Chapter Five

Sam wasn’t sure why he was doing it but he started to pack.  It was a futile and pointless exercise for no other reason then he couldn’t get home for another two days anyway, but he needed something to do.  He knew he had ruined it, but at the same time he was happy that this massive weight had been removed from his shoulders.  ‘So what now clever twat?  Well that’s uni fucked and my friendships fucked, a life stuck with a woman I barely tolerate working in MacDonald’s for two quid an hour, I’ll probably have killed myself by the time I’m twenty five, and that’s something I shouldn’t even be joking about, oh and now I’m talking to myself.  Lonely and mental that’s what I’ll be, lonely and fucking mental’.

At that moment the bedroom door opened and Liam walked in.  Sam felt sick to the pit of his stomach but he couldn’t help but look at him.

‘I’m so sorry Liam, you kept pushing and I just couldn’t…’  ‘Sam its OK’, he sounded calm but this made Sam panic more, he was going to kill him wasn’t he, murder him in cold blood, Sam’s neurosis increased ten fold in stressful situations.

Liam walked towards Sam, he looked serene, collected.  ‘Look if your going to hit me just do it’ Sam said, Liam looked shocked.  ‘Hit you!  Why would I hit you?’  ‘I dunno, I just assumed…’  ‘That’s your biggest problem Sam, you assume too much’. 

‘Well when it’s what you have been used to…’  Sam didn’t bother to finish the sentence, he had never told anyone anything that happened to him at school and now really wasn’t the time or place. 

Silence took over the room, Sam struggled for anything to say, he didn’t think a discussion on the weather would be altogether appropriate.

‘I love you too Samuel’.  The words fell from his lips so calm and carefree yet they packed a punch like nothing he had ever felt at school.  ‘I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you.  Don’t get me wrong you are the most annoying person I have ever met and sometimes I want to kill you, but my god Sam I love you so much my heart aches every time I’m near you and…’  He stopped, choking on his own words, a single tear ran from his eye down over his stubbled cheek before dropping onto his shirt. 

Sam should have been happy, he was hearing the words he’d wanted to hear for so long but this was suddenly all too real and the realness of the situation made him feel sick.  He assumed Liam wouldn’t speak to him again, that he would just go back to hiding away which was what he was used to.  ‘Well, say something Sam for God’s sake’, he said hopefully, a nervous smile forming on his lips. 

‘Look, Liam, I know what I said but, well… this can’t happen, it just can’t’.  Liam looked hurt, ‘Sam, you can’t say you love me, let me say it back and then say it can’t happen…’  ‘How can anything happen Liam, your with Jo, I’m with Sally, were not… not that… were straight, for fuck sake Liam you said yesterday you were moving in with Jo’ he spat out suddenly feeling scared and angry.  ‘I know, I know but you’re not happy with Sally and Jo… well Jo is a good friend but I can’t see her as anything else.  It’s you I want Sam, you and no one else.  I know what I want now, I just didn’t have courage to say it before’. 

He walked towards him and Sam could feel his resolve breaking down.  He loved Liam so much, he always had but if this happened there was no going back, this would be it and he didn’t think he had the strength.  Liam sat next to him, his face was but three inches from his own, Sam could feel his sweet warm breath on his face, he looked into his big brown eyes and all of a sudden he could see his future, his future was with Liam and damn the consequences, so when Liam kissed him Sam didn’t protest.  The kiss was so tender and beautiful it was everything Sam had wanted it to be and much, much more, as Liam pulled away they stared at each other and Liam whispered, ‘I love you Samuel, I always have and I think I always will, you’re my best friend, my soul mate this… this is making me so happy.’

‘I love you too Liam’, and Sam kissed him, so longingly and so passionately he never wanted it to end.

Sam woke the next morning to a horrific noise that made him panic until he realised it was his alarm clock.  Thoughts of last night came flooding back, had it been a dream?  He looked around and Liam was no where to be seen, his bed was made and looked like no one had slept in it all night.  Sam struggled to shake the sleep that had taken over his body, what had happened last night?  Where was… And then the bedroom door opened and Liam walked in carrying a tray of tea and toast.  ‘I had to beg the woman downstairs for this, told her you were really ill and couldn’t come down, she finally gave in when she realised I wasn’t going to move’ he gave Sam that lop sided puppy dog smile he’d always loved and then kissed him on the head as he placed the breakfast on the bedside table, negotiating carefully around the heavily tasselled lamp.  ‘The flower… I stole from the garden’.  Sam smiled as he took in the rose that had been freshly plucked and placed so delicately on to the breakfast tray.  ‘Good morning handsome by the way’ Liam whispered, ‘good morning’ Sam replied, ‘and thank you’.

 

Sam had never felt so many emotions at one time, happy, ecstatic, scared, worried, guilty, and as they made there way down to meet the others the guilt and worry started to become the dominant emotion.  Every time someone looked at him hr thought they knew what had happened, and in all honesty not a lot did happen, they just held each other through the night happy in each others arms never wanting it to end, but Sam felt such guilt as if he had committed a serious crime, his mother would probably say he had.  Liam on the other hand had never looked so calm and collected, sitting there chatting to everyone like nothing had ever happened.

The day was filled with a day walking around Oxford taking at the sites and sounds and Sam was, in all honesty bored.  All he wanted to do was to speak to Liam, in the hope that it may help him figure things out in his head but he seemed much more interested in being a geek and taking pictures of old buildings, chatting normally to friends about some shit or other.

Liam had never felt happier.  Last night was everything he hoped it would be and much much more.  He had loved Sam from the first time they met, that day when he first walked into the classroom he noticed him straight away, sitting at the back of the class wearing an oversized shabby jumper, hair so lank and greasy it clung to his face, a geek of epic proportions with more issues than the Trisha Show, but there was something about him.  Once you managed to get passed the hard exterior, once the wall was taken down, Sam was one of the most honest and pure people Liam had ever met.  Of course the thought of loving a man scared him to death.  He had known from a young age that he liked boys and not girls, he had just never admitted to anyone before, it was the main reason he worked so much in the restaurant, he didn’t have to mix with people then.  He never got bullied at school, he was able to blend in, he played football and liked it, he was obsessed with cars and for these two simple reasons he was popular with boys and girls alike.  He was never short of female attention, due to his Italian heritage and Irish charm he had girlfriend after girlfriend during senior school and although he always knew it wasn’t quite right he never really questioned it, he was happy enough with the life he had.

He met Joanne during his last year of sixth form, she walked into the restaurant one night with her family and left her number on her receipt as she left.  Two years on and somehow it had gotten very serious, for her anyway.  She was already talking marriage and babies.  He had told Sam he was going to ask her to move in with him, but he wasn’t, he was doing it to gage his reaction and it was as none descript as usual.  When Sam told him he loved him he couldn’t have asked for more.  He walked out because he was in shock, Sam had never hinted at how his feelings for him lay, he had his suspicions but to be honest he didn’t like to over fantasise about what would never be.  The closest he ever came to admitting his feeling was last Christmas when he dropped him home after the party, he had managed to put a hand on Sam’s leg but then couldn’t go any further for worry that it wasn’t reciprocated, Sam never seemed to notice that night, as usual he was in his own world, a world he had never let Liam into despite constantly trying.  He knew something bad had happened to Sam, he knew he hadn’t had an easy life but he knew no details, he could only assume it was bad if Sam couldn’t talk about it.  Maybe one day he would.

