Nightly Bond VII: The Circle
#7 of Nightly Bond
For those of you who were not fans of the previous story for the fact that the story twisted, do not read this. This is simply a closure to the whole tale, rather than a simple wank-story. This is also long, and may get graphic at parts. So, read from here on if you wish.
Again, I woke up, and I don't remember--well, actually, a better term would be didn't remember how. I know how now.
But this time there didn't seem to be a logical flow to me falling asleep and not remembering. My father was, again, curled up next to me as we lay in the sleeping bag. I wiggled back against him, tried to roll over, and wrap my arms around him.
I did wrap my arms around him.
It was odd. I guess he untied me while I was sleeping. He nuzzled me and smiled weakly at me, yawning.
"You woke me up,"
"Bullshit."
he spoke softly to me, petting my sides.
I winced at his touch. I thought he was going to hit me again, but he didn't. His hands were soft, the same soft touch of my father once again. Well, that explains, at least, how I thought that I was raped by a dog with my father unwelcomingly pounding my fucking mouth. It was just simply one of those vivid dreams people have that actually believe that they're real.
He never tied the brace on me. He never did any of that. Of course, it was just a dream.
He ran his hands down my back and squeezed my rump. I cooed and I nuzzled him, kissing him softly. He slowly got up out of the sleeping bag--and this is when I noticed he was fully dressed. He wore a pair of jogging pants and a zip-up Russel Jacket that day. He padded out of the tent and went to the car. I crawled out of the bag--naked--and watched, the silky texture of my tube curled up and bunched around my crotch area, keeping me proper if any campers were to see. But, there were none, so the point was rather moot.
He came back over to me, kneeled, and kissed me on the nose with a warm, fatherly, lover's smile again. He petted my ears back. I loved my father. He was so nice to me. He loved me very much. I could see it in his eyes. I could feel it in his hands. He would never hurt me. That was just a dream. That lesson was bullshit.
"I'm going out to the city to get something, love," he cooed to me as he ran his fingers through my hair. The way he petted me made me feel like a prize possession to him, like I was his trophy-son. It made me happy. It helped me establish that I knew he loved me. He really did care for me.
_A tear ran down his left cheek, getting stuck in his fluffy fur as it trickled down step by step. Another one rolled much faster down his right. His lips turned up into an angry grimace, his white fist curling up tightly into itself. He snorted and wiped the water from his eyes, then resumed typing, his expression turning stone once more.
The cat who constantly taunted him looked up from his book, looking back at Levi with a slightly worried look on his face. But he resumed reading._
"If I'm not back by the time the sun goes down, you can make something for yourself to eat, okay?" And with that, he went back out to his car, and drove off. I watched the car longingly, watching him go so far, far away, watching that red station wagon kick up dust and grass as it sped off. I knew he wasn't going to abandon me, though. He came back.
When night time did come, though, he didn't return, and boy was I hungry. I looked around the campsite--and looked around--and looked around. I kept looking. Where did he put the food?
That's about the time I realized, my mouth going agape and my eyes going wide with fear--we forgot to unpack the food! We had so much of it, too! We had hamburgers, hot dogs, some steaks--I think a pork chop or two, too--a bunch of condiments, some eggs--man, we had everything! And we forgot to pull that cold, white, Igloo chest out of the car!
_"..."
His white knuckles turned ghostly. He shoved himself away from his metallic chair, the seat scattering across the floor. He turned to the bars and clung to them, pressing his head to the cold steel.
The cat looked up again. His expression showed that of concern derived from fear. He gulped, kneaded at his book for a few moments, then slowly turned his head back down, turning the page.
The rabbit growled and punched hard into the steel without flinching. The bars rattled. A soft, almost musical_
twang _filled the air. There was no blood on his fist, not even a scratch. With this, the cat's ears folded, but he didn't dare look up from his book.
Levi picked up his chair, slowly, and placed it back in front of the typewriter. It moved back into place with a loud_
clunk.
