stare

The world had been sad these past few days, and the meadow and the depressed sky merged into one great grey scheme to meet the calm eternal flow of the babbling brook that mirrored the erect lifelessly bare trees; the enfeebled light was struggling to break through the warlock-black clouds, and our conjoined shadows were becoming one with the darkness—though we continued strolling silently on the carpet of leaf-litter, and with every hare step came the melody of the crisp, crunch of leaves rustling under our boots, and the whirring midges and the chirping bell crickets and the buzzing bees courting their flowers were all oddly satisfyingly delightful to my ear—I was not quite sure if he enjoyed the sound the way I did. And the delicious sweet smell of pollen raced in the gust of wind. And it was the unsubtle isolation from the gilded planet that made me wary of this date; and the flashing fireflies guided us onto the roads of the forests and it got colder, and the lady in white comes in, bringing a draft with her.

“It’s time for dinner,” says she, smiling.

I avert my eyes from the window onto her. Her teeth, white like immaculate pearls. Her skin, flawless as ivory. Her long braided blonde hair whips the wind. Her breasts jiggle; I giggle. She shakes her hips hither and thither. Her thighs wiggle; I giggle. I would eat anything they offer. As long as she feeds me, I’d eat. Only she can feed me, nobody else. “I want you to drink your medicine. After eating your meal, of course.” I smile then nod, but I’d much prefer to have meal with her. Or her as my meal. Or me as her meal. I wonder how she’d taste like. I bet she’d taste like chicken. She’d taste better with my gravy. “Open your mouth.” The hot rice on the spoon touches the roof of my mouth, but I don’t care. Everything’s better when it’s hot anyway. She keeps feeding me, and I keep chewing and swallowing and chewing and swallowing like a good boy. And then she lifts a half-full and half-empty, half-filled cold glass of water onto my puckered mouth. And its dew drips onto my new pretty, pretty blue shirt with pretty, pretty pink square patterns.

Once she decides I’m well-fed, it’s time for my antipsychotic medicine. They all tell me I’m craaazy, but I am not. I’m…not…crazy—no, I am not. I haven’t lost control of my mind…yet. I am not mad; I am mad at them for thinking that I am mad. I’m just gifted. I see things what others can’t. I see the reality of things. And I can see that she’s leaving me again. Does she not know how intimate our relationship now is? She always leaves me, and I miss her. I miss her already and she hasn’t even left yet, and I can’t take this anymore.

“If you need anything, you know which button to press,” smiling, she leaves.

***

I am like a three-year old kid

and he’s the monster under my bed

***

Then it was time to sleep.
But the dead naked trees were staring at me, talking—

Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah.

—and I was staring at the calm flowing water, which reflected the dead naked trees—those that were staring at me—and their dead leaves, in synchronize, swirled around my feet—or was I the one swirling? Or the world was swirling with the dead leaves, and I was floating? The thing is I started walking, and I kept walking and walking and then running and running, and everywhere I gazed they were gazing back—it’s because of the trees that’s why I was running—their stares were scaring me and it seemed like the trees’ stares were chasing me—and I was panting, but I did not feel any exhaustion, so I kept running and running and the trees kept staring and staring—they all have eyes, the trees of course—some of them has one eye, some has two, some has three eyes, some has four, up to five or more. It was really, really hard to count their eyes—those eyes that were staring—while running. Or were they just holes with built-in light bulbs? But the point is that they were staring at me. And I was scared. So I was still running. Everything was inexorable. Everything was black. Pitch black. But trust me their eyes were staring at me because I can see them because they’re glowing like red light bulbs—

Then, dead trees’ branches started to swirl—still staring and talking.

Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah. Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah.

Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah. Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah. Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah.

Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah. Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah.

Blah blah. Blah. Blah blah.

—and then the branches that swirled stalked me, and it kept swirling and stalking and stalking and then everything’s gone—

—pitch black. And it got hotter, and then it got hotter. And hotter.