Liam knew what he wanted out of life now, he knew the path he was to go down.  He was comfortable with the person he was and he didn’t care what people thought, he was ready to come out to the world and with Sam by his side he would be the happiest man alive.

‘Penny for ‘em’, Liam said as he crashed into Sam.  ‘Eh… what?  Oh… I was in a world of my own then’ Sam responded smiling at the sight of this handsome man.  ‘So, I was thinking…’ ‘careful Liam, you’ll hurt yourself’, Liam punched Sam’s arm playfully, ‘So, I was thinking’ he said again, but more pronounced, ‘lets go out for a drink tonight, just us, we need to talk anyway, what you reckon?’.  Sam smiled, it sounded like a brilliant idea and just what he had wanted to hear all morning.  ‘What about the others though?’ Sam asked.  ‘Leave that to me’ he whispered giving Sam a cheeky wink and a smile.  Sam suddenly felt so excited he thought he may burst there and then.

Chapter Four

‘Why do you have to go?’, ‘It’s a university trip’.  ‘Why can’t I come?’, ‘you’re not at university’.  This is how the argument with Sally had gone every night for four months and Sam was getting  pretty sick of it.  

He looked at her sometimes and a hate so pure enveloped him and all he wanted to do was punch her in the face.  He never would do this, firstly he would never hit a girl, secondly she was three times the size of him and would kill him with one blow.  

She insisted on seeing him off so when the time finally arrived for  the intrepid explorers to leave for Oxford there they stood next to the coach, Sally clinging to Sam’s neck like a demented monkey screaming and wailing, ‘I’m only going for three day Sal, please calm down and…’ ‘I… cant…. help it… Sam I love you’ a snot bubble exploded from her left nostril and it dawned on Sam that snot shouldn’t be him main focus at the minute.  He gave her a hug and prised himself away from her, climbing onto the bus and taking his seat next to Liam before she could get on the damn thing with him.

‘You’re quiet again’ Liam said, bringing Sam out of his daydream, ‘Am I?  Sorry I was miles away’.  ‘What were you thinking?’ he asked.  You don’t wanna know, was what Sam thought, ‘oh nothing much’ was what he replied.  ‘Your such hard work Sam when your like this, you really are’, Liam wasn’t angry, it was more an observation.  Sam knew he was being a terrible friend but as much as he wanted to be around Liam the actual act broke his heart every time he stared into those big brown eyes.  All he could do was smile, ‘So Liam’ Sam said composing himself, ‘what’s new with you?’  ‘Well actually I’m glad you asked’ he responded more animated, ‘I’ve decided I’m gonna move out of home and rent myself a little flat, and I’m going to ask Jo to move in with me’.  Liam looked at Sam expectantly, waiting for his best mate to tell him that it was wonderful news, that he was happy and excited for him, that he wished him all the luck and happiness in the world.  Sam wanted to say these things but they would not form on his lips; the words chocked him until he thought he couldn’t breathe any longer.  In the end he managed to smile, ‘that’s… that’s fantastic news mate, I’m really pleased for you’, and with that Sam put his headphones in his ears and turned to look out the window, the tears stinging in his eyes the sound of Sarah McLachlan crying in his ears.  It was some where between Banbury and Bicester that Sam realised he couldn’t be friends with Liam anymore.

Liam sat and stared at the back of his best friends head.  What was wrong with this man that he can’t even be happy for me when I share the biggest news ever with him?  Why was he acting like this?  How many chances do I have to give him?  It was somewhere between Bicester and Binsey that Liam realised this couldn’t go on much longer and something had to give.

By the time they arrived in Oxford James was running around over excited like a child who had eaten ten packets of Smarties, Sara was desperate for the loo and Jane was desperate for food, three hours without having a pie in her mouth was something of a miracle.  Sam felt dreadful but had decided Oxford was not the best place to break up with his best friend so he decided to suck it up and get on with the weekend.

The house they were staying in looked like something from a horror movie.  A three story decrepit Victorian detached set in grounds so overgrown Sam wondered if he’d find Narnia the other side of the brambles.  ‘Apparently it’s haunted’, Jane said sneaking up behind Liam.  ‘Stop it Jane’ Sam smirked, ‘you know Liam’s scared of ghosts’.  ‘No I am not’ he snapped, ‘things like that don’t bother me’.  ‘OK’ Jane replied, ‘just hope you don’t get room fourteen then’.  ‘Why?’ Liam asked suddenly more interested a slight tremor in his voice.  Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Liam screaming all the way through A Nightmare On Elm Street that they had all tricked him into watching one Saturday night.  ‘Oh, nothing’ she replied, ‘just something about someone being killed in there and the spirit still haunts the bedroom as she seeks her husband to exact revenge, well something like that anyway’, she smiled.  Liam looked panic stricken but this changed to a look of pure horror when they handed us the keys to room fourteen.  ‘Come on you big girl, I’ll look after you’ said Sam as he grabbed his bag and they made there way up the rickety flight of stairs.

There bedroom was like something out of a 1970’s porno film, two single beds were separated by a table, a light perched on top with more tassels then a go-go dancer on acid.  The smell was something that hadn’t greeted Sam’s nostrils before but it certainly smelt like someone had died in there.  Liam opened the window to let some fresh air in, ‘well this is… erm, well pleasant?’ he said.  Sam couldn’t help but laugh, in fact he laughed so hard he had to sit down.  Liam joined him and pretty soon nether of them could breathe.   BY the time the laughter had died Sam felt better and Liam couldn’t help but think how good it was to see his friend happy again.

‘So.  What now?’ Sam wondered out loud.  ‘well we have to meet in the lobby in about ten minutes so I’m going to get changed out these sweaty clothes and I don’t know about you but I’m gagging for a drink’.  Sam assumed Liam would go into the bathroom to change but instead he just took his clothes off there and then.  He pulled his tight white T shirt over his broad shoulders and there it was, something Sam had wanted to see for twelve months, Liam with his top off.  He wasn’t disappointed.  He tried to not look but he couldn’t help take in his tight abs and ample Pecs, dark hair covered them and Sam realised suddenly that it was something he liked.  He undid the top button of his blue jeans and with every pop of a button Sam’s heart raced even faster till he thought he was going to go into arrest.  ‘What’s up’ Liam asked suddenly, Sam became more aware that he was drooling.  ‘Nothing.’ He responded a little too quickly, ‘I mean, nothing’ he continued trying to compose himself, ‘I… I need to loo’.  Sam rushed into the bathroom and had a wank so vigorous he thought his cock was going to come away in his hands, he had never felt so aroused in all his life.

