum and Dad. He's met them once, and they seemed so cold, sort of ironic because they'd named the boy after his father, and there was mention of an older brother also, something elusive there because it always seemed to come up as an afterthought.
Sydney surrounds himself with these photos and to be quite sure, he must not be thinking right, after all he has a shrew and several wastes of life to look after, but his secret hobby is World-War II and now he puts this to use.
It's a Walther PPK, cold and black in his mouth while he starts the text.
"What we had was great, and I'm sorry for doing this to you," it says.
Even though there was nothing they had this will do wonders. Curse the boy for reading his mind like a psychologist. And the things Sydney could have shown him, the places, Roma, Wien, Muenchen, Berlin, all of which fell on tired deaf ears with the shrew who thought London was an exotic adventure. Yes, Jake would've liked those places, and wouldn't have minded playing as a nephew to Sydney for the tired eyes of society.
But that was never to be. And now he could exact revenge on the boy, filling his little life up with questions by police that might make him question everything he thought he knew so surely, even make the little fucker wonder why at sixteen he still slept in the same bed with his older brother, wonder about it all.
And suddenly the PPK tasted so great and he almost laughed at the thought of his blood on the Send button and wondered if they would return it to him.
Like so much in life, it just took one push.

Sydney Thompson

2009-06-21T14:42:00.000+01:00

As Sydney Thomson contemplates life with his younger sister and her brood of half witted children in a unfashionable suburb of a town he doesn’t even want to think about, so ugly is it, iron strikes into his soul.
This school, my cottage in the grounds, comrades and boys all gone.
No summers sports days, long afternoons, watching boys in flannel whites playing cricket, no more mud splattered rugby matches to warm his winter days.
All that remains is for him to leave it behind.
No leaving party, no special photograph album with a monogrammed cover covering his years at the school, boys now men, he helped to mould looking out at him from the pages. That pleasure has been denied him.
Long serve and diligence count for nothing, especially when a boy as precious to the schools reputation as Jake are at stake, easier to sacrifice a teacher than a boy, he thinks as he turns to leave.
He walks from the garden and into the quad, where he hears a mobile telephone ringing, he follows the sound with his eyes. There is nobody here, a telephone forgotten by a boy no doubt in a rush.
He walks towards the telephone and picks it up, pushes the green receive button.
‘Thompson, can I help’.
‘Sir, sorry, Sir, this is awkward but I wonder could you help please and take my telephone to the office, you see I have left it behind’.
‘Certainly’ say’s Sydney Thompson glad to be able to help a boy in need, a last gesture of kindness on his part.
‘your name’?
‘Jake Jr, Sir’.
With that Sydney Thompson pushes the call end button and pockets the telephone as he leaves the school for the last time.
Knowledge is power Sydney he tells himself as he settles into the backseat of his cab, knowledge is power.

On the Green

2009-06-20T17:40:00.002+01:00

He pauses and shuffles his Oxfords in the tan gravel, then pauses to look back at the imposing rock walls of the building designed to scare the generations of children he has taught, and suddenly the box that somehow contains all that is left of thirty years of teaching feels like a giant block of lead.
Lead, Period Table Symbol Pb, periodic number 82, a soft and malleable metal...
The whack of the cane against the little brat's desk that started it all, and then the failing grade on the final examination that was the beginning of the end, and the next thing Sydney Thomson knew he was facing down the headmaster, a man who never smiled and now seemed to only have the most wrinkled frown on his forehead humanly possible. The accusations, and no opportunity for defense. Every protestation Sydney started to present was met with that cough that was as sharp as the blade of a guillotine. He had become aware then of the two bobbies that had appeared behind him, and the message did not need to be put into words. This sort of scandal would not do.
His thoughts were interrupted by a black taxi nearly running over his toes, and Sydney turned and found himself face-to-face with the little bastard ingrate. He thought first of yelling a defense, I never did anything to you, young man!, but that emotion quickly changed as the red-head who could have easily passed for Ron out of Harry Potter gave him the most evil smurk.
Yes, Sydney, I fucked you, and I fucked you good, you tried to flunk me out, who lost?? it said. It was all Sydney could do not to stride over and wrap his thick fingers around the boy's scrawny Welsh neck and ring it like a worthless rabbit.
Welsh rarebit.
Instead he found himself looking down, wandering towards the student garden he'd grown fond of grading papers in on sunny afternoons. He sat the box down and quickly found the small withered plant Jacob Junior had contributed to the offering, quickly checked to see if anyone was watching, and yanked his member out and urinated all over the pitiful thing, then smashed it into oblivion.
The little shit.

