“By the Gods, Anaxantis, stop. Stop. Please, stop. I never knew. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I didn't know—”
“No, you didn't. I never told you. It's not something you tell easily. It's not an anecdote that you tell on a whim, to pass the time. Anyway... Then he forced my legs apart and put each over one of his shoulders. He lowered his pants and forced his member—”
“No, no, Anaxantis, stop, I don't need, I don't want to know—”
Hemarchidas felt an almost uncontrollable urge to put his hands over his ears and start humming, to drown out the droning voice that related these horrible things he had never suspected and that he had never wanted to know. Anaxantis looked at him and continued in the same monotonous voice, full of desperation.
“He forced his member in my... in me. I begged him not to do it. I implored him. He laughed and did it anyway. He didn't use anything to make it easier, nor did he do anything to prepare me, or to avoid hurting me. He just pushed, forced himself inside me. It felt as if I would split. It hurt excruciatingly, beyond words. And it was dehumanizing. I was nothing. Nothing but a piece of meat with a hole in to push his dick in. All the while he kept looking at me. At the least of my reactions. Smiling every time he saw he had hurt me. Laughing at my humiliation. At every twitch of my naked body, displayed for him to leer at. At my utter powerlessness...”
“No more, Anaxantis, please, no more, please, stop. I can't bear to hear anymore.”
By now every word Anaxantis spoke grated on his ears, every sentence was a cut in his flesh, every image a new, haunting nightmare. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“You can't bear to hear anymore?” Anaxantis said with a hollow sneer. He continued tonelessly, unrelenting. “And then he started fucking me. Fucking me. But even that was not enough. So, he grabbed my member and started stimulating it. He gave me an erection, an erection that I didn't want, but could do nothing about. Now it looked as if I was enjoying his... his ministrations. He moved his hand up and down, faster and faster, and there was nothing I could do. After a while I orgasmed without being able to stop it. While he looked down upon me with perverse satisfaction, enjoying himself, I writhed in an unwanted and unwelcome ecstasy, and I came. I came all over my belly. In spurts and shocks. Several of them. And he laughed. By now I was so mortified, felt so crushed, that I wanted to die, then and there, immediately. I prayed the Gods I don't believe in to take me. To kill me. To destroy me. To have mercy on me and let a flash of lightning burn me to a cinder. The only thing I could do was cry, cry and cry some more. That only seemed to stimulate him. It excited him. I felt it. He fucked me harder and harder, until he came in me...”
Hemarchidas by now was weeping and let his tears fall down freely. He wished he could go back in time and break the bastard's neck. He wished he could have been there, in time to tear that dirty, evil beast from the boy and break both his arms, and both his legs, and crush his ribs, and tear his guts out, and beat his face to a bloody pulp, and bash his skull in. With every detail Anaxantis told, he became redder in the face and sicker to his stomach from empathic pain. The pressure on his chest made breathing almost impossible.
“I wish I had never asked,” he managed to whisper.
“After he had come in me, he dragged me to my little room, kicked me in the ass for good measure and chained me to the wall again. I couldn't help myself. I started crying uncontrollably. Loudly. Very loudly. That bothered him, so he came back into my room. And he pissed on me. On my head. In my face. On my chest. On my private parts. He used me as a urinal. My mattress and beddings were soaked with his piss. I was dripping with his urine. As a wild animal he marked me, as his territory, as his possession. He said to shut up, or he would come back and beat me again...”
Anaxantis took a deep breath and remained silent, looking at the ground, supporting his head with his hands in his hair. After a long while, Hemarchidas looked at him, with tears still in his eyes.
“I'm sorry, Anaxantis. I didn't know. I didn't know. I wish there was something I could do. I wish I never, ever asked. I wish I could not know this.”
He scrambled half upright and put out his arms to embrace his friend, but caught himself in time.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I won't touch you.”
Anaxantis smiled wryly.
