Gun Culture Chapter 6 free porn video

"The bastard stands there, across the field," A voice said from behind. My horse twitched a little, but she was well trained. She was painted with the same blue paint as my own face had been adorned with, a symbol that she was as blessed as me by the gods. The blue does not rub from our faces and the solace does not erase easily from our hearts. It's the true meaning of blessed. I risk a glance backwards at my father, the leader of our army. He is watching me, arrayed spotlessly in all his white and brown furs. He cannot take the touch of the blue, for him it is all assured. He will not fight with us in body, but every man, woman and child will feel the breath of his strength in their bodies, embodied by the blue clay. I pat my nervous horses neck and my eyes stroll on over the face of the dark and noble lord Rynthak, the defective strand of the army camp. I persuaded my father on the night before to announce that he could share my bed for the night for his betrayal of the enemy because I'd thought I'd seen something new in his face, something dark and mysterious, but the sex had been bland and uneventful. He'd been furtive and no warrior at all. He couldn't know of course, but my guardian cousins who were close to him were ready to strike him down at the end of the battle when he was of little more use to us. My hair was greasy with the dirt of the road and I could feel the venom rising in my body as the transformation came. I turned back towards the field seeing the enemy dropping where they charged as our archers shot them down. It was all so easy and seamless. The foes were weak and timid and fearful and they fought like swallows, crushed under my fathers hammer. I pulled back on the reigns, and the horse rose up. I was on fire with the fury but I still held myself back. The horsemen were only waiting for my signal and they would follow me into battle. If I struck the right chord, they would ride with me anywhere. They all have the animal in them; I just have more of a share than they have. The enemy cross the golden beech, running right past it and I know that this is the point; this is the signal that my father has set for me. I release my pull and the horse drops down, scampering a little but my heels click and she pushes forwards down the narrow channel. Ahead, the horsemen see me coming and they ready themselves to follow, to take my line. I let loose a fierce laugh, bellowing it out and cowing the fearful men on the ground who are scared of my courage. The horsemen begin to spurn themselves forwards and I shoot out from between them, on towards the enemy. The archers would be loosing their last rounds now, the last of the enemy would fall moments before we hit them. The horsemen let out a roar, filling the field with fear as they amplify and emulate my battle cry. I hardly hear them but I feel the thunder of their hooves following behind me, carving up the dirt into rich dismembered chunks of sod. I draw the lance and I see the fear in the men ahead of me as they involuntarily draw back from my approach, the men behind them giving little quarter for fear in their surprise. The last of the arrows drops and my lance snaps away from my hand, running several of the packed enemy through it as my horse pelts straight into the men in front of her. Her wicked hooves claw for their skulls and even as men are falling back on their own ranks, crushed by the impact, the mare's hooves crush heads and break arms as they come down, tipping more men backwards onto the ground as her weight bears down on their bodies. I whip the double axe from my back and hack down, splitting a man's skull in one blow. I pull effortlessly and the rest of the men's horses hit the wall of men. Someone grabs for one of my legs, trying to pull me sidewards off the horse and my axe comes back down, severing his hand at the wrist. The man's scream penetrates the turmoil I have drawn around my soul and I feel the wave of pleasure ripping through me. Then I am through the thin shod group and even as my horse kicks back, spilling even more brains into the earth, I am turning her, not allowing the enemy even a quarter step back. We had decimated them and they had moved out of their own formation, their tactics were weak and they'd thought that numbers were what really counted. They were simple peasants. They weren't warriors like us. I yell again and draw my horse up, a fierce cry of rightful triumph coming out of me. It would not be long before they were all dead now. My men could do the work of hundreds, they were all champions and even though I was nothing but a girl, I was proud to command their utter respect. I felt the thump running through my horse then and I looked down to see a man holding the broken end of my own spear, the rest of it buried back in my animal. I sensed rather than realised that the horse was dead. I felt the looseness before she fell and I'm pretty sure in the seconds that followed that that impulse preserved my life. I rolled as we hit the ground and I avoided my own horse's whipping hooves. I leapt forwards, the axe flying, splitting the attacker's belly open as he raised his own sword, his battle rage all but gone, wasted on my horse rather than me. I twisted, stepping to the side and in the same movement; I struck his head from his shoulders. Even as I turned, another man was stepping forwards; I used the same movement and brought the axe down double handed to cleave his skull. His sword rose in the block, but the cheap steel shattered as my own blade broke through. I sliced through most of his face and he fell away. Someone was already running at me from behind the man and I hunkered down a little as he ran, meeting his eyes and seeing the rage in him burning like grey fire, his pupils drawn back like a cat's hackles. He carried a full sword and I would have him the second I could sidestep his lunge. A spear caught him in the side of the face and he fell sidewards as a rider of my own squad galloped by behind him, chasing down another man. I saw Gunthar then, striding forwards, his massive form fixed intently on me. He was seven feet tall and he carried an axe of bronze, his armour massive against his chest and legs. My eyes burned with the desire felt behind them, as I realised that he had joined the battle much quicker than my father had predicted. It had been expected for him to come down with the second wave of attacks, but instead he'd been hiding amongst the first. Gunthar was a warrior. The many men I had tortured personally and the others that my father had captured told of his deeds, that he could crush an enemy's skull with his hands. Even as I watched, one of my horsemen came forwards from the left at full charge. Gunthar did little more than whip the long body shield from his back, sinking the spiked base of it into the earth. The lance skittered down it's curved side and the horse and ride struck the metal with a fierce clang of metal. Guntar batted forwards with the shield in the moment after he absorbed the impact and horse and rider were knocked away and separated by the blow. Gunthar's strength was legendary and I hadn't believed half of what I heard before but I did now. If I took him alive, I would break him and bend him to my cause. He would join me and he would not be the first who had done so under those circumstances either. The neighbouring tribes, which had fought our tribe for centuries, were now our closest allies. I had personally broken in the leader of the Kylek. Gunthar would be a challenge but they all were. I grinned, pleased as he refocused on me. "One of us is going to hell, bitch." Gunthar spoke as he advanced on me but I paid little heed to his words, I knew I was in for a fight now. His armour would be strong, as strong as his shield and his weapon, so there would be few chinks available there. There were his hands and his head, his head would be for a kill, his right