He couldn’t get the image of Liam standing there in just a tight pair of white Calvin Klein’s for the rest of the day.  They were supposed to be ‘enjoying’ a lecture on the colleges of Oxford and Cambridge but all Sam wanted to do was go back to the room and have a cold shower, this was not good for his health. 

‘So Sam, please tell the rest of the group when Exeter College was erected.  Sam?’  Dr Fellows bellowed across the room.  Sam snapped out of his daydream suddenly aware a room full of people were staring at him.  Sam hadn’t even heard the question but he could see Liam mouthing an answer to him from the other side of the room but he couldn’t make out if he was saying 1314 or 1514 so he opted for 1514, nothing could be that old surely?  Liam’s look told him he was wrong, ‘No Mr Dent you are two hundred years out, but had you been listening you would have known the answer as I told your colleagues this just two minutes ago’.  He gave Sam that sanctimonious look he was so good at giving.  God he hated that man.

‘So the plan is we get the train into Oxford, get hammered, get some pussy and bag the last train back well before Dr Doom even knows we left’.  ‘James’ said Liam, ‘why the fuck are you talking like that?  You have never said the word pussy in your life let alone bagged any’.  ‘I’m just trying something out’ James replied, not a bit put down by Liam’s comment.  ‘well don’t’ Liam replied, ‘it’s disgusting talking like that in front of a lady, Sam doesn’t like it’, a grin spread across his face and Sam smacked him in the arm, ‘I fucking hate you Liam Cachetta’.  ‘Erm… no you don’t’.  ‘No.  I do.  Now can we please get out of here I need a drink’.

Seven pints, ten shots and a kebab later and the boys finally made it back to the hotel, not a bit of pussy had been had by James, he was more worried about getting the sick out of his jumper then what he might have missed out on and by the time his head hit the pillow he was fast asleep.

Sam sat in the bedroom looking at Liam as he brushed his teeth and got ready for bed.  He had never felt so ill in his life, he always drank too much, he didn’t know when to stop.  Liam on the other hand was as fresh as a daisy.  ‘Why are you not really really drunk Liam’ Sam slurred, Liam laughed before responding, ‘because I’m not a big puff Sam’, ‘yeah, and that’s half the problem’ Sam whispered, ‘what?’ Liam asked.  Sam remained quiet.

‘So, you have a good night?’ Liam asked, ‘yeah… yeah it was good’ Sam managed to say extending each word into a drunken slur.  Liam laughed, ‘I’m glad to see you smiling again’. 

Sam suddenly had an overwhelming desire to cry, and so he did.  For the first time in his life he cried in front of someone and once he started he couldn’t stop.

‘Sam, what’s up, why are you crying?’

Sam ignored him, unable to speak even if he wanted to.  Liam came over and sat next to him.  ‘Come on tell me mate, I’m here for you, whatever it is, whatever you need’.

‘I can’t tell you’ Sam managed in-between sobs, ‘what did you say Sam, I can’t hear you if you keep your face in your hands’.

Sam looked at Liam through his red tear stained eyes, ‘I said, I can’t tell you Liam, please don’t push it’.

‘Well what do you want me to do leave you crying?’

‘Yes, please do’.

‘NO!’ Liam shouted making himself and Sam jump in shock, ‘NO, I won’t , not any more, you have been like this since Christmas and I’ve let it slide but to be honest your really fucking pissing me off, now for god sake spit it out Sam, I can’t take it much more’.

Sam had never heard Liam speak like this, he never really swore and he never got angry, especially with Sam.

‘Liam… you’re my best friend, but I can’t tell you this, I can’t…’

‘WHY’ he screamed again, ‘what can be so bad you can’t tell me Samuel’.

Sam started to cry again, ‘if I tell you it will ruin so much, it will ruin us, ruin our friendship and I cant…’

‘Sam I’m warning you now, the way you have been acting is ruining our friendship, my patience is running thin and I can’t take much more of this shit you keep giving me, so I’ll ask you one more time, tell me what the fuck is going on’.

Sam looked at Liam, stared into those big brown eyes he had admired for so many months.  He could see anger there now, he was pissed off and at the end of his tether.  Sam had nothing left to lose, he was losing Liam anyway, this way he’d make the break.  He would give up uni, leave his friends behind, forget Liam forget everything they had shared and experienced the last twelve months.  He would tell him the truth now and then go back to Sally and live a lie for the rest of his life, he would tell him the truth now because he was drunk and it gave him the confidence, he would tell him the truth now because he had nothing left to lose.

‘Liam… I love you.’  Sam suddenly felt composed and at ease, this needed to be said. 

‘And I don’t mean as a friend.  I mean I am absolutely, categorically head over heels stupidly in love you and I have been since the moment I met you.  And I’m scared because I don’t know what to do anymore Liam.  I don’t know what to do’.

Liam looked at him for what seemed like an age, no expression on his face. 

He looked him deep in the eyes; his bottom lip quivered before he stood up and left the room.  Sam burst into tears as the door slammed shut. 

Liam was gone.

Chapter Three

Sara’s Christmas parties were legendary.  Apparently.  So they had all heard.  No one was surprised to find the invitation crash on their mat sometime at the end of November inviting them to the Mr/s Smithe-Fortesques annual ‘Christmas Bash at the Mansion’.

Sam had heard so much about the ‘mansion’ that he couldn’t wait to see it, but he also knew that Liam was going with his new girlfriend.  He hadn’t spoken to Liam for over three weeks, he had ignored his texts, his calls and in the end he had turned his phone off.  As time went on the texts stopped.  Sam felt awful, he missed his friend but he knew he had to do this, he couldn’t be around him.

He decided in the end that he would go to the party, but he wasn’t taking Sally, he couldn’t bear to look at her most of the time anymore so he told her she wasn’t invited, instead he arranged with James that they would go together.

As they approached the mansion it was obvious that it was everything, and more that Sara had said.  Wrought iron gates opened onto a large gravel drive with a fountain in the middle, manicured bushes around the edge of the drive that spanned the front of the enormous double fronted, perfectly symmetrical Buckingham Palace-wannabe house.  New money his mom would have called it.

‘Fuck me’ James exclaimed, ‘I knew she was a bit posh but… fuck me!’. 

The opulence of the exterior was nothing compared to what greeted him on the inside, he had never needed to use the word lavish before, but even that didn’t cover it.  A large marble floor led to the grand staircase, chandeliers filled the ceiling casting a glorious light on the walls filled with picture after picture of what he assumed were family.

‘Oh you made it’ screamed Sara as she burst through, what she later described as the drawing room doors.  ‘It’s so lovely to see you Sam’ and she threw her arms around his neck then she hugged James but not with quite so much vigour. 

