A Type of Violence



You have no idea how hard this is.

Really.

You don't.


When your best friend in the world turns to you and quietly confesses that he's gay. Of course, I didn't believe him.

"But you're married! You just got married last year!"

"I know, I know." he said, looking at me with sad eyes. "I love her. But it's not...I mean, we, we do that, but it's not the same."

"So why are you telling me?" I asked, half-annoyed, half-dreading the answer I already knew was coming.

"Simon, I...I love you."

"I know you love me, you've told me for years."

"No, I mean, I love you...I want you."

I sat up like a bolt from a crossbow. "No." I said it without thinking. "Get away from me."

"But - but Simon! Please!" he leaned forward, trying to touch my shoulder. I smacked his hand away like he was a fondling stranger.

"Get out of my room!" I said loudly, standing up and pointing at the door. "Get out before I throw you out! I can't believe I trusted you for so long and you didn't tell me you were like that."

As he left, I turned away and told myself that those weren't tears in his eyes.

**

I avoided him everywhere I could. Every time we were together in public I silently boiled when he hugged or kissed me. Now that I knew - now that I knew he was a dirty fag, every touch was different. I knew what he was and it felt like he was violating me with his touches. I wanted to tell Mary. I wanted to call her on the phone and tell her about Robert; how he wasn't the same man she thought he was.

Or could it be that she already knew? And she married him anyway? How could she not know? Women always knew these things.

I began to avoid him in public. I couldn't bear his looks or his hands. They burned me; made my flesh crawl. I couldn't stand it.

It was Roger who came to me a few days later with some question about Robert's odd moodiness that I told his secret.

"No!" he blinked at me as I nodded gravely. "But he's always so..."

"And I trusted him for so long." I scowled, disappointed in myself. "I feel like a fool for not seeing it."

"You shouldn't feel so bad." Roger shook his head firmly. "It's not your fault he's like that."

And then the awful possibility hit me; what if it was my fault? What if I, for some reason, in some way, had been too sexually appealing to him? Of course I always did my best to make the audience swoon, but I had I, in some awful way, driven my poor, innocent friend to homosexuality because of this? I felt so guilty.

**

I went to Robert that evening, ready to apologize, and to make things right again. I wanted to help him see how wrong this was.

"Robin?" I knocked on his door, waiting.

"Simon? Is that you?" he called.

"Yes, it's me, please let me in. I need to talk to you."

He brought me inside, taking my hand, and I let him.

"Robert. I'm sorry for doing this to you."

"For doing what?" he seemed confused.

"For turning you into a homosexual."

He stared at me. "You didn't..."

"But then, why are you gay, if it wasn't me?" It was my turn to stare.

He sighed, then ran his hands through his hair. "Simon, I've been this way for a long time. It's not something you 'did to me' at all."

"But..."

"I fell in love with you, Simon, there's nothing more to it."

I felt a bit of relief that it wasn't my fault, but still...

"I won't tempt you any more." I shook my head quickly. "If I wasn't so flamboyant do you suppose you wouldn't be gay anymore?"

He gave me such a look! "Have you not been listening, Simon? I'm gay, and I love you."

"Yes, but we have to fix this problem or it will only get worse..."

"Problem?!" he shouted. I backed away, alarmed at this sudden change in demeanor. "This is not - how can you even think about it that way? I love you, Simon! I am in love with you and nothing is going to change that!"

I scowled at him, sneering almost. "I came here and wanted to help you, and all you do is act like I am the one with the problem! You really are disgusting!"

I stood up to leave when he grabbed me and pulled me to his chest.

"Let go of me!" I fought against him. He kissed me, hot and wet and in my mouth. I could feel his tongue slithering against my own and fought the urge to bite down.

I shoved at his chest, trying to push him away. He held me tightly, stubbornly, angrily.

"Stop it!" I managed to get out when he pulled up for air.

"Let's fix my problem, Simon, let's cure this sickness." he snarled at me.

I tried to punch and kick, but he was too close. I had a vague notion of what he must intend to do, but was too horrified by it to fully expect it. He tore my clothing off of me, piece by piece.

"Robin!" I begged and pleaded between his punishing kisses as he pushed me down onto his bed. I struggled harder but he had evidently been preparing for this. My hands were bound around the bedposts and I could see him reaching for a small piece of -

It was a blindfold. I kicked and screamed but he shoved another something in my mouth, which turned out to be a gag. I refused to cry out when he covered my eyes and tied it tight. I wasn't going to show him the fear that was so readily swelling within me.