hand gripped his axe, so my target had to be his left hand, which held the shield. To get it, I'd have to be behind him, or between the shield and his body. This was going to be difficult. Gunthar's blade spun through the air and I ducked, feeling the weight of it passing over my head like a shade for the sun. I used my position to effect and bounded forwards in the wake of his swing as he tried to check the momentum there. My foot landed on the shaft of his weapon and I jumped up at his head. I don't know how it got there but his shield was moving in front of me and I reached forwards, touching the lip of it and swinging over it, landing heavily against Gunthar's back. My axe artfully cleaved a long line in his scalp as it moved with me in the lazy arc over his head. As my balance reaffixed, my foot braced against his back I let the axe score down the armour of his back, sparks flying out ripping chunks of the metal which was of weaker quality than I had first supposed. I kick-leapt backwards away from the man who had the ire of my father and landed easily on my feet. The whole motion had been one long movement for me and I laughed, watching the blood running down the back of Gunthar's head, the wound a taunt rather than a serious blow. In the corner of my eye, I saw the first golden flag falling from its position in the enemy army; the swordsmen had struck and caught the archers off guard. They would be racing through their ranks now, cutting into the back of the second wave of fighting men. Instinctively, I knew that the battle was already half won. "Yield to me Gunthar and I may let you live." I said, as Gunthar's head turned back to face me. His eyes were furious now and blood was running down the side of his nose and the edge of his face. "So you may sucker my soul, witch?" He spat. Being a witch was something I never saw any reason to discourage. Everyone who knew anything about me knew that I wasn't that though. I touched the edge of my own axe, putting a finger into the blood and touching it to my own tongue. It was still warm from his body. "I have the measure of you now." I said, somewhat truthfully as he started back towards me. Big men are always so slow, for every part of them that are powerful and terrifying. My body burned even more for him. His hands would be on my naked thighs this very night, we would meet in sex just as we had in battle and I would conquer him there too. He hefted his axe to his shoulder now and swung down towards my head. I stepped easily to the side, dodging, though I felt the wind rushing and as the axe buried itself in the earth I saw his hand unflex from the handle and I ducked just before his arm shot out in a fierce backhander where my face had just been. I stepped to him, knowing that this was my chance now. I was inside the wall of his shield and though there was little space but an inch or two, I drove the axe into his gloved hand, seeing fresh blood flowing over the blade as it buried itself in his palm. But it didn't go through and I hesitated, stunned. My blade had always done exactly what I had wanted of it before, now it had stuck and I was literally stunned. It was too late then. I felt the huge arm closing around me, the shield blocking my escape now. He gripped fiercely and I screamed out, trapped in a closing net of Gunthar's armour. He squeezed and I felt fierce and unsettling pain rocketing up the right side of my torso. It was pain beyond pain as he crushed me, and I knew that I had come to the end of my life now. I wasn't afraid. I felt something giving inside of me and I knew I was mortally wounded. My arms were trapped, my whole body lifted a little as Gunthar solidified his position over me. I heard his laughter. Agony flared in my mind and I let out another scream of pain, and then Gunthar's hold over me relaxed and I felt the strength falling out of him. The breath in my throat burned my chest as his hand fell away from my back and we both fell headlong on the grass. I lay where I was, unable to move, my whole body trying to breathe even though it hurt, it burned like crazy and it was far inside my shield, I couldn't even block out the pain. "Princess!!" Someone shouted, scooping me up off the ground. I screamed even more as my body twisted around, the pain inside me not liking the movement at all. Strong arms ran with me and I felt little of the movement, just of that burning hot pain in my right side. In a moment, it was later and I was leaning hard on the long stick that the doctors had provided for me. The pain was still there, but it was quieter, tempered bearably by the drugs they had fed me. I looked on as my father pronounced the sentence on Gunthar who blazed, even though he was on his knees. He would be made to swallow boiling lead, in testament for the fierce injury he had inflicted on me. My own lung, my father said, to be worth the two hundred of the dead army. I smiled as Gunthar began to scream, his cheeks burning in a burst of red. It would have been just as painful for him had I had my way with him. I opened my eyes, the dream fading instantly into my memory. My room in Darren's house was lit by the light of morning, and a long beam of light played casually with the motes in the air. I blinked my eyes a couple of times, clearing away the sleep and I thought about the dream I had just had. It had to be another of the same kind as that Roman girl. I wondered for a moment about what those dreams represented. Were they real or were they just dreams. It was hard to be sure and Hellcat seemed curiously quiet on the subject. I lay where I was for a moment and then I turned onto my back, looking up at the ceiling. I remembered the visit to the hospital the night before and about Janus... I mean, about Jane. I frowned, as I didn't know exactly who he/she was now. I felt confused because I remembered him, but I knew her too. She had bought me the gun, and she had done all that I remembered of her, but somehow she felt like a stranger to me now. It was hard and I knew that the lie was completely and the whole of Janus, but Jane... somehow Jane's side of it all seemed to have been... well... overwritten. And what about me? What did I remember of myself? I remembered being Angelo that was certain. But I remembered next to nothing about being a girl. It had all come so quickly and so completely that I'd never stopped to really question it. There was little in my reasons for wanting the transformation that was sexual in its originality, but it was everything to do with what I thought deep in my soul. Actually, maybe that was incorrect because I fantasised about sex from the girl's point of view. I wrote lots of stories about that, but the sex wasn't the object of the story, it wasn't about the content, it was about the contentment that the girls in my stories feel about themselves and about their surroundings. They were free of my dishonesties, and unhampered by obstacles that hindered myself on a daily basis, their lives were full and pure and easy, so luxuriously easy. Had I become all of that? I suppose, although I didn't really feel as good as I had hoped I would feel. I still had the stutter and my life was just complicated in different ways now. Hank, who before had been a very close friend, now had designs on my love life. Everyone was treating me kinder and without resentment now, it was so unreal that it was almost magical, but it was all too real too. There were bigger monsters out there than they had been before, and they were playing for more than they had been willing to take in my boyhood. So overall, I guess my life wasn't any less complicated or difficult; it was just that the reasons had all changed. I let one hand crawl up my side under the thin t-shirt. I let it rest on the side of my breast, feeling the softness both on my side and on my chest. It was all so strange and real too. I could feel the bulk of my breast in my hand and my mind could so easily trace