He resumed.
So I started rummaging around our campsite.
Well, that was useless! Everything was in our light-blue-on-silver-gray tent. I unzipped the black entrance and slid into the tent. It was slightly warm with all the heat becoming trapped in it, luckily, from earlier, but I could feel it quickly slipping away, so I zipped up the tent.
I just hoped that there were some scraps or snacks or something. I was starving!
How could my father forget such an important thing?
I went up to my black three-pocket Targus backpack--you know, it was like those basic school backpacks. It was my only backpack, but I loved it. Blue and white--just perfect! It had that rounded-square pocket in the front with the zipper at about a fourth the top, and then it had two zipper pockets in the back. It had all my stuff--well, at least for the camping trip.
So I emptied my bag, from end to end, unzipping every pocket, searching every crevice. Nothin'! Just my generic black socks, generic white underwear (I liked the underwear because it made me look nude while I wasn't), and two of my t-shirts. One of them was aqua blue, the other one was pitch black with a red eyeball in the middle. It was the shirt of my favorite band at the time, anyhow--The Defilers. They didn't really live up to their name--oh, I'm going off on semantics.
I only brought one pair of slacks--they were black too. I looked at all my clothes, and then my pure, white, naked body. My father wouldn't be around anyhow, so I could get away with being dressed. I put on my pants, my underwear, and my Defilers shirt.
My stomach growled at me. Man, I was getting hungrier and hungrier by the second!
_"What am I writing? This sounds nothing like my voice," Levi whispered. He then sighed. "Oh well. Can't cross all of it out. Might as well just keep writing."
The cat looked up slowly, then back at his book. The rabbit caught that, then sneered at him, and returned to writing._
I looked over and saw my father's bag. It was a big black duffel bag. He tended to over-pack, but not this time, which was weird! It wasn't like him when we went out on trips like this, anyway. I crawled over to the bag and unzipped it. God, I hope there would be food here!
The black duffel bag rattled about as I unzipped it. I could hear plastic clicking about under my hands.
The rabbit's paws once more turned into ghostly fists of rage. After roughly a minute, the white digits pulled away from their respective palms and placed themselves back on the home row of the typewriter.
I looked inside. Nothing but clothes!
I whined and turned it upside down. Everything fell out with numerous random whumps. All I saw was a pile of clothes--oh, and I saw a brown clip-board with like maybe thirty or so pieces of yellow, blue-lined paper. It was one of those old ones--you know, one of the ones with the metal clip. Some pencils scattered about, too.
I started tossing the clothes left and right, hoping to maybe find a Snickers bar or something along those lines! Just something to satiate the hunger rumbling in my belly! He was growling at me louder and louder, like my daddy did as he tried to pr!
"Bullshit," he muttered under his breath. He started rocking a little in his chair as he typed, his eyes glazing over.
I found a vial. It was like a medical vial. It was transparent orange with a child-proof top. It didn't have a medical label, though. It had no colors--shit, it had no labels. Well, except for one that my father had written on the side.
It was one of those sticky labels you write on. It was written with a black Bic pen, but it was written in some sort of short-hand. He wrote it like that so I couldn't read it, the fucker. I rattled it--there was something in there. I looked at the bottom. There were four pea-sized pills. They appeared to be orange from the outside, but that was the plastic.
I opened up the case with hungry eyes, then tore the top off. I poured the pills into my hand... and they were orange.
As hungry as I was, I had to stop. Orange, as we were taught in middle school, was a bad color for a pill. Nine times out of ten, it was because the drug was called Snake. It was popular for so many of the wrong reasons. There were numerous laws on it, but no one could completely get rid of it. It was so popular in the drug market. This is why the medical industry doesn't use orange anymore--to use orange is to attempt to convince the pharmaceutical community that either you'd like to file for Chapter 13 for your laboratory, or you simply don't want to deal in lab-made drugs.
