The Bad Life

Author: nicotine

<Jerome> spoke. An unknown person answered his words.

<Aha. Give it here.>

Suddenly, my shoulder was pushed and I was laid flat on the grass. I felt the sensation of someone sitting down heavily on my waist. A firm hand followed, holding my face in place. The next moment, cold water was poured over my face. While the water was pouring, the hand that had been holding my chin wiped my face. The mud was washed away.

There was still mud left in my nostrils and mouth, but I did not care. I hastily opened my eyes. After blinking a few times due to the water, my vision was restored.

The person sitting on my waist was <Jerome>. Thanks to the bright moonlight and starlight, I could recognize his face. I opened my mouth and gasped for breath, staring blankly up at <Jerome>. It was only then that a flurry of questions mixed with fear sprouted in my mind.

How did <Jerome> know I was waiting at the stables?

How did <Jerome> know I was taking a walk to <Kelly>…?

Was it really because <Jerome> was an unbeatable opponent?

Wrong. <Jerome> had a collaborator. Someone I did not know, someone I had not been wary of, had been secretly watching and observing me. The conversation I had with George this evening flashed through my mind. That if I was going to make an enemy of <Jerome>, I had to consider everyone an enemy.

<Jerome> gently stroked my cheek as I blinked blankly. I stared blankly into <Jerome>’s reptilian, creepy, bright green eyes. Suddenly, goosebumps broke out on the back of my neck. A chill ran down my spine and my body began to tremble again. <Jerome>, sitting on my waist, was feeling every change in my emotions and observing me thoroughly.

I did not answer. <Jerome> looked at me with concern.

At those words, a wave of fear washed over me. No, I could not fall into that swamp one more time. I moved my tongue, still caked with mud, and shouted in a rough, cracked voice.

<Jerome> laughed with joy.

<You’re as sturdy as ever, Raymond.>

<Jerome> said as he looked behind him.

Following <Jerome>, I also turned my gaze in the direction he was looking. But the person was standing a few steps back behind <Jerome>, so I could not see his face from my position. <Jerome>, noticing my gaze, smiled brightly at me and got up. He took a step to the side.

<Ah, finally.>

<Jerome> said.

<Jerome> said to the figure shrouded in darkness.

The person standing behind took a step forward. He took another step closer. First, his lower body, then his upper body, and with one more step, his face became visible. It felt like my mind went completely blank. How… why… it was unbelievable…. It felt like I was suffocating as if I had fallen into the swamp again. It felt like a clump of mud was stuck in my throat.

I stared at <Simon> kneeling beside me, my face contorted with despair. <Simon> spoke.

<You’re wrong. It’s not just your favorite moment, but our favorite moment.>

Despair pierced my chest like a well sharpened sword. In that moment, everything seemed to recede. The senses that had been wide open, rejoicing at having survived, vanished like smoke, and I forgot all about the stinging in my eyeballs and the pain in my throat from shouting.

I stared at <Simon> with wide eyes. <Simon>, kneeling in front of me, brushed my hair with that hand, that gentle and warm hand that had so carefully tended to my wounds. The touch, as it pushed back my wet, mud caked hair, brought back the memory of what had just happened a short while ago.

On that rainy day, when I had returned after a crushing defeat to <Jerome> at the stables, we had stood facing each other in the bathroom. <Simon> had brushed back my mud stained hair and said he would help me. It was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. From that day on, I had begun to trust <Simon> completely. I had thought of <Simon> as my ally. To <Simon>… to <Simon>….

<Simon> spoke.

<That’s exactly the face I was expecting, Raymond.>

I could not even get my voice out. I just stared at him in bewilderment.

<Jerome> placed a hand on <Simon>’s shoulder.

<Simon>, who had been looking at me intently, got up. The two boys stood intimidatingly in front of me and exchanged words.

<Simon> said.

<Jerome> asked. <Does George know you went out?>

At the same time, the two boys looked down at me. I still had not recovered from the shock and was just staring blankly at <Simon>.

<Simon>’s demeanor was no different from usual. His blunt face, his voice that felt somewhat indifferent, and his neat, unruffled posture with his back straight were all the same. The only difference from usual was that there was mud on his forearm, and not only his shoes but also the thigh part of his pants were stained with mud. He must have tried to pull me out of <Kelly>.