out the skin, unhampered by the sheets or by the clothing. I could picture and I could feel in my mind the whole of my entire body where it lay. I still resonated with enough of my previous self to find my own form unbelievably sexy, but there was remoteness in that because the part of me that had always wanted the change had come forwards into the light of reason and she was playing in that game surprisingly well. To her, to that part of me, my body was just me. It was smaller and shapelier but this person, this small girl, was me. Was this what I wanted? I guess after everything, I didn't know. I didn't want to lose anything, but I sensed that I just might end up losing something anyway. That was what scared me I guess. I didn't want to forget about being Angelo, and about being a guy because I liked that there were guy pleasures too, things that would be unavailable to me now, and I'm not just talking about physical differences. The guys wouldn't show me a dirty magazine now and laugh together about it, or maybe just even speculate. I guess in that way, a part of me was already gone. I thought about Becky Tyler, one of the cheerleaders who I thought about whenever I was alone and with ulterior intentions. A couple of stories were about her, about how I'd somehow possess her and go on a sex marathon, going insane in the process I guess, but passion of the type I set into the paper was often boundless and any perspective of infinity is similarly damning viewed in it's entirety. Becky still looked sexy to my mind's eye. I thought about the clothes just sliding off her and I felt a quiet chill running down my spine, kindling a kind of fire of warmth. I thought about tearing the clothes from her body and roughly taking her, but I realised that it wasn't Angelo who I was in the dream, but an altered Angelina. It was almost enough to give you a headache. My tit was sexy, I still recognised that, and there was sensuality in my skin, but it was all with a touch of dispassion. I tried a different tactic instead. I let my hand move down, over my soft belly, venturing into the shorts I was wearing; instead I lost my nerve and let my hand roll over the fabric. There was the emptiness there. That was the first thing that really came home to me, nothing unexpected about it though. I hadn't really expected anything to be there. The panties I was wearing though; they hugged my body and I could feel their fabric under the softness of the shorts. They were blue, I remembered. I had put them on the night before. I let my hand rest where it was, just enjoying the touch of it being where it was. I didn't need to do anything more just yet, I could take this as fast as I wanted to and I knew that in myself I wasn't ready yet to take the next step. The loss was still raw in me, even though I had wanted it, the change had brought me more than I expected including the uneasiness. It was difficult to think around that because there was too much going on in my mind. I had flashes of every one of the stories I had written, imagining myself just like I was now, in this position in life and time and now that it was here, I guess I was scared because I didn't want to find out that the moments to come could not live up to the moments I had visualised in my mind. It was strange and entirely sentimental, but I knew that I couldn't do this, not right now anyway. I pulled my hand back, looking up at the well-lit ceiling, berating myself for my own cowardice. I knew the only way to beat a fear was to annihilate it, but I couldn't do this, not yet anyway. I would do it though; I would do it eventually. I pushed myself up, feeling a modicum of contentment as the movement shifted my chest. I threw back the covers and like I had always imagined, as though the dream had followed me into the waking moments and beyond them, I smiled as I saw my own thin legs swinging around to the edge of the bed. Despite everything else, I guess I could thank Hellcat for that. I let a hand trace lightly over my leg, enjoying the feel of the smoothness. I wondered if I would ever get used to it. I hoped not though. Quite suddenly I remembered Jane. She was in the hospital now, and I guess I'd had more than a small part in what had put her there. She'd recover now though, now that she had her own memories back in place again, the distress would leave her. Hellcat had even tried to tell me about Jane when she'd still been Janus, I remembered my own conviction that Janus was just mirroring me in my wish to be a girl, and that it wouldn't suit him at all. It had been the most frightening of everything that happened last night, except perhaps for that moment on the phone when Hank had called me. It had all changed very quickly, and so many times that I wasn't even sure that I had understood everything that had happened yesterday. I worried that perhaps I wasn't out of this so called causality interference yet, that it might not end for a while, or even more worrying, what if it didn't end until Hellcat had Amie in her grasp as well as Jane and me. What if it didn't end until she had the whole group caught up in her fingers? Leon knew about her now. He probably hadn't understood much and Amie had had a hand in distracting him last night too, but he'd have asked the questions he needed to ask of her and pretty soon he was going to come back to me in order to meet Hellcat for real. I hoped the two of them had made up, although I guess it was pretty much guaranteed in the night that must've followed their departure from Darren's house. I pushed myself up onto my legs, stretching and feeling my body creaking satisfyingly. Normally when I stayed at Darren's, I took a morning swim by way of exercise, but this morning, I didn't really feel up to it. I stepped up to the wardrobe, remembering a few years previously how Darren had dragged me to some clothes stores in order to fill up the wardrobe in what he had took to calling my room, although my bedroom was next door really. In everything, Darren had insisted that his house was as much mine as next door was. I pulled open the white-slatted, folding doors and looked at the ranks of clothes hung there. Whatever else might have changed about me, it was clear that some of my taste in clothes had remained the same. There were girl's combats, jeans and shorts arrayed there, along with a wide selection of t-shirts, and other loose clothing. I suppose the selection was a lot bigger than it had been, but the quality of the clothes remained pretty much the same. At the end of the row I discovered a couple of one-piece dresses of plain colours, but I knew that there'd probably never been a time when they were worn. I pulled a plain grey t-shirt from the rack, holding it in my hand as I selected a pair of combat trousers to wear with it. I pulled an odd pair from the rack that I hadn't seen before, they were black with white splotches, which were a strange combination for this type of clothing, but I liked the match. I dressed quickly, changing my underwear too and feeling again that strange feeling of direct unreality that seemed to have followed me up out of my dreams. Everything came with unfamiliar ease as I dressed and I realised that whatever shortfalls in my masculine upbringing were presenting, were being silenced by Hellcat's feminine instincts. It felt strange to realise that I'd just done what might have taken other people weeks or days to learn properly, and I'd done it all while still thinking about Jane and Amie and myself. I closed the wardrobe and stepped up in front of the mirror to the side of it that hung on the wall. I let my eyes drop down over myself critically, looking for faults, but I didn't see any. I looked completely natural. I felt a little sad about that, even, although I wasn't at first sure why it was. But then I realised it was because there were no traces of Angelo in that mirror now, nothing but his eyes anyway. Everything that was Angelo had