Jake Jr

2009-06-20T14:38:00.002+01:00

Looks like we have a deal, the situations ongoing as they say.
I'm pretty happy as I walk into my housemaster's study.
'enter, boy' booms out from Mr Peterson.
'Sir, I need a pass to go home for a couple of days, my father and brother are both in the hospital and I think I should go and support them, Sir'.
'Yes, I was sorry to hear about that and had been expecting such a request from you'. I am surprised you didn't ask yesterday'.
'Sorry Sir, I spoke with the Doctor yesterday and he said there would be no advantage in rushing there and I had a couple of things I needed to sort here before I went, Sir'.
Mr Peterson, smiles now, as if all knowing;
'I see Jake, sensible, you seem on top of the situation there, good lad, three day pass be long enough'.
'can I have a week Sir'
'yes, of course, no problems' and with that he signs a pass form for me to take to the office.
I leave his study and go and sit in the quad, it's empty, every ones in lessons now, so it's safe to phone.
The Doctor picks up, of course he would it's a private line.
'It's Jake, Hi, I am on my way, I take it the plans are in place with the donor you have set up'?
'Yes, of course, but this will need to be discussed in person and not over the telephone, understand'.
'Yes, of course, see you tomorrow, then'.
As I put the phone back into my pocket, I hear a taxi pull up, mine I guess.

Sam - Requiem(?)

2009-06-17T16:05:00.001+01:00

The beep beep beep of the machines has goin on for days and it's like having a headache that just won't go away no matter how much you try to make it, it's living in ma head permanent-like.
Doctor seemed interested at first when I talked to him, then covered his reaction, checking around to see if anyone was listening, which they got Dad on so much painkiller now idk if he'll ever come back around enough ta hear if an airplane crashed through the roof.
And I'm askin myself wtf am I thinking, why do I care if they take it, cuz I really want to tell this world ta go fuck itself is all I really want, stick me with a shitty broke body that never worked right, do they fuckin deserve this?
I sure as hell didn't.
And it makes me sick ta think they might stick it in some fat old blue-hair who's been sucking down fast food and Dunhills and Bombay for thirty years and wonders why their ticker's givin out. Got to set conditions somehow, I think, but that's fuckin stupid, too, I mean wtf am I gonna do if they lie about what they're gonna do with it, haunt them?
I can't get this taste out of my mouth, either, it takes like bad poison all the time, and they ran some other tests without sayin what they're for so I wonder if something else is about to go wrong with me, cuz that taste just isn't right, it's rotten and stale and tastes like the smell of the dead cat I found when I was six.
And I know that Dad's gonna wake up and find me gone and well that sucks, and a part of me wants him to feel that, to let him know what it really feels like for your son ta be dead.
Or maybe I think about it more and it's my decision, my body, and then all I can think of is what if someone like Jake Jr. needed it, some kid with an easy smile and a laugh that makes everyone in the room laugh, and smarts that won't quit, I mean, that'd be ultimate cuz then it wouldn't be wasted on some old bag of flesh or wasted keeping me around for no good reason, then it would mean something, yanno, and maybe I gotta find a way to wake Dad up and talk to him to make sure that happens.
And I can't stop crying and I feel so fuckin exhausted I just want this all to end ffs.
I think more about Jake Jr. and that just makes me cry harder.

Mr Trenholm.

