"Mr. Yang," Mr. Harris, the camp worker, says. "This is Xiong Ker. He will be sharing your hut from now on."

I stare at the man standing there next to Mr. Harris. He's short, at least a foot shorter than my 6'5". He's skinny, too. His clothes - a baggy black long sleeve shirt and a baggy pair of black sweat pants - hang loosely off his frame. His hair is long and straight, going down a few inches past his slender shoulders. His skin is pale, and I can make out a large, dark red ugly scar sitting on his cheek, right below his right eye.

He looks scared. His eyes are large as they look everywhere but mine and Mr. Harris' eyes. His body trembles slightly, too. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder what he's been through. Did he loose everything, just like me? Was he a soldier, just like me? I have so many questions, but I can't ask them. Not now. Not yet.

"Welcome to the camp, Xiong," I say with false optimism. I fake a smile, and hope it's convincing. I stick out my hand, waiting for Xiong to shake it. "My name's Yang Lee."

Instead of shaking it, he simply stares at it. His mouth opens up slightly, and, for the first time, his eyes meet mine. They're dark; darker than I have ever seen a pair of eyes before. They flash with an unreadable dark emotion. For the second time, I wonder what he has been through. Would he tell me if I ask?

I want to ask him so many questions, but, instead, my anger gets the best of me. "Are you stupid?" I growl out, narrowing my eyes. "You shake it. Don't you know how to shake hands?"

He flinches, and, for a moment, I feel guilty. Tentatively, he reaches out his hand and takes mine in a loose grip. His hand is cold. Freezing, in fact. When he shakes my hand, his sleeve rides up, and I see a few dark red scars peeking through. My breath hitches. Did he do those himself? Did he get them from somewhere, from someone?

Hurridly, he pulls his hand away, and pulls down his sleeve further, curling his fingers tightly around the end. He stares up at me with wide eyes full of fear. For some reason, I want to reach out to him, and take all his pain away. I've only just met the man, but I think I have already fallen for him. He's beautiful, even with the dirty face and scars. I want to comfort him, protect him. I want to see him smile. I want to hear his laugh. I want to make him happy.

"Do you talk, Xiong?" I asks curiously. "You haven't spoken at all since I've met you."

The man shakes his head quickly. He opens his mouth, but closes it just fast as it had opened. He was about to speak. I know it. Why is he so afraid to? What happened to him that made him like this? I don't know him, but I don't think he deserves whatever it is that had happened to him. I know what happened to me, but I don't think my experience is as bad as Xiong's.

"Come on," I say gruffly. I turn around, ready to walk back to my hut. I'm craving alcohol. I haven't had a drink in over an hour. I hope Xiong doesn't mind that I drink. Smoke, too. "Let's go."

I begin my walk to my hut, and I hear Xiong's light footsteps behind me. My hut is not that far away from the front of the camp, where the workers live. I only have to walk a few minutes. I breathe a sigh of relief when I step inside my hut. It's much cooler inside than it is outside. I don't see how Xiong can stand the heat. I'm wearing shorts and a tank top, and I'm sweating and hot as hell. How can he survive in long sleeves and tennis shoes?

"Make yourself at home, Xiong," I tell him. He stands in the doorway, looking around. God, this man is cute as hell. I feel strange, because I've never been attracted to a man like this before. I've only ever fallen for and been with women. I even had a wife and a few children back in my village. I've been attracted to a few men, but not as strongly as I am attracted to Xiong.

Xiong steps into the hut, and closes the door behind him. He leans against the wall, and slides down. I watch as he pulls his legs up close to his chest, and wrap his arms tightly around them. He rests his chin on top of his knees, and stares off into space. To my horror, I see a single tear slide down his cheek. I see his lips quiver. He buries his face into his legs, hiding his face from me.

"Hey," I say softly. I talk a long gulp of alcohol, enjoying the burning feeling of it sliding down my throat. He looks up at me, startled. "You'd better not cry. Men don't cry. I don't want to be known as the one who has a sissy crybaby for a roommmate."

I curse myself, and take another long drink. Why am I like this? Why am I so angry and abusive? I never meant to hurt Xiong. I don't want to see him upset. I want to be the one to hold him, to dry his tears, to scare his monsters away. I don't want to hurt him. I want to protect him from pain.

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I hate myself even more now. I watch as Xiong stares up at me with wide, sorrowful eyes. I look away, ashamed. I take another drink, and another. I finish off the bottle. I can feel the affects of alcohol work its way through my veins. Suddenly, I feel anger - no, red hot rage - wash over me. Inside my mind, I can hear their screams. Meiying's screams. Ko's screams. Ia's screams. They echo off the walls of my brain.

