Chapter 5: Boundaries
I was tired, but I couldn’t return to bed and sleep or rest here in the filled tub. Whatever it was haunting me had settled in the bathroom to keep me company. Shivering in the tub, I watched an unseen digit dip into the water to streak its fingertip up the side of the tub’s edge and over. Splashing about in the tub was about all I accomplished in my startled state as I stuttered a vain curse, “Je-Jesus.”
Leaping out of the tub was a dare I would not take. Whatever it was, it probably sat right in my way to block my escape. For several minutes, it made little swirls on the surface or scooped up the water in a showering transparency of a cupped palm to let it pour back out into the bath. In the air, it would sometime just let the water drip off the end of its fingers. Like it was bored.
From my quivering lips and chattering teeth, I quietly asked, “Don’t like the water?” I blinked when it flicked water in my face. Nervous and jumpy laughter escaped me. After awhile, I stopped shaking in the chilly water. Warmer. The heated bathwater warmed up until it felt comfortable. Then I flinched when those invisible fingers flicked water at my face again. With a huff, I asked, “Should I thank you?” No response, but it did continue skipping its fingers over the rippling surface of the temperate water.
I was stuck.
In one world, it had saved me twice from succumbing to the ash and my own collapse on that fiery highway. In my world, it had raped me in my sleep and now appeared to delight in my torment. At least, I thought it was taking pleasure in my pain?
On the bathroom’s far end wall -- to the right of the toilet across from us -- the night had taken on a light shade of blue. Spring’s mornings were rising up earlier as we closed in on Summer. When the sun shone into the bathroom, I hoped the apparition would have fled from it like the thing could only exist in the shadows.
It stayed and kept playing with the water.
For once, I was going to head to school early.
Getting up and about to get out of the tub while I felt far too wretched to fear this thing, I glared in its general direction.
“Don’t touch me,” was more of a warning than a request. One that it didn’t care to listen to as I saw the impression of its fingers leave the water and felt it trace a ticklish calf-high touch. I gazed down at my leg, then wearily closed my eyes to find some resolve before blindly attempting to take my first step out of the tub.
Opening my eyes and breaking off my quick escape from the tub with a startled gasp, I was gripped by the shoulders. Not painfully so, but hard enough to force me firmly back against the shower wall. Glancing down, I saw the moated water collapse where it had stepped into the bath with me.
It didn’t fear the water.
Lifting my leveled gaze to nothing in front of me, I murmured flatly, “What do you want?”
Grazing over my cheek was what felt like its thumb before I felt it brush its digits back behind my blonde head. Hot waves of air, its heady breath, was blowing gently down my lips and chin. Only a faint touch hovered readily against my mouth.
It was like kissing the petals of a red hot rose while: a passionate heat beckoning me to go further with this contact. But I felt the sting of its burning mouth. If those lips were like a rose, than I had to be wary of its fiery thorns -- that was how my imagination envisioned this remarkable sensation.
Either way, through the forced pleasure and pain, I shivered and couldn’t prevent the reactive display of my inflamed erection.
Then it let me go and left the tub. It took me a moment to realize that I had dried completely. At least, that which was above the water dried. I didn’t stand around to discover if it would accost me in the bath again.
As I passed the bathroom mirror, I noticed the irritated redness in my sleepy eyes. I didn’t know how I was going to get through school today. Especially if that thing followed me like a depraved and imaginary lost and found puppy.
Without bothering with a towel, I ran to my room. It followed and teased. Just like when I first encountered it in the world of the blazing black heaven, it couldn’t keep its hands off me as I dressed. The whole endeavor to cover myself was shamefully done with an uncontrollable erection. It never touched there, but that didn’t matter.
After I obtained enough impressions of its heated and pliable softness, I began to imagine that its alluring figure was effeminate. I wouldn’t categorize its gender just yet, but my rising arousal didn’t appear to care.
Tortured by its unknown motive, I wanted to experience what it had done to me again. And I didn’t want that thing touching me ever again! It was frustrating to have these conflicting desires.
Getting my mind off of it, I scrambled to gather and fit my clothes on, but it was difficult over the burned dermis of my feet. Socks sucked and the shoes were worse.
“I was wrong,” I said to myself; it was absolute agony to walk! There weren’t blisters on my feet; if anything, they’d popped when I ran madly into my dad’s room. They weren’t raw either. It was like I had walked on broken glass and my soles had softened upon the weighted impact to be cut up. Slivers of sharp pain shot through my feet from each step I took. Favoring weight didn’t bother me as much, just the lift and touchdown were the real killers here.
