“Fear is an emotion induced by a threat perceived by living entities, which causes a change in brain and organ function and ultimately a change in behavior, such as running away, hiding or freezing from traumatic events.”

I remember when I was younger.  There was this man that always loved to play with me.  Every night he waited for my mother to sleep and waited for the sounds of my footsteps down the stairs of my basement.  He wore nothing, his flesh was old and decaying.  He smelled nothing short of a corpse.  He smile was warm and welcoming, like and old grandpa would have looking at his nephew.  Except grandpa never touched me how he did.  The man told me it was compassion and love for me.  He would sit in this old rocking chair that looked to have aged better than he had.  He sat there with his phallus erect as he spread his legs for his usual welcoming.  At times I wasn’t quick enough to run upstairs and tell my mother not to come down.  He would swipe at me legs and kiss the back of my neck telling me that he loved me and not to feel fear.  He would rip down my drawers and play with my sacred area for what seemed hours.  And when he finished penetrating me he would send me back upstairs and told me to come back tomorrow.  It was hard to tell anyone that a figment of my imagination was raping me.  I couldn’t exactly tell mom that a senior citizen was f**king me every night.  Yet every night I did as he told me.  It wasn’t only fear alone that kept me coming back.  Being locked in a house all day for years takes a toll on the mind.  The man took away the loneliness, even though I hated our time together it was comforting.   I spent my days watching my mother playing with some sort of tube in her nose inhaling what looked like flour.  Whatever it was it gave her the biggest smile and the most beautiful laugh.  Yet for some reason she would never let me try it?  I never understood my mother, why she did the things she did the things she did.  As I was saying, one night I failed to meet my appointment with the ravisher.  I had been walking down the stairs but had forgotten to put the toys away.  I slipped on that fire truck that I had loved so much, only to be betrayed by the son of a b**** now.  I woke up the following day at the bottom of the stairs.  I examined myself in the mirror and swore I had a golf ball in my temple.  The color was a swirl of a darkish purple almost like a lavender.  I took aspirin and had woken up just in time for mother’s daily crazed laughter.  She would laugh at anything, and my head was the standing ovation of her day.  Her breakfast consisted of bourbon, her magical pixie dust, and more bourbon.  She loved it, depended on it, and lived for it.  That night when I went to bed the man wasn’t waiting for me.  Naturally I went to sleep, but was awoken by the noise of tears being shed.  It sounded like a widow weeping after being received a telegram. 
It grew louder and louder throughout the night.  These were the cries of no woman, but a man.  Some nights he would yell at me and call me the most disturbing things you could imagine.  Language even my own mother with her defects would not dare to speak.  Word after word would roll of his tongue for hour’s every night.  Little by little the words consumed me and soon cause anger.  A boy can only hold back his tongue before his mouth takes control.  One night I snapped, and when I did I didn’t stop.  I didn’t hold back and I would pay for it.  “I never gave you my body, you took it!”  I screamed in the night.  Suddenly it grew quite, too quiet and not long enough.  My room was dark but was pierced by the moonlight entering through my window.  I became to tremble, I knew what was next. I always knew what happened next.  I had forgotten to look under my bed.  My covers were suddenly thrashed to the floor and my arms were pulled back against the bed, and tied with barbed wire.  The man appeared from underneath the mattress and under the bed frame.  He quickly grabbed my camouflage pajama short and dismantled them from my legs and crouch.  He dragged his long yellow finger nails against my veins that followed the flexors in my arms.  He laughed and whispered “I never took your body, I took your mind and your sanity.”  He proceeded and grabbed his phallus and placed it in my mouth until erect.  Once he had finished preparing himself.  He slowly inserted himself between my ass cheeks and began to thrust.  As he grunted he dug his fingernails deep into my chest until blood busted.  As he continued with his copulation I turned as saw that his knot had become undone, and slowly so did the other.  I was done with his relations with me and wouldn’t have any more of his foreplay.  Quickly I attempted to gag myself in hopes of death, than I had a better idea.  I grabbed the fencing and wrapped it around the neck of the defiler and pulled both ends squeezing the wire deep into his flesh.  Blood smeared across my face and lost sight for a brief moment.  Instantly the man tugged at the wire as he was still on top of me.  Quickly I tied a knot to buy some time.  The man fell to the floor hands clenching his throat and choking on his own cruor.  I grasped the other piece of wire and frantically searched the room for something to harness it too.  While I searched I tripped and slammed onto my hand holding the wire.  The object that had snagged me was my T-ball bat.  Only problem was that my hand had been punctured by the fall.  I unthreaded the wire from the grooves of my fingers and wrapped it around my bat.  I returned to my bed side to see the man still in combat with the wire shrouded around his throat.  I lifted the bat and smashed it again his forehead.  His gore splattered against my arms and splashed my chest.  I lifted the bat from his row and disgorged at the sight, he laid immobile but he still had his smirk.  I lifted the bat once more and broke in his skull.  His claret burned like acid and was hotter than any flame.  It disintegrated my body tissues and obliterated the nerves in my arms and chest.  I fell to the floor from the affliction and went into shock.  The room was filled was the smell of decay as if a rat and just walked in and died on my floor.  The man’s body rose and sat next to me.  Only this time he wore a suit.  He grabbed my face and told me that his relations with me had finished.  He brushed my hair and slowly vanished.  Of all the things I had encountered that night.  The most unthinkable was the man’s disappearance.  Days passed, weeks, months.  I never saw his anatomy again.  At least the man was honorable to his word.
The older you become the stronger the sensations.  Its incurable and so no treatment or medicine can cure it.  But the hard liquor worked as an aspirin.  From time to time a few shots can shut up the damn voices in my head.  I guess my mother and I had something in common.  My mother would only say my name for one reason, “Tyler, bring me some more of the snow I left on the counter!”  I’m still amazed that she remembers my name.  I wonder if my mother ever smiled before she had a tunnel in her nose.  Cocaine was my mother’s antidote and booze was her son’s pacifier.  And I was fine with that, because I didn’t care.  I stopped caring years ago, my sympathy for her pain and insanity had vanished.  It hadn’t when she had brought one man too many in her room.  It had happened when she told me that the way things were, were because of me.  How life would be beautiful without my little light.  The night she had told me that, she brought this Neanderthal into her room.  She was as high as the clouds, but he had only had three or four shots.  The combination favored him and quickly put my mother in a predicament that she quickly came to regret.  That night she screamed out my name more times than she had in all my life.  I didn’t hear here I didn’t want to, I didn’t fucking care if he was on top of her.  If he was holding her down, abusing her, hell I wouldn’t have cared if he killed her.  If I had known better I would’ve thought that my father had returned and he was making all the commotion.  Rather than intervening with couple, I quenched my thirst instead.  I had some Jack Daniels kept in the closest for my late night binge.  Four to five swigs usually did the trick before all the commotion melted away.  When I didn’t have my alcohol I had my weed, when I didn’t have my weed…  I would most surely have my weed.