LANEY AND JACKSON
"What are we? White trash?" His father screamed.
"You are!" Jackson spit back. His father hit him again. Blood shot from his busted lip as he fell backwards into the wall. His mother was sobbing somewhere in the house.
"Did you hit her tonight, too?" Jackson demanded. His father responded by picking him up and throwing him onto the floor.
"Listen you little shit—I brought you into this world and I can take you out! You have some respect for that, you hear me?" His father was screaming so hard that Jackson had to squint to keep the spatter of his father's words from getting into his eyes.
It was always the same. His father, well liked in their small mid-west town, was a drunk who beat his son. Jackson hated him, and before he could say it out loud, Jackson's father lifted him off the ground and carried him to the front door.
"Get out!" he cried. "Get out of my house! You aren't welcome here!" Jackson's father shoved his son through the front door and watched him tumble down the steps and hit the pavement. "Fucking piece of shit!" he spat as he spun around, fell into the wall and pulled himself upwards with the doorknob that he threw shut behind himself. Inside, his wife's crying was the only thing he heard.
Laney heard a tap at her second story bedroom window. It was dark. She looked around her room confused. There was another tap. She rolled out of bed and peered outside. On the street below, she saw Jackson standing on the corner in front of her house holding a handful of stones and bleeding. Laney opened her window.
"What are you doing here?" She hissed loudly from upstairs. "Are you okay?"
"My dad beat me up again." Jackson said.
"Come on up," Laney replied. Jackson climbed up the side of Laney's house and fell in through her window.
"Be quiet!" Laney insisted. Jackson stood up.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't know where else to go."
"It's cool." Laney said.
"Thanks." Jackson replied.
"You're welcome."
Jackson was limp with confusion. He sighed. It seemed all right here in Laney's room.
"The things I do for you," Laney teased. "Go wash up in the bathroom. I don't want you bleeding all over." Laney pointed to the door in the corner of her room. Jackson hobbled over and shut the door behind him.
Laney was thin and wiry and had long limbs that stretched out for miles beyond her torso. Her chest was flat with no definition at all, and her face was long. Her skin was translucent against the black drape of her wardrobe. Her hair was stringy, long, black, and covered most of her face. She was a typical goth: heavy eyes, white face, and too-bright red lips. Her favorite band was Joy Division. She loved Jackson, who was a seventeen year-old, broad-shouldered punk with a shaved head and blue eyes. He was covered with tattoos.
"You're Adam's apple is too big," Jackson insisted.
"I don't have an Adam's apple," Laney protested. They were under the bleachers of the football field smoking pot on a Friday afternoon.
"Yeah, right," Jackson sneered.
"Fuck you!" Laney hit the joint hard, and it popped suddenly. She jerked her head back, surprised. Jackson laughed.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Fine," Laney said smugly as she brushed her long bangs out of her face. From the corner of her eye, she saw a group of boys approaching them. She handed the joint back to Jackson feeling her stomach drop. "Hey," she said, and pointed behind him. Jackson turned and looked. "What do you think?" Laney asked afraid.
"Dunno. Let's find out," Jackson said.
"Let's get out of here," Laney replied, but it was too late.
"Hey fags!" the largest boy announced, "What do you think you're doing under here?"
"None of your fucking business, asshole," Jackson replied. Laney looked at the ground. Jackson stepped close to her side.
"That's not very nice," one of the boys taunted. "Don't you have manners?" The boy turned to the largest boy, "I don't think the faggots have any manners, Kelly. I don't think they're very friendly." The group of boys formed a circle around the pair.
Kelly looked at the two with disgust, "Fucking faggots," he spat.
"Yeah," the boys agreed, "fucking faggots," and they started pushing the two around among them, slowly at first and then all at once. Laney, desperate in her escalating terror, screamed out suddenly, "Stop it! Leave us alone!" Jackson turned his head sharply towards her as his body fell into another boy. It was now.
Jackson planted himself firmly. He grabbed Laney by the shoulders and shoved her—hard. Her body hurled towards the edge of the ring of boys that surrounded them and broke through. She fell a few feet away, her body slapping hard on the concrete. A small trickle of blood ran down her leg. Her black tights had been torn. She curled up into a ball and held tight, waiting to see what would happen again.
