Where the Stars End

by Ross Anthony

  “I’ve missed you,” he hushed.

  “You don’t even know,” I breathed, as I tried to bring my lips back to his, but he pushed me away.

  “No. This isn’t safe for us,” he started. “Alpha Omega Psi is banning together against us... well, people like us. My father has connections to Stetson’s cabinet, Mīlo,” he said my name plainly, “and things are going to get very bad here. Have you seen all the inequality symbols around?”

  “Yes, they’re stupid and pointless,” I started, annoyed. “It means nothing to me.”

  Of course, everything he had been saying were all the same fears I had, but I didn’t want to be droning on about politics. It was the very last thing I intended for this evening.

  What I did want was him, and I was going to to say anything and everything in hopes to shut down his conspiracy-laden speech. At least as quickly as possible.

  “It’s the adopted symbol for this ‘Great Cleanse,’ or so they’re calling it. Stetson’s planning on taking our people out, like he’s already doing to other minorities.”

  “What’re you talking about?” I was growing angry at that point and losing control of my tone. I felt my volume increasing, so I paused. I had to remember the curfew, and that time was fast approaching. I took a small breath to bring myself back down. “He’s just shipping them off to their countries. Where’s he going to ship us to?”

  “Some of them,” he said, “but those ‘prepping shelters’ or so they’re calling them…” he took a breath. “They’re being executed. I’d imagine that’s what they’ll do to us.”

  Alas, I’d given up all hope of romance. There was no getting around this conversation.

  “I don’t get it. Why don’t we just leave then? Together, just me and you,” I suggested.

  “Because no one gets in and no one gets out, remember?”

  “How can Stetson be doing this? There’s laws against this, aren’t there? Why kill everyone off?”

  “Taking lives is more affordable. Did you really think the American government was going to kindly ship everyone off to another country?” He scoffed with belittlement.

  I shot him a glowering look.

  He changed his tone and continued, “I guess the law doesn’t apply to him. They’re quietly overturning a lot of landmark amendments, and the point is, Americans are at a point where they will accept it. Because of that, Julio was the perfect setup. Stetson had to take out Cash to rise to power so all of this could happen.”

  I was having a hard time believing him at that point. While what Stetson was doing was abhorrent, why go through the efforts of executing?

  Nicolas had no facts or figures to show. He had gone from sounding like a conspiracist to a full blown hostile.

  However, I’d never expected anything like what was happening to occur. The unimaginable was already happening around me.

  If what he was saying was true, then Stetson framed Julio Hernandez for the assassination of Cash to get the whole of White America on his side.

  “How do you know all this?” I asked.

  “My parents run a multi-billion dollar company. They’re doing a whole lot more than just delivering packages,” he said matter-of-fact. “My dad said Stetson and his crew are pushing for a modernized church-based utopian government.”

  “If this is true, then you need to tell someone,” I urged. “Someone who can do something with this information.”

  “Well, as you know, the media has been bought out. Everything in the news is exactly what Stetson and his cabinet want us to think. Even if all of this got out, who’s going to stop them? They are the law. The only thing we can do is keep our heads down.”

  He seemed to keep rambling, but I eventually found myself coming and going from the conversation. My desire for him was getting the best of me. I didn’t want to talk anymore, about anything.

  I simply wanted to forget about it all.

  I craved the taste of his soft lips, the warm touch of his hands. I wanted to feel his hard body against mine. I ached for him to take me right there in the shadows, but he wasn’t giving it to me.

  “Why? Why is this all happening? One day I was going about my life, and then all this bullshit just came out of nowhere. Well, I’m over it. Just shut up!” I exclaimed.

  He seized and stared at me, completely silent. He didn’t seem to know what to make of my outburst.

  Neither did I.

  I began to march off, and just as I did, I felt his hand clutch my arm. He pulled me toward him and locked his moonlit eyes onto mine.

  He grinned. “It came from somewhere. You just weren’t paying any attention.”

  That brought me back to the day he pulled me away from the oncoming car. He knew how charming he was, and that only worsened the ache I had for him.

  “Come home with me,” I demanded. “Fuck your politics.”

  He contemplated for a moment. Then, a full smile stretched across his face and temptation sparkled in his eyes. “Lead the way.”

  Like Eve’s apple and Persephone’s pomegranate, I was his forbidden fruit, and despite the cost of recent revelations, he couldn’t resist taking another bite, nor did I want him to.

  We were both desperate to forget about the political chaos and I, the loneliness of home.

  I grabbed hold of him and pulled him out of the darkness, leading us into the glow of the lighted pathway.

  “Nicky, my boy!” exclaimed a voice from the darkness.

  Several burly, dark figures emerged out of the shadows, “woofing” at us.

  It was Moose and two other members of Alpha Omega Psi. They were all wearing their traditional red and black shirts with their new branding.

  Nicolas and I remained silent.

  “This pesky little fairy bothering you?” asked Moose as he approached, nodding toward me.

  “Leave him be, Moose,” said Nicolas.

