TRACK 1 – FEEL THE PAIN – DINOSAUR JR.

“I said a large double whip frap no classic. You fucking dumbass. God, you are such a retard.” Nick, the owner’s son jeered.

“Quit picking on Hiro, limp dick.” Tiffany called, coming out from the kitchen.

“I’ll get you later bitch tits.” Nick hissed, so low only I could hear then turned a wide innocent smile to Tiffany. “Come on Tiff, you know I’m just teasing the chunky little twat.”

“Ugh, I hate that word. Now, here’s your stupid chick drink. Get out of here before I tell your mom you were ogling me and touching yourself again.” Tiffany mocked, sticking her tongue out rudely to the big jock jerk.

Nick turned red and purple faced but held his tongue and stalked out of the coffee shop. I couldn’t help myself and chortled at Tiffany then Nick stopped in his tracks. Without saying a word, he stalked back over and grabbed his coffee then turned and stomped back out. He kicked the door open and then paused, sending me a look that promised I’d regret this moment then he left.

“Finally, that guy is such a douche. He thinks just because we hooked up one time that we’re an item.” Tiffany muttered.

“You guys hooked up?” I asked, in my squeaky yet also nasally voice.

“Awe, are you jealous Hiro? Yes, we hooked up a long time ago before I knew him. I mean Nick is a tool, but he is a good-looking tool. Anyway, how’s your love life? Any new women or men?” She asked, tossing me a wink to show she was kidding.

I still got embarrassed though, turned beat red, and choked on my own spit. In turn, this caused me to cough loudly and uncontrollably. To her credit Tiffany laughed more with me than at me and came over and patted me on the back. When I could finally breath semi-normally again, we both laughed and then got to the tasks of closing up the shop for the night. I watched the beautiful girl go to the back and sighed quietly, then went to the front door and turned the sign from open to closed.

I took a moment and leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the door frame and closed my eyes. I pictured Tiffany, her long dark hair with its blonde roots which looked totally awesome on her. Her creamy white skin and bright blue eyes which I wasn’t sure if they were contacts or not fit her perfectly. Even the black eyeliner and lipstick which normally looked dumb on goth chicks was somehow hot on her. Some girls looked beautiful no matter what they did and couldn’t hide it. Tiffany was one of those girls.

She dressed like a cross between a nineties punk rocker that went to a prep school and it worked. Today she was wearing a rough-cut plaid skirt with fishnet stockings and black Dock Martens. Her top was a ripped up white Lacoste polo which revealed her jet-black lace bra underneath and tone midriff. The way her panties peeked out from her slit skirt showed that it matched the top. I swallowed and shook my head then opened my eyes. One thing I was good at was my memory. As my man Ludacris would say, ‘from the tips of her manicured hands to her pedicured toes!’ I loved that guy.

I just happened to glance in between the door blinds and the outside. Outlined perfectly by the setting sun was Nick. The prick was standing across the street and staring daggers at the shop, at me. My mouth went dry and all thoughts of Tiffany and my fantasies went out of my mind replaced by nightmares of Nick pounding my face in. With my memory I could see it clearly because it had happened over a dozen different times in my life each to varying degrees of pain and physical damage.

My memory was what some would call photographic or eidetic. Neither was fully accurate because what I could do wasn’t really either of them. What I did was basically create a screen in my mind like a tv or computer monitor and then the scene would play out in my head exactly as it had happened in real life. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, talking about how Nick had kicked my ass a bunch of times.

The first time was my first day of kindergarten. That’s how long I had known the fucking asshole for. I had been minding my own business playing in the sandbox and had just built a three-story high sandcastle. It was a perfect rendition of my favorite cartoon at the time, He-Man’s Castle Grayskull. I was just putting the finishing touches on it when one of the girl kids in class saw my sand sculpture and called the rest of the class over to see it.

That was my first Nick meeting. All the kids were oohing and aahing and the prick fuck couldn’t stand anyone else getting any attention but him. He stomped right through the gathered kids and took one look at me and my castle then gave me an evil scowl that turned into a twisted grin. It was then that I knew that evil and monsters were real things.

Nick was the tender age of six when he first spit on me. He was held back a couple of years for being emotionally stunted. He turned and proceeded to leap up as high as his six-year old legs could carry him. He came down on my castle squealing in glee and wicked delight and continued to stomp all over my once beautiful creation.

