Shattered Crimson

Authors Note and Warnings

I don't really like to put these at the start of my stories but I thought I'd just give out some needed warnings. Firstly this story is a M/M Slash, and therefore If you don't like it then don't read it as it contains some quite graphical scenes and more than just mentions of sexual situations. Secondly, this story has various strong themes and some quite graphical scenes of child abuse and self inflicted abuse and so once again if you don't like it then don't waste your time reading it. Finally there is some general strong language which should be taken note of.

The story is rated highly for a reason and you have been warned so if you don't like it then don't complain - I, as the author, am under 18 so can understand younger readers reading it but please keep a mature mind.

I'm sorry if this warning seems harsh to genuine readers but I just wanted to make this clear before people started reading as I do not enjoy being flamed for my writing.

Full Summary: Cameron is trying to escape his life, after all it’s always hard being a teenager but even harder when your struggling with your sexuality. Add in to the mix an abusive father, the impending loss of the love of your life and self-harm and you have a recipe for disaster. Will he succeed or will he be doomed to be alone for the rest of his life?

Prologue

“I love you,” I whispered tenderly to my best friend and boyfriend Liam as we lay together on the soft double bed that stood in the middle of his bedroom. Its sensual appeal magnified by the luxurious aroma of the various vanilla scented candles that were casting a romantic glow all around us, together with the thin silk blood-red sheets below us.

“I love you too,” Was his response, before quickly climbing on top of me and bringing his soft rose coloured lips down to meet my own; over which his tongue licked softly, teasingly; demanding an entrance that I was only too happy to provide.

It wasn’t long before the kiss deepened, gradually becoming more forceful as my legs began to entwine themselves around his waist of their own accord, a shudder running through me as he pinned my arms up above my head roughly, leaving me to feel vulnerable and exposed, yet even more aroused at the same time. No doubt the effect that he had wanted to produce. Add to this the fact that his hot breath suddenly brushed against my cheek alerting me to the fact that he had pulled away, and I found a disappointed moan escaping lips that I didn’t even recognise as my own. His response produced a further reaction in me, as he began to trace his finger tips lightly over my chest - causing me to moan more and more in to his ears, producing what could only be known as a desired excitement from him as I felt him hardening readily above me.

His fingers swiftly found their way to the fastened waistband of my jeans, my breath catching in my throat from the sheer effect of having his body pressed so tightly against mine and the thoughts of what was to come. Making quick work of the button separating us, he found his way to my black boxers and slipped his hand underneath and I felt myself hardening as he slipped them slowly down past my knees and eventually to the floor.

I felt myself sink into what I can only possibly describe as a state of “bliss” and before I knew it we were both naked, his chest beating in time with and against my own as we found ourselves once more engaged in what could only be described as a “passionate” kiss. Together as one.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked me, pulling away and sitting up in a position that would allow him a greater access to what we both actually wanted.

---

I bolted awake to find sticky beads of hot sweat dripping down my chest and back, my breathing ragged and uneven, and Liam holding me close to him in his arms.

“It was just a nightmare, everything’s alright,” Liam said in an attempt to comfort me, consequently proving how little he knew of what I was actually dreaming of as I lay in bed beside him, which was in fact the same thing that I often dreamt of - especially when I slept at his house, which was becoming increasingly more regular. I was sharing his bed and his warmth and yet still he didn’t understand.

For one brief moment our eyes connected; Liam’s bright emerald green eyes -seemingly reflecting every emotion that I myself felt inside – a complete contrast to my own which were a plain and simple dull grey. Plain and simple – just like me. I mean who exactly was I trying to kid anyway? Did I honestly believe that somebody in any way as perfect as he was would want a piece of trash like me? No, I don’t think so – but then… a hope is a hope… there doesn’t need to be any grain of reality behind it. I guess what I’m trying to say is that all I really saw in his eyes was his worry and his concern for me, because nothing will ever happen between us, no matter how many times a day I fantasize, hope or dream. We are what we are. Friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Ever.

He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently; a gesture of sympathy, maybe even one of pity but a gesture that I welcomed nonetheless. Did he even realise what his touch did to me? Would he ever? Didn’t he realise that with every single breath that escaped him, with every single feature of his well-defined body, with every single touch that he placed upon me and that every time he sent a glance my way – I’d find myself melting, slowly blending into the background around me, time stopping at a complete standstill to allow myself more pain – more time to realise that I would never have him – could never have him.

I found myself hoping for the longest amount of time that I’d perhaps find the courage to tell him how I felt – how I still feel – but then reality bites back and reminds me that he’s straight and that I’m not. I’ve played out every possible scenario in my head and on more than one occasion too; from the most likely reality: being that he would disown me and beat it out of me like my father tried to do; or to the completely insane picture: being that he would admit his own hidden feelings and we’d run away together to start a new life.

How naïve I am.

