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Michael Louis Calvillo
FIRST EDITION Bleed For You © 2010 by Michael Louis Calvillo Cover Artwork © 2010 by Zach McCain All Rights Reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. DELIRIUM BOOKS P.O. Box 338 North Webster, IN 46555 www.deliriumbooks.com Author Acknowledgements: As always, I’d like to thank my family, friends, and students for their continued support. I’d also like to extend an extra special thanks to Shane Staley and the Delirium team for the opportunity.
Michelle—I bleed for you forever.
“The one who loves you, will make you weep.” —Argentine Proverb
1 Beauty And The Freak
“What’s up, dickface?” Freddy kept his eyes glued to the book. He gripped his pen tightly and leaned on his notepad with defensive purpose. Ray Stern was undeterred by the tense body language. Same for his sidekick, Jimmy Lowe. If anything, Freddy’s anxiety egged them on. Despite the absolute quiet of the library, 5
Bleed For You they took turns lobbing insults at full volume. Miss Camille, the eightytwo year old librarian, didn’t notice a thing. The old biddy kept her hearing aids off for most of the work day. She said it helped her concentrate on the never ending pile of paperwork growing like an incurable tumor on her desk. “Is all that reading and writing getting your pussy wet?” Jimmy was fond of accusing Freddy of having a vagina. He’d been doing it since the sixth grade, right after he heard one of the cartoon cutouts on South Park do it to one of its cartoon cutout friends (though Jimmy and Freddy were anything but friends). Even after Freddy went away for a year, then came back, assholes like Jimmy picked up their bullying right where they left off. “Is it making your dick nose hard?” Ray liked to compare his 6
Michael Louis Calvillo nose to a penis. Freddy wasn’t sure where the genius dreamed that one up. Most insults were grounded in some sort of truth. Sure, his nose was large, it made his whole face look like it was insistently pointing, and it was probably one of the main reasons life christened him a dork, but it looked nothing like a phallus. It was thick and bulbous and oily and wide, not cylindrical and long. Freddy figured he’d have no trouble putting together a solid comeback, somehow remarking on the shape of Ray’s penis and his confusion as to what a penis was supposed to look like, laughing at him for comparing his jock-god-member to Freddy’s nerd defining nose, but, well, he was used to the verbal abuse and he’d rather weather stupid insults than punishing fists. “Come on, Fred-dick, read that shit! Oh! Oh! Yes! Yes!” Jimmy made 7
Bleed For You lewd moaning noises and humped the table opposite Freddy’s chair. Ray reached over and ripped the book and notepad from his grasp. Freddy tried to hold on to his things, but the bully got a decent grip and yanked them free. He threw the notepad to Jimmy, and then the two of them mock-fucked his school supplies, grinding the book and notepad against their crotches. “Oh, Fred-dick!” Ray yelped in a gravelly falsetto, “Fuck me with your big ass dick nose!” Freddy gripped his pen even tighter and dreamed about ramming it deep into Ray Stern’s meathead neck. He envisioned a fountain of arterial spray ruining the fucker’s Tutnam high school Tiger’s football jersey, soaking the brilliant white sport shirt to sopping pink-red mess. Instead, he kept his eyes on the table, 8
Michael Louis Calvillo and waited for the idiots to finish violating his things. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Emily Peters, the hottest chick in the twelfth grade, quite possibly the hottest chick in all of Tutnam City, maybe even the hottest chick in all of Tutnam County, entered the library and fast-walked over to his rescue. She whisper-yelled, “Ray!” then sat her pink shoulder bag on the table near Freddy and snatched the book from the gyrating fool’s pumping pelvis. Maintaining that respectful library whisper, she chided, “Leave him alone!” She pinched Ray’s arm (hard) then crossed her arms and held the book close to her chest. Freddy looked up from choking on the pen. To be that book. He smirked at the hot thought. Emily noticed and gave him a half smile. Freddy quickly 9