A minute later the rest of the class joined the big bully and started pointing and laughing at me with him. This started my downfall from society and my eventual self-isolation. There were more of these events but the next one that really took it up a notch was during our fourth-grade year. I attended a Catholic school so all of us wore uniforms. But you could still tell the rich from the poor and it was by our shoes. I was poor and wore some knock off Nikes called Mikes. Yeah, I was that kid and I got made fun of a lot.

There was another girl that year, a transfer student from England, and all the guys were hot to trot for her. I was no different, so I chose to draw a picture for her. I had always been the artistic type. She had told us that her family had just come from Italy, Rome specifically so I drew a copy of the Sistine Chapel. I gave it to Evangeline, that was her name, during lunch break and at first it went just as I hoped it would have. She took it and exclaimed about how great it was and even gave me a hug.

Then Nick the dick prick showed up behind her and placed his giant paw on her shoulder. I watched in horror as Evangeline’s face turned from grateful to a snake’s hissing fanged maw. She shared a look with Nick, and both burst out guffawing as she tore the picture in pieces and threw it in the air. Then the jerk grabbed me by my pants as I stood paralyzed as the drawing I so lovingly made fell to the ground in pieces. He didn’t care and gave me my first and worst ever wedgie.

Somehow the rest of the class had gathered around as Nick pulled my tighty-whiteys up and into my butthole quickly followed by my taint, nuts, and penis. He jerked again and they all went up inside of me. At least, that’s what it felt like and once again my peers laughed, taunted, and ridiculed me with Nick the tiny limp dick asshole in the lead. I ran crying to my teacher but my fourth-grade teacher at the time was a harsh Catholic nun who just said to suck it up and that it builds character.

I sat in the bathroom the rest of the day nursing my bruised, somewhat bloody, and rubbed raw bottom area till the bell rang. Thus, ended that debacle as I continued on to the next step of my journey to complete aloneness.

The major event that really put the nail in my social coffin though was when I was in the sixth grade. It was about the time that boys are starting to think they are men. Well, Nick the prick and his cronies were no different. They always picked on me but that day they had been feeling a special type of nasty. Usually, Nick would follow me home from school with his little dick pricks behind him and they would jeer me and throw things at me. That day though, they took it further than they ever had before.

Maybe something happened with the jerk’s family that day or maybe he was just an evil piece of shit. Either way they followed me the same as usual, but instead of letting me go home they grabbed me and dragged me to a vacant lot in the last cul-de-sac of the neighborhood. This had been scary as fuck to me and made me realize that day was going to be different. They were taking me to their base, their lair if you will. The vacant lot was surrounded by dense trees and they obscured the view and muffled the sounds from said vacant lot. The surrounding houses couldn’t see or hear what they did in there.

Nick and his fuck wads had built a fort there and did their dirty deeds away from prying eyes and listening ears. I had never been here before Nick would never allow it so that made it even more terrifying. I started to struggle with all the strength I could muster. My arms were being held by Travis and Dave who were Nick’s left and right hands. They were redheaded twins and fit the stereotypes down to the shitty looking freckles on their pale soulless faces.

The twins were stronger than me and held my arms tightly so no matter how much I tried I couldn’t get free. It didn’t stop me from giving it the old college try though and I started to pull even harder as I saw my new surroundings. There were spray painted obscenities everywhere. They were on the trees and on ghoulish totems of dead and dissected animals that were planted all around the area. Holy fuck I had thought, these guys were even sicker than I imagined. Rabbits, squirrels, and even bigger animals like cats and dogs were all around in a horrible tableau of evil.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I recognized some as missing pets from around the neighborhood. Nick and his crew were even crazier than I previously thought. I felt the bile rise up in my throat and couldn’t help myself and vomited all over myself and my captors.

“Ewww, nasty!” Dave yelled.

“Fucking disgusting!” Travis screamed, almost in unison with his twin.

They both let go of me and I used the opportunity to turn and run as fast as I could away from the horror.

“Get him!” I heard Nick roar.

It was ok because I was almost free. I wasn’t the fastest kid in the neighborhood, but fear lent a special kind of strength and speed to me and I felt like I was flying across the ground. Only another dozen yards and I would be out and free of the sheltering trees. I was almost there and could see the road. I was going to make it. The boys were yelling behind me and I could hear them, but they were too far away to catch me.

