I walked through the crowded street, blinking back the ever-present tears and holding my breath as I counted to forty. Forty steps from the store to my safe alley, a place where I could abandon the world and relax in silence. The store was so loud, and my mother knew it, but I was the oldest, and she couldn't go sometimes; that happened when you were a heartbroken, single mom struggling to feed five kids. So I pushed through the overwhelming smells and bright lights, the loud noises and oppressive atmosphere; the headache inducing buzz produced by everything and everyone in the store. My mom thought I had some kind of mental disorder, Autism or something, but I was on the fence about that. I didn't need help to do anything, and I could handle conversations as well as the next guy- so long as the other person didn't raise their voice to loud- but... when you have a safe spot to calm down after a visit to the store, well... you have to admit something isn't right at some point.

I sighed, relaxing as I turned, my eyes still closed, into the alleyway I knew was there. I took half a step back and leaned against the wall, breathing quietly and deeply. Even this close to the outer edge, the alleyway was already much quieter than the street. I glanced at a pack of cigarettes in my hand before throwing them at the other end of the alley as hard as I could; then I slowly lowered myself, crawling behind the dumpster to the other side of it. No one could see me here, and sound was muted to a barely audible buzz in the background. It was here that I let out my tears, sobbing into my arms. My knees curled up against my chest, and I sobbed, quietly, for all I was worth. I couldn't say no to some people. I just couldn't. My twin was one of those people, the jocks at school were another. It was as if anyone with a hint of testosterone made me bend my will like a twig in a storm.

I hated myself for being so easy to manipulate; I'd even paid the man. I would go without breakfast for a few weeks again, I hadn't been able to buy my cereal. No one would notice except my twin, but even he would be more worried about his brothers training schedule being interrupted than me myself. I knew why, though; and I couldn't fault him for it. Ever since he'd made a bet with the rest of the football team, he'd had to keep his word; otherwise I would be helping him recover for weeks as he healed from their "prize". I mentally cursed the bull headed jerks; they were horny teenagers and there was nothing they wouldn't do to get a sneak preview at getting off inside their future girlfriends. He had to join the team for the entire season this year, or else my brother would experience things that no straight man ever wanted to. I knew he'd been tricked into the bet, and he'd proven he was sorry, but I also knew I had to help him. He was too good for his own good; he wouldn't break his word unless there was something he'd have to do that would be so bad he couldn't keep his head up from the shame. He could handle what they wanted.

I felt my breathing ease as I repeated the words in my head, a personal mantra that chased away my fears: silent night, all is calm... silent night, all is calm...

Eventually I opened my eyes, the tears gone. I would just tell him I was too young to buy cigarettes next time; I honestly was. Like my brother, I was taller than most, 5'11" to his 6'3", and he loved that I was smaller than him; the idea that I was older by three minutes but still smaller had him collapsing from laughter when I brought it up. I felt weaker, though, and I was definitely slimmer. With my hair as soft as it was, and my figure so slim, I had been mistaken for a boyish-girl from behind before. A frontal view showed off a more masculine set of features, like my jawline, my obviously flat chest, and my eyes. People always noticed my eyes. They said that my eyes were too green, that I shouldn't have that shade of green with my golden-blonde hair. They said it wasn't fair. My brother wasn't much better. Blonde haired, with blue eyes and skin much tanner than my own, he was the definition of masculinity, and the idea that they could dominate him would drive anyone wild with desire.

I sighed, glancing up and out of my little box, tensing at the sound of hissing. An alleycat fight. I peeked out of my box, through a convenient hole near the back, and watched with careful eyes. I knew a little about how to help an injured animal, depending on the injury. What I saw confused me. A dozen or more cats surrounded a single cat, which hissed and spat as it arched its back, thoroughly trapped against the wall. But then they didn't attack. When another cat jumped from the dumpster onto my box and then the ground, I flinched, not making a sound. Then the cat became a person. My eyes widened, and I watched as the naked boy reached for the cats scruff before it launched itself at the hand, using the boy as a launching pad to escape.

I recognized the boy, one of the members of the football team, and I turned and ran, shifting to dash faster from behind the dumpster before changing back into my human body once I was out from behind the the thing. I grabbed the groceries and ran, ignoring the shouts from behind me. My head pounded and I closed my eyes as I counted my running steps. I corrected my count when I reached the curb, fixing the numbers in my head and counting as I blindly ran. They still yelled, but I blocked them out; I knew the home by heart and didn't need to see to make it there. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I turned into my drive way as they closed in. I reached the door to my house and pounded once before one of the other team members pulled me away from the door and flipped me around. My breathing caught and I stared with fear at the boy, barely taller than me, but more imposing by a long shot. He stared at me me with cruel eyes, then glanced at the door before he reached a decision.

He kissed me.

I screamed into his mouth, trying to claw his hands away. His touch felt oppressive and wrong, it made me feel like I was being touched by a thousand, muddy, grasping hands. The tears began anew, my sobs muffled by his mouth. Then the door opened and suddenly the boy went stumbling as my brother socked him in the jaw. He had barely even hesitated. I threw myself inside sobbing as I set the groceries on the table and dashed downstairs to our room. I slammed it shut and collapsed on my bed, hiding my sorrow in pillows and sheets. The door opened almost ten minutes later, and my brother walked in, a bloody nose and the beginnings of a few bruises on his jaw and around his eyes the evidence of what had happened after my hurried flight from the scene. He sat on the bed next to my frozen form, sighing as he popped his neck. "I told him the deal is off. Screw what they want, they lost any hold on my word when he did... that... to you." I gave a muffled groan, pulling my arms under and across my chest in an instinctive bid for security.

