Eclipse Of The Moon ~ Book 1 of Aaron
Chapter 14
Please, God, Help Me...

⚠️ Warning: The picture in the header says it all. Proceed at your own risk, but know that there aren't many gory details, it's more in the emotions ⚠️

Saturday 12 October 2002

Pain.

Pain is an unpleasant sensation, which can range from mild discomfort to agony. It can be burning, throbbing, and aching. What I feel right now is not agony, but it certainly goes beyond the notions of unpleasant and discomfort.

Physical pain is the result from nerve stimulation, either in a localized area, but it can also be diffuse. It is a type of message sent through the nervous system, and right now, I do get the message. I not only get it, but I also feel it as this thing is ripping me open in a way that shouldn't be so painful.

Mental pain is the result of an emotional distress. It is not supposed to hurt physically, even if your heart aches when it occurs. It has more to do with psychological responses to certain events, things you hear or see and that you don't deal well with. This is something I feel even worse than the physical pain right now. Not only from the humiliation and discomfort, but also from Camden's agonizing screams resulting from his own frustration and helplessness.

Combine both physical and emotional pains together, and I am on the verge of sinking deep into madness.

Why?

Why do I have to experience this?

I suddenly remember what one of my biology teachers once told us in class. The word pain comes from the Latin poena, a fine, a penalty.

Is this God's penance for my sins? Would He go that far? Is this the way He punishes His disciples for their sins?

* * *

1pm.

Why the heck is time so slow today? It's always the same when you wish it would move faster.

Just out of the shower, I towel myself down, put on my briefs and return to my bedroom. There, I lie down on my bed and slip my left hand inside my underwear, thinking about what should be an excellent weekend. I turned 17 two days ago and since it's mid-October, the guys and I are having our usual birthday party this afternoon, and we have agreed to meet at 2:30 at the shack.

I'm not sure our gathering will escalate into naughty fun because we have much more interesting plans for tomorrow, but who knows? We might end up watching porn magazines and jack off while talking about all the things we could do to Danny on Sunday... Mmm... Just thinking about it has me so hard...

I'm such a sinner.

A sin is a transgression of the Law of God. We are all sinners and Jesus died for our sins. He said no one comes to the Father except through me. This is the reason for his birth, death and resurrection. This is the way he provides us, sinful mankind, with a way to Heaven.

I am a multiple sinner.

I have sinned so many times in my short life that it would require another lifetime of penance to redeem my soul and for God to forgive me. It would require another lifetime in purgatory to atone for my sins. I'm not sure Jesus' death is enough for God to forgive me ever.

I have lied. Countless times. Every day. Several times a day. To my friends. To my parents. To Father Joseph. To God.

I am a sinner.

I have dishonored my parents, many times cursing them, speaking and thinking evil about them. I have failed to take better care of their old age. I have failed the fourth commandment.

I am a sinner.

I have been a hypocrite, in so many ways. Toward God, because I keep on defying His laws knowingly, going to confession without thinking pretty much a word of what I say to Father Joseph. Toward my parents, because I keep acting around them so that they leave me alone.

I am a sinner.

I have committed adultery, relentlessly. I have had impure thoughts, tempted others sexually, made crude jokes, enjoyed pornography, been attracted to same sex people, and fornicated.

I am a sinner.

The list is long and could even expand further, but I guess this is enough to show how much of a bad Catholic I am. I often wonder why I still consider myself as a Catholic, honestly. I assume this is due to the way I was raised and because I just can't entirely break free from my childhood beliefs that God exists and watches over me. As much as I have been denigrating my religion in the past years, a small part of me still tends to believe in Him somehow, knowing that there are more moderate ways to live your faith.

I'm definitely a hypocrite.

Imposture. Duplicity. Pretence. Deceit.

These are certainly some of my worst sins because I resort to these nearly every minute of my life, even at school now. I used to be a hypocrite around my family and at church only, faking to be an average catholic. They all know my faith isn't as deep as theirs, but I have been acting good enough for them to trust me. And it was all on purpose, just so that they wouldn't bother me too much and allow me the minimum of freedom I needed to survive.

