by Quil Carter
“It’s none of your fucking business,” Sasha suddenly snapped; the harsh tone, unheard of for the meek young man, sounding like it was coming from someone else. “If you’re only going to come in here and yell at me, just leave. I didn’t ask you to come here.”
Lex’s eyes widened. “I was requested here,” he said through clenched teeth. “By the only fucking friend you have. You only have two people in this world who give a shit about you, Sasha, I’d start treating them better.”
“Lex…” Jobe cut in. “He’s had a bad night. Lay off.” Jobe put a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “He’s just worried, baby. We only want to know what happened so we can help you.”
Sasha shook his head, his eyes still locked with Lex’s. “He doesn’t want to help me,” Sasha said. “He only wants to control me and dangle shit above my head so he can use it to make me do whatever he wants.”
“I gave you a fucking apartment with dirt-cheap rent and I feed and medicate you,” Lex growled. “You’d be on the streets sucking cock for Xanax if it wasn’t for me.”
“Yeah, you remind me of that a lot,” Sasha said back. “I’m forever in your debt. Thanks, Uncle Lex. Now go away. I’m… I’m fine.”
Lex’s teeth ground together. “This is what I fucking get for caring,” he spat to Jobe. “This is my thanks for taking the little shithead in and ruining my fucking life having to raise his unappreciative, manically-depressed ass.” He stalked towards the interior door, the one separating Sasha’s suite from the main part of the house, and opened it. “Don’t call me for this shit again, Jobe. I’m done.” And with a slam of the door, he was gone.
Sasha tuned away from Jobe and walked back to his bedroom.
“Sash…” Jobe called after him. He walked into the bathroom first and retrieved Sasha’s small First-Aid kit, and followed him into the bedroom.
Sasha was sitting on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest with both arms around them. He was staring at his feet, both eyes large orbs.
Jobe sat down on the bed and gently encouraged Sasha to give him his wounded arm.
“Forget him, baby,” Jobe whispered. He took out some antiseptic and began cleaning the worst of the cuts. “It’s just me and you now… I won’t tell him anything.”
Sasha stared down at his arm, but made no move to retract it from Jobe’s gentle touch. He was quiet as Jobe cleaned it with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic but winced when Jobe tried to squeeze the wound closed.
He reached into the First Aid kit and got out a hook and a bag full of sutures. “Baby, did… did that voice tell you to cut yourself?”
Sasha’s body stiffened and an uncomfortable air filled the bedroom. Jobe watched him as discreetly as he could, one eye on Sasha’s face, the other threading the thin suture through the metal hook.
“No…” Sasha whispered. “It wasn’t him… he didn’t tell me to leave the car either. I left… I left to go on a walk.”
Jobe’s heart jumped, but like it was being jumpstarted by a defibrillator, electricity also rushed through it. He wanted to stop what he was doing and hang on Sasha’s every word, but he knew playing it as casual as he could would be his ticket to getting his friend to talk.
“And… what happened, baby?” Jobe asked kindly. He rubbed beside the wound in a soothing manner, before, as quickly as he could, he hooked Sasha’s skin with the hook and pulling the thin wire through. There were benefits in having Lex work in the medical field, he’d learned all of these advanced First Aid tricks and had passed the knowledge onto Sasha. It was a necessary thing to do considering Sasha did get injured more than usual, and if he didn’t know he could go to Jobe and Lex for care, he’d most likely bleed out in his room.
“I…” Sasha watched as Jobe drew the two pieces of skin together, forming a tight and neat little stich. Jobe thought for a second that Sasha wouldn’t answer him, but then, with another uncomfortable shifting movement, he said in a subdued voice. “I was… jumped.”
Jobe tried not to react at this news, but his mouth went dry and anger flared up inside of him. He brought himself back to the party and tried to think of anyone who had disappeared, but there had only been about twenty people, seven of those being women, and none of them had vanished unexpectedly. Everyone had taken a car there too.
Whoever it is, I’ll find out, and I’ll fucking end him.
“Did he rob you? Or… they?” Jobe asked, forcing his tone to remain neutral.
