Page 2 of His to Ruin
“You gotta stop talking down about yourself, Christian,” Kaleb admonishes. He’s not wrong, I am harsh on myself and he has told me more than once that I need to make sure I am treating myself with the respect I deserve. I can’t help it though, I use self-depreciation as a defense mechanism. “Besides, ghosts and demons don’t give a shit if you believe in them, they’ll haunt you anyway.”
I’m not sure I believe in ghost stories like the shitty autobiography of a family living in a haunted house that we found in the stockroom which got us started on this whole conversation. But I do believe in evil, in darkness. I experience it every night when I close my eyes. Sleep paralysis induced insomnia is what I’m officially diagnosed with. They can call it whatever they want, I know the truth. And the truth is far more terrifying than stupid ghost stories.
“Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Tough Guy,” I joke as I open another unknown box of books that needs to be labeled.
“Hey, I may be buff,” he flexes his arms to demonstratehis point, “but even I don’t fuck with that shit. Like Ouija boards and shit. Nope, hard fucking pass.”
“Oh, come on, you know that stuff is fake. It’s just people moving it and pretending they didn’t.”
I’ve only used an Ouija board once when I was a pimple-faced preteen. It was at the one and only party I went to in middle school. Back when I still thought maybe I could be into girls, I was invited to a party at Cindy Erickson’s house and decided I couldn’t turn down that invitation. She was always kind and pretty, so I went. I ended up leaving with hot, angry tears running down my face and the sense of dread following me the entire way home. They’d all messed with me, pretending the spirit board had said it wanted me. It even went as far as to spell out my entire name, including my middle name. I have no idea how those asshole wannabe-jock preteens figured out my full middle name, but apparently the lengths kids are willing to go to in order to mess with the ‘nerdy kid’ is pretty fucking far. I still have nightmares about that party. Clearly, a part of my subconscious isn’t willing to let the humiliation go.
Kaleb’s phone ringing loudly pulls me from my thoughts, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the basement. I look around the room, it looks considerably better than when we started organizing a few hours ago. It will never be perfect, but it’s better.
“Yeah babe, that sounds good,” Kaleb says into the phone, clearly talking to his girlfriend. I’ve met her. She’s cute and skinny and blonde. Together they make a picture-perfect couple. “I’ll wrap up here and head over.”
Hanging up the phone, Kaleb dusts off his hands. “I’m going to head out, man, gotta pick up my girlfriend. You want to walk out together?”
I squint through the low light of the dying bulbs thatilluminate the space. There’s only maybe a handful of boxes left to be labeled and organized. I’d rather get the job done instead of having to stay late a second night.
“Nah,” I tell him as I crouch to grab one of the boxes thrown haphazardly on the dirty cement floor. “I’ll finish up these last few and then head out. You go on without me.”
“You sure?” he asks with hesitation creeping into his tone. “I don’t want to leave you to walk home alone this late.”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him with a wave of my hand. “What’s going to happen to me on a walking trail on a random Tuesday night? Slip and sprain my ankle? I live three blocks away, I’ll be fine.”
He sits silently for a minute, bobbing between the balls of his feet. He might be a bit of a pretty-boy who's here mostly for the Manga section of the store, but he’s a good guy at heart.
“Go on,” I assure him. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you.”
“Alright, thanks, man. I’ll catch you on Thursday,” he says with a smile. Tomorrow is my day off, another reason I agreed to stay late tonight.
“Drive safe,” I holler as his pounding footsteps take the stairs two at a time.
I hear him moving around on the floor above me as he gathers his things. After a few moments, the sound of the door closing echoes through the empty space, leaving me alone in the darkness.
The night airis cool and crisp against my heated face as I step out of the door of the bookshop. The last few boxes didn’t take me very long to sort, but they were really heavy. My skin iscovered in a light layer of sticky perspiration. The fall air against my sweat-slicked skin is refreshing. Locking up the door to the shop, I take a deep inhale before walking down the front walkway and toward the alley that leads to the back of the shop. The storefront is right on the main street of our small Northeastern town, but the walking path that runs along the creek out back cuts through the trees, providing a shortcut to my small apartment.
As I walk through the alley to head toward the back of the shop, I catch sight of the brightly colored trees of the woods beyond. The vibrant yellows and oranges are a stark contrast against the darkness of the night sky. I’ve always loved fall. It’s cozy and comforting; and for someone as pale as I am, a break from the sun and heat is always pleasant. My messenger bag is slung over my shoulder, and with each step the body of the bag hits lightly against my corduroy-covered thigh. I savor the calm quietness of this moment to myself, allowing my shoulders to hang loosely without the usually constant tightness of anxiety.
“Hey faggot!” a voice calls from off to my left.
I swing swiftly toward the sound. My heart lodges uncomfortably in my throat with the sudden scare. I thought I’d been alone, completely unaware that someone else was out here at this time of night. My eyes adjust to the shadows, allowing me to make out five tall figures slinking from the darkness of the building down the street.Fuck.
As quickly and calmly as I can, I make a dash for the cover of the trees. Without stopping or slowing, I reach one hand into my messenger bag, desperately feeling for the sharp metal of my keys among the books and papers nestled inside. The thundering sound of footsteps from behind has me quickening my own steps.
“We’re talking to you, fag! Get the fuck back here!” one ofthem shouts. His voice sounds close, too close. I’m not going to be able to outrun them, they’re too fast.
Fear grips my chest as I break out into a full-on sprint. Ripping my keys from my bag, I throw the strap over my head, letting the heavy books fall to the ground with a thud. My heart pumps rapidly in my chest, threatening to rip through my ribs as I run as fast as I can. Just a little bit further. I’m only about a hundred yards from the tree line. Once I’m out of the open, I can lose them among the twisted branches and falling leaves. I can make it. I have to make it. I push my feet to move quicker, desperate to escape the monsters behind me.
Suddenly, the wind is knocked completely from my lungs as a hard body hits me from behind, shoving me to the ground. Rough gravel scrapes at my skin, leaving a stinging burn across my cheek and forearm. I groan in agony as the initial shock fades into searing pain. My attacker doesn’t relent; his firm body presses me ruthlessly in the harsh ground beneath us.
“Caught us a fucking fairy, boys,” his cold and merciless voice growls in my ear. “Let’s see if we can teach him a lesson about how real men act.”
The shadowy figures looming above me chuckle at the taunt. The others circle around us, cutting off any hope I had of escape.
What the fuck do I do? Fight back or take the blows and hope they get tired?
Meaty fingers slide into my hair, twisting my pale waves roughly. Stinging pain radiates through my scalp as my head is ripped back. My neck strains in discomfort to try to accommodate the way my head is being pulled.