        A breeze of hot air, the sweet, sweet stench attacked my face. And a smut got into my eyes, and I closed my eyes and I opened them, and I am lying on my bed and so is he, staring at me with his sparkling, bright blue eyes that stand out the most. And his straight brunette hair looks so soft. But why is he copying me? You are starting to irritate me   no you are   no you   no you   no you   you   you are   you   why are you even here again   the same reason why you’re still here   but this is my special room mine mine mine   I know but it’s so comfy here and the walls are made of soft material and everything’s white and plain and quiet and I feel safe here so I come here   I pull my hair and so does he. This is very very very frustrating you should stop   no you stop   you have to stop   no you stop you’re hurting me   stop   please   please

        I close my eyes. I wish you were gone! Then, I open my own blue eyes.

        Like a bubble that had popped, he disappears.

The Moonlight comes in, and I am drawn into it. Then, I am staring out the barred window and no one’s going to hear me out there   no one’s gonna hear you here   he tackled me onto the damp earth   I loved how he’s being resistant. No one’s gonna hear you here. He tried clamping legs, he tried kicking me, scratching, he tried punching me, but I was much stronger and bigger than him. I laid on top of him and he became immovable   his right hand held both of my hands on top of my head; his left hand holding a piece of clothing chemically saturated with chloroform covered my mouth and nose—so sweet, it was dizzying   he tried crying out loudly, asking for help; it fueled my desire   no one is going to hear me here   I felt his nerves vibrating and I could smell the stench of his tears—it turned me on. No please don’t he begged no one’s gonna hear you here I started stripping him off   I begrudgingly begged with my exposed, smutted body   I licked his salty cheeks   Why is he smiling? I could barely breathe now. Panting, I tried to push him away but it was useless. Groans were escaping my mouth   his hard breathing is all I could pay attention to. The smirk on my cheek grew bigger as my private member thumped. I threw the chloroformed clothing to the side   all I could hear were my lungs inhaling and exhaling and my heart was exploding and the striking wind soughing through the creaking trees and the fresh water perpetually flowing and all my hairs tried abandoning my shaking body   all dirty and shaking and moaning, I tried thrusting in—he looked inviting   I screamed in pain, my face all gnarled   he moaned   he erupted in me

I wanted to fight but my body shakingly failed me. I felt seething hatred towards another being. I felt the wet warmth in my mouth being wholly dominated by its Explorer; I wanted to bite the Exploiter.

I stared blankly at the depressed, crying sky.

*****

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.   You’ll be fine.   Rich boys don’t go to prison.

*****

“The patient in room 419 gives me the chills,” said the new female worker in pretty, pretty blue shirt with pretty, pretty pink square patterns, showing complete repugnance with the complexion of her face.

        The tikitikitak-tikitak-tak of the keyboard and the clickiclicks of the mouse surrounded the quiet facility, with the distant ticks and tocks of the clock hanged on the plain, white wall that hints 11:42 at night.

        “Why is that, Kate?” responded Amanda, the lady with white hair behind the desk, subconsciously adjusting her glasses while giving her co-worker a quick glance.

        “Well,” Kate gulped a big air through her nose while Amanda continued to input the stacks of paperwork in front of her onto the computer, finishing up the patients’ daily reports for the doctor to view the next morning.

        Kate exhaled loudly and claimed, “He’s a rapist, remember?” She leaned on the edge of the high-rise front desk, putting her head on her right palm for support. “It’s like he wants me to be one of his victims. He just creeps me out.”

        “You just have to deal with it. You’ll get used to it—I’m sure.”

        “How did he end up here anyway?” Kate queried.

        “He thinks he was raped by another male predator, though I doubt that’s the case. He’s just really rich, Kate, so I think his parents would never want him to be imprisoned.”