At the end of the day, the only moments I can be myself are when I'm around my best friends or alone. However, where I used to be an impostor only at church and at home, I now have to use these ploys at school as well, and that's God's penance for having fooled around with another boy two weeks ago.

Lucky me.

As opposed to what one may believe, my parents have always been a bit gullible, and I have often exploited their relative naivety. Do I care? No. Without these subterfuges, I wouldn't have pulled through all these years. Their strict and rigorous catholic customs have been oppressing ever since I was born, and it's not until adolescence that I realized how opposed our opinions were. Nonetheless, as a minor, I haven't had other options than to deal with whatever my parents decided.

Acting around them as a fairly-faithful Catholic and a good son only aimed at earning their trust, so that they wouldn't be on my back 24/7. Politeness, enduring their religious rituals, going to church without protesting too much, all these have required a lot of efforts on my side, but the compensation has been significant: spending time with my best friends. That's the pact I made with myself years ago and it has worked pretty well so far.

What happened two weeks ago was merely a slight incident, and I'm glad I had the presence of mind to use and abuse of my vile habits through lying. Lying saved me again from serious troubles, I believe, despite harder consequences.

I earned another long conversation with my father the day after he beat me up. However, I had had the whole night to perfect my arguments, and convincing him of his own wrongdoing when he judged me without a fair trial was almost like a walk in the park. The old man spent the entire Saturday afternoon confessing and praying at church, which kind of made me feel bad, but not that much. Somehow, it was also fair justice for all the sanctions and dissented rigor I have endured since my birth.

In all events, my father returned home with a contrite expression and he even apologized to me, asking for my forgiveness. Small victory, though. He didn't forget the part about same-sex attraction I had stupidly admitted, and unfortunately, his sentiment is still the same. Homosexuality is an abomination, so unsurprisingly, that had to yield more problems and lies for me.

It could have been worse. Confessing I had indulged in homosexual acts would have sent me straight to crucifixion. I just had to tell him what I thought he needed to hear, breeding more lies. I just couldn't risk facing more of his wrath. Only God knows what my father would be capable of to put me on the supposedly right path.

"Dad..." I reasoned with mocked shame. "That's really new... Something I only barely realized and I'm not even sure about it... I'm just confused... and a bit lost... It's probably just a phase I'm going through. But I'll fight it, Dad," I added with the best determination I could muster. "I won't let myself fall off from God's Laws. I'm one of God's children and I won't deceive Him."

It must have been my best play-acting ever, but also the hardest one on me. These words hurt me to the core, even if they were just lies. My attraction for males is nothing new, my sexual experience anything but innocent even if I started quite late, and to me, gay sex is just natural.

That night, as I replayed the conversation in my head, I couldn't resist the urge to scratch my arms until they started bleeding. I hated myself for not standing for my deepest beliefs. I should have told my father to go fuck himself and to accept me as I am because this is not a phase. I am gay.

I would have liked to scream my desire for men, my lust for dicks, my craving for assholes, but I couldn't do this. The consequences would have been far worse than what they are. Until I turn 18 and am able to cash in the money I have on this blocked bank account, I can only make up lies and fake a tamed behavior. And deal with the consequences of that naughty afternoon in the locker room.

I was grounded for an entire week for getting detention with Coach Evans. No matter how much I explained that it was to support a classmate who felt unwell, my father kept arguing that I should have taken the other boy to the nurse instead of raising suspicions. Between one additional hour with Coach Evans every day and having to then go straight back home after school, that week was an unpretty pain in my neck.

On top of that, I have had to double my efforts to get back in my parents' good books. I spoke with my mother, serving her a similar speech, not only to soothe her worries – poor old woman nearly had a heart attack when Mrs. Jones called her to ramble on what her fucker of a son had ratted on me – but also to earn her trust back.

