Hated – Part Two – Fleeting Dreams and Waking Nightmares

Billy’s phone blared at his bedside, rousing him from sleep after only a few hours. Having worked nearly forty-eight hours straight, before finally being allowed to sleep, this was not the way he had planned his weekend to start. Cursing to himself, he picked up the phone and growled “What!?”

The voice on the other end of the line was hesitant, slightly raspy, and female. “Mr. Perkins? Am I speaking to William Perkins?” She asked, almost as if she were hoping she wasn’t. And after the way Billy had answered the phone, he could understand why she might wish that.

“Yeah. Sorry for the attitude, you woke me up out of a deep sleep.” He explained lamely, hoping whoever this was could understand “Who’s speaking please?”

“Mr. Perkins, my name is Amelia Warren, I’m a social worker with Child Protective Services,” The lady explained carefully, “I’m calling from Our Lady of Mercy Hospital. It’s about your nephew Peter Daniels.”

Whatever the lady on the phone said next was lost on Billy, as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Had that lousy cunt finally stepped over the line with Petey? Why was she calling from a hospital? What the fuck was going on? All these questions, and a sense of dread like he had never experienced before, caved in on top of him, the instant she had said Petey’s name. “What happened?” he demanded quickly, as he fumbled around in the dark for his clothes. “What did my sister do to Petey?”

“Mr. Perkins, it would be best if we could have a face to face talk about your nephew. How quickly can you be at the hospital?” She asked, sounding as if time might not be on Billy’s side.

“Miss Warren was it?” Billy asked shortly, and she answered in the affirmative, “I’m a commercial welder, I’m on a contract on the pipeline up here in Alaska! I don’t know how quickly I can get back there, but you can be damn sure I’m on the next available flight!” he said as he jammed his feet into his work boots. “Now tell me what the hell happened to Petey!”

“Mr. Perkins, I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say this sir… But Peter is in a coma in the pediatric care wing. It seems his mother tried to beat him to death in their yard early this morning… Mr. Perkins? Are you still there?” She asked into the silence on the other end of the line.

“What? Yeah. Yeah I’m still here,” Billy mumbled, as tears began to slide down his cheeks, his nephew was in a coma, and here he sat, on the other side of the continent, unable to be there for him. His heart dropped, as he realized he might never get to see the loving, innocent smile on Petey’s face again. He had to get there. And he had to get there fast! “Look, Miss Warren, I’m gonna be there as fast as I can. Just have someone take care of Petey until I get there ok? Make sure if he wakes up, that he knows Uncle Billy is coming!” And with that he hung up and dashed out of his camper in the yard of the crew camp running toward the foreman’s trailer as fast as his legs could carry him.

It actually took surprisingly little effort to be given home leave after explaining the situation. A jeep took him from camp into town, some little village with no real name, that didn’t even appear on maps. But Billy had to wait almost a full day for a bush pilot to pick him up. Every minute was an agony for him, knowing his nephew needed him, and that he was powerless to do anything for him. Finally after nearly two days of waiting and cramped travel, Billy’s plane was taking off from Anchorage, taking him home for the first time in nearly a year.

It took Billy nearly thirteen hours, and three transfers to make it home. And when he did, his body was so exhausted he could barely stand. He had called the social worker Miss Warren from Denver to let her know when he was due to land, and to inquire about Petey. Only to be told his condition was unchanged. By the time he arrived at Our Lady of Mercy, visiting hours were nearly over, but Billy demanded to see his nephew before he left.

Miss Warren escorted him to Pete’s room, quietly bracing him for what he was about to see, she wouldn’t go into detail about the extent of his injuries, but she did warn him they were severe. Finally they stopped by a large picture window, and Billy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The handsome face of his nephew, which had always managed to smile whenever Billy was around, was mangled, nearly beyond recognition. The right eye was swollen shut so badly, Billy couldn’t even tell if he still had it, the broken cheek bone and jaw were so puffy that they distorted the entire contour of his face. Petey’s head was bandaged above his left ear with the hair shaved down, showing mute testimony of having needed many stitches at the very least.

Petey’s left arm was in a cast from his hand to his elbow, the brutally discolored fingers poking out feebly from the plaster. A bandage covered his left cheek where it had had to be stitched closed. Billy could see the edges of a soft cast which wrapped around Petey’s left side, through the opening in his hospital gown, obviously to support and protect broken ribs. And Petey’s right arm was wrapped in gauze covering some other, unknown wound.