Since when had he been watching? Since when… since when. It was a foolish question. Of course, it must have been from the beginning. From the very beginning. From that day I first arrived in Bluebell, shivering from the cold.

My hands, tied when I fell into the swamp, were still the same. I was placed on the horse’s saddle like a piece of luggage, lying on my stomach. They did not follow <Simon>’s jogging course. They seemed to have a shortcut of their own and headed down an untrodden path in the forest. <Simon> led the way with a flashlight, and <Jerome> followed behind, holding the horse’s reins.

<Jerome> and <Simon> did not talk. <Simon> walked silently, and <Jerome> just hummed to himself or threw a few idle words to the horse. As I was carried on the saddle, my will to resist completely disappeared. It was useless to resist now. I would only fall from the horse and lose the life I had barely saved by being trampled by its angry hooves, or receive another punishment from <Jerome> and <Simon>. For now, I was the weaker one. If I wanted revenge, I had to first accept the situation I was in.

I had lost.

Once.

Ah, <Simon>. How could I not have been deceived by him? In the devotion he had shown, not a single impure intention could be found. <Simon> did not act in an exaggerated way, nor was he so passive as to not gain trust. I firmly believed he was on my side. I thought he was the first person I could trust since my father died. I had trusted someone I should not have.

<Simon>’s betrayal was shocking. But the series of events I had experienced during the evening had also been quite shocking. <Jerome> had tried to kill me without hesitation. In the end, it was just an act of intimidation to obtain my submission, but it was a fact that he had pushed me to the brink of death.

Thanks to this incident, I also came to know that <Jerome> could kill me anytime if he put his mind to it. Thanks to the overly surreal incident perpetrated by <Jerome>, the shock of <Simon> was overcome relatively quickly.

Everything was going crazy. If I started to pick apart every little concept like normal and abnormal, trusted and not trusted, I would be the one to have my neck torn out by them. About <Simon>… about his betrayal… I had to forget. There was only one thing I needed to find out now.

Now I could understand a few things about <Jerome> that I had not been able to before. Why <Jerome> knew so much about me. What the reason was that he could be so meticulous. It was all because he had a collaborator named <Simon>. No, it was not fair to call him a collaborator. They had been on the same side from the beginning, so they should be called a damn cute couple that got along very well.

I had been completely defeated by them, and for now, I had no choice but to endure until my tied hands were freed or the next situation was presented. Revenge was patience. The reason I had been submissive and confined to Julia for five years was solely for the sake of revenge. Patience was not difficult for me. I was good at enduring. I could endure the current shame. <Simon>’s betrayal too… I could endure. <Simon> was now just a vile enemy, just like <Jerome>.

However, there was something I was curious about with them. There was one answer I had to find out. This was something I just could not figure out no matter how much I thought about it.

Why? Why me? Of all the many people, why did it have to be me? With the appearance of <Simon>, I learned that they had been targeting me from the first day I appeared at this school. I was curious about that. Why they had put in so much effort and tried so hard to subjugate me from that day, when they knew nothing about me.

I need to hear that answer.

Relying on the flashlight and the moonlight, we finally made our way out of the forest. The place we came out to was behind the stables. <Jerome> pulled me down from the saddle and made me lie face down on the grass. <Simon> approached, sat on the small of my back, and pressed down hard on the nape of my neck. My breath caught in my throat. In that opening, <Jerome> led the horse away.

In the meantime, I could not say anything because <Simon> was pressing down on my neck so hard. A moment later, <Jerome> appeared alone, having left the horse. He squatted down in front of me, and <Simon> released the pressure on my neck.

<Jerome> said gently.

<We’re going into the dormitory now, and it would be a problem if you made a sound or struggled.>

I glared up at him with fierce eyes.

<So? Are you going to gag me or something?>

<Jerome> took the flashlight from <Simon>. Not knowing what he was about to do, I just scowled and glared at <Jerome>.

Just then, <Simon> abruptly stuffed a handkerchief into my mouth. <Jerome>, gripping the head of the flashlight instead of the handle, explained.