‘This is wonderful place you have Sara’ James spat, his braces still caused saliva to be dispensed over anyone in a three mile radius.  ‘Yeah… thanks’ she replied as she wiped the spit from her left cheek, ‘So Sam, tell me all about your holidays so far… oh and you must meet mommy and daddy in a mo, I’ve told them all about you and…’

Sam managed to switch off as he surveyed the room taking in all the people dressed is fancy suits and expensive ball gowns, he couldn’t help but feel dressed down in his blue jeans, blue jumper and tatty blue trainers.  His long greasy curtains hung like two dead rats over his greasy forehead.  How the other half live, he thought to himself.

‘Oh look’ exclaimed James, clearly faking a posh accent and shaking Sam from his reverie, ‘here’s Liam and Jo’.  Sam suddenly became incredibly sweaty, a panic enveloped him and he felt nauseous.  He didn’t know where to look, he began to fidget and he looked inappropriate.  He wished he hadn’t come and instead of doing the right thing and speaking to them he ran off heading for the stairs almost knocking two old ladies over in the process.

An hour later when no on had come to see where he was he decided to risk a look around.  He left the bathroom, which was the size of his mom and dad’s bedroom, and looked over the balcony at the hordes of people enjoying their Christmas party.  He spotted Liam and Jo in the corner of the room, alone.  They looked so happy, so natural together.  He was whispering something and she was laughing.  It was clear they were in love and very happy.  A jealously surged through his body like something he had never experienced before and he hated himself for feeling like that, but he couldn’t help it.  Tears welled in his eyes, stinging him so that he had to squeeze them together.  He had never felt so alone, so confused and so anxious about the future.  He didn’t want to have these feelings for Liam, they scared him to death.  Being gay was not him, this was not right.  He was with Sally and that was that.  He needed to get out of there.

‘Oh Sam there you are’ Sara screamed as she turned the corner, I’ve been looking all over for you, where have you been?’  ‘I, erm, I don’t feel very well, been a bit sick’ he lied.  ‘Oh you poor poor thing’ she exclaimed a little to over the top.  He could tell she was drunk, her words slurred, her lipstick was smeared across her face and she could hardly walk in a straight line.  She looked a mess and it was nine thirty.  ‘Come with me Sam’ she said as she clung onto him arm, ‘I want to show you something’. 

He followed her along the landing into what he assumed was her bedroom.  It was twice the size of his at home, the carpet on the floor was so thick he felt like he was walking on a cloud, it had three windows, two overlooking the acres of back garden the third over looked the fields to the side of the house that her family also owned.  Again he was shocked at why she was attending such a normal, working class university.  ‘My mommy and daddy didn’t want me to go to a uni in Birmingham’ she stated as if she had read his mind, ‘they think it’s full of ruffians.  They are probably right’ she added almost as an afterthought.  She sat on her queen size bed, it looked so comfortable he almost wanted to get into it and sleep away his pain.  ‘But I didn’t want to go to a posh university Sam, I had done that with primary and secondary school, I wanted to be with normal people, like you and James and Liam’.  He didn’t reply, he couldn’t be bothered so he let her ramble on.  A while later she stood up, looking serious for the first time since they had entered the room.  ‘Sam I need to tell you something…’  He waited, she just stared at him expectantly.  ‘spit it out then’ he said, wanting to get this over with.  ‘It’s something no one else knows Sam, and I’m embarrassed so I’ll just come right out with it…’  Please do, he silently prayed.  ‘I’m a virgin Sam, and I don’t want to be.  I’ve had offers but I’ve never took anyone up on it.  I want to sleep with someone like you Sam, someone normal, not a posh person, not the son of a lord or the grandson of a bloody MP, someone working class, I want you to fuck me Sam.  Please.  Just fuck me.’  ‘Well’ he slurred, ‘for a posh bird you have the mouth of sailor’.  He heard the lyrics to Pulps ‘Common People’ crash though his mind.  He didn’t know what to say.  He wasn’t good at this sort of thing.  Before he could move she had ripped her dress off, her large breast fell out of her loose fitting bra and she walked towards him.  Panicked, he backed away but it was too late, she had him pinned against the wall.  Her face was less than an inch away from his face, ‘you want to Sam, say you want to?  I know you have a girlfriend but all I want is for you to take my flower’. 

Who talks like that?  He thought as she groped him through his trousers.  He surprisingly grew hard to her touch which only confused him more.  A thousand thoughts flashed through his head.  He could have sex with her here and now, that would make him straight wouldn’t it?  That would confirm it if he’d had sex with more than one woman he wouldn’t, couldn’t be gay.  She pulled him over to the bed and pushed him back onto the most comfortable bed he had ever lay on.  She clambered on top of him kissing him, kissing his neck.  ‘I want this so bad Sam, so bad’.  She fumbled with his jumper ripping it over his head  She ran her clammy hands over his hairy chest, she kissed his stomach as she went down to his jeans.  He lay there, hardly believing this was going to happen.  The buttons on his jeans popped and she grabbed his cock.  She started to toss him off, it hurt; she had definitely not done this before.  ‘Ouch’ he cried pulling her back up away from his delicate member, ‘it’s a cock; you’re not pulling carrots’.   

‘Sorry’ she whispered, ‘not had much practise’.  She started to kiss his neck again but his erection was lost and he knew this couldn’t happen but before he could say anything she stopped and he heard snoring.  He had never felt so relieved.

He walked out of her bedroom a few minutes later looking even more dishevelled and decided to get the hell out of that house before he got thrown out for looking like a vagrant. 

He reached the bottom of the stairs and literally bumped into Liam.  He got that feeling again, the pang of love he got every time their eyes met.  He smiled and Liam smiled back.  Sam had so much to say but of course none of it could leave his over saturated head so he just asked, ‘where’s Jo?’  ‘She’s left’ he replied, Sam grew suddenly excited at the news, ‘dodgy prawn I think, been really sick so I called her a taxi’.  Sam didn’t ask why he hadn’t gone with her because in all honesty he didn’t really care.  Liam looked so handsome; he had let his stubble grow over his perfectly chiselled jaw, he was wearing a tight fitting black suit with a white shirt, the top button casually undone, a tuft of dark chest hair had escaped from the top.  Sam felt himself grow hard just looking at this man.  He wanted him so bad it hurt.  He blocked it from his mind and engaged in some useless chit chat until James came over and ruined the moment.

They spent a few hours catching up before Liam announced he was leaving.  Sam felt a sadness he never knew existed but the offer of a lift home from Liam perked him up.

They drove much of the way in silence.  Liam seemed to concentrate on driving, Sam sat looking  out his passenger window watching the lights of the towns fly by.  New Order’s True Faith came from the radio, low but loud enough for Sam to hear every word.  He loved that song.  They pulled up at some lights and he watched people go about their business.  People walking hand in hand, a man closing his shop for the night, police walking around keeping the peace. 

He wanted a normal life, to feel normal.  To be happy.

