Eclipse Of The Moon ~ Book 1 of Aaron
Chapter 16
The Birth Of The Rebel

Monday 14 October 2002

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cox," I hear Mark say downstairs when my mother goes to open the entrance door.

"Good afternoon, Mark," she replies in a weary tone. "I guess you wanted to see Aaron? He's been unwell since Saturday evening. Some sort of stomach flu, I believe..." she explains hesitantly.

There is no stomach flu whatsoever, but I have been pretending to be sick for the past two days so as to be left alone and as a good excuse to stay in my room.

It hasn't been difficult, to be honest. In fact, faking symptoms has never been so easy. Once in a while, I rush to the restroom, lock myself in and mock horrible retching sounds while pouring water in the toilets from high enough. Each time my mother checks on me and presses on my stomach, I wince and heave as if I was going to throw up again. Fever is the only thing I can't simulate obviously, but I look so bad that it doesn't really matter, and I don't need to put on much of a show here.

I don't think I have ever felt so bad before, so it's not hard to act. The soreness in my rectum is slowly receding thanks to the medication Liz gave me, but it's still painful. I avoid as much as possible to lie on my back and go for my sides or stomach instead. However, the physical pain is not the worst. The emotional turmoil I am facing hurts me far more than the sting of a fistula. As a matter of fact, this is what makes me feel nauseous and look so sick, but my mother can't know this, and she buys it as a consequence of a stomach flu.

"Could I see him for a minute?" Mark asks, loud enough for me to hear I suppose, but my door is open in any case. No matter how often I shut it, my mother keeps reopening it each time she goes upstairs, and she was here just a few minutes ago.

"I'm afraid he's sleeping for now," she replies.

Well, I was faking sleep indeed when she showed up, so her answer is quite honest.

"Oh okay..." Mark replies with heavy disappointment. "I'll try to stop by tomorrow then and bring him more copies of the lessons he's missing. Please tell him I said hello, Mrs. Cox, and I hope he'll recover quickly."

"I will, Mark. And thank you for bringing these."

Once I have heard the door shut again, I flip to my other side and roll myself into my comforter, facing away from the door and closing my eyes. Unsurprisingly, I hear my mother walk into my bedroom to drop some things on my desk, feel her lay fresh fingers on my forehead, and then she's out again.

Damn! I wish I could have spoken with Mark!

I would have liked an update on my friends, to know how they have been doing. I bet Mark and Josh must be pulling through well enough, but I'm worrying about Cam. He looked so tense; the guilt and anger in his eyes were so deep. Our friend has become a strong teenager after the terrible childhood he endured with a violent father and an alcoholic mother, but he also has a fragile and unstable side to his personality that might yield problems.

Then, I'm wondering how things are going with Tony because he said he was going to try and discreetly investigate on my aggressors. Has he found the guy who escaped? The bastard who raped me... Though, let's face it, I'm not sure Mr. Jacobson would leak much information after what he told us on Saturday.

I also wanted to reassure Mark. Knowing the guys, they must be freaking out since I didn't show up in school today. I would have told him that I'm fine and that I'm just taking a few days off to rest.

Sure, Ron... It's not like Mark isn't perceptive and wouldn't have read through you...

True. Mark and his sharp eyesight. Mark who rarely fails to notice when something is wrong with one of us. Perhaps it's better this way, then. I don't want my friends to worry about me more than they already do, and the truth is that I'm feeling really bad. The epiphany that hit me on Saturday evening has thrown me into a spiral of overwhelming emotions that I want to sort out on my own, without anyone interfering in my judgement.

I've been somewhat struggling with the two options I came up with on Saturday evening. I guess that a tiny part of me still believes in God but hates Him so much for having put me and my friends through such hell at the shack. It's the worst betrayal of all. I may have never been a very good Catholic, I may have lied, I may have been a hypocrite, and I may have had sex with other males, it didn't give Him the right to have me raped.

The largest part of me believes that it's bullshit, though, that God doesn't exist; that Catholicism is nothing but a cult with the Pope as their guru. That side wants me to break free from religion just as much as the other. I'm not going to let something whose existence can't be proved rule my life. I'm not going to let Satan rule my life.

I barely slept that Saturday night, twisting and turning in my bed, my thoughts constantly swirling in my head. However, by Sunday morning, I had made a decision. God and I were over. Whether he does exist and is evil enough to make his children endure such horrible events or he doesn't exist, I didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. On Saturday October 12th, 2002, I definitely lost the last bit of faith I had, and nothing will ever make me change my mind.

