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The way of the lost	By : Triyune Category: Gensomaden Saiyuki > Yaoi - Male/Male > Sanzo/Gojiyo Views: 1062 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Saiyuki belongs to Kazuya Minekura and I don't make money out of it.

Chapter List
- 1-The way of the lost
- 2-Redemption
- 1
- 2
Series: Saiyuki

Title: The way of the lost

Author: triyune

Pairing: Gojyo/Sanzo

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: angst, violence, dub-con, genderfucking

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance. But can something so profoundly ruined ever come into blossom again if self-doubts keep you from dissipating your ignorance?

A plea against fear and jealousy.

The way of the lost

To the dear hearts

to the faint hearts

don’t despair

there’s always someone

someone

A few days ago our holidays had started. Yes, indeed, we were granted 2 full weeks off, not forced to bother about the shit westwards. After some fervent discussion I had done them the favour finally, went to the temple of the town and requested holidays from the deities. Had they been human they would have laughed; however, that way they seemed angered at their first class toy having the effrontery to ask them for some days off the death trouble they were encountering day by day.

Eventually, the Bosatsu appeared and supported my request. I was sure she knew already what was going on since she was smirking at me during an unwatched moment, but apart from that she argued nicely and really got them to approve of the two weeks off.

When I left them I could smell the scent of the Bosatsu still. The rest was waiting in front of the temple doors. By now, Gojyo and Hakkai had developed such an aversion for temples that they didn’t want to set one foot on the sacred floor when they did not have to. Goku readily would have accompanied me, but they had told him it was better when I was dealing with the gods alone.

The three of them were eagerly awaiting my response. To strain their minds some more I casually lit a cigarette and took a drag from it and another one until Gojyo gripped my sleeve and screamed at me, “So what, you fucking chief priest, what did they say?!”

I tore at my sleeve and it fell from his hand.

“Two weeks. And now get out of my sight.”

Their faces lit up immediately.

“In two weeks we’ll meet in front of the temple again, 10am. Everyone who’s not showing up will be left behind, understand?”

“I’ll think about showing up then, I guess,” Gojyo said teasingly but I just replied, “Do what you please,” and fished the Mastercard from my sleeve. I handed it to Hakkai with the words “Get yourself some money, as much as you need”, then I turned to walk past them.

Behind me, I could hear Goku shouting my name, and he would have run after me but Hakkai took him by the hand.

“Give him two weeks, Goku. You see, we’ve been stuck together for almost a year now, day by day and night by night...he deserves some privacy too, don’t you think?”

I could see Goku looking up at him in my mind, with big eyes, trying to understand what Hakkai wanted to tell him.

“Yeah, but, I’ll behave!”

“Goku. You will see him again. It’s not farewell forever.”

What little did they know.

What little did I know yet.

I went down the stairs and shouted back at them, ”You leave the town with jippu, I don’t care where you go but I don’t wanna see just an inch of any of you during the next 14 days!”

“Yes, Sir!” Gojyo shouted back and laughed.

Anything else I did not hear anymore. I was just looking for the next inn to get a room for the night.

Hakkai, Gojyo and Goku were still on the temple platform, discussing where they should go now. They finally decided to get some money for everyone first and then drive to the next city. When Gojyo received his share he proclaimed that he would walk on his own since he was free to do what he pleased now and wanted some time for himself.

“But it’s ten miles!” Hakkai objected.

“I don’t mind. I just want some time for myself. Maybe I’ll find a horse somewhere which will get me there,” and laughing, Gojyo went off.

Later that evening we met at the cosiest cafe of that town. I was already sitting there when Gojyo arrived finally with the darkness. We exchanged looks, then he moved closer with his chair. I had already got rid of my Sanzo clothes and left them in my room so I was just wearing my leather pants and a plain black long sleeved shirt. I was alternating leather pants with jeans; when I grew tired of the one I wore the other, but I knew that he found the leather more pleasing. I was a pragmatist, I saw not more in those pants than a thicker layer of cover and protection from sword thrusts or the like.

No.

To be perfectly honest, I could see the thrill of it. Yet, I feared if I were fully aware of it I’d start wiggling my ass and squiggle from one place to the other only to tease him. It was sexier when I wasn’t aware of it and innocently walked around not wiggling my ass.

His hand was resting on my thigh already, stroking it lightly when I came back into reality with my mind.

I looked at him, smiling.

We spent the next few days mostly in bed, eating, drinking and smoking and going out in the evening. I had never had the chance to live a life like that, or even choose it. Some free time, some time off work...everyone was granted that who worked regular jobs, but my job wasn’t regular. On the other hand, that annoying, boring paperwork which I had taken care of for some time at Kinzan had just been killing me. Maybe the life on the road was what suited my character more, but I needed some space...some more time, less hurrying and pressing on all the time. In fact, the gods had never told me to hurry west. They had told me to go west. Or get to the west.

Maybe it was my own fault that we were pressing on all the time, always on the run.

But what was I running from?

Another day was bending towards the night and the sun had set already when I got up from the bed to have a piss. Gojyo had left a minute ago to ‘get something’. Whatever. However, it was not like I enjoyed the time alone still. I had been lonely for too long already and the thoughts I had when I was alone weren’t worth the time I wasted on them.

I was running from myself.

And currently, to the toilet; he had filled me up with coffee and tea the entire day and then had kept me from pissing.

I couldn’t hold back the sigh at the final release. He was such an idiot.

After having emptied myself I took a shower since we were planning to go out tonight again; we were catching up on what had not been possible while officially on the journey.

I lay down again with my hair still wet and unfolded the papers. Murders, rapes, explosions, death of kitties. Always the same, and though I read it every time anew. Not just once I had spared us some trouble that way when they had been waiting for us in the next city. I was tired of that shit.

An hour later, Gojyo entered the room and I looked up.

“You still in bed, you shit priest?” he shouted over and undressed himself. Then, with the bag in his hand he sprinted to the bed to fall down on it and me as well.

“Me too!” he shouted and rolled over, tickling my side so that I burst into involuntary laughter.

“Fucking stop!” I cried between the laughing fits, trying to reach for his ticklish spots as well but I found none. As he continued to torture me I wound myself out of his grip and escaped from the bed. While he was still perplexedly looking at me I took up position in front of the bed, crossing my arms.

His puzzlement at my impertinence to escape didn’t last long and he got up as well. While he had to take these three steps to reach me I couldn’t keep myself from looking down at his dick. I just had to when it wasn’t covered. He noticed and smirked, then kissed me on my lips.

Just while he was tenderly kissing me he hit my naked ass with his flat hand and I jerked, pain and confusion filling up my head entirely for some moments until I mentally returned again. He was standing in front of me, savouring the confusion, smirking bluntly.

When I could move again I turned around huffing and puffing, trying to exhale the stinging pain in my ass. I knew that he was looking at the spot which must have turned red already.

A long time ago I had agreed to that kind of shit. I had never made any pretence of not enjoying it, yet, of course, I had never openly shown the others that I did. I didn’t care about people who claimed that it was pathological and I didn’t want to reflect on where that might have come from. I could have trusted those simple, trivial ideas that it came from the traumas of my childhood, traumatic events which were everything but few and far between. An armada of ghosts was haunting me. But could I blame that for enjoying that kind of shit? I didn’t want to. After all, I enjoyed both sides, top and sub.

The pain which always used to be bitter in the beginning turned sweet finally. Pleasant warmth spreading and that feeling of increased sensibility let me indulge in it every time anew.

Damn cried I out when he grabbed my balls from behind.

He knew I hated that and I knew that he loved that - when he could prove me with such simple things that it was so easy to get me hard.

No, indeed, it was easy to get me hard when a tall man with red silk, blood red eyes and a dick like San Diego stood in front of me, naked. When I saw the flowers of his mind, when I saw the storms in his soul, when I saw the passion in his blood...it was easy to get me excited then.

He knew about that as well as I did.

“Suit or dress,” he asked, tracing down my back with his forefinger just until he arrived at that spot, and he was so close to it that I tried to-

“Mmaaaahh...”

It felt too good than to waste energy on trying to not consciously feel it with such a man. The more he saw me writhing and shaking under his touch, the more he was encouraged to continue. It was like a challenge to him, the moans he could draw from me, the most impossible moves, the loudest cries of pure lust and love - to which level could he rise it tonight; to which extent could he sweetly torture me so that I would finally fall down on my knees and beg him to fuck me, when would I reach that point this time...

His grip got tighter and I gasped, enraptured and benumbed by his intensity and I let my head fall back. His fingers touched the inside of my thighs, two still resting on my balls, gently stroking them, and I could feel my knees giving in, my cock standing to attention and twitching with joy.

How could he be so mean.

He hummed into my ear, and I could feel the red velvet on my cheek, softly caressing it and his darker velvet caressing my ear.

“I have to get dressed, I have....I have-“ his hand had fully engulfed my cock and pumped it softly now, “I, aaah...Gojyo, please...I...I have aaah...”

I was down on my knees, shaking, and he had gone down with me. Not enough that he had brought me down on my knees and begging so loudly already, but even that he had brought me down on all fours, panting louder than the noise coming from the street and shaking more terribly than any wind could shake a leaf.

He was so skilled.

Back and forth...his hand resting on my flank, strangely squeezing it, doubling the prickling sensation of pain and lust, scratching my skin raw, touching my blood, claiming me. His lips were on my skin, as much as I moved forth and back, as he stroked me so violently he just followed with his head, never missing out on one kiss, always catching it perfectly.

“Don’t...you...you’re so...fuckingshit”

He had paralysed my speech center.

Turned me into a primitive piece of flesh, craving only for more pulsating flesh, inside.

“Priest...what do you want?” he asked me in this honey-velvet voice, making me think of buttercups covered with chocolate. I loved him calling me that since it was the ultimate mockery. It was the smiling face with which I looked at the gods and thought ‘Fuck you’.

I groaned again, long, as he started rubbing only the tip of my cock while teasing me some more by greedily working on my asshole. How I hated it, to answer him now; but there was something inside which screamed for it, which just needed to speak.