‘So why have you never text me back’ Liam suddenly asked bringing Sam from his reverie.  He didn’t sound pissed off, it was just a general comment.  ‘No credit’ he lied, ‘sorry’ he added.  ‘It’s ok’ he replied in that soft Irish tone he had, ‘but that wouldn’t have stopped you answering the phone’.  Sam was glad it was dark or Liam would have seen him blush, his face so hot he could have powered a small town for an hour.  They sat the rest of the way in silence.  Eventually Liam pulled up outside Sam’s parent’s house.  Sam sat there making no attempt to leave and Liam made no attempt to make him.  After an age Liam finally broke the silence.  ‘Sam, its obvious there’s something on your mind.  You’re really distant lately, well you have always been kind of distant, a closed book my mom calls you, but you seem miles away tonight and you’re sat right next to me’.  Sam could feel the tears well in his eyes again, he daren’t turn around.  ‘I’m not asking you to tell me, all I’m saying is, well… I’m here for you if you need me.  You’re my best mate’.  Sam bit down on his lip begging himself not to cry, he could feel his body shake in silence as he frantically tried to compose himself.  He needed to get out the car, if Liam pushed this he would break him and he would end up saying something that would not only ruin this friendship but the rest of his life as well.  Liam placed his hand on Sam’s leg.  He flinched at the touch, no man had touched him like that since that afternoon at school.  He pulled himself together, the thought of that day ruining the moment.  ‘I’m OK Liam, I promise, I’ll try to be a better friend.  I promise.’  He opened the door and got out, turning to face his best friend, ‘Merry Christmas Liam’ she whispered, ‘Merry Christmas Sam’ Liam replied with a smile, ‘and love to Sally from me’.  With that Sam shut the door and walked towards the house.  All the lights were off and he was happy, he needed to be alone, not have his mom firing two hundred gin fuelled questions at him.  He turned and waved watching Liam drive away into the cold, dark December night. 

The tears finally escaped from his eyes, unable to hold them in any longer.  He walked into the dark hallway and broke down on the bottom of the stairs.  He sobbed harder than he had in a long time, so hard his stomach began to hurt.  He pushed his hair back across his head and held himself there for what seemed like ages until he could cry no more.

He didn’t want this.  He didn’t want to feel this way but however he looked at it one thing remained.  He was deeply, hopelessly head over heels in love with his best friend.

Liam drove away from Sam’s feeling sad for his friend.  Ever since he met Sam he had a feeling that he must have had a hard time growing up.  He never spoke about his childhood or school and when it was brought up he would do anything to change the subject.  He always had that defeated look in his eyes, like it was hard work just being alive.  Liam never pushed him to talk about things, he was odd and that’s all there was to it, but that was Sam and he wouldn’t have changed him because when he wasn’t being guarded and he managed to relax, even if it was just for a few hours, he was the nicest and kindest person he had ever met.  He had a fantastic dry sense of humour that never failed to make Liam laugh even when it wasn’t supposed to be funny.

Liam had never had many friends at school, he worked hard and kept himself to himself and then he worked weekends and school holidays in the restaurant with him mom and sisters.  It was nice to have such a good mate in the form of Sam.  They had so much in common and Liam just enjoyed being with him.  It hurt him to see such a good friend in pain but he didn’t want to push him or force the issue, he would just make it clear that he was there for him if he needed someone to speak to and leave it at that.

Christmas came and went without much drama.  Sam’s Nan Betty had Christmas with them as usual and as usual she was nothing but inappropriate and rude throughout.  She suffered from dementia, but Sam’s dad said that didn’t excuse the things she said.  She called his dad John, his mom’s ex boyfriend from the nineteen o ockers, which she had always done, she told his sister she was fat when she was seven stone wet and told Sam he was wasting his time at university and to get a proper job.  It was all nothing new so they just let her get on with it, topped her up with sherry until she fell asleep in front of the fire.  That was Christmas day at the Dent’s in a nutshell. 

Term time finally came back around and things carried on as normal.  Sam felt a little bit better, he was getting on with Sally again which had more to do with the fact they hardly saw each other than anything else.  He threw himself back into his studies and started to work hard at getting his grades back to what they were supposed to be.

‘Right class, listen up’ bellowed their lecturer Dr Fellows.  He was an odd looking man, short, thin, balding and it was a debate as to whether he was actually a doctor, no one knew what his doctorate was in and he would never elaborate.  He had a nauseating voice akin to the scrapping of nails across a chalk board and no one looked forward to his lectures as they seemed to be more about him and his family life then anything to do with English literature. 

‘I wanted to let you all know we have organised a trip for you all to Oxford for a long weekend in May.  We will be staying in one of Oxford universities colleges and will give you the opportunity to take in some lectures on Shakespeare and then have a civilised few days soaking up the culture Oxford offers.  Please let me know who wants to attend, I need a fifty pound deposit and you need someone to share a room with’.   The room burst into chatter drowning out anything else Dr Fellows had to say as he rambled on about himself oblivious to the fact he had lost his audience.

‘So Sam’ Liam shouted over the noise, ‘shall we bunk up together?’  A huge smile took over Sam’s face, he couldn’t wait for May.

Chapter Two

Two Years Later

As Sam left that bus outside University for the first time he felt physically sick to his stomach.  There were people all around him.  Students pushing and shoving each one with the same intention, to get into class for the very first time and make some friends.  Everyone seemed so excited and Sam felt left out because he didn’t feel the same way. 

He hadn’t wanted to go to university.  He was fed up of being taught; he hated school and anything like it.  He had left his secondary school after his attempt to kill himself.  His mom and dad pulled him out and sent him to a private school, they couldn’t afford it and he didn’t want to go but they insisted and he met their demands.  It was the least he could do, or so he told himself.  It was a good school, the bullying was minimal and he managed good GSCE’s and surprisingly good A Levels.  He had never told anyone about the incident with Kirk, when the paramedics managed to save his life he told everyone the bullying was getting to him but he refused to elaborate.  He couldn’t.

When he got his A Level results his mom put more and more pressure on him to continue his education, she wanted the best for him and he knew that.  Sally also wanted him to go to university.  She had ideas of him becoming some super rich hot shot business man that would buy her a large house and allow her the six kids she wanted. 

So Sam went along with it and here he was on a cold, wet and windy October morning, surrounded by over excited, spotty, smelly students.  He had no idea what was in store for him but he couldn’t have been more scared.

As he walked up to Block E, the huge gray building seemed to envelope him and heighten his anxiety.  It was not a nice university, huge, dark, black and ancient.  He felt sick as he walked through the double doors, the smell of classrooms and school smacked him the face, almost winding him.  His stomach did summersaults.  His breathing grew fast and rasping.  His head began to pound and he knew an anxiety attack was coming.  He was about to turn around and leave the building, go home and pretend he had never agreed to this.  Then he heard a voice say, ‘are you looking for the English degree room mate?’  Sam stopped and looked up, his eyes meeting those of a gangly chap around his age with thick specs perched on his bird like nose.  Is he talking to me?  Sam thought to himself.  There was no one else around.  He was definitely talking to Sam.  ‘Erm… yeah.  Yes I am’.  A broad smile appeared on the gangly kids face as he held out his hand, ‘I’m James, pleased to meet you’.  It took some time but eventually Sam reached out and took his hand.  James shook it warmly and with vigour, and then in dawned on Sam that his anxiety had passed.

