How To Rape A Straight Guy by Sullivan, Michel (phonics reader .TXT) 📗

anything, so I wrapped him in the sheet that was on the bed.  It was bloody, but it worked okay.  Then I tore that fuckin’ room apart till I found a set of keys to the cuffs ‘round my hands an’ wrists, an’ I got them off me.  Then I realized I was feelin’ cold, too.  An’ remembered I was still butt-fuckin’ naked.  Standin’ in front of two dead men sloshed in blood.  An’ one of ‘em was still lookin’ at me.  Wayne.  His eyes were open an’ his mouth was almost in a sneer, like he was mockin’ me.

Oh, shit, I had to get out of that room.  Right then.  But no fuckin’ way was I gonna leave Shayes there.  So I picked him up like I did before an’ carried him into the condo.

I carried him up to the master bathroom, ran a hot tub of water an’ lay him in it.  An’ noticed blood in the water.  It seemed like an awful lot, so I checked him.  Found it was comin’ from his ass.  Guess I did do some damage.  Or maybe Lenny or Wayne did with some of their toys.  Probably more like what those fucks’d do.  Didn’t matter.  I only hesitated a second before I began to bathe him.  I held his head up like you do a baby’s an’ smoothed some elegant smelly lather ‘cross his chest an’ down his abs an’ over his pubes an’ into his butt an’ under his arms an’ up an’ down his legs.  Nice legs, I remember thinkin’, twenty years ago; good form to ‘em -- which was a fucked up thing to be thinkin’ at that moment.  I did it like I’d been doin’ it for him all my life.  Then I washed his hair with some “salon” shit an’ rinsed it out, oh-so-carefully -- didn’t want any to get into his eyes.  When I was done, I propped him on my lap an’ used a couple of thick towels to dry him off.  They were nothin’ like his perfect towels an’ I hated usin’ ‘em on him, but they were all I could find.  Dunno why I did all this shit, but for some reason I...I -- shit, I just wanted him clean.

I lay him on the bed then dug through Wayne’s clothes, found some sweat pants an’ matchin’ hooded shirt, an’ I slipped them on him.  They were tight -- which surprised me; I thought Wayne was bigger ‘n that.  But they fit well enough.  He didn’t react to anything I did.  Then I left him there, in sight of the tub, an’ I took a shower.  A long hot shower.  Keepin’ an eye on him the whole time.  He didn’t budge.

I don’t remember havin’ anything like a real deliberate thought, at the time I was still too freaked out at what I’d done, but now I can see -- I know I was beginnin’ to hurt for him.  For what I’d done to him.  They’d done to him.  We’d done to him.  I knew what it meant.  For him.  What it was gonna mean.  Funny thing is, I wasn’t exactly sorry that it happened.  I was just sorry it had to happen like it did.  If that makes sense.

No.  No, it doesn’t.  It can’t.  It’s a crazy fuckin’ thing to even think.

I taped my cut together an’ wrapped a washrag to it to help stop the bleedin’ before I grabbed some of Wayne’s clothes.  An’ stopped.  If they barely fit Shayes, they weren’t gonna fit me.  But my jeans an’ shirt an’ shit were all in that -- that room.  No choice in the matter; I needed ‘em.

I wrapped a towel ‘round me an’ headed back down.  I opened the back door an’ started across the tiny-assed yard an’ got up to the door.  It’d almost closed so I couldn’t see inside; all it’d take is a gentle push to open the door...but I froze the second I touched it.  My mind was back to functionin’ enough to know if I went in there I’d have to face the fact that I -- I was a killer.  A murderer.  Times two.  Yeah, yeah, I know -- I did it in self-defense.  Sort of.  They’d have killed me if I hadn’t killed them.  Yap, yap, yap.  I still put myself in a situation where it could’ve happened.  No, where it was bound to happen.  No excuse for that.

I was a killer.

A fuckin’ killer.

Holy shit, that hit me like a ton of bricks.  Lenny an’ fuckin’ Wayne.  Dead.  Murdered.  By me.  Aw shit, shit, shit, I never wanted anything like this to happen.  Swear to God, I didn’t.  We were just gonna fuck with a guy who’d fucked with us.  How’d it slam into such a crash an’ burn?

‘Cause fuckin’ Wayne thought he so fuckin’ smart, he could fuck with me.  That’s how.  He thought I was just some dumb-as-dirt ex-con who didn’t have a clue on how to take care of himself.  That stupid -- stupid-shit son-of-a-bitch.  Shit.

Except he was right.  I didn’t know how to take care of myself.  I was so full of the idea that I was in control, I lost all control.  I got pulled around like some puppet who thinks it’s the one decidin’ where it walks an’ when it talks an’ how its life’s gonna go.  But once again, the second I thought I was makin’ my own decisions an’ choices, I got the rug pulled out from under an’ landed square in the shit.  An’ now?  Now I didn’t know what the fuck to do.

That’s when my brain shut down.  Went into blank mode, again, an’ gave me a breather.  That’s when instinct took over in a cold clear way.  First off, I needed somethin’ to wear.  Wayne’s an’ Lenny’s clothes’d be too small for me; shit, they were too small for Shayes, an’ he’s