Turmoil Behind The Mirror

“Don\'t despair; time will heal your torment
Don\'t you dare spend your days in hell
So beware, faith will bring you treason
While you stare….”

-- Soilwork


-------------------

Karma : Thank you so much for not giving up beta-ing my work , you rule !

Tsuki : Thank you , thank you , thank you so much for reviewing my story ! , it really encouraged me to keep writing the next chapter ! ... And by the way , next chapter , there will be gore :p , hope you like !
-------------------




By the time he got home, he realized it wasn’t that late in the evening, so he quickly moved around the house, getting everything he needed to start working. He put on some music and while the stereo played some November’s Doom melody, he sat in the living room and unwrapped the brown bundle.

Totally sober now, Jon began separating, measuring, mixing, and wrapping in cellophane. He was almost finished when someone knocked on the door. He then looked at the clock hanging on the wall opposite him.

// Nine already…. Who might that be? // Jon wondered while walking toward the door.

When he opened it, Chris came into view.

“Hey, Jon…. There’s a party at Nicole’s place tonight. Her parents are out for the weekend.”

“Is it Friday already…?“ Jon wondered, becoming lost in his thoughts.

“Hey, man, it’s freezing out here.”

“Huh…?” For a moment, Jon looked as if he was lost. Already gone. For a moment, he looked at Chris as if he didn’t recognize him at all. “Hey, Chris…! Come on in.”

“Fuck, Jon. You really give me the creeps sometimes,” Chris said, stepping inside while Jon closed the door.

“Are you coming?” his guest asked while disappearing into the kitchen.

“Yeah… just let me finish what I was doing,” Jon almost snapped.

“…Have some beer…?”

“In the fridge,” Jon answered while lighting a cigarette and getting back to work.

Chris stepped into the living room and noticed that the walls were covered with drawings, sketches, and writings. He frowned as he contemplated the made-up wallpaper.

He couldn’t actually see one coherent drawing.

“…Christ, Jon…. You’re fucked up….”

Jon stilled for a moment. He thought, // Thanks // and smiled wide at his own thoughts.

Chris looked at what Jon was working on so hurriedly.

“Shit…! What the fuck?!”

Jon tossed a small wrapping at Chris.

“On the house…” Jon muttered with a very convincing smile. Chris’ face lightened up.

“Well, thanks, Jonathan…. And your parents?” Chris asked, already sniffing the white powder.

“Out on business trip,” answered Jon while giving a long draught to his cigarette, leaning back and sinking deeper in his seat.

“And your sister? She’s hot, man.”

“Hey! Watch it!”

“Okay, okay…. Where is she, anyway?” Chris insisted.

“Out of this shit hole. She got her own place out of town and is living with some guy. I don’t know…. Haven’t seen her in a while.”

Jon shrugged his shoulders with utter indifference, and silence befell upon them.

Chris was enjoying the trip, fixing his eyes on whatever he could find in the room that caught his attention -- which was almost everything -- with an idiotic smile playing on his lips. Jon wanted about to ask him to leave, just to leave him alone; just to leave him be. He decided to ignore the guy in front of him and concentrate on seeing an end to the endless wrapping.

“There.”

After he was finished, he cleaned up the mess and looked at Chris, who was too high to react just now. That would give him roughly twenty minutes to take the shower he needed to get rid of the smell of alcohol and sweat lingering on his skin and clothes.

He smelled of hangover, cigarette butts, and antiseptic.

Heading off to the bathroom, he discarded his clothes and bandages, and took a shower, enjoying the feeling of warm water embracing him. The alcohol had warmed him up earlier, so he hadn’t realized it was in deed freezing out there.

He hurried up, washed his forearm carefully, turned off the shower, dried his long, wavy mane as best as he could with a worn-out towel, and went to his room.

It hadn’t hit him that it really stank in there.

// Damn. I’ll have to get rid of this smell tomorrow //

Taking out the antiseptics, balm, and fresh bandages from under the bed, he sat at the edge completely naked and started to tend to the still-reddened wounds.

“That looks pretty nasty.”

Jon turned his head to the door to see Chris standing there, leaning on the wall. Jon pulled his arm to himself and covered it with his other hand protectively. He felt his integrity had been intruded upon.

Anger rose in his veins.

Chris was scrutinizing the dorm from where he was standing. He frowned as he looked at the utter mess that was his “friend’s” room.

Dark curtains wouldn’t let in a lot of light. Books piled everywhere. On top of them, dirty clothes and ashtrays, plates, empty or half-filled glasses with doubtful liquids in them. Dirt in on the floor; syringes on the night table; empty bottles on the carpet.