“It's all right, Hemarchidas. I know it's you. Don't let him take that away as well. Don't let him rob us of that.”
Hesitating, careful, as if he was afraid Anaxantis would crumble under the merest pressure, Hemarchidas put his arms around him, and he sighed with relief when he felt his friend's head resting against his chest and felt assured his embrace was welcome.
After a few minutes, Anaxantis resumed in the same detached voice.
“I knew then I wasn't master anymore over my own body. That I had totally lost control over my most basic and intimate functions. That I was completely at his mercy. And I despaired. I despaired like never before. I felt totally worthless. I thought I would die of shame and humiliation, as I sat there in the dark, stinking of his urine, wet, cold and hurting. The worst part was I felt dirty. As if it was my fault. I felt dirty for not having prevented him from using me like that. I felt dirty and guilty. I felt guilty for having come on my belly under his gloating stare. I felt dirty, guilty and worthless for having submitted to his demeaning treatment without doing anything. There are moments, every day there are moments I still feel that way... Then mother came to my aid. Mother and her harsh lessons. Like she had taught me, I let first my indignation and then my hate take over. I hated like I've never hated before, and I swore a thousand holy oaths and a thousand unholy oaths that I would get him for this. I didn't know how. I didn't know when. But, if I survived this, I was going to get him. I swore that I would repay him, not once but a thousand fold. That I would take everything away from him, everything he took from me and then the rest. Everything he had and everything he was. Piece by piece. Drop by drop. And it worked. It got me through the night and it got me through the long months that were to come.”
Hemarchidas plucked the dead leaves out off Anaxantis's hair and started stroking it.
“But eventually he let you go?” Hemarchidas half stated, half asked.
“I sort of made him. I seduced him, pure and simple. I did what I had to do. And if more had been required, I would have done that too. There was literally no limit to what I was prepared to do. Yes, eventually he set me free. After more than three months. A few days later I met you.”
“By the Gods, this is the boy I saw in the woods, hacking in on a tree, just a few days after he managed to get out of the clutches of that raging savage, that foul swine. The prince who I saw sitting on the ducal throne of Landemere, as if it was his birthright to do so and who browbeat proud Athildis into submission. The lord governor who dismounted to help a simple wounded soldier. The friend I berated because I was so petty as to feel he didn't trust me enough.
I never saw the wounded boy who all the while carried this with him.”
For the longest time Hemarchidas kept rocking Anaxantis in his arms. The tears had stopped, but the sorrowful look was still there.
“Well, some would say you fulfilled your dire oaths. You got him back. You made him renounce his name, his lineage, his status. He can't leave your apartments. He's in your hands. Powerless. Isn't it time to kill the venomous dog? To get rid of the vile monster? If you don't want to soil your hands by killing your own brother, I'll gladly do it for you. I will, you know. Quickly or slowly, just say how you want it done. It doesn't matter to me. Just say the word. It won't burden my conscience one bit to rid the world of that evil monster. And when I'm done, I'll toss his stinking remains into a watery grave.”
Anaxantis looked at him with gratitude.
“I know you would, Hemarchidas. I know you would, but I can't.”
“Why? Kill him already and have it over and done with. Then you can start forgetting... or at least leave it behind you.”
“I can't, my fr
iend, I can't.”
“But why? Why not?”
Anaxantis hesitated and let out a long sigh.
“I said I would tell you everything. So... for better or for worse, here goes. The simple truth is I can't, because I love him.”
Hemarchidas, who had thought he had heard the most important part already, startled.
“You love him?” he said uncomprehending. “Of course you love your brother, but this... this brute is not... this...”
“No,” Anaxantis said calmly. “You don't understand. I love him.”