As much as my father clearly represent the High Authority in the household, my mother has a certain influence on him and I truly count on her to help release the pressure on me at some point. It might take some time, though, because the thought of having a gay son does horrify her too, so I'll have to work twice as hard around her. I am even considering asking Josephine Miller for a date. Eww...

The last two weeks have been filled with more visits to church – as part of my redemption – but contrary to what I thought, it hasn't been that difficult, even around Father Joseph. Lies. More lies. A contrite expression. A remorseful tone. Apologies. It only proves how much of a disloyal Catholic I am, but deep down, I hope God will eventually forgive when it's time to atone for all my sins in purgatory. Especially after the most unfaithful confession I ever did on the Sunday.

That day was actually full of surprises, and some weren't that bad.

As usual, we went to mass, and I was a bit afraid of a possible confrontation with Isaac, and rightfully so since our families arrived at church at the same time. My stomach began to churn when I saw their dejected expressions. To avoid gossips, my parents tried to avoid the Jones, but Isaac's mother had other plans in mind.

The bitch reached for my mother, wearing the most sorrowful and compassionate countenance, as if she was about to present condolences. My old man didn't let her speak though. He asked her if Isaac had been in the locker room that Friday afternoon, which she obviously invalidated. To my utter amazement, my father delivered a powerful speech on the eighth commandment, first declaiming a solemn Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor that made her blanch, then basically told her everything I had seethed to him, but in a much better prose than I did.

Mrs. Jones was freaking speechless. So was I, by the way. I had a hard time containing my laughter when she understood her own mistake and glared at her son. As we stepped into the church, I only had time to see her whisper things to her husband whose eyes terrifyingly darkened when he looked at Isaac, so I don't know what happened next, but I couldn't care less. All that mattered was that our families' potential friendship was unequivocally ruined.

Since then, I haven't tried to prod any further and the less I have to deal with him, the better I feel. However, from what the guys and I have heard or seen, his life can't be too funny at the moment since he has been pretty quiet in class and seems to hurry home after school every day. I can't be sure, but if I judge by the little time I have spent around his parents, his childhood and adolescence may have rhymed with mine, and who knows? Perhaps he isn't as good a liar as I am.

Hopefully, the war is over between us and he will leave me alone in the future, but I'm still keeping my distance and putting on my best behavior at school, which isn't always easy. Coach Evans has decided to make my PE classes a hell, and well, I just accept it, hoping it will pass sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, I simply bear my cross: I comply with his orders, dutifully perform all the chores he assigns me with and ignore his constant remarks. His rancor is real, though, so I watch my every step.

Back to the Sunday afternoon after the locker room incident, determined to play well at the start of my one-week grounding, I informed my parents that I was going to confess at church. Sadly, they didn't let me go on my own, for fear I might sneak away and meet my friends. They walked me there and waited in the park nearby the whole time I was in confession with Father Joseph.

While the priest finished whatever he was busy with, I went to the second pew and began to pray. Confessing is all about being honest and repentant. I was supposed to pray that I'd remember all my sins. I was supposed to put my heart and soul in my prayers. I was supposed to reflect on my faith. Instead, I prayed to God that He would forgive me for being about to lie again.

When I heard the priest go to the confessional booth, I waited for a couple more minutes, then joined him there. I knelt on the step behind the screen, made the Sign of the Cross and inhaled a deep breath before I began to speak, striving to sound remorseful and sincere.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one week ago, and since then, I know of no mortal sins, but my venial sins are these: I had impure thoughts for another man twice this week..." I said, taking a brief pause.

Well, I wasn't going to confess the entire truth, was I? The plan was to stick to what I had admitted to my parents – my attraction for males – and to demonstrate my eagerness for redemption. Confessing homosexual acts to Father Joseph would have been near-suicide since it's considered as a mortal sin.

"For these and all the sins of my past life, I ask pardon of God, penance, and absolution from you, Father. I need your help to overcome this..."

"Have you only had impure thoughts for another man, Son? Or have you undertaken homosexual acts?" the priest asked in return.

"Only impure thoughts, Father..." I replied with a small voice full of remorse.

"I will help you indeed, Son. How long has this lasted?"

