**UPDATED 1/1/11**


"Hey, could ya hold him down? I can't keep him still."

He thrashed around on the cold cement, kicking his feet and flinging his elbows. He was desperately trying to escape, ignoring the broken capillaries and bloody nose he was giving himself.

And he screamed. Oh, did he ever scream. It sounded hoarse and hopeless, like he knew no one was going to help him. He cried too. He cried because those he thought as friends now saw him as a disgusting fag. They saw him as something that couldn't even be human. Then he sobbed on top of everything because the one he valued most was watching from a foot away, watching as if this was all standard behavior.

I looked down at him, and his swollen eyes poured back into me. He didn't look at me like 'why did you do this to me?' It was like he was communicating his apology, like he was sorry that he was 'dirty,' 'gross,' and 'gay,' like he was sorry that he loved me, because that was apparently a crime.

"Reggie, you want to take the run first?"

"No," I regurgitated. He was still sobbing; it was so pitiful. Smooth, pale skin exposed, face slicked with tears and sweat, and the most disturbing part—his quivering. He shook violently in fear and embarrassment, unable to control his body. And I felt immensely responsible; it made me feel sick. Why were we doing this? Because he was a freshman, he was gay, or was it because we didn't know how else to respond—that I didn't know how to respond?

But I still couldn't tell my friends to stop because I didn't want to be called a 'fag,' too.

Louis pulled the pants off the kid's ankles to spread his ass apart more. "He looks really tight! Dude, how do I even get it in there?"

"Use your fingers to spread it apart then jam yourself in," said Jimmy. He'd done this with an underclassman before for reasons I never felt inclined to ask.

"Will this even feel good?"

"Yeah, man, just fucking do it already! I already told you it feels good. And you don't have to worry about getting it pregnant either. Why are you stalling?"

"Fine, fine."

In the brief period before Luis entered, the freshman's body convoluted into even more aggressive trembling.

"Please . . . please . . . don't!" He wasn't even crying now. That wasn't the right word to use. He was sobbing and hiccupping and hyperventilating . . . he was scared shitless.

Jimmy responded by banging his head into the floor. I heard a quip yelp, and then he quieted. The light had left his eyes. His head bleed even more, but at least he had hushed. I just wanted him to fucking shut up. I couldn't stand it. Every time he cried out I felt like he was piercing my soul, but now he was finally quiet. I could breathe.

Then Louis entered him. No, Luis rammed his member into him.

The light came back to his eyes, and he shrieked.

Then he yelled to me.

He said he was sorry.

And just like that, I snapped.