Taking in the picture of his sweet, innocent nephew, lying there, unmoving, on his eighth birthday of all days, was more than Billy could handle. With a wrenching sob, a damn broke inside of him as he sank to his knees in tears. Billy was beyond words, beyond grief, all he could think was that he had somehow let this happen. He knew his sister had never really loved her son. And he felt he should have been there to protect him from her. And now Petey was here, unable to move, unable to see, that somebody, even just one person in this world, loved him. The tears would not stop, and Billy was powerless to try, but finally, after nearly fifteen minutes of heart wrenching sobbing he simply had no more tears left in him.

The next three weeks were such an emotional grind for Billy that he barely registered anything other than sadness, as he sat, day in and day out at Petey’s bedside. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he whispered to the boy, begging him to wake up, letting him know that Uncle Billy was there, and that he would always have his back from now on. Telling him how he was going to take him home, make things right for the boy.

Billy was sitting in the chair looking out the window at the cloudy September morning, thinking that this would have been the perfect kind of morning for Petey and Goliath to be in their yard, playing like they always did. When a new sound snapped him out of his grim thoughts.

“Uncle Billy?” a dry voice rasped behind him. Jerking him back to reality in a flash, as he spun around to the bed behind him. “Where are we Uncle Billy? And where’s Goliath?” Petey was awake! For the first time in weeks, the sun seemed to shine on Billy’s world, Petey was finally awake. Tears poured down Billy’s cheeks as nurses and doctors rushed into the room to poke and prod the small, scared boy. Weeks later, after poor Pete was finally released from the hospital, a fresh hope of going to live with Uncle Billy, bringing that smile back to his face, both of their worlds came crashing down.

In a surprising turn of events, the social worker Miss Warren had, citing Billy’s on again, off again, employment, and the need for him to travel extensively for such employment, recommended that Pete be placed into foster care. Thinking that a stable home would be best for the boy. Sadly for Pete, and Billy, the judge agreed. Pete was taken, screaming and crying for his Uncle Billy into the system, where his life would be irreparably changed. Over the next eight years Pete’s life heaved from one unstable home to the next. Pete being forcibly removed from three of them due to severe physical, and sexual abuse.

As the years of pain and isolation continued, several changes happened to poor Pete. He finally realized that love was a sham. Anyone who ever told you they loved you either left when things got hard like his Uncle Billy, or used that emotion as a weapon, like his mom, or any number of his foster parents, like his first foster father, who would come into Pete’s room at night, and leave the poor boy a crying mess for days afterward.

Pete also finally grew into the promise his father had shown. By the time he was sixteen years old Pete had reached six foot two inches tall, closer to six foot four if he bothered not slouching, and weighed almost two hundred pounds. He was lean and muscular, his brown hair had filled out and now he kept it scraggly, covering his face, in the hopes to hide the scars left by his mother. Sadly for Pete, it was the soft good looks, inherited from his father, that led him to the last bit of hell the foster system could throw at him. His foster mother Sarah, a single, rather plain woman in her forties had gotten drunk one night, and knowing how Pete reacted to harsh words, began berating him for being such a failure that his mother didn’t even want him. Pete had been near tears wondering why he was being treated this way, until with a sultry smile she had told him how he could make up for his failings.

Taking Pete by the hand she had led him to her bedroom. Pushing him against the wall, the drunken woman dragged Pete’s face down to hers, and for the first time in his life, he was kissed. She kissed him aggressively, her tongue forcing its way into Pete’s mouth. Up until that moment in his life, Pete had never been kissed by a woman. He didn’t even have a memory of his mother ever touching him in a loving manner. But, even though he knew Sarah had felt nothing for him, being a teenager, he couldn’t stop himself from having a visceral, physical reaction to her.

Moaning deep in her throat, Sarah had reached down and began rubbing the obvious bulge in Pete’s jeans. “Mmmmm” she had growled, her voice low and gravelly “I’ve been watching you boy. I’ve seen what you hide in these pants you big fucker.” She said as she began tugging his pants open, roughly forcing her hand deep into his fly, searching for the end of his cock as it snaked down the right leg of his pants. “Jesus boy, I knew you were big! But damn!”

