Chapter Ten: New Digs
I hit the ground hard and it knocked the wind out of me. “What's the matter, faggot?” the harsh voice of the Sargent mocked. “Ain't you man enough to get up?” I felt his rough hands on my naked flesh as he picked me up and tucked me under his arm. This was not the first time he had humiliated me in front of the other sailors, but it was the first time he had caught me naked and hard, and it was clear that he was going to have some fun with my vulnerability. “You like watching all the real men, don't you, you little pervert?” He had his arm wrapped around my waist and was holding me just off the ground so my feet were dangling and and had pulled my pants down, exposing my ass for all to see. He let out another vicious laugh as he spanked me with his other hand. “Yeah, you like dick, don't you faggot?!”
He began to spread my ass cheeks and work a stubby finger towards my exposed hole. I squirmed, finally beginning to regain myself from the fall, but he squeezed my torso hard, once again forcing the breath out of me and shaking me violently. “Don't fight it boy,” he whispered. “You know you love it.” Then with a sudden thrust, he forced his finger in as far as he could, and shouted, “All right boys, Who wants to be the first to give him a little poke to remember the day?”
The world seemed to explode around me. I was already feeling sick from being knocked down, and could hardly breathe from being held so tight. On top of that, the sudden intrusion of the Sargent's fat finger in my unprepared hole made my head whirl even more and I saw stars, it was so painful. Beyond that, the thought of what these men might do to me left me terrified. All of this fear, pain, and anger focused on one person, the Sargent. At that moment I wished he was dead. I wanted him to suffer the way he had made me suffer, and I couldn't conceive of offering him mercy. But I was no match for him physically, and I certainly could not fend off an entire shipload of sailors. There was nothing I could do.
As the rage consumed me I found myself lost in a flurry of activity. The other men had indeed rushed towards us, shouting and laughing, and I felt the finger removing itself from my ass. I heard the Sargent's laughter, “One at a time!” he seemed gleeful in their enthusiasm, but then I was suddenly on the ground, and all was confusion. A couple of my shipmates picked me up and helped me get into my uniform, before rushing me off toward the waiting boat. They did not speak, but seemed to be moving with a mutually understood purpose. I was still dazed from the physical abuse and soon fell into an empty darkness.
The silence of the dark apartment was almost jarring considering the confused panic I felt at my sudden awakening. This dream had been as vivid and intense as the last dream, and seemed to pick it where the previous one had left off, as if someone were telling me a story. This dream, however, was much more disturbing. I tried to go back to sleep, but despite the early hour, the level of agitation I felt made that impossible. Giving in to the inevitable, I grabbed my laptop and began to document both dreams. I had had visions like this before, and knew that whoever was reaching out would not be satisfied until they had told me their entire story. Still, this felt different than before. It didn't feel like a ghost, rather, it felt more urgent. As if the story wasn't just in the past, but was still somehow playing itself out. Once I had it all written down I managed to grab an extra half hour of sleep before my alarm called me to begin what promised to be a long and eventful day.
I arrived at the hospital early, but they had already begun packing Ben's things for his transfer to the rehab center. Ben was beginning to feel a low constant aching in his leg and the excitement of the new sensation was beginning to wear off. It was clear he couldn't wait to get out of the hospital, but the pain took the excitement down a notch and he struggled to stay cheerful. I did my best to encourage him, but Sandra and I had to leave fairly quickly to go look at the cottage.
“So exactly where is this place?” she asked as we drove out of the hospital parking lot.
“You've seen it,” I told her. We drive past it on the way back and forth to the hospital, but you probably haven't noticed it. It's fairly small and unremarkable. It's almost directly across the road from the rehab center, so it will be very convenient, and once Ben has recovered a little they may be more likely to release him sooner since we will be living so close.”
“I like your thinking,” she chuckled. “I just hope it's decent inside, not one of these run down student apartments that surround the college.”
“It should be fine,” I assured her. “It's a summer rental property, so I'm sure they keep it up to try to attract tourists and vacationers.” I refrained from telling her about the intense sexual buzz I got from the place the last time I was there, or its close proximity to the bar with the weekly circle jerk club. Somehow I didn't think she would appreciate those aspects of my decision.
When we arrived the owner was already sitting in the driveway waiting for us. “How's your partner?” he asked as he opened the door and led us in.
“A little better, thanks,” I said. “But he still has a long way to go.” He nodded and I introduced Sandra to him. “This is his mother. She may be staying with us for a bit, although she may prefer to stay at our apartment in town. Not sure yet.”