“...more...”

It was so embarrassing, the moans which interrupted my speech, the sudden jerks which did not let me hold still anymore and the rhythmic moves which had long sent me into trance already. My head was swimming and singing.

“More of what, priest,” he whispered into my ear, then biting me hard so that I jerked again and cried out. It was so arousing, that man over me, his hard dick now pressed between my ass cheeks. He was teasing my nipples with his other hand, squeezing them much too violently and pulling on them.

I writhed in pain and lust under most passionate moans, honouring my milkmaid with a moan which could not have been more begging, and more desperate.

“What do you want, little kitty...” he said in that low, sneering voice while I could feel the smile in his face. More roughly, more intensely-

“Aaaaaoohgods, milk....I...ah”

This humiliation.

This begging.

This despair.

“I...I...ah”

Exactly the way I wanted it.

He had got me to arch my back, muscles tensed up to the extent they hurt, but it just turned me on like that, even the muscles of my neck so tense that my jaw hurt...his fingers moving so swiftly over my hard-on which was leaking already. His quick fingers had spread it all over the flesh so it was pleasantly slick.

“My. fucking. god. Please...”

I could not even say one sentence without letting him know how terribly aroused I was by his little game. His body was dripping wet, as wet as mine was, and he rubbed his belly against my back, drawing such tortured moans of lust from me as he knew I was enjoying this special thing so much. His hand worked hard on my genitals now, his other hand on my cheek, his fingers in my mouth, violently moving around, mercilessly.

His dick was rubbing against my ass so provocatively that I just reached for it and grabbed it tightly. I could feel the shiver of pleasure which went through his whole body and I straightened my back a little and with one smooth shove pushed it in. It drew another moan from me and him at the same time while I felt his dick parting my ass.

His breath hit my neck; it came unsteady. We stayed like that for some moments, each of us enjoying his own feelings and sensations and then he began to move.

And he rode me hard. He rode me like a piece of flesh, held together by just love and lust, a shaking form, moaning and screaming in blind delirium. Suddenly, he pressed his thumb on my tortured hard-on and I shot forward with my eyes and mouth wide open, lacking the air to scream and lacking the heartbeats to do something, anything. And there was tension, such tension building up inside...

His body, his velvet slick skin, pressed against mine, in me, becoming me, his face, so close to mine, so close, his tongue darting out to touch my cheek, but just his tip, his hot breath on my cheek, coming in such fits, huffing, in such passion, and so much hidden in that breath of that man, so much pleasure, so much love, so much craving, so much need, so much lust...tension...peaking...

“Goaahh..my...aaah...”

Close, close, so close, only once more back and forth, only-

I shot up in the air, clenching my asshole and delicately being reminded of his dick inside again. So tight, so good, feeling his mouth on mine, wet, hot, fierce, rough, with teeth and I screamed into his wet sanctuary at the top of my lungs, unbridled, so uncontrollably, because I knew I was safe with him, such white pleasure, moans, and he took them all, swallowed them all, reverberating in his body, and he rocked forward, holding my hips so tightly, claws digging into my skin, too many sensations at the same time...

He knew how to handle me then. Harder he rode me, giving me such harsh, purely lusty grunts that I doubled over, my head hitting the floor and again and again it did, moved by lust and moved by this rhythm which was connecting him with me, his fingers flexing, pain-

-hot inside, so hot, searing love, burning my insides, burning all the stains away, so pure, so hot, so alive-

-sunlight, blinding light...still he caressed my dick with such force that it seemed to never end for me, becoming painful already, crossing the line where it became painfully agreeable or agreeably painful, and I moved back with such force that I once again felt his balls slapping hard against my ass, back, until I sat in him and he sat in me, his arms wound round me so tightly, pressing the bodies together so that they became one single pulsating form of fleshly lust, his breath so hot and wet against my cheek, so strong, his muscles pressing against mine, almost a war, tight flesh against tight flesh, and still one quivering form, bound together by more than flesh, bound together by endless love, by the seeds of life, by the tight embrace of two souls of the same kind...

“Sanzo...” he gasped into my ear, still shaking too, and I responded, turning my head and roughly nudging his cheek with it, thanking him, begging for more of his attention although I had more of it than I could bear at the moment.

His ribcage was moving in such a way that I swayed forth and back as he was panting so hard still, but he kept hugging me, keeping me as close to him as possible.

I loved him so.

I turned my head a little more so I could reach his face. I kissed him on his lips, gently, sensually though, and he answered in a dark voice which he sent through me through his shaking lips, pressing his against mine, keeping my mouth open and shoving his tongue inside while moving his hands over my body, resting at some spots to caress them in such a loving way, then travelling further down, into my pubic hair, searching their way further down, both of his palms resting on my hairline between my navel and crotch, but only for a short moment, until his fingers had found the way through that blond copse...

The thought of him touching my limp dick now let me feel another thrill. And there they were, careful feelers, exploring my soft, moist earth, wet and warm from the rain still, the air above it cooling, and the sunlight keeping it from too much coldness.

I silently jerked forth into his touch, his hands hollow, only waiting for me to shelter it again, protecting it from the air and the sun, keeping it moist and damp...his fingers so lovingly gentle, closing over my soft treasure, protecting it.

Our tongues met again, and I was allowed to stay in his treasure cove, and I was curious, although I knew it so well already. My tongue invaded his sweet-tasting swamp, hastily, his white stones, so smooth, so dangerous, his wet tender spots, and I took his lip between my teeth and pulled on it – his fingers cramped up and let me feel indescribable sensations coming from my dick again.

I bit down harder and he buried his fingers deeper in that softness; harder, and deeper, harder, pain, blood, roughly, upset, agitated, pulling, and more, tasting the blood, the red blood of his soul, and he pressed his nails harder into my skin, sucking my blood, weakening me and I sucked his, pure, unspoiled, right from the well, and his fingertips bathed in it, washing away any guilt they had had on them, any badness, any failure, any ungodly...

I pushed forward with my mouth and sucked on his lips like a succubus, feeling the life in the red, craving for more of it and my hands shot up to hold his face. I stood the arousing pain as his shaking fingers worked their way through the flesh , coming to the core of the warm red. Harsh pants hitting my nose, and I gave them back, drunken with lust, drunken with closeness, drunken with life, and still I pressed on, keeping his head still as he attempted to turn his head away, his pants becoming shorter and shorter, harsher and harsher like his touch, painful and making me continue, though, holding on to the bruised flesh in the ecstasy of my soul, licking the life, the lust, the love, sucking on it, making it mine...

His breath, so hot, so intense, nasal sounds of pleas in them, so strongly, so desperately, so beseechingly, and they spurred me on so much to make them louder and more soulful, louder...his nails had gone through my skin, sending electric shocks of pain up and down my spine and paralysing any reason, if any still left, so I could cling to my well of love harder...despite his entire body shaking, despite his hand on my wrist, trying to pull it away from his head, despite his desperate moans; my lips clung to his, and I closed my eyes, indulging in this delirium of sweet bitterness, moans already coming from my nose too and both of us met and mingled, became one-

-cold air fell down on me, claimed my body and I entered a shock state-

slow

losing

absence

He was panting harshly in front of me, blood running down his chin and dripping on his arm, his face a mess of perplexity, disorientation, panic and shock, so shocked; his eyes wide open. He was shaking terribly.

I closed my eyes and lifted my head to breathe deeply to come down from this again.

He shut his eyes tightly, rubbed them, then wiped the sweat off his forehead. He nervously cleared his throat and brought his hand up to his mouth, feeling for the bruises of love.

As I watched him I noticed that his fingers were blood-smeared as well. It finally reminded me of my own bruises and I looked down, only to find a red mass and mess there. I could not bring myself to care about it though; I quickly looked up at him again and could just watch him arranging his self again. He swallowed and looked at me again.

Dark. Filled with such darkness. Such dark lust.

I had satisfied him.

“The dress,” he said hoarsely, giving me such a possessive, dark look that I instantly felt reminded where my place was.

I clenched my teeth at the deliberate humiliation and pressed a ‘Kay’ through my teeth.

“Fine. You know your place,” he said and almost hissed the last word. But gods, just having come for an eternity, and he turned me on already again. No one else but he was my owner. I was his. Flesh and soul. Blood and bone.

He tried to get up; I could see which difficulties he had with that. His arms were shaking under the weight of his body, and his legs could barely carry him as he finally had managed to get up as gracefully as possible.

He was gasping for air, and he was about to stagger; I could tell from the look of his eyes that he was seeing stars...or maybe entire universes, taking into account how challenged and weak he must have been at that moment.

It made me lower my head and smile a dark smile in secrecy.

“You’re mine,” I whispered with a raspy voice, telling him that not only I was owned but the owner was always owned too.

He shook his mane into acceptable shape and tried to keep his mind and bones together. Then, I suppose, with all the strength he could summon at this moment, he took two steps towards me, and for a moment it looked like he was going to pass me...

...as he suddenly kicked me hard into my side and I doubled over, paralysed by the pain; coughing and gasping.

Yes, I deserved that.

I deserved all the love he gave me.

As I moved my head in pain I caught a glimpse of his face and I saw that he was smiling the same dark smile before it got hidden by his hair as he left the place of rebirth to get dressed; pleased, satisfied, milked and content.

After some more moments, just until I had managed to deal with the shock in some way, I was finally able to bring my hand to my side, pressing it against it to try stop the pain. I was feeling so weak already, so spent, and I knew that the evening would be going to be even more exhausting, and I could not need that additional pain...

However, if he thought that I deserved it and that it was just right for me then I’d take it. His wish was my command.

Fine, but I needed to get dressed too.

He wanted a dress for tonight.

He wanted that quite often, in fact. I could not really see why he liked me so much in dresses. Once, when I had been without partner, I had tried that out.

“Fag”, they had called me, “slut”. I had been deeply hurt and hurried home, throwing the dress on the floor, crying in my misery, crying all the make-up off.

