Our Little Secret

Chapter Six - Second Bite of the Apple

"I'm gonna get that little fucker next time." Doctor Jones growled, making his way speedily down the hospital corridors as he massaged his balls and his sore member.

"And which 'little fucker' would that be, Doctor Jones?" the Director, Roma, asked, a small smile on his face, "Not one of your patients, surely?" Alfred stopped dead in the corridor and tensed up at the other man's voice. Shit, how was he going to get out of that one?

"Of course not, Roma!" Jones laughed, "It was a... A mosquito bite, you see. Bastard bit me down there!"

"I see," Roma chuckled, "I too dislike mosquitoes. They're nothing more than vile little things with wings; all they do is pass diseases around to humans. If only the world were rid of them. But they're just little insignificant organisms, aren't they, Doctor Jones? They don't do too much harm overall, do they? They only help the world; we're overpopulated as it is. Think of them as tiny helpers." Doctor Jones frowned. He did have a point about insignificant organisms - there were far too many of those around these days.

"You're right, Roma." He smiled. Damn, would this guy just hurry up?!

"Of course I am," the elder chuckled back, "I'm glad to see you out of your office, Doctor Jones. You never come out much, you should relax more! You work far too hard. I'll see you around, okay? Goodbye!" Alfred nodded and waved the man goodbye before turning back down the corridor. He grumbled something incoherent and made his way into the coffee smelling cafeteria, brushing past countless colleagues he couldn't give two shits about.


'Love of two is one, here but now they're gone. Came the last night of sadness and it was clear she couldn't go on. Then the door was open and the wind appeared... The candles blew then disappeared. The curtains flew then he appeared, saying "don't be afraid."'

To someone else, singing hard rock and heavy metal songs to get you asleep sounded like a stupid idea, but to Arthur Kirkland, it wasn't. He needed these songs to sooth him... They took away the disturbing images and memories that flooded his mind every night, every living and breathing moment when he couldn't focus on anything and even then they still came to him, still as scary and as daunting as they once were. His oldest brother, Declan, used to play rock music when Arthur was little. Blue Öyster Cult and The Rolling Stones were his favourite bands alongside Arthur and Aidan, but Arthur eventually went along the punk path in his teens and loved The Clash and The Jam.

Those memories of his brothers and their music were what helped Arthur. He wouldn't be able to breathe if not for them introducing him into rock music, it kept him going. Damn, he missed his brothers. All three of them... Dylan, the quieter of his three elder brothers, was only four years older than Arthur. Then it was Aidan... He had strawberry blonde hair bordering on ginger and he was eight years older. Aidan was a sheep. Not a black sheep like Arthur, oh no. Aidan was a sheep because he followed the eldest Kirkland son, Declan, who was another four years older. Declan had mousy-brown hair, and even though he tended to pick on Arthur sometimes, he knew when to stop.

The Kirkland brothers were a close knit lot. Declan, Aidan and Dylan comforted Arthur in one way or another, intentional or not. Never once did they stop their father or uncle Allistor from hurting Arthur, but they were always there when it ended, always there when Arthur was visibly shaking and crying and full of bruises and scratches. He was their baby brother, after all. Declan would order Dylan to go and fetch some plasters or an ice pack when Allistor got too rough. Then he'd order Aidan to grab a glass of water from the kitchen and if he bumped into their mother, Elizabeth, he'd have to recite a sorry excuse for why her little Artie, Deccie and Dy weren't there to welcome her home after a weekend away. It was all thought about thoroughly and planned, recited and learnt just in case mother did return when they hadn't quite patched Arthur up right.

And when they were done, Arthur with his heat patch or ice pack on his lower back or head and bandages wrapped around his waist to hide the already forming bruises shaped like their father's fingers, they would all sit in Declan's room, listening to his rock music that all four brothers adored until the youngest fell asleep and one of them would have to carry him to bed.

He missed that. That sort of innocence he once had, when he thought it was somewhat normal for his father to violate him in such ways, yet wondered why his brother's never got such treatment. They aren't as special as you his father used to say. But as years went on it turned from being special to being bad. You're bad, Arthur. You don't treat me with as much respect as you should; after all I've done for you, too! You deserve this. This is your life, boy. This is what you're meant to be! This is your destiny, Arthur. You're mine, alright? All mine.

Shit, I'm so sorry this chapter is to short! I can't remember the last time I updated? The 12th of July, I think. Loads of stuff has been happening since then: my cousin passed away, my friend and I went to Comic-Con, I've been taking part in G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S. and my auntie is visiting from South Africa... And to be truthful, I haven't had much inspiration for this chapter. I haven't followed the chapter plan AT ALL so hopefully I will have another update ASAP as an apology to you all!

Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favourited, reviewed etc.! I'll try not to let you all down.

P.S. - Please donate to G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S. or Random Acts! They need your help and are lots of fun to take part in.

- BritishTraveller.