Fragile Bones

By Tressa Green

Abandoned on the streets as a youth, Nathan endures with quiet stoicism all the horrors that the back alleys bring. On a night much like any other, he is picked up by a mysterious stranger and brought into a whole new world where he could learn to live again.

A destiny far greater than he could've ever imagined awaits. But first, Nathan must relive all the atrocities visited upon his frail body, overcome his dark past and come to accept and love himself before he can move on.

Fragile Bones is not for the faint of heart. Enter Nathan's bleak world of torment and pain -- travel with him into the blackest parts of human nature and find with him the immutable spark within all of us that can never be quenched.

"I simply could not put it down until I had devoured the whole story." -- 5 star review on Amazon.

"A little freakish, haunting, but fantastic and more of a story than even I had expected it to be." -- 5 star review on Goodreads.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tressa Green
• Release date: Oct 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781453822050

Tressa Green

Tressa Green is the author of The Summer of the Frogs and Fragile Bones. (Read more reviews for both on Amazon.) The second novel in the seasons series, The Fall of the Cicadas, is finished and in beta; publication is planned for Fall of 2020. The third, The Winter of the Birds, is 3/4 finished with a tentative Winter 2020-21 publication. A companion novel to Fragile Bones is the works, as well as a new novel (working title- You from Adam).As well as having a passion for the written word, she is also an award winning pencil artist. Tressa currently resides as a full time writer in the temperamental clime of North-central Indiana along with her husband, two of three children, (the oldest is grown), and a clutter of feisty felines.

Book preview

Fragile Bones

By T. D. Green

Copyright 2011 T. D. Green

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover and interior art by T. D. Green

Table of Contents

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Part Two

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

PART ONE

Chapter One

It was one of those nights. The kind that kept even the rats under shelter. Wind and stinging rain. The crack-boom of thunder that rattled your bones. And I recklessly leaned against a street sign trying to keep a cigarette lit in the downpour. The icy rain seemed to find every vulnerability in the thin protection of my clothes. I tried very hard to keep my teeth from chattering and failed miserably. I was nineteen and stuck. Stuck in the sodden, putrid, rotting pit of a purposeless life.

I sucked the last bit of life out my drenched cigarette, flicked it away and pulled my soaked jacket tight up around my neck. As if it would've done any good - wet to the skin and chilled to the bone. I imagined the sick reddish light from the street lamp made my already thin face into something gruesome. Hollows carved deeply under my eyes and cheekbones. Once bright baby blues, dull from poor living, stared cold and empty.

You didn't ever, ever live on the streets - that was a misnomer. One merely survived. That was all. The ones who clung to any sort of hope of salvation ended up shortly dead. Either dead in the physical sense or the emotional sense. Which equated to the same thing. Even I realized that. Survival. To continue living no matter to what depths of depravity you had to stoop. And stoop I did.

So, I stood propped up against a street sign in the pouring rain, hugging myself tightly in a childlike effort to keep warm, then He appeared. His large coat wrapping around me, pulling me tight to His warm body, like I really was a child. Grateful for the warmth and the cessation of rain trickling down my skin, I followed where He guided.

There's only two options for a street boy that looked as pretty as a girl. You either got your brains fucked out or beat out of you. Either option's completely acceptable. I could handle it... had handled it many times. Either one. Although, I, of course, preferred the former. At least there was a temporary warmth from another straining body as you got fucked into the ground. And pulled, sore muscles kept you warm even up to an hour after. Yes, I much preferred to be fucked up the ass than to just be fucked up.

He guided me toward something unknown and I couldn't've cared less. Just that I'd be out of the rain and warm, even for a little while. We stopped in front of something shiny and black. A car door swung open and He nearly tossed me in head first. I had the grace to stifle a grunt when I landed on the soft seat inside. Heated air, blowing from the vents, blasted me in the face and I sighed.

Such rare luxury! I allowed the embrace of warm air to caress my frigid flesh. He slid in next to me and pulled me into His embrace, not seeming to mind that I got His clothing wet. I couldn't help but snuggle in closer. Not caring one iota about what He planned to do with me. Just that I wasn't cold anymore. The car pulled away from that dark, lonely place and I didn't even glance back.

Even if I died that night, it didn't matter. I think I would've been more relieved than anything else. Nineteen years was plenty. Half of that spent in the gutter that served as humanity's backside. And even that didn't get wiped as good as the asses that took a shit on our kind.

He never said a word during that long ride to wherever. Just light, absentminded caresses that tickled my scalp as fingers combed through my wet hair. Strings of black that inevitably stuck across my face and tangled in my lashes. I found the motion of His hand touching me oddly soothing. No one had ever touched me like that. My comfort never important to anyone, not even myself.

A strange sensation tugged at me from deep within. Emotion got you killed. Yet... there it was. A weird, almost frightening feeling - curiosity. I tried to swat that foreign invasion away, but it refused to budge. Something strange was happening, and I realized that a push of air and a constriction of my throat brought a sound out of my mouth. A voice. My own rough voice speaking. I hadn't heard it for so long, except for sometimes when a scream was involuntarily ripped out when I was being treated particularly nasty.

