When the boy woke, it was still dark. He stood up stiffly, brushing the sand off of his T-shirt and jeans, then shook his leather jacket that he had used for a pillow. His butt was just killing him and he couldn't wait to get his clothes off.
The beach was deserted, so he dropped his clothes next to his motorcycle and padded over to the edge of the ocean. The water was calm and as warm as a soothing bath. Stroking straight out, the boy turned and swam parallel to the shore to keep an eye out for thieves. He was also cautious and knew it could be dangerous to swim alone in the dark. When he felt better, he turned onto his back and floated easily, watching the sun rise over the water. It was a blaze of red and orange, turning the sea into a bloodbath. The image fit his mood perfectly as he thought about the events that had brought him there the previous night.
He had arrived home from work with dinner for himself and his lover. The man, still dressed in a shirt and tie, met him in the kitchen. His lover, a tall powerfully built man, was furious and holding a disc that the boy had mistakenly left in the PC. On it was a story the boy had been rewriting for a friend. The bigger man gripped the boy by both arms and demanded to know if the story was true.
"Is that what happened? You slept with him? Let him put his mouth on you?!", the man shouted, not caring if the neighbors heard.
"No! No! I was just trying to write a story! Please, you're hurting me! It's just a story!", the boy lied in an urgent soft southern drawl and tried to twist out of his grasp, but the man was too strong for him.
They argued back and forth, the man not believing that it was completely innocent fiction because of all the details. He grasped the boy around the waist, carried him into their bedroom and roughly tossed him on the bed. Then he quickly took the boy's clothes off. The boy laid on the bed face down, crying in fear. He had never seen his lover so angry and he knew he was in for a severe beating. Sure enough, the man removed his heavy expensive belt and brought it crashing down on the boy's round ass. He struck him again and again and again, until the boy was screaming into the pillows.
When the man was finished with the belt, he put it back on, then hit the boy twice with his hand, hard enough that the marks of his fingers could be seen in blood specked outlines. He left the room and the sobbing boy.
The boy lay alone in the dark for about a half hour then got up to use the john. In the mirror he could see the angry red welts and the imprints of the large hand. He crept through the darkened condo to the third bedroom that was set up as an office. His lover was on the phone and angrily punching away at his laptop. The boy had come to beg for forgiveness, but obviously the timing wasn't right. The older man saw him peeking around the door, crossed over to him, phone in hand and smacked his bare ass again. He covered the mouthpiece and ordered, "Get to bed!"
The boy ran for the bedroom, crying again. Then he made an impulsive decision. He stole back out to where he had left his jacket, boots and backpack near the rear door. His lover was still on the phone, his deep voice easily heard in the quiet. The boy stuffed some of his clothes into the pack, got dressed and left through the bedroom's sliding glass door. He pushed his bike out of the carport and several yards away before he started it. There was only one place to go....the beach. He thought about two men named Lee and wondered if either of them would take him in, but both were too far away to be of any help at that moment.
Once the sun was fully up, people would start to appear on the beach, so the boy emerged from the water and strode naked to his bike. He didn't care if anyone saw him , he was used to being stared at for various reasons. After he dried himself with his shirt, he pulled on his clothes and reluctantly headed back to the city, carrying a shell he had found as 'a peace offering'. He knew he would be beaten again for having run away....and he was.