Follow The Rules

Our little secret

"Oh god, you're so beautiful." The hot body above him panted, nuzzling into his neck before licking a long his collar bone. His hands had been re cuffed above his head, and he was lying on his back, knees bent to his chest, sweaty hands keeping them in place.

"f*****g hell." Lips crushed against his own, tongue forcing his lips a part as he let out a sob of pain, embarrassment, shame, everything.

"Shhh, beautiful." A hand ran through his hair, that was plastering itself to his forehead. A shudder ran through him which earned a strangled moan from the body above him.

"It's okay." He continued. Hot breath on his face, the smell filling his nostrils.

"It will be our little secret."

"P-please, plea-, ahhh." He cried after a particular violent thrust that sent white hot pain shooting up his stomach and spine.

"Our little secret, alright?" The man panted into ear, his lips dusting the shell of his ear as his thrusts became faster and harsher. Oliver bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back the screams. His throat was already hurting so bad.

"Come on, beautiful, say it." Oliver barely registered his voice that the man seemed to struggle to get out. He was getting close.

"Say it, beautiful." The man was sending kisses down Oliver's neck and attempting to forget about the pain that was happening down below, tried to focus on how sickened he was by the mans actions. It was almost like he was trying to be loving. When Oliver didn't reply, he bit down harshly on his collar bone, earning another scream of protest from Oliver's mouth. He held there for a moment and his thrusts became so forceful, it was as though he had to complete the act or else he would die. The man finally released him when he had to let out a groan of pleasure. "Come on, Ollie. Our little secret."

He barely registered the words falling from his mouth in a breathy, croaky moan.

"Our little secret." He repeated and as though it was the key, the man came with a loud cry and a shudder before Oliver felt him collapse tiredly on top of him.

"Our little secret." The man repeated softly, and Oliver found himself repeating the words back to him again and again in a trance like way. Even when the man rolled off him and he registered the sickening feeling of fluids spilling out from within him, he paid little attention to it. Oddly the man curled up beside him, wrapping an arm around Oliver's chest and pulling him close.

"That's right, beautiful. Our little secret." And soon the man was asleep, snoring in his ear as he slept soundly. If Oliver wasn't blindfolded, then he would have laid staring at the ceiling. He was so tired, but his body couldn't imagine falling asleep with the man that had hurt him still so close. He thought about how he would tell his parents about what happened to him. They would surely take him to a hospital as soon as they found out and Oliver thought about how he would have to tell the doctors who would probe him, stick him with things touch him. They'd call the police and he'd have to tell it again and again, spilling every horrible detail. The man shifted next to him but didn't wake. He thought about what his attacker made him say. About what he wanted from Oliver and he realised that he was right. He couldn't tell anyone. Ever. It would be their secret.

"Our little secret."

It had been a week since he'd started school again and things really hadn't gotten any better. He spent his days avoiding people. Teachers, friends, his parents. The only person he felt comfortable talking to was Daisy. She didn't know him before it all happened, so she never suspected anything. She didn't question him when he jumped at sudden movements or when he zoned out. She never asked why he continued to skip football practice and chose to hang out at the library with her instead and Daisy could never know how grateful he was for it. He could be himself. Well, his new self. The much more closed off, silent self that he'd turned into.

He couldn't touch homework. The thought of it seemed pointless now. He had done everything possible to be at the top of his classes, yet none of them could stop what had happened to him. No knowledge of mathematics of English had helped him get out of the situation unscathed. Why did people bother with such things when they couldn't even help with something as basic as getting home from school without being kidn*pped.

Food was also another issue. Of course, he knew that eating was a necessity in life so he would eat small portions of his food, taking a bite or two from each meal, but that alone would make his stomach nauseous.

He would actively avoid John and the rest of his friends, visibly fleeing when they spotted him and he found himself sitting alone in isolated parts of the school and gardens during lunch just to avoid people in general.

In classes, he sat at the back, doodling aimlessly and everything a teacher said went in one ear and out the other. Sometimes, he even snuck his iPod into class and if it was something really boring like political science, he would put an ear bud in and sit with his ear in his hand to hide it, just to drown out the both the outside noise and the inside noise that never seemed to stop.

"Mr. Tyler?" He looked up from his book and noticed the whole class had turned to face him. Only when he saw Mr. Hughes leaning up against his desk at the front of the class did he even remember that the class he was in was Psychology. Mr. Hughes looked at him expectantly and he was well aware that he had obviously missed something.

"Sorry?" He said, presuming he was being told off for not listening. If it was any teacher to notice and bother disrupting the class to yell at him, it would be Mr. Hughes.

"I need a guinea pig." He said, beaconing him to the front of the class. So wait, he wasn't in trouble. "Come on." Mr. Hughes insisted when Oliver didn't move immediately.

"I'm okay." Oliver said shaking his head, and visibly shrinking into his chair, hoping the man would just let it go.