I couldn't believe it. There was no possible way. I thought my father l
_"I AM NOT OPENING THAT CAN OF WORMS," he screamed into the cell.
The cat winced and squeezed his book tighter. His ears kept folded to his head._
I couldn't believe it. There was no possible way. There couldn't have been.
But oh god, there was.
I brought the sickly peas up to my hand, plucked one from my palm, and looked for a logo.
There was a logo. A snake.
These pills weren't for my father. These were for me. For fucking me. They were all for fucking me. He had been using them on me. My loving lying sack of shit father was using them on me.
It was all from the beginning, too. We learned about the side-effects. How could I have been so stupid. It starts slowly as a lustful desire--a drunk desire. A hunger for sex with anyone. It slowly transforms into a loss of memory, and then turns into a state of narcolepsy, a state of only being awake when they wanted you. And it was swimming through my veins, waiting for my father to put the bad touch on me and take me again. He probably wanted me to fuck that god damn wolf again--nay, for the wolf to fuck me!
I lived alone with my father and no one at school liked me, so I guess that's why he preyed on me. He knew I'd be an easy target. I had no outlet i had no way to get away i had no one to turn to i had no where to go there was nothing to do no wonder he took me he took me for prey so easily all my fault all my fault all my fault all my fault all my fault all my fault all my fault all my fault all my faultttttttttttttttk,jn
He slammed his fist into the keys, punched the wall and screamed a blood-curdling, rage-filled scream. His knuckles only became slightly bruised.
--
He had been feeding me these things since long before I could even remember, hadn't he?
I kept saying all these things, over and over in my head, just staring at these Snakes staring right back at me. It wasn't until after I saw my fist close up tightly in a powerful rage that I realized that I had lost it completely. I grabbed my toothbrush and my toothpaste, then ran outside the tent, slipping into darkness.
Minutes past. Hours past. I just sat at the base of the tree. My eyebrows pointed directly at the bridge of my muzzle. My eyes were right triangles. I stared at the tent. I stared, and I stared, and I stared. I waited.
A rumbling sounded from way down the path. I turned my head. I could see the slights slowly rocking up and down as the black Michelin wheels crushed the grass and destroyed the life beneath them--the treads flowing like a river of death behind my daddy daddy daddy FATHER'S CAR.
"GOD DAMN IT."
He drove up to the tent, slowly. He was roughly thirty feet from it. I could see his lights shining into it. I could hear his muffled complaints, what sounded like apologies. He was confessing for what he had done. Something about hunger--or making me hungry or some metaphoric bullshit like that--he must have been confessing his hunger for me. He was confessing everything.
It's too late.
I popped off the cap to my toothpaste. I poured--with a shaky hand--the toothpaste onto the end of the brush. I stared at my father from the distance, then threw the toothpaste into the bushes.
I quietly crept toward him. He was whining out. His fur was glowing in the light of his car, turning around, worried about me. Worried that he lost his fucking pet. Worried that he lost his fucking drugged-up slut of a fucking son. My knuckled became a ghostly white. I was ready to execute the task.
He just sat on the front hood of his car, holding his head in his hands, his eyes at the ground. I silently crept--surprised that he couldn't hear my feet as they touched the grass, as they snuck past the leaves. He didn't even see me sneak past the lights. I stood right in front of him, stared at him for what seemed like forever.
"Dad," I said darkly.
The tone of my voice must have caught him off guard. He lifted his head and stared right back at me. I hope he saw the look on my face right before I shoved that fucking brushed-end of my toothbrush into his right eye. I hope he saw my furious rage with his only working eye as I twisted the bristles in his socket. I hope the image of me slowly, agonizingly turning the brush left and right, cleansing his eye with the toothpaste soaked end was forever burned into his head.
His eyes dilated.
