Chapter 6

I finished my run, taking my time because of the icy conditions, and then headed in. No one was downstairs, so I figured they were either in the family room in the basement or they'd all gone to bed. It was getting on towards 11 PM, and I'd had a long day, so I went to my room stripped off my sweats, tossed on a robe, grabbed a towel and headed down to take a shower.

I was in and out quickly, just enough to wash off the sweat and stink. I pulled on my robe, left the towel hanging to dry overnight, and headed back up. When I opened the door all the lights were off. I hadn't turned off the lights.

The lamp on my nightstand clicked on to reveal Izzy lying in my bed. I shut the door behind me and locked it.

"Hey, Izzy... what's up?" Should I link, try to figure out what was going on? I decided no. I'd let her tell me in her own time.

"You did it, didn't you?" I walked past the bed to my dresser, opened the lowest drawer and took out a pair of pajamas. Tossing them to the foot of the bed I shut the drawer and undid the belt of my robe.

"Did what?" I shucked off the robe and stood naked in front of my sister.

"You linked with Mom and Dad at the same time." I could see Izzy's curiosity was getting the best of her. I grinned and picked up the pajama bottoms and slid into them.

"Yeah I did. It was actually pretty easy after the Mall."

"Alright Ike!" she crowed, as pleased as if she'd done it herself. I suppose she had every reason to be pleased, having nursed me thru my depression and coached me to my current level of ability. I couldn't have done it without her. I probably wouldn't have done it without her.

I put on the pajama top and began doing up the buttons.

"So? Did you help them stop fighting?"

My fingers fumbled with the button I was working on. I shook my head, no.

"I don't think there's anything I can do to help. I don't know enough to help them. And I don't think Dad will listen to me anyway."

I finished with the buttons and climbed under the covers next to Izzy. She snuggled up next to me, resting her head on my chest. I explained what had happened, what they'd said, what I'd said and what I'd felt from them. It was nearly midnight by the time I stopped and Izzy tried to explain to me what she thought was going on.

"I think Dad's cheating on Mom." She said. "I think that's what the guilt means. The fear is probably him thinking that you know. Either that or he's afraid Mom knows. And I think Mom does know. God, what a mess."

Izzy held herself tighter against me, and I stroked her hair and patted her shoulder.

"You know what? I don't think I've linked with a single person yet who wasn't feeling fear." I said softly.

Izzy was quiet for a while. "That isn't surprising, if you think about it. Everyone's afraid of something. Most people are constantly afraid of bad things that might happen, either to them or someone they care about. That's what makes paranoia. And bad things are always happening."

"I've felt it in you too Izzy."

She chuckled. "I just bet you have. In a way, you might be luckier than the rest of us. See, for a long time I worried constantly about what other people thought about me. What my friends thought about me. Did I look cool? Was I wearing the right clothes? Was I hanging out with the right people? It was desperately important that they only thought good things and I was really afraid that I'd do or say something that would screw that up. Teenagers are really bad that way. I was really bad that way. I'm getting better at not caring, but it's still there."

"How does this make me lucky? I'm a teenager too, you know."

She thumped me on the chest with her fist, then rubbed her flattened hand over the spot she'd just hit.

"Yeah, you are. But because of who you are, you've been isolated. Not because you wanted it that way, but there just didn't seem to be any other way for you. So you don't have any friends to be worried about. You've always figured everyone hated you or at the least disliked you. You aren't afraid in that way like everyone else is."

"I'm afraid sometimes Izzy."

"What are you afraid of?"

I tensed up. Could I tell her? Could I trust her? If I told her, would she use it against me? Tell her friends and allow them to use it against me? After all, she'd only been nice to me for a couple of days now. This was asking an awful lot.

"Ike? I won't tell anyone, I swear." I took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"I'm afraid of pain. Emotional pain mostly. I've been feeling so much of it lately. And I'm afraid no one will ever like me, that everyone I ever meet will think I'm a freak. Most of all I'm afraid of how much I want to hurt people who hurt me."

"Oh honey!" Izzy climbed up and lay down on top of me like I was a mattress. Her arms snaked around my neck and back as she pressed herself hard against me.

"Ike, there are people out there who will never like you, no matter what you do. You can't change that. But there are some out there who will like you if you give them the chance. There are even some who'll love you. And don't you ever think you're a freak. It's a stupid word. All it means is 'not normal'. Well, I'll tell you a little secret... there's no such thing as 'normal' or 'average' or 'ordinary'. Anybody who claims to be 'normal' is just announcing that they're boring, dull and uninteresting. Being 'normal' or 'average', that's something to be afraid of." She stopped for a bit and kissed me on the lips.

"And it's perfectly okay to want to hurt people who hurt you. As long as you don't need to hurt them. Deep down you are a very decent and good hearted guy."

I held her tight against me. "Thank you." I whispered against her neck.

"Thank you for trusting me."

I looked over at my alarm clock. Almost one in the morning.

"You sleeping here tonight?" I asked.

