CHAPTER 9: Maybe someday

*JAMIN*

         “For the group project, the course rep is with the spreadsheet now, once it’s sent to you all, promptly meet with your group mates and get to work. Good luck.” With that, the professor ended his lecture for the day.

      I brought out my cellphone and opened the departmental official groupchat so I could go through the spreadsheet.

   We were four in numbers that would be working together. Obviously, even with seeing their names, I didn’t know who they were.

      I barely interacted with anyone in my class, I didn’t have the time too. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for them to locate me.

   As we introduced ourselves, I stared at my watch. It was almost time for my part time job.

         “I’d not be able to attend any meetings. But I just gave you my number to be added to the group chat. I’d always go through your messages and…you all can decide the topic and tell me my part via the group chat. I’ll make sure to work on it and I’ll be there on the day of the presentation.” I said in a rush.

  They looked displeased. “But…”

         “I gotta go. Bye.” With that, I hurried off.

I knew there were obviously going to talk badly about me, and I couldn’t blame them.

But it wasn’t my fault either. I had to work.

I couldn’t just relax because I got ten thousand dollars one time, I still had mountains of debts on my neck, I still had to take care of myself.

Plus, I wasn’t sure if I would meet up with the mister again.

*****************

      After rounding up my part time jobs that day, I got home late.

       Once I was done freshening up, I headed straight to my desk to catch up on my assignments.

     Just as I got started, my eyes flew to the picture frame on my desk.

It was of my mother and I. Sighing, I picked it up and stared at her.

It gets really lonely being on my own. And at times like this, I miss her so much. I wonder if she’s doing well.

I greatly hope she is. And that she’s happy.

      My early childhood was filled with both happy and sad memories. My mom made the happy memories and my dad made the sad ones.

       For as long as I can remember, he had been irresponsible, always drinking and gambling. He was always angry and he would most times take the anger out on my mom.

     I hated seeing her get abused by him in our tiny dilapidated apartment back then but there was nothing I could do. I was just a kid.

   Still, despite everything, she always tried to make me happy, singing to me, playing with me, taking me to school and back, telling me how much she loves me.

    When I was ten, it seemed she had enough and she packed up her things and left. I never hated her for leaving, I just wished she had taken me with her.

But I tried to understand. Perhaps, she couldn’t take care of me at that time.

Not that my dad could either. I had to learn how to fend for myself. And he started taking out his anger on me instead. I had hoped daily that my mother would come back and take me away from that hellhole.

   At thirteen, my father died. His alcoholic filled brain had walked right into a busy highway and he was ran over.

    My frail grandmother had to come over from the countryside then, she tried reaching my mom but couldn’t get a hold of her. On the day my dad was laid to rest, that was the first time the loan sharks came to me, informing me that my dad owed them a lot and I had to pay it back.

       I had stubbornly refused to give in. I even reported them to the police.

      I was just a middle schooler then, how on earth was I supposed to pay such amount? The police didn’t do anything to help. They said they couldn’t get involved.

Fuck you, Dad!

       It sucked to keep paying up debts I didn’t owe.

      In high school, I lost my grandma who had already been sick for years and so I had to start working part time. I really wanted to continue schooling. It felt like that was my only way out to give myself a good life someday.

    That was also when the beatings started. They would beat me to the point of passing out. There were a lot of times that I had thought I would die from the injuries.

      But I didn’t. So I had to work harder. Get whatever job I could find, while also studying.

      Even if I was paying them back, they called it “peanuts”, and they still came by occasionally to beat the hell out of me.

      It seemed they enjoyed doing that. Up until now, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve moved, they keep finding me, beating me up, destroying properties and even intimidating the landlords.

  And that always landed me a quit notice.

My life was quite shitty but I always tried to stay positive.

Maybe someday, I could turn my life around…for good.

   My phone buzzed, taking my mind away from those depressing memories.

   I realized that it was from the “app.”

From Mister.

  I reached for it.

Mister: [Table number 5, Morzi Restaurant, 8:pm tomorrow]

He wanted to meet up again?

It’s only been two days since…

I pursed my lips together.

Was I that sweet?

        “Don’t kid yourself, Jamin. He might kill you tomorrow.” My subconscious mocked.

I sighed.

I had barely recovered from his onslaught.

I’d consider myself lucky if he doesn’t paralyze me tomorrow.

Tomorrow?!

Was I seriously considering it again?

But what choice do I have?

There was nothing else I could do that would pay that much.

      I know I couldn’t clear my debts overnight but I could have a chance of paying them in big amounts and reducing the debts and maybe someday, I could pay it all.

     I didn’t intend to do this kind of thing for long though. I just had to do it for some time, reduce my debt massively and then…I do not know what comes after “then” though.

Besides, the sex wasn’t all that bad…

I mean… I had enjoyed it at some point before it became unbearable.

I shuddered as different images flashed through my head.

  

I had tried not to think about it all day because I still couldn’t believe I did that.

That I got fucked by a man.

   I would have liked it better if he had been gentle, I would have enjoyed it more.

I wouldn’t have been in so much pain.

But then again, the pain was what he liked. And this thing was for only his enjoyment, not mine.

I swallowed, recalling the way he manhandled me.

Oh boy, that man was fucking ripped in all areas.

His arms were bulky, muscular arms, he had sharp set of abs.

How many were they again?

Six? Eight?

  His firm pecs, coupled with his muscular legs, the Mister’s physique could quite easily have been drawn up from that of a Greek God.

He has such a solid, sturdy physique. And his…I was still frightened about how he was that big.

I really took him inside me…I can’t believe I didn’t die from taking that.

And when his cock stroke that spot inside of me…What was that spot called again?

It felt so…

  A tremor ran through me and I realized I was fucking hard right now.

Yep.

I’m gay.