2009-06-17T12:18:00.002+01:00

'Mr Trenholme, sir, sorry to interrupt your meeting but the call your requested to be put through is online now'.
Mr Trenholm looks up from a dull report written by his rather over weight head of HR and looks at the faces of his heads of department, a dull lot, he thinks.
'you will have to excuse me, I am afraid, I need to take this call in private'.
They gather their papers and file out, to wait in the outer office.
He closes the door on them and picks up the telephone.
'Trenholme'.
There's a transatlantic fuzz on the line.
'Mr Trenholme, sir'.
'Yes'.
'This is Doctor Nash, we spoke recently'.
'Yes, Trenholme quickly says not wanting to cover the where and whys of their last conversation.
'Sir, I think we have a suitable heart for donation'.

Sam

2009-06-17T01:59:00.002+01:00

What wasn't to understand, though, is what I really wanted to ask.
It was just a curse. No matter what I did, it ended up going wrong.
Now here I was, just a kid, supposed to have all this life waiting for me. Some fucking life.
I knew what it was going to be like. I used to be so cute and attractive, used to even turn myself on a bit just by flipping my hair in the mirror at myself, silly, I know, but now the instant I took my shirt off in front of someone I wanted to fuck around with, they'd react with fear to the giant scar I knew trailed down my back now, hell even in front of me when I took a bath, there'd be that a scar from which I could never hide.
I knew the diabetes could fuck up my kidneys, but I figured I was young and maybe I didn't have to worry so much. Now it was obvious, was there nothing left but embarrassment and slow degrees of death. Whatever chance I once had of finding someone was pretty much shot unless I stuck to the ugliest possible choice, some fat person who didn't mind what my body had become. I'd hate them for that, resent them for them being the only sort of person who would ever think I was cute again.
I was supposed to quit smoking long ago but never had found much desire to unless I was too broke for it. Now there really was no reason to stop -- might as well get it over with, fuck it, let's go to three packs of day and cheap wine on top of that, push the other fucking kidney over the cliff and make sure when it finally went there I'd be somewhere no one could find me, like dogs do when they go to die, they go away to do it in private.
Or maybe I'd convince this doctor he maybe could salvage what was left of my body and talk him into putting whatever was still salvageable on the black market, one heart, 50,000quid, the Doc wasn't such the purist he'd not be tempted to buy it.

Jacob

2009-06-16T12:48:00.002+01:00

'Dad'.
Sam's coming round, what am I gonna say, I've been lying here practicing this for three hours and i still don't know what I am going to say.
'Here son'.
'Dad' the voice somehow more questioning.
'Yes Sam, it's me, here, next to you'.
'What happened, Dad'.
'to you or me' I say.
'both'.
'well, me, I just blacked out at work, it's just one of them things, they just keeping me in for obs'. 'You had a diabetic episode, you missed your shot and went under'.
I can see the look of recognition in your eyes, as you start to remember. I hold my hand out to you, you look and shift in your bed.
'don't Dad, not now K'?
'it's OK Sam, no worries'.
'was there something about a kidney' you ask.
The security guard whose now sitting in a chair by the door shifts, was that a move of unease?
I look at my son, he seems so vulnerable and small, like he did when he was small and chasing footballs all over the park, running and falling, always falling.
'I don't understand it Sam, the Doctor says they had to remove a kidney because it was too damaged to save'.
Your voice more urgent now,
'I swear Dad I've done nothing that would have damaged my kidney's, I don't get it, I've done nothing'.
'Me neither Sam, I don't get it either', I say.
He shifts in his bed again, pushes his head back into the pillow and stares at the ceiling and I wonder if we are thinking the same thing.
'Dad, I just don't understand this'.

Jacob

2009-06-16T05:20:00.002+01:00

It's a nightmare, Sam is muttering things under his breath. He's sweating a bit and I get an instant flashback to the last time I ever saw him have a nightmare, he must have been nine or ten, so impossibly long ago it seems. I wonder if he has happy dreams at all.
I wonder if maybe, just maybe, this new situation could bring us together again. It's selfish, I know, terribly unfair to act like this, to think like this because some huge part of this is for my benefit. I am not even certain he wants this.
I try to sleep. I feel so helpless, tangled in tubes and wires so much I can't even wake him up to tell him it's just a nightmare and will go with morning, though it is true that the very worst nightmares are impervious to the morning sun.