A smile burst out across my face as I kept my limbs pumping away determined not to stop till I was safely inside my house with the door locked behind me. Never again would I leave. Never again would I let this happen. I promised this to myself. The promise one makes when they are sure they have just survived a life or death situation.

But my elation was short lived because a moment later the breath flew from my lungs and my side blossomed in pain. I had just enough clarity of mind to see Nick had caught up to me and had hit me with a flying tackle from my blindside. We flew through the air and then hit the ground, me first with the big fucker on top. I felt as if all of my ribs had been crushed. I was wrong at the time and only half of them had been broken I would later find out.

It was that moment as the pain became unbearable and my body chose to blackout, that Nick hissed something at me that I could just barely hear.

“That’s what you get you little faggot bitch.” Nick hissed.

That was the last thing I remembered.

THUD… THUD… THUD… THUD…

My mind awoke to meaty thud after meaty thud resonating throughout my being. I didn’t know where I was or what was going on. Just the thump after horrid thump. Flashes came to me of being dragged back to the center of their fort. Once I was there, they had taken turns kicking and punching me. That’s what the thumping sound had been, them hitting me. When they finally finished, I didn’t know. What I did know was that it was dark when I came to alone, bleeding, and broken of body. But not my mind or spirit.

They had taken me and thrown my unconscious body by the old quarry down by the lake. I imagined their intention was to make it look like I had fallen from the top of the quarry and that’s how I had ended up the way I was. Which was broken bones in my arms, legs, ribs, feet, hands, head, and basically everywhere. I was in horrible shape.

There are a couple different types of broken bones. Most of mine were hairline fractures not compound ones or worse. The human body is an amazing thing and the sadistic boys hadn’t been quite strong enough to shatter or really break me up. Lucky for me they didn’t use any tools or weapons.

Every movement hurt and it felt like I was getting cut with knives with each step. But I toughed it out and slowly stumbled my way home, only stopping every few dozen feet or so to catch another painful breath.

I still lived with my stepmom and stepsiblings at the time and my dad was gone out of town for work as usual. That’s why no one came to look for me and I didn’t go look for anyone else. My stepmom was out as usual when I finally made it home about an hour later. That’s how long it took my battered and exhausted body to make it four blocks. My stepsister was whoring out on the computer as usual, so she didn’t even notice me enter. The only thing I had left to worry about was my stepbrother.

Again, lucky for me he was N-word after N-word deep into Call of Duty, so he didn’t notice me either. He was the kind of white prick who shouted the N-word online because no one could see him. He also was a fucking piece of shit, so I guess they came hand in hand.

I made it to my closet of a room and curled up in the fetal position and immediately passed out. The first time I woke up was at least a day and half later because my stomach felt like the rest of my body. Having starved for days at a time I could tell the feeling. That became my pattern while I healed. I’d stay in my room all day and night then sneak out and grab whatever food I could while everyone was asleep or gone.

My grandma came over a couple weeks later after I had mostly recuperated, but she could tell something was wrong and took me to the doctor. My bones had already begun healing, some a little crooked. It cost way too much money to rebreak and reset the bones, so the doctor said I would just have to grow with them the way they were.

My grandma gave him a few choice words about his parentage then took me to her house where she made me my favorite meal. A plate heaping with fried chicken, mashed potatoes with country gravy, and fresh buttery corn on the cob was set before me. I wolfed it down and followed it up with three slices of homemade warm chocolate pie topped with whipped cream.

“Wow grandma that was great! Thanks for the meal but it’s not my birthday today why did you make it?” I asked, putting my napkin down and sitting back contentedly.

“It’s a special day Hiro. I think you should move in with me, tonight.” My grandma said.

I sat up and looked questioningly at her not sure I heard her quite right.

“Huh?” I asked.

“I said you should move in here today. You don’t need to go back to that horrible woman’s house again. I’ll tell your father and that’s the end of it.” My grandma stated.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I began to cry uncontrollably. I couldn’t help it. And that was that. I never went back to my old home. My grandma went back and told my stepmom and retrieved all my stuff. It wasn’t hard I only had a small suitcase worth of clothing and barely any personal items. This was the best time of my short life. Moving in with my grandma even with my newly deformed body was more than I could ever have asked for.

