Behind the Tears (Behind the Lives) (37 page)

“You had your fuckin’ tongue in my mouth, you dirty bastard!”

“So the fuck what? I wanted to kiss you, so I kissed you. Just be grateful I didn’t do more.”

Ash spat at Chaz. “I can fuckin’ taste your disgusting breath!” he shouted, pushing himself off the bed, the need to make Chaz pay for what he did to him overwhelming. “I’m gonna cut your fuckin’ cock off!”

Chaz grabbed Ash’s crotch and twisted, making Ash’s yell out. He went still, the grip too hard to pull free from without causing damage.

Chaz moved his face close, his lips brushing Ash’s. “Watch what you say, cos I don’t need your cock, only your boy cunt.”

“Let go,” Ash said, breathing heavy, the pain in his balls making him wince.

“Only if you say
please
.”

“Please. Fuck, please, please...”

“I like you begging, it makes me hard.” Chaz loosened his grip and pulled out the knife from his pocket. Flicking it open, he waved it in front of Ash’s face, then lowered it to Ash’s crotch. “Now, are you gonna be nice to me?”

Ash nodded, his eyes almost bulging out, his heart racing so fast he could hear it in his ears. The flat part of the blade ran across his underpants making him jolt backwards. The back of his legs knocked into the bed, sending him falling onto the mattress. Chaz leaned over him, running the blade up the inside of Ash’s thighs, the sting causing Ash to pant as it got closer to his balls.

“No, no, no...” he gasped.

The blade stopped a lick away from his balls, then Chaz lowered his head and kissed them through Ash’s underpants. “All better now,” he said, straightening.

Ash stared up at him, his heart still pounding hard, what had happened telling him he was going to get kissed, fucked or whatever else Chaz’s perverted mind wanted, and he had no say.

Chaz pointed at the floor with the knife. “Next time you waste food I’m gonna shove it up your arse. So eat everything I give you like a good li’l
pet
. Now, bark if you agree?”

“No.”

“Bark!”

“Kill me!”

Chaz shook his head. “You really have balls, just a matter of whether you want them attached or not.” He pointed the knife at Ash. “Now, I’m sure you don’t give a fuck if I kill you, but no man wants a knife cutting him below. So, bark!”

“You’re sick!”

Chaz smiled. “Ballsy but dumb. You were never that bright, the type to cut off his balls to spite his cock.” He bent down and speared a chip. “You want me to feed you, pretty baby?”

Ash gritted his teeth to stop from screaming at Chaz, his need to tear the man apart, to see blood—so strong. But instead he remained lying on the bed, the throb in his balls keeping him from lashing out again, both in words and action.

Chaz cocked his head. “Not gonna bite back?”

Ash shook his head.

“Good boy.” Chaz pointed at the cabinet. “I made you porridge, so you’re gonna eat every last drop, then lick the bowl clean. Understand?”

Ash nodded.

“Now, that wasn’t hard, was it?”

Ash shook his head.

“I like you better as a pussy than a cunt,” Chaz said smiling, then he bent down and scooped up the fish and chips off the floor, piling it onto the plastic plate.

Ash watched as Chaz left, his gaze remaining on the door for a while afterwards. When he was sure Chaz wasn’t returning, he pushed up and pulled his underpants forward, giving his balls and cock a look, the pain now only a dull ache. He let go and pushed to his feet, then went to the cabinet. His stomach growled, telling him to eat the porridge and to forget that it could be drugged, that he had no control over his body, whether he was conscious or not. If anything, it would be better if he was drugged, because he didn’t want to remember getting fucked.

With his tied hands, he picked up a spoonful of porridge, swearing as it spilt, splattering on his shirt and the floor. Trying again, this time slower, he managed to get a spoonful into his mouth, then another one and another, until he’d eaten half of the bowl, the last mouthful having a nasty bitter aftertaste. He spat it out, and wiped his tongue on his arm, trying to get it off. Swearing, he turned around and jumped towards the door, needing to wash away whatever fucking drug Chaz had used. As he opened the door a wave of dizziness slammed into him, taking his legs out from under him, his mind going blank before he hit the floor.