Several years, Father...

"This is very recent, Father, just a few weeks."

"You're young, Son, and you have so much yet to learn, much more to discover. It might be a phase that you will overcome as you grow older and get closer to the opposite sex."

Not likely, Father. I'm not bi-sexual. I'm a hundred percent gay.

I couldn't tell him that for obvious reasons, yet his remark was expected, and I was ready with an answer.

"I'm sure that's what it is, Father, but please, help me... I need God to forgive me..." I pleaded almost theatrically.

"Don't worry, Son, as one of God's children, and as long as you don't yield to the temptation, He shall forgive you. You have to remember that sexual intercourse is solely reserved to procreation and to foster mutual love between husband and wife, but unless you get rid of this vile attraction for males, you shall never yield to carnal temptation."

"Father... Does this mean I could be gay and God would still love me?" I asked

My curiosity was piqued by his unexpected reasoning. Father Joseph has always been a strict priest whose archaic beliefs usually match my parents', so I sincerely thought he would give me hell for something as little as impure thoughts.

"He would if you made sure to honestly confess each of these vile thoughts and to never yield to the temptation, Son," he explained more sternly. "There is this pastoral letter that bishops wrote a few years ago, and it says this: God loves every person as a unique individual. Sexual identity helps to define the unique persons we are, and one component of our sexual identity is sexual orientation. Thus our total personhood is more encompassing than sexual orientation. Human beings see the appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart."

I was quite dumbfounded that Father Joseph would quote such a letter. A letter that seems to be bearing more understanding toward homosexuality than what I'm used to hear in his church. However, I wasn't expecting too much from him, as his tone left little doubt on his stricter views.

"Don't forget Leviticus all the same, Son," he continued almost threateningly. "If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. God does love all his children. As long as they respect his Laws. Do you understand what I mean?"

Oh, I certainly did. God might forgive same-sex attraction provided His children atone for their sinful thoughts and don't indulge in carnal pleasures, enticing them to a lifetime of abstinence.

I'm screwed then.

"Yes, Father, I understand," I replied with determination.

"You're a good Son, Aaron. I'm certain it's only a short phase, you just have to realize how disgusting it is. Meanwhile, you will do five rosaries for your penance, and I hope it will help you to find your faith again."

After my act of contrition, I welcomed Father Joseph's words of forgiveness, thanked him, and went on with my good willingness to the Christ to do my penance. I'm such a hypocrite. I behaved like the good young Catholic I'm supposed to be in the priest's eyes, praying I managed to fool him. If it was what it'd take to recover my freedom, I just had to give it my best shot.

One more year.

One more year to deal with this shit.

On October 10th next year, I will cash these 10 000 dollars – which should be a nice amount to start a new life – and break free from my family's grip. I don't know yet where I'll go or what I'll do, I still have another full year to plan my future and think of an unqualified job I could do. Once the guys have validated their college choices, I will probably settle down somewhere between them.

And then, I'll live my life the way I want it. Before I consider giving my heart to anyone, I will indulge in the pleasures of sex, I will tap as many asses as I want, I will fuck all the guys my dick will harden for. I will no longer have to hide and muffle my moans like I'm doing right now while my seed spill on my chest.

Shit! I don't even have tissues here!

Thank God, my father is working downstairs and my mother is at the Millers' with my sisters, so I quietly head out to the restrooms where I can clean up with toilet paper and flush the incriminating evidence, before I return to my bedroom.

1.20pm.

Ugh... That's enough. I need to get out of here, and since I might be delayed by my father, the sooner, the better. For once, I haven't really prepared my escape other than informing my parents that I might hang out with my friends in the late afternoon, but as I slip on a pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeved tee-shirt, my hoodie and sneakers, I eventually come up with a good excuse.

"Where are you going, Aaron?" my father asks nervously from the dining room as I reach the bottom of the staircase.

