Chapter 10: Chapter 10

In between gasps for breathe, Preston managed to focus on the house at the bottom of the driveway. He looked and tried to figure out what had brought him here. He walked over to the mailbox and opened it. It was empty, the flower was gone.

He rested his hands on his knees and crouched down to rest. The cemetery had been horrible. After the fire, he had run and the sound of the taunts and catcalls behind him made him shiver. That he was being pursued was humiliating, the fact that it was the second time in a week that the nerd had chased him only made it worse. Yet, whatever was going on, he finally realized that Martin was no longer the same boy he had pushed around and smeared carbon paper over. Martin was no longer human.

When Preston's side felt like it was going to split, he had collapsed onto the ground, expecting Martin to pounce on him. The grinning caricature of the once nerdy schoolboy was nowhere to be seen, leaving Preston to wonder through heaves of air, what had spared his life this time.

He looked at the house again and realized he wanted to go in.

Preston walked down the driveway and reached the door. He hesitated, wondering if this was what he really wanted. Ryan was as strange and mysterious as Martin and far from clarifying the situation, he realized she would only confuse it more. But as much as he tried to put her out of his mind, he kept turning over her words, her smile, and her mysteries. He hadn't consciously returned to his house, his feet just seemed to lead him here. He thought for a few minutes longer and pushed the button. He heard the bell reverberate and waited for the door to open.

She didn't open it. Instead he heard a voice.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Preston." He waited and finally he heard the bolt slide back and the handle turn. The door opened a crack and he could see her peering cautiously out.

"Preston the mystery man."

"Yes," he said embarrassed. She said nothing more and opened the door.

He walked into the brightly lit foyer and noticed her immediately. Even though her hair was matted down and she was wearing a tattered bathrobe, Preston thought she looked beautiful. He wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe she looked relieved to see him. It was the way her mouth seemed to lift slightly and the touch she gave him as he crossed the foyer and entered the house. Maybe she was even concerned although he couldn't be sure; it had been so long since anyone had ever shown it.

"I was worried about you. I didn't expect to ever see you again." Suddenly, after years of being beaten and abused, of being hated and despised, he wanted to tell her how good it felt to have someone express genuine concern over him. Instead, he simply said.

"I didn't either." She saw his charred features and sniffed the gasoline which wafted from his clothes.

"Accident at the gas station?" she said flatly and it struck Preston as very funny. He smiled and then he laughed as she stood watching him in confusion. "Well, can I offer you something to drink." He nodded as the laughing died down and they sat in the kitchen. She poured him a glass of water and then they sat in silence.

Tell her. Don't tell her a thing. This girl will understand. You don't know who she is. She saved your life. She's just a pretty little thing. She cares for you. Your not falling for her are you? Back and forth and finally Preston realized that the bold words were the correct ones and that risks were a part of life. Telling her and trusting Ryan was one of the risks he needed to take.

"I was at the cemetery."

"Why were you at the cemetery?" He took a sip of water and then started.

"It seemed to start when I beat up Martin. I suppose it wasn't the best thing to do but he was there, and I couldn't help myself. It just happened."

"You don't seem to have the best reputation in this town." Preston felt a spark of anger.

"What kind of reputation do I have?"

"Forget it, continue what you were saying."

"No, I want to know. What kind of reputation do I have?" he yelled. He looked at her beautiful green eyes and her dark hair. He saw the frown of her mouth and the curve of her long eyelashes. He saw himself tormenting younger kids, hurting and humiliating others. Martin's carbon smeared face appeared and Preston almost thought he could hear the crack of his father's belt. He spoke quietly.

"You've heard I'm a bully. You've heard that I'm a terrible bully that has tormented this town for years." His voice began to tremble. "What else have you heard? Did anyone tell you about how my mother killed herself? Or about how my father likes to beat the living crap out of me and even though everyone in the town knows, they don't lift a finger? Have you ever heard any of that Ryan? I'm just a little curious about that."

"Preston..."

"No, don't say a word. It's true of course, I am a bully. But you know what the ironic thing is? What's really funny is that I'm getting my due, because there's something out there that's a bigger bully than me, and whatever it is, it's determined to stamp out my miserable little existence. It's already decided to lop off my finger, and not even flame broiling the little monster will slow it down." He felt the fear rising and tried to fight it down. He pulled at his hair and took a deep breathe. She grabbed his arm and he felt both glad and angered by her touch. He needed her understanding but hated her pity and compassion. He decided to let her arm stay for the moment.

"Who is trying to kill you?" And with that he launched into his story. He talked about sleeping in the woods and she wanted to know why he slept in the woods. So he told her about his father. She probed and dwelved and Preston let her because he wanted to tell the story finally and she seemed ready to listen. He described the sound and seeing Martin. He wrinkled his nose when he described the smell and tried to remember Martin's exact words. When that portion was over he told her about the cemetery.

"It's crazy, just crazy and I wouldn't blame you if you thought I was a nut. I don't really know what's happening."

"I still don't understand why you went to the cemetery?"

"That was stupidity on my part. I had a feeling something was going to happen with his parents and I knew Martin would show up. I soaked the ground with gasoline and hoped to burn him. He did this to my finger," Preston choked, looking at the stump. Ryan gazed at him intently.

"And what happened?" she finally asked.