Bleed For You dropped his eyes back to the table. “Babe?!” Ray rubbed his arm, feigning pain. “My throwing arm! That shit hurt! We’re just screwing with him.” Jimmy stopped humping the notepad and threw it on the table. “Yeah, Em, we’re building his character. Putting hair on the little guy’s tits.” She glared at the jocks then sat in the chair next to Freddy and put his book back in front of him. He gave her a sidelong glance then reopened the book and searched for the page he was reading before the holocaust of fools interceded. Ray and Jimmy simply stared down at them until Emily rolled her eyes and said, “Bye.” “Really? What the hell, Em?” Ray held his hands out at his sides and waved her over. Emily sighed and got up. She gave him a weak hug and a quick peck on 10
Michael Louis Calvillo the cheek then returned to her chair. “Better. Damn.” The jock-o rolled his head on his shoulders and cracked his neck. “So? Seven, right?” Emily nodded then narrowed her eyes. She repeated, “Bye.” Ray jokingly narrowed his eyes back. He tried to stare her down, but then blinked and gave up. “Geez. Hardcore. All right. Good. Let’s go, J. We gotta get out of here before we catch whatever Em’s little homo study buddy’s got.” He patted Jimmy’s stomach then pump faked a smack to his balls. The two idiots play fought their way out of the library. Freddy pretended to resume reading. Emily messed with her shoulder bag a bit then scooted her chair closer to his. Turing a page, he whispered, “I take it you didn’t tell him.” The proper library voice wasn’t really neces11
Bleed For You sary, but etiquette was etiquette. Emily didn’t answer. She rolled her eyes as if to say duh then unzipped her bag and dug through it. She brought out a spiral notebook and a math book and then got down to some Algebra II. They worked in silence for a few minutes, him pretending to read, her pretending to formulate, until Freddy sighed loudly and looked over. He stared and stared until Emily sighed back and broke down. “Okay, Freddy!” She whisperyelled. “I’ll do it tonight. God.” She shuffled a few papers in her notebook then went back to pretending to work. Freddy watched her for another minute. He muttered, “You promised three weeks ago.” Emily pushed her book away. “Tonight, okay? I promise. Tonight.” 12
Michael Louis Calvillo They stared at each other until frustration and annoyance collapsed into a pair of smirking smiles. Freddy rode their improving mood and pushed. “What?” “What, what?” Emily reached over and brushed some errant strands of hair behind his right ear. “What are you going to do tonight?” She shook her head then smiled brighter. “Ask him to marry me.” “Hey!” “Well? What do you think, idiot? I’m gonna break up with him.” “And?” Freddy drummed a few fingers on the table. “Come on, Freddy!” she grabbed his fingers and stilled them then asked, “And what?” He just stared. Emily sighed again. “Yes, I’ll tell him about us.” 13
Bleed For You “You will?” “I said I will.” She grabbed his face and looked him in the eyes. “I will.” She gave him a nice peck on the lips then went back to pretending to work. Freddy got himself resituated with his book and began taking notes in his notepad. After a moment he stopped. “It’s been over three months, you know?” She put her pencil down and smiled. “I know.” He smiled back. “And?” She batted her eyelashes at him. Freddy giggled. “Oh, it’s my turn for the third degree, huh? Okay. I’ll bite. And what?” “And what does my sweet man have planned for our four month anniversary?” Shrugging, he sidled a little closer. “Make an honest man out of me and 14
Michael Louis Calvillo we’ll see.” He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek then got back to his book. Emily drew a little heart in the bottom corner of her notebook then looked up. “An honest man?” “Yep.” “I don’t think you’re using the term correctly.” “Well, right now I’m a big fucking secret so—” She cut him off before he could bring their conversation back round to the problem at hand. “No, not this, not our situation—making an honest man out of you would imply marriage.” “Well, you tell the world about us and maybe that’s how I meant it… Maybe in a few years. After school. At college.” Emily rocked her chair even closer until their shoulders touched. She 15
