I Broke Down

Disclaimer: *property of eroburn. Not to
be copied or distributed or published without permission. The author is not
responsible for the reader and any thoughts, or emotional distress they may
receive after reading the work of writing. All hail aff.

Mark
can never escape. Can Joe save him? m/m, original,
abuse, Anal, Angst, Inc, Language, N/C, Tort, Oral, Yaoi.

I
Broke Down                                                                                                                               

by Eroburn

Word
Count: 3025

Chapter 11

Mark panicked.
Dude's arms went around him and he began to calm. Dude couldn't protect him and
he took his knife. It was his, the only thing before that didn't touch his
flesh in anger. He still couldn't move. Dude was pinning him with his arm. No
room to wiggle out. He glanced at the clock. It was after 11am. He didn't think
he had slept that long ever. He had to pee, which meant he had to get the big
lug's arm off of him. He struggled for a few minutes and it got him nowhere. He
was about to wet himself, which he hadn’t done since he was five. Mark eventually
out of panic bit Dude hard enough to where he jerked and fell off of the bed. He
ran to the bathroom, only barely making it.

Joe woke up in
pain. He had a good night and woke up with a vampire on his arm. He jerked away
from the sting and tumbled onto the floor. Mark bolted out of the door in a
hurry. Joe couldn't help but be completely afraid. He was a lecherous bastard
and now Mark knew. It was just a matter of time before he became someone's
bitch. Then it occurred to him that Mark was in the bathroom and he freaked. He
banged on the door for a couple of minutes solid. If Mark cut again he was
going to.... Joe didn't know what, because he couldn't exactly kick Mark's ass
or anything. He would ground him or put him in time out or something. He couldn't
even take away Mark's dessert because he was too skinny as it was.

Dude beat on the
door. Mark hated being bothered in the restroom. He hoped Dude didn't break
down the door. He hurried and opened the door.

Joe knocked hard
and was about to knock again when Mark opened the door. He barely caught
himself from hitting Mark. He was such a lumbering idiot. Mark dropped to the
floor kneeling. He covered his head as if waiting for more hits. Joe felt like
such a jackass.

“Mark, I wasn’t
going to hit you. I’m sorry. Please get up." Joe pulled Mark up by his
shoulders and Mark gave him a dirty look, then immediately cowered. This day
was going bad already. He needed to make breakfast and wake his mom up for
work. Joe also needed to get some homework, and housework done. His mom worked
too much to be a perfect housekeeper, so the house was always a little bit
messy although they both tried to keep it clean.

They weren’t
anywhere near rich. They were probably the only ones in their family tree who
weren't. His grandparents were wealthy, but they had disowned his dad before he
ever thought about leaving. They died before he was born. His uncle inherited
everything and then more than quadrupled it. His mom tried to encourage a
relationship but they had nothing in common. His uncle cared too much about
working and appearances to even bother with a distant relation. When he died he
left everything to his Aunt Victoria, Joe's great Aunt. Joe had only actually
met her one time when he was eight years old.

They had a nice
house, but his mom had to work extremely hard to keep up on the bills on it.
Joe helped out whenever he could, but lately all of his money had been going to
his truck for insurance and gas. He had been thinking about adding a couple of
days at the hospital just to help her out. He was scared to even think about
college. Unless he got a scholarship or a distant family member decided to be
nice, he wouldn’t be going. He could always fall back on working at the
hospital, but that’s not really what he wanted to do with his life. It seemed
like it would be a main career to most people but he just wanted more. To him
it would just be settling.

Joe wished he
could have gotten along with his Uncle a bit more before he passed on. It
wasn't like he was abnormal, but he just wasn't raised to act a certain way. He
wasn't sophisticated or refined. He didn't know five languages and hadn't
traveled to exotic foreign countries. He didn't know how to eat with more than
one fork. Chopsticks were a pain to even look at, although he could live off of
Chinese takeout. He didn't order it that often, because it wasn't really that
good for you, because of all of the MSG and sodium.

His uncle just
had too many expectations and he didn't want to be seen with his ‘poor’
relations. He had lavish Christmas parties every year that they weren't invited
to. Joe saw him a few times a year when his uncle wanted to give the speech
about Joe growing up and being a man. Joe was there when his mom had trouble
paying the bills. He had been there every holiday with just the two of them. He
had been through it all and he could barely stand it when his uncle said he was
not acting like an adult. Mom made him talk to his Uncle regardless, because he
was almost the only family they had left. Sometimes Joe wished that he had a
father but then again, Mark had a father and it got him nowhere. Mark was still
glaring at him.

