Journey of a Thousand Miles (Part 3)

As soon as Justin found himself in the familiar dark space he began to run. He wanted to waste no time in getting to the man that had haunted his dreams for the past five nights. He needed to see what tonight would hold for both him and the mysterious dream figure.

He ran until he was in front of the man; instinctively stopping at the edge of the invisible barrier between them. He watched the handsome young man go through his ritual while he nervously clenched and unclenched his fists and waited for the right time to speak to him.

He waited until the man had asked his strange question for the second time and the blood began to flow from his body freely. Then, before the dream could end, Justin reached forward and said, "I can hear you and I want to help you."

The man just looked at him, giving no indication that he had heard him. The blood slid down his body and dripped silently into the darkness.

"Tell me how to help you," Justin pleaded.

Again, the only answer he received was silence. Feeling frustrated, Justin was about to try again when he saw a large tear appear in the man’s right shirtsleeve. The fabric looked to have been cleanly sliced open by something sharp, but Justin could see no weapons anywhere. He watched in amazement as blood welled up from the tear and began to run down the man’s arm.

Taking a closer look, Justin could see that the man’s skin had been sliced open as well as his shirt. He yelled, "Shit!" and lunged forward, only to have his traitorous dream legs defy him. He ended up falling heavily to his hands and knees. He brought his head up quickly and saw to his horror that the slices were now appearing all over the man’s body. Justin felt himself grow dizzy with nausea at the sight. He had anticipated that the dream would be worse this time, but he had no idea how bad it would be or how difficult it would be to watch.

The phantom weapon brutally slashed at the man’s arms, legs and torso, gaining momentum as the assault continued. And through all this the man sat in silence, seemingly oblivious to both Justin and to the damage being done to his body.

Justin watched helplessly as the bloody scene played out before him. He had never seen anything like this in his life, either awake or asleep. He wanted to shut his eyes against it, but he forced that instinct down and instead thrust out his arm and held out his hand. "I want to help you," he said, and only when he felt his voice crack did he come to realize that he was crying.

"Can you hear me crying?" the man asked again.

"Yes, God yes, but I don’t know how to help you. Tell me…tell me something…anything… Tell me who you are. Tell me how I can help you."

The man’s eyes seemed to focus slightly at Justin’s last words. Feeling encouraged, Justin whispered, "Who are you?"

The man’s mouth opened slowly and Justin was struck at just how red his lips were.

"Who…" Justin began again.

"Joshua," the man whispered before Justin could finish his question. "Joshua…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin practically leaped out of his bed with excitement. He ran to the small desk in the corner of his room and turned on the reading lamp that sat on it. Once he could see again, he grabbed one of his notebooks and flipped it open to a blank page then he picked up a stray pen and held it to the paper.

The pen almost fell from his trembling fingers, but he managed to tighten his hold on it long enough to write on the paper. After he was done he dropped the notebook on the desk and stared down at what he had written.

The man’s name.

The mystery man was no longer a complete mystery.

He had a name now.

For the first time since the dreams began, Justin felt some measure of control and he clutched at it like a drowning man clutches at a life preserver. As he continued to stare at the hastily written name, his mind began to ponder what would come next.

He felt as if he had taken his first step into a complex and winding labyrinth where there were no guides to show him the way out.

He sat down at the desk and began to think out what his next move would be.

So deep in thought was he that he didn’t even realize that he was mouthing the name Joshua over and over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin looked up at the clock on the wall, then over at the front door. Then he chastised himself for being so impatient and forced himself to read the textbook in front of him.

Five minutes later, he looked up from the textbook that he wasn’t really reading and again checked the clock and the door.

Damn it, where the hell was he? Lance was never late. Never. And now the one time he desperately needed him to be on time, he wasn’t.

Justin sighed in frustration and mentally went through Lance’s Sunday night schedule. On Sundays Lance got out of work at seven and he always came straight home so that he could either relax or study. He hardly ever deviated from this plan and if he did he would always call first to let Justin know. It was now 7:40. So where the fuck was Lance?

A familiar creak stole Justin’s attention away from his thoughts. He threw his book aside carelessly and jumped up. Running to the door, he flung it wide open and found himself face to face with a very astonished looking Lance.

"Shit, you scared me!" Lance cried as he held a hand to his chest.

"Well, it’s about time. Where the hell have you been?" Justin asked as he stepped back from the apartment’s threshold and gave Lance room to enter.

Lance walked past him and tossed his ever-present book-bag on the couch. "Funny thing; I could have sworn I left my mother in Mississippi," he said as he gave Justin a sharp look.

Justin shut the door and walked over to him. "Oh very funny. Ha ha. I was expecting you ten minutes ago, you know."

Lance gave him one of his famous gestures; the one that closely translated into ‘what the fuck’s your problem?’ "I got stuck in traffic," he said calmly.

"Well, I’ve been waiting for you."

"Why, what do you want that’s so important?" he said as he collapsed on the couch.

Justin stood over him, the excitement that had kept him awake and jumpy all day still evident in his movements. He paused a second to catch his breath and then clasped his hands together in front of his chest. "I know his name, Lance."

Lance nodded sagely, then stopped and shook his head rapidly. "Whose name Justin?"

"The guy in the dream. He told me his name."

"Oh. So what was it?" Lance asked.

"His name is Joshua."

Lance looked at his friend for a moment and took in the shine in his eyes and the flushed tone of his skin. He seemed edgy and excited at the same time; like he was ready to jump out of his skin. "And you’ve been waiting for me to come home so you could tell me that?"