The walls were covered with even more drawings, pictures, and magazine articles. There were barely readable writings painted on glimpses of bare wallpaper with what seemed to be blood, though Chris discarded it as ridiculous to be actual blood. The desk on the corner against the wall was covered with pages of old newspapers. Even part of the ceiling was already covered by a disturbing collage.

The headboard lamp gave out a dim light that covered the corners of the room in shadows and played cruel tricks on the pictures, giving them an almost vivid look.

And sitting in the womb of the darkened room, there was Jon, sitting on the edge of an unmade bed, staring up at him.

Chris felt a shiver run over his spine, all the way to his scalp.

“Mommy hasn’t been around much, huh, Jon?”

Then it happened. Jon’s anger turned to wrath.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Jon bared his teeth at Chris, making Chris think of an animal. In fact, sometimes he didn’t feel better that one. Chris could even feel the unforgiving hate that rose from Jon. And he felt the grip of unreasonable fear, so he stepped back.

“Don’t be so picky about it, man…. I’ll go wait in the living room.”

Hearing Chris walking down the hall to the living room, Jon went back to tend his wounds. Antiseptic, balm, bandages.

While waiting in the living room, Chris wondered about the covered-up walls and the collage spreading up to the sealing, making him think of a disease, menacing to engulf the lamp hanging from it.

Feeling a chill over his body, he decided to drop the matter, prepared a heater, and smoked some weed to kill time while he was waiting for Jon.

-:-

Jon put on a pair of boxers and went through his drawers. He was looking for those black, very baggy pants with all those pockets and bags patched to them. It was starting to annoy him, until he finally found them. He put up a white t-shirt with a long sleeve black one under it, and a warm black jacket (with even more pockets), tennis shoes, and some eyeliner. He then headed off to the living room to catch up with Chris.

“Ready?” Chris asked.

“Will it be crowded?”

“Probably… yeah…. I don’t know,” the high-pitched voice replied.

After hearing Chris’ reply, Jon stood thinking for a moment, then stuffed his pockets with not even the fourth share of the little cellophane bundles laying on the coffee table. He put the others in a plastic bag and took them to his room, where he hid them securely enough.

Emerging again from the shadowy corridor, he nodded to Chris and both headed to the door and out onto the street. They walked for about fifteen minutes with a quick pace to warm up.

“Sorry, Jon…okay? …I was just curious….”

Jon’s features softened. He turned his head to the guy walking next to him.

“It’s cool,” he said with a half smile.

The next five minutes passed by without further complications. The silence, stirred by Chris’ persistent voice: school, teachers, his girlfriend. It didn’t bother Jon. In fact, it made him smile. The persistent babbling brought memories of the girl to his mind.

“You remember what you told me about some girl someone found in the woods nearby?”

“Yeah, why?” Chris wondered.

“You said she was a mess…. What did you mean by that?”

“Well, for what I could see on the pictures -- which wasn’t that much -- she was cut wide open, sitting against a tree. It made me think someone had put her like that -- on display, you know -- in that grotesque, awful-looking position…. Hmmm.”

“And you liked what you saw?” Jon asked with honest curiosity.

His friend frowned, made a disgusted face, and rose his voice. “Fuck, Jon! That could have been my little sister! What kind of question is that?!”

“Just a question,” Jon’s tone full with sarcasm. “…Don’t get picky about it,” he added with mockery tone, repeating the same words Chris had assaulted him with a while ago. Chris just laughed out loud and patted Jon on the shoulder.

The night made Jon feel at ease with the feelings the memory of the girl had brought. He looked at the sky, searching for the moon, but it was a too clouded for the mother to be seen.

{ It will have to be soon…. }

// I know … //

“Jon, we’re here?”

“Ahh….”

When he looked up, he could see the house overflowing with people, hear the music playing in the bowels of it. People fooling around the garden, some puking on the lawn. Couples making out here and there.

“Good night for business, huh, Jon?” Chris laughed while they approached the house.

Stepping inside, the volume of the music and the smell of alcohol made Jon leave everything crossing his mind at the doorstep, and with a half smile went inside.

Chris was already making out with his girl, so Jon decided to move on and get something to drink. On his way to the kitchen, he ran into Nicole.

“Jonathan! Glad you came!” she cheerfully said to his ear while giving him a hug. “How have you been?” she mumbled while rubbing herself against him.

She was obviously drunk.

Letting go, Nicole stood in front of him and gave a flirtatious look. He eyed her tight jeans and the green top, which matched her eyes. Curly dark hair was brushing her shoulders.

