TABOO TALES(erotica)

David ran closer, but Andre was done getting hit. He leaned away from David’s punch and smashed his fist into David’s side, snapping ribs. The man fell back and caught Andre’s last punch in the middle of his face, crushing his nose. The man collapsed.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Andre leaned back against the building, panting and wincing in pain. Everything hurt, and his face was swelling up from the number of punches he’d taken. He tasted blood from his split lip. His backpack was on the ground, and he stumbled forward to pick it up. He walked away without looking back and made it all the way home without further incident. He still had some pills left, but he recalled the doctor’s warning. He went into the bathroom and did his best to wash off the blood.

“ANDRE!”

His eyes opened, and he was looking up at Cassandra from the bathroom floor.

“What happened? Who did this?” she cried.

“Henry Fisher… Rick Halton, Greg Davis… Kevin Zeigler, and David Trent. So angry at me.” He tried to shrug, but that hurt too.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Cassandra looked at Andre and helped him sit up and move back to lean against the tub. The quick knock came again. “This is the Police. Open up!”

Andre saw Cassandra’s eyes flash with rage, and she was gone.

“I want them arrested! NOW!”

Andre could see her in the hallway yelling at someone outside the apartment door, and to Andre, she looked like an avenging Valkyrie.

“We have a report that Andre Marin injured five students behind the local high school,” a deep voice said.

“Come in! Look at the damage they did and tell me he wasn’t the victim of a savage beating!” Cassandra snapped.

She stormed back into the bathroom and gently helped Andre to his feet. She eased off his hoodie and long-sleeved t-shirt and gasped at the bruising on his arms. A tear ran down her cheek, then her expression hardened. “Tell them who did this.”

Andre repeated the names for the two big cops standing just outside the washroom. They looked uncomfortable as they looked at his arms.

“The boys you just mentioned claimed you attacked them. They were all taken to the hospital with serious injuries,” one officer said grimly.

“Andre, tell them what happened,” Cassandra said gently.

He looked at her, then nodded. “When I left the school, someone grabbed my backpack and dragged me behind the portable. They started yelling at me. They were so angry.”

“What were they saying?” Cassandra asked.

He looked at her again. “They said their girlfriends were dumping them, and it was my fault. They didn’t explain why,” Andre said, confused.

“So, they were yelling at you and…” the second officer prompted.

“Rick punched me. Then they were all punching me. I tried to run, but they had me trapped between them and the portable. I had to hit them back so I could get away.”

“You can see these are defensive wounds!” Cassandra insisted as she pointed to Andre’s forearms. “And you can’t tell me one man can trap five more easily than five can trap one! Andre was obviously the victim of their brutal attack!”

“Yet they’re all on their way to the hospital, and he’s only bruised,” the first cop insisted.

Cassandra’s voice stuck in her throat momentarily before she found it again and exploded. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? ONLY BRUISED? ARE YOU BLIND?”

Andre wrapped his sore arms around Cassandra’s waist to hold her back, and she glanced down to see the discoloration. She sucked in a breath, as she knew he was in pain.

She locked eyes with the cops. “Do the math. Andre was attacked by five jealous punks whose girlfriends found them lacking. That he defended himself and won the fight is irrelevant in terms of the crime. Feel free to piss off and take it up with the truly guilty. Now, get out!”

Red-faced, the two cops turned and left the apartment. Cassandra locked up behind them and rushed back to Andre, who was leaning against the bathroom counter. She got a facecloth and carefully washed his face. She used cool water to help ease the swelling. Then she washed his arms and his torso.

“Come on. You’re going to lie down before you fall down.” Cassandra guided him out into the living room and got his bed ready, then eased him down onto it. She left and returned with a cold compress she placed across his eyes. She saw him relaxing.

“Sorry, Cassandra,” he whispered.

“What are you apologizing for?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to add to your burden of taking care of me,” he managed to say. His bottom lip was trembling.

She was quiet, and he began to worry, so he reached up to lift the compress from his eyes. Her hands caught his and eased them back to his sides.

“Andre, you are never a burden to me. Rest. We’ll see if you’re well enough to go to school in the morning.”

He heard her leave the room, then the sound of her bedroom door closing. Her voice had been wobbling when she spoke, so he didn’t know what to make of that. His face throbbed, so he eased himself back against the pillow and did his best to relax.

The coolness of the compress felt good, and soon he drifted off.

-=-

Cassandra cried into her pillow to keep Andre from hearing.

He was still worried about being a burden to her, and this reminded her of the harsh words she’d used on him when he first came to live with her. Her guilt ate at her, and she didn’t know what she could do to finally get through to him that she wanted him with her.

That sent another stab of guilt through her as the memory of his trembling lips returned to her with how much she’d wanted to kiss them.

He was lying there, helpless, blindfolded, and so sad, yet what was going through her head was her sick need to press her lips against his to ease his upset… and feed her need for him.

Even bruised, his body drew her like no other.

She had to get some perspective on this and protect Andre from the same kind of abuse Gloria put him through.

She remained in her room for hours before sleep took her.

-=-

Andre convinced Cassandra to go to work as he said he was feeling up to going back to school. He made her lunch and prepared her bag for her. When she left for work, he took a cold shower to help with the remaining swelling, then got dressed slowly.

With his bruising, it took longer for him to walk to school, but he listened to Judas Priest’s Painkiller, which obscured his mind’s own screams in his head and dulled the stream of inputs surrounding him.

As he walked through the halls, his hood up and his eyes down, he felt their stares. Whenever he glanced up, they always looked away. That was a surprising change and something of a relief.

He was almost to his homeroom class when Mrs. Phillips stepped out into the hall to stop him. He glanced up at her and saw her expression freeze as her eyes moved over his face. It looked like she’d been about to say something cross, but her expression softened.

“Mr. Marin, Principal Wallace and Mr. Garlin would like to speak with you in the principal’s office. You can find your way there, yes?”

He nodded and turned away to begin the trek to the administrative offices. The secretary gestured for him to take a seat. She got on the phone.

“Mr. Marin, you can go in now.”

He glanced at the woman, then walked to the door and opened it. He stepped inside and saw the principal in his chair behind his desk, and the coach was sitting in one of the two chairs before it.