Denial
Day 36
For a few minutes, Peter was just standing there, unmoving. Fresh tears were gathering in his eyes and eventually, the boy dropped down onto the ground, sobbing loudly, holding onto his destroyed bike for support. The pavement was cold and wet, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He’d rather sit here forever and die, just so he wouldn’t have to think or feel anything anymore. What had he done wrong? He had just wanted to have a friend, someone who liked him for who he was and didn’t hate or hurt him for once… had that been too much to ask? Skip had always acted so caring towards him, how could he have changed so drastically over the course of a few days? But had he, really? Skip’s words were still ringing in his ears, mocking him in an endless loop of torment.
“You’re so goddamn cute” – “Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” – “Ever since I’ve seen you in that fucking library” – “So tempting, I couldn’t resist” - “For weeks I’ve been thinking about nothing else than what‘s about to happen.”
Peter wasn’t stupid. He might not be able to understand a lot of things that had went down today, but there was one thing he was quite certain of: Skip had planned to do all these horrible things from the beginning and – the boy sobbed brokenly – probably never really wanted to be his friend. Unless Skip had been telling the truth and all good friends experimented with each other like that? If that was the case, had Peter acted like an unthankful brat today?
He didn’t know how long he had already been crouching on the floor when his buzzing phone made him jump, jolting him out of his state of shock and making him painfully aware of the ruthless icy temperatures turning his checked breaths into cold smoke. His body was shivering worse than ever, both from cold and fear, and it took him a while to fetch his phone out of the tight pocket. When he saw that the caller was Aunt May, Peter desperately tried to swallow down a new stream of tears.
He pressed the green button, his teeth chattering. “H-hello?”
“Why aren’t you home yet?” May sounded reproachful. “It’s already 6:15, we have ringed the landline two times already. We had an agreement, Pete!”
The boy didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent, breathing heavily. It had to be loud, because May asked him if he was alright.
An then, Peter was not able to keep himself together anymore. “M-may,” he sobbed brokenly, not knowing what he could possibly tell her. He heard May drew a sharp breath and when she spoke, she sounded fearful. “Baby, what’s going on? Are you okay, where… where are you?”
“I’m… I’m…,” Peter stuttered, remembering Skip’s threat, “I had an accident… my… my bike is broken.”
“Good heavens, are you hurt? Can you walk? Isn’t there anybody you can ask for help?” May’s voice was shrill and he could hear her whispering something to Uncle Ben.
“I don’t know, w-wait”, Peter cried, forced himself to get up and stumbled back to the street, dragging the useless bike along with him. Gladly, he spotted a street sign a few yards away. “C-corona Avenue and Broadway…At W-walgreens.”
“Are you hurt?”, his aunt asked again and Peter lied. “N-no. B-but my bike…” He couldn’t speak on and sobbed instead. They would be so mad at him… it had cost a fortune, at least by their standards.
“Listen, honey… get inside Walgreens and wait for us, we’re leaving right now. We’ll get you, okay?”
“N-no,” Peter said hastily, because he didn’t know how he would possibly be able to face them… not after what had happened with Skip and what he had told him about being a nuisance to Ben and May.
“Of course, what do you think… we won’t let you walk home in this weather for an hour. We’ll be here in fifteen to twenty minutes, please wait inside.”
She hung up and Peter put the phone back in his pocket, leaning the broken bike against the shop’s wall before entering. Even though it was a lot warmer than outside, he was still shivering after a few minutes.
“Can I help you?” one of the sales assistants asked him after a while, eyeing him warily. Peter looked bashfully at the ground and hoped that the young man wouldn’t stare at him like that. Although, he had to appear fishy, loitering between the aisles like that without buying anything, but the sheer thought of food almost made him throw up.
“Is everything alright?” the man asked, his gaze fixed on Peter’s cheek worryingly, and he stepped forward, but the boy shrank back, nodding his head fearfully. “Y-yes, I…I’m waiting for… m-my uncle and my a-aunt.”
The sales assistant raised his eyebrows suspiciously and snorted. “Are you sure, son? Did they… did they beat or your something?”
Peter tugged at the collar of his jacket, trying to hide his face as much as possible. Did he have a bruise on his face? The part where Skip had hit and grabbed him had been aching for a while, especially his left cheek.
“N-no,” Peter lied anxiously but his actions only seemed to confirm the young man’s suspicions. “Maybe I should call the police,” he threatened and the boy whined. “N-no, please… I, I fell off m-my bike, it was an accident.”
The man didn’t seem to believe him, but didn’t press Peter on.
“Fine, you can wait here for your family, but you better not steal anything or you’ll be in big trouble, alright? You can take a look into our magazines” Peter nodded and, after hesitating for a few moments, did go over to the magazine rack. His eyes examined the different cover pages and eventually, he unenthusiastically grasped the new ScienceWeekly. Normally, he binge-read that magazine whenever he managed to get his fingers on it, but today, he couldn’t concentrate, staring at one short paragraph for over a minute without understanding anything about it. Instead, he kept hearing Skip’s voice, mocking and insulting him.
“Pete?”
The boy gave a start when, all of a sudden, he heard May’s voice behind him and he quickly stuffed the magazine back into the stack before turning around with a bowed head. “Oh baby, what did you do?” she asked tenderly and wanted to wrap his arms around him, but she had barely touched him when Peter was already wrenching himself from her soft grip.
Alarmed, May eyed her nephew up more closely, and when she saw his face, she threw her hands up in horror. His lip was bloody and the edge of Peter’s left eye was red and swollen, just like his cheek. What worried her the most, though, were round, weird-looking bruises on his jawbone, shaped vaguely like fingerprints.
“What… what happened?” May gasped, appalled, and when a single drop escaped Peter’s tear-filled eyes she could feel her own eyes getting wet too. Her nephew wasn’t looking at her; instead his head and gaze were lowered.
“I fell of my bike.” His voice was raspy from crying so much. “I a-already told y-you.”