been rubbed out of existence and this form had been pencilled in over the insignificant marks that remained of him on the paper. He'd gone and he'd taken with him all the sentiments of the people whom I had spoken with during my lifetime. It was strange but at that moment I wondered who I was to have allowed that to happen. Sure, I had wanted to be a girl a long time before I met Hellcat, but wasn't it wrong to have that longing fulfilled and then to not care about whom I had been before? I wasn't sure, but I guess it did feel wrong. I felt like I had somehow cheated everyone I knew. My own mum had said that there was more boy in me than girl. She had been so right. And it wasn't like I really wanted very much of a change to happen. I was still the combat wearing type, even if I was a Goth chick now. I'd been a little gothic before even. It wasn't like I wanted to be Tiggy and whore myself to the whole football team like she does. I didn't want to be the brainless flower picker type either. At the moment, I didn't know what I wanted and that wasn't really the best option. I remembered the question the girls had put to me the night before last. What type of girl was I to be? The truth was that I wasn't sure now. I didn't even know if I wanted to be a girl after I'd seen Jane in the hospital. If my acceptance of this, caused things like that to happen to the people I loved then I didn't want it. It was too high a price. But on the other hand, I mused as I stepped out into the corridor, I could be making a big deal out of very little. I know that Jane had gone through what she had because of me, but it didn't mean that it was a trend. I sighed as I started down the stairs towards the ground floor. The old problems were still there just as I had supposed but they'd been redressed and altered so that in the end their importance to my life was the same and I had escaped little. I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned, stopping dead when I saw my mother and Darren sitting at the kitchen table. "Morning Angel." Darren said, and mum turned, rising up out of her chair. I watched her cautiously, feeling shocked because I hadn't expected to see her here. It wasn't that I didn't want her here, it was that I was just starting to put yesterday behind me and I knew that she'd want me to go over it again. Some of the feeling must've shown on my face because my mum came forwards, pulling me into a hug and I let her. "I'm s-s-sorry mum." I said, though I wasn't exactly sure what I was apologising for. I guess it was for what had happened with Tiggy. I suppose it was also the fact that I had trusted my brother more than I had her when it had come to refuge after the incident with Jane's brother. "I'm sorry too Angelina." Mum said carefully, though I could tell she was near crying. "I should have brought you home after that fight." Mum pulled back, still with her arm around me as she led me forwards towards the table. Amie opened her eyes, letting the smile of contentment touch her even before the light of the world registered in her eyes. She felt good this morning and as the memories of the night before came back to her she felt nothing but a kind of ecstatic pleasure running through her in the wake of it. The ceiling was Leon's, and she could feel the weight of his head on her shoulder, one arm over her body. She could feel him breathing and she smiled to herself. It had been a good night, and she had been glad of the chance to see how things were from the male side of things, though she'd known all along that it wasn't something that she would be happy with outside of Leon's company. It wasn't an experience she'd have wanted on a permanent basis. Amie wondered briefly if that was how Red felt about the whole change she had gone through, but she decided she didn't know enough about that. Amie took in a long breath, suppressing the yawn and she felt Leon's head shifting on her. She glanced down and saw him rising up onto his elbow beside her. The smile was automatic and she gave into it, happy that there was little distance between them again. There had been a mistake, but it was over now. She only wanted him. "That was..." Leon paused. "...interesting." He added finally, but his smile barely registered on his face. Amie reached up to him and he didn't protest against her as her hand found his neck. "Yeah." Amie agreed, knowing that this was when things became serious between them again. There hadn't been time for the discussion earlier, now, there had to be all the time in the world for it. It was the beginning of the holidays. "Is this the first time that spirit has done something like this to you guys?" Leon asked. "It's all been pretty weird since we came back from the market." Amie said, loving the feel of his skin against her hand. She pushed herself closer to him and felt his body close against the whole of her side. Leon kissed her cheek, but she knew that he wasn't going to give in just like that, not now. "I'm really confused about Red." Leon said quickly. "I really can't think of her as... as a guy." "Really?" Amie asked, mildly amused. "Do girls usually head butt other girls?" "No." Leon said uneasily. "But I don't really think that's outlandish behaviour for Red." Amie felt a little angry with herself then. Why was her boyfriend thinking about Red? This was their time. Amie knew it was a selfish way to act, but she couldn't help it. She needed Leon, because of her own guilt of what had happened between her and Jane. What they'd done wasn't exactly wrong, but it had a different kind of rightness that ran in opposition to what she had emotionally with Leon. It was almost like being a little dirty, and she needed to cleanse those few moments away with her intimacy with Leon. He wanted to talk to her though, that much was obvious. She couldn't coax it out of him, but she didn't want him thinking about Red right now. She wanted his whole attention and she needed it. She was going to have to take the initiative. Amie pushed herself up onto her elbow too, and shifted forwards, pressing against Leon's body so that he turned on the bed beneath her. Her lower body found him again and she pushed down onto him. It was so easy, and it came with greasy suddenness. Jamie let the emotion pass as he looked at the target in the sight of his gun. The white and black target waited expectant of his shot and Jamie paused, letting the moments pass. He savoured the shot that was to come and he taunted himself with its strength and feeling in expectation. When he pulled the trigger, he was focused. The bang of the shot was loud in the mine but they all wore ear protection whenever they were firing off more than single shots, and the sound was muted, but the feeling inside was not. The triumph in him was still as loud and as euphoric as it had been that first day when he had conquered himself. It hadn't been anything when set alongside the trials of Red, or perhaps even poor Jane, or Amie, but it certainly was as meaningful to him as their own triumphs were. In its own way that spoke more of his own shallower depth of feeling than his friends even though they were in fact equal. Girls always felt much more than guys, or they had better connections with that hurt and pain and joy. He'd read that somewhere, and he believed it. His own demons were those of his father. John Harvey Bannen. JHB. Jamie hadn't known JHB during his life. The bastard had left early on after bedding his mother's sister and then leaving town in a hurry as his uncle's gave chase for a way. The whole thing had torn the family apart, although in recent years things had been moving back together as his mother missed her sister more and more and his aunt grew more and more aware that she was missing Jamie's upbringing. That was good, but it made for a tense home life when it became obvious how the two women were skirting around the issue. It had alienated Jamie from his family early on because