No love for a wicked soul

Warning: Mentions of sexual violence, bullying and suicide.

Humans are the most wicked beings on planet Earth.

I know, unbelievable observation. Totally unique worldview. The thing everyone says once in a while in their most cynical moments. However, most base this on news from warzones, endless studies of climate change or documentaries of serial killers. They never base this on the constant evil within us, that makes us into an animal among the rest of God's creation.

Am I evil? Probably. I have done some shit. When I was young it was innocent. I never harmed anyone, but I had difficulties keeping my mouth shut. I might have told someone that they gained 40 pounds, and once I told a teacher that her dress was hideous. You know, shit that was never said with malice, but was simply an observation from a child. Every time that happened, someone would tell me to keep these things to myself, because I could hurt someone. I didn’t understand then. I thought it was ridiculous to be hurt by mere words. Sure, it wasn’t exactly fun to be called “Timmy the skinny” every day in school, but I never cried when the other kids called me names. I knew that the things they said weren’t true. At that point, it was more painful to be beat up. At first I thought that they did this because I had accidentally hurt them with something I said. Therefore I kept my mouth shut when I was in school, just to not draw unnecessary attention to myself. It didn’t help. If anything, it got worse. It wasn’t until I heard a few adults talking about me, that I realized why I was the target for such cruelty. It was after church, when I once again had a small debate with the priest. To my defense, he had gotten many things wrong. A few other my bullies’ parents stood by the side and sounded very upset. I shouldn’t have listened, but I did, and that’s when I heard what they said:

“That child is nothing but a freak.”

When I got home, I sat in front of a mirror for hours, just to understand what they were talking about. I tried to find anything with me that made me a freak, but found nothing. I looked like anybody else. Some might have said that I was an adorable child. I asked my mom if I was a freak. She smiled, but her eyes sparkled with anger when she asked me why I would ask such things. I told her what those adults had said about me. She kissed my forehead and whispered tenderly:

“You are not a freak, dearest. You are a perfect little boy with the most unique of minds. Only those of simple minds dare call anyone else a freak.”

I knew she loved me, and that’s why she accepted my so called unique mind. After all, all my bullies were deeply loved by their mothers, despite them being cruel little beasts. However, I realized that it was my mind that was the target of hatred. I had already known that I wasn’t thinking like my peers, which bothered kids and adults alike. In fact, I think the adults hated me even more than their kids did. Maybe that’s why no one ever tried to stop the situation. Maybe that’s why things grew even worse. The beating hurt more, as we hit our teens. The words they spat at me became more vulgar, and started to cut deeper. Those words hurt even more, now that they have become reality. I tried to hide, by dressing myself in big clothes to hide my thin body and keeping my gaze low, to avoid any unwanted attention. Yet it seemed to provoke them to hurt me even more. Still no adult tried to help me. Instead they watched me with glee as I limped away from school after another terrible day. At this point I wondered if it was some sort of punishment, just because I was created different. I cursed the indifferent almighty God for putting me through hell while I was still living and breathing. I started to believe that I didn’t deserve any love.

Well, at least until I met Scott.

He was one of the few that didn’t look at me like I was a freak. Rather he seemed to view me in a way that was unfamiliar to me. He listened to me, like everything I had to say was of great importance. He never missed a chance to tell me how amazing I was, that those kids were just jealous of me, because they could never match my wit, intelligence and beauty. It felt good to know that I was accepted, even liked because of my mind. It didn’t hurt that he found me beautiful either. Then one day he kissed me and told me that he loved me. I had kissed before, but had found it a tad bit overrated. I didn’t feel any butterflies this time either. Instead my body felt so disgustingly cold when his lips caressed mine. I know I shouldn’t have let him do this, but I did, and that wasn’t the only thing I allowed him to do. Of course I was affected by his touch. I was a hormonal teenager with raging needs that needed to be satisfied. He wasn’t mean to me either, but caring and tender, like I was his most beloved little porcelain doll. Still this crippling cold within me never went away, and to be honest it still hasn’t left me ‘til this day. I know I should have stopped him, but I didn’t. Instead it was my father who put an end to this when he caught Scott red handed. I should have let my father kill him then and there, but instead I begged for mercy on his part. Yet I kept quiet when dad asked me why. How was I supposed to explain that I let this grown man have sex with me for a year straight? Not even Scott’s pleading made me falter. I knew he never loved me, he loved the little boy I was. And I never loved him back.

