The Debt

by Tyler King

  She slapped me. Hard. Smacked the callous, sarcastic remark right off my lips. My entire body went rigid. My face was hot from where she’d hit me, fists clenched with rage. Trey jumped between us and put Hadley behind him. Corey grabbed my shoulder in one strong hand, planting me in place. She fought against Trey, screaming at me, but I didn’t hear most of it past the anger and blood rushing between my ears.

  “I’m never going to forgive you for this,” she swore. “You did this to yourself, you bastard. You! Remember that, Josh.” Her eyes were dark and deadly as she stared right through me.

  She couldn’t know how much that one stung. Yes, I had let her go, but for reasons I had no control over. For a moment there, I almost blurted it out. The reason I’d never be good enough for her. Maybe just to hurt her.

  “Let’s go.” Corey opened the door behind me, poking his head out to make sure the Punkyfucker was gone. “Come on, man. Let her cool off.”

  He wrapped his arm over my shoulder, pushing me out the front door barefoot and shirtless. We hopped in his Jeep, and I let Corey cart me off, my brain fried and my heart dissected on the floor of the foyer.

  * * *

  We were silent as Corey drove down the two-lane road surrounded by the dark forest on either side. The only sound passing my ears was the wind rushing through the vehicle and the echo of the barbell in my tongue flicking between my teeth.

  With the windows down, I sucked in as much fresh air as my lungs would take, but my chest was tight. No matter how I commanded my body to relax, I couldn’t pry my fingers from my clenched palms. My eyes burned as I fought not to close them. Not that it mattered. Open or otherwise, all I saw was the bastard levered over her, Hadley’s legs around his hips and her head tossed back with her lip between her teeth. My stomach turned, cold sweat coating my skin.

  “Pull over,” I demanded.

  “Josh, I think you need—”

  “Now.” I unlatched my seat belt and grabbed the door handle. “Pull over, man.”

  He drifted to the side of the road, coming to a stop in the darkness with only his headlights illuminating my path to the tree line. I bolted from the Jeep, bracing one hand on a tree and the other on my thigh as I vomited. My stomach heaved, tossing out its full contents in two, three, four forceful convulsions. I stood there for a while, gasping for air and spitting the vile taste from my mouth. My head pounded, throbbing at my temples.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded and stood upright. “I just—”

  “I know. No worries.”

  When I turned around, Corey tossed me a rag and a bottle of water. I wiped off my mouth and chin, stuffing the rag in my back pocket. Taking mouthfuls of water, I swished and spit until the taste was gone. My muscles were still tense, my skin too hot and too cold at the same time, but I was feeling somewhat better.

  “Thank you.”

  “You got it, brother.”

  Together, Corey and I leaned against the side of his Jeep, both of us staring at the black forest ahead.

  “What do you want to do now?” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “The range is still open for a couple hours.”

  “Probably shouldn’t give me a firearm right now.”

  “We could hit up the bar by my place. They won’t card us.”

  “Nah. I’d start a fight and you’d have to jump in and save my ass.”

  “You could go take a freezing dip in the Pacific.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea, all things considered. Sitting by the water and clearing my mind would be the most peaceful way to get my head on straight. But seeing as how it was still a bit crooked and discombobulated at the moment, I opted for something completely fucked instead.

  “Take me to Bear’s shop.”

  “You want to get inked now? Isn’t there a rule about that or something?”

  “Probably,” I agreed. “There should be.”

  Never get something engraved on your body with a broken heart.

  I jumped in the Jeep. “But I’m not getting a tattoo.”

  * * *

  We stood in the fluorescent lobby of Pins & Needles. The walls were covered in rows of hanging portfolios displaying each tattoo artist’s favorite works. The two glass cases that separated the waiting area from the artist stations held body jewelry along with hats and T-shirts with the shop’s logo.

  “As your friend,” Corey said, his hands gripping both my shoulders, “I’m telling you not to do this. It isn’t worth it.”