he just didn't feel those early connections forming with anyone other than his mother. The atmosphere had always been forced and because of that, all the friendships between him and his mother and the rest of the family had seemed baseless and pretence. That was one of the reasons he was always so outgoing, he supposed. The gang had been different though, this club was something outside of all of those feelings of trust and resentment that he had at home. But he was aware, even now, that some of the old feeling had crept back into this place. It wasn't to do with the guys, they were all good people, and if he was honest, he felt more of a connection with Hank and with Leon than he did with his own mother. He'd thought in the beginning that the entire club was about his revenge, about learning to shoot and to find JHB and remove him from this earth. He would still like to do that, obviously, but there was little hurry for it any more. Jamie knew that a few more years would not hurt, while he watched the rest of the guys growing up a little more. He'd like to see Red and especially Leon going off to college. It would be the final part of their own trials, and would signify the point at which they really did become real, whole people in the eyes of the world. He could spare a few years, even though he knew that at the end of his own journey, the best he might hope for was a lethal injection. He had come to terms with that a long time ago, and he knew he covered the fact well. There was no reason for the rest of the gang to know or to worry. The black head drooped a little in the gun's sights and Jamie squeezed the trigger again, another hole appearing in the sheet. But Jane... Jane had been an oddity in Jamie's book. She had been a drugged up anorexic when she'd appeared. She'd had the same reputation around school and was perhaps only a few days away from special attention by the authorities when she'd come with Amy to that meeting. J.J. had been friendless before that, he remembered, always looking for Tony McPheron, looking for the drugs that he sold her and turning a blind eye to whatever tolls he demanded of her. Jamie had little doubt of what McPheron had put the girl through. He was a nasty piece of work and a fierce enough character. But he was more than willing to take advantage of Jane so that they got what they wanted out of each other. She had been at her lowest ebb then, or until now it had always seemed that way. So why had she tried to kill herself? It just didn't make any kind of sense. She had come on from that day, dragging herself back to normality. You could still see the hollowness in her eyes of the toll that journey had exacted on her, but she had come through it and up until recently, Jamie would have been confident in saying that she was blazing with her own triumph. He'd give it another hour, he decided and then he'd use some of his pocket money to take the bus across town. Red's message last night had given all of them the details of where Jane was along with the assurances that she was all right. That had been comforting at least. Jamie paused, the moment for the next shot passing as he thought distractedly. Something had just occurred to him, something that he hadn't even really thought about before. Perhaps the time might have come for him to tell someone about his father, about his reason for being at the club. The silence of the secret had a heavy weight to him, he knew that much, but maybe if he shared the weight of that secret he could help Jane come to terms with whatever it was that she was in agony over. He mused for a while over the benefits of such a plan, but the more that he thought about it, the more sense it made to him. He wouldn't rush into it though. He didn't want to reveal himself and then find out that none of the others could understand his motives. It was not something that Hank and his father would understand at all, given the family profession. No, it would be best to think about this and to plan for it. He would go and see Jane though. I had expected that the hardest part about the meeting would be trying to convince my mother that I didn't want to bring charges to bear on Kirk for his actions against me. This sentiment on my part was not due to any measure of Kirk, but rather on the fact that I knew Jane's mother would be under a lot of pressure at the moment and I didn't want to antagonise their family atmosphere any more than was already happening. J.J. had tried to kill herself and I knew how it felt to be in that position. It was one of the reasons why I saw worry in my mother's eyes every day when she looked at me. She was always watching me, trying to catch any moment of my thoughts, trying to spot one of the darker ones that might lead me towards that end again. I wasn't proud that I'd made her look at me that way, but I recognise that in the end it had brought me to the club. I knew all too well what J.J. was going through right now as she pulled herself back up out of the pit. It didn't matter that she'd known she hadn't been in her right mind when she'd tried to do it, the feelings would still be there and still be raw to her. Whatever it had been to make her do that, and I could only think that it was something to do with Kirk's actions earlier in the day, she would still be feeling it, but she would realise now how foolish she had been, just like I had. They told me afterwards that most of the time, only people who really want to die can succeed in killing themselves. It's nothing to do with weakness or fortitude, it's not usually a considered decision to do it, it's usually just a short term decision and because of that, if you have any shred in you that feels somehow that suicide is not the best option, then you have a large chance at failing in your resolve. When that happens to you, you change inside. It's just natural for it to happen. Some people tell themselves that it's because god doesn't want them to die, but I'm not that obtuse and I recognise that it's because I knew I wasn't ready to die yet. Right now, that's where J.J. would be, she would be figuring this out herself in her own words and I knew I had to see her again today. I had to remind her that I knew those same feelings. I didn't want all the complication of a trial on top of all of that, but when I had confessed that much, mum actually looked a little relieved. I remembered that J.J.'s mother had called my own mum by her first name, and I realised that the two families were closer now for reasons I didn't yet know. I had to see J.J. though, I had to go back and talk to her. The realisation had come to me the night before that the danger was past for Jane. I hadn't understood why it had been so because I'd been so tired, but some deeper part of me had known that Jane was out of danger through my own experiences with suiside. The first time I had tried, I had been seven, I had been sick of the tormenting, I had been utterly sick of everyone calling me Red, which at that time seemed a hurtful and jeering name, and I had taken a half bottle of mum's sleeping tablets. I had intended to eat the lot of them but I hadn't particularly liked the taste of them and I ended up pacing myself through them, slipping down much more slowly than I had intended and with a longer and more manageable toxin curve in my blood. I had been asleep when mum found me, and I had been alive when they pumped my stomach in the hospital. The second time, I was ten. There was a kid much worse than the others who fastened onto me as a target like he recognised a rare and extremely satisfying punter. He had a long bladed knife, I remember and he'd threaten but not actually use it on me. It was all in the intention for him and I have always hated knives since. He'd stalk me in and out of school, following me around, watching me, knowing that I hated him, that I feared him. I think he thrived on that most of all. It got so that I was jumping at