His Broken Refuge

'And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand that everything's made to be broken, I Just want you to know who I am.'
I scream the lyrics at my dodgy car radio. Dust flies from the under cleaned speakers as I turn the volume louder and louder. I tap my thumbs rapidly against the black leather of the steering wheel, mimicking the thunderous drum beat. I wind down the windows and scream into the swarm of street goers, looming in the shadows of the immense skyscrapers. I feel their glares dot my skin like tiny bee stings.
The endless line of vehicles ahead of my small blue hatchback slows to an eerie stop. I lean my head out of the tiny window and scour for a car wreck or a squashed baby, something interesting to tell the psych. I slump back in defeat after noticing the flashing orange lights signaling roadworks at the intersection. "Just my luck."

It's always so awkward seeing Penelope, my unneeded hairy old good for nothing Psychologist. Every Wednesday I drive half an hour down the busy streets of Melbourne, always meeting my impending rush hour traffic, just to see a 70 year old bat crazy moustache lady that tells me 'It's okay. What you suffered as a homosexual teen is perfectly normal, stop having nightmares and stop thinking your special.' Bitch.
It's not normal to be sexually abused by your 20 year old boyfriend. It's not easy to just forget his clammy hands playing with me like a puppet. I don't want to be special, I wish every day that I could scratch his face off of the back of my eyelids just so I could sleep at night. But no, I'm just another gay head case the witch doesn't need.

I twist the volume down which lessens the glares I receive. Now it's my turn to give the favour.
All the blurry faces flit past my insignificant vehicle, places to go, people to see, Blah blah blah. A little girl catches my eye, her long ginger plaits following behind her freckled face. A big toothless grin rests between her rosy cheeks. She stares lovingly up at another of the blurry faces, her scarlet green eyes glint in the sunlight. I trail my eyes up the lean figure, sharpening his masculine features, taking in his exemplary physique. My gaze rests upon his recently shaved jawline before flicking up to his eyes. What the hell?
My hands start to tremble, my breath falls short, I try to look away but the memories are so vivid. Why is he here? Not now, Not now. After 5 years those deep blue eyes haven't changed.

"Get your faggot ass over here Frank! What's wrong? You pussy?" They toy with me, licking their lips, readying themselves to feast on fresh blood. I scramble along the dirtied pavement, away from the three savages. I spot one of the boy's feet weaving its way towards my lower ribcage but I'm too late to react. A whimper escapes my cracked lips. I throw my hands against my side to relieve the throbbing but a second blow reaches my skull before I can make it. Tears flow across my pale skin, stinging when they slip into the cut resting below my cheekbone. My body starts to quake under their hungry gazes but before they can throw a third hit something leaps out from the shadows and throws a punch of its own. The ringleader of the three tumbles down beside me, blood trickles from his visibly broken nose. I rest up on my elbows lifting my head ever so slightly as not to draw attention. I stare wide eyed at the boy, he wrestles the remaining two like a professional. One after the other they eventually meet their ally on the cement. Blood pools around the three of them but before I can let the carnage soak in I feel two strong hands wrap around my biceps. I clamber to my feet limply and gaze up at my rescuer.

"Are you okay Frank?" His voice melts through the air, softly fluttering into my ear drums. His deep blue eyes, flecked with scarlet and hazel, hypnotise me. His two day stubble rests immaculately against his sharpened jawline. A black mop of untamed hair nestles messily into his long black scarf. I wince again, my ribs are on fire. The boy throws my skinny arm around his neck. The warmth from his scarf quickly slows my shivering to a stop.

Soon we arrive back at Queen of Peace catholic college, also known as hell on earth. "Here we go Franky, don't get into any more trouble." Gently he lowers my arm from behind his neck. I feel my once tiptoed feet fall flat against the gravel. I squint up at him, looking at him from down here strained my already sore neck but before I looked away I caught him give me a pitying smile. "When can I see you again?"

"Uh, pardon me but I don't even know your name. I want to see you again though." My voice croaked with every syllable but the boy smiled lovingly down at me, the pain that was shooting through my body almost evaporated in his presence.

"I'm Gerard. You live in the apartment next door, two-hundred and twenty one B? Anyway, I hear you fighting with your mother sometimes." I turn away, feeling my cheeks turn a harsh shade of red. My mother never really liked the thought of her only son being 'a faggot' and she duly reminds me every day. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... Anyway, I'm proud of the way you stick up for yourself, I know how you feel." I notice his eyes drift as he says this. Does this mean he's gay too? I don't ask, but before I can say thank you he had already slipped away leaving me smitten.

...

"Gerard, baby, I'm over here."
It's been six months since I met Gerard, since he saved me from my nightmares, my everything. Today he is surprising me. I was to dress comfortably with a red rose in hand. We would meet at his family's beach shack, 11pm sharp. He delivered the rose to me this morning but I haven't seen him since.
It was twenty past eleven by the time he arrived, I couldn't help but feel worried about him. He jogged up to the steps and ushered me inside. My worry washed away with the calm tide but I still couldn't shake the feeling something was up. "Gee? What's up? You don't seem like yourself." I whispered gently to him as I shut the door behind us.

"I can't believe you Frank! Did you even bother to check your texts!" He never called me Frank. Always franky or some other cute pet name he had given me.

"I, I didn't even think, I'm so sorry, I thought I was supposed to meet you here, with your rose?" I offered it to him, as a peaceful gesture. He had never been this tense before but I knew he was having a rough time at work and his mum kicked him out a couple of weeks earlier. But he never growled at me, not even a grunt. He always gave me his undivided love but I guess I never knew how to return it.

"Fuck the rose Frank!" he whacked it out of my hand furiously. I stumbled to the floor in shock, my eyes started to well with tears. This was such a new feeling. Heartbreak. "I just got fired Frank! But clearly you don't care, It's always about you. 'poor little Franky, his little rose fell on the ground' I'm sick of this!"

"Gee, I'm so so sorry, I love you so mu-" Before I can finish he throws his fist toward me. It collides with my nose. I clench my fists and start to bawl, what have I done?"

"You don't love me, don't be so pathetic! You're just sick of being picked on for being a fag. You used me Frank, you used me." He paced back and forth in front of me, rubbing his hands together, he was shaking.

"Gerard, this isn't you." I sniffled. I started to smell the alcohol on him now. "Are you drunk, Gee?" He turned towards me, his eyes glued to my ribs. I looked away, I hated seeing him like this. One blow. Another. Another. I started to shake, I was having a panic attack. My breath fell short, tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. I felt hollow. He was all I ever loved, he was the only person who made me feel safe.
He walked away again.
I pushed myself up against the hard, wooden door. I didn't want to leave him, I didn't want to believe that he had caused me so much pain. I would've preferred those big blue eyes lied to me, I wish I could hate him but I can't. I never will.

"I don't love you Frank. I never have. But I pity you, I was always reminded of myself when I kissed you, when I felt your hips move with mine. You're so naïve, so pathetic. " He hit me again and again. With every fistful my life fled from me. I tried to find a distraction, it'll all be over soon.

The radio fizzled on behind my screams. Or maybe it was already on and I never noticed it behind my sobbing. I focused my rage on the lyrics, the sweet droning slowly released my tension. This is our song now.

'And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand that everything's made to be broken, I Just want you to know who I am.' The song crackled to the end as I shook myself out of my recollection.
The traffic started to move again, I slowly rolled past him, past those memories. It wasn't him, It couldn't be.