"Don't be ridiculous, Oliver." The man said with a laugh, like Oliver was kicking up a big fuss over nothing.

"Someone else can be your guinea pig." Oliver noticed a few people eagerly turn to look at Mr. Hughes, arms raised and eager to be chosen. The man had plenty of options. "I'm fine."

"Come on, Oliver." The man said sternly, but he was still smiling at him. "Just participate for me and then you can go back to whatever it is that you'd rather be doing." s**t. So he'd noticed. Why, after a week of this behaviour, had he only now, in front of the entire class, chosen to call him up on it? Oliver looked around and noticed that everyone was still watching him. His eyes met Matts who had given up trying to sit next to him days ago. Quickly he looked down at his sketchbook, not wanting to look into the judgmental eyes of his friend, and hoping if he sat there it would all just go away.

"We don't have all day, Oliver." The man said in a sing song voice but there was an air of finality to it that made Oliver close his book and begrudgingly walk up to the front of the class, fidgeting awkwardly as he felt all eyes on him.

"Good." Mr. Hughes said enthusiastically. "Now, come here." He led Oliver to the front right hand corner of where the desks began and placed him, facing the students with two hands on his shoulders. Oliver immediately tensed at the touch and he was pleased that as soon as he was where Mr. Hughes wanted him, the man let go. "How many times this year do you think you've been in this class room?" He asked and Oliver's face contorted into one of confusion. Seriously?

"I don't know." Oliver shrugged and shook his head, feeling awfully uncomfortable in front of his peers so looked down to his shoes. His black eye had faded to a more subtle yellow colour, however the small cut that was there was still healing visibly. In fact most of his wounds had healed except the bite and his wrists which were deeper than the others and would take longer to heal. The bruising had definitely gone down at least and he no longer hurt.

"Right." Mr. Hughes said. "Way too many times to count. Now, I want you to walk from here, to the other corner and back again." Oliver was again confused by his odd request, but the faster Mr. Hughes was done with him the faster he could sit down and become invisible again. So he did as he was told, weaving in between the rows of desks and chairs and students, trying to find the quickest way there and back. When he returned to the corner he had started in he shrugged, wondering what the point was of that little exercise. The class sarcastically applauded him when he returned, obviously also confused by difficulty of the task.

"Okay, okay." Mr. Hughes said, quieting the class down as he turned Oliver to face the direction he was facing before he started. "Yes well done. But, do you think you could do it again, without looking." Oliver looked over his shoulder at his teacher who was fiddling with his tie – loosening it. f**k. Oliver opened his mouth to protest when he heard a sound of understanding coming from the students. "You see," The teacher continued as he complete took off his tie, earning a wolf whistle from some annoying kid in the class who thought he was cool. "The brain is an amazing thing. You've walked this trail so many times that I bet you it's muscle memory and you haven't even noticed." The man held out his hand, displaying the powder blue and navy tie. Oliver stared at it. The teacher wanted him to be blindfolded. Under normal circumstances, this would be quite a fun exercise to both do and watch, but not for Oliver. Not now. Not after...

"Now." The teacher said, grabbing the tie and preparing to tie it around Oliver's eyes. "I want you to try and take the same route you just took." And a moment later the world went dark.

Oliver tried to focus on his breathing. Listening to the sound of their shaky intakes and exhales. It's just a tie. He's in a classroom. His classroom, a classroom he's been in countless of times as they've just established. It was going to be fine.

His teacher tied it tightly around his head and stepped away from him, he could sense their proximity. He could sense everyone. He just had to try. If he tried, he could pretend to just give up at the impossible task and rip the blind fold off. But he hadn't moved. Couldn't. Just take a step.

As though his body was tapping into its own muscle memory, his ears automatically fine-tunned. He could hear everyone's breaths, the slightest of movements. He heard Mr. Hughes shuffle behind him, watching. They were watching. Everyone was watching him and he couldn't see them. He thought back to all those times he knew B was looking at him, thinking something that he'd probably be able to guess if only he could see him. But he couldn't he couldn't see anything. He was blindfolded. He felt a familiar pain shoot up through his shoulders as though they remembered the pain of being tied up that was associated with being blindfolded. The panic that came with it. The frustration. The fear.

Fear.

His breathing began to increase involuntarily, the muscles in his legs went numb. Hands. Hands touching him. His hands, his breath, his sweat, his tongue.

"Oliver?"

The voice was pretty much unrecognisable as his breathing became sorter, shallower. Oliver. That was the first word B said to him. Where was he? He wasn't back there. Not with them. Not with him. But then why did it feel so real? His legs gave out from underneath him and he collapsed to the floor, his hands the only thing keeping him from lying completely flat on his face. His teeth, his breath, his sweat, his tongue. His hands.

His hands.

He could feel them. Touching his back, his shoulders. Touching him.

"Ollie?"

It was real. He was there again. He was going to be hurt again. Touched again. r***d again.