Outfitted and ready to go, I fled my room at as fast a pace I could manage, slamming the door shut behind me, and took each step down the stairs with care. A tenderfoot race for the front door was on to only be stopped by Mike...
I was about out the door when he called out to me from the living room couch.
"Hey Clint. You want to go for some breakfast?" In the light of the morning, I could see the guy was built like a brick house. Just like me, a short-haired blonde -- like a freshly excavated nugget of dirty gold compared to my fairly light-yellow straws -- with a struggle to keep those bangs in check. He looked like an alright sort of guy to hang out with, but after last night...
Biting on the corner of my lip for a moment, I released my lip and informed him, "No, I'm good."
"A-Okay. Any place you want me to call in or have someone pick up?" He leaned to the side and gave his hip a slap to gesture at a hidden wallet. "I'm buying."
Gripping at the bottom hem of my shirt, I didn't feel comfortable. Not well. "No, really. I'm good, Mike. I'll see ya around."
"Here."
Before turning to go out, I turned to face him in confusion. "Huh?"
"You'll see me here. I'm not going anywhere. Also, call me anytime you feel like it." With a grin and wave, he said, "Have a good day."
I gave him a nod and regretted it. Dizziness overtook me. If I had not shut the front door behind me, Mike would have witnessed me stumbling across the front lawn to the sidewalk. Either I was tired, sick, or that thing last night had done something to me.
“Great.” Crossing my lawn and getting to the sidewalk was quite a tingly journey. “I shouldn’t have stopped and talked.” I clenched my eyelids tightly shut and tried walking my straight path to school. I had to act or think of something to distract me from the invisible splinters digging up and touching every nerve in my feet.
Thinking of invisible reminded me of that thing again.
On my way to school, I tried to figure out the irrational things that had happened, "It followed -- No, I was taken back. It closed the window. Why did it bother to put me in bed?" Palming my face for feeling stupid, I realized I should have been asking the most important question of all, "Does it know where my dad is?"
In the very instant I said that, a lung-crushing heat hooked me across the chest and pulled me back from a blowing by a vehicle speeding past. I stared after the honking car and felt even more dulled than before. So lost was I in thought that I’d nearly walked out into the busy intersection between my neighborhood, the Italian restaurant, and my school.
Rubbing my eyes and pinching at the bridge of my nose, I tried to wake up.
"School. Get past school first. Then Dad." Blinking away the irritating weariness from me, I walked safely alert this time around. It didn't occur to me until I reached the school gate that I’d been saved back there. I wouldn't be able to see it, but it accompanied me. "How long?"
"Huh?" One of my classmates at the gate with me mistook my talking to myself.
I shook my head and apologized, "Sorry. Talking to myself."
"Its all goo-- Ah hey, you feeling alright, man? You're all pink across the face." From one ear to the other, he streaked a trailing finger over his own face to indicate the meaning. I raised and pressed a hand against the side of my warm face. Then I shifted my palm across to the front of my burning cheek. Then I recalled how I’d barred my face from the flying flames of ash. It felt like the pinkening burn was an intense blush from ear to ear. "You want me to get someone?"
Lowering my head and closing my eyes, I gently rejected his offer. "Thanks, but no."
"Ah, how 'bout I keep with you until classes start?" That surprised me, but I didn't really want to stand out like I required help.
Again, I was about to refuse him, but when I opened my mouth, "Ahhg--" was all that came out.
It had caressed my other cheek to plunge long and determined fingers deeply into my mouth. It forced my head to nod by grabbing my jaw, hooking its thumb under my chin, and bumping the back of my head down while it pistoned into my mouth with a simple stroke of its fingertips. Back out and down -- those branding digits dragged -- to the tip of my tongue and wetly over my bottom lip. Wholly burning bright red across my cheeks from its perverse control over me, I remained still and quiet, panting shallow and humiliated breaths past my now glistening lips.
An instant shift of my singed tender hand, from burning cheek to quivering wet lips; I covered up my mouth. Had I not shut my eyes, he’d probably would’ve noticed by now how much I was tearing up from this unspoken ordeal.
"Dude, if you’re going to be sick…” I quickly shook my head in response. “Here -- Jeeze, you shouldn't be here today." I felt his supportive arm slip under mine to reach across my back. Without a fuss, I walked with him to the impassable brick wall of the school gate to lean in and sit down. He sat down by my side with me and snatched his arm back. "You caught a bug from someone or this come out of the blue?"
As a joke -- to at least save face -- I mentioned, "Dad was sick."