University was where it all changed.  Sam grew close to James quickly, and they met some other friends during Fresher’s Week.  There was Jane, a plump but jolly girl with long unkempt hair that looked like something the Jackson 5 had grown and given away in a competition and then there was Sara who was tall and beautiful and intelligent and Sam had no idea why she hung around with what, at best would be described as the Adams Family on steroids.  They were an odd group, but then that’s what university is all about.  For the first time in as long as he could remember Sam had a group of friends that actually liked him and wanted to spend time with him.  He had never felt so good.

Things were going well.  He felt happy.  He loved life again and was glad to have been given a second chance.

Then in the third month of term they were all sat at the back of the class waiting for the lecture to begin, laughing and joking about something geeky like Star Wars or Star Trek when the lecture room door opened and in walked the new boy.

As he entered to room the air seemed to leave.  He was tall, around six foot, he was dark skinned and he was broad, the tight white shirt bulging around his Pecs and thick arms.  A pair of sun glasses sat on his perfectly manicured head.  Sam couldn’t help but stare and as their eyes met his heart simply stopped beating.  The new boy smiled a cheeky grin and Sam blushed and looked away.  ‘Don’t sit by me, please do not sit by me’ was all that went through his mind, over and over and over again.  He held his eyes tightly shut praying for a miracle as he felt him brush past his chair and sit next to him.  Sam opened his eyes and risked a look.  He smiled and introduced himself as Liam in the thickest Irish accent Sam had ever heard.  It was game over.

Sam found Liam captivating.  Not only was he gorgeous.  Not only was he Irish.  But he was a really nice person and Sam just wanted to spend more and more time with him.  At first the group would go to the cinema together, or spend a night out clubbing, always the five of them, no more and no less.  Sam would get home and all he could think about was Liam, what he was doing, who he with, how he was feeling, what CD he was listening to.  He had no time for Sally, she would sit in his bedroom and he would just watch her lips move but non of the boring drivel she was speaking was heard, he just learnt to nod at the right time and throw a few ooh’s and ahh’s in to keep her placated.

‘Sam!  Are you even listening to me?  Sam’.

He hated himself for how he felt and how he was acting.  The old ugly head was rearing itself again and Sam needed to not feel like this.  He had suppressed it for so long and he didn’t want to let it come out again and destroy his life.  So he did what he always did and buried his head in the sand.

A week later he got a text from Liam saying;

Come over I need to tell you something, it’s important :)

He decided to ignore him, it was coming up to the Christmas holidays and he would have four weeks off from uni.  He needed to keep away from Liam and this was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Liam sat at home alone.  He had just got in from the perfect date with a girl called Jo, she had kissed him and asked to see him again and he couldn’t have been happier.  All he wanted to do was tell his best mate Sam all about it.  He sent the text and lay back awaiting the reply.

Liam had had a good life.  His mom was an Irish Catholic, his father an Italian immigrant who had moved to Ireland looking for a better life.  Cosmo Cachetta had wooed Mary O’Keefe with one wink of his big brown eyes and they had married just three months later.  They had three children, Julie, Liam and Shane and they moved to England when Liam was seven to start there own business, a small but charming Irish/Italian restaurant in Birmingham.  It hadn’t been easy at first but they worked hard and eventually the business became a success and Cachetta’s became the place to eat.  Liam had worked weekends and holidays in the restaurant since he was about thirteen and loved it.  He was such a sociable person and he loved meeting new people, ‘he can talk the hind legs off a donkey’ his mother would tell people, always with a smile.

Half an hour passed and he still had no reply from Sam.  Eventually he fell asleep and woke the next day, still no text.  He sent a further three over the next week, each went without response, his voicemails never retuned.

Chapter One

Samuel Jacob Bartholomew Dent was born on May 15^th 1981 to parents Jacob and Sylvia, who, Samuel thought clearly had a strange sense of humour; (he was never to find out that they were actually stoned when they chose his name).  His mother often joked that he should have been grateful she couldn’t remember her first choice of Lesley at the time of his naming, something Sam failed to ever find amusing. 

Three years later his sister Joanne Elkie-Brookes was born, the recreational drugs clearly still in full swing as was a love affair, albeit a brief one, with the singer of the same name.

Sam had always been a different child, as his mother called him.  He never had many male friends, he was always with the girls.  He hated football and preferred to spend time making daisy chains at lunch break, or platting Joanne’s Girls World’s hair at weekends.  He got away with this at primary school, it was never an issue but once he went to ‘big school’ it was a different kettle of fish altogether.

The first punch came out of nowhere.  Sam had been sitting with some girl friends eating his Billy Bear sandwich minding his own business.  It was a lovely sunny day and he was happy to be out of lessons, away from the constant name calling, (“oh here he is ‘Bent Dent’”, “Bent Dent, what a fucking poof”; children were so imaginative).  He wasn’t expecting the pain that exploded across his left cheek.  He fell to the ground before he realised what was happening.  Kirk, the school bully had punched him.  He tried to get back up but a kick to the stomach flattened him again.  The kicks continued to the point where Sam couldn’t feel anything anymore.  He lay there helpless to get up, silently praying that someone would help him, someone would rescue him from this.  But no one did.  No one ever did.

When he got home that night, he tried to hide his bruises from his mom but there was no point.  He could hardly walk, his face was bloody and black and his lip was split and the size of a blown up lilo.  “what the bloody hell happened to you” Sylvia exclaimed as she jumped up from her chair, a fag hanging precariously from the side of her mouth, Women’s Weekly in her left hand, an ashtray in her right, Blockbusters blaring from the tele in the corner.  She was wearing a shell suit, they were all the rage at the time, she looked like a lesbian harlequin.  As she jumped up some hot ash fell from her fag onto her shell suit bottoms.  It was lucky she realised else she’s have gone up like a fire in a polyester knickers factory.  She dusted herself off and came running over.  “Don’t fuss mom, its nothing, I fell over”.  “fell over?” she screamed, “don’t talk such shit Samuel Jacob Bartholomew ” (she only used his full name when she was mad with him) “you tell me who did this or else I’ll black your other eye” (mothers logic hey?).

He eventually told her before being allowed to his room to sulk and wallow in his own self pity, he could hear her from downstairs talking to no one “that’s it, I’m going up that fucking school tomorrow and I’ll rip that little shits head off his shoulders and shit in his neck, no one picks on my kids, no one”.  He could hear the sound of her flip flops smacking off the lino floor in the kitchen, Sam and Jo knew when she was angry because the noise grew louder and faster  the more vexed she became, when they were kids it was the sure fire way of telling they were in for a smack.  “who does he think he is, little bastard picking on my little boy, that school needs telling as well, bloody shit hole…”.  He knew she meant well and even loved her for it but her going up the school would only make it worse, not better.  He just hoped his dad would calm her down when he got in from work.