Chapter One

When I awoke again, my sleep this time remaining undisturbed by dreams – good or bad, the clock on the stand beside me was flashing its green led lights which indicated that the current time was five past seven in the morning. Liam had already vacated the bed, as was to be expected considering that he always made us breakfast before I went back to the shit hole that I called my house. I think that he must have understood on some level that my father didn’t treat me right, but I know that he didn’t understand to what extent – yet. Otherwise he would have had me out of there long ago.

Part of me wanted to tell him what happened every night when my so called “father” came in from god knows where in his usual drunken state, and part of me wanted to admit to the fact that every time I arrived at his house sporting my multicoloured array of bruises that I wasn’t just “clumsy” but that in fact my father caused them, but then I find a huge lump of disappointment and humiliation forming within myself. I guess I’m ashamed of the fact that for the last six years, since my mum was killed in a freak car accident, he has beat me and abused for no reason other than that he could. The bane of my existence.

At first it was just the shouting but as this progressed and became more violent and threatening, the beatings came. At first it would be the odd punch – not that that makes it alright, but after a while it progressed even further and soon enough it was full out assault. It was more often than not now that I would end up unconscious on the bathroom floor or my bedroom floor. Scars lined my back and stomach from the sheer force at which he would throw me into the walls or furniture, whilst more scars line my wrist from self infliction. As if this wasn’t enough, I would find him sneaking into my room night after night to violate me. Tainted. That’s what I am and always will be.

He really doesn’t know how much he’s put me through, how shit he’s made my life. Even if he doesn’t care. At first he blamed me for my mother’s death; he even said that I drove her away and that I wasn’t good enough for her. At such a young age it took me a long time to realise otherwise, but soon enough he found other reasons to beat on me: the way I look, sexuality, boredom…

I don’t see how he can beat on me, calling me a “faggot”; I mean so what if I am gay… he was calling me a faggot long before I even knew what gay was and even so is my sexuality really my fault? Is it even a fault at all? Because try as I have, I can’t seem to help the lack of attraction that I have for the female species and it’s something that I’ve never really been able to grasp. Something which has set me apart from the other people around me, the people that I have grown up with, but still something that I’ve hidden relatively well since the age of around twelve – a long time ago really considering that I was now coming up to my seventeenth birthday. Sometimes I wonder why exactly I don’t just leave my father behind and start anew, but then I realise that I can neither tolerate the humiliation of what’s happening to me nor leave Liam behind.

A sharp knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my trance, as Liam entered and headed towards the bed with a tray of buttered toast and two drinks of orange juice.

“Morning, did you sleep any better after you went back to sleep?” He asked me. “I know I didn’t.” He teased - a playful reference to the amount that I used to snore.

“Oh very funny, I did sleep a little better actually,” I answered truthfully, despite his look of disbelief. “Seriously, I’m fine.” I continued, highly embarrassed by the fact that I’d woken him up thanks to my sexual fantasy about no other than him- a fantasy that he had luckily mistaken for a nightmare owing to the way that I’d bolted awake, and the “noises” that I was making in my sleep. As he climbed back in to bed with me and his tray of toast, wearing just his boxers I tried to hide the blush creeping onto my face.

“Do you have your school stuff with you?” He asked me, looking at the clock that now said it was quarter past seven, and only an hour and fifteen minutes until school started. Finally there was going to be an end to the sheer amount torture that I had endured over half term; most people my age looked forward to the holidays, happy for the time they would spend with their friends and even their families. Me, what did I have to look forward too? Beatings? Starvation?

For the first few days I hadn’t seen anything of Liam, he went to visit some aunt in London with the rest of his family and then when he came back on Wednesday I was too bruised to see him. I ended up leaving it until Saturday evening when they had faded to the point where they wouldn’t be obvious when I moved. Luckily though, by this time my father decided to go away for the weekend, some sort of trip with his friend. It probably involved a lot of beer, prostitutes and strippers – but hey it got him off of my back so who am I to complain? He wasn’t due back until today whilst I was at school, which was why I spent the weekend with Liam.

“Erm...” I responded stupidly trying to figure out what he’d just asked me seeing as I was paying more attention to my thoughts than to him, “No I don’t but we can stop by place and pick my bag up.”

---

By quarter to eight we had both gotten dressed and were halfway down the street to my house. I refuse to call it a home seeing as it’s been a long time since I’ve seen it that way.

I was trying so hard not to pay attention to the way that Liam’s body moved as we walked; his ass highlighted by both the black jeans that he wore - which were tight where it mattered but baggy round the bottom, and the grey canvas shoulder bag that was casually bouncing with each step that he took. This, however, was to no avail because for every second that I wasn’t looking at his ass I found my eyes wandering to his well-formed chest, unfortunately covered by a tight black H.I.M t-shirt.

Myself, I wore a pair of baggy black combat style trousers with a few too many pockets and a H.IM t-shirt that was slightly different to Liam’s. Mine was a simple black with a pink heartogram on the front, whilst his favoured a picture of the lead singer – Ville Valo.