Bleed For You drew another frilly heart, this one on Freddy’s notepad and then filled it in and thickened the outline. She nodded at some notes Freddy had made on his paper. “What’s this?” “Research.” She pointed her pencil at the words Virgin Blood. “Working on an autobiography?” “Funny.” “Not funny…sad.” She made a silly, pouty face. “I’m proud of my virgin blood.” Freddy smiled. He was, but then, he really wasn’t. “Well, you never know, do you?” Emily licked her lower lip. “What?” She looked around then moved in real, real close, her face to his ear and said, “Virgin blood. You play your cards right I might be able to help you out with that. Dirty you up a little.” 16
Michael Louis Calvillo She kissed his ear lobe then leaned back in her chair. Freddy swallowed a lump and wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. Suddenly the library burned at about a million degrees. “Really though? What is all this?” Emily made a sweeping motion at the open book and the notepad and then honed in on another phrase jotted on Freddy’s paper. “I bleed for you forever?” “Oh. That one is for you…I-I was thinking about you…” Freddy blushed. “The rest is research. Dugan’s class. I’m doing my paper on Lady Bathory, the Blood Countess of Cachtice. She murdered six hundred and fifty virgins and bathed in their blood.” “Sounds fun.” “Yeah.” Freddy pointed at the book. “She was searching for eternal 17
Bleed For You life. The purity of virgin’s blood is rumored to have life sustaining properties. It’s been used in tribal, blood rituals to raise the dead and in Lady Bathory’s case—” Emily raised a hand to stop him. “Okay, my geek meter is going off.” Freddy wilted. “Relax. I think it’s cute. Just not… Anyway…What are you doing this evening?” “Lady Bathory.” He held up the book and rolled his eyebrows. “You should get out. Do something. Go bowling. You used to love bowling. I don’t like the idea of my boyfriend sitting around his depressing room reading depressing shit about dried up old ladies and virgin’s blood.” “I don’t like the idea of my girlfriend going out with her other boyfriend.” 18
Michael Louis Calvillo Emily flared her eyes and pushed her chair back a few inches. “To break up with him!” She closed her math book. “I’m not talking about it anymore, Freddy.” He put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I just get fucking jealous.” An uncomfortable silence lingered for a second or two. Emily shrugged his hand off then said, “Good,” and started packing her things. It was tough to keep it together. He wanted her so bad. It sucked to keep everything in, but…Women… Or rather…Woman. What could he do? Emily was his first girlfriend ever. That she looked like a model was super intimidating and that she held all the cards in their relationship was super emasculating. But Freddy had never experienced anything like her and he didn’t want to lose her. It wasn’t ideal, but he had to put up 19
Bleed For You with whatever crap she dished out and he had to wait for her to break it off with Ray. He had to hang in there and keep her happy. Evening his tone, he let it go and asked, “We still on for Sunday?” “Are we?” Emily looked him in the eyes. As sweet as she was, she was a man-eater through and through. “Yes.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely.” The tension flittered away and they shared a smile. Emily shouldered her bag and got up. “I better get going.” She leaned down and touched her amazingly luscious lips to his forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow—No, tonight. Late. When I get home, okay?” Freddy nodded. She smiled and then started to walk off. He called her back. “Em?” “Yeah?” 20
Michael Louis Calvillo “I’ll talk to you soon.” Emily nodded and waved then headed for the exit. Sinking into his chair, Freddy closed his book and sighed. His chest throbbed. A little thrum of pain hammered with each blood pumping palpitation of his heart. He muttered, “Love you, girl,” wincing in time with the vicious love that ate at his soul like a cancer. He spun his pen in his hand and wondered what it would feel like to jam it deep into one of his eyes.