And then Hemarchidas did understand, and his whole world collapsed upon itself. Anaxantis wasn't unattached as he had thought. Anaxantis was in love. With his brother. With the man who had raped him. And he, Hemarchidas, had been a fool, waiting patiently and silently all those months. Hoping. Longing. He thanked the Gods he hadn't dared dream beyond the point where he declared his love for Anaxantis. But the fact remained he had lost the battle for the affection of his love to a vulgar rapist. He groaned. He realized suddenly that he probably never had stood a chance. It was all decided long ago, long before they even met.
“And now you are disgusted with me,” Anaxantis stated resignedly.
“What?” Hemarchidas asked, emerging out of his self-involved brooding. “No, no, Anaxantis, I learned a long time ago that we don't rule our hearts, but that they rule us. It is not what I expected, sure enough, but who am I to judge?”
“In my tribe I was longtime considered a pervert for having feelings for other guys. I would have been an outcast, were it not for Lethoras. No, my love, I know unusual and unusual knows me. And I know the unpredictable obstinateness of the heart. I am not going to judge you. You are an extraordinary man and you have the right to be extraordinary in your likes and loves. It is the fact that I never even got a chance, that, without knowing it, I had lost the race before it even began, that I wasn't even there at the start, that is what I mourn.”
“Ehandar used to say that we're not even half brothers, most likely,” Anaxantis said sadly. “That mother... you know.”
“You love him and you hate him.”
“I love him. And I hate him because he made me hate that love. Because he made me hate him.”
He looked up at Hemarchidas, his blue-gray eyes filled with sadness.
“You know,” he continued, “all that he did... if he had told me... if he had but said that he liked it like that... I would have given it to him. Gladly. I would have let him do it. Beat me, humiliate me, degrade me, use his belt on my bare ass, rip the clothes of my body and take me brutally on the table... Even piss on me. I would have let him do it all, if he had said that it was what he needed. Or that it just was what he liked... I loved him so much... that much. You must think me such a pervert. All that and with my brother too.”
“No, no, if possible I admire you more now than before, my love—”
Hemarchidas bit his lip and blushed. Anaxantis smiled wryly and pressed his hand.
“My friend, I meant my friend... I can't imagine how you managed to carry on. To remain standing. After all that... and losing your love at the same stroke. And look what you accomplished in the face of all that befell you. You're not a victim. A horrible thing was done to you and you used it to become stronger. Not to forget, you took down that sick beast. What is there not to admire in all this. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thank you,” Anaxantis smiled weakly. “Mother would say that we can't always be in charge of what happens to us, but that we always have a choice in how we react to it.”
He sighed.
“Forgive me, I probably sound callous,” Hemarchidas said softly, “but can't you just decide? Just decide to go past your hate or past your love?”
“You have no idea what this is costing me, but I am your friend and it needs to be said.”
“Either forgive him and make up,” he continued, “or slay him and then forget him. It is in the past after all. It happened a while ago. It's time to finish this business and get on with your life.”
“A while ago?” Anaxantis said bitterly. “Yes, it was a while ago. Exactly nine months and two days ago. What's that? Nine months or nine minutes. It's the same. And it is in the past, you say? Then why is it still happening, every day, every time I close my eyes? Every time I hear someone behind me and I don't know who it is? How is it that I get an almost irresistible urge to kill anyone who happens to touch me unexpectedly? Tell me, Hemarchidas, how do I forgive, let alone forget, something that is still happening, that keeps happening over and over? How? How do I do that?”
Hemarchidas didn't know and remained silent, hoping that his arms would say what he didn't find the words for.
“So,what do you do?” he asked after a while.
Anaxantis shrugged.
“I keep him a prisoner, like he did me. Not in chains, at least not in visible ones. I keep him captive, and it almost convinces me that he can't harm me anymore. I try to keep all my thousand infernal oaths. I humiliate him. I take away something, now and again. Slowly. Deliberately. Each time he thinks he can't possibly sink lower, I push him down some more. I made him fall in love with me, made him fall hard, and then seemingly took it away again. And I don't permit him to fall out of love with me. When I sense that he is wavering, doubting, I draw him to me and make him fall in love all over again.”