It wasn’t long before we reached my house, Liam waiting outside as usual because I was too afraid of what he might see. I often wondered if he found it strange that I had been to his house so many times but yet he hadn’t even seen inside mine, but so far I had managed to make excuses when he wanted to come over or avoid the topic altogether. How long would I be able to keep it up?

As I thought about my father, I realised that it was lucky for me that in general if he was even home at this time he was usually passed out somewhere. I took comfort in the fact that for once he wouldn’t be there – instead on his trip and I quietly headed up the driveway with a sense of dread that was slowly but surely taking over my whole body, I think it was mostly a fear of being near this house that caused it and the memories of what had happened in it rather than a fear of my father himself, seeing as he wasn’t going to be there I looked back at Liam who was casually leaning on the fence at the bottom, ignoring the mess that should have been a garden, before entering the house. When my mum was alive the garden had been beautiful and she’d spent a lot of time and money on fixing it up: a stone water feature still stood in the centre, though no longer functioning due to the amount of weeds that clogged up the pipes. I vaguely remember a time when it livened the garden up and added a sense of tranquillity.

What were once neatly trimmed hedges lining the fencing, now stood overgrown and filled with the rubbish of passers-by; the mass of weeds not unlike those that could be found in the hanging baskets by the door or in the flower beds under the window. It was hard to imagine that they had ever contained flowers when looking at the weeds that had taken their place. Even the grass had changed, once short and soft it was now knee-length and brittle. Over-grown and under cared for. A waste of space. Like me.

I opened the front door which was unlocked as usual and quickly but as quietly as I could manage closed it behind me - not wanting Liam to see inside the house, or my father, if he was about, to be woken up. The front door led into the hallway, which aside from being rather small was lined by empty beer cans of all brands and varieties, his dirty clothes and last but not least old newspapers. A door on the left led in to the living room and a quick peek inside revealed that he wasn’t in there and so I quickly moved on towards the stairs which were at the end of the hallway. On the right hand side there was another door, this time leading into a kitchen, in which even more beer cans lined the benches, the floor and even the cupboards, along with various takeaway containers – primarily pizza boxes and I knew that if I were to take a look in any one of these containers there would be some half eaten and most likely mouldy food of some description.

I headed up the stairs, which spiralled at the top dreading every little creak, and my heart most definitely skipped a beat when I saw a hand at the top of the stairs which signified that he was laid there. He was home, boy would he be pissed that I hadn’t been home last night. Taking a second to gather my nerve I slowly and, if possible, even more carefully than before headed up the stairs and climbed over his passed-out body in order to get to the hole that he called my bedroom. It had once been a clean shade of cream, but was now dirty with fingerprints and mud lining the walls, the matching cream carpet a victim of crimson blood stains and wear.

If this didn’t create a dark enough impression then the lack of light may have done. It wasn’t simply because my curtains were closed, but because of the boarded up windows behind them. I kept the curtains closed in order to hide the reminder of the prison that my bedroom used to be – even more so than it was now. He used to lock my in room with the bolt that was on the outside, for days at a time until I finally learnt “my place”. The boards serving to prevent another repeated escape through the window – my one failed attempt at running away. Thwarted by the police, the people that were supposed to help me but who actually handed an eleven year old boy back to their monster of a parent where I received a beating literally within an inch of my life, the scars lining my back another permanent reminder. Not that it was something that I could ever forget.

In the far right hand corner of the bedroom was my bed. A single metal bedstead with a particularly rough mattress and plain cream bedding that hadn’t been washed for as long as I could remember, on top of that was my shoulder bag already packed for school – ready for a quick getaway. Next to my bed was a small table supporting a broken lamp with an equally broken bulb and a couple of candles and behind the door was my single wardrobe containing the majority of my clothes and anything else that I didn’t want to leave out. Any other clothes were stored in a chest of drawers on the wall at the bottom of my bed.

I picked up the bag, carefully swinging it over my shoulder and made my way back through the mess that I came. Once again I was careful not to disturb the wreck on the floor in front of me, as I headed down the stairs.

“Heya, sorry if I took too long.” I apologised to Liam when I’d got back outside. Trying to mask my emotions.

“Nah its fine.” He replied as we were on our way towards school with just fifteen minutes left before we were late. “You coming over after school?” He asked me.

“Erm.. I have some stuff I need to do at home first, maybe afterwards though yeah?”

“Yeah that’s fine. Do you want me to make you dinner?” He offered. “Oh and before I forget my mums going to be going away on business at the weekend and she’s said you can stop with me again if you want?”

As usual he didn’t realise the effect that this had on me. Here was the guy that I’d loved for as long as I could remember offering to make me dinner tonight and then let me stay over in the coming weekend. Under any other circumstance I may have thought that this was a date.[/u][/b]