***

A noise woke Ash. He opened his eyes, finding himself back on the bed with the duvet wrapped around him. He wriggled out of it and got to his feet, a sense of déjà vu infusing his wrung out body, the weariness making him wish he’d eaten more of the porridge so he could sleep longer.

He looked over at the bowl, still on the cabinet, but with a note stuck to the outside, telling him to:
Lick it clean or I’ll make you lick my balls.

Before he could think what he was doing, Ash swung out at it, knocking the plastic bowl to the floor, his rage taking over reason and his sanity. When he realised what he’d done, he yelled out at the top of his lungs, frustration as well as anger enveloping him, filling his stomach and sinking to the bottom faster than the porridge.

After calming down, his gaze flicked to the door, expecting Chaz to come barging through with a knife, and punishing him for making a mess—for not doing what his
Lord and Master
had told him. Ash spat on the ground, disgusted with Chaz’s sick mind games.

When the sadist didn’t enter, Ash hopped over to the curtains, using his head to nudge them apart. For a moment, he considered putting his head though the glass, but instead looked out at a small enclosure surrounded by tall pine trees, the sun bathing everything in its bright rays. What Chaz had said about being near Waipoua Forest returned, the place hours away from his home, and somewhere no one would think to look for him.

Pulling back, he looked at the porridge on the floor, some of it still remaining in the bowl. Wondering how long he’d slept, he bobbed down and dipped a finger in, finding the porridge neither hot nor cold. He wiped the finger on the side of the mattress, then stood up, momentarily distracted by the glass of water. Ignoring his thirst, he turned away from it and hopped towards the door, wanting to piss on Chaz, because he was fucking busting. He nudged the door open, then entered a lounge which appeared to be in the middle of a renovation—or in bad need of one. It reminded him of his Uncle Luka’s house, where everything was half-finished, with the walls partially lined, the pink insulation showing like candy floss and a mismatch of carpets thrown on the floor without care.

Chaz got up from the couch. “Feeling better, Tarzan? Cos that was quite some holler.”

“Fuck up.”

Chaz shook his head. “You never learn, do ya?”

Ignoring him, Ash glanced at the next doorway, hoping it was the bathroom. He started jumping towards it, tensing as his stepfather followed.

“Do ya needa go to the toilet?” Chaz asked.

“Fuck off,” Ash said, nudging the door open with a shoulder.

“I’ll help you,” Chaz said.

“Fuck off!”

Chaz jolted. “Stop bloody attacking me every time I offer help.”

“You only help yourself.”

“Shit, you look exactly like Dante when you’re being a nasty cunt. Maybe if you keep it up I’ll think I took the wrong brother. Do you know what I’d do to Dante if I had him?”

“Exactly what you’re gonna do to me.”

“No, I’d fuck him in a second and would make it hurt like buggery.” Chaz smirked, like he’d made a funny joke. “Whereas I’d make sweet love to you.”

“You’re a sick fuck.”

“Well, you should know, cos I heard you got
real
sick after the last time.”

“You bastard!” Ash jerked back as Chaz pulled out his knife.

“You weren’t gonna attack me, were you?”

Yes.
Ash shook his head as his eyes followed the knife like watching a tennis match, although the ball was completely in Chaz’s court.

“Remember what I said about you being nice to me.” Chaz moved the knife lower.

Ash nodded.

“You gonna say sorry.”

Ash’s lip twitched.

“You’re too proud, aren’t cha?” Chaz ran the knife up Ash’s leg. “But you weren’t earlier after eating the porridge. Didja realise I drugged it so I could clean you? I gave you a sponge bath.”

“You—” The blade pressed into Ash’s leg, taking his voice away and drawing blood.

“
Again.
Be grateful that I didn’t fuck ya, cos I wanted to.” Chaz reached for Ash’s hair, causing him to flinch. “Looks like master needs to train his bad li’l pet.”