Just when May wanted to respond, the sales assistant appeared next to her out of thin air, eyeing her warily. “Looks more like a blow to me,” he alluded subtly and May looked back and forth between the young lad and her nephew. What was the man insinuating? Sadly, he did have a point.
May kneeled down in front of Peter. “Are you… are you sure you fell?” Even though she was right in front of him, the boy turned slightly to the left to avoid having to look at her. When he didn’t respond, she tried again, even more attentively as before. “You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”
Once again, Peter shook his head. “I fell,” he insisted and May sighed. Maybe he didn’t want to talk in front of the sales assistant but… he had been with Skip, what could have possibly happened, other than getting into an accident? Unless…maybe he had encountered some of his schoolmates? May’s memory of the beating he had once received was still fresh; Ben had been so furious that he had screamed at the headmaster for an hour the next day. There was also the possibility that Peter could have been mugged, but she didn’t dare to even think about that or she’d be panicking.
“Okay, fine, we can talk when we’re home…let’s go, Ben is waiting in the car,” she said and gave the sales assistant a careful look. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him… I apologize for any inconveniences.”
The young man only shrugged his shoulders, obviously glad that the boy it wasn’t his responsibility anymore.
When May and Peter exited the shop, her gaze fell upon the bike propped against the wall. “Is that…?” she asked, aghast at the sight of the twisted handlebar, the broken lights, the dangling bike chain and the bent front wheel. Peter, who had scuffed along behind her with sagging shoulders, slowly nodded. “Yes,” he croaked and didn’t miss the groan coming from his aunt’s throat. The woman even felt a little angry for a second; the bike hadn’t exactly been cheap, why couldn’t Peter be more attentive every now and then? He had always had a habit of being clumsy but… what if he really had been attacked and it hadn’t been his fault? The bike really was the least of their problems at the moment… She snatched the bike and carried it over the car, which was parked in the “no standing area”, hazard lights flashing.
Peter followed her closely, thus being able to hear Ben moaning in annoyance when he got out of the car to open the trunk door and caught sight of the destroyed bike. “How did this happen?” he snapped at his nephew, who winced immediately, almost expecting a blow at this point even though he had never been hit by Ben or May ever before.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” he whispered and only then Ben noticed the bruised on his face. He exchanged a hasty glance with May, who shook her head indistinguishably, before hoisting the bike into the barely big enough trunk.
Afterwards, the three Parkers got inside the car and drove home silently. Peter was gazing out the window blankly and every now and then May glanced at him in the rearview mirror, noticing more tears running down his cheeks. She could sense that something was deeply wrong, but she didn’t want to hassle the boy.
As soon as the car came to a stop in the driveway, Peter got out and ran up to the front door. He had vanished inside before Ben and May had even retrieved the bike from the trunk. “What…?” Ben asked, baffled, while May shrugged her shoulders and pointed at the bike. „Can you fix it?“
Ben dragged the bicycle over to the nearest street lamp to get a better look. “No idea,” he mumbled and snorted. “What the fuck did he do with it? Doesn’t look like an ordinary accident to me.”
May told him about her concerns and immediately, Ben was seething with anger. “You… you think someone mugged him?”
“I don’t know,” his wife said, distraught, “but he doesn’t really like he did last time… I mean, it’s not the first time he was in a bike accident, but… I don’t know, we have to talk to him. Maybe it’s more likely that he encountered some of his schoolmates who have already… you know.”
“Beaten him up before, you mean?” Ben snorted, his eyes glowing dangerously. May just shrugged her shoulders and together, they went inside. They arched their eyebrows when they heard showering noises coming from upstairs. “Peter?” May shouted loudly, but there was no response, so the grown-ups went into the living room to wait until their nephew was finished.
Peter didn’t know how long he had been showering already, rinsing his mouth and scrubbing his skin with body wash over and over again, hoping to wash as much ‘Skip’ off him as possible. However, even though his skin was already red and stinging, he was still feeling dirty, and after a few more scrubs he gave up, plummeting to the shower tub in tears. He bent his legs, hugged them with his arms, and let his head rest on his knees, praying to his parents and Thor to let him vaporize in the hot shower steam. He sat there, until a loud knock on the door startled him.
“Peter?” May’s shrill voice rang through the door, “Everything okay?”
The boy tediously struggled to his feed in the slippery shower tub and turned off the faucet. “Yes!” he yelled as loudly as possible but it still bore more resemblance to a pathetic raw croak. Only now the boy realized how very hot he was, however, his body was still shaking when he stepped out of the tub and started to forcefully dry himself with a towel.
“Can I come in? You’ve been in there for thirty minutes,” May said, and Peter froze. “N-no, I… I’m not d-dressed yet,” he answered in a high-pitched voice. “Alright but… please come downstairs then, will you?”
“Mhm,” Peter squeezed out through chattering teeth, before daring to look into the mirror for the first time since he had brushed his teeth in the morning. He wheezed when he saw the bruises on his face, jaw and neck. Touching them made him flinch in pain, and with a shudder, he remembered Skip slapping, hitting and choking him. After a few seconds of staring at his miserable reflection, the image suddenly changed, resembling the photo from the magazine where the man had put his penis into the woman’s mouth. Though, instead of the girl’s face, he saw his own.
Peter’s knees gave away and he fell down onto the floor, face buried in his hands once more. What should he do about all this? His gut instinct told him that Skip had done him wrong, that it had been cruel, maybe even tabooed, and that he should tell Uncle Ben and Aunt May about it. Though, a wicked voice inside his head pointed out that he hadn’t really done anything to stop Skip, he hadn’t even tried to fight him at first, had he? Had it been his own fault? Likewise, there was still a part of him that considered it possible that Skip had told him the truth about friends doing corporal experiments with each other; otherwise there wouldn’t be pictures of similar things in magazines, right?
