Chapter Eleven:

I walked into my house, sighing as I did so. Michael's stubbornness was something I would probably never understand. Why was it so hard for him to open up and admit he needed a friend?

I dropped my backpack next to the door and immediately started for the kitchen. I was starved and I needed to have enough energy tonight if we were going to win Regionals.

However, I stopped when I heard talking from in the kitchen. I recognized them as my brother and mother's voice. I silently questioned why my brother was at home and not at work like he usually was at this time.

"It's been so long since he even hinted towards it. Do you think I should have a counselor talk to him about it?" My mother asked.

"Mum, if he's not talking about it, obviously he's starting to get over it," My brother responded.

"But what if he's just too afraid to talk about it. That whole experience... it traumatized him, George. Remember? He didn't talk for an entire month after it," My mother said.

"Look, I just think it's best we don't bring up the rape. Remember the last time we did? He flipped out. He made us promise never to talk about it again," George replied.

I felt my throat close up and my eyes become blurry. I began to shake and I felt liquid leaking from my eyes. My breathing sped up. My heart rate sped up. My mind was running a million miles per hour.

I suddenly felt a scream bubble in my throat and I released it, startling my mum and brother. They both immediately jumped up and huddled around me, but I shoved them away, trying to form words.

"You promised! You said you'd never talk about it! How could you!" I screamed at them, my words barely recognizable.

"Gavvy, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were home. Come here, sweetheart. I'm so sorry, my poor little boy," My mum said, her voice shaky.

Good little boy, Gavvy. You're such a good little boy.

I screamed again and felt more tears spring from my eyes. I clutched my temples, screaming out words like 'Make it stop!' and 'Leave me alone!'

Eventually, I couldn't take it and I dashed up to my room, my mother and brother following in pursuit. I slammed the door and locked it, leaning against the door as I sobbed out.

...

"Bye, love. I'll make sure Gavvy eats. Have fun," My father said to my mother as she left with my brother on an overnight trip to London.

I was sitting in the living room, watching one of my favorite cartoons and enjoying myself when the TV suddenly blinked off. I looked up at my father who stood over me, remote in hand.

"Are you hungry yet, Gavvy?" My father asked, his voice strange.

"N-no, not yet," I said in my squeaky nine year old voice.

"Hmm, well I think you should have a snack. I think I heard your tummy growl," My father said in the same strange voice.

"Really? I-I didn't hear it," I said, looking down and lifting up my shirt to inspect my stomach.

Suddenly, I felt my father's large hands pin me again the sofa. I gasped in surprise until I felt the familiar feeling of him unbuttoning my pants.

I instantly began struggling against him. He wouldn't do this to me. Not again.

"N-No daddy! No!" I yelled trying to grab his hands and pry them away. Unfortunately, his adult strength was no match for my childlike strength.

Eventually, I became aware of my legs. My legs! Why hadn't I thought of this before?

I reached up with my legs and kicked my father in the stomach as hard as I could.

This proved to be my mistake.

My father groaned and clutched his stomach. I crawled away quickly, huddling up at the far end of the sofa. What was he going to do? I had never fought back like this before when he tried doing things to me.

And like that, he lifted his head to look at me. Anger was ablaze in his eyes and I instantly realized I was in a lot of trouble.

"D-daddy... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I-I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. Please forgive me. Daddy?" I said, stuttering out all these words as quickly as possible.

My father towered over me like a skyscraper. His eyes were alight with the fury he felt for me. His hands were clasped into permanent fists and his jaw was set.

"You've been a very, very bad boy, Gavvy. And you need to be punished now," My father growled.

I gasped when my father grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me up the stairs. Tears began leaking from my eyes and I wondered what my punishment would be this time. Maybe another ten whips from his belt? Or perhaps another beating. Oh god, please let it be a beating.

Little did I know it was going to be far worse.

My father threw me on his bed and immediately duct taped my hands together. I stopped crying for a moment to try and figure out what was going on. I again felt him begin to unbutton my pants, and unfortunately this time, my legs were no where near his stomach.

He slid my pants off my skinny legs and I again felt hot tears leaking from my eyes. I hated this so much.

Suddenly, my father flipped me over, much to my confusion. I tried to sit up but he just shoved me back down.