He screamed. Oh Lord, did he scream. He didn't move his working eye away from me. His whole body was frozen in horror. A combination of green and red flowed like a river off of my brush. I twisted it left. He cried out. I twisted it right. He cried out. It was delicious. It was like the Snake had a complete reverse effect. It was like I had finally taken control, taken control of the fucking liar, done what I wanted to do.
"SOMETIMES WE'VE GOT TO DO WHAT WE DON'T WANT, DON'T WE DAD?!" I screamed into his face. "SOMETIMES WE'VE JUST GOT TO DO WHAT OTHERS WANT US TO!" I twisted the bristles again. It was orgasmic. I could literally hear the sizzling sound his eyes made as the toothpaste managed to become soaked by the gelatinous orbs my father used to ogle me with. "SOMETIMES, WE MUST FOLLOW THE RULES OF OTHERS. WE MUST--" I twisted it again. And then I tugged it out to emphasize my words--"DO WHAT WE GOTTA DO." His eyeball was skewered on my brush, the pupil staring right back at me. I grabbed it with my free-hand, feeling the warm squish of blood and whatever nerves made up an eyeball and tossed it to the grass--where that fucking wolf would most definitely eat it--and I jammed my brush into his other eye. He screamed out again, his body still stupidly frozen in terror as his now empty, dead socket just gushed with crimson vengeance.
"SOMETIMES WE'VE GOT TO JUST TAKE IT. TAKE IT LIKE A MAN, RIGHT DAD? YOU CAN'T BE A LITTLE FUCKING KID FOREVER.
He began to cry. He had no control over his fingers, and he knew it. He was slowly running into a state of bawling as the words flowed from his fingers, his mind betraying him in every instance.
YOU GOTTA GROW UP IS WHAT YOU GOTTA DO!"
I tugged the brush away from his eye socket again. My father's last eyeball was now impaled on the ends of my red toothbrush.
He fell back on the hood of his car, screaming a delicious blood-curdling scream, his hands upturned in the same way a dog's would as if he were playing dead.
"PAIN. COMES. FULL. CIRCLE," I twisted at each word, opposite direction each time. I was yelling so loud that I swear people in the city could hear me. "IT'S THE FIRST THING WE LEARN WHEN WE LEARN ABOUT CHILD ABUSE. IT'S WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW. THE PAIN NEVER LEAVES. IT REMAINS IN THE BODY UNTIL IT BUBBLES UP, BUBBLES UP, BUBBLES UP AND UP AND UP--" bubbling up and up and up like the blood was in my father's dead, empty, black sockets, dribbling out and turning his face red with crimson stains of delicious revenge--"UNTIL THE PRESSURE CANNOT BE HANDLED ANY MORE!"
_Levi whined. "Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit," he started to chant as he just rocked back and fourth, trying to remember that it was a dream. It had to be. He wasn't here. This didn't happen.
The cat ignored him._
He started to shiver. The blood was leaving him. And I wasn't done with him yet.
I hopped up onto the car--the sound of the metal under my feet whining and pounding away into the night from my weight. It buckled under me in pockets. I kneeled in front of my father and stared at him in his bleeding face.
I didn't bother to spit. I just hit him. And I hit him. And I hit him. And i hit him and i hit him and i hit him and i hit him and i could feel the his bleeding head tilting left and right and i could just see him whining and crying for mercy he wanted me to stop but fuck him i wasn't going to stop no way no how not now no matter how many times you apologize to me this is it this is over this is my time this is my time to shine this is for the snake this is for the times you took advantage of me you fucking liar you ass you jerk you anything everything you epitomize pedophilic horror
His trembling finger pressed into the SHIFT key like one trying to hold a lid shut that just won't close.