2 The Chrysalis
This LOVE shit sucked major donkey dick. It wormed its way into his brain and festered like an insatiable, parasitic filter. Everything that passed through it came out twisted and raw and wrong. Freddy did what he always did—he read and watched movies and played video games, but nothing resonated unless it reminded him of her or somehow referenced 22
Michael Louis Calvillo unrequited love or gushy, romantic bullshit. He never cared about anyone like he cared about Emily. When he was away for doing that thing he thought about a lot of shit and he had a lot of time to take stock of his emotional meter (the doctors insisted—understanding feeling and emotion were the keys to being discharged). He loved his mama (sort of), and his dad (sort of), and his remaining grandma (sort of) and on and on (sort of), but that was it. Sort of. They were family, bound by blood, routines and holidays. He had no choice but to love them. But he did love them. He told the doctors he loved them and in doing so, he proved himself capable of love. He loved. He understood feeling and emotion. And they released him back in to the wild. But now this? 23
Bleed For You This was way different. This was epic. And it hurt like hell. And it drove him crazy. And sometimes it made him want to open his wrists with the Sweeney Todd replica razors he got for a Halloween costume he never wore. He always wondered what it’d be like to be in love, to be held, to be kissed, but he figured his goofy face and his odd interests would keep him in the dark, but now here he was, six months out of an institution, still weird, still nerdy, but loving, and loved in return (sort of), and it was wonderful and hellish and scary all at the same time. But then, it felt SO, SO good that little tingly worms of electric fire danced about his nerve endings and set his balls a-tingle whenever he closed his eyes and thought of Em24
Michael Louis Calvillo ily’s eyes, or her lips, or her smile, or her kiss. Trying to finish The Bloody Countess: Atrocities of Erzsebet Bathory was a damn near impossible feat. Freddy read a page, two, three, then had to flip back and reread a page, two, three. The Countess’s story was enthralling stuff. She ruled a small empire in the late fifteen-hundreds while her husband was at war and she did an excellent job lording over her kingdom and mitigating matters of the peasantry, but rumors of atrocity within her castle walls brought in Hungarian authorities. Bathory was arrested for the murder of hundreds upon hundreds of adolescent girls. Rumor had it she enslaved, tortured, and then ultimately bled them in the hope their vitality would keep her young. Freddy googled artist’s renditions of the lady in action and 25
Bleed For You found many depicting women of all shapes and sizes, lounging in baths of all shapes and sizes, luxuriating in the blood of virgins. Except now, every time he got around to reading the book, he’d get a similar picture in his head—only his version featured Emily, completely nude, lounging in scarlet pools. The girl would not let up. She pirouetted through his mind, ravaging logic and forward thought, wrecking him from the inside out. She smiled sensually. She kissed him ferociously. The derailing fantasies incited erotic overload. He put the neglected book on his night stand and attended to his raging boner. Emily filled his inner brain. She took off her dream shirt, slipped out of her dream skirt, and let him have his way with her. Everything got too hot. 26
Michael Louis Calvillo Time stopped. Freddy tensed, ruptured, and then softened to a guilty little lump in his wet hands. After cleaning up, he tried to give The Bloody Countess another shot, but his mind refused to buckle down. It hiccupped and spouted image after image of his girl out with her guy. The scenario made him sick to his stomach. He slammed the book back on the nightstand and stared at The Texas Chain Saw Massacre poster thumb tacked to his bedroom door. If only a crazy family would come along, hack Ray Stern up into itty bitty pieces, and stir him into their prize-winning chili. * * *
So then, Friday nights, were generally reserved for reading horror 27