Before then my grandma had lived with my grandfather who was not actually my grandfather. He was my step grandfather not my biological one and he didn’t like me or my dad’s family at all. It was the main reason my grandmother let me know later on why she hadn’t taken me in earlier. But the old bastard had died when I had been injured and that’s why my grandma had come. The timing had just worked out that way.

The next six months were the happiest I had ever experienced, and my grandma and I had a blast. We converted the basement into my room. It was huge, the whole thing was as big as the house above, and it was all mine. I had my own kitchen, bathroom, shower, along with a huge loft style living area. My grandma had been an interior decorator in a previous life she had explained, and we made the place amazing.

We bought Japanese style partitions and sectioned off a living room area, dining room area, and bedroom area. Each one separated by the stylish dividers. We went secondhand shopping and bought a comfortable couch and love seat, coffee table, and entertainment center. She splurged on a TV, a gaming console, and a PC. My dead grandpa had left her Social Security and a pension. So, thanks for that I guess, you old coot.

We had superfast T1 internet installed and then my grandma decked out the kitchen and the bathroom the way only a lady can. After that, a few Amazon orders and anime wall scroll delivery’s later, and the Fortress of Solitude was complete. Yep, that is what I called it because I loved Superman and I don’t have to defend shit because he is awesome.

The season was a changing and school had ended for summer. I had missed the last few weeks due to being beat up, so my grandma had gone to my school and retrieved all the work I needed to do to finish the school year. Then she also arranged for me to do my schooling from home until I finished up junior high. The two of us spent that summer hanging out together and fixing up her house. My grandpa hadn’t been very mobile, and my grandma said she didn’t see the need to do it before I came. But now that I was here, she felt like she had a new lease on life.

I didn’t blame her I felt the same way. We scrubbed, hosed, scraped, painted, glued, swept, mopped, and every other damn thing there is for cleaning and renovating an old neglected house from 1940’s cold war era. Most homes built during this time had fallout shelters and that’s what my basement room was originally.

The house was actually built into a small hillock one of a certain type found all over Florida. There were thousands of them all around the state. People didn’t realize it, but they were actually old Native American burial mounds. They were just so old and built over that most people didn’t know. My grandma had told me the story. The original Pensacola Indians were from here and they still had their descendants in the area. These hills had magical powers she had always said.

I always thought she was teasing me until everything changed. Anyway, that’s for later on in the story. All things in their proper order as my granny would always say.

After the house was fixed up, we spent the rest of the summer playing games together. We played video games that I loved but she hated. Then we’d play card games that she loved but I hated. But since we loved and respected each other we each did it for the other balancing it all out. She also cooked everyday breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day. I had never eaten so good in my life.

I put on about twenty pounds that summer and I loved it. Bacon, sausage, homemade biscuits and gravy, scratch pancakes and waffles, and all the eggs I could eat for breakfast. Lunch was sandwiches made from leftovers whether it was meatloaf, roast beef, fried chicken, or whatever, with homemade bread. It was always delicious. Dinner was one of those always homecooked country meals unless we ordered out for pizza or Chinese because we both agreed they did it better than we could. There had been a few unsuccessful attempts before we finally admitted defeat.

It was the greatest time in my life and then it ended. My grandma had a stroke. One moment we were talking and laughing and then she stopped and turned as pale as a ghost. She grabbed her left arm and gave me a look that I’d never seen on her face before.

“Hiro, well shit I think I’m having a stoke.” She said, then fell back against the couch.

“Grandma!” I screamed, as I leaped up to grab my phone and call 911.

The next few days had been a blur. The ambulance came and rushed my grandma to the hospital. They let me ride along and I spent the night in the waiting room while they stabilized her. The next two days I was there while she remained unconscious. When she finally woke up on day three, she was paralyzed on the whole right side of her body.

They let me take her home then and I became her caretaker. She had some Medicaid money and some other rental income, but it wasn’t enough. So that’s when I got the part time job. I made just enough money to help pay the medical bills and the regular bills with me working. That was how the next few years went. My grandma’s condition worsened, and the medical bills began to get bigger and bigger.

I had hoped my dad would have come back to help us but that never happened. In fact, except for a few postcards from different countries around the world I didn’t hear shit from him.

That brought us to the now and my current situation. I shook my head and got it back to the present. Then turned from the door and began sweeping the coffee shop. Ten minutes later the bell chimed. I turned quickly surprised that the door had opened. I realized I forgot to lock it while I was musing and watched as Mailman Scott walked in carrying a small package.