"Fucking piece of shit!" I yell suddenly. I look to Xiong, and see him jump up, a startled cry escaping past those beautiful, pink plump lips. I storm over to him, and, roughly, grab his long, beautifully silky-soft hair. He cries out. I push him hard against the bamboo wall, still holding tightly to his hair. I push my face close to his, so close that our noses brush up against one another. Without sparing a moment, I press my lips hard against his own in a passionate, bruising kiss.

I can hear him whimper and moan into my mouth, and this turns me on even more. I can feel hot tightness in my pants, and, I, too, moan lowly. I deepen the kiss by pushing my tongue deep into his mouth, exploring it. He tries to push away, but I wrap my free hand tightly around his slim waist, pulling him close against me. My growing erection presses against Xiong' s belly. I let go of Xiong' s hair, and reach for the zipper of my pants. I pull it down, and pull down both my pants, and my underwear.

I reluctantly break the kiss, but only to step out of my jean shorts and underwear. Xiong's eyes widen as he watches me tug down his sweatpants and underwear. He protests, moaning and squirming as I do so. Tears well up in his eyes, and a few slide down his rosy red cheeks. A quiet, pitiful whimper escapes past wet, trembling lips.

For a moment, I freeze. My fingers curl tightly around the hem of Xiong's pants. I stare up into those big brown eyes of his, hoping and praying that, later, he will forgive me. I so desperately want to reach out to him, to caress his cheek, to comb my fingers through that luscious hair. I want to kiss him. Not in a hard, bruising way, no; I want to give him soft, chaste kisses. I want to take all his pain away.

But, I need to do this. I feel that I need to do this in an attempt to get rid of my dark thoughts and memories. I feel that, if I assault him, all this pain will go away. So, I tug his pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. I push him over so that he is laying on the ground. I position myself at his enlarged entrance. He's had sex before? Does that means he has a lover? Where is he? Is he dead? Or, was Xiong raped? Am I bringing back horrible, unwanted memories?

In one fluid motion, I push myself into Xiong. Instantly, I notice how tight he is, even with his enlarged entrance. I find myself being turned on even more, and I feel guilty when. I say that I like this. I like assaulting Xiong. To me, it feels good. It takes away the bad thoughts and memories. I need this, even if it hurts an innocent person in the process.

I open my eyes a sliver to see Xiong laying there in front of me. His face is paler than it was before. His eyes are closed tightly, and tears slip from those beautiful eyes of his. I so desperately want to reach out, to dry his tears, but I can't. Not now. I have to finish this. I have to have my release, even if it hurts Xiong in the process.

Finally, after a few long moments, I cry out as pleasure washes through every vein in my body. My white seed spills out into Xiong. His body trembles violently for one single moment before going still. I pull out of him, and a silent mewling cry escapes past his lips. I stand there for a moment, breathing heavily, basking in the sweet aftermath. Then, I move. I move to pick up my clothes. I kick Xiong softly in the leg as I pass him.

"Go clean up," I tell him. "You're filthy and you smell. Go clean up and get a different pair of clothes on."

Xiong's only reply is another low, mewling cry. His eyes are still closed, and his lips are still trembling. I can see his white teeth poking out, and I notice now that he is biting his lip, hard enough to draw blood. It trickles down his chin, and onto his shirt.

I silently curse myself. Why am I like this? Why do I hurt everything I care for? Why am I so abusive? I want to be Xiong's protector, not his abuser. I want to be the one to chase his demons away, not being them on. I want to dry his tears, not cause them.

Murmuring a curse under my breath, I curl one set of fingers into a tight fist. I turn away, and grab a beer from the chest. I flick it open and take a long, much needed gulp. I watch as Xiong finally pulls himself carefully up off the floor. His arms wobble a bit, but he finally manages to get into an awkward sitting position. His breaths come in heavy gasps. I barely hear it, but a soft, barely audible whisper breaks past his lips.

"Phong," Xiong chokes out. He hangs his head, letting his hair hide his face. His slender shoulders tremble.

His voice. God, his voice. It's so beautiful, so angelic. It sends shivers up my spine. Who is this Phong? I wonder. Is he Xiong's lover? Was he the one who marked him as his own? Was he the one to spill his seed inside Xiong? Sudden anger flashes through his veins. I already hate this Phong, even though I don't know him.

I'm so sorry, Xiong, I think. Ker. I never meant to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you, but both of us must realise that that can never happen. We're two very completely different people. I am filled with anger, while you are filled with hurt.

I drown my sorrows in another long gulp of beer. Knowing that I must get away from here - away from the sobbing Xiong - I grab my wallet and head out the door, leaving Xiong alone.