Wha-?

Such an intelligent sounding question, even to my own ears.

I sensed His smile in the darkness, and His grip around me squeezed just a bit. Meant to be reassuring, I assumed. Although, I'm not sure why He would've thought I cared about being comforted. Still, I held to that, for some reason, even against my best judgment. Outwardly nice meant the worst kind of evil within. Or so I had learned from my limited experiences. I almost cringed.

The car slowed to a stop. He untangled our limbs; His warmth gone. I shivered even in the overly heated confines of the vehicle. My bones always slow to take and hold heat. I sat alone for God knew how long. Sat there staring out into empty space. My brain a complete blank as always. Survival is instinct - thinking a luxury very few of us could afford. Thinking led to pain. Pain to death. Even if I was already a walking dead thing.

The door opened and a blast of freezing cold and biting rain sheeted in before He pulled me out from the car's womb. Everything around me blurred in a haze. If I'd cared enough to look closely, I might've gasped with wonder, but what can the dead see and be affected by? My surroundings were gray lines and shapes and shadows. Inconsequential.

I climbed a run of wide, shallow steps leading to a door that squeaked open before me. I didn't need to be coaxed ahead through that portal. Warmth beckoned, as did the intoxicating smell of food. Actual hot, fresh food. It wafted down from somewhere within to greet my nose, which I tipped upward to inhale deeply. I must've sighed or maybe my stomach grumbled, because I thought I heard Him chuckle nearby. I had forgotten Him already. I glanced up to see Him at my shoulder. His face glowing with the kindness in a small half-smile. I didn't recognize the expression at all.

He pushed gently at the small of my back and we moved forward down a long, dimly lit hall. The heady smell of food grew stronger and my feet moved eagerly. A hand halted my progress and turned me through another door which closed with a snap behind me. The food scent cut off. I felt vaguely disappointed, but it was no different from when a roach coach drove by and the strong flavors would carry over the stench. Licking my lips with a yearning every time it passed. I licked my lips there in that room too. My head tilted down, but I looked up through lowered lashes. He lifted my chin, forcing me to stare right into His eyes. The sheer force of that steady gaze jolted me. Depths of incomprehensible things swirled around in those clear, mesmerizing orbs.

I'm not sure how I kept from wilting away. His thumb brushed across my cheek. Instinct, again, had me leaning into the touch with a small sigh. I knew this. There had been a few times when a kinder man would find me and getting rammed up the ass would be a bit less than unpleasant. A few tried to be as gentle as possible, so I figured He was one of those. Soft caresses, fluttering kisses before getting fucked into sweet oblivion.

Every once in a while, I would wake up to find a small bit of money left behind as a token. I could never figure out why. I was never grateful or happy about it. It just was a curious thing. What did they owe me? Of course, I never realized it wasn't so much for me as it was for them. To ease their guilty conscience for using me so. They would have no way of knowing it was impossible for me to care. But they could afford emotions like guilt, all I had was the vague curiosity that would nudge at me off and on.

I stood in front of Him. His hand on my face, clear eyes stripping my soul down to threads, and I had a fucking hard-on. The hand left my cheek, and He pulled my clothes off with quick efficiency. I knew what was coming for sure and almost moaned. I hated it. I loved it. I loathed the feel of those men forcing their way into my body. I wanted them to split me in two with their stiff cocks, pounding into my flesh so good and hard I wanted to scream, but only jerked my own dick quietly until I came, if they would let me.

I stood nude and shivering, staring at the floor, expecting to be bent over and nailed. But He gripped my arm firmly and guided me to another room. A smaller well lit room that smoked with the heat billowing out from a large tub in the corner. I hadn't had a true hot bath in a lifetime. The size of the tub and the amount of hot water that gently lapped the sides near the top stunned me. I looked up at my benefactor with wide eyes. He merely smiled and barely nodded His head.

Mn? My supreme intelligence showing again. I blinked stupidly up at Him.

In a rustle of movement, He lifted and lowered me into what I could only describe as liquid heaven. He set me clear in, not bothering that His sleeves had sucked in quantities of water. He shed His coat and top shirt, but I only heard Him from a corner of my mind. My head leaned back against the edge of the tub, my eyes closed.

The hot water, sublime, engulfed my body. Forgotten things barraged me, attacked me with flashing images. Emotions, unfamiliar, bubbled up from some deep cavern in my soul. My head ached. My eyes burned. I figured I was dying for real. Nothing had ever felt so foreign. Never had I felt so removed from my flesh. I floated in some alien realm beyond my comprehension. Liquid leaked from my eyes. It was surely the liquid inside those globes which had burst to spurt their juices out to run down my face. A sob escaped my throat - the final gasp of air as the soul leaves the body. So I assumed. I slipped down further into the water. Ripples lapped at the top of my head. Bubbles rose from my nose as I breathed out. I opened my eyes, certain I would find myself wherever it was people go after death.