So, he was banished from the ranch, but he never really left. Everything he had done left a scorching mark on my soul. However, he made me realize that some parts of me would never change. Luckily, the rest of me did. When I got back to school that year, I had gained at least three inches of height during the summer, which was enough to grow past almost all of my classmates. The first one dumb enough to open his mouth, got one punch to the jaw and a warning that next time I would break it. After that incident, no one even dared to cross me. Cowards.

So I got a few last peaceful years in High School, before heading to college to study music. I knew I was talented, but my talent caught the attention of another man who would change my life. Professor Charles Jenner, or Charlie. I’ll never forget the sparkle in his eyes when I sang for him. He insisted that I’d take private classes for him for free. It was too good of an offer to pass, so I took it. He said that he was going to teach me until I surpassed him. However, I realized quickly that he was more interested in other aspects than just raw talent. I knew by the way he looked at me when I sang or played whatever instrument in my hand. I knew by the tenderness he would guide me through different chords. I knew by the way he finally kissed me, after not being able to resist anymore. He looked me in the eyes and said that it was unfair how I gotten everything anyone could ask for, brains, talent and beauty. I felt myself blush and my heart fluttered like wings of butterflies. We kissed again, before making love for the first time. It was addicting, to have sex when the feelings are mutual. So addicting that I kept coming back for more. However, Charlie was married since twenty five years, and we had be very discreet. Yet he promised me that he would divorce his wife as soon as I graduated, and then we could be together and create music which would touch souls all over the world. I loved that dream, and it helped me through the pain. It kept me sane when Charlie started to demand to meet me more often, when he became more strict with his teaching, when he started to be more rough when we fucked. I told myself that once I graduated, we could be together and everything would be fine.

But everything changed.

While I was away for college, my best friend Lucy ended up in an abusive marriage to our math teacher. I always thought their relationship was a bit strange, since he had known us since we were fourteen. Things had only escalated and at this point Lucy wasn’t even able to leave their house. One night she called me, crying and begging for me to help her. I immediately went back to Devil’s Eye to help her get away. When I got to their house, her husband was there. I was frightened by the cold and greedy look in his eyes. It was clear as day that he didn’t love Lucy more than a simple possession. The thing that frightened me the most was how much this look resembled the one I had seen more frequently in Charlie’s eyes for the last six months. I realized that Charlie had only loved the talented boy he saw, but never me. The first thing I did when I got back to uni, was to break things off with him. Of course he threw a tantrum and demanded I stay with him. Instead of caving in, I stood my ground and told him that we were done, that I was done with him. This defiance would however cost me everything. I lost every single opportunity I had gained through Charlie. No more headlining school shows. No more private classes. No encouragement from others. And one day I was expelled. I was told the reason was that I didn’t have the talent for an aspiring musician. I knew this was bullshit. The reason was that Charlie was butthurt that his little doll didn’t want to play with him anymore, and as revenge had pulled the strings to punish me for it. But not before I got revenge on him. While I ran out of my five seconds of fame, I noticed a new bright and shining star on the sky. And wouldn’t you know, the golden boy was professor Jenner’s new toy. Before I left, I made sure to document their every single move with videos and pictures. The same day my oldest brother picked me up from college, was the same day I sent every piece of evidence to Charlie’s wife. As soon as I got home, I was bombarded with text messages of how I had ruined his life. Funny, since he was the one to ruin mine first. I never responded and blocked his number. I decided to move on and get my life on a somewhat stable track again.

