Nathan's Tale - Prologue + Ch 1

Nathan's Tale

Prologue

Kali got out of the car, her eyes troubled, taking in everything around her. She had a shy, wary look about her, like a wild doe. Slinging her burgandy sack over her shoulder, she looked back at her parents. They smiled reassuringly, but could see the toll the stress had taken on her young body. They could see the pain in her eyes... Eyes which seemed aged beyond their years. a breeze whistled through the leaves, singing a sweet melody of life. she smiled lightly, the wind rustling her auburn hair from her pale face. Her gaze went to the reflection in the window, and for a moment she could see every bruise, every cut, every blemish... Every mark of every wound she had withstood in the past few months. But it was just an illusion. Her face was smooth an clear, if not pale, even slightly gray. The marks were just part of her imagination. What she saw beyond her own face though, was not.

The young man had watched them pull up to the little two-story house. The moving trucks had been in and out all week. It was about time that poor little building got some life into it. He chuckled to himself, leaning against a tree that stood on the property across the street. He bit into his apple, wiping the juices that drizzled down his chin. As the back of this hand grazed a sore on his jawline, he winced, but didn't cry out. She frowned, watching his reflection just past hers. His bruises, however, were bery real. Her mother touched her shoulder, causing her to jump.

"Come on honey. Let's unpack."

Kali nodded and followed them inside. she looked out the window, just in time to see the boy run his fingers through his long, dark brown hair, throw his core to the ground and then turn to leave. He looked up at her window, and for a moment, she could see right into his brilliant eyes. His eyebrows rose and she knew he'd seen her too. A nervous panic shot through her body and she stumbled away from the window. There was something familiar in his eyes. And she didn't know it... but... he'd thought the same about hers....

Chapter 1 - Home Life

Nathan tenced as he got to his house, hugging his long cotton coat to his body. His step-father's car was in the driveway... He winced, hoping Jack wouldn't notice that he was almost an hour late coming home from school.

"NATHAN!"

He'd noticed.

"Get your goddamned ass in here, you ungrateful runt!" Jack's voice boomed from inside their house. Nathan swallowed hard, tossing his wallet into the hedges beside the house... just incase. Cringing, he entered through the front door. He could see his mother in the kitchen, her feet shuffling smoothly on the tiles, the smell of frying hamburger and tomato paste filling his sensitive nostrals. Even from down the hall, he knew she'd put in too much chilli powder, just the way he liked it. But she didn't do it for him. She just couldn't cook. He heard the door swing shut slowly behind him, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck began to rise.

"Do you know what time it is?" Jack's voice growled lowe behind him.

Nathaniel was calm as he glanced at the clock on the microwave. "Five fourty-six, but I think that clock might be a little fast." His loose ponytail was grabbed and he grit his teeth to keep from yelling out as he was wretched to the floor. He grunted and found himself staring up at Jac's huge form. The man's dark brown eyes bore down at his stepson.

"Was that you trying to be smart, Mistake?"

Nathan struggeld to sit up, only to be kicked in the chest. The world swam as the air was rushed from his lungs, but with a shake of his head, he managed to reply. "N-no sir... I just answered your question." He knew he was making a mistake, but he didn't care. As long as Jack wasn't hitting his mother.

"Why you mouthy bastard." The boy closed his eyes as he was yanked up by his shirt. He was backhanded roughly and cried out, swiftly biting down on his lip to keep back any other noise of pain. Jack snickered.

"Ahhh.... I know what'll teach you some manners..." He shoved Nathan backwards, the boy stumbling, his face slowly paling as he found himself against the wall next to his bedroom, and Jack was taking off his leather belt. His eyes went wide and he shook his head hard, looking for a way out.

"No, no Jack, no, I'll be good--I promise!"

"Oh, I know you will, Runt."

"I'll never mouth off again, I swear Jack!! Please, just don't--" He was cut off as Jack flung him into his bedroom. Nathan screambled to his feet, only to be grabbed by the front of his shirt and shoved backwards onto the bed. He backed towards the headboard, bringing his knees up to his chest. Jack pushed on the door until he heard the latch click into place.