The huge question mark now is how am I going to deal with my family's zealousness for another year?

This is actually the main reason why I have been pretending to be sick for the last two days. I need time to figure out what I'm going to tell my parents and how I should play it out. I can't leave this house until my 18th birthday and meanwhile, I will have to bear with my religious family.

I wish I could simply tell them to fuck off and leave me alone with their faith, but that would lead me into much trouble, including a tough taste of my father's belt. However, I can't imagine playing the hypocrite like I used to anymore. All the prayers, mass at church, confessions, charity events, youth groups... How in the hell am I going to bear with this? What if the new Aaron isn't able to pretend any longer? The reality is that the new Aaron wants to tell them he loves men and sex and doesn't give a fuck about their opinion.

I can't pretend being sick forever, but the longer I make it last, the longer they will leave me alone. My mother feeds me on her disgusting soup twice a day, but at least, it allows me to avoid family prayers and dinners. I just need to figure out solutions for the future, and the sooner, the better.

On Tuesday morning, my mother calls in our family doctor and determined as I am, it's no big deal fooling him either. I lie again, saying that I keep vomiting and have diarrhea. When he palms my stomach and belly, I wince and whimper as if they were painful. He does find it weird that my intestines don't gurgle when he applies his stethoscope on my tummy, but I act so good that he confirms the stomach flu diagnostic, and I earn the rest of the week off school and in my bedroom.

Expecting Mark's visit in the evening, I spend the best part of the afternoon – while I have the house to myself since my mother and Ananie go to their church activities – writing a long letter for my friends in which I detail the real motives of my absence from school and provide them with the reassurance they probably need on my physical condition.

Sadly, he doesn't show up until Wednesday late afternoon and when I hear my mother ushering him in, I simply add a quick introduction at the top of the letter that says: read this while I use the restroom and please play along. Just as he pops into my bedroom, wearing the wary expression I was expecting, I hand him the sheet of paper with a wink and rush to the toilets across the corridor. The note isn't that long, but I still give him five minutes to read before I return to him.

"Sorry, Mark..." I apologize, using my best sick voice in case my mother is eavesdropping from downstairs and we both settle on my bed. "Be careful not to catch my germs..."

"Don't worry, you know I never get sick. Darn, you do look bad, though..." he replies aloud as he hands me a notepad on which he wrote a few words.

The fuck! You scared us! We thought you were really sick!! How are you truly doing?

"Yeah, I know... This stomach flu is killing me... It's so painful..." I comment with a hoarse voice while I scribble my answer. "How's it going at school?"

Pain's getting better, you guys don't worry. Quite okay in my head, but can't expand. She might be listening. Gimme news instead. An update from Tony?

And while Mark tells me about things I'm missing at school, we continue our side-conversation on paper.

Nothing from Tony. He refused to say anything about what he did with the guy. Just said he cleaned up and removed all evidence around the shack, so even if the other guy or the police ever show up, we can deny anything happened...

Good...

Also... We destroyed the shack and got rid of everything we had there...

What!!!!!?

Sorry, Bro... Should have asked for your thoughts first... But we thought you'd never want to go there again...

The guys are right. I haven't given much thought to what happened there since I have been so focused on my inner struggle with my faith, but now that my friend is mentioning it, there's no way I would provoke bad memories by returning to the crime scene, so in the end, I feel sincerely grateful for their thoughtfulness. All the same, I can't help a sad grimace. This shack was our haven. Our happy safe place.

"Sorry, Ron..." Mark whispers with a squeeze of my hand before he resumes our official conversation while I write down my answer. "If you feel better this weekend, you could come over and I'll help you to revise for the calculus test we have next week."

It was the best thing to do, I don't want to go back there either... Sorry I couldn't help.

Bullshit. We managed. When are you coming back?

Next week. Now tell me about you and the guys!

We're okay. Just worrying about you.

Don't. I'm good. Cam? And don't lie!

Mark tries to stifle a sigh that has nothing to do among the explanation he is giving me about the math lesson, but I do see concern in his expression.

Cam's not okay... Guilt... He's trying to hide it, but he's getting nuts... Fought twice at school... Got detention today... It's hard to calm him down...

Shit.

Only you can rule him in...

Mark, you gotta tell him I'm alright... Today. Before he goes overboard. I'll find a way to speak with him this weekend.

'Kay...

Danny?

Josh told him you're sick.