In one way or another, Peter was ferociously ashamed of what had happened and even though his whole body hurt from scrubbing his skin in the hot water for so long, he could still feel, taste and even smell Skip on him.
Just in time, he managed to crawl over to the toilet before he retched for the fourth (or fifth?) time that evening, his body unable to cough up anything else than gastric juice at this point.
After he had finished, he looked down onto the tiles. When he had run up into the bathroom earlier, he had thrown his clothes to the floor carelessly, merely focused on getting into the cleansing hot water, but now he noticed two small, reddish-turning-into-brown-colored stains on his boxers. There were barely visible considering the imprinted Star Wars themed pattern, and for a moment Peter bewilderedly thought he might have pooped his pants a little bit, before realizing that it was drying blood. It made sense, given his hole was still burning painfully. However, the boy would have never thought it possible that Skip had actually made him bleed down there by thrusting his fingers inside his…
Another sob was ripped from his lips and he quickly grabbed the boxers, hurried over to the sink and tried to wash the stains away with a lot of hot water and soap. After a while they became brighter but didn’t fade away completely, and Peter had to give up. If May didn’t take a close look, she wouldn’t notice it due to the pattern, and so the boy stuffed the pants deep down into the dirty clothes basket, dropping his jeans and shirt on top of the rest of the pile. He’d rather throw it all away, but there was no way his aunt wouldn’t notice eventually.
Peter then grabbed the towel, wrapped it around his body, and stumbled inside his room, changed into his pajamas, and let himself drop onto the mattress, pulling the blankets up until his chin.
At 7:20 pm Ben glanced at the living room clock impatiently. “Where on earth is he?” he asked May, who frowned. “I’ll look after him again,” the woman said and went upstairs. Since the bathroom was empty, she entered Peter’s room after a short knock. “I told you-”
She broke off mid-sentence when she noticed all lights had been put out. “Pete?”
A squeak came from the bed and when she made out her nephew’s silhouettes under the thick blanket, May felt more confused and worried than ever. It was so early and Peter hadn’t even eaten yet, so she walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Aren’t you feeling well, baby?”
Peter’s voice was badly muffled when he replied something that sounded vaguely like ‘I’m fine’, though he instantly contradicted his own statement by moving further away from May and pulling the blanket up even further until she could barely make out the wet, curly back of his head.
“Are you SURE you aren’t hurt?” May inquired, worrying he might in fact have injuries somewhere on his body they hadn’t seen or noticed due to his jacket and clothes.
“I’m just tired,” Peter mumbled, sounding so exhausted that May thought he might fall asleep any second. The shivering, the hot shower, the thick blanket, the tiredness… it let May jump to the easy conclusion that Peter might have a fever.
“How long have you been outside before I called?”
“Dunno,” was the weak response, “please just let me sleep.”
“Maybe it’ll be better if we got you to the hospital,” May said with a long sigh, “We want to make sure you’re not hurt or-“
“No!”, the boy interrupted her somewhat panicky, “please, I just… I just want to sleep, please.”
May knew that their baby boy hated hospitals and doctors so she could understand his displeasure of the thought of having to go there, especially at this time of day.
“I’ll talk to your uncle about it, okay? I’ll also bring you a cup of tea, you should at least drink that.”
The woman went back downstairs to discuss the situation with her husband. They both felt awful, but after Ben had lost his job, they had had to reduce their health insurance drastically. In truth, neither of them wanted to go to the hospital for a simple cold, so they decided to measure Pete’s temperature first to see if it was bad. Thankfully, it wasn’t, for now the boy only had a light fever at about 100 degrees. When May took the thermometer back from Peter’s hand, she noticed a bruise on his wrist. The woman grabbed his hand, and when he flinched, she ascribed it to pain.
“Does that hurt?” she asked, moving his wrist back and forth before circling it.
“A… a little”, Peter hissed with clenched teeth, “I uh… it happened when I tried to break my fall.” He jerked his hand away roughly.
“Hm…I hope you didn’t sprain it… we gotta keep an eye on it.” She wished him goodnight and reminded him to drink his tea and call them if he needed anything.
On her way downstairs, she made a small detour into the bathroom.
“Pete has a slight fever but for now, it’s nothing too bad,” May told Ben when she was back in the living room. His wrist might be sprained lightly and it’s a little bruised, I don’t know… He says it’s from him trying to break the fall, but there are no road burns… I also checked his jeans, it’s neither ripped, nor bloody. Did you check his jacket?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, nothing. Not even dirt. Guess he didn’t really fall, unless he only fell on his face, which I hardly doubt.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s just… something is off, he left his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, which he had stuffed into the dirty laundry basket.”
“His specs case and wallet were in the inside pockets of his jacket, so at least that rules out him getting mugged.”
“So… you think someone actually beat him up and destroyed his bike?”
“I’m not sure… he doesn’t look as bad as that one time he came back from school, but it’s still possible. I swear, if I ever get my hands on those lousy jackasses…” Ben drew a dangerous-looking gesture into the air and May scolded him, even though she was as furious as he was about anyone hurting their baby boy.
Day 37
Peter’s night had been awful, torturing him with numerous nightmares, leading to him waking up with a start more than once, drenched in sweat. It had taken him a few minutes each time to calm down and remember that he was in his bed and – at least for now - safe from Skip. However, not only was he still feeling Skip’s fingers on his skin everywhere, his voice was also still inside his head, taunting him endlessly.
Uncle Ben paid him a visit later in the morning, balancing a tray with toast and fresh tea. Since Peter was facing him, the man could clearly see the bruises on his face.
“How are you feeling?” he asked his nephew and reached out to put his hand on Peter’s forehead, but the boy flinched, shooting him a quick, somewhat fearful glance, and rolled over to the other side, turning his back on his uncle. It was frustrating. There was something deeply wrong with Peter and he obviously didn’t think he could trust them, which irritated and disappointed Ben tremendously. He just hoped that Peter would speak to them as soon as he felt fetter, because the state of not knowing was had happened was driving him crazy. At least, the fever had dropped to 99.5 degrees.