Jackson grit his teeth, "Fuckers!" he hissed at the group, "You shitty, shitty mother fuckers!" His right hand reached into his leather jacket and grabbed a knife. He lunged toward Kelly and, sticking the knife next to his left kidney, pushed the button on the top of the switchblade. The seven inch shaft of steel popped smoothly out of its casing and into the soft flesh of Kelly's side. Jackson pulled his arm back and spun around, blood oozing down the knife.
Horror enveloped the group. Kelly looked up and out of his struggle. There was a pain in his side. He looked down at himself. He'd been stabbed. Instinctively, his right hand grabbed for the wound, cupping it. "What the fuck?" he screamed out at the group of boys. "What the fuck?" His legs folded in half. His knees cracked onto the pavement. "I'm cut!" Kelly screamed, "The fucking faggot stabbed me! I'm bleeding! I'm fucking bleeding!" Kelly's words came faster. Jackson, feeling the fury and confusion of the moment, stood stronger now. Shouting louder than the energy surrounding them, he bellowed, "Who wants more? Huh? Who? Who wants some, fuckers? Who?" His body shook with each word, and he jabbed the knife forward in front of him, stabbing at the air. The boys, white and terrorized, looked from Jackson to Kelly and back to Jackson again. The air hung thick. No one knew what to do. No one knew where to go.
Laney screamed. Her sound wrenched its way out of her throat and into the confusion around her. She let herself uncurl and look. Her fear was replaced with horror. It overtook her and she screamed louder now—even louder. She stood up, still screaming. The other boys looked at her, Kelly still bleeding on his knees sobbing, "I'm fucking cut! Cut! I'm fucking cut!" Jackson stood, centered by the ring of men, shaking. The knife trembled in front of him, stabbing the air in vain. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He'd not known, but together, he and Kelly were weeping. "Who wants some?" Jackson cried. Laney, screeching even more violently rose quickly in that instant and snatched Jackson from the center of the boys. No one moved. No one tried to. In a fury, Laney loosed the knife from Jackson's hands, popped the blade back into its sheath, and, screaming as loud as possible, ran, pushing Jackson in front of her, away from the boys.
Jackson, feeling the blade leave his grip and his body yank itself forward, jerked towards Laney's scream. Feeling Laney's shove still behind him, he picked up momentum and created his own speed. The crowd behind them gathered around Kelly, who was now fallen completely to the ground and sobbing, "I'm cut," he blathered, "Cut! The fucking faggots cut me." The boys, like small cherubs, nestled down around their friend and held him.
"Somebody call an ambulance!" one of them shouted, "Somebody get some help!"
Laney stopped screaming. Jackson shot ahead of her about five feet, "Come on!" he screamed, "Let's go!"
"I'm coming," Laney pleaded. The burn of her cut knee flew up her leg, "I'm coming!"
They ran across the football field and away from the school. The wind whipped at them as they ran. They were blind to the world around them. Their heads swirled with adrenaline. The ground beneath them pushed their legs into the safety of the field across from their high school and into the cornfields, which tore open. A few minutes later, further past the first cornfield and into another, they arrived at the old, abandoned barn. Certainly it was used by a lot of kids to hang out and party in because the inside was covered with graffiti, but Laney and Jackson had a way of always finding it empty. Today, like every other, it was theirs.
In the safety of the barn they came back to themselves, breathing heavily and letting their hands fall on their knees. They looked at one another panting. Laney smiled. She looked at Jackson. He smiled back and rushed into her, buckling her legs with his head. Laney fell backwards and landed on the dirt with Jackson's head in her stomach. Jackson grabbed at her, pushing her arms over her head.
"Bitch!" He spat at her. His saliva landed on her lips.
"Fuck you!" Laney hissed, and spat back into Jackson's eyes. Jackson laughed and let her spit slide down his cheek. Laney looked at him, half in despair. She struggled beneath the weight of him. "Get off me, Jackson!" she demanded, trying to jerk her way out from beneath him. Jackson's grip on her wrists tightened, and he held her almost without effort. He was twice her stature, and the more she struggled, the more he pushed his body into hers and squeezed. He felt the hardness in his crotch tighten.
