Page 32 of King of Liars

“If it’s too much for you, Boss, you may be excused,” King chimed in.

Jesus, I was fucking sweating over this, fighting back memories that tried to seize my attention. I’d spent the past few years chasing them back, and I could do the same in that moment.

Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths.

But it was a struggle.

This was too much. Way too much. I should have left. I should have walked the fuck out and had no part of this. But it wasn’t the first time my body resisted against what Ishouldhave been doing.

“Or you can just watch,” King added.

I could do that much, couldn’t I? He was clearly fine. Clearly wanted it, I reminded myself.

But it wasn’t right. And it wasn’t safe.

“I’ll stay,” I said, “For now.”

“After he uses the safe word, we’ll come,” Two added. “Well, everyone but One. Then if you have any piss in you—”

“What?” I took a breath. It was some sort of Brutalizing King 101 session. We were enacting on him the sort of hazing I’d half expected against me that first night I’d come over.

I took another breath as we surrounded King.

“On my three,” Two said. “One…two…three.”

Hole kicked King right in the hip, as though eager to be the first to hurt him.

Fortunately, we were all barefoot, which surely wouldn’t make the wounds that bad, but still.

Two kicked him in his sore ass next, and then One got him in the thigh.

It was evident they were picking places where they could keep from causing any serious injury to King.

Maybe that’s why he’d chosen us, because he knew, as much pain as we’d give him, we wouldn’t try to hurt him beyond repair.

King faced away from me but glanced over his shoulder, his gaze meeting mine as he continued taking kicks from the guys. “Please, Boss,” he whispered, desperation in his tone.

How could I find it in me to do this to him? How could I help them hurt him so much? And yet, how could I deprive him of something he seemed to need so desperately?

I gently kicked his back. Then again.

“Come on. I want your anger and hate, Boss,” King urged as the guys continued kicking him. “Give it all to me.”

I offered a more severe kick…and was transported back to high school. In those woods, as the guys surrounded me, kicking me around on the damp ground.

I struggled to my feet and pulled away from their grips, sure I escaped, yet a few yards farther, they got me again, dragging me to the ground.

“Saw the way you were going at Stevie. You like playing with guys, don’t you?”

“Take his pants off.”

“Yeah, just like that.”

“Pretty little faggot.”

The flash of anger in their expressions, the fury of their hate, kept me company as they pinned me down. Struggling in vain and crying out for help that didn’t come as they hurt me…and kept on hurting me.

I was nothing to them.

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