It's not in his habits to work over the weekend, and yet, there are several folders scattered on the table. He isn't one to stress for his job either, but I remember that earlier this week, he said that the business was quite busy at the moment, and I wonder if that's what's making him anxious. Come to think about it, he got home later than usual on Wednesday and Thursday, and he has been acting a little weird lately.

"I'm going for a run, Dad," I reply as naturally as I can, though that's an easy lie since I have been training a lot over the past two weeks.

During my grounding, I just couldn't bear staying at home so much, so I told my parents that I needed more running practice for PE classes, pretending to be behind most of my classmates' level, and it worked out well. However, they established a new curfew at 4:30pm on school days – because they don't trust me yet – and it's far too early for my taste. It means spending way too much time at home, so I have decided to keep this little stratagem for a while. Even if it doesn't allow me to see my friends much more, at least that's still an hour away from my family.

"Good. It's nice to see you make efforts for better grades, Son, and I hope that Coach Evans can see your progress," he comments, lowering his head to look back at his documents.

"Yes, he does, Dad..."

"Alright. An hour or two in the forest, then?" he then asks, without even looking up.

On Tuesday evening, I pulled out of the forest just as my father drove by, and if I appreciated the ride home, I also had to admit that it was where I was running.

"Yes, and I might stop over by the Murrays to see Mark a bit too."

"Didn't you say you were going to meet your friends tomorrow already?" he retorts, this time squinting at me.

"Yes, but... I won't stay long and I'll be back by 5:30 the latest, Dad."

"Fine. Watch your step in the woods, don't sprain an ankle," he concludes, new traces of nervousness in his old and wrinkled features.

"I'll be careful, Dad. See you later!" I reply as I head toward the entrance door.

"Aaron!" he calls out, though, and as I turn to face him, I am faced with rare fatherly emotions shining in his eyes.

"Yes, Dad?"

"I love you, Son. Be a good boy," he says before he returns to his folders.

"Me too, Dad..."

Alright, that's enough weirdness, so I hurry outside and begin to slowly jog away. It must be barely a quarter to two, which means I will be too early at the shack, but that's fine, I can busy myself with our magazines meanwhile. And with a bit of luck, the guys might be early too.

Since I'm in no hurry in fact, I stop running once I have passed around the corner of our street and just walk at an unflagging pace instead. As much as I long to be with my friends, I can't wait until tomorrow for real, because that's when we'll consume our birthday present.

And our birthday present is called Danny.

We had always thought that Danny was the type of solitary and uptight nerd, but we were clearly mistaken. In reality, he's a wicked little creep who's craving kinky sex. Unfortunately, our relationship has stalled after what happened in the locker room, quite logically since we always have Coach Evans on our backs, and no matter how quiet he has become, Isaac remains a threat.

However, we managed to secretly meet in the forest a few times last week – did people really think I was truly going to run for an hour every evening? – and we resumed things where we had left them off two weeks ago. Just blowjobs, but damn! That was the release I needed despite the fear to get caught and the scary cracking noises. To be honest, it only happened once, keeping it at kisses and making-out the other afternoons we met, but we also talked a lot.

On Wednesday, he left me speechless when the little minx said he would like to pay back Joshua for having saved our asses from Coach Evans. I didn't need further explanations; his impish smile and his blush were clear enough. Even if we're not officially boyfriends, I could have been upset from his innuendo, but it was quite the opposite actually. I suddenly remembered how I had pictured him kneeling in front of me and my friends a few days before.

"Mark and Cam might be jealous," I teased him.

"I never meant to leave them aside... I'd happily pleasure them too..." he smirked back at me.

The following day, the five of us had lunch together and we made plans for a naughty Sunday afternoon at Joshua's place. His parents left for their vacation last night and Liz is supposed to only show up at dinner time, so we will have the house to ourselves tomorrow.

Autumn is my favorite season. Our forest is beautiful with all these warm orange colors, and as weird as it may sound, I love the scent of dead leaves and humid soil. The distant noise of a cracking branch has me startle, but peering around, I can't see anything. It must have been an animal. Or the guys playing tricks on me, but I doubt. Having had this unpleasant – and probably paranoid – sensation to be watched in the last few days, I make a small detour, often looking back because I don't want anyone to find out about our shack, but the noise doesn't repeat.

