Becoming a star

Title: Becoming a star
Author: cold_writer
Summary: Love is something that people would do anything for. Even if it means becoming a star.



Our pants filled the air as lightning filled the dark room of the basement. My head was spinning with pleasure that tore throughout my body. I wanted to forget. I need to forget. And this was as close as I was getting to forgetting. I shifted myself hitting that spot within him, making him cry out in pleasure screaming my name.
How is that I, the boy who know one would think twice to talk to, let along befriend, is here fucking the star baseball player at our school. He enjoys being my little bitch. Who was I to deny him this pleasure?
I pound into him harder as my needs become more urgent. He likes it.
“More…” He cries out. “Fuck me harder.”
I was like a pistil and he was my helpless victim. Within a couple more thrust he went over the edge, his muscle squeezing me tightly. With a groan I came inside of him before I collapse over him.
My mind was in a haze. Only the sound of the storm out side and our panting was heard. After a moment I regained my talking ability.
“Get dressed and out.” This was my routine. It was nothing but a good fuck, and they knew it. Yes, they, the hole team. I’m nothing more then the team fuck boy. Me, Axel Smith, the odd boy out, the one who you walk pass in the hall.
Once I heard the door shut, I was left alone with my thought. My thought are what torment me, their, the reason why I am what I am today.
/Did you think screwing some boy would get rid of me? /
I said nothing trying to ignore the voice in the back of my head.
/Do you want to get rid of me? /
Again I said nothing. But the voice knew it had my attention, as I eagerly await some clue to rid myself of this evil torture.
/How bad do you want me gone? Well you do anything, to rid yourself of me? /
I thought the question over and how much pain the voice brought me each day. Reminding me how much my parents hate, that why I down here, in the basement. I’m suppose to be locked away from those who are to love and care for me. Never once can I remember hearing words of love and praise coming from my parents. It’s always what I do wrong that they talk about. If they don’t talk about that, then their talking about how much they hate. Funny thing is they think I can’t hear it. But I hear it all. I hear each and every time they say they wish I get rid of me.
/You have no- one in this world to love you expect me and I’m the only one in this world who would ever love a piece of trash like you. /
I flinch at the word love. How many nights have I been prying for someone to love me?
/That’s right, I love you. Now what are you going to do to prove you love me?
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to rid myself of this voice but the voice was the only one that ever truly loved me. How can I rid myself of love when that’s all I ever wanted?
/ The only thing you have to do is go up stairs and get your mothers favorite knife the one that you always keep staring at with the sharp blade. /
I knew what the voice wanted me to do but could I do that. What would my mother think?
/ She wouldn’t care. She doesn’t even care about you now. /
Yet, again the voice was right. To my mother she only has two children, my older brother and my youngest sister. I’m the rape child; the child that reminds her of that night. To her I’m her punishment for being raped. I’m her punishment for every time something goes wrong.
All these thought filled my head, each giving me a reason to hate my life, to end it just as easy as it was to begin. To use my mother favorite knife that was something I am not willing to do. I am not as she is, malicious. And I will not die in a place that I have grown all my life to hate. No, I do not hate my mother or my family I do not hate anyone for that matter. They didn’t know better. My mother did not ask or want to have me. She did not ask to be thrown on the ground like some whore and raped. My eldest brother, Its not his fault that our, his, parents thought him to hate me. Just like its not my younger sister fault for that same reason. I love them all and to night I an willing to prove how much love I have for them.
______________________________________________________________

As I walk down the dark side walk in the park I hum to myself the song my mother song to my bother and sister as they were growing up. She did not sing it to, for I was not her child.

My little child rest your head.
Go to sleep and visit dream land.
The night is growing old and you
are two. So sleep little one. And
dream of a tune.

That verse was always my favorite verse. Sometimes at night I would pretend that she was sing to me, then slowly draft asleep into restless sleep, dreaming of the past and previous day.
I was now standing on a bridge looking out into the world that was in front of me. The moon was shining into the water giving it a glow of awe. It looked so tempting and peaceful. I would finally be able to rest knowing that I did the right thing by thought who I wished to love me.
Taking my last breathe I look to the heavens, the stars where all dimmer tonight. I to wished to be a star and now hopefully I will become one.