I saw my own toes, warped by the rippling of the water. If it would've been in me to laugh, I would have. I floated back to the surface, took a breath of humid air. He stood there still. Watching me. I had a good view of His legs and groin as He stood right beside the tub. I wondered what those limbs would feel like if I touched them. I had never been on the giving end of anything and wondered what it would be like. Wondered if I could make sounds that meant pleasure come from His throat. My eyes traveled up to His throat. His neck and chin were clean shaven and smooth. I wanted to taste His skin. My lust must've been apparent on my face, because He turned, reached for the soap and a rag and shoved them into my hands with a squint of eyes that meant I'd better be about the business of getting clean. I wasn't stupid.

I laid on a bed. A real bed! Soft and warm. My belly so full from gorging down massive amounts of food that I felt I must surely burst. I ate as much as my small frame would hold, because I never knew when the next meal would come. I did not take it for granted that I would eat again soon, let alone stay at this place. I turned to look out the window. Rain still sheeted down in the night. It didn't interest me.

Suddenly, like an apparition by my bed, He appeared. The mattress dipped with His weight as He sat down. Turning toward Him, I peered longingly into His eyes. I wanted to touch Him, but was afraid to reach out. Reaching out to people only got you hurt, so I kept my arms wrapped about myself. He leaned down to press His lips to my forehead in a chaste kiss and tousled my hair. If I could've felt my heart, it would've lurched. And then He spoke for the first time.

Sleep.

One word. It was the sound of angels. The rich fullness of that one word filled me past brimming. It left goose bumps as the sound waves caressed my skin. His voice was like satin and pipe tobacco. I wanted to hear more of it, but He rose from the bed and walked out the door. I couldn't find my own disused voice and managed only a whimper as the door clacked shut. I keened into the pillow and didn't understand what or why I was feeling. I cried myself to sleep that first night and for several nights that followed; wishing to touch Him, yet not. Wanting to be touched, yet not. I finally had to take to jerking myself off. The ache in my gut too overwhelming and painful to ignore. Even if the rippling orgasm that shook my body relieved some tension, it never completely took away that intangible, hollow feeling that He had created in the pit of my stomach from that very first night.

Chapter Two

Time never really had any meaning for me. The rising and setting of the sun. The passing of seasons. It meant nothing other than I still lived. And that didn't hold any meaning for me either. Even the time at His house blurred from one day to the next. I still existed. Living was a concept that refused to gel in my mind. I spent a lot of time alone. That, I was used to, but I also was frequently in His company. We never spoke much for a long time. We sat in mostly silent company. If He ever asked a question of me, I could only just look at Him. One time:

How old are you?

A blank stare. I figured I was still nineteen, but couldn't get my brain to tell my voice to speak it. It hurt too much to try and figure how long I had been on the street....

The year I was to turn ten, I was dumped like so much garbage. Just left standing on the corner in the middle of a strange town. My parents dead long ago and the only other family I ever had just tossed me out of their car like a stray. Left me there to fend for myself. What the hell is a nine year old boy supposed to do in the middle of what looked like slumville? I stood there for a long time staring out into the street. Just stood there, dumbfounded. I wasn't a stupid child by any stretch, but had no clue what had just happened, where I was or where to go.

That day, I joined the sub-race of walking dead. Another body to join their ranks. Truly horrifying that one such as I, so young, was shoved into that world. But as I found out soon enough, the world spawned such cruelty daily, and we were the ones to reap the fruits of that maliciousness. Easy targets. No one gave a shit what happened to us. If we died, one less rat on the street. We were the dirty, filthy underbelly of society and no one wanted to acknowledge our existence except to take out whatever rage or perversions their rampant imaginations could conjure.

I was erased. Wiped clean off the world. Forgotten. The gut tells you these things and then you can begin to shuffle forward in a jerking parody of living.

I had turned ten, finally. It took forever on those streets, the days moved so slowly. The first year or so, I still noted things like birthdays and holidays. The nights grew cold and the days couldn't quite warm themselves up all the way. I had sneaked behind a store where people dropped off donations, and I nipped a coat much too big for my small frame. It hung down to my knees and way past my hands, but it offered warmth. Huddling within the confines of my prize and tearing into a semi-fresh, partially eaten sandwich, I sat under a tree in one of those beautification parks they put smack dab in the middle of the worst neighborhoods, like any of us would give a damn about the beauty of nature. It was just another place to sleep, find food and try not to get the shit beat out of you by one of the many gangs that seemed to want to kill off loners like me.

I should've been paying more attention, but I was warm inside my new coat and the food settled my empty stomach, I never heard them coming. That evening, I knew the pure, unadulterated agony that could be inflicted on a body. Nothing in my imagination prepared me for such brutality as that onslaught. The very first time I truly tasted pain. There were five of them. Drunk and high on whatever the current flavor of the week was. I sat alone, the low evening sun putting sparks of fire in my hair that I caught out of the corner of my eye. I'm sure I was just too much of a temptation.

In an instant, it seemed, they surrounded me; their shadows blocking the last rays of the sun. I looked up into the half-circle of leering faces. They spoke and I couldn't understand what they were saying. The gang language foreign to me.

They jerked me up to