I was so fragile, so vulnerable. Even more so in that dress. I could not understand why they had called me these names. Did a man wearing a dress equal a whore? They seemed to believe so. Of course I knew about the wandering ladymen with their long fingernails and long hair.

I had to admit I quite adored them, how they lived their lives. Independent and the way they liked it simply. Surely, they must have had to bear those names too as I had had to bear them, but they did not seem to despair so easily.

I was weak. Shattered already, and any additional bad experience tore at my nerves, more, more...until I had had a nervous breakdown finally one day.

I could remember that horror so well. Lying on the floor, shaking, crying so hard, sounds coming from my mouth which I could not control, panting so harshly, on the way to hyperventilate, gagging, sweating, and trembling so terribly. It hurt my mind, the way that happened. Feeling myself writhing on the floor, feeling my own saliva on my cheek and bathing in my own piss mingled with the dirt there...

It made me swallow hard still. And I tried to suppress any memories of that as well as I could.

It was a piece of madness. I had got to know that a certain kind of madness lived in me too.

I cleared my throat in uneasiness and attempted to get up to forget that incident as quickly as possible again.

Pathetic, how I tried four times to get up on all fours at least. But I felt so weak, so spent. He had sucked the life out of me as much as I had feasted on his.

The only difference between me and him was that he usually recovered more quickly. And mostly to his advantage. He’d come back to me then and tease me all the more until I could not lift even a finger anymore. He regularly turned me into a half dead man.

Died of lust, would have been the diagnosis.

And he always smirked this beautiful smile when he left me like that then. Wherever. Whether on the bed, on the chair or on the floor.

He’d leave me then to watch me, desperately, and mostly, in vain getting up, collecting my thoughts again which were scattered on the floor.

And when I complained that my lips were so dry, well, he also knew how to help that.

Forcing my mouth open, some quick shoves, some good tortured moans from me as he uncomfortably squeezed my nipples, forcing the moans from me, and gods help me if I should dare bite his dick then...

Once I had done that. And then never again. Gojyo was a pro. At almost everything. He also knew how to handle a rebellious bitch then too.

Anyway, some violent thrusts into my mouth that I gagged and I got my milk so my lips would not feel so dry anymore.

And then he left me even more spent and begging.

I was just about to tell him how dry my lips felt, just to test him, just to exhaust him some more too when I noticed that queasy feeling. And I abandoned my idea. He should not -carry- me there in the dress. I also still had some fucked pride in me which told me that I should -walk- and not spend the way in his arms, limbs dangling from them and smiling like a wicked one.

Still coughing and fighting against the sick feeling in my stomach and the bitter darkness in the back of my mouth which let me know that I was close to fainting I got up in the end, somehow, however.

I planned to leave the room to get to the cupboards we had filled with dresses, but as I realized what a long long way this would be for me in my current pathetic state I despaired. He’d punish me for not making it to the cupboards and into the dress on time. Turning my head I could watch him getting dressed already.

So quickly he had recovered...or he just managed to keep his parts together more well than I did. After all, he was half of a demon. Disappointing, if he had not recovered a little from it already.

I sighed and felt the kick into my other side already.

“What,” he shouted towards me, his body partially hidden by the mirror, “does the kitty limp...”

Such a sneering, gleeful voice.

He had paid me back in kind.

Beautiful mean bastard.

I wanted to show him how the kitty limped, fuck him, sometimes he just made me feel so pleasantly annoyed. So just to protest I took two steps towards him and froze instantly then.

How. Fucking. Much. My balls hurt.

I could feel the blood running down the insides of my thighs, warm...clammy already as it went towards the hollow of my knee.

A kind of pain I had never experienced before.

Logically, since no one had ever dug his nails into my cock and balls like that before.

But, there were so many “since no one had ever’s”’ with Gojyo. He was quite special. He knew no shame, no taboos, no ‘impossible’.

“Would you like to have my chocolate, actually?” he once had asked me. We were sitting at the café, enjoying the morning sun, holding hands and sharing a big cappuccino. His eyes riveted on me to absorb any motion or wink I’d make. And I was totally perplexed. His chocolate -what-. Which chocolate? He did not eat chocolate that often; actually, I couldn’t remember him eating choc in my presence ever at all. So what was that about ‘my chocolate’?

I stared at him. Then I shook my head a little and said, detachedly, “Which chocolate.”

He raised his hand and mine too, kissed it, then held it against his cheek and smiled, and shrugged his shoulder, “My chocolate.”

He kissed my fingers again. His lips felt so soft on my skin, so careful, and full of love what he did.

“With whipped cream, if you like, on top, and a sea of milk.”

Within one second I had realized what he had meant...and I turned my head away to hide the shock in my eyes. But I got hold of myself quickly again and I gave him a more less shocked expression, but still eyeing him attentively. Another kiss on my hand, and another beautiful smile.

I took a deep breath. Since I really had to think about it. Would I like to have his chocolate? Would that turn...me on...gods...

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely audible as it was so tinted with pleasure and desire.

He gave me an even more beautiful smile, this time involving his whole face, his eyes calling on these so gorgeous wrinkles round the corners, and his lips bringing along some more around them. That was what he looked like when he was truly happy. This seasoned face, and these beautiful wrinkles. They got my sun to shine inside me too and so I had to join him in this smile, feeling my heart bursting with joy and love.

“Okay,” he said softly and nudged my fingers with his nose, “I’ll be careful, I promise...”

I still remembered that smile at that moment. And it made me smile now too. Fortunately, he just could not see me then. A marvellously grotesque picture: I was standing in the middle of the room, legs spread, and my cock bleeding on...since obviously, he had just clipped some more or less important vein. Happily, I took another step and was abruptly reminded that I were not to take steps right now until my poor thing was not wrapped up in sexy white bandages. I growled, angry that he had managed to make me so...helpless again.

But I did not truly feel bad when I was helpless in his presence. I trusted him enough to allow myself to be helpless. I knew he protected me and watched over me.

Such a gentleman.

“Yah the kitty does fucking limp,” I screamed back finally, my voice sounding annoyed.

I could hear him snorting in glee again.

“I’ll have to help her dress, so that the shit priest one will be on time, yes? Poor little thing. So waaasted now,” he stretched that word just to tease me.

“Yeah, wasted...” I murmured, annoyed, “get your fucking gentleman ass here and take care of what you’ve wasted!” I called towards him, imperiously.

If he had beaten me so brutally with his words I would have to show him where his place was as well. Also if he was the one clearly dominating now. But still. A king had his place too. Had to have.

It took him some time probably to process these words and truly realize this inappropriate cheekiness of his slave right now. But, I could see his head appearing from behind the cupboard door, his long, red water falling over his shoulders and crowning him as my mostly preferred dandy number one.

“Fucking gentleman ass,” he noted, raising his eyebrow.

And I tried to appear as defiant as I just could now. And I DAMN well saw how he tried to keep back the smirk, as he saw me standing there in this way, so bruised and though sulking.

“YEAH!!!” I screamed, fully annoyed now at his teasing behaviour.

He narrowed his eyes.

A few moments passed.

Then, he appeared from behind the mirror, smirking in a slightly sheepish way while keeping his eyes narrowed which made him look like a pathological sadist.

Slowly, with small steps, he came walking towards me, his hair flying in the dark of the night.

“I will take care of what I wasted.”

His smirk got even darker, and his eyes turned into dots of black, like materialized darkness, seamed by shimmering dark red.

His hand touched my upper arm, and I immediately bowed down, robbed of my will, robbed of my reason, robbed of my awareness.

Dark, it came into me. Soft.

Like red velvet.

________________

Somehow, I had managed to get that snakeskin over my body and somehow, I had managed to stumble to the bar with that perversion of ‘shoes’. Not just once I had twisted my ankle on that bumpy street with Gojyo snorting with laughter every single time. Well, it was also because I had never worn such fucked up boots for longer than ten minutes yet. Smiling grimly, I came to the conclusion that everyone who deliberately wore that shit deserved the pain which went along.

Eventually, we made it to the bar where we ordered drinks and sat down. Thank the gods. It was an average bar with red tapestry and a small stage where some women were acting or dancing or whatever to the sound of a piano and harp.

I quickly glanced at Gojyo.

He was enjoying his drink, nipping it with such passion that I wished to be at the end of that straw. I couldn’t stand looking at him without claiming him so I turned a little to the side and lifted my leg to teasingly put it over his thigh.

And I watched him closely. As soon as my thigh touched his I could feel his muscles tensing and his neutral expression changing into a smirk while he was still staring into his drink.

For one moment it seemed to me that this had been it since he turned to passionate sucking again.

However, his other hand snuck under the dress and he pushed it off my thigh. Warm air...I could feel the warm evening breeze coming in from outside.

His hand stroked my skin gently, up and down, tracing along my muscles, rubbing the tender skin of his man in disguise...just until he did not move downwards anymore as I would have expected him to, but upwards.

And what he encountered was nothing.

No resistance.

I only wore a pink string which was easy to move aside. Yet, the pleasure was limited...I could not feel his fingers on the sore spots of which he had taken good care before. But it was Gojyo who was my lover and he acted accordingly, living up to my expectations: He made sure to add more pressure to his touch when he felt the bandages under his fingers and I moaned with pleasure until I became aware of where we were again.

“Gojyo!” I hissed, trying to tell him with my voice that we were not just in some sluthouse there. I had terrible memories connected with dresses.

But that did not really bother him.

“Bloom for me, my rose,” he slurred, stroking my thigh more roughly. I did not even need to look down at it to tell that he was hard again. But if he was going to keep teasing me like that and calling me that name I’d join the game. I hit his hand hard, pushed it away and arrogantly turned my head away.

He gave me a pathetic, disappointed growl, putting his finger on the verge of my cup and rubbing it. Understanding his metaphor instantly, I took the mug to kiss it.

And not him.

Misbehaving bastard.

While I passionately kissed the cup I thought of kissing the tip of his dick and my own happily jumped at that image. I loved him deeply. Every move, every gaze, every letter.

I put the cup down and sighed, lost. My eyes went wide as I felt his lips closing round my lobe.