Sarah had then pulled Pete by the waist of his pants across the room to her bed, feverishly trying to force his carpenter jeans down without bothering with his belt. Reaching up with her hand she roughly pulled Pete down into another sloppy, and unwanted kiss, moaning and breathing cheap wine into his mouth. “Time to earn your keep you little fucker,” she whispered, when she finally managed to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Looking down she gasped at what she saw. Fully erect Pete had to be over nine inches long, and at least as thick around as a can of that axe cologne he was always using. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, this boy was bigger than any man she’d ever been with! “You make Miss Sarah feel good Petey, and I’ll make sure the social worker doesn’t send you back to the group home again.” Sarah breathed, as she desperately worked her jeans and panties down her over wide hips displaying her hairy, sopping wet cunt to the poor boy “That’s right Petey… You make sure Miss Sarah feels good, and Miss Sarah’s gonna make sure she takes real good care of you.”

Pete had heard this whole line before. A foster father who told him he’d see his Uncle Billy again if he just shut up and let it happen. A seventeen year old foster brother who told him he would make sure he got the shit end of life, taking the blame for all the petty shit the older boy took joy in pulling, unless an eleven year old Pete would suck the pathetic four inch excuse for a cock he had without complaint. The director of the group home who had promised to find Pete a good home, so long as he let him touch the boy how he wanted. And now this, an overweight, middle aged, woman promising Pete a better life so long as he gave her what she wanted.

Pete was forced back into reality as Sarah took hold of his enormous cock, and slowly slotted it into the entrance of her hairy, overused, vagina. “C’mon Petey, push it in me now! Time to prove you’re worth the effort boy!” She urged, as she wrapped her chubby thighs around his waist, and slowly pulled him inside of her. All of Pete’s sexual experiences up to this point in his life, had been disgusting, painful, and extremely degrading. This was the first time in his life that he could remember, where even though he was being forced or coerced into performing, that it actually felt good. This isn’t to say that Pete was happy, being forced into sex yet again, but at least this time there would be no pain, this time Pete thought, he may actually get some pleasure out of the act too.

Pete went with what he felt Sarah doing, and slowly pushed his cock into her. Sarah wasn’t exactly tight, but she was warm, and wet, and for Pete, it felt better than anything he had ever been forced to do before. Once he was half way into her pussy, Sarah’s eyes were as wide as saucers, her breath coming in sharp pants as she felt him continue to push more and more of his thick fuck rod into her. “Oh God Pete!” She moaned as he finally bottomed out, the head of his huge cock nudging her cervix, and his heavy balls resting on her flabby ass cheeks, “Stroke it baby. Pump that giant fucker into me.” She hissed, as her hands pushed against Pete’s waist, causing him to partially withdraw from her cunt.

“Oh my God! Miss Sarah…” Pete whispered, as he finally felt, for the first time in his life, the kind of physical pleasures sex could give. Up until this moment in his life, Pete had had a completely understandable aversion to intimate contact. Of course, being a teenaged boy he had masturbated, though it had never been out of any desire for sexual gratification, only to ease the pressure and pain that invariably built up after weeks of denying his urges. This was totally different, this was actually something Pete never knew he could, or ever be worthy of, experiencing. And following Sarah’s command, he pushed his cock back into her pussy, again nudging her cervix. Slowly, with her verbal, and physical queues, Pete began to build a rhythm of his thrusts, withdrawing half way out, and then sliding back in, hearing Sarah gasp and moan as his pace built.

To Sarah’s surprise and delight, Pete seemed built to fuck, outlasting her expectations of an all too quick first time. As the first few minutes rolled by, and she realized that Pete was not even close to cumming, she began to thrust her sloppy hole back at that beautiful rod that was pounding into her. His hard, lean waist pummeling her hips, as her clit scraped along his enormous cock. “Ooohhhhh GOD! Yes! Keep pumping baby! Oh…” She shouted, her back arching off the bed as a huge orgasm overtook her, “Fuck! Yes Petey! Fuck me baby… Make me feel good baby!” Sarah shrieked, as she convulsed underneath Pete’s body. It was more than Pete could stand, and, after nearly fifteen minutes of thrusting into Sarah’s sopping cunt, he couldn’t hold back, and began cumming deep inside her. His orgasm hit him like a truck, his mind going blank as white hot pleasure burned into the core of his being. He knew what cumming was, but never before had he experienced actual pleasure from the act. To Pete it had always simply been a way to relieve the pressure. Now, it was something altogether different.