        Another woman in her mid-forties walked by, pushing a cart with dirty dishes, “Heeyy, y’all bootyful ladies! Ah took dem deh-tee dishes from dem ain’t not so craAazzy folks. En Ah tell y’all, dis damn cart ain’t no joke—iz heavy,” she bragged, making the most sound she could with the cart, speaking very softly but still loud. “Let me just put dis here,” she uttered, “en get me some quick rest fo’ mah knees en back,” added the woman, struggling. “Mkay, what we gonn’ talk ‘bout tonight?” She smiled, showing a big diastema between her two front teeth.

        “Oh, Kate here was just saying that the patient in room 419 creeps her out,” explained Amanda. “What do you think, Naima?”

        “Ohh hell nah,  you’s creep’d buh-dat man too?” Naima gasped. “Dat man gives me duh creeps too!” she put her left hand on her chests, still holding onto the handle of the cart with the other. “One time, Ah wuz doin’ mah dooty, y’know, goin’ ‘round the buildin’, and when Ah passed buh-dat room, Ah heard him talk to himself, sayin’ stuff as if like he wuz bein’ bullied oh sumthin’. Den, Ah started hearing him say ‘no one’s gon’ hear you here. Well, he damn wrong ‘bout it.”

        “From what I know, he almost killed his mother—”

        “Oh, Lawwdee,” she fixed her afro-hair.

        “I don’t know. Out of all the patients I handle, he’s quite something. Like, when I go to his room, he’s always staring out the window,” said Kate. She stood up straight to face both Amanda and Naima.

        “He is something, Sweetie. He is a rapist who isn’t imprisoned because of his rich family,” Amanda pointed out.

        “Must be naas to be rich laak-his whi-folks. Ah wish Ah wuz rich so Ah ain’t gots to walk ‘round here, getting dem deh-tee dishes from dem not-so-crazy people. But dem whi-cops gon’ stop me in the freeway, thinkin’ mah naas car wuz all stolen.” Naima sighed, “Alright, y’all. I best get goin’ back to mah work.”

        “Alright,” said Amanda and Kate, almost in unison.

“Aren’t you going to be the one taking care of him tomorrow again?” Amanda asked.

        “Yeah…”

*****

here we go now you can do this kate you need the money to get through college and to go to med school just be quick feed him talk to him how he’s feeling give him the medicine he needs to take then leave this is all for your sake remember that

*****

I can’t wait to see her again. She’s going to feed me again. I am going to see her jiggling breasts again and her thighs wiggling again. I can’t wait to giggle again. Haah ah haha ha !!

        “Good morning, Brock.”

        It’s always good in the mornings as long as she’s here, as long as I can see her in the mornings, as long as she’s going to feed me. She’s smiling, but she said it in monotone. And she’s not looking at me. And she seems to be rushing me—well, our time together. And she’s not looking at me. So maybe she misses me a lot. And she’s rushing me. Well, I miss her too. And she’s not looking at me. And we’re together now, so she should be glad. I am so lucky to have her. She feeds me and she visits me all the time, and I haven’t even done anything to and for her. I wonder when she’s going to kiss me again.

        Now she’s feeding me cereal, and it’s still crunchy. And she knows that I like smushy cereal. Smooth in the mouth. Like, how…  …smooth her vagina is. I don’t remember if we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure we have. We’ve been together for a while now. I’m still gonna eat this cereal though. Doing so might make her happy. Now she’s smiling because I’m eating, but I want her to look at me. She’s rushing me more now. Rush. Giving me rushed spoonful of cereal one after the other. Then, she’s making me drink the milk from the bowl. I’m not a savage, I’m pretty civilized but I’ll drink it from the bowl. I’ll drink it like how I’d drink her breast milk.

        “Time for your meds, Brock.”

        I’m pretty sure she’s going to leave me again after making me take these useless drugs again. Does she not understand that I am not crazy? But I’ll still take them again because it makes her happy, and I wanna see her happy again.

        “I’ll be back in a few hours, Brock, for lunch,” smiling, she leaves.

***a story written in the rape victim’s perspective can be read HERE***
© 2017, Quiyet Brul

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