shadows, seeing his face in them, watching him watching me from down the street, always with his hands in his pocket, holding that knife. When I saw him in the mirror one morning, I struck out. It was natural and impulsive and I remembered the blood falling down over the sink from my bleeding knuckles. I remembered my father's voice saying my name on the other side of the bathroom door. I remembered the smeared shard as I lifted it from the sink, seeing my own face in it once again, taking that as a sign of comfort that what I had thought was a real and worthy decision. I wailed a little as I drew the mirror's blade across my wrist and dad broke down the bathroom door before I could finish the job properly. There was therapy after that, lots of it and by the time I escaped from it and returned to school, Greg had been expelled for unrelated matters and his family had moved to a different state. I won't say that it was the right thing to do, but I recognise that I matured because of what I tried to do. Decisions always leave the good in the end, no matter what happens, everything is always turned to the good eventually. That was one of the reasons I wanted to see Jane today, to tell her about that, but I didn't want to have to take my turn with the others. I couldn't rush what I needed to tell her, but I would tell her today at some point. Darren gave me mug after mug of cocoa as the story came out. I tried to stay away from the aspects of Hellcat's interference and kind of hoped that if I made it sound as if the showers at the school were unisex, I would have fewer awkward questions about that part of yesterday, though to my relief everything was accepted by my mother and my brother. I knew that I wasn't exactly lying to them either, but I did feel bad about having to almost-lie to Darren. I don't think he could have understood Hellcat, nor her intervention in my life, and I knew that the admission of her would only serve to poke at their worries rather than their relief. It took nearly an hour for me to tell everything, including the fight earlier which mum pressed me for details of. In the time before yesterday, mum had always been a fairly formal, if compassionate mother to me. She insisted on set meal times and even was likely to throw strong words at Darren when he was late for the Sunday dinners we always shared together. I had grown up with this, which I suppose Darren must have too, but the one time I was late getting back from the mines, she made sure that I regretted it. What struck me the most though was that when I was unrolling the abridged story for the two of them, mum looked kind of proud of me. "You've always been a rebel, Angel." She told me, when she noticed my puzzlement and guessed it's reason. "I'm not angry, but I think that you're smart enough to know the difference between brutishness and cunning." "Yes, but you don't want to get a reputation for fighting in that kind of manner Angel." My brother said quickly, glancing at mum. "I kn-n-n-n-now." I replied, knowing all too well that that was not what I wanted for myself either. If I became the kind of person who used violence to solve problems then there was going to be no rest but violence for the rest of my life. People would be violent back towards me and force me to emulate their behaviour as well. It would be a downward spiral. I felt a little ashamed about what I had let be done to Tiggy by Hellcat, but I recognised that I was not blameless either because Tiggy had deserved what had happened. Finally, mum rose, brushing the front of her suit and said her goodbyes, taking Darren and me into a hug and telling me to text her if I needed to. Mum was nearly at the door when someone on the other side knocked. I glanced up as she opened the door and we all saw Teloni standing there, hands in his pockets, in a green t-shirt and brown pants that were a size too large for him. Teloni blinked when he faced my mother, but that was excusable. Mum was often a little haughty when she was dealing with outsiders; it was a part of her upbringing in Britain that she said she'd never lost. "Yes?" "Erm... I'm here to... I mean... Is Red in?" Teloni asked, then his eyes found us at the table. "Come on in Teloni." My brother called rising. Teloni stepped inside, stepping to the side so he wasn't in my mother's way. Mum just held the door open for a moment but then she said, "You're the new student then?" "Yes ma'am." Teloni said dutifully. "We heard about what you did for Angelina yesterday." Mum said. "You were very brave." "Thank you." Teloni said. "No, thank you." Mum replied, and then she glanced back at me. "I'll see you later Angel." Then she was gone, closing the door behind her. I breathed out, just a little and I gestured Teloni forwards quickly. I was glad mum hadn't taken an instant dislike to him. He came forwards and I think he was a little relieved when he saw that I was pleased to see him. "Can I get you something to drink Teloni?" "Erm, no thanks... er..." "Darren." My brother said with a smile. "Darren, yeah..." "Y-y-y-ya ok?" I asked, wondering that he seemed a little distracted. "Umm, yeah." Teloni said, but I saw he was still a little nervous. I glanced up at my brother's back, realising that it might be Darren that was making him nervous. "S-s-so, w-w-w-what's up?" I asked, sipping again at the cocoa although I'd already had enough of it. "Not much." Teloni said, again looking more than a little nervous. "It's just... I..." He scratched the back of his head. "I wondered if you wanted to hang out or something?" Up to that moment, I hadn't really had much of a plan for the day, I had thought a little bit about getting my laptop and going to sit in building 8. There's an upper floor to that building and you can see across most of the compound from up there. I like sitting up there and writing my stories, it's a nice atmosphere. Hanging out with Teloni though, that sounded like a suitable alternative. I smiled at him and nodded. "Y-y-y-yeah, that'd be cool." Teloni thought about the day before as Red walked next to him. He knew that by and large he'd still rather be back in Georgetown, heading off to the new school with Mark. Sometimes it's hard to forget that you've been friends for so long, even after Mark had tried to pin that fire on him. Teloni still felt a little bitter about that, but Mark was Mark and the only real surprise was that Teloni hadn't really realised how much difference there was between his "best" friend and himself. He supposed he still liked hanging around with Mark, mostly because Mark usually knew what to say, or how to make Teloni feel better about life, or the local events that consistently tried to oppress the two of them. He wanted to tell Mark about Red, about this new girl who was more of a mystery to him than pretty much anything he had discovered up to now. But that was just an empty gesture. Mark hadn't replied to the text Teloni had sent after the fire though. Maybe that was for the best. He wondered for a moment what Mark would have thought of Red, but then he remembered Gregory Doors and Teloni blushed a little with embarrassment. Even at the time, Teloni had been a little ashamed about that incident. It was hard when you were in the middle of things, but it was gradually dawning on Teloni that he had been stupid and very immature back home and it was no longer right that he should think of it all as being Mark. He'd thought so for a while, but he'd never exactly said no to Mark either. He'd never tried to curb his friend's activities, except in the case of Greg Doors of course, and even then he hadn't done much. Were these regrets? He wondered. Red gestured through the fence across Teloni and he turned to see a large complex of buildings. They were blackened with age and the brickwork was covered with signs of graffiti in faded colours. All of the windows seemed to have been broken and as Teloni's eyes fixed on one of the upper windows, he