When I reach the familiar tree, I take a moment to stare at our little haven. When I think about what it used to look like at first, I can't help chuckling. Thanks to Tony Jacobson and Paul Murray's help, it was pretty nice, but we have clearly improved it over the years in terms of space and height. However, the shack is getting old and perhaps not very safe with its rotting wood. Maybe we should consider destroying it and building a new one, but at the same time, we won't be using it much after next summer and once we have all moved away.

With the help of a long stick, I pull the rope ladder down and climb up. My head and shoulders have barely passed the opening at the center of the floor that powerful hands grab my arms and pull me inside.

Ugh... These guys and their freaking jokes!

However, I quickly discard this option as I get thrown on the floor, and when a heavy weight sits on my back, I begin to freak out a bit.

Panic hits me as a piece of cloth is shoved inside my mouth, secured by two laps of tape, not even giving me time to scream for help, and before I know it, I find myself blindfolded by more fabric.

Oh my God!! What the hell is going on?

My hands try to reach for my assaulters and my legs kick wherever they can, but there is so much I can do on my own against at least two people, one of which is heavily sat on me. My chances actually blow off seconds later when my wrists get bound together at the small of my back with more tape, leaving me completely helpless.

"Will you stop moving, you fag?" a deep voice growls above me, grabbing a handful of my hair and harshly tilting my head back.

"Let me check the picture," someone else says, in front of me. "Yes, that's him."

Fuck! These voices don't ring a bell to me. Who are these guys? What do they want with me?

The answer comes right away as I get dragged further at the back of the shack where my sweatpants and briefs are jerked down to my ankles in one swift movement. I'm not going to let them get away so easily, at least not without a fight, but sadly, I am quickly immobilized with one guy straddling my calves and the other sat on my head.

With the damn gag in my mouth, my screams of protest are totally muffled and I suddenly feel desperate. My friends might not arrive until another half-hour, which leaves those bastards plenty of time to do what they have to do. In fact, I don't want them to arrive... I want them to be late... I don't want them to get in trouble with these jerks.

My anxiety only increases when someone suddenly parts my buttocks and spits twice before at least two fingers are shoved inside my ass, making me scream in pain.

Please, God, help me!! You can't let this happen!!

"If our information is correct, you like dicks up your ass, you nasty fag. How about two dicks? That should teach you a good lesson... bring you back to your senses..." one of the men seethes with a dark chuckle.

"Eww... Never thought I'd ever slip my fingers inside another man's ass," the other one comments, and from the angle of the invasion, I can tell it's the one sitting on my head.

As if I needed a confirmation, the other one kneels up and I soon get to hear the sound of a belt being unbuckled followed by a zipper pulled down and what I assume to be the wrapping of a condom ripped open.

"Disgusting pansy... I'm gonna show you... Give me the issue of Penthouse so I get a bit of motivation, I'm not fully hard yet..." the first one grumbles.

"It's just an ass, imagine it's your girlfriend's butt..."

"Yeah, but this one doesn't have boobs..." he retorts, sitting back on my kicking legs.

As they flip through the pages of a magazine, commenting on how fuckable the chicks are, despair fills me. Who are these men? What the hell are they doing here? Their intentions are obvious now, but why me? Who sent them? How did they even find me?

Please, God, help me!!! Don't let them do this...

"Enough... I want to feel him tight."

This is a nightmare. This has to be a nightmare. God doesn't let such things happen to His children, does He?

You hear me, God? You wouldn't let me endure this, would You?

I can only be a nightmare. Soon enough, I'm going to wake up and it'll be over. I know it. I'm going to wake up from my sleep and find myself drenched in sweat in my bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. My mother will rush to my bedroom and soothe me like she used to when I was a small kid.

Yes, it can only be a nightmare. Except I'm not sure that pain is so realistic in dreams. What I feel as the man leans over and slams inside of me seems too real. It's nothing like when Josh's cock penetrated me back in June. Here, I feel like I'm being ripped and I can't help tears flooding my eyes from the throbbing pain.