“Drink your tea, please,” Ben said when he got up to leave; it hadn’t slipped his attention that the cup from yesterday had remained untouched. “It wouldn’t hurt to eat some of that toast either. The fever isn’t that bad, I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self again soon enough. Call us if you need anything.”
A few tears escaped over Peter’s lash line and started running down his cheeks as soon as Uncle Ben closed the door behind him. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he would never be back to his old self again. How could he, after everything that had happened? Until yesterday he would have loved to spend any free moment with Skip, but now, he never wanted to see the other boy ever again. In fact, he never wanted to have any friend ever again; after all, what if they wanted to do the same things to him that Skip had done?
The boy rolled over to the other side again and came face to face with the toast and tea on his nightstand. He couldn’t eat, he felt sick. Sick and… disgusting, besmirched, and Peter wished he could take another shower, but he felt too weak to get up. Also, his body was still aching all over, especially his butt and his thighs. Carefully, Peter slid the fabric of the pajama shorts up a tad to take a closer look, and his stomach turned when he spotted large bruises, the color a mixture of yellow, green and blue. When flashbacks of Skip’s crushing weight pinning him down flashed through him, he shuddered and buried his face deep into the pillow to muffle his cries.
In the afternoon, it was once again his aunt who begged him to drink a cup of tea. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, but again, Peter ignored her, not even turning around to look at her.
His feigned unresponsiveness both scared and irritated his guardians incredibly, considering the fever was so low at this point it shouldn’t weaken him so much, let alone prevent him from speaking or responding. When the woman gently touched his head to stroke his hair, her nephew once again flinched and tensed visibly. “We’re so worried, baby… we know something is wrong but if you lock us out, we can’t help you.”
As soon as May heard a quiet sniffle, she pulled back, alarmed. She leaned over to see him better, and her heart sank when she saw that Peter’s face was distorted and red from, apparently, trying to hold back heavy sobs. She felt so helpless about the whole situation that tears welled up in her own eyes. “Petey, please… did…did somebody hurt you?”
Even though he still wept bitterly, he also vigorously shook his head. She didn’t believe him but also didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable “Then please, tell me what is going on!”
Peter’s eyes widened, but he otherwise didn’t react in any way, basically telling her everything she needed to know.
As soon as May had left, he turned over and slowly forced himself into an upright position, feeling dizzy almost immediately. They were right, he really needed to drink and he couldn’t let them take him to the hospital or they’d have to sell the house or they’d find out about the bruises he had, as of yet, managed to hide from them. The tea was too hot still, but even the water burned slightly in his throat whenever he swallowed.
All of a sudden, he thought he felt and tasted Skip’s penis and the white substance in his mouth. Panic engulfed him when he realized he couldn’t breathe anymore and he desperately tried to pump air into his lungs by breathing faster, making it even worse. Dread crawled through his veins, spreading like ice, and when he put the glass of water back on his nightstand, his hands were shaking so badly he almost missing it. The boy was close to hyperventilating now and he knew, he had to calm down if he didn’t want to collapse. He had had panic attacks before, and even though it had been years, he gladly still remembered what his therapist had taught him.
Grounding had always helped him…Peter had to think of five things he could see (glass of water, cup of tea, night stand, lamp, pillow), four things he could touch (glass of water, cup of tea, night stand, lamp), three things he could hear (music, birds, … what else? … voices!), two things he could smell (May’s burnt cookies, flowers) and one thing he could taste (Skip’s pe-… no, please, don’t let me think about it again… please, PLEASE, think of something else, anything!… TEA! Yes, tea, that’s something he could taste!).
Peter knew he had failed when his breaths still came in heavy sobs, and so he tried again. It wasn’t easy, since trying not to think about something made him think about it all the more, but after the third time of going through the process, he finally managed to calm down and focus enough to get to the Breathing techniques. Exhale, breathe in for four seconds and hold the breath for seven seconds. Exhale forcefully through the mouth for eight seconds. Repeat.
After a few iterations Peter wiped the sweat off his forehead, sighing in relief. Although his body was still shivering slightly (whether from the fever or constant anxiety, he didn’t know), he had overcome the most dangerous part, at least for now. He glared daggers at that stupid glass of water, knowing that he had to try it again if he didn’t want to die of thirst or risk having a panic attack for the rest of his life whenever he was drinking. Also, Peter wanted to stop feeling so dizzy, so he pulled himself together and took his time drinking not only the water, but also the cup of tea.
Ben and May were pleased when they found glass and cup empty half an hour later. Peter still n neither talked, nor genuinely looked at them, but they wanted to give him time. After he had been beaten up last year, he had also been rather quiet and jumpy for a few days, even though it probably hadn’t been as bad as it was now.
Day 38
Even though the fever was gone in the morning, Peter still felt sick, lost and empty inside. Nothing seemed appealing to him, not his books, comics, computer, Lego sets, nothing. When May chased him out of the bed to change the sweat-soaked sheets, he sat down on the windowsill, watching the neighbor’s daughters building a snowman without actually seeing them. The only things he did see were Skip’s cold, dark eyes and his penis twitching and leaking in front of his face.
Aunt May eventually persuaded him to join them for lunch, and Ben smiled when Peter scuffed into the dining room, sat down on the table and mumbled a faint “Hello”.
“How are you feeling?” Ben asked, beaming encouragingly.
“Dunno. B-better”, the boy replied, voice rough from disuse, staring intently at a crack in the table. Peter hated himself for still trembling a bit, but Ben seemed pleased nonetheless. “Good, that’s… good. Are you hungry?”
Peter shrugged, wishing he would have stayed in his room. When May served him chicken, rice and vegetables, he blankly stared at it for a while, feeling nauseated already. He picked at his food and forced himself to take at least a few bites, chewing rather listlessly. When he put fork and knife down, his plate was still more than half-full, but Ben and May seemed somewhat satisfied.