Justin heaved a huge sigh of frustration and dropped his hands to his sides. "Don’t you get it? Now I have a name for this guy. This is the first step to finding out who he is."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you still think this is some kind of telepathic communication? That someone’s trying to send you a message?" Justin’s silence answered the question for him and he continued. "Justin, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but come one – that kind of stuff is impossible."

A shadow of anger flitted across Justin’s face before being replaced by the earnest, excited look again. "Look, I’m not going to try and convince you different…especially not since I need a favor from you."

Lance’s head flopped back on the couch. "Oh man. Why do I have a feeling that I’m not going to like this?"

Justin pressed on, undaunted by Lance’s remark. "I need you to call your friend Jenna and ask her come over as soon as possible."

"Jenna?" Lance asked in confusion.

"Yeah, you know…the red-head. The art major."

"I know who she is, but why do you need to talk to her?"

Justin thought about telling Lance his reason for wanting to talk to the girl, but he quickly decided against it. In actuality, he was surprised that Lance hadn’t figured it out himself. He chalked it up to Lance’s apparent exhaustion. Lance didn’t think well when he was tired. "Just, please do it for me, ok? I promise I’m not up to anything evil." Justin concentrated and gave his roommate his best wounded puppy dog look. No one had ever been able to resist it; not even Lance.

"Oh fine! But this is two that you owe me Justin. Two! Don’t think I’m not keeping track, cause I am," Lance said. "I’ll call her in the morning."

"Can’t you call her now?" Justin asked.

"Now?"

"I’ll love you forever," Justin said, still flashing his puppy dog eyes.

"Stacy loving me forever is incentive. You loving me forever is my worst nightmare."

"Please Lance," he begged. This time he flashed the wounded eyes and gave a small pout. The reaction was instantaneous.

"Ah fuck, give me the phone, " Lance grumbled.

Justin smiled and walked over to pick up the phone. He then walked it over to Lance, who gave him the evil eye every step of the way. "Thank you, thank you," Justin said as Lance dialed.

Lance waved him away and Justin sat down on the opposite end of the couch. He listened to his friend’s half of the conversation with interest.

{"Hey, Jenna."}

{"Did I catch you at a bad time?"}

{"Good. I’m good, thanks. I have a favor to ask you though."}

{"You know my roommate Justin?"}

{"Yes, the gay one."}

{"Yes, he’s still gay. Well, he wants to know if you can come over for awhile tomorrow. He needs to talk to you. It’d be a big favor to both me and him."}

{"Yeah."}

Lance held the phone away from his ear and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Is four in the afternoon ok with you?" he asked Justin.

Justin smiled and nodded enthusiastically. Lance nodded back and returned to the conversation.

{"That’d be great Jenna. Appreciate it."}

{"Ok, see you then."}

Lance hung up the phone and looked at Justin. "Ok, she’ll be here tomorrow."

"Thank you so much, Lance," Justin said sincerely.

"You’re welcome," he said as he stood. "I’m going to go in my room and study. You’re making dinner tonight right?"

"Yes. And it’s going to the best dinner you ever had."

"Not unless it’s grits and fried chicken," Lance called out as he covered the distance to his room in a few quick strides and disappeared into its doorway.

Justin stood up and made his way to the kitchen. As he opened the refrigerator he was dismayed to see that his hands were shaking slightly.

The phone call to Jenna should have made him feel better but instead he felt worse. Suddenly jittery and nervous, he could almost feel his earlier excitement slipping away from him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, trying to figure out why his emotions had shifted, when it hit him – despite the steps he was taking, he felt as if he were somehow quickly running out of time.

‘No, not me,’ he amended. ‘I’m not running out of time. Joshua is.’

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The man has waited patiently all day for the sun to fall and now that it has he can barely contain his excitement. He takes the steps to the basement as quickly as he can, then stops abruptly when he gets to the bottom. He sees it, cowering in the corner, trying to make its body small.

The man’s breathing becomes heavy and erratic as he steps closer and closer to it. He forces himself to move slowly now; knowing that its fear doubles every time his heels hit the ground.

Soon he is directly in front of it. It looks up at him as he looks down at it. Such misery in that pretty face. The man becomes instantly hard and he runs a hand over his denim-covered crotch in anticipation. This elicits a frightened whimper from it and he smiles.

He leans forward and grasps it by the hair, forcing it to look up at the ceiling. The tears are already running down its bruised face. Impulsively he kisses one away and laughs when it shudders and tries to pull away from him.

With one hand, he grabs a nearby rope and lets it dangle in front of its eyes. He wants to hear it beg.

It does not disappoint.

"Please don’t…" it begs as it sobs. It is crying so hard that it cannot even finish the sentence. The man lets go of its hair and, using both his hands, brings the rope around its neck.

The man positions their bodies so that they are both facing the full-length mirror on the nearest wall. He wants it to see. The man then tightens the rope viciously, cutting off its air supply. It struggles, its bound hands clenching into useless fists. The gasping noises coming from its mouth send tingles down the man’s spine. The man chokes it for awhile and then releases the rope. He watches as it desperately takes in huge gulps of air. Then he tightens the rope again.

Releases it.

Tightens it.

All the while watching it watch itself in the mirror. Watching the terror in its pretty blue eyes.

This goes on for hours, until the man is too tired to continue. Then he lies on its body and jerks himself off while it softly cries. He watches his warm cum splatter on its bare back with great delight, then he falls into a blissful sleep.