A Cure Of Mine - D.D. Dass (large ebook reader .TXT) 📗

me. Won’t need any fresh cuts tonight I think with a pained smile. “F-feel satisfied na’?” My voice has never sounded as raw. Huh.

“Think you’re pretty little faggot?” Not at all. The taller, bald man with an itchy looking goatee retorts, grabbing a handful of my hair and dragging my face into the rubble. A whimper falls passed my lips, it hurts, but it hurts so good. “Not so pretty anymore.” I snort a bit, more thick liquid trickling onto my lips.

“You’ll be sorry ‘bout this.” Another man, much smaller, with dark hair kicks me in the side once more.

“What you gonna do? Bring your little boyfriend for us? Oh, I’m shakin’ in my boots.” They laugh, the sounds like the chalk screeching on the chalkboard to my ears.  

“TJ, Matt, let’s go! Leave the poor kid alone!” A distant, shrilly voice calls. Little late, lady. The three sprint away. For some time, I simply lay there…but then there’s Ally. I recoil, shuffling backwards even as I take in the sight of my little-sister. She’s dressed in her usual outfit, a black Asking Alexandria sweater, loose ratty black jeans, and scuffed Converses. Her strawberry blonde hair still covers her right eyes as she peers down at me, green eyes concerned.

‘Oh Isaac…’ the winds whisper is my sister’s gentle voice. It makes me sick. With a deep, shuddery breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, inwardly chanting, she’s not there, she’s not there, and when I open my eyes again…She isn’t. It makes me want to cry. With a groan, I sit up, scrubbing the blood from my nose with the back of my uniform blazer before pulling out another cigarette and sucking on it. The crystals are fading –leaving me alone with the harsh cold. The pain in my body however, is bound to keep me up all night, which is fine.

Standing on wobbly legs, I make it over to my car to find the cashier from earlier sitting outside smoking her own toxic stick as she sniffles, eyes oozing tears. When she sees me, she inhales sharply, wiping hastily at the traitor tears.

“’m alright,” I tell her quietly when she scrambles forward, obviously worried by my appearance. “’m so sorry from being…the way I am. Don’t take that to heart…’cause to be completely honest, it’s just the way I am. Just, shit, um go back inside, forget you ever saw me –or just punch me in the face to get it all out.” I give her the chance, standing there awkwardly but she just looks startled and I really need to get home, so I turn and enter my car, reversing and driving off, ignoring the dazed look that I felt on my face. It wasn’t –I-I’m a mess.

At home, I carefully pad up the staircase and to the bathroom, thankfully unseen. In the mirror, I can tell my nose is crooked and with the heel of my hand I quickly set it, vision swirling at the pain. Suddenly, when I’ve finished washing the blood of my face, left with swollen skin and raised skin –soon to be scratches, Nathan, my seven year old brother, comes crashing into the bathroom.

“You’re in trooouuuubleee,” he mocks childishly. I shrug, passing him to enter my room where I change my white button up with one that’s not dyed with blood or dirt. It’s an everyday thing with my father, to dress appropriately, the way a man should. At thirty eight years, Richard looks like the male version of me, since I’ve taken the feminine attributes of my mother, who’d looked like a baby doll all her short life. Cropped brown hair, mossy green eyes, a strong jaw and worried brows, my father seems like an average well off American. Except, he isn’t really. Richard had grown up around his alcoholic parents with a lot of physical abuse, so he’d pushed himself to be “perfect”, never having drank, smoked, missed a day of work, or breakfast, or lunch, or dinner…No matter what. It was perfection in his own perspective, I guess.

I find myself looming before the dining room, where Richard sits at the head of the long wooden table. His face is darkened with anger, clear as an open book. With a heavy sigh, I make my way into the cold room just as Jane bustles in. “Where have you been?!” My stepmother is a short, average looking woman. Everything from her light brown hair, fair skin, and dainty figure speaks as much. The only above average attribute to Jane: her pretty, gun metal gray eyes. Eyes that are alarmed as she rushes over to me. I’m taller than her by an inch or so, about five foot five, so she easily inspects my face with warm hands.

“Isaac! What happened?” Jane is always so good to me, much more than I deserve. For that, I adore her, so my tone is soft when I speak.

“I fell.” She doesn’t even pretend to look convinced.

“Does it matter what happened, Jane? The God damned boy disrespected his teacher and has now earned a dent in his records. Wednesday School, Isaac Hastings. What will the College Board think?” It’s always come down to the College Board, I’d be dying and it’ll still be, “what will the College Board think, Isaac?".

Jane shoots him a hard glare. “Richard, let Isaac speak. Now, what happened to your face first, young man?”