  “It’s cool.” I was a little drunk on the idea by that point. “She’s a professional. Mia’s going to take real good care of me.”

  “You’re going to regret this. Let me get you drunk. Fuck, I’ll get you high if that will make you feel better. I’ll take you out back and knock you around a bit if you just want it to hurt. But don’t go back there with that chick and let her do unnatural things to your dick.”

  “I can hear you,” Mia shouted from the back of the shop. “You want to be next, Corey?”

  He shivered, cupping his crotch and backing away. “I’m not watching this.”

  “Good,” I laughed. “I don’t need an audience.”

  “I’m going outside. Maybe across the street. I don’t want to hear the screams.”

  Corey shoved through the front door, the bell overhead signaling his retreat.

  Time to soldier up.

  I walked to the room at the back of the shop and reclined in the cushioned chair. While Mia closed the door and yanked on a pair of latex gloves, I pulled open my jeans and slid them with my boxers down enough to pull out my cock. She opened the plastic packages, taking out her sterile torture implements and preparing them on the cart next to her stool.

  Mia’s eyes landed on my dick. “I need to measure so I can choose the proper length for the piercing,” she told me.

  “Yeah. Go ahead.”

  “I need you to be erect. If the barbell is too short, you’re going to be in a world of pain the first time you get hard.”

  “Right. That makes sense.” I watched her face for a moment. “Do I just—”

  “I’ll step out. You call when you’re ready.” She walked out and closed the door behind her.

  I was left with my flaccid dick hanging out of my pants, a lost look on my face.

  I had considered getting the apadravya for a while and had done the research on healing and care after the fact. I must have skipped over the part where I had to jerk off in the shop. Had other men sat in this reclined chair—like at a dentist’s office—and tugged it? That launched me right off the thing.

  In the middle of the small room, I stood with my pants open around my hips. Every black wall was covered in sketches and various photos of happy customers; among them were a few images of disembodied breasts with rings or barbells in them. Those weren’t bad. In any case, I had to just get this over with.

  Trying my best to clear my mind, I reached down and massaged my limp cock. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as I stroked myself with one hand and cupped my sac with the other. For a brief moment, I felt the recent disaster try to invade my mind, but I shoved it aside. Instead, it was me spread over Hadley’s naked body. It was my lips at her neck, my back that her nails dragged down. I pumped myself, imagining the warmth of her pussy as I slid in and out, filling her on every thrust.

  Yep, that did the trick.

  I hung hard and throbbing, no release in sight. Shoving it back inside my boxers, I poked my head out the door and called Mia back in. She was now only the second chick I’d ever let see my junk—a profound moment for me at nineteen. Except this woman was about to put a new hole in the head of my cock. I had to remind myself that I volunteered for this.

  She glanced at my hard-on as she closed and locked the door behind her. Unwrapping a marker-type thing from a plastic package, she sat down on her rolling stool and slid over in front of me. I reached in and pulled it out, letting it hang in front of her face. It jumped a little. Fucking embarrassing.
But Mia didn’t react, just went about her business to measure the distance from the underside of the head to the top. With the marker, she drew two tiny points on either end.

  “This is going to look good. I promise.” She fiddled around with her instruments for a bit before sliding her stool over again. Holding up a cotton swab soaked in alcohol, Mia gestured at my junk. “You want to do this part? The area needs to be cleaned.”

  “Have at it,” I told her. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  She swabbed around the head of my dick and then up and down the shaft. I winced when she headed for my scrotum next. It was cold, the antiseptic tingling the hypersensitive skin.

  “Okay. This is going to hurt. A lot. But I’m quick,” she said. “It’s just like your tongue piercing. Go ahead and lie down.”

  I swallowed down a mouthful of nothing and hopped onto the dentist chair.

  “So...” Mia rolled her stool over and looked me in the eyes as she gave me the rundown. “I’m going to place a clamp over the head of your penis. I’ll use this needle to pierce through the marks I made, then slip the bar through. That’s it. Fast and painful.”

