Tales of the Hood Read Online Free Page B

caused. Those few minutes seemed more like hours. After Holly’s unknown accomplice was satisfied he pulled up his garments and dragged Maurice to his feet like a rag doll. He looked so limp. For the first time in my life; in all the years I have known Maurice, I saw him cry uncontrollably. Floods of tears ran down his cheeks, filled with hatred and humiliation. When he was able to stand up straight I saw the blood drip from between his legs, staining the carpet dark red. I couldn’t feel any feelings anymore. I couldn’t think any thoughts anymore. I saw his fists clenched but he was too stiff to throw a punch. He was tensed up tightly and you could see that he wouldn’t mind staying like that forever. I think any movement he made would have let him know that this was real. This really did just happen.
    â€œPut your clothes back on batty boy!” Holly spat.
    The guys that were pinning me down let go and left, slamming the door behind them. It was over just like that. I steadily got up, hands still tied and eyes blistering. The man who had just stolen my friend’s dignity stood beside Holly, and I saw the size of him properly. Maybe just in case we tried to throttle her. He watched Maurice get dressed and then cut the rope that bound both our hands together.
    â€œYou can leave now,” he said, pointing a gun at us as we walked away. None of us wanted to do anything. Everything had already happened. Was there really a point in retaliating and probably receiving a bullet in the chest after all we’d just been through? As we walked away their evil laughter pierced my back; made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and made my eyes water even more. I asked myself:
how much pain am I going to experience?
Was karma really the bitch people said it was? Moments before we left the way we entered the guy stood up. “Oi!” he called smugly. As we peered over our shoulder he took off his ski mask and revealed his devilish image. I never would have thought. Never!
    ***
    We strolled home in silence. I couldn’t bear to catch sight of his eyes. To think that I just watched the closest thing to a brother get raped by the guy that I believed killed my mum. I didn’t know what to think; what to do; where to turn. We arrived at Maurice’s house after the lengthy walk in which we still hadn’t shared a word. He limped straight upstairs, had a shower and locked himself in his room. I felt so remorseful whether I had tried my best or not. I went in the bathroom and stripped bare, analysing the dents and wounds. I stood in the shower and let the hot water escape over my frail body. I was tender all over. My eyes, back, head, everywhere! The events that took place that night would be unforgettable. It was embedded in my mind. People like us don’t condone that. You could call it homophobic - call it what you like - it just weren’t right! And Holly; don’t get me started on Holly! If she loved him so much, why would she let someone do that? How could she set him up in such a way? My skin began to shrivel as I took time trying to piece together the puzzle that frustrated me so much. My head was hurting too much to make real sense of anything so I came out, got dressed and went to lie down in bed. It felt first-class to put my head down. As silence surrounded me I heard Maurice sobbing in the bedroom next door, but I couldn’t take it. I got back up and walked to his room door but I couldn’t go in. What could I possibly say to make things better? I couldn’t blame him after what he had been through. I was torn up and I only watched it happen. It’s a common stereotype that tough boys weren’t meant to cry. As a tear rolled down my face I realised we weren’t as tough as we thought. We actually weren’t tough at all in this instance.
    ***
    The next morning I was in the kitchen making breakfast. I hadn’t eaten for days and it was starting to