saw a grey rag drifting a little in the breeze. It had probably been a curtain of some kind. "T-t-the m-m-mine." Red supplied, and Teloni saw the tracks then, half hidden in the dust. There were thin rails there in the midst of the tumbleweeds and the tufts of growing weeds, which seemed to be slowly colonising the place. Red hitched up the black bag she was carrying and Teloni's eyes, which had been paying her a lot of his attention up to this point, noted that it must be heavy whatever was inside it. He wondered for a moment if he should offer to carry it but decided against it. Red might not like that. She struck Teloni as being a deeply personal type of person, someone with definite boundaries of character and who might take an immoderate sense of wounded dignity if those boundaries were crossed, even if it were inadvertently. He really didn't want to put her off him, not now. He just wanted to watch and learn more about her. Maybe a little of it was that he'd never really had a girlfriend before, or perhaps it was that the girls he had known, he had known for so long that they never really appealed in the same way. Maybe the mystery of Red was a mystery because he hadn't been around her long enough to see that mystery forming. She had let him kiss her though, and she'd been eager at that moment down in her brother's basement. Considering the amount of protection the girl had around her, Teloni should have been more worried about being discovered in that position with her. He felt certain that Hank wouldn't have understood for one. "We're going in there?" Teloni asked, and Red nodded. They approached the entrance and Teloni saw the long drooping chain, which had been stretched where once there must've been a long red and white barrier, which would have been raised for entering and leaving vehicles. Red lifted one of her silky legs, stepping over the chain and Teloni's attention was caught for a moment as he saw the curve behind the shin of her leg. He felt a definite stirring and he fought off the thought quickly. It would not be tactful if Red saw what must've been plainly obvious, at least, not in that sense anyway. It struck Teloni that it was cruel that Red had been born with her stutter. By every other regard she was almost perfect. She didn't have the looks of Tiggy, the girl who had bullied her, but in the sun, with the glow warming her skin, she didn't seem too far behind either. She had a very good figure and her legs were certainly a measure of perfection for her age, but on top of all that had been thrust upon her the stutter, just like taking a cherry from the top of a perfect bowl of ice cream, and replacing it with a large, fat toad. She turned, noticing his hesitation. "It's alright." She said. "It's s- s-s-s-safe." Oh, she means the buildings... Teloni thought with relief. He let his eyes drift up the nearest, it looked a little solid, he conceded. Maybe a little dilapidated, but that was all right. Grass was even growing between the brickwork. It waved in the breeze. Jane drifted. She knew she was dreaming. She felt almost completely weightless. She opened her eyes and saw the shifting mists of sleep folding around and over her, warm and natural and calm. She felt an automatic smile climbing up onto her face and for a few more moments, she let herself drift, knowing that she had the power here. She could make and dream whatever she wanted; she could steer now, as she had never done before. She could pilot this dream through the realms of fancy and let things happen that in reality would never happen. "He can't hurt you." The voice was a whisper, caught on the breeze. It floated to her out of the fog as though it were a piece of a conversation two friends were having across a park and the air had conspired to allow these simple words passage through to her. Perhaps it was Amie, or Red. Maybe it was the old Red, even, healed here in her dream. She wondered how he would sound if he was normal? Jane felt firm, soft ground underneath her and her shoulders rose up into a sitting position, a wall forming behind her. She glanced down at the carpet as the walls of fog drew back, away from her and she recognised the blue. It was the carpet of her own room. Jane glanced up at the wall and saw familiar posters there, and the recognizable white squares of the ceiling plaster. It was cheap, but it was uniquely hers. The fog drew further back and a silhouette showed through the whiteness. It was the figure of a body, high up, dangling. Jane knew what it was the moment before it showed itself and she winced, remembering now what she had tried to do. It was a younger Jane though, bony and fleshless, all skin and bones and she remembered the sicknesses of her own habit which had been lying in wait behind her senses all these years. She remembered the crushing tiredness too; the protestations of her own undernourished body, which she had blamed on the withdrawal symptoms in her ignorance of better days. The girl in front of her was struggling weakly, hands around the rope collar she had tied herself, regretful certainty in her eyes. She kicked and wriggled but she could not find the strength to be free of the trap she had made for herself. Jane tried to rise from where she was but her body didn't want to move now. The hanging girl's eyes bugged out a little and Jane winced as the younger her raised a hand towards her. "HELP!" The girl croaked, but Jane was still frozen. She wanted to rise, to help but she couldn't. The fog was gone now, and there was creeping darkness where there had been fog, the window was dark but there was a little light coming through the curtains as though it were the middle of the night. As Jane breathed out, she saw misty vapour in the air. The warmth had given way to the coldness of nightmare. Once again she tried to rise, tried to help herself, but she couldn't move, she couldn't find the energy. She could only watch. Jane saw tears running down the younger her's face, slowly, a catalyst of emotion crossing between them. "Why?" The younger her's voice croaked, her eyes creasing up in fatal non-understanding. She tried again to pull herself up a little so that she could be free of the strangulating cord she had fashioned for herself. "No!" Jane said, an impotent whisper. The girl's struggling became weaker, her tongue seeming to push forwards now, out of her blue lips, the tip bleeding from where she had bitten it. The eyes shifted, the lids drawing back horribly and then the figure was still, arms dropping away weakly from the deadly collar. Jane's breath hitched in her chest and tears fell from her own eyes. She didn't understand the vision, but she knew the pain of it. She also knew why it had come, or at least possibly why her mind had thrown up the memory in her dream. It hadn't been exactly true to reality, not true to the way it had happened, but it might as well have been. Quite suddenly, she was free and she pushed herself up, stepping forwards to help the dying girl only when she tried to lift the figure, Jane realised that she weighed much more than she had supposed, then she looked at herself and saw the thinness of her own arms, the shadow of death in her body. She looked down at her body and saw ribs, clearly defined against the figure hugging t-shirt; her breasts were back to their shrunken A-cups, malnourished and unloved for so long. But she couldn't feel the hunger, nor the desperate desire for heroin, and those were no small mercies. "I'm sorry." She said, looking up at the girl, trying to apologise that she could not help no matter how much she wanted to. She reached up to the girl's hand, wanting to see if there was the slightest trace of understanding there but she couldn't feel anything but stiff, cold and rigid fingers. A hand closed in her hair, close to the scalp and her head was pulled backwards, pain blossoming up. "You're sorry?" Said a male voice close by her ear. The voice was