After the two adults were done, Peter wanted to get up straightaway, but Ben motioned him to stay seated. May shot a warning glance at her husband, but didn’t intervene.
“Pete… listen… your aunt and I… we don’t think you’ve been telling us the truth, neither your bruises, nor the damages to your bike fit your story.”
Peter’s heart raced at once, not daring to look either one of them in the eye, and tried to concentrate on breathing as steadily and calmly as possible.
Ben ignored the looming panic that was visibly starting to surge through his nephew, focusing on the goal he had set himself; getting a confession. “We think someone beat you,“ he stated straightforward.
Peter winced, feeling like his uncle had slapped him in the face, and bit down on his lip, although unable to suppress a whimper.
May leaned forward and, slowly, took Peter’s right hand in her own. The boy was still shaking, but didn’t jerk it away, drawing a sigh of relief from May’s lips. “We’re sorry, baby, but we need to know who did this to you,” she said, her voice breaking mid-sentence. Peter glanced at her and when he saw that she was crying, guilt spread through his body.
“Was it the same bunch like last time? Some guys from your school? Did you encounter them on your way home?” Ben asked impatiently, leaning forward too.
Peter tried to stay calm, thinking intensely. He could deny everything, but then again, Ben just might have provided him with an excuse. The grown-up tensed when Peter took a deep breath, tears rolling down his cheeks steadily. “N-no, “he finally said, “I… I don’t k-know who… who they were.”
Ben and May frowned. “You don’t? Are we supposed to believe that?” his uncle snorted irritated, earning himself a glare from his wife.
Peter nodded his head frantically. “Yeah, I…I really d-didn’t. They were… o-older, t-teenagers… it w-was three of t-them. T-they… they h-hauled me off the bike and…m-made fun of me. P-please, I… I didn’t know them, I h-hardly even s-saw them, it was d-dark and… t-they had s-scarves and caps… I was… I was s-scared, I d-didn’t even scream for help.” He was crying more heavily know, voice barely breaking through his sobs.
May and Ben didn’t know if they believed him, but what choice did they have? Even if it had indeed been kids from his school who had hurt him, they couldn’t prove it or force him to rat them out. Last time they hadn’t found out either, so maybe he was telling the truth or he could have easily said that he wouldn’t tell them any names.
“It’s fine, honey… Thank you for telling us,” May eventually said and gave Peter’s hand a careful squeeze. “If there’s anything else you remember or want to tell us, we are here for you, always. You know that, right?”
Peter forced himself to nod courteously, although he hadn’t forgotten what Skip had told him. He was a nuisance, a burden and they were just too nice to tell him. Utter relief rushed through him when they told him he could go back upstairs now and he shot up from his seat immediately.
Later at dinner, Peter ate as little as before, but at least Ben and May didn’t question him about what had happened again. When Ben asked him if he felt fit enough to go to school tomorrow, Peter shrugged his shoulders.
“Guess so,“ he muttered, unsure whether he’d rather stay at home, with nothing to distract him from his inner demons, or go to school where he had to face all those people who hated him. However, at least nobody would really want to talk to him there…
When Ben started to clear the table, the child got up and wished them a good night. His foot was on the first step, when May hurried after him. “Wait a second,” she yelled and thrust something in his hand. “I saved your phone from taking a bath in the washing machine”, she winked but then frowned when Peter stared at the phone like it was a bomb. “Something wrong?”
“N-no,“ he quickly pressed out and gulped. He had completely forgotten about his phone. “T-thanks.” The boy fake-smiled at his aunt before struggling to climb the stairs with wobbly legs. As soon as he was inside his room, he tried to lit the screen, but found that it had run out of battery. Trembling, Peter quickly plugged it in and waited for it to boot. The anxiousness was killing him, and his stomach twisted painfully when he discovered he had four unread messages.
Friday, 8:12 pm: “Hey Einstein, hope u got home alright? ;) It was a lovely evening, can’t wait to see u again soon. Don’t forget our agreement!”
Saturday, 09:31 am: “Txt me back asap.”
Sunday, 3:56 pm: “Why tf r u ignoring me??”
Sunday, 6:07 pm: “I s2g u better not have told some fucking shit about me””!”
Peter’s breath escaped him in heavy sobs and his phone almost slid out of his hands when he tried to calm down. The last thing he wanted to do was text him back, but Skip knew where he lived and where he went to school and if he ignored him… The boy whimpered and closed his eyes fearfully. This time it took him even longer to calm down from the panic taking over his mind and body, but eventually he coerced himself to send a short reply, although it took him a few minutes until his trembling fingers had typed a somewhat readable text.
“Sorry I was sivk and my bsttery was dead.”
When he returned from brushing his teeth and sat down on the bed, he noticed he had gotten another message. “Well I told u it was cold and that u better hurry up ;) Anyways, I want u to come over asap, how about Wednesday?”
Peter rolled onto his stomach, pressed his face into the pillow and screamed loudly, taking advantage of the fabric muffling his voice so nobody else would hear. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to, no, he couldn’t go through this ever again but how could he explain it to Ben and May and, especially, avoid Skip’s vengeance if he found out? Maybe, if he put a good face on the matter, Skip would ultimately give up… It was Peter’s only glimmer of hope, so he texted him back again.
“Dunno, still sick.”
Skip’s next reply made him fall asleep bawling his eyes out. “Ok but u better get well soon, can’t wait to c u.”
Days 39 - 51
Peter would never know how he survived the first days of school after Skip’s experiment. He hardly paid attention in class and didn’t talk to anyone. Since he never drew attention to himself anyways, no one really noticed. No one except Mrs. Hammers, who frowned when she had to ask the same question three times until Peter finally provided her with a sluggish answer, eyes fixed on the ground while he spoke. Even at home, the boy still felt absolutely whacked and hardly spoke or ate, avoiding his aunt and uncle as much as he could, claiming he had to do a lot of homework. His nights were short, still interrupted by horrible nightmares, and they provided him with dark rings under his eyes, making his complexion seem even paler than usually.