  Her smile was light and encouraging. I laughed out a nervous breath.

  “You want something to bite down on?”

  “No. I’ll suck it up.”

  “Don’t bite your tongue, because I promise you, you’ll chomp right through it. And if you kick me, I’ll stab you in the eye.”

  “I’ll keep my shit together.” Preparing myself, I adjusted in the chair once more. “Ready.”

  “Okay. Deep breath. And let it out,” she said, applying the clamp.

  It was uncomfortable but not too painful.

  Mia lined up the needle to the marks she’d made. “This is the worst of it. Lock it down, MacKay.”

  I steeled myself.

  “Deep breath.”

  I filled my lungs.

  “And let it—”

  “FUCK!”

  * * *

  “Don’t worry,” Mia said after I came to. “A lot of guys pass out.”

  I chugged a can of soda to get my sugar up and tried to avoid looking at the bloodstains on the front of my boxers. Why was this shit legal?

  “You know the drill: keep it clean, don’t remove the piercing.” She handed me a printed sheet of paper with the usual care instructions. “Everyone’s different, but it could take up to six months to heal. I wouldn’t recommend a lot of activity in that area until then.”

  That wasn’t going to be a problem.

  A few minutes later, I was cleaned off, bandaged—my cock had bled like Carrie in the shower scene—and putting my pants back on. In the lobby, I found Corey sitting with his knee bouncing. He looked like a terrified about-to-be daddy who’d been kicked out of the delivery room.

  “You did it?” Corey wouldn’t look at me, afraid I was strutting around with my cock hanging out and a huge, angry piece of metal sticking from both ends.

  “Piece of cake. Didn’t hurt a bit.”

  On the way home, we stopped at an overlook off the highway that had a fantastic view of the Pacific shore below.

  “I bet you want that drink now,” Corey laughed. “I can’t believe you went through with it.” He spoke over his shoulder, not looking at me while I stripped out of my jeans.

  The ride from Bear’s shop had been brutal on my wounded dick. Every pothole felt like a hammer going to town on my shit. My cock throbbed, and not in a good way. I questioned the wisdom of the sadistic act I had allowed Mia to perform on me. Fucking bitch. I didn’t mean that, of course, but just the same. Fucking cock-stabbing bitch.

  Now dressed in only my boxers, I sat next to Corey on the bench that overlooked the beach below. It was windy and I was almost naked, but freezing my ass off was still better than going home. The barbell in my tongue clicked against my teeth as I contemplated what awaited me there.

  “They say it’s supposed to feel pretty goddamn great when you have sex,” I offered up in my own defense.

  At the moment, however, I questioned whether my cock would ever function again. Just the thought of getting a hard-on and trying to stick it inside a tight space, pushing and pulling, was enough to make me nauseated. Life as a monk started to look good.

  Corey eyed me with pity.

  “Don’t do that,” I warned him.

  He didn’t have to say it, so I’d rather he not.

  “I’m just saying eventually. At some point.”

  He stared at me, which was worse than pity.

  “Oh, fuck it.” My fingers ran through my hair and scratched at the back of my neck. “I’m not there yet, okay? It’s been—”

  “Two years,” he answered. “You told her to move on, and she did. Maybe you should stop kicking yourself and do the same.”

  “That wasn’t moving on,” I grumbled. “That was—I don’t know—punishment. Where the fuck did she even find that guy? For that matter, why would she bring him to the house if it wasn’t to shove him in my face?”

  “Those are all good questions. But I think you should stop and consider for a minute that maybe it isn’t about you.”

  “Of course it’s about me. It’s about us, what I did to her, and the fact that she’s stuck with me when she’d rather use my skull as a decorative vase.”

  “What Hadley said was harsh,” he admitted. “But you know she didn’t mean it. She was pissed. Dude, you were out of hand back there. Seriously, Josh, what got into you? And why the hell would putting a hole in your dick be the answer?”

