Rating: Adults Only
Category: Fanfiction
Characters: Brian Kinney, Justin Taylor
Genres: Angst, AU, POV, Drama, Romance
Warnings: OOC
Summary: Brian is 35 and still fighting his childhood demons.
Disclaimer: All characters and situations from Queer as Folk are properties of Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, Showtime, and others. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is rated by the author and not by any independent body.
Brian looked ahead, seeing straight into Nicky’s eyes. He knew his feelings were returned. They were good together. They had come a long way. He pulled Nicky’s love around him like the sweater he always knew would be warm and safe. Brian felt his shoulder’s relax and found his mind wander back…..
March 1985
Brian POV
I realize the pain will continue forever. How do I make it stop? He will never let me go. I see the pleasure in his eyes when he hurts me. He fucking loves it. The corners of his mouth become tight and I even feel his whole body tense to make the blows that little bit harder. He says I ruined his life but I know that is only an excuse. What difference did I make? He still does what he wants when he wants. He still has his women on the side. He stays out all night and works all day. He says he should never have been a family man but I can’t see that he has been. Not ever. My mother hides in the warm safe sea of her religion. Jack is her cross to bear, her ticket into heaven. If she suffers enough in this life her God will love her twice as much in the next. She never stops him. She doesn’t hide me. In fact she has even called me to him. I know she must hate me. When I was small I cried in pain and as I grew, I cried for the life I knew I would never have. The feelings of warmth and safety and love. I wonder how it feels to wear someone’s love around you like a sweater, surrounding you keeping you warm. I’ve seen the way Mikey’s Mom looks at him. She beams when anyone mentions his name. She is proud of him and she loves him. Nothing he could do would make her stop loving him. That’s what parents do, don’t they?
I wonder what I did. There must have been something. Maybe some people aren’t supposed to be loved. I don’t remember. When I was small he would hit my head against the floor. Sometimes even today my head aches and I still feel him, with his fingers twined in my hair bashing my forehead against the rug in the parlor. He only did it once without the rug and had to keep me home from school for a week. He uses the rug to make sure I don’t bruise, and then no one will know. Not at school, not at work, not at church. Our secret. The only thing my parents and I share.
He’s getting tired now. The blows are farther between. Soon he’ll be asleep and I’ll go to Mikey’s. His Mom will help me. I think I’m really hurt this time. I can feel the blood running down my chest soaking my shirt. He has hold of me by the shirt. I think he is tired. He’s pushes me away and only kicks me twice in the ribs. As he goes to bed he mutters how if I died he would get his first good sleep in years. I wish he would be sorry the next day. We studied alcoholism at school and they’re usually sorry the next day but my dad never is. I know it must be me. I’m not sure what I do though. I pick myself up off the floor and creep to the doorway. I can hear him snoring. It’s safe. I move as fast as I can down the hall and the stairs. I hold my ribs. I need to cough but I can’t. I’m worried it will wake them but now I can’t breathe. I’ll never make it to Mikey’s. I have to. Brian I say to myself, get up! I need to keep going and reach down deep inside myself. I will my heart to stop racing and start to breathe again. I can feel the pain. I push it away to a small corner deep inside myself. I bury it there. I will never think of tonight again. I will go to Deb’s and get cleaned up. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except living through tomorrow. I can do this. I’m strong. He’s been beating me every day all my life and I’m still here and I will make it through the next. I always get through. I tell myself I don't care if no one loves me. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I have enough pain in my life. I will never let anyone hurt me. When I am older and I get away, I will never go back.
I’m nearly there. I knew I would make it. My mouth is full of blood. I need to spit it up. It feels like I’m choking. My breath is short again. I need to climb the stairs to the porch. I lean against the bell.
The lights go on and I hear Deb thundering down the stairs. The door swings open and I say “I’m sorry” as I fall inside. My eyes close and I don’t feel anything anymore.