Sylvia did go up the school the next day but she didn’t pulverise Kirk, she listened to Jacob and went to see the head of year instead.  It made no difference.  Mrs Haines said all the right things, said Kirk would be punished, Samuel would be in no more danger, it would never happen again.  It did happen again, and more frequently.  Sam just got better at hiding it.

Sam lay on his bed one night listening to Take That’s latest album on his headphones, Robbie Williams was telling him that ‘Everything Changes’, “fat fucking chance” he whispered to himself.  He looked up at the new life size (if you’re a midget) poster of Mark Owen he had blue tacked to his wall, fresh from that weeks Smash Hits.  He smiled as he heard a knock on the door just as his dad burst in (why knock?).  He seemed calm and collected until he saw the poster.  Sam could see the anger flare up in his eyes.  His father rarely got angry, but when he did he went up like a bottle of pop.  “what the hell is THAT doing on your wall young man?” he seethed, “its no wonder the kids at school call you a poofter if you go about having half naked pictures of men on your walls”, “it’s Mark Owen dad” he retorted taking the ear phones from his ears, “from Take That”.  He tried to smile but his father was clearly having none of it “I don’t care if it’s the queen of fucking Sheba from bastard Shawady Wady”, even his dad looked confused at this statement, “take it down NOW” he said regaining his composure.  Then without giving him chance to he lunged for the poster and ripped it from the wall, tearing Mark’s head clean off.  “I’m having no queers in this house my lad, no way, your granddad would have a cow turn”.  And with that he stormed out.  Samuel wanted to cry but he didn’t have the strength in him so he just put his earphones back in just as Gary sang ‘All I do each night is pray’.  And that’s exactly what Samuel did most nights.

Looking back Sam was always gay, he just didn’t know it.  He had been called gay for years but what was ‘gay’?  He had no idea.  He had it drummed into his head that being gay was wrong.  When it was on Brookside his mother would demand it be turned off, “I’ll have non of that gay shit in my house, good God no, any kid of mine turned out queer they’d be out”.  Then the tele would go blank and nothing more would be said.  He got an almost daily beating from kids at school because they thought he was gay, how could he ever be gay in real life, he’d surely be killed?  When he was seven he was found by his mom rolling around the living room on top of his friend Lee.  The slap of the legs he got that night certainly put him off doing it again in a hurry.  He didn’t see this as wrong at the time though, he simply didn’t understand.

In  1996 Sam fell in love with his geography teacher. 

Mr Smith was a six foot, blonde sex bomb of a man and Sam was besotted by him.  He had a lean muscled body that he got from teaching PE as well as geography and he had thick blonde hair that ran up his long, toned arms.  Sam often sat and daydreamed in his lessons, wondering how far that hair went up, what he would look like naked and what it would be like to have sex with his teacher.  He would masturbate at night thinking of the things he wanted Mr Smith to do to him, where they would do it and how but after he climaxed he would feel sick and cry himself to sleep.  He didn’t want to be gay, he couldn’t be gay.  He found himself skiving his lessons so that he wouldn’t have to see him.  He spent hours in Safeway’s coffee shop drinking enough hot chocolate to refloat the Titanic until it was time to finish school for the day.

It was raining heavy one afternoon and Sam didn’t relish the prospect of playing rugby during PE so he forged a note from his mom and handed it to his gym teacher, Mr Carter.  He was used to receiving notes from Mrs Dent.  One week it was a cold, the next hay fever, he wondered what was next, period pains, an amputation, death?  The truth is he felt sorry for the Dent kid and so allowed him to spend time cleaning the gym instead; poor bastard got enough stick from the kids.

He got the gym cleaned pretty quickly, he’d had enough practise, and in the end boredom got the better of him and he decided to go into the teachers office to see what it was like, maybe there were some merit slips he could pinch and forge, him dad gave him a quid for each one.  He walked from the gym though the changing rooms and into the cold grey corridor of the swimming block.  It was a depressing sight, black worn tiles, grey walls that had most of the paint peeling off, the window, mostly boarded up looked out onto the science block of similar colours, the place really needed a facelift.

He was surprised to find the office door open, he really assumed it would be locked.  He walked in to find Mr Smith stood in the corner of the room.  He was naked apart from a pair of tight white underpants.  Sam’s mouth hung open as he took in the sight.  The long, lean, hairy legs rippling with muscle, the six pack with a glimmer of hair that led up to his tight chest full of course black hairs.  ‘Sam, what are you doing here?’ he asked, he didn’t seem shocked to see him or the least bit embarrassed.  ‘I… erm, I mean… well’.  ‘Never mind’ he replied showing impatience at Sam’s inability to form a word, ‘I wanted to speak to you about your non attendance to my lessons.’  He paused as if expecting Sam to speak, but he didn’t, he couldn’t.  ‘Is it that you don’t like geography?  Are you finding the subject hard?  Is it me you don’t like?’  ‘No sir, it’s because I’m infatuated with you, in fact I think I love you.  And I can’t sit through your lessons because the more time I spend with you the more I want you.  I have dirty thoughts, dreams where you take me and kiss me and make love to me on your desk, neither of us caring who will see us or what they will think because our love is so raw, so pure that nothing can stop it, nothing can separate us and keep us apart.  And that Sir is why I can’t be in your lessons.  I can’t bear to see you’.  Of course he never said this, his mouth never opened.  Instead he turned and ran out the swimming block and into the pouring rain.  The cold wetness smacked him so hard in the face it almost winded him, but he didn’t stop he ran across the field, the dirt beneath his feet turning to mud and making him slip but he managed to keep his balance.  He was almost at the school gate when Kirk came from behind a bush.  ‘Well well well, where you off to in a rush Mr Dent?’, ‘No where, Kirk please leave me alone, I need to get home’.  Kirk walked over, James wanted to run but he didn’t have the energy, stitch had taken over his left side and it was all he could do to take a breath. 

The punch to the stomach made him double over in pain, the last of the air taken from his tired body.  Kirk bent down a whispered, ‘you can keep running you little fucking faggot, but I’ll always catch you, I’ll always be around waiting to give you another pasting.  And I may not do it here, but one day, one day very soon I’m gonna take a knife to that pretty little neck of yours and put you out your misery.  We don’t need your kind around here, you make me sick’.  Kirk spat in Sam’s face and pushed him, he lost his balance and fell backwards into a puddle, the energy and fight had left him, all he could do was sit there in the mud as it soaked through his trousers, the rain flattening the hair around his face.  He looked in the distance as Kirk walked away laughing.  He had never in all his life wanted to die as much as he did then.  He was battered, humiliated, scared and broken.

He sat in bed that night and thought of all the things he could do to stop the bullying.  He needed to not be gay.  He needed to be straight, to like women like the normal boys, the boys who didn’t get beaten every day, the boys who didn’t like Take That, the boys who played football instead of My Little Pony.  Then it dawned on him.  He needed a girlfriend, and he knew the perfect person. 