"Ollie." The stern, worried voice broke through it all and suddenly, with one swift movement, it was all gone. He looked down at the blindfold in Mr. Hughes hand and then up to meet his teachers concerned eyes. His other hand was on Oliver's shoulder and he looked down to it. The hands. They were Mr. Hughes. f*****g hell what a complete i***t! He looked up the faces of students staring down at him in confusion, one of them being Matt, who had gotten right to the front and was crouching down in front of him, just behind Mr. Hughes, with eyes of deep concern.

Fucking hell, what had he done? Had a complete meltdown in front of everyone, that's what.

"Deep breaths, Ollie, okay?" Mr. Hughes voice caught his attention again and he realised he was still breathing pretty hard. "Matt, can you run and get the nurse for me, please?" and Oliver immediately snapped back into focus. Nurses meant questions.

"No." He said a little too loudly than necessary, but it stopped his friend, dead in his tracks of turning around. "I'm fine."

"Oliver, you-,"

"I said I'm fine." He practically yelled, shrugging his teachers arm off his shoulder and standing up onto shaking legs hurriedly.

"Ollie." His teacher said sternly, reaching out to grab him again but Oliver all but sprinted to the door.

"Ollie, mate, wait." Matt called after him as he made his way down the corridor.

"Just leave me alone Matt." He called, not bothering to turn around as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself.

"But Ollie-,"

"Leave me, the f**k alone." He yelled and didn't bother to check to see if his friend had listened, but when he turned the corner and made it to his locker, he noticed that his friend hadn't followed him. But someone else had.

"Tyler." s**t. He banged his head against his locker that he hadn't managed to open because his hands were shaking to much before turning to face the large man standing next to him.

"Yes Coach?" He managed to say evenly, even though he was shaking like a damn leaf. Jesus Christ it was a f*****g psych example.

"Don't 'yes coach' me, Tyler, like everything's okay." The man said, frowning and crossing his arms across his chest. "Where the hell have you been?" Oliver sighed. He knew this was bound to happen. No one can miss a week of practice without being hunted down like this.

"Um, I've just been..." He trailed off, not really having an answer to that other than 'having mental breakdowns' and he didn't think that would fly with the coach.

"What?" The man barked and Oliver jumped half out of his skin. "What is it? You don't want to play football anymore? Is that it? Because I've got plenty of people waiting on the side lines that'd be happy to take your place."

"For f***s sake." Oliver muttered, knowing that there was no way to answer his questions. How was he supposed to tell him that he didn't want to play football anymore because he didn't like to be touched by other people because he was f*****g kidn*pped and r***d.

"Excuse me?" The man said, astonishment laced in his totally surprised voice. Oliver didn't reply, he just stared at his coaches feet wondering when they'd turn and walk away. "I didn't realise that's how you felt, Oliver, but I can't have that sort of attitude on my team. You come to practice this afternoon with a new attitude." The man spat before turning on his heels and beginning to walk away.

"Or what?" Oliver wasn't sure what made him call out to his coach. He'd never disrespected the man before, in fact he looked up to him. The man cared for everyone on the team, but if they did something to screw over the team, then, well, Oliver was getting a lesson on that first hand. The coach haltered in his steps and turned around to look at the boy, disbelief clear on his face, before the anger seeped through.

"Or you're out." And if on cue, the bell rang out for the end of the day and the halls flooded with kids. The coach was swallowed by the crowed and Oliver turned to his locker, and not caring whether anyone saw, pulled back his fist and punched it three times aggressively. A few people haltered around him, but he didn't care, he fumbled with his lock until the locker door – now with a fist sized dint – opened, and grabbed his bag. After slamming the locker shut, he began walking down the halls. f**k the coach. Being kicked off the team would in fact solve a few of his problems. It meant he could stop sneaking around, it meant his friends would probably stop trying with him if they were no longer team mates. It wasn't a punishment, it was a reward.

He marched down the halls, anger seething out of every pore, when a voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Well someone's in a rush to get to art club." How the f**k did she do that? He had no idea Daisy was behind him, skipping along to keep up with the storming boy. He looked over to her, he had completely forgotten about art club, completely forgotten about Daisy and he couldn't help but feel guilty.

"Hey." She suddenly said, grabbing his wrist and stopping in her tracks, causing him to swing around to a stop and face her. "What's up?" He couldn't look at her because he knew that she would have genuine concern for him, but he didn't deserve it. He had forgotten about her, and all she was doing was caring why.

"Come on." She suddenly said, and still holding onto his arm dragged him off down the halls. He really wanted to tell her that he didn't want to go to art club tonight. He wanted to go and hit something, preferably coach, or Mr. Hughes, or George. But then she was guiding him outside and it took a while for his to comprehend what was happening.

"Umm, where are we going?" He asked, trying to control his breathing enough to talk calmly. She turned back and smiled at him before leading him off the school grounds and down the footpath and shrugged.

"My house."

Um what?