Pain.

Pain is such an unpleasant sensation, which can range from mild discomfort to agony. It can be burning, throbbing, and aching. What I feel right now is not agony, but it certainly goes beyond the notions of unpleasant and discomfort.

Physical pain is the result from nerve stimulation, either in a localized area, but it can also be diffuse. It is a type of message sent through the nervous system, and right now, I do get the message. I not only get it, but I also feel it as this thing is ripping me open in a way that shouldn't be so painful.

"Fuck! He's tight!" the man growls above me as he shifts to settle between my legs, spreading them the most that my pants pooled at my ankles will allow.

Please, God, help me... How can you let them do that...?

With my hands tied, one man keeping my shoulders down and the other hovering over me as he roughly pounds into my rectum, there's nothing I can do to fight against them. Instead, I should try to relax to lessen the painful discomfort, but that's easier said than done.

His grunts are making me nauseous and now I'm scared to throw up, which would turn out dangerous with the gag in my mouth.

"Shit! Someone's coming!" one of them whisper-growls and the pounding instantly ceases, though the freaking monster is still buried inside of me.

"Ron!? Is that you up there? Why are you grunting like this?" I hear Cam say as he must be climbing up the ladder.

"Take care of him!" my assaulter murmurs to the other.

Please, God... please... Please let him not be alone... He wouldn't make it against these bastards... Don't let him get caught too... Don't let him reach the shack... Cam already has so many problems... You can't let him experience anything like this. Please... God... Don't be unfair... Sony needs him sane...

I try to warn my friend with screams, however, not only are they muffled by the gag, but my assaulter is now fully lying on me, one arm over my face to quieten the sounds even more.

"You horny fucker... You could have waited for me, RonRon..." I hear Cam joke before a loud thud echoes in the shack, followed by a weak huh.

"Good job, Bro! Tie him up in case he wakes up!"

Shit! I can only guess that the other knocked Cam out.

As the pounding resumes, horribly reviving the sting in my anus, I am vaguely aware of the sound of tape and I easily imagine that the other guy is restraining Camden. I can now only pray that the motherfucker won't abuse my friend and that Cam will remain passed out.

That would have been too much asked, I guess.

Barely a minute later, I hear the loud fuss of shuffling and Cam begins to scream and fight like a devil, I think. From all my thrashing on the floor, my front side is getting painful, but the damn blindfold slides a bit and I can eventually see what is happening.

I almost wish the blindfold hadn't moved off my eyes, though. In this instant, the anger that stems in my heart and courses through my body sweeps away all the physical pain I was enduring.

God!!! How dare you? How can you be so unfair?

A big hunk is sitting on my Camden's back and forcing him to watch what is happening to me. Being tied and gagged, and despite the struggle he's putting on, my skinny friend has no chance to win against the bastard, and the terrifying pain in his eyes has my heart sink into my chest. His gray orbs have darkened to black from wrath and even fury.

Cam is aching. Not physically. Mentally. This mix of pain, fury, frustration and fear is scary, but the worst is this irrelevant apology that his eyes are screaming. And this is killing me.

"See how your dirty fag of a friend is learning his lesson? Though he seems to be enjoying this..."

Camden lets out a painful howl as more tears spill from his eyes, and I can feel their sting on my own cheeks.

The love my friends and I share is one of the strongest that exists. It goes way beyond friendship or brotherhood. And right now, this bond is so deep that it seems like Cam and I are feeling each other's pain. I'm sure he can feel the throbbing pain in my ass just as much as I can feel the distress in his head caused by his helplessness. Yes, I can feel it in my head and it fucking hurts.

Tears are running down our faces as we stare at each other in agony. Granite screaming apologetical words to chocolate, and chocolate trying to soothe granite from a distance.

That's where mental pain comes in.