He shrugged off the idea. She was what could be called a “good friend” to him.

“Hey, Nicole… on the house.” He handled her some, returning the flirtatious smile.

“Oh! Thank you!” she happily yelped, snatching it from Jon’s slender fingers.

Now the rumor would spread quickly, and it did. In two hours, Jon had sold everything in his pockets, carefully looking to keep enough for himself to spend the night.

He headed off to the bathroom and there he went through his pants and jacket, collecting all the money he had earned. He made a bundle with it and tucked it inside his jacket, zipping the pocket.

// Back on track // he thought while taking a leak.

-:-

Roaming around the house, he was finally able to snatch a bottle, courtesy of Nicole, of course, who gave it to him with high hopes. He just smiled at her.

Finally, Chris found him.

Heading for a nearby room, they sat on the floor by the narrow coffee table. They opened a bottle and drank directly form it while taking turns. They drank the bottle in company of Chris’ friends and some other familiar faces, who talked to him as if they had known each other for a long time. Soon, the vodka bottle was empty, so one of them took out a pipe and passed it over. It didn’t last long, tough.

“Hey, Jon, I know you always keep something after a good business night. C’mon…” Chris said with a numb tongue.

The seven guys sitting on the floor were looking at Jon intently. It made him feel like their pray.

He wasn’t thinking straight anymore. None of his thoughts made sense. At least, not most of them. He still grasped some of his surroundings, so he didn’t make a great deal of it.

Searching through all of the pockets of his pants, he finally slammed three cute-looking wrappings on it. They all had glittering eyes and seemed eager to put their hands on the items.

Jon’s hands were already numb, so Chris took charge of it.

In a moment, Jon had already sniffed three lines of the white crystals and it was hitting his brain. He sniffed another one, then rubbed the rest of it on his teeth so that not even a whisper would go to waste. He began to drink the contents of one of the glasses on the table, but alcohol now tasted like water to him.

The rest of the guys, now looking at him, were amazed at the amount of substances he had got on his system. It was too late to think about how much of it he had running through his veins now, for it was starting to hit him, too quickly.

He felt his heart racing and his head spinning. He tried hard to take hold of his surroundings. He lit a cigarette, but Chris snatched it from his trembling hands.

“Fuck, you’re freezing! …Enough, Jon.”

Jon managed to make out Chris’ silhouette against the light before he fell on the floor and passed out, sensing a lot of noise around him. He groaned when he felt someone helping him up. Jon fought to get on his feet. After an inhuman effort, he managed through it, and shoved the guy away.

He wanted to yell at them, he wanted to be left alone, but he couldn’t find his voice, he couldn’t force the sounds.

The voices arguing around made him feel ill. He fell and his head hit the floor harder this time. He could barely hear a voice; nothing but a mere whisper to him between the roar. And the blow to his head knocked him out.

“Leave him to me…. I’m taking him upstairs so he’ll sleep it off.”

Silence befell upon the arguing figures then.

The guy picked Jon from the floor and half carried him away.

Chris turned away, grabbed another drink, and went back to his fooling around while Jon’s unconscious figure was swallowed by the ignorant crowd.

Derek had a hard time taking Jon upstairs because of his own drunken state and because Jon, though very thin, seemed to be dead weight.

Derek decided his purpose was worth the effort.

Finally stumbling his way up the last five steps, he took a one-minute break to catch up his breath and eyed at Jon.

“You’re quite a beautiful whore…” Derek whispered while narrowing his eyes and smiling in triumph.

He looked around the hall for an available bedroom. Finding one at the end of the corridor, he passed Jon’s arm around his neck, snaking his own hand around the frailer form next to him for support. It still gave him a lot of trouble, with Jon constantly slipping from his arms. It took Derek almost fifteen minutes to get Jon into the bedroom and close the door behind them.

Derek took Jon to the bed and laid him down on his back, scrutinizing the narrow frame lying on the covers.

He took Jon’s jacket off and felt warm at what he saw: a frame so frail it could be easily broken.

He approached the bed, pulled at Jon’s legs and placed himself between them, feeling those warm thighs against his.

{Wake up}

Silence.

Derek bent over Jon and leading his hands under Jon’s two shirts, he roamed his flat belly and drank from the warmth.

{Wake!}

Jon groaned and tossed his head. His brains hurt like hell and his breathing was uneven.

He regained a little consciousness to someone tugging at his pants. He struggled to open his eyes to find out everything was in a blur.