"I don't think so, you little shit." Jack growled, walking slowly to the foot of the bed, sneering at the fear that was obvious in Nathan's eyes. "I've put up with this crap from you for long enough. Now you're going to learn the hard way what happens when you disobey your elders."

Nathan wasn't too baddly phased by Jack's words, it was typical. He'd always "put up with it for too long" always "sick of his shit" and was always about to "teach him a lesson." What scared him was the wait... Jack knew he was afraid. Afraid of those huge hard hands, afraid of the rough nails on his flesh, and afraid of the way it made him feel. Afraid of the helplessness and confusion always caused. Jack milked the fear, watching Nathan as they stared at eachother, nervous sweat beginning to form on Nathan's upper lip. Finally Jack grew tired of waiting, and leapt into action. As he lunged for Nathan's leg, the boy let out a startled yelp, trying to pull away.

Jack dragged the boy to him, catching his other ankle to keep him from kicking. He pulled the boy's hips to him, grabbing him by the shirt collar into a rough kiss. Nathan grit his teeth, his eyes shut tight, lips pursed against Jack's tongue. His stepfather grew frustrated, gripping Nate's shoulder and flipping him onto his belly.

He growled, struggling away, onto to be struck in the back of the head, the world blurring and spinning. The rest of the experience was a painful blob, a cold smear of sharp hurt and insults, his hands pinned above his head, his face burried in the pillows, tears streaming down his face, sobbing in fear, pain and humiliation. The insults that Jack spat turned to encouragement, and Nathan struggled back the vomit that rose in his throat, praying for Jack to die, die right then and there, die and never hurt him again. And if not his stepfather, then at least himself... Finally, mercifully, the boy blacked out.

He woke a little while later, cold and shaking as if from some horrible nightmare. A nightmare, that's all it was. His hair was half in, half out of the elastic tie, his long brown bangs resting on his cheek. He could hear Jack's breathing, heavy beside him. His heart sank, becoming aware of the dulling pain that covered every orafice of his body. It wasn't a dream afterall. Jack shifted on the matress.

"Nathan... I..." The boy could feel trembling fingertips on his face and he pulled away from the older man's touch. He kept his face turned away, his dark hair matted to his cheek by his own tears.

"Let me make it up to you..." Jack whispered, and Nathan leapt away from his advance.

"I'm not like you, Jack." Nathan growled, backing away so far that he fell off the side of the bed, clambering into the small space between his dresser and the corner where his walls met. Jack stood up, buttoning his jeans and glaring. His eyes grew dark and angry again.

"No shit, you little faggot. I'm not a fucking rainbow-happy, pillow-biting freak like you. You make me sick." Jack spat at him. Foamy mucus splattered against his stepson's cheek. "No shit you're not like me. I'm not a goddamned fudgepacker."

"You aren't, Jack?" Nathan wiped the revolting goo off his face, watching through hooded eyes.

Jack snarled but Nathan was too far away to bother disciplining. Besides, he was tired. "Stay in your room, Fuckup. Until I decide what to do with you. With that he left, slamming the bedroom door behind him so hard that the glass of Nathan's window shook in its pane.

Nathan sighed, stiff and sore. Now was his time to think, to resort his ideas, confirm his beliefs. He reassured himself that it wasn't anything he had done, it wasn't his fault. He had overcome that confusion a long time ago. Jack had problems. Nathan had taught himself that he couldn't stop it, but if he kept the bastard from hurting others, he could handle the humiliation and the rape.

The beatings were the easiest to stand. He rose slowly, going to the mirror on his dresser. Bare, just like the rest of his room. Nothing on his dressers, nothing on his walls, just a blue comforter worn threadbare, under a couple of shabby pillows. He stared at the mirror, looking at the dark red patches on his face and neck. Within a few hours, they'd become black bruises. No matter though, they didn't hurt. Not yet at least. His silky hair was messed and tangled, and as he reached into his top drawer for his brush, his eyes locked on his own reflection. Then he saw. He knew why that girl's eyes had been so familiar, why the pain and secrecy he read in them had seemed so real. They were the same eyes he saw every day. In himself.