Sally was his best friend.  She had joined the school just this year having moved from London because her parents had split up and she made it more than obvious that she fancied him.  That was it, he smiled to himself.  I’ll be straight, the bullying will stop, I can be happy again.

The next day he did what any self respecting spotty teenage boy would do and wrote Sally a letter asking her out and she of course accepted.  Word soon got around and people were visibly shocked but seemed to accept the news.  Sam was happy, Sally was ecstatic, his mom was clearly relieved and his dad high fived him, something he hoped to never see again for the rest of his natural life.

Things went well for the next few weeks, the name calling all but ended, people seemed to accept the new lady in Sam’s life and the bullies seemed to find someone new to pick on. 

One after noon James was cleaning the boys changing rooms while the rest of the group played rugby in the rain.  This week he had a knee injury that prevented him from participating in anything physical. 

Sam was happy in his own little world, he loved spending time with Sally, she was his best mate and they had so much in common, his parents seemed less stressed these days and he enjoyed not coming home with a black eye or piss stained trousers or a ripped shirt.  Life was good.  The sound of the gym door opening brought him out of his reverie.  He looked at his watch, only half two, the lads had at least another half hour of play left.  Sam’s heart stopped beating as Kirk walked in.  All the air seemed to leave the room and he couldn’t breathe.  ‘Been waiting to see you Samuel, but we never had any privacy.  Congratulations on getting yourself a bit of skirt’.  Sam was shocked, he seemed almost pleasant, happy for him in a way, ‘Of course’, he continued ‘she’s one ugly cunt, fat, ginger, no tits.  Is that what you like Sammy boy, the no tits business, remind you of a boy does she?’  He moved across the room with such speed it shocked Sam to find him up in his face before he had chance to react and he whispered in Sam’s ear, ‘getting a wank of that minger aint gonna make you any less a faggot Sam, it’s a cover up, a nice little rouse to keep your vile mother happy.’  Sam broke his silence, gaining some fight from somewhere inside him, ‘I’m not gay Kirk, I’m in love with Sally, and don’t you fucking dare call my mom…’  Sam didn’t finish his sentence, Kirk grabbed him by the throat and spun him round.  ‘Don’t swear at me pretty boy, you are a fucking faggot and I’ll show you’.  Sam couldn’t breathe, Kirk was holding his throat too tight, he tried to struggle but his grip seemed to tighten.  He had never felt fear like it in all his life.  Kirk threw him against the wall, his head banging against the cold white tiles of the shower blocks.  He must have lost consciousness for a few seconds because when he came to his trousers and pants were pulled down around his ankles.  He could feel Kirks warm putrid breath on his neck.  ‘I’ll show you your gay Sam, trust me you will enjoy this’.  Sam heard Kirk’s pull down his zip and felt the trousers brush his legs as they fell around his ankles.  Sam pleaded for him to stop but his cries seemed to make it worse.  He felt Kirks erection on his ass cheek and he silently prayed that someone would walk in but he knew they wouldn’t, he could only hope that this would be over quickly.  Kirk clamped his hand over Sam’s mouth as he forced his cock inside him.  The pain was unbearable and it didn’t stop.  He forced himself all the way in, tears streamed down Sam’s face as he silently cried, unable to scream, unable to stop it.  When Kirk had finished he withdrew and turned Sam around, ‘see batty boy, I knew you would like it’.  Sam wanted to smack the arrogant look of his face, he wanted to strangle him till there was no life left in his body, he wanted to slit his throat and laugh as he took his last breath.  Instead he just fell into a heap, crying in the corner of the shower block as Kirk pulled up his trousers and walked away.  ‘Oh, and one thing Sam, a word of this to anyone and I will kill you.  I promise’.  The menacing look in Kirks eyes told Sam that he was serious and he knew there and then that he would never breathe a word of this to anyone.

Sam sat at home that night and cried and cried and cried.  He felt violated, dirty and nasty.  He was in so much pain he could barely sit down.  He knew nothing was going to stop the torture, this would happen for the rest of his life, he had no control over any of it.

He sat on the end of his bed and looked at his wrist, he had drunk half a bottle of vodka and he could hardly think straight, he was pleased he had the house to himself, it would make it all easier.  He took the blade he had taken from his dads razor and taking a deep breathe he forced the blade into his wrist.  It didn’t seem to hurt, in fact he felt a buzz from the sight of his blood rushing from his artery.  He pulled the blade down his arm, he knew this was the way to do it, not across the wrist but down the artery.  He wanted this done properly, he didn’t want to survive.  A few seconds later he dropped the blade to the floor and lay back on his bed.  He could feel the life leaving his body, he thought about his family, he thought about Sally and he smiled.  He would miss them but he couldn’t be here anymore.  He couldn’t go through this torture all his life.  He wanted to die.  He wanted all his problems to go and they were, he would now be at peace.  And that was the last thought that crossed his mind before he drifted into a deep sleep.

Prologue

Samuel hated flying.  He wasn’t so much scared of the concept , although he certainly didn’t feel safe up there, it was more the event ; getting to the airport, the queuing for check in, the five hour walk around duty free because your flight was delayed, then paying over the odds for a dried up sandwich and thimble of coke in the two-star-if-your-lucky restaurant you felt compelled to buy because ‘you’re on your holidays’.  Sam had faced all of this today as well as a twenty minute grilling by passport control who wanted to know where he was going, why he was going alone and where he would be staying.  When Sam asked if he wanted to know what kind of under wear he had on the guard didn’t find it remotely funny and advised him that any more lip would result in an anal search so thorough he would be feeling Sam’s heart through his arse.  He decided to stay quiet, for a change.  All these things would normally make him angry but the worst part was sitting in the worlds smallest chair, wedged in like a battery hen for several hours while a bunch of jumped up waitresses try to force feed you boil in the bag cat sick and push duty free down your neck. 

So there he is sat.  Seat F row 34, his home for the next eight or so hours.  After the trauma of the airport he was now calm and relaxed and incredibly excited, not only because the in flight meal was chicken (and not a curry), or because the film was one he hadn’t seen before but because he was on his way to spend his life with his one true love and the thought made him happier then he ever thought he could be.

Introduction To The Story

I started writing this story about ten years ago.  I was sat at work, supposed to be selling some houses but all these thoughts kept running through my head and I just had to get some of it down on paper before I went mad.  The result was a short story that, on reflection, wasn't that good and so once finished I ignored it.  But it wouldn't go away.

So ten years on, having lost the original on my old lap tap a long time ago, I decided to start it again.  It's a story that I feel a little embarrassed to share because it's been a labor of love for so long, it's not real life but I'd be a liar if I said some of it wasn't based on true events, either that have happened to me or people I know, it's embellished in places (a lot in some) and any similarity to a person or place is purely coincidental.


So here it is, I'll split it into chapters so it's easier to follow...  Oh and if your easily offended I'd turn it off now!