For Love

I wrote this today when I was in an angry mood because of stupid people on my street.

Kinda rape, passing necrophilia, violence, angst, double-death.

Read if you dare, you have been forewarned.

***

The boy screamed as he was knocked back against the wall, his head ringing from the force of the blow. His head cracked against the wall and he hoped he wasn't bleeding again. That just made it worse. Gingerly feeling the back of his head he was horrified to see it come back with the dark red of blood lingering in his palm.

He quickly tried to hide it but it was too late. His aggressor had seen it.

The boys eyes widened as he saw the demented smirk grow on the mans face. His eyes widened almost comically before returning down to slits, the only emotion visible was lust.

Lust to hurt. Lust to rape. Lust to kill.

The teen had almost gotten used to being beat, sadly enough it was a semi-regular occurrence since he was a child. Being hit when he spoke, hit when he didn't speak. Slammed against walls for something he didn't do, locked in closets for doing as he was told.

He was almost surprised no one had noticed his random disappearances and bruises, but then again, they all must have their own problems.

The man kicked him in the stomach and he could feel a rib or two break. He suppressed the urge to double over in pain; he knew from experience that was one of the worst things to do.

While he was distracted, again, with the pain, the man had reached over next to the bed and taken out his weapon of choice; his baseball bat. He never cleaned it, so it was always dirty with blood; rust; other unidentifiable substances, or substances you didn't want to identify.

He screamed in pain when the bat was drawn back and slammed back into his arm, shattering the bones. He whimpered and tried to find a place to hide, but the bat was back too soon and smashed into his knee, making him give another ear-shattering cry.

Sobbing and not having any idea what to do he finally realized that this was most likely when he was going to die. Mentally cursing he wished that somehow, some way he could get out of here, but no, that was impossible.

The man dropped the baseball bat with a metallic clang and dropped to his knees, crawling towards him with a serious look on his face. He touched the teens shattered knee causing him to let out another cry of pain and more tears.

Slowly lifting his hand he cupped his cheek and said, "I love you, you know?"

Quickly moving his head away from the touch he looked up at the ceiling. This happened every time. It was never as bad as this, never hurt as much as this. He said he loved him, he said he needed him, and yet...and yet.

"I know." he whispered.

"I have to do this."

With that the man moved his hands to the teens throat and began strangling him. It was fine for a few seconds, staying calm, almost like holding your breath, but after awhile it became more painful. He tried to release a little of the air in his lungs, and then immediately tried to gasp in another breath, but was prohibited by the tight hold.

His vision fading fast the man let go as his eyes rolled into his head, fainting briefly. The man picked him up, ignoring all the odd angles of the broken bones, or any more internal injuries he could be causing he threw him on the bed.

The slight jolt for a normal person sent all of the boys injuries on fire, waking him up with another scream. Panting and looking around he noticed that he had been undressed and cursed again, his eyes watering; he was sure to be crying in a moment.

The man undid his pants and moved toward him, lifting his hips causing his ribs to grate against each other. That pain, the whole pain his body was already in, was many times worse than that of the man pushing inside of him unprepared.

There was another jolt when the man started moving, and it made him cough, red staining the sheets. Once he started to cough he couldn't stop.

After a little bit he was almost silent. His breathing was extremely shallow, especially compared to the man panting on top of him. A small stream of blood made its way out of the side of his mouth. His eyes were faded, a soullessness creeping into them like a shroud of death.

Finally, fully, his breathing stopped with one loud, last gasp and rattle of exhaled breath.

The man knew that he had died, had known that he would probably die, but that didn't stop him. After a few more thrusts he came inside his boy, his love, his all.

Drawing out he looked down at the corpse. It was still beautiful. He was still beautiful.

Pounding at the door suddenly broke the peaceful silence. When there was no reply the people on the outside slammed open the door.

"What are you-" they trailed off looking at the scene on the bed.

The man was sitting with the teen, holding him close. "I love him." he whispered, leaning down to kiss the corpse. When he drew away there was blood on his lips, transferred from the side of the teens corpses mouth.

"You're-how could you?" a female took a step closer, horrified at the scene.

She glanced back at the group who was still standing in shock. How could they have missed this? How long had this been going on? Why had he not said anything? How could this be happening?

Suddenly there was a sound from the bed and she looked back quickly just to see him drag a knife across his throat.

A cough sprayed out more blood, the red liquid moving to coat everything. Slowly, still holding onto the corpse he lay them both down on the bed.

The group watched in horror as one last, blood red kiss was made, the words "I love you" mouthed, unable to be spoken from the cut vocal cords.

As the last signs of life faded from him there was complete silence.

No one knew what had happened, or how it happened, and would never know now that they both were dead.

No words would ever be spoken again.

***

End