On Wednesday, Skip sent him another message, sounding even more impatient now. “U still sick?? Saturday, 2 pm, my place, get well until then.”
This time, Peter didn’t know what to answer. He was too afraid that Skip would find out he was lying, but what other choice did he have?
“Yeah still sick I’ll text you Friday.”
Problem was, Aunt May made it even worse.
On Friday during dinner, she asked him if he wanted to invite Skip for Sunday lunch. “I thought we could start our own little tradition,” she smiled, not noticing that Peter was shaking almost as badly as a week ago, “Hopefully his mother is okay with us kidnapping him every Sunday.” May laughed but broke off when she finally looked up and noticed that her nephew stared blankly ahead, seemingly petrified. She exchanged a quick, concerned glance with Ben, who just shrugged his shoulders. Peter had always had tremendous social anxiety and it probably worsened after getting beat up again. They still hoped that he would at least confine in Skip about what had happened and not chase his only friend away by avoiding him.
“Sweetheart?” May finally asked, giving Peter a start.
“I uh… I… I’m gonna a-ask him,” he mumbled under his breath, still not looking at anybody.
Later, when he had calmed down enough, Peter grabbed his phone, not to text Skip, but to look something up on Google. First, he was searching for things like “Is it normal for boys to kiss each other”, but when he saw the results, he knew it had been the wrong question to ask. He wasn’t homophobic, he just wanted to know if it was normal for two none gay boys (or was Skip gay? He probably was…) to kiss, or not. He tried “He touched me but I didn’t like it” but all that came up then, were discussions about whether you were into your date if you didn’t ‘feel’ anything or reports about sexual harassment. Although Peter had heard the term before, he had never really thought about what it meant. Unfortunately, most search results were blocked by the firewall’s sensitive child safety settings Ben had installed years ago, locking him out of any websites which excessively featured the words “sex”, “penis”, “vagina” and so on.
Therefore, Peter felt he didn’t have any other choice than to start a new off-topic threat in the Star Wars discussion board May and Ben had let him register a few months ago. Normally he wasn’t allowed to browse it on his phone or post without them knowing, but he didn’t know any other way.
[p.skywarker01] “If my friend kissed and touched me and made me touch him too, even though I didn’t want any of it, is this normal behavior between friends? My firewall might throw me out if you use s.e…u.a.l. words so please don’t use those, thanks.”
The forum was pretty popular, so, after 10 minutes, there were already two replies.
[jarjarsucks22] “No, it’s not normal and it’s not okay either if you told him you didn’t want it. That’s abuse, actually. Look it up in the Penal Code.”
[HolyDeathStar] “Kid, I don’t know how you define ‘touching’ since it says on your profile that you’re only 14, but you’re too young to touch or kiss anybody anywhere. Play with your dolls, action figures or whatever, will you? JMO.
Since users had to be at least fourteen years old to create an account on the discussion board, Peter had had to lie about his birth year, making him wonder what HolyDeathStar would say if he knew he was even younger than fourteen. Nonetheless the boy tried not to freak out. First he had read about sexual harassment, and now jarjarsucks22 threw the word abuse out there, referring to the Penal Code. Immediately, Peter looked up “New York Penal Law” on Google, but it took him a while to find the section the needed. Article 130 was titled “Sex Offenses”, but when he clicked on it, the firewall once again blocked him out and Peter groaned. Although he was sure he’d be able to hack into the firewall after only a few minutes of googling, he knew he wouldn’t have the guts to do it.
Feeling distressed, he took one last look into the thread he had created in the board, and saw there was one more reply.
[Padakin4ever] “Report him to the police! It’s punishable by law to touch someone without their consent, just like @jarjarsucks22 said (that is, as long as you didn’t EXPLICITLY say yes). Are you really only 14? Then make sure to talk to your parents or a teacher about it! The other guy isn’t really your friend if he made you do anything you didn’t want to do!”
Somehow, he didn’t feel relief. If anything, he was even more scared now.
As fast as he could, Peter deleted the thread and the replies he had gotten, and then stared at his phone as if it was a bomb, breaking out in a cold sweat. He needed more time to figure something out…
After calming down enough to type, he sent the following message: “Grounded because I got home late last time and broke the bike. I have to give them my phone too as punishment.”
Step one was done, now he only had to block Skip and hope that he’d never visit his house or school. He lay down onto the bed and cried in his pillow, just like he had done so often lately. What the other users had written echoed in his mind. How could Peter have been so stupid? First, he had trusted the older boy even though Ben and May had been somewhat wary about him, and then, he had let him do these embarrassing things to him, even partly believing him that doing stuff like that was normal. Peter had always thought he was highly talented and more intelligent than others, but then all this happened and… Hadn’t Skip even said that Peter had been tempting in a way? Was it his own fault Skip had touched him?
Uncle Ben and Aunt May would be so disappointed that he’d been so weak and stupid, and, which was even worse, might even feel sorry for him. Peter was done being the victim, he had thought he could finally put that behind with Skip by his side, but then he had let himself get abused – abused! Maybe it was good that his parents didn’t live to see what a despicable loser their son was… For the first time in many years, Peter wished that he could have died with them, or that he had never been born to begin with. After all, for now he had only caused pain and sorrow for himself and those he loved.
Peter struggled through the following (and last full) week of school before the Christmas holidays with the same attitude like the week before, trying not to get any attention on himself. Physics class was a different matter, though. Last week, he didn’t have to participate since Uncle Ben and Aunt May had agreed to excuse him for it for a week, considering the ‘weakened state’ the fever had left him with, but this week he didn’t dare to ask them again, not wanting to raise any suspicions.
Just the thought of having to undress in front of his classmates and giving them the opportunity of gawking at his half-naked body filled him with nausea, not to mention imagining what it would feel like if they touched him during an exercise or a game. Therefore, Peter stood in front of the locker room with shaking legs, frozen, until Josh and his group of pals wanted to get by him.