<It’s so you don’t bite your tongue.>

At those words, I realized what <Jerome> was about to do. He struck the back of my head with the handle of the flashlight. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, it was under a luxurious marble ceiling. The back of my head was throbbing, but it was not unbearably painful. On the contrary, my back, which had been hit with the crop, hurt much more. I blinked to clear my vision and carefully sat up. My body had been washed clean, and I was dressed in clothes I did not recognize.

This was a bedroom. It was obvious whose bedroom it was. Just as George had said, it was spacious and luxurious. Although it did not look like a secretly hidden room. There was no one in the room. I quickly found out the reason why the <Jerome> and <Simon> couple had left me unattended with such ease. There were handcuffs on my wrists and shackles on my ankles.

It was absurd. On one hand, a faint sense of fear arose. I chewed on the thought once more that I should not underestimate them.

When I tried to get up, my legs were shaky, but I could walk. The chain between the shackles was short, so my strides were very short. As I walked out of the bedroom, the chain clanking, I saw <Jerome> and <Simon> sitting opposite each other on the living room sofa. <Jerome> looked up at me from over the newspaper he was reading.

<Jerome>, without any sign of surprise, nonchalantly offered me a chair.

<Here, come and sit, Raymond. You must have a lot of questions.>

Thanks to the handcuffs and shackles on my front, I was unintentionally forced to sit in a neat posture. <Jerome> folded the newspaper and set it aside. <Simon> put down the book he was reading and looked at me with serious eyes. The three of us sat facing each other in silence for a while. It seemed the two of them were waiting for me to speak, but I did not open my mouth.

I did not even feel angry. I just quietly looked at the nonchalant faces of the two boys who had tried to kill a person. There was something I wanted to ask. Why me. Why they had chosen me. But I would not be the one to bring up the topic first. If my thoughts were read, my actions would be read as well. <Jerome> and <Simon> had driven me into a corner like a rabbit hunt until now, but from now on, it would be a different fight. As I kept my mouth firmly shut, <Simon> finally spoke first.

<Simon> said calmly.

<He’ll wait until you or I speak.>

Until now, <Jerome> and I had beaten each other up, but we had never had a long conversation. <Jerome> said with a smiling face.

<It’s okay, Raymond. We’re ready to be honest with your questions.>

To those words, <Simon> answered instead of me.

<Simon> looked at me quietly.

<Speaking of the incident on Tuesday, neither <Jerome> nor I had any idea you would be hiding in the stables.>

I stared at <Simon> and asked.

<Then how was <Jerome> not flustered?>

<Simon> explained in an indifferent tone.

<From what I’ve observed, you’re not interested in this school. You enjoy studying, but you lack motivation. You have hobbies and tastes, but no passion. Your passion is abnormally focused on one place. This is a guess, but before coming to school, you must have been obsessed with that mother of yours who confined you. And after meeting <Jerome>, you’ve shown no interest in anything other than <Jerome>. On Tuesday, you were in a good mood for no reason from the morning. Considering that all your passion is focused on <Jerome>, I told <Jerome> to be careful of you for that day.>

<Jerome> added to that long explanation.

<Jerome>’s excited voice grew louder.

<Oh, I really like you. I really like that about you, Raymond. That fighting spirit of yours. And the healthy body that supports that fighting spirit.>

When I did not answer, a silence fell. <Jerome> was smiling at me like a madman, and <Simon> was quietly watching me with the emotionless eyes of a creepy serial killer. Both of them were seriously crazy. It was not surprising… especially considering what they had done to me this evening.

I looked at them alternately and said.

<Then it’s time to hear the reason for all this fighting. <Jerome>, <Simon>. Keep blabbering.>

<Simon> asked back calmly.

The word abuse still hurt my pride. I glared at <Simon>.

<I’m asking why you made me interested in <Jerome>.>

<Jerome> let out a short laugh.

<Ah, of course you’d be curious about that! But Raymond. There won’t be a clear answer that you want. We’re just doing it for fun.>

I expected that answer to come. There could be no other reason for those psychos than fun. But I asked persistently.

<Jerome> shook his head. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned towards me. He looked into my eyes and said.

<…….>

I too leaned my upper body towards <Jerome>. I glared at his snake like, creepy green eyes as if I could kill him.