“Two of them… dressed in black robes,” Sasha whispered.
Jobe looked up at him. “Black… robes?” No one at that party was wearing black robes. No one… sane wore black robes in public.
“Yeah,” Sasha whispered. Then his face turned anxious, Jobe wasn’t sure why, until he realized the shift had happened when Sasha had seen the expression on Jobe’s face.
“I’m not making this up, Jobe,” Sasha said angrily. “They – one of them injected me with something. They’re… I don’t know, they fucking acted like they knew me. One of them was able to make it so… so my head went all fuzzy and calm. I think he has… I don’t know, a way of fucking with your mind.”
Jobe’s heart fell. He looked up from Sasha’s wound as he tightened the last remaining stitch and gave him a devastated look. “Sasha, baby… you know that’s not possible.”
Sasha wrenched his arm back. “I’m not fucking crazy,” he snapped. “They…” His face went red. He grabbed a pair of scissors resting in the First Aid kit and cut the last suture away. “They… I don’t know why… but… they wanted my blood and…” Sasha’s face turned red. “…and other stuff.”
“Other… stuff…?” Jobe asked slowly. The bile rose in his stomach, pushing the rock that had been forming up into his throat. What had been relief and intrigue from Sasha opening up to him, had turned to dread and concern quickly.
And what was worse? Sasha wasn’t lying. Sasha wasn’t the type of person to lie for attention, or to make up shit. He was brutally honest and he’d usually tone down everything, not wanting anyone to worry about him, or to single himself out.
Which meant… Sasha himself believed his own words.
“Stop looking at me like that!” Sasha suddenly cried. He was looking at Jobe like he’d just slapped him, fucking walked right up to him and backhanded him across the face. “I’m not lying!”
“Calm down,” Jobe whispered. He held out his hands, as if trying to physically soothe the invisible chaos he could see swirling around his friend. “I believe you, baby. I believe you think that happened.”
“It fucking did!” Sasha cried. “They… they acted like they knew me… and they…” He put a hand on his forehead and suddenly his face creased in pain. “…I don’t know why, but they… they didn’t just…” Sasha’s eyes closed, his lips retracted to show two rows of pressed teeth. “I gotta go… to the bathroom, my… fuck, my head.”
Sasha rose and quickly left the room. Jobe got up and trailed him, but the bathroom door closed, then locked, leaving Jobe standing in the hallway.
And he wasn’t alone, lurking in the doorway that separated their two sides of the house, was Lex. He had a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.
“I heard…” Lex said, his voice low. He looked down at the money. “I… was going to make peace with him. I felt bad for what I said. Did… did I really hear right? He thinks he was jumped by two guys in black robes?”
“Who… wanted his blood,” Jobe whispered back. He motioned towards Lex’s side of the house with his jaw and they walked to the other side of the door, away from Sasha’s earshot. “I – he thinks that’s what he saw. I think… I think…” Jobe’s eyes began to fill. “I think something’s really wrong with him, Lex. And we can’t keep ignoring it, like that fucking voice he hears.”
Lex’s green eyes deflected from Jobe, and Jobe saw them grow large. He stepped back and leaned up against the wall, before running a hand down his face. “He’s fucking getting worse,” Lex whispered. He shook his head, and when he saw the
expression of agony on Jobe’s face, he opened his arms. Jobe sniffed and walked into Lex’s embrace. “We… we both fucking said as long as he wasn’t hurting himself…”
“…and he is now,” Jobe said, his voice so small Lex was only able to hear it because they were still in each other’s arms. “He’s not only cutting himself again. He’s… he’s seeing things.” Jobe pulled away and wiped his eyes. “He needs help.”
Lex rubbed Jobe’s shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “And we can’t give him the help he needs.” An uneasy feeling imbedded itself in Jobe’s stomach, and when Lex spoke again, he knew why. “We’re going to have to give him some tough love, Jobe. We can’t keep doing this Sasha’s way, because Sasha’s way isn’t working. He needs medication, but before that… we have to bring him to someone who knows what kind of medication and help he needs. I – I’m going to put my foot down and tell him he has to visit Dr. Daniels.”