“What you’re staring at, Parker? Are you scared of doors now? Gosh, you’re so retarded!” Josh didn’t even try to pass him carefully, but barged into him deliberately, laughing dirtily. Peter flinched, but then heclosed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He could do it. None of these boys had ever hurt him in the way that Skip had, they were all as old as he was, and he didn’t have to be scared of them. At least not like that.
It took him a lot of effort to open the door, and as soon as he had entered the stifling room he went over to the bank and locker furthest away from the others. Even though nobody really paid him any attention, the room suddenly felt narrow and tiny. The laughter and chatter from the other boy’s sounded muffled and faint, and Peter found it hard to breathe again. He had to sit down, shielding his face with his trembling hands. Breathe in, breathe out, slowly. Repeat. Everything was fine; nothing (everything?) had changed. Maybe he should just wait until the others had changed and gone into the gym? The thought was soothing to Peter, and he eventually calmed down again. Nothing had changed.
Thankfully, Mr. Shaw had made them do circuit training, providing Peter with the opportunity to trail behind the others like he always did, being the weakest and tiniest of them all, without arousing any suspicions.
The next challenge waited for him on Friday, when Aunt May once again told him to invite Skip over for Sunday’s lunch. Last week he had ended up telling them that Skip was busy with school work, but sadly, this time they seemed to see through the lie, hardly managing to hide their frustration. “That’s a pity, we haven’t seen him in ages… and it’s been two weeks for you too, aren’t you disappointed about it?”
“Uhm… sure, but… it’s fine, really,” Peter said quickly, not missing the look the adults exchanged before Ben cleared his throat.
“Pete, do you want us to talk to his mom about it? After all, we’re leaving for New Haven next week. You won’t be able to see Skip for two more weeks then. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
Peter gulped when he thought about visiting May’s family for the holidays. Normally, he always loved getting out of the city and meeting up with Harrold and his other cousins, but for some reason, he was scared to see them this time. Harrold belonged to his old self, the life he had had before Skip had taken it from him and turned him into this despicable creature. Everything had changed.
“N-no, really, it’s…it’s fine, w-we can meet up after the holidays.” Peter got up so fast he almost tripped. “I uh…I have to pee.”
Ben and May watched him storm out of the room, flabbergasted.
On Sunday, Ben and May started to talk about it again. The woman suggested inviting Skip over as a surprise next week, if only for five minutes, so they could wish him a Merry Christmas and give him the little present they had bought for him. Ben had been against purchasing a gift at first, because he didn’t want Skip to think that they were trying to bribe him into staying friends with Peter, but a box of chocolate couldn’t be wrong, could it?
“Do you have his number or do you want to drive over?” Ben asked May, who shook her head.
“No… I’m thinking… I’m thinking of looking into Peter’s phone, to be honest.”
Ben frowned. “Are you serious?”
“Just for the number, I’m not gonna look at anything else… Besides, it’s not like he uses it a lot, so I doubt I would be in danger of seeing anything he didn’t want me to see.”
Her husband couldn’t argue against that, so in the afternoon, he coaxed his unmotivated nephew into building a snowman in the backyard, giving May enough time to snuck into Peter’s room and find out Skip’s number. The phone was lying on the boy’s desk, turned on, and May breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it wasn’t locked by any code. She quickly opened his contacts and her heart ached when she saw that her baby boy had only six contacts. Six. Ben, his cousin Emma, Harrold, herself, cousins Mel and Sebastian. May raised her eyebrows in confusion. Where was Skip’s number? May cursed under her breath and, even though she hated herself for it already, she opened Peter’s messages. She wouldn’t read anything, no, she would just… Her eyes widened when the very first chat didn’t show a name. Instead, it said ‘Blocked number’ and the few words of the last text message from nine days ago caught her attention. “Me: Grounded because I…”
The ‘Me’ told her that it was Peter who had sent the message, not the other person. What the heck…? For a few seconds, May hesitated, but she had to know who Peter was talking to, and, especially, why he had claimed to be grounded, which had never occurred even once in his life.
“Please forgive me, sweetheart,” the woman mumbled, knowing she would go to hell for this, before opening the chat. Peter actually lied about being grounded because he ‘had gotten home late’ and ‘had broken the bike’. He also claimed that he had to give up his phone. What the fuck was going on?
With every text May read, she became more confused and also, more scared. It had to be Skip Peter was talking to, but the young man clearly hadn’t been pushing him away. Quite the opposite, actually. He had asked Peter to meet up numerous times, and it had been her nephew who had made up numerous excuses why they wouldn’t be able to see each other. May didn’t like Skip’s tone though, it sounded very demanding, a little cold even. There was a text, that had May huff angrily.
“I s2g u better not have told some fucking shit about me!”
First of all, Skip should know better than to use ‘fucking shit’ when talking to an 11-year-old, but what was he implying? The message had been sent two days after Peter’s accident, and suddenly, May felt a shiver running down her spine. Did something happen with Skip that Peter was hiding from them? There was no way that the young man had been the one who had hurt him, no, but… Skip had also texted him on said Friday, telling Peter to now forget about their agreement. What god-damn agreement? May suddenly felt sick, even though she didn’t really know why. However, her gut feeling told her that something was deeply wrong. What was it she failed to see? Once again, her eyes focused on the message three down. “I s2g u better not have told some fucking shit about me.” Had Skip been afraid that Peter had not stood to their agreement, whatever it was about?
May put the phone back on the desk and walked back downstairs with slightly shaking legs, lost in thought. When Ben and Peter came back inside thirty minutes later, wet and freezing, she waited until the boy had gone upstairs before talking to Ben about what she had discovered. Her husband was so dumbfounded about the messages that he didn’t even scold May for invading Peter’s privacy so tremendously. Together, they racked their brains over what could have happened between the two, and eventually, May sighed, rubbing her aching head. “Maybe Skip showed him an R-rated movie or let him play a brutal game or… I don’t know, I’m sure his mom has alcohol at home, what if Skip let Peter take a sip, acting all cool and grown-up around him?”
