No one had asked Pete anything about himself in a long time. He felt he needed to keep his guard up. Pete's secrets were his only defense left. But he was also feeling terribly lonely and knew the time was coming that he would have to trust someone.
People used to show concern about Pete's drug and alcohol use. Treatment centres and various programmes were recommended. Two different interventions took place. He remembers the first intervention because he had a big zit in the middle of his forehead and he remembers the second one because he had noticed his socks didn't match. Pete responded to most suggestions of help with a pointed finger and an angry "Please leave me alone."
His family and friends had resigned themselves to the idea that Pete didn't want to recover from this. They just took a step back and watched the show..
Pete looked over at Justin who was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall.
He was waiting for an answer.
Justin said calmly, "Did you convince your mother to kill herslf?"
"Well..um..." Pete mumbled, "Some bad shit happened to me."
"What shit?"
Justin was picking at his toenails.
Pete was tearing up.
"I don't talk about it much. But ya, my mom killed herself because of me."
"That's fucked up. So, um, what, are you hiding here or something?"
"That's not it,." said Pete.
"That's NOT why you're hiding."
"No."
Where's your dad in all of this?.
"He died in a plane crash when I was 8 but that has nothing to do with my mother."
"What the fuck man?"
Pete sat there with tears running down his face. Silent.
After a while he began.
"Justin, my mother married another man and he moved into the house when I was 9 and he fathered 2 more boys.
And he began raping me."
Pete took deep breaths in between the words.
Justin, I was a happy little boy.
Justin didn't know what to say.
So after some sort of sober thought, this came out:
"Fuck dude, your shit has weight."
Pete said, "I guess."
How often did he do that?
Pete struggled to say, "Once about every couple of months. It would have been less terrifying if it hadn't been so random."
For how long?
"Until I was 13."
Justin stared sympathetically at Pete.
"And I couldn't tell anyone"
Why not dude. What the fuck?
Ed, my step-dad, said that if I even mentioned anything he would kill my little brothers.. I love them so much. So I was scared to death. Basically no one was going to believe me anyway..
"So you just accepted it?"
Guess so.
Justin asked, "Aren't you worried your little brothers might be at risk."
"No. I told Ed that if there was even a hint that he was doing something to those boys I would kill him."
And what did he say.
"He said, "I would never. They're my sons. That would be weird."
"THAT would be weird." Justin was bewildered.
"Ya.."
"Justin, I don't have a lot of power or control over anything in my life.But the one thing I could do is rip my family apart with one call to the police. And if Ed got sent away my little brothers would be left with no one but me. I am in no position to raise them right."
Justin got up and walked across the room and gave Pete the most sincere hug he had ever had.
He whispered in Pete's ear, "Pete, you are so damaged. This is unfair" Pete bawled and Justin didn't let go.
Pete whispered in Justin's ear, "When I was a little boy and I was sleeping I used to dream there were angels hovering over me, protecting me. And one night they vanished and HE appeared over me. Nothing has protected me since.
I want that feeling back Justin and the only time that seems to happen is when, well, you know.
I do...
God owes me that, you know, Not to be scared.
In your case, dude, I think he does.
They got high again.
"Funny thing is..." Pete began, "with my mother gone. I inherit my house. But for now I have the police looking for me and a funeral to miss."
"Did I mention I'm homeless?" Justin added.
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