In one swift movement, Jackson sat up quickly with his legs on the outside of Laney's and, without releasing her wrists, he spun her around to her stomach. She scratched at the ground frantically beneath the pressure of his squeeze. Her wrists were hurting and she started crying loudly, "Stop it, Jackson! Stop it! You're hurting me!" Jackson snarled and let his fist come down into the back of her head. Laney's face fell into the dirt. "Shut up!" he screamed, and pushed his check down into hers. Laney was dazed from the blow. It hurt.
"You're a dumb whore," He whispered, "You're just a dumb piece of white trash and a whore." He pushed his erection hard on into Laney's ass. Between the fabric of their clothes Jackson starting dry humping himself into her and grunting loudly. It was fake, his noise. He was exaggerating, mocking the scenario. Laney cried. "Don't," she said, "Please, Jackson! Please…" Jackson pushed his hand over her face, grinding her right cheek into the dirt. "How's that, whore?" he asked her, "How does that feel?" Jackson smeared his hand against her cheek harder. He leaned into her ear. "Whore," he crooned as he pumped his hard on into the fabric of her ass, "Dumb whore."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, "Why?" Jackson crooned softer into her ear. With his shoulders skillfully pressing hers into the ground beneath them, he fumbled beneath him to undo his jeans. Laney heard the metallic tumbling of his belt-buckle and shrieked.
"No!" she cried, "Jackson, stop it!"
"Whore!" Jackson insisted and threw his unencumbered pelvis into her. His erection raged. He let his legs push between Laney's and he started to push hers apart. Her black pixie-tights were worn slightly thin in the crotch, revealing patchy gray against the whiteness of her skin. Jackson grabbed the fabric and ripped. Laney wasn't wearing any underwear. Her ass was bare, smeared with mud and smooth. Jackson thrust himself against her again. Laney slithered around beneath him trying to escape the poke of his groin, "Jackson, please. Don't." She was weeping hard and speaking fruitlessly. Jackson spit on his hand, rubbed his cock, thrust it against her spread ass and pushed. The flesh tore open easily, and the tightness gripped Jackson fantastically. Laney screamed out and stopped, catching half of the sound in her throat as her head jerked upwards. Jackson was inside of her.
Slowly, Jackson began to move. His cock pulled out to the tip of its shaft and fell gracefully back inside the body beneath him. He crooned to Laney continually, "The whore likes it, doesn't she?" Laney, wet with snot, heard and not heard Jackson's words. The cock in her ass, pushing and pulling at her flesh, forced her into silence.
"Tell me," Jackson said, "Tell me now!"
"I love you!" Laney replied, and her ass fell up into Jackson's cock and met his thrust with its push. Together, they moved, Laney pushing into Jackson pulling Laney into him. His arms slipped under her shoulders and clasped behind her neck. Laney was in a full nelson, and Jackson pulled her torso up off the ground, with his cock slipping in and out of her, and reached his mouth around to hers. Laney's tongue was waiting and Jackson grabbed it and sucked hard. She grunted as Jackson sucked her kiss and fucked her ass. Jackson thrust once, twice more and held. Laney felt the throb of his shaft unload in her ass. She opened her eyes to see Jackson looking directly into her, their mouths locked and his body pouring into hers as he came.
Jackson pulled his finished cock out of Laney and fell back. She rolled her body over and landed on top of him. Their tumbled, dirt covered bodies embraced. "That was fantastic," Laney said. "I had no idea."
"I know," Jackson said, interrupting her. "That's why I thought you'd like it because it didn't fit."
"I did," Laney agreed. "I liked it a lot."
"Me too," Jackson said as his hands slid up and down her body. Laney was still aroused.
"Here, feel," Laney said, as she put Jackson's hand into her crotch.
"Let me take care of that for you," Jackson said with his hands between her thighs. He again rolled Laney to the ground and let his head fall just below her waist.
Afterwards, they decided that they needed to get out of town.
"Where are we going?" Laney asked Jackson.
"Where do you want to go?"
"I want you to take me out of here. Take me anywhere."
"You got it."
Jackson took Laney in his arms and kissed her deeply. He loved her, and she felt it.