Mental pain is the result of an emotional distress. It is not supposed to hurt physically, even if your heart aches when it occurs. It has more to do with psychological responses to certain events, things you hear or see and that you don't deal well with. This is something I feel even worse than the physical pain right now. Not only from the humiliation and discomfort, but also from Camden's agonizing screams resulting from his own frustration and helplessness.

Combine both physical and emotional pains together, and I am on the verge of sinking deep into madness.

Why?

Why do I have to go through this? Why does Cam have to go through this!?

Oh... that biology lesson... the word pain coming from the Latin poena, a fine, a penalty.

Is this God's penance for my sins? Would He go that far? Is this the way He punishes His disciples for their sins?

The man restraining Camden is wearing a balaclava that only reveals his lips and peculiar green eyes. Staring at him, I promise him revenge and hell. However, in all this mess, between Cam's muffled screams of anger, my assaulter's laughter and the other man's laughter, I didn't see what was coming next.

This is a disaster...

Come on, God... What the hell are you doing? What game are you playing? Not them too...

"What the fuck..."

Mark's head has just popped in through the opening, facing Cam while I'm still at the back, and as he takes in what is happening in front of him, clearly stunned during a few seconds of hesitation, several things occur at the same time. I hear him curse in a low voice, perhaps at what he sees, but also because Joshua just pushed him up inside the shack, making him fall on the floor. As Josh appears in his turn, peeking around with wild eyes, his body tenses, but without qualms, he lunges for the man in front of him.

The pain in my ass instantly recedes as my assaulter rises to his feet and springs for Mark. In the loud confusion, my sight still blurred by tears, all I can see is that a fight has started, punches and kicks pouring down, but what I register is that the old shack is shaking on the tree. The rotten construction won't resist the weight of six men.

It seems like I can't count on God's help today, so I need to grab myself together because I won't tolerate that my friends suffer more than what they already have. The small space of the shack is fully crammed, with four men fighting and Cam desperately trying to get back on his feet, but the others keep stumbling on him. I'm afraid he will get badly hurt at some point, but I fear even more Joshua and Mark.

Seeing my assaulter reach for Mark's neck to try and strangle him achieves to pull me from my stupor and confusion. My body is so sore, I can even feel a substance leaking from my backside, but I just see red. Joshua is still trying to contain the other guy, with Cam in his steps, so I need to help Mark. Somehow, driven by my anger and the adrenaline running through my veins, I manage to spin on my back and shift around, remaining cautious to avoid slipping through the opening.

That's when the second guy escapes from Joshua and comes face to face with me.

Wincing at the pain in my hole and completely oblivious of my semi-nakedness, I fold my legs, and determined to hold the silent promise I made to the motherfucker earlier, I kick him with all my strength, hoping to break his knees. Just the beginning of my revenge...

The man is destabilized and, losing his balance, he collapses against a wall of the shack.

A wall made of rotten wood...

A huge crack...

The cabin teeters. Between the brawling moves and the large dude's weight, it was bound to happen.

The next few seconds are just chaos.

To my utter dismay, I see the man's body break through the wall and fall off, head first. Among all the screams that roar at that moment, one definitely belongs to the guy who toppled out – that's until a loud thud echoes – but there are many more shrieks and yelps of terror as the shack is about to disintegrate.

Another wall is giving way, but the most worrisome is that the floor is slowly starting to tip down. My assaulter, who was on the edge of the wall-less side also loses his balance, but he manages to catch himself, hanging in emptiness.

As various items slide off and fall, I am only grateful for Mark and Joshua's reactivity as they reach for Camden and me and prevent us from falling.

However, with the other bastard dangling from the wooden floor, the entire construction is shaking badly, threatening to completely dismantle.

Please, God, help us... Please... Save my friends from that disaster...

Published on 23 July 2019

That's it. In case you hadn't picked on the numerous hints scattered in the previous books and one-shots, you now know what happened during that traumatic birthday party. Or at least part of it.

The rest will come soon, no worries, but in advance, I'd like to apologize to anyone who might feel attacked by the title of the next chapter. That's just Aaron's logical reasoning after the unravelling of this drama.