“Miss Sarah!” he shouted hoarsely, as he made his last few stabs into her cunt, the spasms of orgasm shaking through him, “Oh God Miss Sarah! I’m Cumming!” he cried, and dropped his body down onto hers, her flabby stomach and tits supporting him as he shook slightly in the afterglow of his first time.

“That’s right baby,” Sarah had whispered, as she ran her fingers through his hair, “You made Miss Sarah feel really good baby, so Miss Sarah is gonna take good care of you.” Sadly, even as Pete heard her say the words, he knew she was lying. He knew she didn’t feel anything real for him, she had already explained to him that he was nothing more than a stipend check to her. And now, after this episode, Pete knew, he was just a means for her to get her own pleasure.

“Yes ma’am,” He whispered softly, as he slowly pulled himself up and off of Sarah, and pulled his pants back up as he hesitantly backed himself out of her door. Just before the door closed again, he said to her, as she watched him with that same sick hunger he was all too familiar with, “I know you will.”

And so, over the next few months, the cycle continued. Sarah would treat him as if he were either invisible, or like he somehow disgusted her, most of the time. But maybe two or three nights of the week, Pete would see her look at him with that hunger, the look he already knew, meant that night he would be forced to fuck her again. And worse, Pete knew he couldn’t tell her no. The one, and only time he tried, she had used his traumatized psyche, and physical abuse to force him to perform, screaming and ranting, throwing silverware, and pot lids at him until he was flinching so violently that he couldn’t even defend himself when she finally began to whale on the poor boy with a thick leather belt. Pete had finally been forced to beg, with tears in his eyes, and a pleading look on his face, to fuck Sarah as a sign that he really was sorry.

It wasn’t until months later, after Pete had finally resigned himself to being Miss Sarah’s plaything until she either got tired of him, or he aged out of the system when he turned eighteen, that the final change in the boy became apparent. Pete had become, by habit, and through the ministrations of his various foster families, an extreme introvert. Barely speaking to people, sometimes for weeks at a time, unless forcefully confronted on the issue. Refusing to participate in any group activity, knowing that people could never know his secrets and still want him around, electing instead to go his own way. He never went out of his way to draw any attention to himself. Sadly though, his height, his soft good looks, and the lean sculpted body he had inherited from his father got him more attention than he ever wanted.

People stared at him, the shy ratty kid, wearing the second hand clothes that barely fit him. The scars on his face, and that crisscrossed his arms and hands, drew their eyes to him no matter how hard he tried to blend into the background. It made him angry whenever those eyes stayed on him for too long. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ they seemed to say, or ‘What a freak!’ they seemed to sneer. All except for Ashley Waters. To Pete, it seemed her eyes were mirrors of his own world, those glorious gray orbs showed compassion, fear, pain, and most importantly of all to Pete, understanding. He could look at Ashley, and see in her eyes that she knew exactly what kind of pain and torment he lived in. To him, they were the most beautiful things in the world.

Which is how Pete discovered the final change his life had wrought in him. Pete wasn’t the only person in school who had noticed Ashley, she was, after all, a very beautiful young lady. Barely five foot two, and one hundred twenty pounds, she had pale luminous skin with a heart stopping, hourglass figure. Her hair was rust red, and reached past her shoulders, and framed a gorgeous face, her lips were soft, and full, offsetting her high cheekbones, and her nose had a slightly upturned point that Pete thought absolutely beautiful. One day, as Pete was at his locker, gathering his books to take home with him, he noticed Ashley down the hall with her back against the lockers, clutching her books to her chest, as the star running back for the high school football team, Tony Bradford, leaned over her preventing her from going anywhere.

Pete paused, as he watched Tony talking softly to Ashley, who, he thought looked almost too scared to move. All she would do is shake her head violently whenever Tony said something to her, and Pete could tell, that Tony was not happy with her reactions. If he was asked later why he did it, Pete would never be able to explain, but on an impulse, borne from intuition, Pete started walking down the hall toward them. As he got closer he could hear Tony’s voice get louder, and angrier as Ashley again shook her head no at whatever it was he had said.

“Damn bitch! You know who you’re saying no to?” he demanded hotly, as he grabbed Ashley by the arm and tried to pull her down the hallway. She turned her head to Pete, fear, and hopelessness in her eyes, in a silent, desperate plea for help. Those eyes… The sunlight in Pete’s world of misery… There were tears in Ashley Waters’ eyes. And something inside of Pete snapped. A wall he had built around himself for more than eight years came crashing down, and all of the pain, and anguish he had built up over those years came pouring out of him, in one primal, animalistic, scream.

