Boys Don't Cry

Disclaimer: The idea and a few, very minor, characters are mine, which works for me.

Author's note: This chapter contains a somewhat detailed account of physical trauma/abuse, though it is not, for now, non-consensual, however if you do not wish to read about a teenager getting trounced please overlook this chapter, and basically this story in general, thanks. Now...on with the story.


Screams, some of pleasure and others of pain, blended together into an unholy mix, creating a whole new sound; one that would make angels tremble and the devil himself wary.

He could also smell the stench of raw, freshly spilled, blood as it hovered in the air, entangling with the pungent odor of blood that had long ago been spilt.

It was an odor intoxicating, inviting, and absolutely irresistible.

"Hey kid!"

The impatient call brought him crashing back down to true reality, his ethereal trance crudely broken.

Swinging his head to the left, he looked over at the individual that was directing another short shout at him.

"Are you coming in or what!"

A burly, beast of a man stood to one side of a very shoddy looking building, holding a heavy metal door halfheartedly open, allowing the previously undisturbed night air to become further permeated by the savage chaos raging within old walls.

Glassy eyes remained unresponsive to the inquiry but the youth began to shuffle forward laggardly as his feet fought his head, and his head fought his heart, while his heart fought his soul.

As he soon passed over the doorway's threshold, it wasn't exactly clear to him which one had won out over the others, all that mattered was what the end results would be regardless, and what price he'd have to pay to achieve them.


"You came back."

A face hardened by years of living, years filled with many trials and tribulations, evidenced by the scars that marred relatively handsome features, looked up to acknowledge the boy as he walked into the back room.

"Yeah," dropping down the duffel bag he carried to the floor, the teenager bent over to unzip it and remove some of its contents.

"Didn't think you would."

"Why not?", asking the question without any real desire to hear an answer, he shrugged off his long sleeved shirt and slipped on an over bleached and faded tee.

"Most guys who come in here, they have no idea what they're in store for, but you...it's like it's what draws you here, that this is what you're looking for, on purpose."

"Didn't peg you for a head-shrinker."

Chuckling, the older man reclined back in his chair, "Doesn't take much shrinking to get into the head of someone like you kid."

Raising his eyes up from his bag while zipping it closed the lad made brief visual contact with the man, "I seriously doubt that."

"Really?"

Straightening up from the floor, the adolescent kicked his bag aside as he moved to face the other side of the room, "There is no one else 'like' me. You have no idea what it means to be 'me', who I am, you could never know; you couldn't handle knowing."

Frowning at the unexpected response, the man, someone who fear itself would often cower before, all of a sudden felt quite uneasy at the boy's grim expression.

As the seconds ticked by, one by one, and the feeling only grew stronger he was finally forced to give up and look away first, unable to even brave another glimpse at him.

"You're up," were the only words he dared speak for fear of stammering.

Walking past the shaken individual, a small smile settled upon the child's lips as he drew closer and closer to the utter madness literally calling out and beckoning until it enveloped him completely, and he disappeared into a veil of infinite darkness.


"Take him!"

"Finish him!"

He could hear them as the mind numbing, thundering noise they made kept filling his ears, but the loud ringing that kept echoing through his mind made their jeers seem faint and far away.

Huddled in a ball on the filthy floor, lying in someone else's long lost life force that his own now mingled with, he kept his head tucked down into his arms for protection.

Never the face.

It was fine to go after any other part of him, didn't matter which or what or how hard, just not his face.

There was something empowering about having an completely unblemished visage and knowing, secretly, that below it was a battered, beaten, bruised body, something so very mangled and tortured it would turn a strong man's stomach and chill any warm heart to near ice.

Closing his eyes as he felt a heavy boot land once more on the middle of his back, he didn't cry out but instead rolled over so that the next hit would cover more territory.

A swift strike to the ribs, an arduous jab to the kidneys, he welcomed each and every advance to cause him agony, inviting the harsh punishment and giving the punisher full access to do his worst.

"Kid? Hey, you still with me?"

All physical activity ceased as a deep voice called out to him, "Wake up!"

Realizing who was speaking to him, he lifted up his head up then, staring into the person's eyes, the only part of the face unshielded by the dark mask they wore.

"How much longer you wanna go for?"

He knew the true question being asked him, 'how much more can you take?'.

And the answer he wanted to give would impossible to comprehend, or execute, so he just shook his head, "Keep going..."

"For how long though?"

Moving his left leg and feeling sharp, nearly unbearable, pain shoot through it, the boy unwillingly gasped his reply, "Until I can't feel anything at all…"

Nodding his head, or shaking it, it was a toss up which it was, the massive figure rose back up to his feet, gazing down at the weakened, bloodied, and broken down body of the youngster; for a moment, underneath his mask, a look of concern crossed his face.

But he was there to do a job, not care about the reasons why people volunteered to have the shit kicked out of them, so with the resigned consciousness of a detached mercenary he brought the steel toed boot he wore back and then kicked forward.

His head was reburied down in his arms, lying against the cold, unforgiving foundation of the ring, as he waited. Suddenly and unexpectedly the child felt an euphoric spirit pass over him, filling him full of total tranquility before a cracking noise was heard, like a shot, throughout the entire arena as metal met skull and his whole body slumped down to the floor, entirely unresponsive to the gradually fading to black world around him.


tbc...