I heard the jangling of his belt and I prayed he would go easy on the whipping this time. I braced myself for the stinging pain that I was bound to feel. I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut, awaiting the whips.

But to my surprise they never came. In fact, nothing was happening. I opened my eyes and searched around the room, wondering what could possibly be happening.

I suddenly felt hands grasp the elastic of my underwear and immediately pull it down. Again, confusion swarmed in my mind like a beehive until I felt something hard push it's way into my bumhole.

I screamed out and continued to cry as my father held me down. He eventually clasped his hand over my mouth to shut me up which only helped to quiet me some.

I felt so helpless. So violated. So... dirty.

Someone please help me.

...

I relived the moment it happened in my head. I was silent and when I finally came back to reality I realized I had been staring blankly at my window. My mother and brother pounded on my door, begging me to let them in.

I didn't.

I sat there, feeling numb. I hadn't thought about the rape in a while. The longest I had ever gone in fact. But now that was ruined. My lucky streak was over.

I remembered the months after the incident. I had said little, ate little, did little. My father was arrested but he wasn't locked away. My mother had promised me that he would never come near me again, but she never realized that in my mind, he was always there, haunting me.

After the divorce was final, my mother proposed the idea of moving to America. She said that we needed a fresh start in a place that didn't bring back so many horrible memories.

I was grateful for that.

It took me so long to be comfortable around people again. Whenever I was around them, I'd flinch or close my eyes, trying my best to get away from the monsters that lurked inside everyone.

My mother had forced me to go to counseling when we moved to America. It took me four sessions to finally say something and even that wasn't enough to even help her begin to understand my issue.

I was a lost cause for a long time. My mother and brother began to lose hope that I'd ever be the same. I began to lose hope that I'd ever be the same.

However, eventually I did open up and my counselor worked hard to help me. By the time I was twelve, I had made the ultimate decision to be different. To be the person I longed to be more than anything. I pushed all the depressing thoughts away and focused on being a joyful and happy person.

And it worked.

I made myself believe I was happy and not struggling everyday with the knowledge that my own father had violated me.

"Gavvy... please. I need to know you're okay," My mother said. I heard her sob out softly.

I flinched at her quiet sob and sighed, standing up and unlocking my door. My mother opened it and immediately flung herself into my arms, hugging me as tightly as possible. She grabbed locks of my hair and gripped them, sobbing into my shoulder. She muttered out words like 'I'm sorry' and 'He was a monster'. I tried to block it all out. I was too out of it to focus on much of anything.

"Are you alright, love? Do you need anything? I can run to the store if we don't have what you want," My mum said as she quieted down.

Great. Now comes the weeks of constant babying.

"I'm fine, mum. I just... I need to rest for a while," I said, my voice scratchy and choked from screaming and crying.

"Alright. Do you still want to go to the game or no? I can call coach and-," My mum was saying before I cut her off.

"No. I have to go to the game. I don't have a choice," I told her.

My mum frowned and sighed. She nodded and cupped my cheek gently, getting up on her tiptoes and kissing my forehead. She then cupped both my cheeks and held my head directly in front of hers.

"You're my brave little boy, Gavvy. Don't ever forget that," She whispered. I nodded and watched her leave my room, shutting the door gently behind her.

I flung myself on my bed and buried my face in my pillow. I dreaded going to the game now. Thoughts and images of my father violating me crowded my mind and I didn't want to have an outburst during the game.

But, at this point, I didn't have a choice.

...

"And now, introducing Austin High School's youngest point guard in our school's history; Gavin Free!" The announcer called out.

I jogged out like I always did, lifting my hands for Holden to toss me the ball. I dribbled down the court, listening to everyone cheer my name. The bleachers were packed with some people sitting in lawn chairs around them and on the floor. Everyone expected us to win tonight.

But, I wasn't so sure that was going to happen. I was still incredibly out of it. During practice, I missed far too many shots. Coach had even pulled me aside and asked if I was feeling alright. I lied and told him I was just nervous.
I made a layup when I reached the basket, missing it. I felt embarrassment coarse through me but I trudged on, jogging to my seat in the middle of all the boys and sitting down.

Coach came up and kneeled down in front of me. The other boys fanned out around us, taking the same kneel as him. I did the same.