  Nicolas gently pushed me back as he stepped in front of me.

  “Why?” Moose asked. He came around and moved past Nicolas to wrap his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t you like this?” he whispered to me as he licked my neck.

  I pulled away, but he brought me in tighter.

  “Oh come on, just having a little fun with ya,” he chuckled.

  “Moose, just let him go,” Nicolas demanded.

  I relaxed and held myself loosely, so as not to provoke Moose too soon. All the while my body thumped with fear.

  “You know, I always known there was somethin’ off with you. You always seemed to have an odd switch in your walk,” Moose said to Nicolas, while still holding onto me.

  The other fraternity members scoffed as Moose toyed with and taunted the both of us.

  “Earlier this afternoon, I overheard you two were meeting up. Thought you’d want to all hang out together,” Moose teased.

  “Don’t do this, Moose,” warned Nicolas. He stood firmly, readying himself for an attack.

  Moose disregarded his pleas and continued his antics.

  “I gotta admit, it’s been a while since I had my dick sucked… good at least,” Moose said suggestively in my ear as he reached for his pants zipper. He then pushed me down to my knees. With his massive, bear-like hand, he slapped me across the face. “Open up that pretty little mouth, faggot. You know you want it,” he said, still working at his zipper.

  Nicolas jumped at Moose and threw a right handed hook, striking him in the face. Moose faltered as the other two fraternity brothers jumped at Nicolas and began throwing punches and kicking him down. I tried to get up to stop them, but Moose grabbed me and held me in a headlock. He reeked of cheap beer and ignorance.

  “Stop,” I begged, my voice growing thin.

  “He can hit pretty good… for being a little bitch boy like you,” muttered Moose as he tightened his grip on me.

  Nicolas was pinned to the ground, defenseless. Moose had his arm wrapped around my neck, tight to the point in which I couldn’t breathe anymore. A black circle began to close around my eye
sight.

  Just as I felt my body going limp, the sprinkler system turned on, shooting cold water out from the ground and soaking all of us, causing Moose to let go. Then a bright spotlight beam flashed over the scene.

  “Hey! What’s going on over there?” exclaimed a voice from a megaphone.

  Moose let go and ran off with the other two, leaving me gasping for air.

  “Help,” I croaked as I ran over to Nicolas, “call an ambulance.”

  Nicolas was slumped before me on the ground, bloodied and unconscious.

  Ten

  I sat beside him, holding his bruised and swollen hand while he lie unconscious in the hospital bed. The sound of his vitals beeped consistently in the background, promising me that he was alive and stable.

  IVs shot into his arms, pumping him with hydration as well as painkillers. His bottom lip was cut, his face bruised and swollen, with another deep cut over his right eye. Most of the damage had been done to his body, most notably his chest, where two of his ribs had been fractured.

  That was all the information they’d share with me. The ER required you be immediate family to even be in the room, urging me to lie about being his brother. It was clear the staff saw through me, and I was grateful for them turning a blind eye. Though, I believe that’s why they withheld some information on his full status.

  I watched him breathe in and out, my heart full with admirative guilt. I was grateful he was there to save me, yet again, but it would’ve never happened had I just left him alone.

  I never imagined something of this nature to happen, especially to me or Nicolas. There needed to be justice.

  However, despite my report to the police who arrived on the scene with the paramedics, I knew that nothing would be done.

  At least not in the political climate that was rising.

  The door at the other side of the room clicked open, flooding the room with the sound of hurried shoes and medical jargon from the nurses and doctors.

  “Excuse me, who are you?” questioned a hollow voice. The emptiness in the woman’s alto was reminiscent of the echos in Nicolas’ home. A chill chased down my spine.

  I looked up to the woman in the doorway.

  She stood tall and firm bodied. There was an elegance about her. From her long neck to her catwalk arms, she silently pronounced class. Her fiery red hair was tied up in a professional bun, further stating she was someone of importance. She narrowed her emerald eyes at me as a man squeezed behind her. The man appeared to be an older Nicolas, the most noteworthy difference between the two of them being his snow white hair and chestnut eyes.

  “They must be his parents,” I thought.

  She noticed my hand as I pulled it from Nicolas and jumped to my feet.

  “Who’s this, honey?” asked the man.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” she remarked. Her powerfully arched eyebrow raised at me, demanding an answer.

  “I’m just a friend,” I stammered, “a, a classmate of Nicolas’.”

  Her cold, maternal energy overtook the room. She too saw through me.

  “Am I that transparent?” I wondered.

  “You should go,” she demanded.

  “Listen, your son saved me,” I said, proudly.

  “Oh, he did, did he?” she said, as she crossed one arm over her torso and brought her left hand to her face, resting her finger on her temple. “Now, tell me, why would he be doing a thing like that?”

  I knew that she knew what I really was to Nicolas.

  “Because that’s who he is. He’s a great man.” I leveled my tone, as I straightened my back, holding myself firmly in position.

  Our eyes locked. We were equals now.

  This left her calculating.