"Oh I don't know. I didn't see what happened but I think he knew about the gasoline and purposely let me light it to prove that it couldn't bother him. To show how much stronger he is. The little fucker is toying with me. Godammit!" Preston yelled angrily. Ryan rubbed his arm and Preston relaxed.

"Who are you?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His words seemed to float from his mouth and he could almost see them popping in sound in front of her face.

"I told you before, I don't really know. I'm a snippet of memories and a lot of dark, blank patches." In that moment there was a connection. Loneliness and confusion melding with loneliness and confusion and Preston did not need to ask if she believed his story. It was only as incredible as her own tale and he realized it didn't matter.

Her grasp grew harder on his arm and he moved his head closer to hers.

"Preston..." she whispered, but before he could answer their lips touched. He felt the moistness of her lips and touched her beautiful face. His fingers traced the lines of her jaw and followed the curve down to her collar bone. She tried to say something but he wouldn't let her and eventually she gave up and just kissed back.

Preston slid his chair closer and kissed her on the forehead. She caressed his back and brought her hands down to his chest. They hugged and Preston felt a tenderness that had been missing since the day his mother had died. He felt alive and whole and for a little while, the anger faded away and left him with something that he could only call bliss.

Ryan took his hand and stood up. She led him out of the kitchen, through the hall, and to the stairs. As they walked, Preston felt his finger begin to itch. He ignored it through the veil of desire and happiness which had descended over him. She guided him up the stairs and he watched her graceful movements, the perfect shape of her body, the graceful bend of her joints, and his desire hardened and flared.

Before they had reached the top of the stairs, he pushed her against the wall and passionately kissed her. His hands had become more adventurous, and he followed the curve of her body down to her breasts, and lightly touched them. She sighed, but did not resist. She pulled away and continued to guide him up. They reached the top and she walked towards a room.

The itch had become impossible to ignore, and Preston scratched his finger, hoping the annoyance would disappear. They reached the door and Preston felt a slight draft, thought he saw a small shadow. They kissed and Preston felt the breeze again.

"The last few days have really been strange," he said suddenly, trying to talk away the draft. Her passion had grown and she kissed him again.

"Yes." Her touch and feel had reduced the last days events to a dream, and he followed her into the room.

Her bed was a large canopy with white sheets and a down comforter. It looked comfortable and she led him over to it. They stopped at the edge of the bed and Preston began to unbutton her shirt. He kissed her neck and slowly moved down as he undid the other five buttons. Her shirt fell off and he massaged her breasts and felt her hands undoing the last of his shirt buttons. His shirt followed hers to the ground and they pivoted onto the bed.

His finger had begun to throb, but the adrenaline coursing through his body was sufficient to mask the pain. He felt wonderfully alive.

This was real. The feelings were there and with every touch and caress, every sigh and groan, Preston felt that his mind was being stimulated and changed. His pores seemed to have opened and were breathing in her scent and his nerves were heightened and amplified.

If only his fucking finger didn't hurt so much! He shook his hand to relieve the pain and then continued to explore her body. Her hand moved down his chest and stopped below his naval.

Go down further! he wanted to scream, Go down further! His primal instinct had taken over and the world began to fade. He only saw Ryan, and felt a tremendous build-up underway in his body. He felt her nipples poking through the light shirt she wore and he massaged them with his finger. Slowly, he lifted her shirt and lifted off her bra. He moved around and around and then finally he sucked her nipples and she shuddered.

His senses were overwhelmed and he imagined that the room was bathed in red light. The color seemed to soak the room and he thought it was coming from her closet. The cracks around the door glowed and for the briefest instant he wondered what kind of crazy hallucination he was experiencing. The shift in his vision added to his desire and he moved his hand under her pants and felt the smooth skin of her inner-thigh.

She bucked and Preston dimly noticed that her skin had taken on the same red shine. Beams of light crisscrossed the room and suddenly the throb in his finger exploded. Her hands unbuckled his belt and he felt his jeans being unzipped.

The light flashed wildly above them and Preston felt himself falling away from reality.

"Ryan," he exhaled, before the light, and the pain, and the pleasure consumed him.

He was standing in grass and when he looked up from the ground he could see it was part of an immense field. The grass was up to his knees and it swished slowly in the wind. Every so often there would be a quick movement, like something was moving in the concealed folds. In the distance, he thought he could see a structure. It was hard to define its shape and Preston eventually gave up.

He began to walk, and the walk eventually turned into a run. Something was tugging at him, urging him forward and toward the structure. The grass moved behind him and soon he was out of it, and onto a flat field. The field was covered with scraps of metal and other object which reflected the sun into his eyes. He wanted to stop and examine them, but the feeling drew him on.

He was getting closer, but still he could not make out the shape of the structure. Standing on top of the edifice, was a figure wearing brightly colored clothing. The clothing flapped in the wind and Preston felt the character staring at him and willing him forward.

The amount of debris littering the field had increased, but Preston was still running to fast to discern what the shapes and shines were. He dodged a few large structures and leapt over a small river. He didn't hear anything but the silent and relentless summons forward.

Finally, when he thought the structure and the figure were about to come clear, he felt a tug that made him lurch and stumble. He nearly regained his balance and the tug came again, pulling at him as if he was a marionette. He stumbled again and this time lost his balance. The ground had changed and where there had been a flat plain, there was now a black gaping hole. Preston felt his stomach drop and threw his hands up in a frantic attempt to keep himself from being swallowed.