“Would you fly to get us your cock ring...shushuuu,” he sang to me in a low, soft voice.

For nothing I would have left him more readily than for that. Without questioning anything I immediately got up, kissed him good bye for some minutes and rushed off with a big smile on my face.

“Hey, don’t let any fucker touch that sweet ass!” he shouted as I was about to leave the pub; and he shouted across the room so everyone could hear it.

It gave me blushed cheeks. But I enjoyed getting humiliated by him so much.

Hurrying as much as I could with those femme killer boots I scuttled along, thinking of what he’d do with me once the metal was in his hands.

It took me quite a while to get to our room finally. It was rather far away from the pub, and the stilettoes kept me from taking normal steps.

Up then, quickly up the stairs, in, rummaging around in that drawer for the piece of metal, quickly to the bath, refreshing the lipstick and rouge, putting my hair back in shape, putting on some more perfume, and out again, locking the door, pulling up my dress, down the stairs and towards the pub again.

It must have taken me more than thirty minutes, that midnight journey. But I did it with joy; I knew what was waiting for me when I had behaved and followed his command.

When I could see the lights of the pub again I slowed down, ran my fingers through my hair again, by now even a little nervous and excited already. I would prolong it. So I took the few steps up to the porch of the pub where also a few people were sitting and enjoying their drinks and the music and Ieaned against the wooden wall, elegantly, of course, and fished for a smoke.

Lighting it, and the first moments of the rush in my lungs made me close my eyes in satisfaction and pleasant anticipation.

I planned to let him wait for another thirty minutes for the meanness he had presented me some hours ago. So I enjoyed my ciggies, and entered the pub after twenty minutes, smirking and looking for Gojyo.

He was not sitting at the bar anymore and I could see him nowhere. But that did not let me panic. I knew his weird ideas so I went to the bartender and simply asked him where the man with the long, red hair had gone. Simple, since no one else wore his hair red if he could avoid it somehow. Child of taboo, knowing no taboos.

The man told me that he had gone upstairs, and that he had paid for a room for tonight.

And that let me brighten up even more. One night there, the anonymity and champagne through the entire night till the sun would kiss us hello again.

I flounced up the stairs and just stopped in front of the room with the number the man had told me. Trying hard to calm down and keep some of this bright smile to myself to not give him too much of it, I spent another minute there.

Then I opened the door and stepped in.

Then my smile dropped to the floor.

I froze.

A wave of heat washed over me.

I stumbled backwards, paralysed.

My back hit the wood hard; I sprained my ankle as the high heel slid to the side.

Coldness...such coldness.

Gojyo stared at me from the bed, shocked, his fingers still on that pussy.

My heart beat in my throat, my lips were shaking.

...and the pain kept me from breathing.

He closed his mouth and straightened his back, staring at me like a beaten dog then.

“Gojyo,” I whispered, and my voice failed me.

He stood up on the bed and stepped down, shaking the mattress with that and blue eyes looked daggers at me from between the sheets...illuminated by the lamp next to the bed.

He took a step towards me but I immediately pressed my body against the door in shock.

His dick was semi-hard, and just then it occurred to me that he had had it buried in her ass.

Again he attempted to approach me, but by everything which was sacred to me...I did not want to touch one hair of him now. My brain bowed out of the situation and my instincts took over; hastily I opened the door again and rushed down the stairs, everything happening in a terribly automatic way.

Out of the pub, just out and away.

Just in the middle of my way back to our house I noticed my burning ankle, but I did not give a shit about it anymore. Petty things.

More quickly, staring straight at the darkness in front of me, more quickly...

Unlocking the door, which I consciously did not even perceive, up the stairs...shutting and locking the door...and breaking down...breaking...

I sank to the floor, weeping so bitterly, tearing the dress from my body. The metal fell down on the floor, clinking and rolling away into the darkness. I tore the earrings from my lobes, not aware of the pain at all...I destroyed my hairstyle which had taken me ages to create...and there I was...naked, on the floor; hurt, hurt to an extent which was beyond human speech.

Writhing in the dirt in pain, cries of agony which the darkness just absorbed...hitting my head against the floor to hurt me, more pain...pain, to deal with it...

My soul aged from a ripe plum to a squishy, putrescent brown form, rotting. Dying.

I cried out in pain again, tearing at my hair in blind rage, wishing to pull it out and throw it away...scratching my naked skin to draw blood, to rip it open and let the dirty blood flow from it.

Every inch of my body felt like waste, like rotting, stinking flesh. Burnt, eaten away by sulphur fumes, and I wished it had been like that for real.

The cries turned into screams. It hurt so. Unbearable. It hurt so fucking much. Panting harshly, I got up in a second at a sudden impulse and ran to the dresser where we stored our things to get me my knife. Tears blurred my vision, and I almost stumbled on the way but I took it and went to the bed in my delirium, reached under it, opened the bottle and poured the absinthe down my throat. My body refused it, the green liquid forced into it in such a violent way. Bitter shit, helping every and any problem.

And so it did now too. Until I had emptied the bottle I could feel the typical side effects of too strong alcohol already. I snorted, panting in blind frenzy, staring at the darkness outside.

Why.

I hated him so.

The humiliation.

A beautiful bird in his bed, and a pathetic version of a woman entering, baring her soul...the humiliation...

Perfect make-up on perfect, golden skin; perfect long eyelashes, perfect long nails, in red or black; the perfect shape, perfect big breasts, the perfect wet treasure chest...the humiliation...and I stood there with my unshaven legs, a naked cock under that dress, large male hands, and my face so different from hers...the humiliation...

He had betrayed me, fooled me...for how long already? For how long had that been going on behind my back already? When he told me I was the only one for him, and other women or men he did not even notice?

And he fucked them so bluntly, so recklessly.

I thrust the knife into my wrist as forcefully as I could and it seemed enough...and though I kept shoving it in and in again, the pain making me numb inside, joining the white terror in my soul.

Enough red...such red, his eyes, his hair...I threw the knife away, lifted my hand and pressed my lips against the gaping wound and swallowed, drinking my own blood.

The alcohol fully kicked in now and in that mix of lethal drunkenness and physical shock I could feel my heart beating like a drum again. It got so warm around me...I was not naked anymore...

In the distance, I could hear something, some noise but I did not bother...I’d not need to bother about anything anymore in some moments.

Warm red darkness, lying down on me like a soft, woolly blanket. I sighed and closed my eyes. My wrist slid from my lips, and it kept warming my chest...my belly...my penis...my thighs...my head was spinning and I felt sick. A terrible, most terrible noise in the distance. A thunderstorm.

Darkness carried me away on its violent wings.

_____________________

There was something.

Something.

Indefinable.

But there was something.

And something meant that I was still too.

And it brought tears to my burning eyes.

As they streamed down my cheeks I got aware that I was lying somewhere.

I opened them quickly.

Clinical white.

I took a deep breath.

A load of tubes going from somewhere to into my body, at various parts, but most of them into the back of my right hand.

Just gross.

Bags with a transparent liquid inside around me, some tubes going from that to my hand.

I wanted to kill the idiot with a bullet between his eyes who had brought me there in fucking time.

Red in front of my face, big eyes, full luscious lips.

And I got my next shock; I jerked back and cried out in panic, wishing to be away from this creature, away, just away

“GO AWAY!!! LEAVE, GO AWAY!!!” I screamed hoarsely and as loudly as I could, then my brain left me again and just agonized screams shattered the white silence.

And he looked shocked and immediately moved away from me, taking a few steps back, almost stumbling in his terror.

Men rushed into the room; like bees they flew around me, looking, doing, something...and he was forced to leave the room...tubes, bags...pain...more cries...HELL, it was HELL...

“GO AWAY!!!” I screamed at them, jumping to my feet, taking the tubes with me and metal hitting the floor with an awful noise, hands on my arms and legs, pulling on them, screaming. I tried to shake them off, but they thrust me into the mattress with such force that I failed to breathe for some moments. But I wanted to get away from there, die, just fucking DIE, why did they not let me, wasn’t it my right?!

“JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME!!!”

More men in there, overcrowded, pressing my arms and legs and torso into the mattress, holding me down, fixing my head, more quarrelling, yells, and I collected all my strength to kick and hit anyone I could reach but they kept me down with more force until...just until I felt some pricks in my neck and leather round my wrists and ankles. And always, always they made sure they did not hurt my wounded wrist more than necessary, but it was bleeding again anyway. Red blots forming on the white of the bandage, blood seeping down my arms.

I knew they would take care of it and neatly bandage it again.

When they had thrown me down again I realized how sick I felt, how sick I must have felt while screaming at them but the wrath had just been stronger then. My entire body was pulsating, too much blood for too tight veins. It left my head swimming and my limbs aching. Everything was aching. I had to blink several times to see sort of clearly again...something was blurring my vision.

Suddenly, my guts cramped up and I attempted to sit up and gag but the leather kept me down. Coughing and desperately trying to ignore the urge to throw up I squirmed and writhed under the bonds, tears running down my cheeks again from half suppressing the gross urge and half giving in to it.

As they finally realized that I was not faking the terror which really was seizing me they freed one arm and I immediately sat up, my other wrist still held down tightly by the cuff. An awful mix of rough coughing and trying to get rid of something which was not there anymore set in and I bent my back in agony. I meant to suffocate. And all those fuckers were standing around me and watching and just talking and calling in a muddle. Traitors. Assholes.

“Aaaaggch...”

I felt like dying. Closing my eyes and completely giving in to these heaves I prayed for the end of this all. There was so much to get rid of, so much dirt inside, so much pitch black-tar, so much ill-smelling mud.

Saliva dropped down from my chin; I could not stop it. Holding my belly with the free hand I bent forward again and the liquid transparency formed a small string, from my lips to the sheets. Again, I felt such humiliation seizing me, and it only served to make me gag harder.

