Taken: A Short Story
Page 3
This picture showed a young Trevor sitting on his bed, holding a teddy bear.
John glanced around the kitchen and saw pictures everywhere. They were taped to the cabinets and hanging on strings from the ceiling. His breathing increased. He felt fear, panic, and… desire.
He grabbed another photo. Trevor was shirtless and staring sadly at the camera. The pictures became worse until there was nothing more than a scared, naked child. John flew into a rage and began ripping down all of the pictures.
I have to burn them…
John scooped up a handful of pictures and ran into the living room. He skidded to a halt when he heard his own voice.
“You want to be a good boy, don’t you?”
“Please, Daddy, I don’t want to. It hurts.” The young Trevor sniffled.
The pictures fell to the floor around John, and he turned his attention to the tape playing. John bit his lip and allowed the tape to play a few minutes longer. His hand trembled and slid down to his pant zipper. He closed his eyes and slipped his hand inside his pants.
Daniel stepped into the room behind the old man.
John fell to his knees and continued to touch himself. He moaned and threw his head back. Daniel stood over him.
“Enjoying yourself?” Daniel snarled and swung a meat tenderizer at the old bastard.
John ducked and felt the tickle of air on his balding head. He ran from the room and spotted the urn. Grabbing it, he turned and faced Daniel. “One more step and you’ll never get your faggot back.” He opened the lid and tipped it sideways.
“Don’t!” Daniel skidded to a halt and dropped the tenderizer. His eyes stared at the obvious erection this father held for his son. “Trevor kept your secret. He never told me it was you.”
“It was him! He seduced me.” John breathed heavy. “He tried to tell the sheriff I raped him.” He laughed. “Can you believe that?”
Daniel eyed the urn.
“They told him to leave, they did. Said he was to blame and the town agreed.” John tossed the lid to the floor. “That faggot got what he deserved.” He tipped the urn upside down and the contents fell out.
Daniel watched the ashes fall. Time slowed, as if through an hourglass. He rushed the old man and tackled him to the floor. They struggled over possession of the empty urn. The two men rolled around on the floor. John released his hold on the urn and grabbed the wounded shoulder. Daniel screamed out in pain. The old man won the scuffle and emerged on top. Daniel hit him in the face with the urn. John tumbled off and landed on his back.
“You’re a scared, child-raping bastard and you’re going to die.” He stood over the old man and brought the urn down, ramming it into his face. He didn’t stop until he heard the crunch of bones.
Daniel threw the urn across the room and continued to hit him in his bloodied, sunken face with his bare fists. Tears streamed down his face. He screamed and jumped off the dead man.
“Why do I still feel this way?” Daniel pulled at his own hair. He threw himself to the floor and scooped up a pile of ashes. “I want him back. Why can’t I have him back?”
“I’m right here, silly.”
Daniel stopped and searched for the source of the voice. He watched Trevor walk down the hallway towards him. “Are you really here?”
“Most of me.” He pointed at his ashes. “You’re lying on the rest of me. Let’s get out of here. I’m sick of this house. It reeks of dead people.”
Daniel climbed to his feet and cast the ashes aside. He and Trevor left the house arm in arm.
The End
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