  “I’m in love with her.”

  It was the first time I had said the words out loud to anyone except my parents. I had never told her.

  “Pretty much always have been.”

  “So, you want to tell me the real reason why you two used to be Bonnie and Clyde and now you’re...whatever the fuck you are?”

  I locked up, shut down, and retreated back behind the gates. Corey didn’t push the issue, but I knew he was disappointed.

  * * *

  I walked inside the house with my bare feet covered in grime and my jeans in my hand. When I managed to hobble my ass upstairs, Hadley was sitting against my bedroom door.

  “What happened to you?” She grimaced at my appearance.

  “I let Mia pierce my cock.” I opened the door and stepped around her.

  She got to her feet behind me as I went straight for the bathroom and started the faucet in the tub to wash my feet and get some feeling back in my frozen toes.

  “You did what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah, I heard you, but I don’t believe it.”

  I turned around and pulled it out to give her a glimpse of my dick with a gauze cap on it.

  “Shit, Josh. I didn’t need to see that.”

  I tucked myself back inside my boxers and sat on the edge of the tub while I let the water run over my dirty feet. Hadley reached past me to grab the bottle of body wash and squeezed it under the faucet until bubbles started to erupt around my feet. She sat down next to me, facing the sink behind my back.

  “Why did you do this now?”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Josh.” Hadley sighed in exasperation.

  “I don’t know.” Because I hoped if I ever did use my dick again, maybe the sensation of a piece of hardware would chase off the panic attacks. Something, anything different to disrupt the pattern. “Why do I do any of the stupid shit I pull? I’m fucked up.”

  “Stop it.” She grabbed my bicep, twisting me until I looked at her. “You can’t use that excuse with me. Honestly, I’m sick and tired of hearing it. Tell me the truth.”

  I glared at her, those accusatory eyes that saw right through me.

  “The same reason I asked you to draw this.” I pointed at the raven on my chest. “The same reason I got the fucking tattoo. The same reason I pulled that sweaty dipshit off of you. What magic truth do you think there is?”

  Hadley bowed her
head, exhaling as she closed her eyes, and took her hand from my arm. “You should go back to therapy.”

  “Pass.”

  “I mean it.”

  “You first.”

  That had escalated quickly, as was typical. Any time we tried to make up and play nice after an argument, it just turned into a worse fight. We taunted each other, picking at the scabs that only we knew how to find. It was our pattern, and the same reason why we had never—probably would never—get to the part where we talked about the night I’d left her.

  I couldn’t fathom a day that I’d ever be able to look her in the eyes and give her the real reason. For that matter, I think her patience with hearing a reasonable excuse had long since evaporated. I’d missed my window of opportunity a long time ago.

  “I’m sorry I slapped you, Josh.”

  “I deserved it.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Oh, yeah, I did. Because I’m sorry I hurt you and made you feel embarrassed in your own home.” I looked up, meeting her eyes. “I deserved it, because I’m not sorry about him. I’d do it again. That’s just the truth.”

  “It still bothers you that much?”

  Watching some guy screw the girl I loved? “Yeah. It really fucking bothers me.”

  There. That was honesty. That was opening up. And it made me nauseated.

  “And you won’t go back to therapy?”

  “Not a goddamn chance.”

  “Then maybe it’s time you try.”

  Hadley slid her hand to the back of my neck and rubbed her thumb back and forth under my ear. There was an odd expression on her face that I couldn’t read. It was sort of solemn and hopeful all at the same time. My heart started to pound against my chest, because for just a second, I thought she might kiss me.

  Just like that? All could be forgiven, and she’d just take me back if I stopped acting like a jackass all the time?

  “How?” I asked.

  I’d do anything if we could sweep it all under the rug and pretend it had never happened. Fuck, if she took me back, I guess I could consider going back to therapy if only so I could make love to her without wanting to tear my skin off. I couldn’t go through that with her again. I couldn’t put her through that.