Jon felt cold air crawling up his legs, shivered, and closed his eyes again. His body wouldn’t respond to him.

Taking advantage of the glimpses of wakefulness taking over his muscles, he tried to brush the unwanted hands away, just to feel his pinned harshly above his head and plunged again into slumber.

-:-

Downstairs, Chris fooled around some and then made his way through the crowd. He greeted Alex, who had just arrived, and dragged him to the living room, where his friends were showing off in another round of stupidity. It made Alex somewhat sick.

“Relax, man…. Grab a drink. I have to go check up on Jon….”

“Jon?”

“Friend of mine. He’s upstairs, unconscious,” Chris said between laughs.

Alex frowned and looked away to someone trying to get his attention, and watched Chris walk away through the back of his eye.

-:-

Derek spread Jon’s creamy thighs and threw them over his forearms, holding them still and positioning himself; and in one quick movement, he thrusted into Jon all the way in, closing his eyes to the tightness.

Jon stirred and cried out in pain, taking his hands to his face and arching his back while Derek thrusted faster and deeper into him.

“Shut up! You brought this on yourself “

-:-

Chris opened the door and froze at the scene. Derek pulled up his pants with nervousness and stunned face.

“Bastard!” Chris shouted while shoving him against the wall. “Shit, shit, shit…” Chris murmured while taking his hands to his head and pulling at his hair, totally sober now.

He went out to the corridor.

“Hey, Alex! Alex!” he yelled loud enough for him to be heard above the music.

Alex heard the alarm in Chris’ voice and ran upstairs. When he reached the room, he ran into Chris, who was fastening an unconscious Jon’s pants. He also noticed Derek trying to sneak past him.

The full force of the scene made him realize what had happened and without second thoughts, he jumped over Derek and pinned him against the floor, hitting his face with both fists until the visage under him was unrecognizable. He then continued to beat him even more while a wide smile shown on his well-defined features. He stood up and still kicked a curled-up Derek on the floor several times.

“Alex! Alex!”

Alex turned his head toward Chris with that unreadable smile still lingering on his lips.

//He’s as sick as Jon// Chris thought.

Then Alex looked at Jon still lying on the bed, with hands covering his face, and his smile disappeared to be replaced by a frown. He looked at Chris, who seemed to be in shock, walked to the bed, and bend over Jon, towering over his head.

“Jonathan?” he muttered the question almost to himself.

He stretched his left hand to tug at Jon’s, succeeding easily, and revealing Jon’s tightly closed eyes and tortured frown. He ran his fingers over the boy’s cheek softly.

“Would you help me to take him to his place?” Chris asked with shaky voice.

Alex nodded without diverting his gaze. Both picked up Jon, with care not to hurt him further. Chris was at Jon’s right, Alex at his left. Each took one of Jon’s arms around the neck and headed downstairs, ignoring Nicole’s persistent questioning. They knew she was worried, but they were in no mood to face her.

“We’re taking him home. You can ask him yourself later,” Chris answered in a hurry.

They finally achieved to make their way through the crowd and walked across the yard and out to the street. The fresh air was having its effect on Jon, who tried to straighten up his head and mumbled inaudible words.

Chris didn’t dare to speak; he felt ashamed and guilty.

{Wake up}

The three silhouettes walked silently down the streets. They could have been no more than shadows. Jon gave out a loud sigh and showed signs of wakefulness.

{Your senses….}

“Shut… up….”

“Jon, you awake?” the high-pitched voice asked, piercing his scull.

“Chris? My head’s killing me.”

Silence. Chris seemed to be thinking.

“Jon?”

“Hmmm….”

“Shit, I’m so sorry Jon…if--”

“Chris…” Jon interrupted, “look, don’t be. It wasn’t the first time, nor will be it be the last.”

Chris was stunned at what he had just heard. He felt bad for Jon. Alex was having a hard time sorting out his feelings.

“Ahh…the moon won’t talk to me anymore…. And the stars…. So stubborn.” Jon didn’t realize he was giving voice to his thoughts.

“Jon… you’re talking nonsense.”

Jon half smiled. A brief silence made its way between the three figures.

“Why won’t it talk to you anymore?” a musky voice wondered.

“I wonder….” Jon couldn’t keep his head up. “Maybe… because I keep asking the same questions…. Maybe… because I fear there’s a way out.” Now Jon’s smile was wide.

Alex smiled at the same time, feeling he understood the words muttered by Jon more than he wanted to admit to himself.

The rest of the way passed by in silence, except for Chris’ eventual whining about almost everything, but Alex sealed him off and focused on the pleasant warmth next to him.