“He better hasn’t done any of that, or I’d teach the boy a lesson he won’t ever forget,” Ben growled. “No matter what happened, we have to talk to Pete again. At least we now have evidence that he has been hiding something from us all this time, and it’s wearing me out.”
Day 52
They waited until the next day to confront Peter with their assumptions. It was the second to last day before the Christmas holidays, and they wanted to get it over with, so, after dinner, they sat down with him in the living room.
Peter immediately got a bad vibe when May and Ben looked at him gravely. “W-what’s going on?” he asked nervously.
“Pete…,” Ben started, sounding very serious, “you know that May and I… that we love you unconditionally, and that you can tell us anything, right?”
Peter didn’t dare to look his uncle in the eye. He knew they loved him, but he also knew that he was a nuisance to them because they never really wanted him. It felt like a slap in the face, yet he just nodded his head and bit down on his lip uneasily.
May, who was sitting down next to him, gently placed her hand on Peter’s knee, and even though his legs started to tremble slightly, he stayed calm and, for once, didn’t wince.
“Baby… I’m sorry, but… we wanted to talk to you about Skip.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat and his head shot up in panic. “W-what?”
His aunt and uncle glanced at each other alarmingly, before May continued in a sad voice. “Well, you never mention him anymore and so we thought… maybe you two had a fight?”
They had agreed on giving him a chance to be honest with them, without having to unsettle him by admitting that they had looked into his phone. The adults didn’t miss that Peter clenched his fists, avoiding all eye contact, and when he spoke, he wasn’t able to prevent his voice from quivering.
“Oh, uhm… y-yeah, actually, w-we fought and… and I guess w-we aren’t friends anymore.”
The grown-ups let out an exhausted sigh. “I’m really sorry, baby, but we wanted to surprise you by asking Skip to come over before we left for New Haven, so…I looked into your phone to get his number.”
Even though it wasn’t that hot inside the house, Peter immediately started to sweat, despite only wearing a thin shirt, blushing deeply. He felt violated, betrayed, and scared, but when he opened his mouth to defend himself, nothing came out except from a pathetic whimper.
“We’re really sorry, Pete,” Ben said quickly, “but we don’t regret it, because we finally hope that you will tell us what’s been going on with you. You are… everything to us, I… I have always promised your dad that I would look after you if something happened to him and your mom and… How can I do that if you don’t even tell me what’s hurting you?”
Admittedly, it was a low blow to mention Peter’s parents, but Ben didn’t know any other way to get his nephew to talk.
“You… you,” Peter pressed out, vision blurred from tears welling in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to get out of here, but since he was too scared to move, he just started to cry.
“I… I… I just d-don’t want to s-see him e-ever again.”
“But… why?” Ben asked. “Did he… show you something you weren’t supposed to see?”
Peter almost choked when he looked at his uncle with wide eyes, completely aghast. Was he so easy to read? “I… he… yes,” he admitted eventually.
“What did he show you?” Ben asked, almost relieved.
“P-pictures.”
His aunt and uncle frowned. “Pictures? What kind of pictures?”
“From a m-magazine… I don’t know the n-name.”
“Doesn’t matter, but… what did you see? Did it show violence?”
“Uhm… I dunno, I don’t think so, but… there was one w-woman who might have been in p-pain.”
Both adults seemed utterly confused now.
“Why do you think she might have been in pain, what was she doing?”
Peter blushed even more, and his left fingers fidgeted with a loose thread of his shirt. “She… the man had… had his… in her…” When he pointed at his crotch, shaking with anxiety, it dawned on Ben and May. However, they didn’t dare to believe what their little boy was implying.
“You… you mean…” Ben broke off and looked at his wife, completely thunderstruck.
“Were… were they naked?” May asked carefully.
When Peter nodded tentatively, the adults exchanged a horrified glance.
“What else did you see in that magazine?” Ben snapped and Peter flinched.
“I…I’m s-sorry, I… I didn’t want to!”
He started to sob and Ben immediately felt guilty. “I’m not… this isn’t your fault, Pete, sorry, I… He shouldn’t have shown you something like this. Did you see… their private parts?”
The boy closed his eyes, gulped, and then nodded slowly.
For a while, Aunt May and Uncle Ben were both lost for words. However, with every second that passed, Ben found it more and more difficult to stay calm. That bastard had deliberately shown porn magazines to their innocent 11-year-old boy. He wanted to kill him.
Meanwhile, May was trying to think of something she could say to Peter. “Listen, we know that… you didn’t want to see that, we aren’t mad or anything, that really wasn’t your fault, honey. If you, uhm… have questions about it, fell free to ask us or just Ben, if you prefer that.”
Peter quickly shook his head. “N-no, it’s… it’s fine, can I… can I go now? Please?”
“Is there anything else you want to tell us?” Ben asked, and the boy shook his head even more vigorously before jumping up and fleeing the room. All in all, he was almost glad that they at least knew about the magazines now. Hopefully, they had been truthful about not being angry with him, but the look on Ben’s face… Peter shuttered.
Downstairs, May had failed at calming Ben down. “I won’t put up with this, May!” the man hissed, “That bastard had traumatized our boy by showing him porn and you want to let him get away with it?”
“I never said that, stop twisting my words in my mouth! I’m just saying it will escalate if you go there now, and also, you can’t go behind Peter’s back like that. He’s obviously scared and he probably feels already betrayed by us reading his messages.”
“I don’t care,” Ben snapped, grabbing his car keys, “I’m going there, now. That little piece of shit can call himself lucky I’m not calling the cops on him, since I’m sure showing porn to children falls under child abuse.”
May turned white and hesitated for a second, before following her husband into the corridor. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll go with you.”