I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME AND YOU DIDN'T LOVE ME WELL I LOVED YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU PAY ME YOU DRUG ME YOU TAKE ME YOU FUCK ME YOU MAKE ME FUCK THE WOLF YOU MAKE ME SLEEP WITH YOU YOU MAKE ME HOLD YOUR DICK WELL NOW I HAVE TAKEN THAT ALL AWAY FROM YOU YOUR GOING TO DIE YOUR GOING TO DIE ALL YOUR FAULT ALL YOUR FAULT ALL YOUR FAULT ALL YOUR FAULT HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE MY FISTS FLYING AT YOUR FACE LIKE THE WAY YOU SLAPPED ME THE OTHER NIGHT
_The cat looked up from his book. The furious typing was really distracting him. What he saw was an odd sight, however, one that had not ever happened.
Levi's finger was on the shift key, driving it nearly to the ground, a furious, angry look in his face as tears just shot from his eyes, his head pressed nearly flush to the paper as it flew up and up and up. Each time a ding sounded, his hand plowed the cylinder back into place to resume his angry words.
The feline was in pure, frozen awe._
HERE IT COMES AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN MY THIRTEEN YEAR OLD FISTS MAY BE SMALL BUT THEY HURT DON'T THEY DADDY I AM NOW A RED RABBIT INSTEAD OF A WHITE AND IT FEELS SO GOOD IT FEELS SO WARM AND NONE OF THIS COLORING IS MINE IT IS ALL YOURS AND IT IS DELICIOUS I CAN TASTE THE METAL I CAN TASTE THE FLUIDS OF MY REVENGE TASTY VENGANCE I LOVE TO SEE YOU WITHOUT THE EYES THAT LOOK AT MY YOUNG BODY LIKE A HUNGRY FUCK OBJECT I CAN SEE HOW THEY DON'T EXIST ANYMORE ALL BECAUSE OF ME ME ME ME ME ME I CAN SEE YOUR FACE CONTORTING I CAN FEEL ITS STRENGTH ITS LIKE A MUSHY PUMKIN YOU ARE TURNING INTO NOTHING BUT A STEW NOTHING BUT A PASTE AND NOW YOU ARE DONE ITS ALL DONE ITS ALL DONE NOW YOU HAVE NO HEAD LEFT WHAT HEAD YOU HAD LEFT IS NOW BURNED INTO THE HOOD OF YOUR CAR IT IS PULP IT IS PULP it is pulp oh god what have i done now my daddy is dead this is all my fault why did i hurt him why did i hurt him he loved me and i loved him back what have i done oh god ive got to stop ive got to bring him back daddy daddy im sorry i didn't mean to hurt you so bad are you okay daddy speak to me daddy are you okay daddy speak to me daddy im sorry ill go get mommy shell make you better she makes me better when im sick so shell make you better okay daddy daddy please wake up daddy no its not fair why have you taken him i loved him i loved him you took my daddy its all your fault and its all my fault why did i let him do this to me why did i do it its not fair i should have been stronger this is all my fault all my fault all my fault all my fault al my fault ALL MY FAULT ALL MY FAULT ALL MY FAULT ALL MY FAULT ALL MY FAULT
_He couldn't take it anymore. He had to stop him.
"Levi!" he cried out to him._
ALL MY FAULT ALL MY FAULT ALL MY FAULT IF ONLY I HAD DONE WHAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO IF ONLY I HAD DONE WHAT HE HAD ASKED ME TO DO OH WHY DIDN'T I OBEY IM A BAD BOY BAD BOYS GO TO HELL OH GOD WHY MY SHIRT IS STAINED WITH BLOOD I AM A CRIMSON BUNNY I AM NOTHING BUT RED RED RED RED RED RED AS THE CAR RED AS MY FATHERS LOST FACE AND SHAPE AND HEAD THERE IS NOTHING LEFT BUT A BLOODY BUNNY MASK
_"Levi!" he almost screamed. "Levi, listen to me! Stop it!"
His fingers stopped flying. An icy sensation filled the air. Time stopped as Levi's fingers halted. He turned back to the cat--_
--
--and he stared at him with glazed eyes once again. His pupils were tiny pinpricks, making his eyes seem like pools of amber.