"Uh-huh, and you caught what he had." When he said that, I immediately thought, 'Dear God I hope not!' I had absolute zero tolerance for what had happened already to now go through Dad’s transition from a casual smoker’s gruffness to that disturbingly mellifluous ailment. “Clint? Is that you?”
Finally dropping my hand, I glanced at my classmate in sickening shame. He knew me well enough by name. By now, I should have guessed who he was. Thin, glasses, short mousy brown hair, faded and ruddy brown freckles sprinkled down his face as deep as disappearing past his throat into the collar of his shirt--
"Adam?" He jabbed his thumb up at himself with a grin at the mention of his name. "I thought you’d moved?"
He shrugged his shoulders in a careless laugh. "Nah. Jus' avoiding you."
Looking him over in appraisal, I concluded, "You're not doing a very good job of that right now."
That caused a light bout of laughter from the both of us.
Shaking his head at no one in particular, he noted, "I don't think you are in any condition to push me around." Then he shrugged. "At least right now."
Given how weary I was, I shook my head with a tender care, to not cause dizziness, and softly replied with, "Not at all this year."
"Yeah, I heard the teachers have it in for you. What did you do?" To tell him that I did nothing would be a laugh.
Locking eyes with his reflective lenses, I tried to be serious about this truth. "Nothing. It was someone else and I'm the scapegoat."
"Not surprising. You did take Roger's thunder." Hearing that name didn't ring any bells.
"Who's Roger?"
Adam jabbed his thumb over the shoulder at the wall behind us. "Next bully on the block. Only he's got a get out of jail free card." I just stared at him cluelessly. "Ah, Roger in Mr. Funk's class? The Roger that pretty much can cream anyone in Wrestling? Ah... dude, Roger Pureview?"
That clicked. "As in Mrs. Pureview?" He flashed me a toothy smile and nodded. I turned away from him to face forward, so I could lean and rest my head back and still listen. I groaned out, "Perfect."
"One of the teaches out to getcha?" Closing my eyes, I nodded in confirmation to his query. "Dude, don't fall asleep here. They'll get you for that."
In response was a shuddered breath leaving my lips. I didn't close my eyes because I chose to. They were irritable before, but now they burned non-stop from the lack of sleep.
He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Clint, why don't -- I'll get a teacher and let them know you're not well. They can call--"
"They can't call Dad. He's missing--" Wincing, now I had a constant ringing whistle in my ears. I caught him doing another, “Ah,” before going quiet. His hand remained on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze to show he wasn't getting up anytime soon while I rested. I broke the silence. "You are considerate."
"Ahh -- I try to be."
Smiling, I told him, "Thanks."
The hand on my shoulder shifted a little with pressure and Adam's voice sounded closer, "Dude, you must be sick. You thanked me."
I shrugged, "I'm just thankful. No one has been there by me this year."
"Really? Like even ah, Steven--"
"Moved."
"Erin?"
"Dumped me."
"Freddy."
"Who?"
"Never mind. Ah, Lester?"
"You mean Fester? That's his nickname for being a baldy." Not to mention David ‘Fester’ Litchfield was a creep. I was tempted to shake my head, but the dizziness became worse. "He's around, but doesn't talk to me anymore." Shuddering another sigh, I clarified the situation, "No one. Not one of my friends are my friends anymore."
I heard him cluck his tongue. "Yeesh. I guess they weren't really friends."
"Bingo."
Ringing in the distance was the proudly announced first bell of the school opening. I tried to open my eyes, but they were sealed shut with an intense fiery pain. Without seeing, I wasn't going to be making it very far into school today, let alone any classes.
"Do you need help getting up?" One good rattled shrug and a dismal shake of my head later, he said: "Okay, Clint, you need help. Come on. Here we go." Like before, he slipped his arm under mine and used the wall as support to help lift me up onto my feet.
Good idea or not -- because I literally had no idea where he might go with this knowledge -- I decided to reveal to him my current issue, "I can't see."
"Open your --” I faced him before he annoyed me with that coming smartass comment. “Yeah, you're not kidding around. Okay. You say you can't see; you can't see. I gotcha." Adam gave me an affirmation by squeezing and we walked. A few seconds later, "Mr. Hillside--"
“Adam, no.” He was getting a teacher after I had told him not to already, and I'd told him so again.
"You're sick and now blind. Do the math." I shut my trap up tightly. As much I hated to admit it, he was right.
"Adam... Clint?" Without having to look, I could hear the confused worry in his voice. That was unusual. "Come on. Nurse's." On my other side was yet another arm sliding under and across to support me. "What happened?"
"I think he's sick." I bowed my head to agree with that. No use being in denial.