“So what do you
want for breakfast?” Joe asked him and Mark's glare disappeared. Mark starred
at his feet. It was kind of sad that the kid just stood there not saying anything.
He headed to the kitchen and pulled out a package of frozen banana-nut bread
muffins. You just had to put them on a cookie sheet and put it in the oven.
Mark stood beside the table with his head bowed. The kid was completely
traumatized. Joe sighed in frustration and Mark didn’t even move a muscle. He
knew he could yell at Mark and maybe even throw things and Mark wouldn't move
out of his own little world. He was so small and sexy. ‘No,
not sexy, um, cute. Yes, he could be cute, not sexy.’

Mark had been
staring at Dude's ass when suddenly Dude started talking. Something
about something. Mark starred at his feet to avoid answering the
question. He hadn't heard it, but he didn't want Dude to think he was stupid
either. Avoidance was a method that he used which usually had no effect other
than annoyance and the occasional slap.

“Mark, sit
down.” Joe commanded Mark. Mark of course immediately dropped to the floor in a
kneeling position with his head bowed even lower. He shook his head and set a
timer for the muffins. He didn't even bother telling Mark to get up. He went
upstairs and knocked on his mom's door. She was a light sleeper and he barely
had to tap once before she was awake. He went back downstairs and Mark was
still in the same position. Joe pulled him up by his shoulders and pointed to a
chair. Mark immediately sat there. He wanted Mark to snap back at him, instead
of being a hollow doll.

Mark couldn't
see Dude's butt anymore. It was a very sad thing. He instead focused on looking
at his nails. He needed to paint them. Somehow his polish had disappeared since
he had painted them yesterday. He wondered if he secretly ate nail polish in
his sleep, or if the polish thieves had stolen it to put on their walls.

The muffins dinged
and Joe pulled them out of the oven with a potholder. His mom came down,
grabbing a hot muffin as she ran out the door. If Joe wasn't able to make
something she could grab with one hand, then she usually ended up going hungry.
His mom was a classic workaholic, but they still managed to need more money.
Joe fixed Mark a muffin on a plate with a glass of milk. He just stared at it
like it was the most disgusting thing ever. He wasn't a chef. He could manage
not to burn some things, but gourmet food was beyond him. Prepackaged foods
usually didn't have nasty things like eggshells or salmonella to ruin the
taste. Mark looked at him with penetrating eyes. They used to be a bright
emerald green, but now they were more of a jade green. All of the sparkle had
left them and they just looked dull.

The muffins were
so gross. They had bananas in them. Mark liked muffins as a general rule but
anything with banana in it was disgusting. He took a sip of the milk. It’s
lukewarm. It was really gross. He realized he was kind of weird. He liked ice
in his milk, but as long as it was really cold it was fine. The muffin looked
completely awful. He wouldn’t eat for the next two days to make up for the
pasta he consumed the night before.

Joe bit into his
muffin. Sad little kid or not, he could eat a horse. He ate three of the
muffins. He could afford to have a little extra potassium in his diet. Mark
took one sip of his milk, bowed and chucked the muffin in the trash, and poured
the milk in the sink. Joe's mother had taught him never to waste things. Even
if Mark didn’t eat it right that second, he could have stuck it in the
refrigerator for later or something. Although this usually would have annoyed
Joe he couldn't seem to get annoyed at Mark. He was just too s... cute.

Dude was giving
him a funny look. Mark wondered what he could have done now. Dude was always
looking angry at him. He wondered if it was his shirt. It had a quote by
Jean-Paul Sartre 'Hell is other people' on it. His words were so true. There
was no pleasing him. Dude devoured a ton of muffins. He was going to get fat.
It would be sad if Adonis turned fat. Mark was already fat. It was all Dude's fault. Dude dragged him away from his ivory tower
then proceeded to make him eat disgusting things. You couldn't forget that Dude
also broke his doorknob and bothered Mark while he was in the restroom. 'Cringes'. Dude was just pure evil, or maybe Mark was, as
his therapist often said, projecting.

“Mark, Are you
okay today?” Joe asks Mark knowing he is so far from okay it would take years
to get there. He didn’t even have to nod his head. Mark just wrapped his arms
around himself and let his hair fall over his eyes. He shook his head no.

Dude asked him
if he was okay. As if he was ever okay. Okay is for normal people, people that
give a shit about their life, that care about their surroundings, that don't
want to die every fucking second of every fucking day and it was all Dude's
fucking fault. Dude stole his fucking knife. Mark would bet the mother fucker
threw it away. He certainly wouldn't bother to look for it again. Too much damn
trouble and Dude, because of his size and strength, would just fucking take it
from him again. Dude just had to interfere in his life. He had it down to a
science. Wake up: cut. Go to school: cut in bathroom during lunch. Come home: do homework, cut, then if his father was home, get beat. If
it wasn't one of those days he would play on his baby, and then sleep the sleep
of the damned.