"You lived," he spoke in a slow, accusatory manner. "You lived, you lived, you lived!" he chanted.
"Levi, stop it," he said again. Levi's fists curled up tightly.
"You fucking liar. You did it again. You lied. You were dead. You lied. You lied!" he growled the last words, then, with lightning fast speed, yanked the typewriter from the table, and threw it with such force that when it hit the feline, he fell back into the wall. Instantly, he was knocked out. The book fell from his hands and onto the floor, his body falling limp on the cot of the brick wall.
The cat's muzzle was broken in three places instantly from the force. Levi scrambled from his chair, tossed, the typewriter aside, and pounced the now passed out feline. He began to punch him, over and over again, left and right, just pounding away at his head. The other in-mates began to chant--some calling for the help of their comrade.
But it wasn't enough. The strong fists just tore themselves into the taunting feline's face, left and right, letting the dark gray fur become just as soaked as his father's with blood. Levi's knuckles were stained with the blood of his father--the blood of his taunter and the blood of himself to boot.
The deed was done. The cat's head was nothing now but a shattered, crushed pumpkin. Levi panted loudly.
"YOU NEVER LOVED ME," he screamed, before a large, cylindrical object clubbed him over the back of the head, knocking him out, forcing him to fall upon the very pool of blood he just created with the very fists that put him in the very place he was.
--
"I am so fucked," an elderly vixen stated nonchalantly as she brought the cigarette to her lips, sitting in the metal chair behind desk--which was behind a faux-mirror that exposed Levi. He sat in the middle of padded room, his arms tied behind his back as he skittered about.
Every once in a while, he would scream a various phrase. Sometimes it was "you never loved me." Sometimes it was "snakes." Sometimes it was "bubbles up." Sometimes it was "the face of death." Sometimes a string of gibberish followed by "father."
"Oh come on," the Doberman in the white mock-scrubs said, sitting right beside the vixen. He didn't smoke. "It was an honest mistake. This was the one in that nineteen-times-out-of-twenty things. Calm down."
She sighed. "I just thought that writing would help. He was so calm when we found him five years ago just... just writing those stories in his tent. It was so bizarre looking back at them now. I mean... I mean it was just smut! For fuck sake, looking at what he wrote before he pounded the fuck out of his cell-mate, he just lost it the more he wrote. This is my fault."
"No it's not. You did what you thought would help--which has helped others in the past--and it backfired. One time out of twenty."
"I guess you're right," she said unconvinced. "But I still feel bad. Technically, I'm responsible for the death of a prisoner. I told him to write those for me, because I thought they would help him get better."
The Doberman chuckled. "One less scumbag in the overflowed system."
"Oh ha-fucking-ha," she responded angrily.
"It was a joke, calm down."
She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little angry at myself and what happened." She watched her cigarette as the smoke just flowed up into the vent above them. Levi screamed out again--this time about his t-shirt. Both the Doberman and the vixen looked up as the rabbit screamed again. She sighed, slowly pulling herself away from the table.
"Maybe if I take a few days off I'll calm down."
The Doberman got up as well. "Well, you know, this isn't entirely your fault. It's mostly the father's fault. As they say, 'he had it comin'.'"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah? How do you explain?"
The Doberman chuckled. "C'mon. You forgot middle school already? Remember?"
"No." She was obviously so angry with herself that she wasn't thinking straight.
"Pff. It's the vicious circle."
She looked at him curiously. Then a light-bulb went off in her head.
"God, I feel so stupid now! Of course!"
He laughed. "You of all people forget! If you abuse someone, they're going to abuse someone else, and so on, and so on." He pointed at Levi through the faux-mirror. "He didn't have anyone else to pick on, apparently. I guess you could say the abuse just came full circle."
She smiled weakly, then looked up at the Doberman. "You know. That actually makes me feel a little bit better. Thank you."
"No problem."
THE END