I grimace at the last part. “We were playing dodge ball in Gym and I was the unlucky sucker who got a hit to the face with the ball,” I lie easily.

“Must’ve been a hard pitch.”

“The hardest,” I agree dryly, trying not to recall the toe of the boot that’d slammed into my face.

“Yes, now that that’s settled, what the hell happened in class today? This isn’t like you, Isaac.” I never turn my attention on my father; instead I wring my hands together anxiously.

“I only asked Mr. Lerwick a question, father.” Richard.

“And that question would be?” I grit my teeth, still unable to meet his patronizing gaze.

“If he got off on my embarrassment…?”

My father must be glaring at this point, but before I can even try to look up and see, he’s left the room, slamming the front door behind him. I know he’s going to vent his anger, at the gym, or work, he’s done this often when I’ve been stupid.

“Well then, that went well. Dinner’s ready, let’s eat, shall we?” I don’t answer, letting Jane chatter on about what was made for us today. It makes me nauseous but I still force a few bites of pasta down, not wanting to hurt her feelings. It’s over quickly, Nathan stealing the spotlight, and I’ve never been so grateful for him. It’s easy to excuse myself at that point and trudge up the steps to take a shower. The water’s scolding on the healing skin of my wrist and bruising body, but I wash twice, trying to scrub all feeling away, it doesn’t work, instead I find myself in more pain before. Go figure.  Outside, my blonde hair hangs, soaking in my face, so I roughly dry it before going into my room and dressing into some type of designer boxers my drawers have been stocked with, tattered sweats, and a heavy, loose knit sweater.

From there, I calmly sit at my desk, and begin to write to Ally.

Ally,

Saw you again today. Why do you always have to look so damned worried? I’m fine. Well, as close as I can be at this point, okay? Did you watch those guys trash me? Guess a sharp tongue isn’t so useful after all…That wasn’t funny was it? Ha. It’s been a long day…long, long, long. But I got through it. The coke dose wasn’t very heavy and I only took the blade to my skin once. I don’t know what I’m saying or why. Sorry bout that. I’m just…lost and tired. So tired…Just wanna –wanna escape. Wanna fly or float where nothing touches me...Yeah, yeah, I’ll write you tomorrow…

Missing you always,

Isaac .xx

I finish numbly, uncurling my finger to calmly curl into a ball in the middle of my bed. Without the duvet, I don’t feel confined into myself, but the cold curls around my figure, leaving me trembling. My mind short-wires and suddenly, I’m thinking of Rosa. I miss her. I miss being able to be the rock to support her…It’s been a long year without seeing her every day, or being lucky to even see her once during the month. But it doesn’t worry me much, not when she’s got Bastien to support her. Bastien. The name drags back unknown memories…JasonJason…Who the hell is Jason? The word flashes through my mind and it fucking hurts! Like…like fire sinking into my chest…trying to find that horribly weak point…Jason.

The weak point is never found, because my temples throb mercilessly in a headache and I gasp. Hangover is the last bitter thing I think before my eyes fall shut and I sink into the only actual calm I can ever find. 

Take Me Home, Back To 'im (Jason)

Colorado surrounds me. Something weird stirs in my heart, which is deafeningly loud in my ears, beating crazier than usual. My speed is languid as I exit the terminal, staring through the glass walls. Everything is exactly how I remember it: the same mountains, same trees, middle-class town. All the same. I don’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed.

As I wait for my brother, backpack being the only luggage I’ve returned with, I think back to the last time I’d been here. A year gone seemed much longer than I’d first thought.

‘Fire crackles before my eyes, aguish threatening to crush my lungs, back in that fucking barn. Mineminemine is all I can manage to think as I tear through the forests on my feet, finding myself before the collapsing structure. Following my instinct, I slip passed the cricketing (what used to be) slide door. The first thing I set on is my mate, and it feels like something has burst inside me, if I find him in less than perfect condition…Somebody would pay.

I waste no time. I work quick and everything blazes over me. My canines grow in but I barely feel them, focused on mine. There’s no time, it seems for revenge…I have to make sure he’s safe as well as the woman at his side. I know this woman, but it’s hard to place a name in my rage. Instead, I shifted to grab them both up and carry them out, about to leave with the distinct French words…Bastien.

First Isaac then I’ll go back. And I did…I did, except I’d gone in for two and come back with one…’

 I remember how crazy the choice had made me, but now, I know there wouldn’t have been a choice, not with a bonded male. Yet, Rosa’s father (who I now knew was my uncle) had saved his daughters mate…It was all I could’ve asked for, that my best-friend and his mate were alive. Though my own mate was a much more…screwed up story all together. The mark over my left pectoral felt ablaze almost all hours of the day, a sign of his pain, and I tried to ignore it the best I