And there I arrived at a point where I did not crave for this all to end anymore. Where I stopped caring. Where I was wondering whether this would go on forever on this bed till I simply passed out or whether I’d be saved by anyone or-

I found my chin between two strong hands, as well as my shoulders and my free hand. As I saw them approaching me with another needle, as I got aware that I was just to get another injection I flailed about as much as I could again but my strength left me too soon. The first attacks had beaten my system down already and the strength from my newly flared up rage was dying away already. Still trying to disgorge the pain and dirt in my soul I gave a tortured moan and held still as well as I could.

When it was done, they forced me to lie down, fixed my arm again and then took care of the chaos around the bed. The urge to gag had dwindled, but I felt so sick...

Bags refilled, needles put back into me, pills washed down my throat, sweat wiped from my forehead...fingers brushed over my cheek...and I panicked.

Such a horrible fit of fear rushed from my brain to my toes...and I could not move. I was totally spent, I could not even lift my hands anymore.

Paralysed, I lay there, standing all those procedures, more hands on my body. My breath came slowly and calmly but inside I was living through hell. Hands...hands...and I could do nothing, I wished to push them away, to leave, to crouch in a dark corner...but the light shone down on me mercilessly.

Those hands knew no mercy either and the things they put into me felt like daggers, ripping my soul apart...the parts at least which were still left.

It was an unbearable horror to stand this, to be so helpless, so left...by everything. The only thing which worked still was my mind. Unfortunately.

I wailed with sore distress...but they ignored it.

A sigh escaped me...I closed my eyes and gave up. Over my whole body, over my whole soul. What of it was mine still? They claimed everything. He my soul and they my body. What was still left for me...?

I had lost everything.

Minutes, feeling like eternities passed...and then I was given back my body.

But I could accept it no more.

Voices talked insistently to me, calm, soft tones, melodies, supposed to calm and pull me back into what they considered ‘reality’, but I could not listen. My ears were singing, my heart exploding with every beat, and my soul dying, every moment anew. I did not want to listen to them anymore, I refused, I denied everything.

The stench...the noise the rotting made...the pain...tears again...groans of pain and despair again...I could finally turn my head and I saw the red-haired dandy standing in the door frame.

I let him see my pain to the max, staring into his eyes in the distance...and even if millions of good angels had smiled at me and told me to smile, I could not...my soul was dying away.

He saw my gritted teeth, he saw my tears, he saw me fighting against the leather bonds still which tied me to the bed.

...and he watched as my efforts grew weaker, my screams fainter...until it stopped and I cried my eyes out in silence. Moaning still when I felt strong enough for it and he watched, and tears ran down his cheeks in silence as well.

I attempted to lift my arm again to reach for him, begging, crying, pleading.

It soon sank down again; I was too weak for that.

He bent his head and pursed his lips to try to hold back more tears. As he looked up again he had his lips pressed together and his tears rolling down his cheeks all the more. One of the men went towards him and accompanied him outside but he didn’t leave without taking one last look at me.

The drugs and the leather kept me down.

Otherwise I would have taken a needle and rammed it into my wrist again, thousand and thousands upon thousands of times...

________________

The time I spent there was short, but seemed to me like a month. It was an old building, quite small, actually, just like all the other houses in that town. Not very inviting with its wooden walls and small rooms, not very suitable for its actual purpose at all. Yet, it seemed to me that it rarely was used for that purpose anyway. I was occupying a small room with a bed, a cupboard and a window. Not to forget: a sofa and a chair. At daytime as well as at nighttime I stayed in my room. I wasn’t interested much in walking around or leaving; I didn’t care at all.

I just knew that there was someone else living there, but I never saw that person. It seemed like madness living in those corridors, illness, death.

Once more I had tried to end my life, but it was impossible there. Too soon someone had found me again, and we were back to the leather and injections.

After that, I gave it up. I gave up.

Walking around in my room like a panther with a broken will, looking outside the big window, lying around on the sofa. Breakfast at 8, lunch at midday, dinner at 7. And between that, endless hours of doing nothing and some talking. Being supposed to talk, but there was nothing to talk about. As many questions he asked, as many versions of the same thing he thought up, they were clear to me and didn’t need to be explained to him. One day only he visited me, next day it would be three when he was afraid of me turning violent.

Dangerous madness lurked in the corridors.

My ash fell down to the floor wherever it fell down; they had soon realized they could not tame me...like they had done it with that other poor bastard in the room next to me.

The shower gel I had in the small cabin was for children, no tears. Which creatures must have lived here with that doctor that they had to have that kind of gel.

When I saw one of those outside my room I stayed there and let him pass. I had no interest in him, and even less in his madness.

I conformed to some rules, as it was necessary, since I did not want to end tied up again but I did not stick to all. I did not want to end like that creature.

On a Wednesday someone came to me during breakfast and told me there was someone waiting for me in my room.

I almost swallowed the spoon.

Such panic claimed me then that I was not able to get anything down my throat anymore. Who should be waiting for me. I had no one who’d wait for me, except the whore.

I knew that if I prolonged that now it would only get worse. As I left the breakfast room that guy from the staff told me he’d wait outside the door, if anything delicate should happen. He’d not listen, he promised, but he also said he could not promise to not enter when he’d feel something was going wrong inside.

I could not get him to fuck off, so I had to accept it.

Anyway, he could at least pick me up from the floor when he’d turn violent and beat the shit out of me.

So I walked towards my room with him. I did not hesitate to open the door. Staring at the floor, I entered, and left the guy standing in front of the door.

When I finally looked up I found him sitting by the window, staring outside. He was wearing leather pants and a belly top in black. If I imagined him walking down roads like that I felt an explosion of jealousy and possessiveness in my soul. Though. Still.

And he had got his hair cut a little. It ended above his shoulders, and it looked nicely feathery. I wondered which whore had told him that she’d find him pretty like that.

He turned finally to look at me too, then he got up. When he took a few steps towards me I felt the heat on my cheeks.

His sole appearance was threatening but his look was steady and calm, but serious.

We stood there for some moments, looking at each other, sizing up each other.

I must not have looked sexy to him in those black jeans and simple brown shirt. Not really. He had better whores with decent breasts and short skirts.

“How are you?” he asked with a breathy voice.

I stared at him for some more moments until I finally replied. Licking my lips, I thought about what to tell him now.

The impulse took my will and made me look down while I said in a low voice, “How should I feel...”

Those words made him look at the floor in embarrassment.

Gojyo was not the man to behave this way. He was never caught off-guard, one could barely take him by surprise. But it was about the deep shit now. Feelings.

“Why,” I asked in disinterest.

He looked up and stared at me with big eyes.

He did not know what to say. I could feel it.

The suspense of this situation made me weepy. I loved him so much, and I felt so hurt by him. I wanted nothing more but to walk up to him and embrace him tightly and cry. But the pain kept me from it.

Suddenly, he was walking towards me; I could see his eyes filled up with tears. And he spread out his arms to embrace me.

Such blind panic went through me like a bolt of lightning and I pushed his hands away so forcefully that both of us were shocked. And within one second I could watch the sky falling. His expression turned into one of open rage while he still looked deeply hurt. When Gojyo got hurt he fought back with more fierceness and cruelness.

Some seconds later I found myself thrown against the wall by the terrible impact of a slap.

Now my tears flowed unrestrainedly while I gritted my teeth. I took a step away from the wall and screamed at him what the fuck he actually wanted from me. Appearing there, after he had shown to me that he could have ANY other whore in this world and DID have them, and then expecting me to fall into his arms with love.

I did love him.

I did love him so awfully much.

It took me some moments to return to reality when I had entered this world of intense grief again. Loving him so much.

But he did not give me much time anyway. He reached towards me again, and again I pushed his hand away, more feebly this time, weak, hurt, but he immediately gripped my wrist and I howled with pain. The cuts had been too deep to heal so quickly. Besides, I also made sure they’d heal very slowly, doing just everything to keep them open.

He looked puzzled then and loosened his grip. With his other hand he brushed over my cheek, suddenly looking so horribly lost too, suffering from reality and wishes.

I could feel tears running down my cheek again so I turned away, shouting at him to fuck off.

And the wheel turned again and I got to bear the brunt of his anger. And how could I, when he was caring so much about me, how could I, heartless bitch, tell him to fuck off then?

But it was not me who had destroyed everything.

Though, of course, his grip tightened again and I wailed with pain.

“Why are you so fucking selfish?!!” he screamed, so loudly that I closed my eyes and turned my head.

“GODDAMN LOOK AT ME!!!” he complained, gripped my chin and violently turned my head to look at him.

The blood was rushing through my veins in a painful way; it was so disturbing...

“Let go...” I begged in a weepy voice, feeling so wretched.

“Gods, pull yourself together, Hakkai and Goku are waiting for you! What shall I tell them? What the fuck shall I tell them?”

I wasn’t aware of my mouth still being open and I must have been a pretty dumb sight but I just couldn’t get it all together in my head. I was terribly overchallenged.

His grip tightened. It was an unbearable situation for me and suddenly I wished that guy would finally enter. But he’d think some screaming would happen in any case and thus was not that alarming.

“Why did you do this shit?!” he yelled, tightening his grip on my wrist.

I squirmed, wishing to get away from him, to free myself from that grip, but he didn’t care. He wanted to know the truth. Just as I wanted to know it.

But I was weak. Shattered.

“Cause I was desperate,” I wailed, feeling the pain of that day returning, “Please let go...”

“You wanted to fucking KILL yourself, you egoistic asshole!”

The words he barked at me hurt. There was nothing which could have made me feel more hurt, more distressed.

“I didn’t...I am not...please...”

And with a blurred vision I looked up at him and whispered that I loved him, more tears pressing forth. I was down and out. I had trampled on my pride, shoved any artificial arrogance aside and given up, simply telling him what I was feeling at the core of my heart.

His reaction was a nightmare. He gritted his teeth.

“That’s why you did it?! That’s fucking why you DID IT?!”

He pushed me away from him and slapped me again. I immediately brought my hands up to my face to protect it from his wrath, but he pulled me close again and shouted at me that my egoism was just breathtaking. I burst into a crying and screaming fit and hit and thrashed around.

But what were my weak hands against his tiger paws.