Dr. Daniels, or Tom. He was Lex’s friend and a psychiatrist. Jobe had never met him before, but he’d heard of him a lot in the past several months. Lex had brought him up more than once, usually while threatening Sasha, but Jobe had never met him. The way Lex threatened Sasha with him, Dr. Daniels seemed more like a boogeyman than a licenced psychiatrist.
However, in the situation Jobe had found himself in, the man was more like a dream than a nightmare, a cracked-open door that would hopefully lead to Sasha getting the help he needed.
“I’ll invite Sasha over for dinner tomorrow,” Lex said, and they both heard the tap in the bathroom turn off. “And I’ll invite Tom too, ask him to come once dinner is over. I’ll load Sasha on Xanax beforehand, maybe give him a bit of liquor. When he’s on the two he gets really talkative and calm.” The unease was clear on Lex’s face, but Jobe saw another emotion mixed in… desperation.
The bathroom door opened and Lex and Jobe walked out into the hallway.
Sasha emerged, a towel being held against his wound. He immediately froze upon seeing both of them standing in the hall, and gave the two cautious looks.
“I’m sorry,” Lex said to Sasha, and of course, the cautious look deepened. “I want you to come over for dinner tomorrow, and if you do… and forget the shit I said to you…” Lex held the twenty out to Sasha. “I’ll give you twenty bucks.”
Sasha stared at the twenty, and as he extended his arm to get it, Jobe saw blood smudged against the beige towel. “Okay,” he said in a weak tone. “I’ll come just… leave me alone.” And with that, Sasha turned from them, and walked into his bedroom.
The door closed behind him.
CHAPTER 4
Sasha lifted up the blinds that were drawn over his bedroom window and peeked outside. It was still daylight, but only for another hour or so. Soon darkness would come, and with that darkness, Sasha knew the anxiety would follow.
In all respects, it wasn’t like those strange robed men needed nighttime to attack him, that was as plausible as a kid who thought hiding under their blankets magically made monsters unable to see them. But there was just something about the darkness that infested one’s heart with anxiety, so Sasha made sure that everything was locked and shut down the moment twilight hit.
Sasha sighed, a feeling of intense hatred rising up before slamming down on his shoulders like a pouncing lion. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry at himself, or rather, what new reason he had. He was just upset, anxious… and really scared.
What the fuck had happened? And why had it happened? A part of Sasha dearly wished that the weed he’d smoked had been laced with something, some sort of hallucinogen, but he knew he’d never be that lucky. The fact of the matter was… two men in black robes, one named Kel and one named Kheva, had ambushed him.
They’d stolen my blood… and my fucking cum.
Why!?
At least… they don’t know where I live. I’m like thirty miles from Dave’s house––they can’t find me here. And since I’m never going outside again… they’ll never find me.
But even though he’d said this over and over again in his head, until it was gospel, when Sasha let go of the blinds he made sure, for the third time, that the window was locked. Then he left his bedroom and laid down on his couch.
He reached over and grabbed two blue Xanax pills then swallowed them with a drink of Dr. Pepper.
Sasha had tried for two desperate years to convince Jobe and Lex that he was okay. Well, not okay, just not… as insane and unstable as they thought he was… but in light of recent events, Sasha was wondering if they were right.
Maybe he had done all of this to himself?
No, Sasha said sternly and he shook his head. I have the cut on my arm to prove it, and the aching in my balls too. Something had fucking happened… and I don’t know what.
Sasha glanced at the clock, his new burl clock courtesy of Jobe, and saw that he had an hour to kill before dinner at Uncle Lex’s. Lex was making spaghetti that night with garlic bread and caesar salad, one of Sasha’s favourites. It wasn’t often that Lex actually felt bad about what he’d said when they fought, but when he did, Lex always said his sorries with food, money, or sometimes both.
Lex might he an asshole at times, but Sasha appreciated the apology. He was actually looking forward to dinner with him and Jobe; the food was going to be good, he would get the leftovers, and… it would be a good distraction.