Sam

2009-06-15T09:57:00.001+01:00

I know this only a dream because everything’s black and white apart from the sea which is mauve and as the waves break the peaks go to red, leaving the beach bloodstained. Children are running and playing in the blood.
I’m stood on a pier, there is only one other person as far as I can see.
A man dressed in a black pin striped suit, white shirt, black tie and highly polished shoes.
His head appears as an egg, he has no facial features, his face is totally smooth, like an egg.
He holds at arms length, a silver medical dish.
In that dish is my kidney.

Jacob

2009-06-13T19:15:00.002+01:00

I wish Sydney would come back, the rent-a-cop would run away like a scared cockroach.
And I look at Sam and realize this is something I created, something I probably didn't do such a good job being in charge of, I can blame myself for how we are today.
Sure enough, I made sure he was always fed and had a roof over him, but I can't remember the last time I was ever really a father to him.
I have a strange urge to go to a park with him and throw balls back and forth, it's something I can't remember when I last did that for him. I can't remember the last time we ever talked without it winding up in a yelling match.
There are moments in life that if you miss them, you never get them back, and I find myself crying. It must be the drugs. But maybe there is something to this, that the only words I can find to say to my son are apologies.

Sam

2009-06-13T15:15:00.002+01:00

The security guards looking at us suspicious as my Dad reaches his hand out to hold mine.
Then he walks between the beds so my Dad has to withdraw his hand, I leave my hand trailing in the air, a remembrance of an intimacy so rare recently.
The security guard stays between us.
Inhibiting any conversation between us.

Jacob 2009-06-12

2009-06-12T11:10:00.002+01:00

I've come to and for once it in the past few days it doesn't mean pain. It doesn't, however, immediately make me feel better, because the NHS Doctor here is not one for subtlety or mincing words. He sees I'm awake, and he's just said something to Sam I didn't quite catch, now, noticing I'm awake there's someone stabbing me with a needle almost at once.
"Mr. Reilley, I only have one question for you," he says.
I start to say something to make myself a bit bigger in his eyes, but before I can, he says, "We've had to operate on Sam. He's going to need you here to be with him when he's well enough to be off sedation. But, for fuck's sake, man-"
Did the Doctor just say "for fuck's sake"???
"-you honestly are telling me none of his other Doctors told you?"
"Told me what?" I manage, wondering if I just hallucinated him saying that to me because of the drugs.
"His diabetes did not come out of nowhere."
He pauses, and all I can respond with is swallowing hard at what that means for me, for Sam, and then he says, "Get some rest. I think we can save your foot, the Major got you here in time despite the idiots who worked on you last."
And he's gone. I can just reach Sam, who is still conscious but avoiding eye contact, and with a bit of a struggle I manage to just take his hand which he doesn't pull away.
"I'm sorry, son, and I love you," is all I can think of to say.

2009=06-12 Sam

2009-06-12T10:24:00.002+01:00

I just don't get it.
A minute ago my Dad charged in with that scary mate of his, the one who kidnapped me when I was 14 and living at Len's house. He carried me straight out of the house, slapped me around, then locked me in the boot of his car. He was the one who sat in my room for eight days solid as I slowly re-entered the life my parents had decided was fit and proper for me. He was the one who drove me to that school, where they took the cheques and nobody asked questions.
And what the fuck happened to 'do not administer drugs' why am I still here?
And now this Doctor is telling me I've had a kidney removed, cos it was too damaged.
And he looks and says 'any questions'
and as soon as my lips part he says;
'no good, now rest' and there's a needle in my arm and he's gone.