I had to take several hits and kicks until my knees gave in and I went down under our screams. By now, as loudly as I could, I was screaming for help.

And the door went open immediately and I saw another pair of legs and then silence. I looked up from the floor and saw two men holding him still, the doctor standing next to me and already bending down to help me up.

There was the need for some more words. Both of us knew that.

I stared at the floor, trying to calm down while I could hear him panting still. I couldn’t look him in the eyes...until he started talking.

“All that shit because of nothing,” he panted.

My head shot up and got filled with rage this time.

“What? You call that nothing?!”

“You misunderstand. Let me-“

“Fuck you,” I screamed with such passion that I almost doubled over again despite the man’s support, “just leave the fuck!”

He pressed his teeth together and finally shook off the arms of my helpers. Then he straightened his back, threw his hair out of his face and pulled up his pants some more.

“Fine, I’m leaving,” he hissed, his eyes gleaming.

It hit me hard. He didn’t just mean that he was leaving the room. And although I had been knowing that all the time since I had seen him with that woman – now voiced, so directly, finally, it was another dagger in my soul. The rage with which he was piercing me, his thoughts about me, the way he was thinking about me...it let me feel excruciating pain.

He was panting still, his hair a mess, his lip bleeding and several scratch marks just about to start bleeding. The only true weapon on which I could rely were my nails. But what was scratching against hits. I certainly looked worse.

Two cats, fighting for the thing between them. Fighting for love. Clawing out each other’s eyes.

“Don’t...” I whimpered, feeling this connection still glowing so fiercely, feeling such love still, such fears, intense fears of loss...

“It’s enough already! I can’t stand your fucking self-seeking, childish ways! I wanted to explain myself, I wanted to give you love, I even wanted to goddamn embrace and kiss you! What do I get?! Rejection!“

“YOU rejected ME!” I screamed in my pain, wasting all my strength for this.

“What? Irejected you? Gods you are so selfish, don’t you see that? I’m always the criminal with you, right? And you’re the poor victim, no?! I’m fucking SICK of this! It’s always the same with you! Everyone’s the abuser with you, and you are the poor victim! Can’t you see that I am the victim? How you hit me, how you kicked me? I wanted to give you LOVE and you hit me for that!”

It let my heart froze, what he said. It felt so different to me. The untruth he uttered there, and that I was the selfish one...I could not reply anything to this anymore.

I stood it, under tears. I just listened to him, receiving the stabs in silence, my strength having left me.

“You’re the innocent one, cause you’re the Sanzo, yes?! And the others are just DIRT with you, no? That dirty half-breed, that stupid child, yeah? Just fuck you, this arrogance and conceit. Yeah, we all know what you are, and thank you that you deemed me worthy enough of being your lover!!!”

I was only looking at the floor anymore. I could not look him in the eyes anymore. It hurt so much.

“The great Sanzo, yeah, slashing his wrists. It’s disappointing.”

My knees gave way and I slumped down, and the guy even had troubles keeping me up. I wanted to leave this room. Just away. Away. I could not stand this man in my presence anymore, the rage he exuded, the pain which arrived at me.

Crushed, humiliated and hurt I stared at the floor, my eyes narrow, filled with tears.

“I think it’s enough,” the guy whispered into my ear, asking me what I wanted to do now, what my wishes were now as for this situation.

I feebly nodded and looked up for one last time to see this man I loved so much. He was looking at me with narrow eyes until he closed them tightly, rubbed them and opened them again.

Wet.

Then he walked past me and lightly, almost unnoticeably, brushed over my shoulder with his fingers.

And then he was gone.

I sighed...released my tears...and passed out..

_________________

The next days I had spent in paralysis. Numb, cold. Depressed.

Just living. Just feeling my heart beating.

However, slowly, I learned how to keep up a certain facade again. It was necessary; otherwise I’d have had more needles somewhere again, more fucking talks, more goddamn pills.

So then, a few days later, when he found me stable enough again, I got to know what would follow after this. He told me that he had talked to the heads of the local temple, and they’d feel so honoured if I stayed there.

They all seemed to think some spiritualness for the tortured soul would do me good there.

Whatever. I agreed. I did not care at all.

The next day I had another talk with the doctor and by now I had come behind his question game. So when he asked, “How are you now?” I smiled and said “Thanks, I’m fine. I’m looking forward to feeling the sunshine on my skin again.”

That was the answer he had been waiting for. As simple as that. And I could leave, past the door sill, past the threshold.

After getting my clothes from my room I left the house without greeting anyone and I took a few steps then until the next side street where I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes and gave in to the tears. I sank down on my knees and wept uncontrollably. My tears fell into the dirt. And there was no one to lean against in my pain. No shoulder, no chest. The gods knew where he was right now; which pussy he fucked right now, which dick he smacked right now, which lips he licked right now...

I suppressed the screams and cried harder.

My life had ended the moment I had seen him with another whore.

I spent the night there. Just in the middle of all this dirt and crap. The earth was rubbish-strewn; it seemed to be the big trash can of the quarter there. I’d not have been surprised if I had found some faeces just under my back too...or under my head...all in all, it suited me. Perfectly, unfortunately.

As I woke up in the morning I needed a minute to get up. My limbs were stiff and I could barely move at all. Weak, cold, desperate. Not the best mix at all.

I finally decided to go to the monks. At least I’d have a warm bed there.

When the first of them caught sight of this terrible appearance called ‘Sanzo’ they ran back to the temple, shouting with joy. It sent my mood down the cellar stairs.

However, I survived their admission and was glad when I finally was led to my room. Nothing intricate, just a small room like everywhere in these temples.

Late afternoon already. That shit had taken so long. I just lay down then and slept. Until tomorrow.

And I awoke with a terrible headache, sore throat and stomach-ache. And I fell from the bed. My limbs hurt and my throat felt so sore that I did not want to talk at all. Feeling the despair crawling back into my bones I decided to keep lying there until someone would find me. And as pestering as they were it would be soon enough.

And really, after what felt like 30 minutes, and what probably was more than an hour in reality, someone smashed his hand against the door and entered. Oh, and how the monk was shocked when he found the great great piss-priest lying on the floor with a self-pleased smile.

He finally helped me up, and full of hate I went as well as I could to the eating hall. But as I sat in front of my small bowl of rice, my plate with fish, and my cup of tea I felt a strange nausea wandering up my body. The longer I stared at the goddamn rice the worse it got.

Until I turned to the side and gave in; not deliberately, but because my body could not be tamed by my mind any longer.

Gods, what an uproar, the great great shit-priest gagging and moaning on the floor. At breakfast.

I was carried back to my room on hundreds of hands. Hundreds of hands...and though...there was none of these which carried me with honest love.

When they had carefully put me back to bed they immediately sent for a doctor, and they put a carafe with water next to my bed.

It was warm there, under the blanket. It was not a first class bed, but it was comfortable. Not the usual bed for monks which was just a huge sack filled with straw; rather a real bed, very simple, but still to be called a ‘bed’. Better than the shit on the streets.

Better, slightly for the great great one, but still, for monks. Monks of high rank maybe.

I turned around, away from them. Despair was all which would go down or up my throat. Hopelessness. Nothingness.

The doctor came. I knew that guy from where I had been just one day ago. He seemed to be his assistant, or apprentice, whatever. I felt honoured to be sent the apprentice instead of the senior consultant. Maybe he had been too sick of me by now than to take care of matters himself. I could not blame him, I had often caused a sensation during those two weeks which I had spent there.

He just greeted me in a friendly manner, then asked me to undress, to show him my fucked scarred body, and I bluntly refused.

His eyes turned wide, and he was surprised. Negatively, of course.

“But...Sanzo-sama, it is for your best, for your health’s best. I promise to-“

He turned towards another monk and asked: ”Excuse me, do you have any rules concerning...naked...skin...? The body...?”

“No,” the monk shook his head and smiled mildly, “We don’t have any concerning this. We treat our Sanzo Hôshi-sama’s body with great respect. If he wishes so, I will leave the room when he intends to undress.”

And that was meant for me. A look went with it, and of course I seized that opportunity and sent him out of the room. When he closed the door behind him, the doctor’s eyes were glued to my covered body again. Especially to my chest, or where he thought my nipples to be.

As I noticed that I got so angry and afraid at the same time that I started to shake.

“Would you, please, undress? I am worried about this cough.”

Despite his worried and caring voice, there was this look which worried me. But I then realized that he’d not leave this room before he had seen me naked. For medicine’s purposes.

I sighed, then started with the sash. The doctor sat down and put his briefcase on the floor. Not one look touched me as I finally pulled the robe off my shoulders. He could see all he wanted to see, except the genitals. There was no reason for him, no reason for him in this world to grope them too when I was coughing and having a sore throat. And snot down to my stomach, as it felt to me. A racing heart, the chills.

I was still shaking when he finally turned towards me. I could barely hold still. The cold stethoscope on my chest doubled my feeling of unease. It was disturbing. Even more so when he started feeling up the underside of my jaw. He looked straight into my eyes...and I panicked. It made me remember so many awful things. His eyes, his skin - I jerked away, breathing harshly, feeling my heart beating too fast for me than to bear it anymore in a conscious state.

His eyes, confused.

I started to scream, only wishing to get away from him. Escaping, from the bed, but he held me down until more monks arrived to help him.

I felt so disappointed...but only until more horrible thoughts came back to torture me.

Round my wrists, round my ankles, leather, needles, the blackness, the madness. Screaming, blood...pain...

I was shaking terribly, tears streaming down my cheeks, moans, sounds which I did not want to give them but which pressed forth...awful...

Influenza...gastric...pulmonary...my body jerked as he accidentally touched my penis.

Hot, slick with my sweat, and I knew that pre-cum was on it...but not from pleasant things. His hand, cold, so gross, massaging my penis, under the pretence of checking if everything was alright with my bladder. And they held me down, believing this sick creature, letting him rape me...that was too much...

In fact, which went without me noticing, the doctor had his hand pressed against my ribcage to keep me down and was stethoscoping my lower body while the monks held me by my arms, legs and head. Yet, my head was already too filled up with bad connotations and hallucinations and I failed to realize what really was going on, and why.

