It took all the courage I had within me to force myself to speak. "E-Evan, pl-please s-stop, I d-don't know i-if I w-want this--"
He grabbed onto my chin harshly, soft fingers now calloused digits as he squeezed my cheeks tight enough to keep me from speaking. My heart nearly stopped in its tracks before surging back into its rapid beating again. "You told me that you wanted me, you can't just go back on your word. You want me, and I didn't have to waste my time on you, I didn't have to do anything with you, but I did and you should be grateful. There are so many other beautiful people in the world, you and I both know this, so you should be thanking me for even bothering to touch something as repulsive as your body, of all things."
His voice was different from the one he'd always used on me before, so much so that I could no longer connect its sound to his face. He spoke as if he had venom imbedded in his vocal chords, and when his eyes connected with mine for a split second, it was enough time for me to realize why. His eyes were no longer the bright, sparkling topaz that I'd come to recognize as my favorite color. They were green, a vibrant, eerily luminous acidic color, one similar to a concoction in a scientist's beaker when things were mixed wrong.
Something was wrong.
"You don't look too good," he noted as he studied me, and I wondered if the sickness churning inside my stomach had reflected itself upon my face. His eyebrows narrowed as a look of utter disgust overcame him. "I don't like the look on your face. Stop pouting, stop being a little bitch. Smile for me, Blondie--show me how beautiful you are, show me why I should take you right now. Show me why you're good enough for me."
I could hardly comprehend the horror I was enduring right then. I just stared up at the merciless gaze above me, wondering how I had ever considered it beautiful. Wondering how I had let it lure me away from my safetynet, wondering how I had allowed myself to succumb to the bewitchment of the bubbling green swamps his eye sockets held.
"Show me why I shouldn't just kill you right now."
It was him--Jesus Christ, it was him.
The blood in my veins had frozen into thin streams of ice. I could hardly focus on the man--the monster above me. His demands made no sense to my scattered mind, and his threats only made my thoughts run slower.
"You lazy son of a bitch, you lowly piece of shit, you just want everyone to do everything for you. You just want the whole goddamn world to fall to your pathetic little feet. Well, I'm here to teach you right--how to teach you to stop messing up, stop screwing everything up. How do you think you got yourself in this predicament, huh?" He shook me harshly, slamming my head roughly against something metal. "You messed up. You fucked up, you little faggot, and now you're going to fix it, and you can start by sucking my cock."
My ears picked up on the sharp sound made by an unzipped zipper, and my body was brought back to feeling again as the monster began shaking his hips against me as he attempted to shuck his pants from his hips.
"N-no, n-no, please, please--" I begged, my voice growing shrill as I tried to wriggle away from him, but his knees pressed sharply into my hips, the unbearable pressure he was applying to the bones making me grow weak from the pain.
"Shut up, shut the fuck up, do I have to tell you again about opening your pathetic little mouth?"
"No, G-God, no, p-please--"
"Unless you're about to suck dick, keep it fucking shut. Jesus Christ, you're making this a lot more difficult than it has to be--"
"Let m-me go, p-please, please, you're hurting me--" I sobbed, and he shoved my head against the wall several more times. I grew dizzy after the fourth collision and fell silent.
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Healing Gabriel (BoyxBoy)Teen Fiction
Haunted. Terrified. Alone. Those three words seem to be the only emotions that seventeen year old Gabriel Adams knows how to feel. At the age of thirteen, when other boys were chasing after pretty girls and playing in the dirt, Gabriel had been kidn...