“Well, as you can see it's a one bedroom cottage, but there is a sleeping loft facing the sea if you need extra space.” He pointed to a very steep and narrow set of stairs that resembled a ladder more than anything else, and continued, “Some of the renters put their kids up there, and some use it for storage.”
“Is there a basement?” I asked, doing a preliminary glace over the whole space. It was pretty much an open plan layout, although the bedroom and bathroom were partitioned off in one corner.
“Not really,” he said. “But there is a small storage room under the bedroom, sort of like a root cellar. Otherwise the building sits on a shallow foundation with a crawl space for access to the utilities.” Sandra wandered about silently, testing the sturdiness of the furniture and checking for dust. “As I told you, it comes fully furnished, or we can store the furniture if you want to use your own.”
I had not had a chance to really see the interior in daylight, and was surprised by how light and airy it was. The kitchen had no upper cabinets, but a wall of windows over the counter that offered an unobstructed view of the water. It was clear that the whole place had been renovated within the last few years and the furniture was practically new. “No, this furniture will be just fine,” I offered. “I don't really want to go to the trouble of moving things with all that's going on.” The owner nodded approvingly and I turned to Sandra, who had made her way to the kitchen and was going through the cabinets under the counter. “What do you think?”
She looked the landlord up and down, then said, “I can see it working, but what about that step up to get in the front door?”
“Not a problem,: he smiled. “I can have my handyman put a small ramp there in the next couple of days. Shouldn't take but a few minutes.”
Sandra nodded and, turning to me, asked, “But can you afford it?”
Before I could answer, the owner offered. “I've talked to my business partner about your situation and we decided that we could lower the price a bit if you were willing to do a six month lease. It would help you out in a difficult time and it would give us a guaranteed income from the property.”
“That's very kind.” I walked through the bedroom into the bathroom, to get a feel for the space. It felt comfortable, almost familiar, although the cleanly painted bedroom felt off. “I don't know why, but this room feels like it wants stripes on the walls, something more nautical. Maybe a blue and white.”
The owner's eyes got big. He walked over to the bedroom closet, and opening the door, said, “Like this?” To my amazement the closet was lined with blue and white striped wallpaper that had little anchors and ship's wheels on it. It was exactly what I had envisioned.
“How did you...?” Sandra caught herself and stifled her question.
“I've heard about this place,” I stated after a moment of confused silence. “Rumor has it that it's haunted.”
The landlord was taken aback. “Well,,,umm...”
“Not to worry,” I said, trying to calm his concerns. “The last two houses we've lived in were haunted, that doesn't bother me. But I imagine it can make it hard to keep tenants.” He looked at the floor, realizing I had caught that the generosity of his offer was an attempt at cutting off our egress if we were scared away by the ghosts. “It is still a very generous offer, and I think we will take you up on it. I expect that we will still be wanting to be near the rehab center for quite a while, so a six month lease shouldn't be a problem. Is the place winterized?”
He looked up, surprised that I was still interested. “Umm...yes, although no one has lived here in the winter for quite a while. It's usually just summer visitors.” He hesitated for a moment and added, “I'll be honest, most tenants don't last more than a month or two. The place sits empty for most of the year, so any income from it is a welcome relief. We've tried to sell it, but its reputation means that no one is interested.”
“We've faced haunted houses before. It can be challenging, but at this point I think we know how to handle ourselves around ghosts. What can you tell me about the place?”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sandra interrupted. “Ben is in no shape to...”
“I'm sure, Sandra. I have a feeling this is the right place for us, and I've learned to trust that intuition.” Turning back to the landlord I asked, “How many walls did you rip out when you renovated? There was one here, wasn't there? And another here?”
His jaw dropped. “Three if you count the closet. There was originally a study and the kitchen was this boxy little space that was quite crowded.”
“Did you put the windows in the kitchen?”
“We expanded and replaced them, but the original design had windows all along the wall facing the water. The... the house was built in the late 1940's, just after the war. It was owned by its original builder until we bought it about ten or fifteen years ago.”
“Did he die here?”
“No, He was moved to a nursing home in his 80's. He was all alone, never married, no children or any living relatives as far as I knew. I have no idea what happened to him. As far as we can tell there have been no deaths in the building.”
“Surprising for a haunted house,” I mused. “Still, If you have no objections, Sandra, I would like to do the paperwork as soon as possible. They are moving Ben to the rehab center today, so I'd be happy if I could move in tonight.”
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