“Your thousand infernal oaths.” Hemarchidas thought. “You can do nothing else but keep them, of course. You yourself told me you don't make idle threats.”
“It is so confusing,” Anaxantis resumed. “For it is not all play acting. I do love him. I do. Still, still, despite everything. And I can't bring myself to decide to forgive him or to kill him, before I am certain what happened to the rapist. Is he still there? Of course he is, he must be, he's only laying low, waiting... waiting for the first sign of weakness. Or maybe he is gone... Gods in heaven, I'm so messed up...”
He looked at Hemarchidas through his tears.
“You know,” he continued, “on New Years eve I almost, almost decided. I came so close, so close. But I can't. Not until I'm absolutely sure. It's not only me. As you said, there's too much at stake. So, for the time being, I will keep my damned oaths and I will keep taking away everything he has and is, piece by piece.
“While at the same time punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault to begin with,” Hemarchidas silently commiserated.
“That's harsh,” he said. Then, after a pause, “But nothing that he doesn't deserve.”
“You think so? Can you picture the proud, haughty prince he used to be? The austere, grumpy lord governor who broke no contradiction? Now picture this. I keep him naked. Like a wild animal. Not a stitch of clothing on him. Bare. At my beck and call. I order him around. Make him do menial little jobs. I touch him where and when and in what manner pleases me. I look him over from his blushing face to his bare feet, because I know it embarrasses him immensely. You would think he would grow used to it, to being naked. Still, when I enter the room his first reflex is to cover his dick and balls... I make him crawl around on all four, like an animal, and I stare at his asshole and make sure that he knows I do. Just like he did with me. It devastates him. I take it further still. I pat him, like you would a dog, but on his bare ass. Sometimes I casually touch his dick until it rises and then I leave him standing there with his erection. And I'm not done. Far from... I watch him. I study him. Carefully. Meticulously. I look out for the rapist in him, but I can't seem to find him anymore. He must be there somewhere. Buried. Hidden. But he's disguised as a lover. He hides behind the mask of devotion. Every time I take away something new, every time I administer a new blow to whatever remains of his pride, I think that surely now he must come out of hiding. That finally I will see him again. Him, that did this to me. Him that took away my ability to love, to trust. Him that defiled me and defiled my love for him. And one day maybe I will. And then, then I will kill him.”
Anaxantis had spoken as in
trance and looked, without seeing, straight before him. Then he seemed to waken.
“Still think he deserves all that?”
At first Hemarchidas didn't know what to say anymore, but very soon his inborn loyalty took over.
“Yes. Yes, I think he deserves it. Far, far more importantly, you, you deserve it. You deserve your chance at revenge. No, at healing. If it helps you to feel back in control again to see your tormentor at your mercy, if it gives you back your self confidence, even a fraction of the dignity he stole from you, if it helps you deal with... with... it, yes, yes, and again, yes, he deserves every last scrap of what he's getting. You have a right, an inalienable right to reparation.”
Anaxantis sighed deeply and looked at him with pain visible on his face.
“Ah, you see, you speak of healing, of reparation. If only... You speak of revenge and even that would be preferable to the truth. Actually... I like it. I like seeing him crawl down before me... I like it that he is mortified when I stare at his private parts. It... it... it excites me...”
“What do you mean...?”
“That it arouses me, damn you,” Anaxantis said, raising his voice in frustrated anger and self-revulsion. “I get a hard on from treating him like that. I've never gotten harder than when I pat his ass and see in his eyes how demeaning that is for him. Or when I look at his hole, and he knows it, and he realizes that, although he is cringing inside with utter shame, there is nothing he can do about it... And then I hate him all the more. For having awakened these monsters in me. For having given me this appetite, this craving. Which I never knew I had. Which I never wanted. Which I am ashamed of. Which I can't resist.”
The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse) Page 35
