Chapter 1
The lyrics of ‘Now Comes the Night’ tell me not to be afraid. But afraid is exactly what I am.
Afraid to close my eyes.
Afraid to have them open.
Afraid of all the years that were taken from me.
Afraid of the hurt that exists in every part of my broken soul.
Afraid to live.
Sitting in my lounge room with a tumbler of Jack in my hand all I can do is stare around the havoc that is my life, everywhere I look I see the mess that surrounds me.
In one corner there are newspapers and bills which are stacked in piles, dishevelled, a lot like my mind.
In another corner, discarded dirty clothes that are waiting for them to be picked up and cared for, exactly like my body.
Behind me lies rubbish strewn carelessly, hoping that one day they’ll be thrown out, exactly like my soul.
It’s been twenty three years since the first night where that beast touched me. Twenty three years of embarrassment and shame have followed and enveloped me. Twenty three years have gone by where only one living being knows what happened, the beast that I didn’t get to kill.
The day I turned sixteen was the day I was going to kill him, it was also the day that my mom intervened and enrolled me into the army. I woke up that morning knowing I was going to take his life, but I went to bed that night in quarters with another twenty nine males.
My mom couldn’t tolerate my behaviour any longer, the fighting, the hatred I had towards everyone, the dark words that I’d spit out at anyone that would listen. No one understood why I was like that, so I was shipped out with my mom packing my bags and taking me to the barracks herself.
That was also the best decision she could’ve made for me. In the seventeen years since I’ve been in the army, I’ve quickly raised through the ranks. I’m a Sargent Major with a thousand men to command, this is the easy part. Being given orders and following them to a tee then commanding my men in the way The United States Army has trained me to.
At work I’m totally in control, I expect absolute excellence and I certainly don’t tolerate ill behaviour. The Army’s taught me patience and control. But no matter what I do, the moment I’m home and the uniform comes off, I can’t find that balance and I can’t bring that control over to my personal life.
I’m sure on the outside I look like a man that has it all, a man other men envy, a man others want to be, a man women want and a man most would want in their existence.
But, I don’t wish my life on anyone.
My phone starts ringing, and all my now sluggish brain can do is look around from the chair I’ve sunk into and wonder where in this hell hole my phone is.
Throwing back the contents of the tumbler, I feel the burn slide down my throat, and its enticing temporary numbing ways makes me forget, even for a split second what exactly I’m looking for.
But it rings again, and this time I know that I need to answer it. It may be Joanna calling me about Lucy. Maybe Lucy’s hurt, maybe I need to get to her quickly. My mind instantly clears and I jump out of the seat, because if I need to get to my daughter, then I don’t want to be in this mindset. The phone stops ringing while I look for it, but starts again with the same standard ring tone. I finally find it, buried in the bottom of my work bag.
Looking at the screen it’s coming up a private number. Thank god, it’s not Joanna.
“Hello.” My voice is all rough from the burn of the liquid that allows me a sliver of sanity.
“Ryan, you sound like shit.”
“Mason, fuck man. The hell happened to you?” Mason Carter’s my best friend since I can remember. Actually he’s my only friend since I can remember.
“I got a couple of weeks off from shooting and I’m back. You got Lucy this weekend?”
“Nah, Joanna has her. What have you got in mind?”
“I’m thinking of coming up for a few days, to spend some time with my best mate. What do you think Ry, can you fit me into your busy schedule?” he says with a chuckle in his voice.
And my stomach does that little twist it always did when I’d hear Mason laugh. I’m not gay, I don’t do guys, but Mason being around always did something to me. I noticed it after he told me he no longer wanted me. I mean that’s pretty fucked up right?
“Sounds great, you got somewhere to stay?” I can feel my own blood starting to pump harder through my body.
“I was hoping on staying with you. Look, I’ve been invited to an awards event Saturday night. Wanna come as my plus one?” He lets out another chuckle.
“What the fuck, Mase. Really? Take a woman will you.”
“She’s the one that told me to meet her there.” I feel a slight twinge of disappointment, he has a woman? I mean I should be delighted for him, shouldn’t I?
“Oh, who is she?” I ask feigning happiness for him.
“I’ll tell you about it when I see you, bro. Gotta go, so I’ll see you on Friday. What time are you due home from work?”
“I’ll be home by 1700. I can leave a key with Kaitlyn next door though if you’re coming earlier.”
“Nah 5pm works for me, see you then.” He hangs up and I go over and sink back into my seat. I let the worn fabric of the chair scratch up against the backs of my legs as I replay the conversation I just had with my best friend.
I hear his chuckle again and my cock twitches in my shorts. Closing my eyes I try and not imagine how he looks.
The second last time I saw him he was detoxing and looked like shit, his straggly oily hair hung over his face, and his body was too skinny. He look almost emaciated, his skin was too big for his body with his bones protruding through.
Two years ago Mason was so heavily into drugs that I thought he’d die. I was waiting for the phone call from his parents telling me when and where the funeral was. He was a changed man for those few years that he kept his habit up, he was unpredictable and totally untrustworthy, but I never gave up on him.
Whenever he needed a place to stay, I always had my front door open for him unless Lucy was staying with me. No matter what he did, I always had his back. He stole from me, he used me and he even tried to pick fist fights with me, but I was unwavering. I knew it was the drugs and I tried to help him as much as I could. I mean, who was I to judge him?
Then one night when I was watching TMZ, they announced that Mason had gone into rehab.
That was the last I saw of him, until 12 months ago, when he ended up on my door step. He was looking healthy and also extremely ashamed. That night he explained how he was at his breaking point and a woman saved him, but that’s all he told me and I never pushed him to reveal more than he wanted.
We all have secrets we don’t ever want to share. We all have skeletons lurking in our closets, just the size of the bones change from person to person.
Breathing deeply through my nose as those memories play around in my head, I notice I’ve willed my cock into submission and the thought of being attracted to Mason totally disgusts me again, I’m not gay.
I open my eyes and look around the room and think, I best get this place looking like my life is in order and not just the broken empty shards that lay like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle it actually is.
Copyright 2014 by Margaret McHeyzer
Yes, Master.
Chapter 1 is subject to change.
Margaret is giving away (2) $10 Amazon gift cards.
Chelsea lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and avoiding housework at all costs. She’s ridiculously bad at doing dishes and claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee, sleeping-in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete lack of skill in the kitchen.
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