It was quiet. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I was so nervous. How long would I wait? How long, before he touched me? Before he did things to me? I suppressed a shudder and didn't move.

It seemed to take hours for him to decide what to do first. I was so tensed up that if I'd been released I would have sprung clear across the room like a Jack-in-the-Box. Quite suddenly I could feel warm, moist air on my throat. I refused to squirm.

His hot, wet tongue slid its way down my neck to my chest, where he began to play with my nipples. I felt humiliated, degraded, dirty. Like a whore. Filthy. I steeled myself against tears and thanked God for the fact that I wasn't aroused. At least - not yet.

I could feel him exploring my chest and upper body slowly. He was either trying to be a cruel tease, or...no. I prayed again that he wasn't really touching me this way out of love. I tried to work the gag out of my mouth, pushing it around with my tongue. Finally, I was able to force it away.

"Robin?" I ordered myself to stay calm. Maybe I could talk him out of this. "Robin. Please. Don't do this..."

"Simon..." his voice was sad and cracking. "Please...don't scream..."

"I promise not to scream." I said, uneasily. "But you have to let me go."

"No."

"We can pretend this never happened...I'll even let you kiss me and cuddle me in public again."

"No, Simon, can't you see it's too late?"

"It's not." I said, trying not to panic.

"It is," he said, and I felt the heat of his naked body cover mine.

I shuddered. "No, please, no..."

"Don't make a sound, or I'll gag you again." he kissed me.

I squirmed and struggled and tried to buck him off of me, but he didn't seem to take any notice of it. Eventually I lay still again. I couldn't get free and I didn't want to choke on that gag again. He stroked my cheek and I turned my face away.

"Oh, Simon...do you know how breathtaking you are, right now?"

I snorted softly and he slapped me across the face. Hard. "Ow!"

"Don't make me hurt you, Simon." his voice was dark again, calm, dominant. I could feel his hands running down over my stomach and my hips. He began stroking my cock gently, and I set my jaw. I couldn not...I would not...I refused to cry as I realized that I was getting aroused. No. No, it wasn't fair...I didn't want this...

"P-please...stop..." I choked out, shaking my head.

"I love you, Simon." As if those words made everything all right, as if they excused him from this act of violation.

I felt his hands under my knees. He was lifting up my legs...

"Wh-what are you doing? Wait! Stop! No!"

Sudden, blinding pain up my back! I screamed in agony and he covered my mouth with his as I sobbed. It hurt so much! And then he started moving. The pain went dull, then sharp again; it fluctuated with each thrust. He was fucking me. Fucking me! The man I held so close, as my dearest friend, was raping me. Sodomizing me. Fucking me in the ass. I wanted to die. And he wouldn't stop!

I screamed until I was hoarse and my throat was raw. But it didn't matter to him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stopped moving. I prayed with what little coherency I had left for him to be finished. There was a pause in which I could only hear our harsh breaths. Then my blindfold was removed. I opened my eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the light again.

"Simon...?" he was crying. Tears were running down his cheeks. I looked away, swallowing. My throat burned like fire and my wrists were still tied to the bedposts.

"Simon, please, say something..." It sounded as if his heart was breaking.

"Untie me." I said quietly, not looking at him. If I looked into his eyes, I would pity him. I would feel sorry for him.

I might even forgive him.

"B-but..."

"Untie me now." I said, firmly.

A muffled sob and my hands were released. I rubbed them, sitting up and staring at my ruined, ripped clothing on the floor.

"Simon...please...can we...can we pretend this never happened?"

"WHAT?!" I roared, rounding on him and pointing an accusitory finger. "You RAPED me! You'll be lucky if I don't call the police! Or the press, for that matter!"

I stomped to his dresser and took a shirt and pants, dressing quickly. "You had better pray that I don't call Mary either." I could hear him sobbing on the bed behind me as I slammed the door shut.

**

I took a hot shower. Even after all the blood was gone, I could still smell him on me. God. I felt as if I was going to be sick.

I had trusted him so blindly. Loved him, even. And he had hurt me, used me, violated me, raped me. I wanted to die.

So I picked up this hotel stationary and a pen, and now that I'm finished, I'm going to have to pretend this never happened. Just like he wants. Because if this is real, I'm going to kill myself.

You have no idea how hard this is.

Really.

You don't.


[END]