Good. Don't tell him what happened.

Of course not. You sure you're okay?

Instead of replying on the paper, I lean over and hug him tightly, conveying my most positive strength and thoughts. However, our official conversation has become irregular, so Mark eventually leaves, wishing me a quick recovery, and I return to my idleness. Mark's visit did me a lot of good but also raised new brooding material and later that evening, my thoughts naturally stray to my assaulters.

Who were these guys?

Let me check the picture... Yes, that's him.

They were clearly after me, and although I obviously don't know all of Collingswood's inhabitants, I'm pretty sure they were hired to do the job in another town.

Who the fuck sent them?

Who hates me so much that they'd command a rape?

Of course, the first person who comes to my mind is Isaac. This jerk has been a pain in my butt since the summer camp in Virginia, checking my every move for no other obvious reasons that he must have guessed I was gay and he's homophobic. For crying out loud, he grassed out on me to Coach Evans on futile assumptions! Though, it didn't work as nicely as he had hoped to in the end and it was quite the biter bit. Damn... Was the assault some sort of revenge? Could he be that vile?

It sounds a bit far-fetched, but who else then?

Coach Evans? Undeniably, he didn't approve of Joshua's intruding move during the locker room incident and he has been making it clear over the past three weeks. He makes me work twice as much as my classmates do during warm-up, saying I run slower. He keeps yelling at me and I'm always the lucky volunteer who has to put all the equipment away after each class. Cam says it's harassment and that I should report him, but in order to avoid an escalation in his anger, I have plainly ignored our coach's persecution and complied with all his orders without complaining.

Hmm... Could my lack of reaction have pushed him to take a step further in his revenge? Once again, it sounds hard to swallow, but we all know how mankind can yield to its worst wickedness.

My last suspect is none other than my own father. Dad... Dad, who's an open homophobe because of his religious beliefs. Dad, who says that male on male sex is disgusting. Dad, who's ready to lose his self-control and to sin when it comes to his son's attraction to same sex.

If only you could... realize how nasty it must be... Ugh... Disgusting...

As his words flashback to my mind, I wonder what he meant exactly. Did he mean that if I were to be fucked, I would realize how painful and horrible it is?

No, no, no, no... he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't have organized my rape to teach me lesson. That would go against all his principles. That would make me a sinner in his eyes. There must be another explanation for his recent nervousness... his distance... True that he has barely spoken to me even since I confessed my attraction to men, but it's because he has been busy with work... and spent a lot of time at church. There must be a reason why he visited me so often this week, every morning and every evening, laying a gentle hand over my head while I was pretending to sleep. I can't take it as a sign of discomfort or guilt on his side.

How can I even think about it!? Parents don't do such horrible things to their children, do they?

No.

This is a firm no.

My father isn't that evil. He can prove violent at times, but he isn't vicious.

My reflection doesn't lead me anywhere and after several hours brooding, all I come up with is that whoever set this up must be sick in their head.

* * *

When Saturday comes, I have grown so bored and sick of my bedroom walls that I eventually get up. Anyway, a stomach flu is supposed to heal within a few days and if I keep acting, my parents will understand that I faked it all. I am also tired of eating carrot soup and bananas, and I'm craving for anything else for a change. I'm missing my best friends too, but I can't ask to go out if I don't show that I'm feeling better.

I'm just sad that we no longer have our safe haven and I wonder where we are going to hang out now. There are parks in Collingswood, as well as abandoned buildings and warehouses, but it won't be the same.

Whatever, I just need to get out of here and see the guys. My parents just need to see that I'm feeling better.

And I truly am.

The pain in my ass has completely receded and there's no more discomfort each time I use the restroom. Emotionally speaking, it's a different story. The painful turmoil in my head has definitely calmed down, but only to give way to even more overwhelming emotions, and unfortunately, these might lead to further troubles.

Something is happening within me. Something is bubbling at the core of my body, from my head to my toes, coursing through my veins and slowly bursting within my chest. It's like... searing lava circulating throughout my entire being and it makes me feel like a volcano about to erupt. It's painful. My corporal husk is striving to contain this blooming effervescence, and yet, I know it's going to crack sooner or later. It makes it almost intoxicating. I can feel that something is about to happen. Something that might change my whole life.

The first signs of this inner revolution occur on Saturday evening.