And Sasha dearly needed a distraction. The more he was alone with his thoughts, the worse it got. He needed a break right now, a break from the inner voice in his head that kept tormenting him, torturing him like he was a prisoner inside of his own mind.
Sasha got up and peeked out of the blinds again, and just like last time, another wave of self-hatred swept him. They didn’t know where he lived, there was no fucking way they knew…
‘They’re watching you, Sasha,’ the voice murmured. ‘Watching you. Watching you.’
“Shut up!” Sasha cried. He grabbed his hair with both hands and clenched it. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up!” He wrenched his fists down, and what followed was the twanging sound of hair being ripped out of his scalp, followed by a rush of stinging pain.
Sasha whimpered. He opened his eyes, not even aware that they had been closed, and looked down at his hands, each holding tufts of black hair. Sasha sniffed, let the hair fall to the floor, and sat down on the couch, his eyes stinging and watering.
If I realized when I first started having issues, that my life would be like this… I would’ve killed myself long ago.
This isn’t a life.
I knew from a young age that I was different from everyone else, and once I became a self-aware teenager, I just assumed I’d grow out of it. Everyone else was out being social, getting drunk at parties and having promiscuous sex. I was at home writing or drawing, with no desire to go out with friends and act like an idiot. I didn’t like large crowds and I hated when Uncle Lex had company over. I’d hide in my room and stay there until they left.
Lex was so relieved when I told him I was gay, because he assumed that was the reason I was so anti-social and low all the time. What was worse, was that was what Lex blamed everything on after that. All of my problems were because I was gay in his eyes, when in truth, I didn’t care that I was gay. I didn’t even realize people had issues with it until I began paying attention to the American news. My uncle had never hidden the fact that he was gay. I’d grown up with it just being normal, something that happened to some people.
Eventually, I only got worse. Uncle Lex’s prying soon became frustrating. I was beginning to hate life, hate myself, hate this mind that wouldn’t stop thinking, stop overanalyzing, buzzing around like a nest of wasps, and Lex would fucking sit me down with a sad look, and tell me being gay was nothing to be ashamed of.
It’s not that Uncle Lex…
I’m depressed because I’m scared. I’m hearing a voice inside my head that keeps reminding me of what a fuck up I am. I’m never happy, I wake up not wanting to get out of bed, and eventually I’d cut just to pu
nish myself for being such a messed-up piece of shit, such a drain on everyone I love.
And he didn’t understand, and if it wasn’t for Jobe, I might’ve just killed myself from feeling so alone and isolated. That guy came into my life when I was hanging off of the edge by my fingertips, and pulled me back up. He listened to me, understood me, he was supportive.
But now… but now I can see in his eyes that his support is waning. I see that he’s tired of the stress and drama I bring into his life, and that he’s starting to agree with Uncle Lex… I’m insane.
I’m scared of pushing Jobe away, but I don’t have anyone else. What’s worse? He doesn’t understand what I’m going through. I’m so fucking alone. I’m in a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, begging for help, but everyone around me is deaf.
What is happening?
A burning came to Sasha’s eyes, and his face tightened. What the fuck is going on?
Then, a low, threatening laugh sounded in the back of Sasha’s head. ‘You’re a fucking mental case,’ the voice hissed. ‘You’ll never know and you can never tell Jobe and Lex the truth. They won’t understand. It’ll be just another thing that crazy fucking Sasha does. One more thing to add to the list of why they hate you.’
Sasha shook his head, but the voice only chuckled. ‘You’re fucked up, a useless piece of shit. You might as well just kill yourself before you drag down those you love. They hate you, they don’t want to be around you. No one wants to be around you. No one understands you.’
A sob sounded, Sasha cupped a hand over his mouth to try and stifle it. “I just want to be normal,” he croaked. He drew his knees up to his chest, and though he tried to stop them, the tears continued to flow. “I hate being so alone in this. Why can’t I just meet one person who understands me?”
But in a sweep of cruelty, Sasha’s only response to his desperate plea was a throb of pain in his head, followed by a low nausea-inducing gnaw, one that signalled a migraine was near.
