Kink by N M Catalano

Author:N M Catalano [Catalano, N M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781514238554
Published: 2015-06-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10 John’s past…“In the Fields the bodies burning as the war machines keep turning. Lyrics, “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath

“I hate this fucking place,” John grunts as he walks through the depressed Indian Reservation that his family called home. The structures, like his life, are crumbling around him from years of neglect.

Family, that’s a fucking joke, the words pass through his mind like poison in his veins. Whenever he thinks about family, rage and disgust fill him. He doesn’t know who his father is. John assumed he was just some john that his mother had years ago when she was still beautiful, before the booze and drugs seduced her into their clutches.

Hah, that’s probably why she named me John. The sick irony from the realization brings bubbles of laughter bursting from him, until he’s bent over in a fit of hysterics.

Holy shit, my mother named me after a trick, talk about a totally fucked life! I can’t even have my own identity. That’s so fucked up, it’s hysterical!

“John! What’s wrong with you?” booms the somberly powerful voice of the tribal chief, Standing Bear, or Billy, his birth name.

“I just realized that my mother must have named me after one of her tricks,” he laughs aloud. “She damned me to a fucked up life since the day she started self-destructing!” he howls in laughter.

Smack!

John is quickly sobered by the hard slap across his face from the chief.

“Do not speak of your mother like that, John. She’s your mother first and always. She was tormented by evil spirits that made her live life the way she did, do not blame her.”

The chief’s voice is very low, but his words resound like a yell within John’s mind.

John stands stoically, staring at the chief, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to scream. But he can’t do either one. Today’s his eighteenth birthday, he’s a man now, and men don’t cry. Instead he shoves all of the rage, and anger, stemming from a lifetime of pain, back down deep inside him, locking it away. He stands tall, squares the shoulders on his tall lanky frame, and the mask of calm reserve, which he’s nearly perfected, slips back into place.

“I’m sorry, Chief Standing Bear, my behavior is disrespectful and I am ashamed,” he bows his head in a show of regret and respect to the only person in the world that he admires. The old man stands in front of him, his wrinkled and weathered face a comfort to his lost soul.

“Come with me John, it is apparent that you are being attacked by evil as well,” Chief Standing Bear says as he places his hand on John’s back, then leads him towards the outskirts of their reservation. The chief seems to be communicating without words as they pass others on their walk, and they begin to join them. Lost in his thoughts, John is barely aware that they have arrived at the ceremonial grounds until the chief guides him into a fabric-covered dome structure.

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