<You say we’re not equal? That’s cute. And disappointing. Is this really all there is? Am I supposed to repeat this charade indefinitely just to suit your fancy? If you need someone to play along with your boring tune beyond this, find another friend with <Simon>, <Jerome>. I’m quitting this boring game now.>

As I said before, <Jerome> actually liked it when I bared my teeth and tried to bite him. Just like now. <Jerome> burst out laughing again.

<Simon>, who had been listening to the conversation silently, said quietly.

I said coldly and held out my cuffed wrists.

<Jerome> leaned his forward-leaning torso back against the sofa. He crossed his legs and shook his head.

I sneered.

<Why? Are you afraid I’ll break your nose if you let me go?>

<Jerome> shook his head at those words too. Sarcasm did not work on him. Damn it.

<No. It’s because it’s not over yet.>

I asked inadvertently.

<What?>

No answer came back. <Jerome> just looked at me with a smile, in a comfortable posture, buried in the sofa. I turned my head to <Simon>. With an indifferent face, he picked up the book he had set down. He inserted a bookmark and closed the book, putting it away. If it is not over yet, it must be violence. There was no need to ask. But it was a different pattern from before.

<Jerome> had restrained me a couple of times before, but he had never beaten me after that. Saying it like this makes me feel like a madman just like them, but in any case, it did not seem to be <Jerome>’s taste. He enjoyed it much more when I foamed at the mouth and rushed at him. What was he going to do with me tied up so I could not move?

<Jerome> and <Simon> did not move. They just sat on the sofa and looked at me quietly. Unable to wait any longer, I spoke first.

<So? Are you going to roll up your sleeves and throw a punch now? Or are you going to beat me with a riding crop? Which one is it?>

<Jerome> said.

<It’s a bit embarrassing to correct a misunderstanding at this point, but I really don’t like to brandish a riding crop at people. Really. I’m serious, Raymond. Don’t look at me like that. I only used it because it was an unavoidable situation. I feel sorry to you about that. How barbaric it is to wield a whip against a person.>

I was dumbfounded. I could not even come up with a reply and just stared at him in disbelief.

<Simon> asked.

That question was just as astounding. This time, I looked at <Simon> in disbelief. <Simon>, as always, had a serious expression. In the gap where I was too stunned to speak, <Jerome> interjected.

<Simon> asked once more.

I looked at them blankly and then answered. It was a strange question and answer session.

I could not understand why they were asking this. But I could sensitively feel that the atmosphere in the room had changed. I had to keep talking and buy time until I could figure out their intentions. But how? <Jerome> and <Simon>, after hearing my answer, were just looking at me silently. This was the first time I could not guess what they were thinking at all.

The next moment, I realized there was no need to buy time from what <Jerome> said. <Jerome> said.

A chill ran down my spine. There was no need to ask again. <Jerome>’s words were clear, with no room for misunderstanding. He intended to rape me. No. <They> intended to gang rape me. Even though it was just a single sentence, my mind went blank. My body froze at the unexpected turn of events. But thinking about it, on one hand, it also felt like a natural course of events.

They had inflicted every kind of physical pain they could give. What they had done to me this evening, trying to kill me, was the climax of it. There was no reason why guys who had committed such an act would not inflict sexual violence on me. The animalistic ritual that males commit to elicit submission from those at the bottom of the hierarchy, implicitly revealed throughout literature, flashed through my mind. On the contrary, I felt like a fool for not having thought about sexual assault at all.

As <Jerome> said, during the five years I was confined by my mother, I was completely indifferent to sexual matters, including sex, and had never received any education on the subject. That was why I had not realized I would be sexually retaliated against by <Jerome> and <Simon>. The act of sex was an unknown to me. Fear suddenly washed over me without me realizing it. I barely suppressed the fear and glared at <Jerome> and <Simon> with fiercely wide eyes.

<You’re going to gang rape me.>

<Simon> answered.

<Yes.>

I asked, looking at them coldly.

<Jerome> burst out laughing. But the one who answered my words was <Simon>. Though I am not sure if it could be called an answer.

I could no longer dismiss <Simon>’s words that <this time is different>. They must have committed acts like this before me. The brawling that the two boys call a hunting game. Just as I had, someone else must have fought with <Jerome> and fallen into <Simon>’s trap.