Dude looked at
him strangely, but Mark honestly didn't really care. He was really sick of
everyone controlling him, but he knew his place. He knew he was inferior, but
he also knew that he could kill them all if he wanted to. It was all a matter
of time and pressure. How much pressure over time would it take him to snap? He
wouldn't care about consequences, so what was really holding him back. Mark
instantly thought about his baby, and on some level he would miss it, but it
wasn't a strong enough thing to keep him grounded. Someday, even the thoughts
of being computer-less forever wouldn't faze him, and then maybe they would see
how many morals he actually had.

Dude shrugged
his shoulders and Mark felt it was only appropriate to give Dude his 'I don't
want you to hit me, but I hate you voice'.

"I miss my
knife" Mark left out all the parts about it being all Dude's
fucking fault. Mark knew his knife hurt him. If you cut yourself with a knife,
it was bound to fucking hurt. Dude didn't get that Mark was going nuts without
the pain. He thought he could make it. He thought he could exist without
cutting, but Mark was so close to finding any razor or rusty saw to cause a
little bit of torment to his flesh. He wondered if Dude cared about the
screaming in his head that just wouldn't stop. No, somehow Mark doubted Dude
could ever understand. Dude might listen patiently but then still expect Mark
to conform to his stupid rules, his stupid ideals. Dude would never get that he
couldn't, that Mark would never be normal. He refused. No one got it. Not his
rich assholic parents. Not those that never bothered
to waste tears on little Marky when he fell so many
times.

‘Yeah, Marky was a clumsy little boy. Marky
was a shy little boy. Yeah, Marky was shy. Cause if Marky let anything slip to any of the other little boys and
girls, then Marky would go home and get his ass bludgeoned
into the floor boards and maybe Marky wasn't that
good of a liar then. Maybe Marky still wasn’t. Too
bad Marky is him and it was his ass getting
bludgeoned.’ He would be surprised if his soul wasn’t black from all of the
hatred that he had been holding inside. He didn't usually pray but if he did he
would ask that his father go to heaven, so that he would never have to see the
motherfucker ever again.

Joe felt
horrible for taking Mark's knife away from him. It felt like he kicked a puppy
then stole its bone because it had germs. Mark sat back in the chair and just
stared sadly into space.

Joe knew of only
one thing that could cure a look like the one that was currently plastered onto
Mark's face, and there was only one place to get it.

Dude had been
saying something about going out of the house but Mark hadn't been listening to
him. Dude just went on and on about something but the buzzing in Mark's ears
was too great to hear him. Dude probably required an answer for something, but
Mark couldn’t even fake having heard him, because he didn’t have even an idea
of what Dude was talking about.

"What?"
Mark asked stupidly. He never thought he was a genius, because that would be a
lie. He reminded himself of the brain. He got so far, but nothing fucking
mattered. He even failed at dying. Next time, he would go for rat poison. It
would fry his organs so there would be nothing left. Mark thought there was
some somewhere. At least he would be in control of his own death instead of his
father having that esteemed honor. He wondered if he could get credit for being
a virgin, but somehow he doubted it. 

Little bitches
like him didn't get any Elysian fields, no paradise of which he could partake.
Not even Valhalla would take a shrimp like him. He would die in no battle, lift
no sword. He would be a disgrace. He was still hoping reincarnation didn't
exist. There was nothing worse than the thought of living a life like his over
and over again. He wouldn't do it. He would strangle himself on his umbilical
cord before he was ever born again. Maybe he could come back as a snail or
something and get eaten in a French restaurant. It had always been his dream to
get eaten in a restaurant. He knew he was strange, but had stopped caring a
long time ago.

Dude said
something about ice cream and going out to get it. He had never been out to get
ice cream. It might be a new experience, but he didn't want to eat that many
calories. Maybe they had low-fat yogurt or something like that. Otherwise, he
was just getting water and there was nothing Dude could do about it. Well,
unless Dude tried to shove it down his throat. Although he doubted Dude would
do that in public, but Mark could be beaten later for it. He sighed. Adonis
made a very sexy face at him. It wasn't fair that Mark had to be around him
when he had to be so.... have so much.... Yummyness. That is the only word that he could think of it to
describe Adonis's complete and utter hotness. Dude would probably kill him if
he knew that Mark had glanced at his butt and practically drooled over his
chest. He was convincing himself slowly that it was worth his death.

Mark hated being
tired. Stupid happy dreams always made him so pissed off, because then he
started wishing for more than he already had. Then he would have to deal with
Dude looking at him like he was some drugged out freak who had hearing
problems, or was too drugged out to even be able to understand English. Mark
wished he was dead but then who would piss off the Rocks or throw up at the
sight of the cheerleader parts.... He was sure there was a place for him in the
world. He was not sure where it was, but he was sure that it wasn't six feet
underground.

End of Chapter
11

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