"Once we are inside, go to class. Don't mention this to anyone." There was a pause before I heard Mr. Hillside add, "Especially if anyone asks. Let them figure it out."
With a soldier’s 'Yes Sir' tone, Adam said, "Will do, sir."
Other than the crowded traffic of students heading into the halls, the trip to the nurse was in silence...
I'd been in the nurse's office for possibly a class period or two. I’d been unable to tell without looking at the clock above the entrance. Even then, I think Ms. Stills had pulled the curtain close on me.
Since I had nothing to really lose by trying this, I decided to pry an eyelid open. I managed to get a little portion of light to enter, and all I saw was a background color like burgundy. Then a dull headache decided to mess with my sinuses.
Footsteps were rounding a corner before the shift of clapping sounded different from the hall's cheap linoleum tiles to the nurse's smoothed and glazed concrete tiles. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone was pulling my leg. Clint, not feeling good, are we?" That voice sounded familiar.
I took a shot in the dark: "Mrs. Pureview?"
"Mhm and I see we are being tardy today. You are to report any tardiness to the office before heading here." Other than her casual tone, I heard her scribbling on something hard. Probably writing on a clipboarded paper about me. "Once you feel better, you can be expected to learn a lesson on punctilio during I.S.S."
In agitated confusion -- also not having a clue what that ‘P’ word meant -- I tried to understand her later meaning, "In School Suspension?” That was better than After School Detention, but I still argued because of the requirements to receive that. “I thought I had to have quite a few demerits for that?"
She chuckled brusquely and said: "Oh yes. You do have just two. Consider today’s attendance as the remainder of your classes would mark your absence. I suppose that will rack up to five for defaulting on an unexcused absence." On a cheerfully pitched note, she added: “I did review your record and I am very impressed with never missing a day of school for being sick. Not once in your life!”
Grinding my teeth until they clicked -- contemplating the old saying When push comes to shove -- I responded with an improvised ‘Thank You’ of my own for her noticing and added, "Well, fuck you very much, ma'am. How do you think you're getting away with --"
"You've quite the record and I doubt Mr. Jeter will be shocked to hear of you being sick as a dog or the germinated penalties of delinquencies." Her tone certainly could lay it on thick, from the mockingly high Professional Teacher to a low Sergeant Bitch. "Yes, deary, I reviewed your entireschool records. It will be only a matter of time for your expulsion with your frequent conduct."
I wondered to myself, ’What has gotten into her?’ It was a mistake to shake my head, but it was a habit when someone keeps making me listen to their shit. On that thought, "If this is about the coffee --"
"E. coli Infection doesn't take an overnight rest. To come close in recovery, Clint, it may be next week. Have you seen any of the faculty be substituted after that stunt?" I had not taken notice, but then again I was busy trying to deflect their accusations. "Hope you learn something today about grinning and bearing it?”
For a split second, a name popped into my head and escaped my lips before I knew I had said it, "Roger."
"... What about him?" I shrugged -- because I didn't know why I said his name -- and kept quiet. "Clint. You will tell me what you meant by that now or I will record that as a threat." She made me want to laugh at that. Had she taken a good look at me? "You have a countdown from three before this becomes serious."
Unable to endure anymore, I popped open my restraint and angrily blew up. "I thought you were taking this seriously, you fucking bitch!" My eyes flew wide open in an absolute rage. I could see again!
"I've had about eno--" The thud and crash to my side alerted me, but I turned and saw nothing. Not until I looked down over the edge of the nurse's bed.
Laying on the floor was Mrs. Pureview, twitching and spasming, in what looked like one Hell of a violent seizure. Straining to turn to look up at me, I caught the ticking pulse of a pronounced vein on the side of her neck as she fought for repossession on control. Her eyes shook as they tried to shift in my direction. Once our eyes locked, I couldn’t help myself admiring how her current green outfit matched those twinkling beautifully wide eyes of hers.
Despite her current predicament, I was in no condition to get up and move around. Snapped out of my trance, I started to shout as loudly I could, "Ms. Stills! MS. STILLS!"
The commotion I was making did get Ms. Stills and a few other's attention in here. Gathered around Mrs. Pureview were the Nurse, Mr. Funk, and that janitor Alex. With their attention on the fallen teacher, I rolled back to staring at the ceiling.
It was an impression of a stroking radiant heat and currently benign digits combing over and through my fair hair that soothed me into rest. A single shuddered sigh later and I was struggling with my eyelids gradually fluttering closed again...
Sooo a ?demon? From hell is touching him while protecting him from stuff?
Pretty much.
Rapey protective yandere demon.....nice
Reading is like reading of urethra play but the writing and story is good so I can't get myself to give it up