“I’m—”

“Watch what you say,
pet
, cos this knife is so close to making you a bitch.”

“I’m already your bitch.”

Chaz smiled. “Nice answer.” He stepped back and waved the knife. “You better hop along balls of steel before I forget my conscience and take you right here and now, cos my cock is ready to explode.”

Ash quickly hopped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut with a shoulder, then leaned against it, scared that Chaz was going to come in. When he didn’t, Ash relieved himself then washed his hands, giving the mirror taps with his sore forehead as he cleaned, distracting himself with the pain, because he knew Chaz hadn’t given him a sponge bath—he smelt the same and the porridge mark was still on his shirt, which meant that Chaz had drugged him for another reason, something Ash didn’t want to know about.

Once clean, he cautiously opened the bathroom door, worried that Chaz was waiting for him. To his relief the lounge was clear, so he quickly headed for the kitchen, hoping to find something, anything that could cut the rope.

Like the lounge, the kitchen was in a state of disrepair, the bare floorboards and unpainted window ledges giving the place a worn out feel. His gaze latched onto drawers underneath the bench. He hopped over and pulled open the top one, only finding plastic cutlery like the spoon he’d eaten with.

“Looking for a knife to stab me with?”

Ash jumped at Chaz’s voice. He turned around, finding Chaz only a few steps away.

“Well?” Chaz asked.

“I only wanted to cut the ropes off,”
along with your cock.

“Just cos you’re not too bright doesn’t mean I believe your lies.”

“Stop insulting me!”

Chaz took a step back. “Don’t even think about it, Ash. You won’t win.”

Ash glared at him. “What’s the point in keeping me here?” He nodded at the fridge. “You’re wasting food on me, and you can’t exactly go to the supermarket with your ugly-arse face—”

“I’m not ugly.”

“You are to me, you sick pervert.”

“You really are dumb insulting me,” Chaz said, putting his hand on his pocket, the one holding the knife.

“It makes no diff; you’ll still rape me, you paedo shit!”

Chaz’s eyes narrowed. “You should be grateful I’m not a paedo, otherwise I would’ve taken your sweet li’l boy. He’s a gorgeous wee thing.”

Rage shot through Ash at the memory of Chaz being at Tiana’s place. It hadn’t clicked before, his situation and the drugs dominating his mind, but now the thought that Chaz had touched his son spurred him forward. He tripped as he tried to ram himself into Chaz, knocking both of them to the floor, his stepfather grunting in pain underneath him. Ash head-butted him, hurting his injury even more, but he was beyond caring.

Hollering from the blow, Chaz pushed out, knocking Ash into the stove. Ash rolled over and tried to get up, but got shoved onto his stomach as Chaz climbed on top of him. Ash went to butt Chaz with the back of his head, but got his hair grabbed and a large hand clamped over his mouth and nose. He struggled to get free, but Chaz held on tight, the seconds without oxygen making Ash’s mind go hazy.

Chaz leaned close to his ear, snarling, “Hello,
Dante
.”

Ash blanked out, his last thought of what Chaz had said about Dante running through his mind:
‘I’d fuck him in a second and would make it hurt like buggery.’

33

Dante

Dante sat in a chair opposite a policeman with Tiana and Juliet on his right. He’d seen this guy a few times, the chin scar hard to miss, but from memory he’d always been drunk when the cop had pulled him in.

The cop turned his gaze on Dante. “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll find your brother.”

But in what state?

“New Zealand’s a small country; someone’s bound to see your stepfather.” The cop smiled, which Dante assumed was supposed to be reassuring, but it didn’t feel it, because although the country wasn’t big, there were still plenty of places you could disappear to. His own father proved that when he vanished for weeks on end, leaving Dante alone as a teenager. It was probably why his dad eventually moved to rural Taranaki, isolating himself from everyone. But Dante didn’t blame him, because he wished he could do the same.

The cop continued, “Actually, we’ve had a couple of leads, one in Orewa and another in Wellsford. Do you know if your stepfather has any relatives or friends from those areas?”