Kaged In

I was living in a real-life nightmare. I knew exactly how I had gotten to this point. My life had been taken from me at a young age, twisted and turned inside out and I was swept along, like a pebble tumbling around in the waves of a stormy ocean.

There was no coming up for air, no relief, no release and the currents kept pulling at me. I had no direction; no purpose and I had long ago learned that crying didn’t help. Even as the years passed, I didn’t know how to let go.

I’d have the same nightmare almost every night and I’d wake up, out of breath and sweating, my heart racing as my eyes focused in the darkness. I’d lay back in my bed, knowing that it wasn’t real anymore. I was safe, all grown up and in charge of my own life.

Being haunted by your past wasn’t unique to only me. Everyone had their own problems, a past or a nightmare, but I was drowning, struggling to cope with my memories. I wished I could forget but by the time I was an adult, it was already too late.

The nightmares became more frequent, and my biggest problem was that I couldn’t even say it out loud to myself. I was a man, a professional and I had a certain public image that I hated. Alexander had urged me to talk to someone, but how do I tell this man what had happened to me? I couldn’t even tell Alexander.

I had never thought about hurting myself, it seemed stupid to me, but I knew it was something people struggled with. Me? I poured everything into skating. That’s where I took all my frustrations, all my rage and I pounded it out on the puck.

That became my escape. The ice was a sanctuary, skating became my freedom and at last it seemed that I had found a place where I could be accepted. I was fast, despite my size, and I was good. I had to be. We played against kids much older than us and when we won, we had to run. We got beat up a lot too and I learned to stand my ground and fight back.

I hadn’t always been a bad kid, but I turned into one. I was pushed to the edge, and I took the easy way out. I smoked and drank, I stole, and I fought, a lot. I was fourteen when the worst of it started and by the time I was sixteen, my heart was ice cold, and I hated the world.

I closed my eyes, and my dream came back in full color, sound and that same disgust I was used to.

I woke up as I felt a weight straddling me. I could smell the liquor on her breath, and it repulsed me. “What are you doing, Lorraine?” I tried to move my arms only to realize that she’d tied my hands to the bedposts.

“You’re a good-looking kid, Kage,” she slurred slightly.

“Get off me,” I said as I pulled on the ropes again.

“Trust me,” she said and chuckled. “You’re going to like what happens next.”

“Stop!” I yelled as she pulled my pajama pants down. The ropes didn’t budge, and I could feel it biting into the skin of my wrists.

Lorraine shifted lower and I clenched my eyes shut as I felt her mouth against me, taking me in and licking over the head of my penis. The reaction felt almost normal, and I could feel myself stiffen as her tongue moved up and down my length.

I’d gotten erections before, when puberty started, but I was used to morning wood, and I’d never done anything sexual before.

Her hand worked in sync with her mouth and my breath quickened. She slid a condom over my penis, and she straddled me again, her hands pressing down on my chest and she started to move. She gyrated her hips, riding me and I hated the fact that it felt good.

I had never ejaculated before so when I felt that release spurt out of me, I was surprised, and the fury in her eyes as I began to soften told me that I was in trouble. My penis slipped out of her as she tried to keep me inside and she gripped my shoulders in frustration.

“You little asshole!” she yelled. I could taste blood in my mouth as her hand struck my cheek and lip.

“I’m sorry,” I said out of habit as she pulled her dress down.

“You will be,” she said and hit me again.

I woke up in a small room, my pajama pants covering me again. It was cold and the thin t-shirt didn’t do anything to keep me warm. I knew my face was swollen, it hurt, and I tasted the dried blood when I licked my lips.

“Lorraine!” I yelled as I tried the door and found it locked. The chain around my ankle was long enough just to reach the door. I slumped down against it and lowered my head to my knees.

Two days went by before she unlocked the door and shoved a bottle of water in my hands. She looked at me in disdain before closing and locking the door again. She hadn’t even said a word to me, and I wondered if this was where I would die.

I didn’t want to die. I wanted to escape what my life had become. I was never good enough for anyone, not even my mother. I’d been told I was useless and worthless so many times over the years that I had begun to believe it.

After another four days Lorraine finally unlocked the chain around my ankle and helped me to stand. Between the cold, hunger and dehydration I was a pathetic version of the overly large boy living in her house. She led me back into the warm house and into the shower. The hot water felt like heaven, and I stood there shivering as she washed me.

“I’m sure your time spent alone in reflection will ensure that you behave from now on?” she asked and shut the water off. Her white shirt had become see-through from the water and her nipples were visible, it was easy to guess that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Yes, Lorraine.” The defeat in my voice had her smiling.

“Maybe you’ll try harder tonight.” She smiled as she handed me clean clothes and watched me as I got dressed.

Lorraine fed me and told me to get some sleep since I’d need to be rested for that night. It felt good to pull the covers over me and be able to sleep in a bed again. I gripped the covers over my head and the first tear slid out when she closed my bedroom door. How was this my life?

That night Lorraine was better prepared because I couldn’t get an erection at first, but she knew exactly what she was doing and over the months that followed I started hating myself for getting erect whenever she touched me or went down on me. It wasn’t long before she taught me to do the same to her and I viewed our time together as pure hell.

I realized that first night that she had raped me, and she had continued to do so for the next year, until she was arrested on a DUI and I was sent to another foster home. Sex for me was something dirty, something to feel ashamed about and I was sure that even my soul was tainted.

Life wasn’t done with me yet, as I soon learned. My soul had already been broken and I had turned into a wild, lawless teenager. I didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone and I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d smiled.