Jacob 2009-06-11

2009-06-12T01:03:00.002+01:00

I have to stop waking up like this. This time it is to a loud crash which echoes horribly in my Whisky-soaked head like a ball peen hammer to the knees. The pain travels straight down to my feet which feel as if a million biting spiders are feasting.
It's Sydney, I realize, even in the dark his short burly silhouette is unmistakable, even at just five foot six, the man is fourteen stone, almost all of it muscles earned from years in the SAS and God knows what else. The man dropped mention of Mogadishu once in conversation and I was wise enough not to ask further.
He can tell I'm awake, and as is customary for him, he does not bother with pleasantries, before I can protest he has sized me up, down to the blood-and-Whisky drenched wraps on my feet, and lifts me up like a wife being carried over the threshold, putting as much effort into it as one might require when lifting a pen.
I haven't quite come around to what is going on, not that I would be in much position to do a damned thing about it in his bear's grasp.
"You're a fucking mess, you know this," he says to me as he tosses me into the front seat like a sack of groceries. "You're just damned lucky I got involved when I did, because charges won't be filed."
"Charges? What charges?" I ask, wishing he had at least allowed me a glass of water and a paracetemol before yanking me up.
He won't answer me, and before I know it, we are in a part of the city I would never dare set foot in without someone like him around. He has found Sam, I guess, easily enough, this is the sort of place he might wind up. We pull up to an impossibly filthy building that passes for a hospital, and an orderly appears with a wheelchair which gets him a glare from Sydney that would freeze anyone. Instead, I am carried in, every protest from some public servant being ignored, and one security guard who quickly decides not to get in Sydney's way beats a retreat.
And then I see where he has taken me. It's Sam, but I scarcely recognize him. He looks pale, sick, and the room reeks of vomit. I am tossed onto an adjacent gurney before I can say anything. Sam sees me, acknowledges me, but looks as if he is feeling to sick to say much. I turn to say something to him, but before I get the first word out someone has come in and ripped the bandage off of my foot with such force I scream in pain. A syringe I really hope is clean is jammed into my arm and all I can see as the room grows blurry is Sydney, arms folded, standing in the corner, and a man I guess is a doctor who has not bothered to clean the blood of his former patient off. Even through the blur of whatever was in the syringe i can feel the hot pain of whatever is cutting into my foot. As things fade out I look over at Sam and he is looking back at me, which is the only thing is this room that isn't terrifying me.

Doctor & Nurse: a short conversation

2009-06-11T21:05:00.005+01:00

Double doors sweep open. An empty stretcher rests abandoned in the corridor. A water bottle and drip are sent into hiding by white flaying coat and brown sensible shoes. Green overalls, plimsols and surgical mask squeeks along behind. A door opens and slams shut.

"If that little shit remembers anything of what has passed here tonight we're all for the chop! Are you sure he was completely out? Are you fucking sure!?"

Green trousers drops mask and eyes the doctor: "He was out on arrival... That is certain. At what point he gained consciousness I cannot say exactly. It would have been around 12.45 that I..."

"That You possibly saved the only person you should have killed. What we have here is much more than a suicidal diabetic... what we have here is a HUGE FUCKING PROBLEM... a registered, treated and pissed-off problem!"

Green overalls lowers his gaze and eyes brown sensible shoes. He thinks and then sinks a flushed and tired head into clean hairy hands.

Sam 2009-06-10

2009-06-10T13:53:00.004+01:00

'Which one you fucking, fuckheads revived me'

'FUCK, who was it'

'you'

You'

or

'YOU'

Two nurses and a Doctor are backed up against the cubical wall.

They look scared, they fucking should be scared right now.

'I said

WHICH

ONE

OF

YOU

FUCKERS

REVIVED

ME'

The Doctor takes a step forward, 'I did'

'and why' I bellow at him.

he smiles, he must think he's on firmer ground now.

'you had a diabetic episode, you fell into a coma, your insulin levels were dangerously low'

I can't fucking believe this. Fuck wad. I shout cutting him off.

'Yes I know I had a fucking diabetic episode as you call it' I scream

the fucker steps back again.

'did any of you read this, when you so heroically saved my live'

I point to my chest and the ink on it, Gothic lettering, four inches high.

NIL BY MOUTH.

DO NOT ADMINISTER DRUGS.

'Well did you' I say pointing to the Doctor

'you' now the nurse

'or you perhaps'

'well'

They look but dare not speak.

I pick up a jug of water from the bedside table and hurl it in no particular direction and then I feel an arm grab me from behind, then another and another push a needle into my ass.

As I'm going down I hear the Doctor say to a nurse I guess,'who is he'.