loaded with hatred and resentment, but it was familiar. "You're sorry, you pig- witch of a whore!" The voice was outraged. "What have you to be sorry for, you killed her!" "No." Jane protested. "I didn't." "You killed her." The voice said and Jane's eyes were drawn back to the bug eyed face, the eyes were leaking blood from the sides now, the tongue sticking out a good inch from her face, blue as her lips and her slowly tinting cheeks. "You killed her." The voice repeated, passing sentence over Jane like the banging of a judges gavel on the execution forms of a criminal. "...Jane." The name joined the hateful words, uttered as though it were the most hateful of them all. The world spun, the hand in her hair jerking her around so that she hit the wall of her bedroom with a thud that shuddered through her whole body. She dropped down stunned onto a cold tile floor, one hand going up, feeling the blood running out the side of her mouth. She spat out a red marker on the white tiles and looked up at the room, which had suddenly become the school toilets, the boys room, just as she remembered it. Standing there, brought back from the dead, was Andy Devon, the first of her suppliers and the worst of them all. He was standing at the sink, slicked back, black hair drawn upwards and back by a silky red comb, sliding through the well maintained, perfect hair. It's just a dream... Jane told herself, aware that Andy had overdosed three years ago. He's not real. "Please..." Her voice came out of her own mouth unbidden. She hadn't meant to say it but that gut feeling, those horrible creatures within her crawling back, sliding and chewing their way back into her life. She felt the familiar hollowness and the depth of her own need. Her body was screaming and her mind was trying to push back the strength of the feeling, she had to fight it. She had to fight it! Jane remembered Red, just as she was now, not the guy Red, but the realer girl that she had become. She tried to picture Red and Amie, her two best friends, and tried to push back the tide of this horrible inner feeling with the strength of their memory and worth. In front of her, Andy continued to comb his hair, doing it slowly and lovingly. It was probably the only thing he had ever loved. "I've only got a little." Andy said and she barely heard him. "Not very much at all infact." He was talking into the mirror as if she wasn't important enough to take up his whole attention. "But you can pay me the full price and I'll make it up to you next week." He paused then, sliding the comb back into one of his leather jacket's breast pockets and then he turned and stepped forwards towards her. "He can't hurt you, y'know." Andy said and Jane glanced up at him puzzled. But it was like Andy hadn't spoken, he stopped in front of her and his hand touched her cheek tenderly. This was what made him the worst for her, he was so hard to hate sometimes. She really appreciated his touch, even though she knew what he was doing to her. It was the only way a guy had ever touched her in a loving way, even if she knew Andy didn't care in the least really. It made her feel special and she liked the feeling. It was nothing like the feelings that came from those monsters inside of her. "And just because I like you," Andy said, smiling a little. "I'll let you suck my dick, and then you can buy my own share that I've been saving. It's a pain, but I can see how bad you need it." Jane felt hollow but her body made her nod. It was just as dreamlike and horrible as she remembered, almost perfect autonomy without willpower. Jane's hands fumbled with Andy's trousers, while Jane felt herself falling further back inside herself, knowing what to do and how to do it, but unable to completely be a part of it. She retreated back in her mind until she felt the bars of the cage at her back, which housed the unquiet monsters, gibbering and yelling, screeching and clawing in their prison of airy thought. They pulled at her and she could feel them, just as she could feel the dick, pushing over her lips, it was silky just like the rest of Andy. She hated him but she loved it too because he was the only one who had ever been good to her, he had been the only creature with the gear who had ever thought she was important enough to spend a moment to touch her cheek or to speak those loving words. He was cruel too, much more so than he was kind, but the kindness was like water and life was like a desert. She felt the roughness now as he became aroused and he grew out in her mouth. She worked her tongue along the bottom, encouraging him because she knew that in the end it would be worth it. She'd do anything to quiet those demons for a while. His hand closed in her hair and he encouraged her, pushing her against him in appraisal of her efforts. Jane felt a little better for having his touch. Andy's other hand touched the side of her head and quite suddenly he pulled sharply and her face was pulled closer to his body, his pubic hairs tickling her face. The penis tip was in the back of her throat now and she moaned a protestation, feeling it grow a little more within her body so that it touched the very back of her mouth. A horrible smell rose up then, drifting up her nose and she recognised the clawing smell of decay, she tasted the horrible putrid liquid that spurted out into the back of her throat and she gagged. She tilted her head a little and looked up to see that Andy had become a corpse, maggots dropped from his face down into her hair and face, one rolling off the side of her cheek. She began to scream, but the flesh in her mouth became soft and as she drew back in terror, she felt large chunks of flesh peeling away from Andy's rotten manhood, soft like pus filled tumours in her mouth. She spat but her mouth was filling with that rotten seaman now. She felt a large part of his penis break away from his body, pulled loose by her own mouth and as she fell back in shock, that stolen piece of him fell with her, dropping back by gravity into the back of her throat. Jane turned, and tried to expel the piece of decay from her throat but it stuck there, she reached in, trying to dislodge it and felt it come loose as the vomit finally came, enticed by the waves of death in her mouth. The long member dropped out of her, splatting onto the tiles, sticky trails still linking it with her mouth as she watched it, frozen by horror. One end of it was ragged, torn away, but the other end still spurted faintly greenish liquid. Jane finally screamed, and it was terrible. The sound was raw and terrified and even within herself she marvelled that it had even quieted those demons inside her. "He can't hurt you." A voice said and Jane glanced up, scared and alone, still screaming even though her manic eyes were now looking away from what had upset her. Her mouth was burning now like it was full of fire, but she saw the hanging girl in front of her again, hanging now from a light fixture. Those blank eyes were now firmly set on Jane's face. "He can't hurt you." She said, her words twisted because she could no longer wholly control the movements of her own tongue. Jane glanced back down and saw that disembodied penis twitching, it seemed to curl a little and then the back end of it rose a little. It crept forwards, like a worm, and then it leapt, landing in Jane's lap. She pushed backwards in shock but she saw that penis seem to push down and she felt it pushing inside her, forcing its way in as though there was still a body behind it, fuelling it. She heard her own clothes ripping, even as she reached down towards it and then the thing pushed inside. She groaned a little from the movement, vomiting again, rolling over feeling that horrible thing burrowing deeply inside her until her body closed back over it. "NO!" She begged, aware that this was a dream still, that it was all a dream that she would wake from eventually. She wanted to wake up; she desperately wanted to escape