The most likely suspect for my predecessor was the person who had lived with <Simon> before. He too must have shared a room with <Simon>, eaten the breakfast he brought, watched movies from behind his back, and finally, just as I had, stripped naked in front of <Simon>.

In that moment, the friend of <Simon>’s who had gone far away and lost contact flashed in my mind. It was a foreshadowing that was too well hidden to notice <Simon>’s identity, the truth. <Simon>’s skills had clearly become proficient through his experiences with my predecessors.

There must have been more than one or two predecessors. My own body now was the proof. There was not a single grain of dirt left in my mouth. The same went for my nostrils. My body, which had been steeped in the stench of the swamp, smelled good. It was clear that <Simon> had bathed me while I was unconscious. He must have opened my mouth, turned my tongue over, and washed it with water. He must have used a cotton swab to clean my nostrils, and he must have stripped my body and gently rubbed it with a lathered towel.

I could picture <Simon>’s gentle and meticulous touch without even seeing it. I could tell. Because <Simon> had bathed me before. Because I had already become accustomed to his hands touching my body. <Simon> already knew my body thoroughly. I had shown him first. I had let him touch me. Without knowing what kind of person <Simon> was, even though that hand could have turned on me and strangled me at any moment, I had unknowingly entrusted my whole body to him. Suddenly, that fact felt like a blow to the back of my head.

I could not suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. My stomach turned cold. It was fear more than a sense of betrayal. When <Simon> had deceived and pretended, I had been completely taken in. If so, I could be being deceived by someone else as well. There might be another hand I should be wary of. I might be holding the hand that would stab me in the back without knowing anything….

<Jerome> shot up. I froze in surprise at the sudden movement. <Jerome> smiled and passed by me. When I looked back at <Simon>, he was still sitting in his seat, watching me.

<Simon> said.

Instead of answering that, I asked.

<Simon> answered, resting his arm on the armrest.

Set me free? Now? Why? I looked at <Simon> in confusion, but the conversation did not continue. <Simon>’s words were true. <Jerome> appeared soon after. In one hand, he held a key.

He knelt in front of me and unlocked the shackles. I wanted to kick him in the face as he knelt, but I had no strength. My whole body was so tired it felt like it would collapse at any moment. I had been tensing my body for so long that now I did not even have the strength to lift a finger.

<Jerome> unlocked the handcuffs on my wrists and then stood up. As if by magic, my hands and feet were easily freed. I looked at <Jerome> in front of me and asked wearily.

<So? What’s next? Should I spread my legs? Since it’s my first time, should I ask you to be gentle?>

At my words, <Jerome> waved his hands dismissively.

<Simon> added.

I glared at them suspiciously, but <Jerome> actually took a step back and returned to his sofa. For someone like <Jerome> of all people to be talking about how I almost died today, it was absurd.

But… I too was at my limit. After being lashed with a riding crop and being thrown into a swamp and surviving, <Simon> was there in front of me, and I was even knocked out by a blow to the back of the head. My head was no longer working. If they told me to go, I would really get up without any hesitation.

When I carefully got up, my legs were still trembling. Even though I stood up slowly, my head was dizzy and my vision flickered to black. I silently turned and left the room. From behind me, <Jerome> offered a goodnight greeting. Instead of answering, I slammed the door.

I was standing in the right corridor. I stood there blankly for a moment. I heard no sign of anyone following me, nor any sound of conversation.

Finally, I struggled to walk to the left corridor where my room was, and George, who was reading a magazine with his legs stretched out on the sofa, glanced at me. He frowned.

George did not believe my answer. He looked at me with a face that openly showed suspicion and was simultaneously stained with curiosity, and then threw a word.

It was a highly ambiguous statement. But really, I no longer had the strength to talk to anyone. Especially if the other person was George. I turned and entered my room, answering.

After closing the door, I stood there and looked around the room blankly. It was the same scenery as when I had tidied up and left in the morning. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed. As soon as I approached the bed, my body collapsed as if it had been waiting. It felt not like falling asleep, but like dying.

Author's Thoughts

There are numerous stimulating scenes involving rape, gang rape, violence, abuse, and drugs. Please practice discretion as you proceed.

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