YOU PROMISED ME FOREVER -- Sequel to "DIFFERENT"

7 -- PEACE FOR THE WICKED

Warning  --  Description of Violence.

"You really need to learn to defend yourself better, Laurent"  the voice boomed over him as he lay, gasping, holding his sore and aching ribs, sprawled across the concrete floor.  He raised his head as much as he could, only to find his vision blurred by a warm, thick trickle of blood, seeping from the gash in his head.  

"Why you do this ?"  he asked, not really expecting an answer, but to his surprise, he got one anyway.

"Because you're a fucking pussy, Laurent.  You get beat up, time after time, again and again, and you won't defend yourself ?  You need to toughen up.  Why will you not defend yourself ?"  The answer turned into a question.

"I don't need to.  I don't believe in violence.  I use my words.  All I need."  he choked, blood from his split lip and his bitten tongue spat on to the ground in front of him.

"Look where that got you, huh ?  Your words no good from where I'm standing.  How much of this will you take before you fight back, bitch !"  

"Till I'm dead, probably."  He snorted a derisory laugh, ironically that that would be when he eventually gave up.  He lay motionless, not having enough energy to move, his limbs heavy, achy and sore, his ribs hurt when he breathed, and his head was fucking killing him.  He was getting used to the taste of blood in his mouth too, the warmth and taste of iron was comforting in some perverse way.  He realised an open hand was in front of his face then, a helping hand, for him to grab and pull on, to help him up from the ground.  He grabbed it, and it pulled his full weight upwards, his feet finding themselves again, able now to stand and support himself. 

"Why you so hard on me, bro ?"  

"You need someone hard on you, Lau.  You a pussy.  You need to defend yourself against those fucking bullies.  If you can deal with me, you can deal with them."

"Does it look like I dealing with you ?"  he laughed, tasting blood again, touching his split bottom lip, hissing from the pain his ribs caused him as he laughed.

"What am I gonna do with you, Lau ?"  his oldest brother questioned him, "This ain't making one bit of difference, is it ?  You won't defend yourself, even against me ?"  Marc was incredulous at Laurent's stoicism, his ability to stick steadfastly to his principals, even in the face of getting beaten to a pulp.  It wasn't a life or death situation, but one day it might be.  

"Especially not against you, Marc.  Unlike you, I don't get off on beating the crap outta my little brother"

Their mama pitched a hissy fit when they walked through the door.

"Oh, my God, Laurent !!  What they do to you now ?!  That's it, I'm telling the school !  I can't deal with this anymore, here have a seat.  I fix you up, my poor baby !"

"No mama, I find him, I fix him"  Marc insisted.  It was the least he could do, as he was the one that had caused Laurent's injuries.

"Don't call the school, mama, it'll only make it worse.  I'll have a "mama's boy" target on my back then as well."  Laurent pleaded, knowing she wouldn't if he asked her not to.  Marc felt bad then, not that he shouldn't have felt bad enough beating Laurent to a pulp anyway.  But he saw a tear roll from his mama's eyes then, and he realised he was hurting her too.  OK, this stops now, he told himself.  He was trying to help, he thought.  Tough love.  Toughen his brother up, get him to defend himself from the constant bullying he endured at school, because he danced, and he was gay.  He was smart, and sensitive, and kind, and gay.  A deadly combination in the Sarcelle hood, and for all the wrong reasons.