Bleed For You novels, writing screwed up stories, watching horror videos, surfing the internet, and whacking off (pre-Emily he had a legion of scream queens stored in his reptile brain), but the past three months really threw him off track. Dating (not dating) really screwed him up. Stupid ass Ray Stern was Tutnam high’s star quarterback. The varsity team usually played Friday nights and though Emily had to make a supportive appearance, she had managed to make up an acceptable excuse and cut out the past three weeks in a row. Fridays suddenly became something shiny and new. They went to a movie theater two cities over, and then a Barnes & Noble three cities over, and then a Scandia Miniature Golf Course an hour up the freeway. Each illicit moment was pure bliss. Freddy was looking forward to to28
Michael Louis Calvillo night, but the Tutnam Tigers had some kind of schedule change and they played their game on Thursday instead. Ray insisted Emily spend the evening with him (which wouldn’t have even been an issue if she broke up with him like she was supposed to). Freddy was left out in the cold. And suddenly, staying home just didn’t cut it. Suddenly, it felt like the walls of his humongous bedroom (his parents owned a mini-mansion) were closing in on him. Suddenly, he wanted more. Suddenly, his room felt like the prison it was. He spent his entire high school career, ninth thru the first half of twelfth grade, in the godforsaken room (well, except for when he was away). He had zero friends and zero options (partially his fault—he blew off his geeky counterparts freshmen year and lost any new friends after his 29
Bleed For You breakdown), but life was what you made of it and he was finally coming out of his Lexapro shell. The chrysalis was hatching. He started dating Emily and he stopped taking his meds and he was sick of wasting away among his horror idols and heavy metal heroes. If he could hang in his room alone, he could hang in the real world alone. Right? It was time to break his pathetic exile. What was Emily always telling him? Get out, do something, go bowling, have fun, live. Live. He liked that. After years of wallowing in angst it sounded right. Abandoning the Bathory book for a second time, he threw on a Marilyn Manson hoodie, flashed a pair of dev30
Michael Louis Calvillo il horns at the Ministry poster tacked above his bed, grabbed his bowling bag, and then got the fuck out of purgatory. * * *
Make no mistake, Freddy was a bowling god. His parents got him started on the game at age seven and he took to it immediately. He played in leagues and kicked serious ass on a number of tournament winning teams until he hit fifteen and freaked out and killed those kittens and puppies and went crazy with feces and got locked away in the loony bin. Whatever. Bowling was for dorks anyway. He felt weird enough, he was weird enough. Carrying around a bowling bag or sporting bowling shoes while asshole jocks called him a “fag” only 31
Bleed For You exasperated the fact. Nobody in high school, not a soul, thought it was cool, and even though he told himself he didn’t care about what anybody else thought, he couldn’t help but to feel stupid. Which was a horrible shame, because knocking down pin after pin filled him with nostalgic joy. That he still had it, that he bowled three near perfect games, made him feel like the biggest douche bag in the world. What the hell was he thinking walking away from the only thing he was good at? Though it sucked bowling alone, while cheering families cheered and groping daters groped, it felt good to be back. * * *
Michael Louis Calvillo Cruising up University Avenue on his faded, yellow, 1980 Honda PA50 Hobbit II moped, Freddy smiled from ear to ear. Since he started tutoring Emily, a gig his math teacher forced him to take, the cold that roped through his bones, and twisted his face into a permanent scowl, and insisted everyone and everything sucked, had begun to thaw. Maybe his therapists were right after all. Maybe the world at large wasn’t the problem. Idling at a stoplight, reflecting upon epiphany, he noticed Ray’s red, Dodge Charger turn into the intersection and then rumble up Mountain Street. Emily’s distinctively sexy silhouette blurred from the passenger’s seat. Tonight was the night. Tonight she was going to dump his ass. He hated seeing her in Ray’s car, 33
Bleed For You but Freddy took comfort in this being their last date; he couldn’t wait to have her all to himself. But then…Mountain Street led to The Lookout. And though he’d never actually been, everybody knew what went down at The Lookout. Why the hell were they going to The Lookout? Either Ray couldn’t take no for an answer or Emily wasn’t keeping her promise. Whatever the case, jealousy destroyed Freddy’s cheery disposition and swallowed his mind. Once the stoplight turned green, he gunned his ancient moped and followed them up the twisty slope.
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