"Alright, boys, we've been undefeated up until this point. Tonight is going to decide whether we go to the semi-finals or not. I know we can do it. We've done great so far this season. I believe in all of you," Coach said. We all put our hands in the middle and did our little school cheer before standing up and waiting for coach to give us the game plan.

As he was telling us what was going to happen in the game, my eyes caught a flash of red hair. I immediately became distracted and stopped listening to coach, looking out into the crowd of people. I struggled to find the splash of color again but it had disappeared from sight.

Suddenly I saw it again, in the crack where one bleacher ended, and another began. He stood in the shadows, staring directly at me.

He saw me and I saw him.

I gulped and turned back to coach, listening to the end of his game plan. As it turned out, I hadn't completely lied to coach considering nervousness coursed through me like water flowing from a spigot.

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the players needed to get on the court. I jogged out there with my fellow teammates and we took up our positions.

The cheerleaders did a quick cheer before the game officially began. I heard Meg call out my name at the end and I rolled my eyes, hoping nobody thought she was my girlfriend.

All throughout the game though, Michael stared at me with his persistent brown eyes.

...

The game wasn't going exactly how Coach planned. We were down by about ten points by the third quarter. I was exhausted and heaving for breath as I ran up and down the court. Coach hadn't given me a single break.

My muscles were screaming at me to stop. My lungs were begging me to take a breather. My hands were asking me to stop catching the ball so roughly.

Michael continued to watch the game. No emotion leaked from him. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

However sometimes I saw him give me a quick hand signal. I tried to interpret what it meant and eventually I'd understand and do as he commanded. They always ended with me making a basket.

Throughout the game, I began to realize more and more that I was turning into Michael. If my team made it to Finals and won, I'd be exactly like Michael.

And I didn't want to do that to him.

So, when we had about a minute left in the third quarter, I saw a perfect opportunity to get out of the game.

When the ball was in the opposite court, I shoved my way to the front to try and catch the ball. This, of course, caused my opponents to shove back, harder. When that happened, I pretended they hurt me and I prepared myself to fall to the ground.

However, as I was toppling over, someone stepped wrong and I had to twist my ankle painfully to keep from falling on my teammates. As red hot pain coursed through my ankle, I realized the mistake I made.

I cried out in pain and got the referees attention. They blew the whistle, calling for a time out. Everyone went silent.

The players made a circle around me and let the coaches and referees through. I clutched my ankle and I struggled to keep tears from entering my eyes. I wouldn't cry in front of all these guys. I couldn't.

Coach kneeled down in front of me and gently pried my hands from my ankle. He squeezed as delicately as possible around my ankle, causing instant pain to shoot through my leg. I grunted in an attempt to keep myself from crying out. Coach looked up at me and stared at my face, noting every twist of pain on my face.

"It's broken, isn't it?" He asked me, as if it was an actual question.

I gritted my teeth to keep from passing out. The pain was nearly unbearable.

Coach flagged in the school nurse and she instantly ran in, crouching in front of me. She asked for someone to run downstairs and fetch a wheelchair, instantly making me flush in humiliation.

However, as I was being helped in the wheelchair, I watched as all the players from both teams knelt down on their knee and bowed their head in a sign of respect. I averted my eyes from them, focusing rather on the shooting pain coursing through my ankle.

I only stayed in the nurses office for about ten minutes before a couple paramedics came in and loaded me on a stretcher. My mother and brother followed them out, my mother stereotypically crying. She, of course, rode in the ambulance with me while my brother drove my mother's car to the hospital.

The ride there consisted of my mother and I answering the paramedics questions. I was still on the verge of passing out. I constantly let my eyes flick down to my ankle, letting them rest on the large split that sat awkwardly on my ankle.

When I finally saw the starry black dots cloud my vision, I turned to my mother and mumbled something incoherent out. She grabbed my hand and hit it gently, struggling to keep me awake.

However, I let myself fall into an uncomfortable unconsciousness.
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Alright. I promised you a speedy chapter and that's what you got.
As I said, this chapter is incredibly important and will play a huge role in the rest of the story. So take notes on the events because they will impact the story.
God, I sound like my English teacher.
Alright, thank you for reading. Again, please let me know how I'm doing. As I mentioned in the last chapter, I was selected to be apart of a creative writing competition and constructive criticism is crucial for my success in the competition.
Thank you for reading!