"If you don't mind."

"Nah... it's cool." I rolled her off of me, reached over and switched on the alarm and turned off the lamp. Pulling the blankets up over us, Izzy and I spooned together and went to sleep.

No, we didn't make love... or have sex. But after that night, from time to time, she would come up and spend the night with me.

True to her word, Izzy got her friends to stop making my life a living hell, mostly by example. I don't know it for a fact, and she never would tell me, but I think she might have used a bit of brute force too.

I finished up 8^th grade without too much trouble, and graduated to being a high school freshman, Izzy moved up to senior and Ivan graduated and went off to play football in college. Good riddance.

With Izzy's help I made a few friends, and on my own decided to play soccer. I wanted to stay away from the more violently aggressive sports. The nice thing about soccer; I was too busy moving to think about linking with any of the other players.

Mom and Dad didn't fight with each other where I could hear them. Once in a while I would link with my Dad, just to keep track of what was up with him. I don't think he stopped his cheating. I know he didn't stop feeling guilty.

Freshman year came and went. Izzy graduated and went off to college. I missed her a lot. She was my ally and confidant. She promised to call and write as often as she could. And she did pretty regularly for a while. Until she met Rick. She stopped calling, but kept writing every month... and then that stopped too. Mom said that these things happened when children grew up and moved on with their lives. I think she was as hurt by it as I was, if for different reasons.

Yeah, I was jealous. I did my fourteen year old best not to let on. I don't think she would have noticed anyway.

My tiny collection of friends helped get me thru the school year, along with the soccer season, but it became glaringly obvious to me that I was never going to fit in. I began to make plans to get the hell out of high school as soon as possible. I talked to my advisor and started taking advanced placement tests, CLEP tests and every other thing I could think of to enable my escape.

Granddad would drop by every few months and we'd talk about how I was doing, how I was handling my talent, how the family was doing... that sort of thing.

Sophomore year. I was fifteen and horny as hell. Puberty and my libido had finally caught up with each other. Looking back I think I lived with a constant hard-on. I must have jerked off three or four times a day for a while, until I rubbed my self raw and had to cut back out of self defense.

I kept lifting weights and hitting the punching bags, and running at night on top of soccer practices. I got heftier and I suppose I was attractive enough because towards the end of that year I got my first girlfriend. Vickie Carter.

Vickie was very pretty. She was much shorter than I was, about five two, had pale blond hair, freckles and green eyes. She was a cheerleader and very fit. Her body was compact and rock solid, with smallish breasts, trim tight legs and a firm little bubble butt.

I was smitten.

I'd avoided linking with anyone (apart from my parents) since Izzy had gone off to college. I think I was afraid of getting too close emotionally.

Vickie and I had been going out for about three weeks. I had become a minor soccer star, working my way up to the Varsity squad mostly on the basis of my size, and Vickie was a Prom Queen/Head Cheerleader in training. We started out kissing, which I'd gotten pretty good at thanks to Izzy's tutoring, and by the third week we were looking for isolated spots around school and our respective neighborhoods to make out in. Neither of us was old enough to drive yet so we were a bit stuck most of the time.

One night in May after a big match with our cross-town rival we found ourselves alone in her house. Her parents had gone out for the evening to a dinner party or card game or something, and Vickie was an only child so there were no siblings to worry about.

Alone together in her room we'd been kissing and groping one another and having a pretty good time. I unbuttoned her shirt and slid my hand inside and under her bra, lifting the lacy cup up and off her freckled tit. I tore my lips from hers, laid her back on the bed and attacked her pouty pink nipple and freckle spotted boob with my lips and tongue. Reaching up with my free hand I unsnapped the front release bra and slipped it and her shirt over her shoulders and half way down her back, trapping her arms down and out of the way.

Nibbling first at one sweet tit then switching to the other, I eased one hand down over her soft belly, enjoying the heat she was generating as well as the tiny tremors that rippled up and down her abs. Slowly my hand worked down and unbuttoned her jeans, then slipped under the elastic of her panties and between her thighs.

Vickie moaned loudly when I put a hickey beneath her left nipple and eased my middle finger between her swollen outer pussy lips. I kissed my way down over her stomach to her belly button, removed my hand from her pants and began working her jeans and panties down over her hips.

Up to this point I had assumed that she wanted this as much as I did, but for some reason I began to have doubts. I had no idea what she wanted. My mother had pounded 'no means no' into my head for a couple of years now, but what did silence mean?

"What do you want Vic? Tell me what you need." I pleaded with her.

She'd been a willing participant in all the kissing we'd done for the past few weeks, and not quite passive in the petting department. But did she want what I was about to do? Why wouldn't she tell me? Maybe she didn't know how. Maybe this was all new to her. If so I had an obligation here to go easy. At least as far as my limited experience would let me.

Vickie was silent, but I could feel her body shaking.

Damnit all... I needed to know. So I linked.

Amusement, anticipation, feelings of superiority, a sense of power and control, smugness and a tinge of fear with revulsion.