I spent the afternoon in the living room catching up on my homework, trying to prove my parents I could be serious, but when time comes for the rosary ritual, I feel the bubbles of lava reach the surface of my skin. Each of the words I have to say during the prayers are like tiny needles that grate my throat, making me feel nauseous again, but I still manage to contain the outbreak. The prayer before dinner goes in a similar fashion, allowing me to barely mumble.

Something is trying to burst within me. It's exhausting.

That night, these strange forces populate my dreams with images of freedom and happiness, showing me what my life could be if I decided to lead it the way I want. My life would be full of fun and prohibitions. Sex. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Tattoos. Drugs. I wouldn't let anyone decide what I should or shouldn't do. I would even defy orders and recommendations. I would lead a wild life.

No wonder that the following morning I wake up with my heart racing in my chest and a whole new insight on my perspectives. A change has undoubtedly operated over the night and a new me is born. To be honest, it's a weird sensation, but the determination and self-confidence feel blissful.

Gone is the puppet!

Born is the rebel!

It's barely 7AM and the house is still quiet when I sneak downstairs, my stomach rumbling loudly. I'm hungry! Without caring the slightest bit about my family, I make myself toasts that I generously cover with butter and marmalade and greedily eat before I down a glass of orange juice and a yogurt.

I am cleaning my dishes when my mother shows up in the kitchen, dressed in her warm dressing gown. Her sleepy expression immediately fades away when she realizes what I did.

"Good morning..." she whispers hesitantly.

"Morning, Mom!" I cheer as I discard the dishtowel on the counter.

"Did you prepare breakfast for the whole family... or did you just have yours on your own?" she then asks, allowing me the benefice of the doubt.

"Just had mine!" I shrug, ignoring her scowl.

"I hope you at least made your prayer before..."

"Nope!" I reply with blatant nonchalance as I pass her by and head out of the kitchen.

"Aaron!!" she whisper-shouts, but I ignore her. "Aaron!!"

I hurry back upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom. She won't follow me there because she wouldn't risk waking up the whole household, so I strip off my pajamas and step into the shower.

Fuck! It feels so good!

It's not much, but defying my mother is so exhilarating! I don't even feel guilty!

My father might be a different story, but honestly, I just don't care. If he so much as raise a hand on me, I will threaten to go to the police or social services and to press charges. Something I should have done a long time ago. My case isn't as bad as Camden's was, but I'm pretty sure it's serious enough.

Oh well! I will soon find out because I well intend to skip mass today – and in the future as a matter of fact. I assume that the confrontation with my parents won't yield anything positive, so I can't expect to spend the day here, which is just fine because I have plenty of things to do.

I need to see Camden first. I haven't heard back from Mark since last Wednesday – though he did visit on Friday, but I was truly asleep and missed him – and I'm worrying about Cam. If anything bad had happened, Mark would have left a note among the documents he dropped off two days ago, and yet, I can't help this anxiousness. I need to see for myself. I need to make sure he's alright. Then, if I'm not mistaken, Joshua's parents are still on vacation, so we could all meet there. There's so much we need to catch up on!

I'd like to see Danny too...

I can't tell him what happened a week ago, but I certainly owe him apologies for not calling at all over the past week and cancelling our plans last Saturday. I can't begin to express how I hate the two bastards who ruined not only our birthday celebration but also what should have been a steamy-hot Sunday.

While I lather my body with soap, my hands naturally reach for my privates and as I clean this area, I realize that I haven't masturbated in a whole week. Nothing illogical for someone who was raped seven days ago, but it's not even what quietened my libido the most. My brain was just too busy brooding over my inner struggles and worrying for my friends to really think about what I endured that afternoon. Not that I'll let it start now that I have decided to assert myself!

No way!

Thinking about that afternoon I missed with my best friends and Danny, my lust comes back full force, making me hard as rock.

I don't give a flying fuck about the guy above and his opinions on homosexuality and sex before marriage.

I don't care about my parents' zealous beliefs.

I am gay, and if they believe they can make me change, they are clearly mistaken.

Fuck them all!

Aaron 2.0 is born.

Published on 8 August 2019

This was a necessary filler without much happening, but there had to be a little brooding phase to show the change operating in Aaron after what happened. For those who have really nailed the character, you already know that he was more affected by his friends' reactions (and especially Camden's). The goal is obviously not to minimize what happened to him, rape is serious, and victims react in different ways. However, you know the "future" Aaron and how much he loves his friends, so I'll just let you discover his character development throughout the remaining chapters of this book and his second book.

That being said, be ready to meet Aaron 2.0 in the next chapter ;)