I tried to escape again but I did not stand a chance against forty arms. So many arms...so many...and none touching me in love, not even that one hand which was about to make me ejaculate while his other hand was still somewhere on my ribcage, pretending.

And it hurt so much...a coughing fit seized me, for minutes, and it turned my vision blurred and worsened the headache.

I was even more helpless and defenceless after that fit, but I kept on screaming...crying and wailing as the cum spurted from my urethra.

And no one saw, because it all happened under the robes and blanket.

How I wished to cut it off. How I wished it would be silent in a second. How I wished it would stop.

And even more violently he stimulated me, and I cried harder, writhing in pain and sick, satisfying lust, milked; raped.

They all left me in tears, bathed in sweat, bathed in nausea and disgust, bathed in my own piss, bathed in rejection, bathed in my own snot and lastly...bathed in my own cum.

I could not move for some moments. It felt too awful.

Abused.

Never any peace.

I cried until I was even too weak for that anymore. My penis lay between my thighs, limp and spent. Cold, sticky cum everywhere...my testicles, black and blue from these harsh, unskilled fingers...my soul...fouling away.

All through the day they brought me food and tried to make me drink water and tea. Pills in between, coloured liquids, bitter and sweet...it all went down my throat as they forced me to open my mouth.

They raped me all day long.

If the great great mad-priest was having his delirium in his fever, which was okay, then people had to force him to hand over responsibility, to let others take care of him.

They were monks. No one would die inside these temple halls and everyone would be treated as an equal human being, and he’d be helped, no matter whether poor or rich.

And so was I.

Thanks.

The sun went down and I kept lying there; I had been going to sleep all day long.

Humiliated, alone, destroyed.

My dreams were cruel, my subconscious was cruel.

It sent me through hells and hells again. And I was glad when I could see the sun rising. But the day was not worth it. Not worth that energy the sun spent on rising.

Not for me.

I did not get up. They’d soon come to drag me along to the hall again, but whatever. My protection, my shield, my walls, destroyed. They had penetrated me, too much, too long, too intensely. I was devastated.

“Sanzo Hôshi-sama, would you come for breakfast? We’d feel honoured...”

“Fuck off...” I rasped, sick of all this shit.

“Pardon?” he said.

I replied no more and stared at the wall, waiting for that idiot to leave.

“I am sorry I have misunderstood you, Sanzo Hôshi-sama. I am sorry I have displeased you.”

He bowed down, then left.

The flu had got worse.

I’d refuse the pills and shit. And I hoped I’d stand a chance today; otherwise, the humiliation would go on and they’d leave me broken and destroyed in the evening again. It hurt my heart by now, physically. All that despair, all that darkness, that wish for death...my soul could not stand it anymore. And I fought on, I fought, I fought for my pride, for the pride of that blond little boy who was found in the river and who later pointed the gun at others rather than at himself. I tried to fight. And there was no end to it.

The entire day, nothing else but pills was put into me again. After all, they had a bad conscience if it came to shoving rice into my mouth while others held me so they didn’t even try.

I was silent. I did not make much noise at daytime. Only at night, they had told me, I was screaming and yelling. No wonder. Night was a different hell than day.

It went on, on, on, and on...I got to refuse the pills or at least get rid of them again after they had left and it went on, on until I was so weak I could not even sit up on my own anymore in bed. Emaciated, spent, reduced to a skeleton. When my hand came to lie on my ribcage I could feel the bones. Like hills, like seas...my pelvic bones, like towers, towering over the raped flesh.

I had difficulties in swallowing; my tongue had swollen to the size of a cucumber, my throat so sore, my lymphatic glands swollen to the size of peaches, distorting my facial appearance.

Cold...so cold. My head was even spinning when I was lying there in bed, my heart pounding unbearably, racing.

There were days when my consciousness was buried under a thick layer of hallucinations, illusions, nightmares. When it would not reach the sunshine outside...when it was kept down in the dark waters of my subconscious.

I could feel them touching me then, bathing me. I could not move at these times, so I could not hit and kick them...pills again, needles...I almost believed I was back at the nut house...

They brought me cigarettes when I screamed for them, when I was clear in my head. They even brought me sake, and I poured it down my sore throat, benumbing it, benumbing everything inside me...they brought me more alcohol when I lay in bed, screaming and writhing, out of my mind, worried faces, fearful eyes...

Worried expressions when they changed the linen and let me lie on the floor in the meantime, as I wished so.

I had wetted them again at night.

Sighs, when I tried to walk to the toilet myself at night and when they found me between the bed and door on the floor in the morning, either fainted or desperately awake.

Even tears from a younger monk whom I had seen often already, tiptoeing down the stone corridors of the temple and catching a glimpse of his object of adoration from time to time. Tears from the young monk when I collapsed like a house of cards when they forced me to pray with them in the big hall yet again.

Despite my lethal condition they got me to get up and pray for them. It was unbelievable, but it revealed their true foul beliefs and egoism.

They’d let me stand on the plateau, turned to the goddess of mercy, praying aloud, and they would repeat it.

The face of the goddess, it seemed so cruel, awe-inspiring. And as my strength left me, she opened her eyes and prayed for me. I could always feel it coming...my knees trembling, my voice growing fainter, figures dancing in front of my eyes and the horrible nausea again.

This holy priest they were abusing day by day, consisting of nothing more than bones and some blood and no more anymore...it was hidden under beautiful, precious robes in all possible colours. These weak legs, covered with long skirts under the robe. No one would pray naked in front of the goddess. Not I either, they had decided.

Always, it went down the same way...my knees gave in, and while I fell down I passed out already. I heard no shouts, I felt no hands on my body. The only thing which reminded me that it had happened again was a nasty headache when I woke up again. Sometimes some bruises of all sorts too. And still, they kept on sending me out into this hall to pray for them.

They did not care in which condition I was then. A bony Sanzo was as good as a fat Sanzo. A sick Sanzo was as good as a sane and healthy Sanzo. After all he was a Sanzo, and the goddess would hear him.

Often, when I repeated these eternally same standard words of prayer and when they repeated them I could not hold back the tears. It was such a torture for me. There was no night and day anymore. Everything was night. I slept at daytime by now too. My mind did not keep light from dark anymore; I did not realize when night and day changed anymore. It did not matter. It was not important.

Yet again I lay in bed, recovering from a fainting spell. Juice next to my bed.

Someone shyly stroking the door. I only gave them a grunt, but the one on the other side took it for a Yes. I didn’t care anymore for what they took what. As the door was opened I turned around to see who was bothering me this time. With tired eyes I took a look at the person, assuming my eyes would just get his genitals into sight while, in fact, it was a little head.

I lifted an eyebrow...which only intimidated the little one all the more.

He held a bowl with rice in his hands, and kept waiting at the door, waiting for me to invite him in. At least he did not enter as furiously as the others loved to. Just for that already I loved that one.

“C’m in,” I whispered.

He bowed his head and closed the door, then put the bowl down on the floor next to my bed. He sat down on the floor and looked at me. There was something between us, something which was different from what I felt when I looked at those older monks. He was young, he was new. He was a child of that time, introduced to the old rules of thousands of years ago. He would take these rules, accept them and live them in his own way, if he was strong enough for that.

I wanted him to be strong enough for that.

Suddenly, it was even like a challenge to me, my personal interest in him being a stronger one than all the pathetic preachers in their perfect robes.

I did not want him to see me so weak...how should he get strong if the great great fuck-priest was lying there in such misery.

After some attempts I finally managed to sit up for him and I immediately had to lean against the wall to not sink down again. I realized he had craved to help me sit up but he was too shy, too much respect, too much adoration.

I coughed and cleared my throat.

“For how long’ve you been here already?” I asked, trying to get used to talking again. I could not spend the rest of my life silent. I was too much of a personal asshole for that than to not annoy other people with my shit comments. They were satisfying, of course, and I was satisfied too when I saw that I had converted another one to the religion of hating a Sanzo priest.

Somehow...that made me feel stronger. My inner force, my inner intensity urged to come through again. The presence of the little monk made me feel somewhat special again.

“One...and half a year, Sanzo Hôshi-sama-“

“Forget that shit. I’m Sanzo, alright? I can’t stand this shit anymore, I get to hear it every day a hundred times. Do me a favour and call me Sanzo, yeah?” I snapped, slightly annoyed. A coughing fit seized me again. Anger was not good for me in that state.

The little one stared at me with big eyes and apologized.

I sighed, then rubbed my eyes. Tears had gathered in them during the coughing...and they stung.

“May I ask how you feel? Do you feel better?” he asked, still in a very careful voice.

I managed something like a derisive laugh.

“My, like shit...”

Suddenly I felt the desire to undress that little one and rub his dick.

I swallowed hard at this sudden notion.

I closed my eyes tightly and coughed. “Do you enjoy being here?”

Seconds of hesitation which told me that he did not. Not really. But of course he was to say Yes. And after some more seconds, he did say Yes.

“Little one, don’t say Yes if you don’t like it. Don’t be like the others. They teach you to be like them, but you have to find your own way. Don’t become someone you are not.” I said with a smirk.

I knew too well what I was talking about. And I was about to tell him to not become like these raping bastards, like these abusing, killing, humiliating creatures...but I kept it to myself. It might have been too much for him right now. Later, some years later, maybe.

He was surprised.”But, Sanzo-sam-excuse me, Sanzo...”

I could see how difficult it was for him to just call me ‘Sanzo’. They had already changed his mind. But there still was substance to be saved. I knew that.

“Find your own way. Listen to them what they tell you. But think about it yourself, consider their opinions, consider your reality which comes from within you, and then decide what you can accept for -your- reality, and then change it, according to -your- thoughts. But don’t blindly take anything.”

The little one was silent. He certainly had never heard someone of the monks talking to him like that. They all thought that they believed in the ultimate truth. But they forgot that there were other ultimate truths too.

Individuals.

I had difficulties keeping myself up by now and it angered me how weak I was.