Pete didn’t know how he covered the space between himself, and Tony as fast as he did. All he knew was that before he realized what was happening, he had collided with Tony with bone jarring force. The running back was suddenly airborne, slamming violently into the wall as Pete hit him as hard as he could manage. Before Tony could clear his head, Pete doubled up his fist, and drove it into his stomach hard enough to lift the boy’s feet several inches off of the floor. Ashley was crying, Pete hit Tony again, this time, in the mouth that had dared to call her a bitch. There were tears in Ashley’s eyes, Pete hit Tony again, his fist colliding with the cheek of the running back, snapping his head back hard enough to hit the wall behind him. Tony slid to the floor, trying feebly to cover himself as Pete fell on him like an avalanche. The fists kept falling, smashing this man, who, with one action toward Ashley, had suddenly become his mortal enemy. It was over quickly, too quickly for Pete’s liking, as Tony went limp on the floor, blood running from his nose and mouth. Pete wanted to keep hitting him, tried to in fact, when a large hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and roughly yanked him off of the unconscious Tony, and slammed him into the lockers behind him.

“Daniels!” Mr. Roberston, the assistant principal of the school yelled. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Let. Me. Go.” Pete growled, his voice low, and guttural, as he stared directly into the eyes of the man who had pulled him off of Tony. It almost shocked Pete when the older man nearly flinched at the intensity in his voice. “He wanted to hurt her.” Pete grated through clenched teeth, his eyes going straight to the silent Ashley, who stood, staring back and forth between Pete, and the battered Tony, her mouth hanging open in shock.

Pete sat in the assistant principal’s office for almost two hours, sitting across the desk from Mr. Robertson, his blank stare, and apparent lack of any emotions, after a sudden outburst of violence like he just unleashed, and the idea, quite frankly, scared the shit out of the older man. The boy simply sat there, not saying a word, just staring into the space between them like nothing else existed. “Peter,” Mr. Robertson began gently, for what must have been the tenth time. “Peter please, could you explain to me how you knew Mr. Bradford was trying to harm Miss Waters?” Mr. Robertson asked. He had already listened to Ashley tearfully explain how Tony had been trying to get her to go with him to the band room, a room notoriously used by students for clandestine encounters. She had gone on to explain that after she had told Tony no, that he had tried to drag her there by force. And he would have too, if Pete hadn’t been there to stop him. “Peter, please I need to understand this, before things get completely out of hand here, I need to understand.”

Mr. Robertson nearly jumped out of his skin, as Pete turned his eyes on him, and started talking. For the next half hour, Mr. Robertson sat, and listened, a growing sense of horror descending on him, as he heard Pete tell someone, for the first time, the full story of his life. He heard it all, everything from the pain his mother inflicted on him, and the joy that Goliath had brought him, to the unmitigated nightmare his life had become bouncing from foster home to group home and back. The beatings, the rape, the abuse. Pete held nothing back, nothing of course except his current nightmare, Pete knew he couldn’t talk about that, he couldn’t risk going back to the group home, not this close to finally being free. “So Mr. Robertson,” Pete finally said softly “Like I told you in the hallway. I knew he was going to hurt her, because I know what it looks like when someone is going to hurt you.” The light brown eyes, which at sixteen, should have been smiling, and full of life, looked hollowly at the assistant principal, and the complete lack of life behind them caused a chill to creep up the man’s spine. “You wanted to understand. You know, but you will never understand.” Pete’s voice was nearly a whisper as he sat stationary, not even blinking, in his chair.

It was eventually decided that, mitigating circumstances allowed for Pete to serve a two week suspension, and the school’s threat to press charges for attempted assault on school property against Tony, kept the boy’s parents from pressing charges against Pete. It was almost a winning situation for Pete. Almost, except for the fact that now Sarah had him to herself for two weeks. During those two weeks, Pete rode a roller coaster of emotions that was by now all too painfully familiar with. He went from being Sarah’s sweet boy, who did such a wonderful job of making her feel desirable, with his magnificent cock, to being shunned, ridiculed, and even occasionally physically abused by the woman, for being such a terrible child, and getting suspended for fighting. But through it all, Pete had one thing that kept him firmly anchored, and helped him cope. He had Ashley Waters’ eyes, as they gazed at him in the principals office, showing him just how much what he had done for her had meant.