He sighed, resting a hand on my leg. It was a gesture he'd done a thousand times, a way to show he was sincere in what he was about to say, but it was too soon, the emotions too raw. I jolted away, rolling to my side and curling up as I began to hyperventilate, my pupils shrinking to slits. I would've shifted, but I'd have been more vulnerable in that form. He looked at me in hurt surprise, and I shivered, calming slightly. "I'm sorry, George... I just..." I closed my eyes, shivering. Everything had been too overwhelming, and I still could feel him grabbing me, his rough dry lips scraping against mine as his tongue tried to bash its way through and into my mouth. His hands had been like slime covered sandpaper, feeling disgusting as they roughly scraped against my arms. I wanted to scream, but it was already over. I made myself crawl over to George and hug him, his arms feeling close to oppressive, but still safer than nothing; it didn't hurt to let him hold me.

We were still hugging when mom came home an hour later and checked on us. At the sight of George covered in bruises and my tears stained face, she grew deeply concerned. "WHAT HAPPENED?!?" It was simple to explain it to her, and she walked silently up the stairs, giving me the odd sense of cold one gets when they realize someone is about to be murdered. I heard some shouting a few hours later, I ignored it until someone clamped their way down the stairs to me. The door flew open and I slowly turned to glance at it, wincing as my neck popped. I'd been sitting and staring at a spot on the wall for a while now, and I was stiff from the lack of movement. If he had told me not to fight him... I would've done as he'd said. I knew I would've. He could've made me do anything, and I wouldn't have been able to stop him. My father stood in the doorway, hands shaking and a furious look on his face. I shivered and curled up, ready to hear yet another speech on sticking up for myself, not being a push over.

Instead I took a sharp breath as he slowly pulled me into a hug. His hands were almost calm, and his fury was almost nonexistent. I whimpered at his touch, feeling that same feeling of filth as when the kiss had happened. He pulled away, carefully avoiding any further contact. "How'd it happen? I... He forced you, I can see that much. How?" I blinked in confusion before I looked down and realized some of the stinging I felt from my arms wasn't just memory. There were red welt-like marks from where his nails had scratched me while he'd tried to grab me. That and one of my buttons was missing from how roughly he'd grabbed me. I stared at it, my eyes tearing up. "I saw him in an alley... I saw something I shouldn't of, I don't know what, but he chased me. I got home and tried to get inside but... he grabbed me and..." I was whispering now, my voice hoarse and rough, hating myself for being so affected by what amounted to a kiss. It wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be, as bad as my reactions were saying it was; but... the feelings I'd gotten-the terror of the moment, the horrifying idea that I had no control and he was going to do whatever he wanted to me... I shuddered again.

He nodded, and confused understanding entered his eyes. "You honestly tried, did'nt you? You honestly couldn't stop him..." somehow his false understanding was worse than his complete ignorance, and I looked away in shame, anger, and dissatisfaction. I had thought him figuring out that little tidbit of info would be pleasant. Instead, I felt worse; he was close to being right, but too far off for it to matter. He left, realizing I wouldn't respond after a few minutes of questions. I tried to go to sleep, even though it was still mid-afternoon. I didn't care, I was just exhausted. So I lay in bed, still fully dressed, and closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from thinking. It didn't work, obviously, and I kept slipping back to the elephant in the room; I couldn't stay here. My parents almost knew what my problem was, my brother definitely knew, but... I could handle that. No, the problem wasn't family; there was one other person who'd come close enough to figuring it out today.

I couldn't stay with him in the same school as me; not while feeling safe. So I got up and thought. My parents wouldn't let me leave school and be homeschooled; I'd survived just fine until today, and getting the kid kicked out of school wouldn't do anything- he'd just tell his friends and even more people would harass me. This was a problem that would spread quickly and noticeably, and the only way out was if I left; but my family couldn't afford to just up and move. The kids would lose their friends, George would lose football and his scholarship, my parents would lose their jobs... it just wasn't worth the hassle of moving. The only real option was to leave myself, and hope my family wasn't too hurt. I hesitated though; surely I could wait a day just to see if things were really as bad as I was afraid they were. I sighed, my resolve firming. I'd stay a day and if things really were as bad as I thought they were, I'd leave; otherwise, I'd stay and deal with the problems.

That thought in mind, I packed a spare backpack with everything I'd need- water bottles, spare clothes, money, my ID, a few pocket knives, some rope- and hid the small one-man tent we had, along with my backpack of necessities, in the backyard. There was one spot I could hide when I was a cat that no one else could reach, and it was my safe spot; no one else knew about it. My escape plans certain, and my determination set, I went to lay on my bed and hope for sleep. I should've run away that night and saved myself the trouble of the nightmare the next day would bring.

_________________________________(A/N) Hey Guys! This story is gonna be more about how one comes to terms with their problems and how Geoffrey is forced to rely on people who can't help but hurt him. If you want to see more of this, I'll make it a book; otherwise it'll stay here. It's up to you guys, but I'm kind of excited to write his story. Well, till you've decided!

Till next time, Sept-Mates!

Your Poet and Scribe,
~ShadeFinder<(0^0)>