Then my dad died.

A bullet of lead cut his life short on 4th of July. Things were never the same after that. My mom became a shell of her former self after the tragedy. Yet she received no sympathy during her period of grief. All respect the townsfolk had held for our family seemed to follow dear old dad into the grave. That was when I realized that my torment during my childhood, was an extension or the hatred against my mom, an immigrant who had snatched my dad away from the good god fearing people of Devil’s eye, the ancient hatred of the normal towards the faulty. I decided to make every single one of them pay for it. I started to pay attention to every single rumor that arose, and investigated them to make that they held any sort of truth. Once I had gathered up enough evidence, I let the rest of the town know just how much of a bunch hypocritical buffoons they truly were. How I managed that without getting caught, is only for me to know. 

While causing chaos in Devil’s Eye, me and my brothers Daryl and Jeffrey started a band. It was intended as a fun thing at first, but things went well for us, really well. We decided to aim higher, only to find that it wasn’t easy. I don’t know what we expected in a world that has stopped value art from the heart, but we were turned down almost instantly. We were either told that our music wasn’t sellable or that we had to change our sound to be more palatable so to say. Each time I told them very nicely to go and fuck themselves. I wasn’t going to change my art to appeal to some braindead businessman who could only speak in dollar signs. Eventually I got a call from a higher up on a record label, which had turned us down a month beforehand. He told me that he had an offer, if I was interested. I should have known something was wrong, considering how many times I had been fooled already. Yet I agreed to see him in his office. As soon as we shook hands, I saw how he looked me up and down with the greed of a wolf. I really should have known what he wanted. At the same time I was so used to being gazed at by both men and women, so I paid it no mind. He told me that he could fix both a manager and a contract that guaranteed us three albums. However, this would not come without payment. I remembered looking at him and asking:

“What do you want from us then?”

He gave me a lustful creepy smile, leaned forward and said:

“The only thing I ask from you, is to show me what those gorgeous lips can do.”

I should have been disgusted. I should have realized that it wasn’t worth it. I should have walked away. I didn’t do any of those things. After all, I knew what could happen to us if I didn’t agree to his terms. So, I did what he asked of me. It wasn’t forced in any way, even though he got a little rough handed as he was getting nearer to climax. That was all he wanted, and he kept his promise. A week later we got the call that we had a manager and a contract. Daryl and Jeffrey celebrated like we had won the Nobel Prize, but the only thing I could feel was the same cold feeling I had every time Scott kissed me. 

Things went well, but each year an emptiness grew within me. It felt like I hadn’t deserved any of this. After all it wasn’t my talent that had gotten us fame and fortune. Maybe that was why I kept seeking comfort in different men’s arms. Sometimes they were gentle, sometimes they just used me and tossed me aside like a used condom. What they all got in common was that none of them loved me, they only loved the way they could seek pleasure from my body. Maybe that was why things escalated at home. The things I revealed about the townsfolk got darker and caused even worse turmoil than before. It all ended with a man committing suicide. I can’t say that I felt particularly sorry for him, as he was one of the worst bullies. However, I will always be haunted by the words I spoke to him when he called me and told me how cruel I had been to him.

“How can you expect any mercy from me, when you never once in your life showed me any?”

He hung up, and the next day he was dead. This incident killed the relation between me and my brother Arthur, and he told me that he never wanted to see me again. I did what he asked. What else can you do?

So, here I am, laying in another hotel bed, in another town. I thought I had learned my lesson. I tried to love again. He told me that I was the smartest and the most beautiful man he had ever met. Of course it was a lie. He never loved me, only the way he and his friends could use my drugged up body as fuck toy. I didn’t fight back, nor did I try get free, just as a perfect little doll. I saw it myself. A video can’t lie. Even though I don’t remember any of it, I am familiar with the cold disgusting feeling within. Looking back at my life, maybe I do deserve it. With all the bad things I have done, what else did I expect? There is no love for a wicked soul.