“Sanzo-sa...Sanzo...would...do you need-“

“No,” I snapped at him, feeling hurt again. That little one could touch my pride so easily. But I had to forgive him. I saw that he was honest, and worried. Truly.

“No. I’m not well. That’s all.”

Admitting that was a big step for me. But the little one made it easy for me. He was so likable. I felt that I could be honest with him and talk about things which other narrow-minded cratures would not have understood at all.

“Don’t worry,” I gasped, “It’s just...” I blinked a few times, and felt a terrible sting in my heart which made me gasp again, “wounds.”

He looked at me with worried eyes. I saw that he was serious about it.

“You know...a Sanzo can have wounds too. As holy as he is supposed to be, as much as he’s adored, as much as he’s desired...but he’s only human too.”

It was stunning to which wisdom I suddenly came through that little boy. So many things which sounded totally tacky to me when I said them, but which sounded pretty right the next moment.

“He’s just human,” and I gave him a one-sided smile, “just human, with his blood, bones and heart. And he can be stained, and soiled and dirty,” I licked my lips, “as much as anyone else can be.”

I looked at him again. He was sitting there, his hands neatly resting on his knees, his eyes telling me that he was thinking hard about what I said. Everyone told him Sanzos were pure, innocent; the purest things on earth. Maybe some were. But not this one.

“Hard to believe? I just have my wounds, like you have.”

No one entered a temple if he had not arrived at insoluble problems. It hurt me that he was so young, it did hurt me. So young, so troubled already. He reminded me of myself.

He lowered his head and sniffled. His hands were shaking. Just now, when I took a closer look at his hands I realized that there were bright, red stains on the sleeves of his robe.

I knew that too well.

With all the strength I had left I threw myself forward, over the bed, gripped his wrist tightly and pulled on his arm. He complied, shocked. I was still so strong that I could make him get up, but gods, I was spent after this...

I pushed the sleeves back, and what I saw did not surprise me. Covered with awful, red weals; dark, black blood; marks from fire. I stared at his wounds for some moments, then swallowed and let go of his arm. “Sit down...” I breathed.

With tears in my eyes I stared at him, straight into his eyes, and I could see his tears too. But I had to guide him, I had to be the strong one. With everything I could summon inside I swallowed down my tears and put my hand on his wounds.

“I know that...”

The little one was totally perplexed. He needed some time to pull himself together after that attack.

I pushed my robes off my shoulders to bare my scarred chest and arms. Full of cuts, bullet marks, fire marks. Some of them too old to be retold again; some of them too painful than to be named again.

“Everyone’s got them,” I whispered, looking at him in silence, watching him tracing along every scar and mark until I felt too weak to sit up straight any longer.

I felt the need for a cigarette. But, I had no strength to get them.

“Give me my ciggies”

The little one immediately got up and gave them to me.

As I could inhale that bitterness again I felt better instantly. That grey gold.

The little one stared at me, helpless, demanding protection.

I did not know whether I could give him that. I could not be his father. I could not be his mother.

But I could be something else for him.

I fished another cigarette from my packet and offered it to him. He looked down at it, then back at me with a confused look. Somewhere else, they’d have arrested me for seducing a child, teaching him to smoke, how to harm his health...but here, there was no one else in this room to call me out on it.

“I know you do, “ I smirked.

He regarded me as someone to be adored. So he took it. I lit it for him, and after his first drag he gave me a sour look, but he didn’t stub it out. Not his brand, apparently. But he kept it in his hand.

How often had I seen that. Scars, and smoke on them.

Ash fell down on my bed. But who cared. I had already slept in worse dirt than some ash.

The smoke did me good; yet, as for the physical aspect it made my head spin again and it let me pant and sweat. But I needed it. I did not care if the little one saw the sweat running down my chest. He certainly wasn’t the one to have a desire for the great great crap-priest’s penis.

There he took a drag again, staring at the linen.

How could a boy grow so old in some minutes?

“It’s sick, and it destroys you, but sometimes, it can be home. Sometimes, it’s fine to cling to things, “ I went on, not aware of the way in which I talked to that boy at all.

He turned his head to look at me again. So lost, so empty. I knew it all.

“Point your gun at other heads than yours,” I mumbled with the cigarette between my lips. I could not hold it up with my hand any longer. Trembling too much.

I gave him another weak smile and reached for his sleeve to pull it over the marks again.

“Time to grow up.”

I took the cigarette from my lips, took his hand and as I just was about to burn his skin with it he pulled it away, staring at me in shock.

“Good. The next one who does that to you you just thrash soundly, yeah?”

He needed some moments to get what I meant. But he was intelligent. More than the others.

“I’m sorry...” he said in a dark voice.

“You need not be sorry for being 10 years old, boy. But it is always better to be older on the inside.”

I leaned closer to him and almost fell down on the bed. But I managed to pull myself together, and brought my hand up to his shoulder.

“Better for your health.”

He looked down again and took another drag from the cigarette. It had almost burnt down to the filter.

“Enough now,” I said and took the cigarette from his hands.

I stubbed it out on my arm. It did not wrest more than a short moment of clenching my teeth from me. I knew the pain, I knew the feelings, I knew the way.

He was shocked and astonished at the same time.

“You learn to take as time goes by. It’s vital.”

“Why are you so ill? It's not just your body...” the little one asked suddenly; sorrow and affliction in his voice.

I turned my head away and licked my lips while staring down at the pillow. The entire sea of pain flooded my body and I felt like passing out. What that talk with the boy had kept back pushed forth now with even more fierceness.

“Why?” he asked again, more fierceness in his voice too, more emphasis. He’d not leave without an answer.

I sunk down on the mattress in misery. How that little boy could drive me to my knees in moments.

I was so vulnerable. So many open wounds.

Feeling my heart racing again, the sweat making me feel awfully cold as I leaned there in my robes hanging down from my body, panting harshly again. I sought for support in the pillow and grabbed it. But there was not much in those feathers.

“Why,” I could hear him again, tears in his voice.

It distressed me. It was impossible to get away from this. It clouded my mind so much that not one straight thought was possible anymore.

“Go,” I wailed, “go...”

“But why...” I heard him crying too.

“He left me,” I gasped, clasping the pillow, my body shaking.

I felt so weak, it was a maddening battle between falling down on the sheets and keeping myself up.

“He...he left?”

I did not care whether he suddenly had a problem with the great great bastard-priest loving...a man. I’d not be the one to change his sexual beliefs nor his gender roles with my dresses.

I cried shamelessly, and the pain shook me.

“What...can I do something for you? Please?” he shouted, distressed to hell, the little one. Guilty, that he had brought me into this awful state.

I was not able to say anything more.

He was just adorable. He sat down on the floor again, waiting, watching me, like something terrible was about to happen. After all, I could hit my head with the rice bowl or so...

As the tears slowly dried up I was totally spent. I lay there in my lake of darkness, my arm hanging from the bed, my snot just everywhere, my eyes stinging again.

The boy dared to lift his head finally to look me in the eyes; abashed and impressed. I blinked and sniffed.

Pathetic.

But he’d keep it to himself.

He sniffed too, looked down, then up at me again.

“Cigarette?” he said with an insecure, but caring voice.

I did not need to say anything at all. One moment later, a small hand put the cigarette between my lips and some others lighted it. The smoke happened to clothe his face with grey air, but he didn’t blink at all.

“I desire love...” I muttered, the cigarette between my lips again.

“I need it. Judge me, damn me.”

It was the first time I saw a hint of an honest smile on his lips. He put his hands on his knees as he sat there cross-legged and moved forth and back, still smiling.

“I’ll not stay here,” he said, “I’ll leave when you leave.”

It made me close my eyes and smile inside too. He had a special way of consoling someone.

“When our therapy is over, we’ll leave,” I mumbled on, putting smoke on every letter.

“Mhm,” he smiled and looked at me.

Somehow, it felt good.

Somehow, it felt good to be smiled at again. To be cared about and even for. To be worthy of the time of someone else.

“Take one out, I’ll give you one till the next time you visit me...”, I breathed, closing my eye tightly as smoke had got in it.

He thanked me a hundred times before he really got up to get it. As he was about to take the rice bowl with him I feebly lifted my head and called, still with the cigarette between my lips, “I’ll do you a favour, little boy...I’ll have half of it, okay?”

And suddenly, I felt like the child. Maybe we had both found something in the other.

His face got even brighter.

As he finally had left I threw the gleaming cigarette out of the window and lighted another one. I needed to return home.

The bowl of rice just made me feel sick when I looked at it. But I had told him I’d have it.

Every spoon full of rice I forced down my throat made me feel sicker. Every single white grain gave energy, life to me with which I could not deal at that moment.

I threw up after it.

Grain by grain. My guts were rebelling, mercilessly.

I lay on the floor, writhing in pain, puking all over myself. I had got to know that my body could not handle solid food anymore.

What a pity.

A shiver went down my back as I felt the terrible cold- and wetness of the vomit on my chest.

That was what I deserved.

I was sick of this. So sick of this all. Lying in the dirt all the time...did I have no right to be somewhere warm and comfortable too? Did I have no right to feel worthy of the little things? Did I not have the right to crave these things, that state? Better; not perfect, but better?

I turned around in my misery and let my soul answer.

Then I sat up quickly and leaned against the bed, one arm resting on it to keep me up, the other on the floor. Stars were dancing in front of my eyes, and I felt sicker again. Headache, difficulties in breathing.

But fuck it.

I wanted to get rid of that rotten smell, of that wet shit on my chest. I felt not worthy of that. I felt worthy of more...for a short moment in my life, I felt worthy of more than this. And I clung to this moment, I put it into my heart and I was going to nourish it.

I’d need help.

The bathroom was unreachable for me. No way.

But there was something inside which kept me from calling for help. Something mighty inside, something which held the reins tightly. It had never left me. Never had gone away.

But how horrible that felt, sitting in that pool of sick. I licked my lips and coughed. All my strength had left me. I’d need days to recover from only this day.

Five minutes later, I had passed out.

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The way of the lost