  “Well, you should be so grateful, then.” She began to slow her words as she lowered her voice. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you would leave, before I have security brought in.”

  Security was her last line of defense against me. I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  I nodded my head with defeat and started to see my way out of the bleach white room.

  “Wait,” said the suited man. He pressed his hand on my right shoulder to stop me. I winced a little from the bruising caused by Moose.

  “Who are you?” asked the man, still curious for a name.

  “Mĭlo,” cracked the voice behind us.

  My heart skipped with excitement. He was awake and calling my name.

  The two standing before me locked their gaze onto me.

  “Oh, it’s Mĭlo, not Mĭla. So you’re the one we’ve been hearing about,” she jeered. “Funny, the way he went on about you, I figured you were just another silly girl, but here you are,” she looked me up and down with disgust. “This is what happens when grown men play with one another. You did this to him, so I hope that you’re proud of your actions.”

  “Honey,” Nicolas’ father said, disapprovingly.

  “Mīlo, please, just go,” said Nicolas. I could hear the physical pain and exhaustion in his voice. In addition, his return to using my name like everyone else was enough for me get the hint.

  I tried to not take his request personally. I understood why he was was insisting, as first impressions had proven his unspoken allegations of his mother being a snake-like creature.

  Her tactfully venomous use of condescending tone stabbed the words deep into my being. As I thought more and more of the domineering woman, Nicolas’ conflictions made all the more sense to me, and my heart broke for him.

  The door shut quickly behind me as I left the room.

  I walked out of the hospital with the expectation that I’d never see him again, if not because of his parents, then because of Stetson. Between him rising evermore into power, and Moose and his gaggle of frat boys, I knew I needed to take some time to educate myself.

  The following afternoon, I walked down to the public library to research events related to what happened to me and Nicolas.

  The historical results of my archive digging were heartbreaking, to say the least:

  Robert Hillsborough, 1977: Stabbed to death by a man shouting “faggot” in San Francisco.

  Terry Knudsen, 1979: Beaten to death by three men in Loring Park in Minneapolis, Minnesota. A few months later, near the same place, Robert Allen Taylor was stabbed to death.

  Rebecca Wight, 1988: Shot and killed while hiking with her partner, Claudia Brenner, along the Appalachian Trail. The killer had become enraged when he saw the two of them having homosexual relations.

  Allen Schindler, 1992: A United States Navy petty officer who was stomped to death by a shipmate in a public restroom in Japan. This case became synonymous with the debate of homosexuals in the U.S. military culminating in “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  Matthew Shepard, 1998: Tortured, beaten, tied to a fence, and abandoned in Laramie, Wyoming. He was found nearly a day later and succumbed to his injuries several days after.

  Michael Sandy, 2006: Lured into meeting up after chats with four heterosexual men looking to rob him. He was struck by a car while trying to escape the attack, and he died five days later, never regaining consciousness.

  Lateisha Green, 2008: A trans woman was shot and killed because the assailant thought she was homosexual.

  I had to stop reading.

  The lists of senseless crimes seemed to go on forever. The most unnerving part about the violence was that they were mostly unprovoked. The reported perpetrators simply felt the need to attack, whether it was an act of homophobia or “God.”

  Regardless of reasoning, the way that humans treat each other is abominable.

  All historical findings considered, I was grateful for Nicolas and I to be alive. If campus security hadn’t shown up when they did, one or both of us could’ve died.

  Contrary to what I claimed several times before, I finally realized that I had been living my life in sheer ignorance, which in this case, was anything but blissful.

  I was lucky to have had a mother who supported
me and loved me regardless of my romantic interests. A mother who, despite her own warnings of hatred, insisted that I live my truth.

  Until Moose, I’d never had to face any form of discrimination in my life.

  Subconsciously, I had kept myself wrapped in a bubble and withdrew myself from the world and it’s harsh cruelties, not thinking for a second about what others may be facing. Remorse washed over me as I thought back to my old thoughts and considerations about people who were not given the luxuries I had.

  People like Nicolas, whose mother stuffed religion down her family’s throat, allowing that belief system to overrule their love and dictate every decision they made. The way Nicolas described her reminded me of my great grandmother with my mother. Nicolas’ mother seemed like the type of person who would use her God to turn her back on her own child.

  That was my greatest resentment with organized religion. If it hadn’t been for my great grandma’s devotion to the Catholic Church, maybe my life could’ve been different. Maybe my mom would have struggled less, but there’s a chance I would have turned out differently, as well. I would feel the need to hide my romances. If a child out of wedlock was unforgivable, I can only imagine how my great grandmother would’ve felt about homosexuality.

  It was then that I came to a conclusion: If we choose not to live our truths out of fear, we are doing a disservice to those who died fighting the hateful shadows for our freedom to love.

  Eleven

  There was a knock at the door. I was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with no desire to get up. I waited, with hopes that whoever it was would go away. Another knock, and again I waited until the sound boomed again, harder.

  Through the grains of the wooden door protecting me from the outside world, I heard a muffled, high-pitched voice.