Chapter Nineteen

Frederick

 

Never have I hated my Navy uniform as much as I do now. After a few days away from base, having only this uniform to wear, it’s become unsightly. It needs to be cleaned, ironed and exchanged out for civilian clothes. Even now, I’m still sticking out like a sore thumb. Way too identifiable for my liking, given how I’ve taken back my initial statement and reversed the charges against Captain Gibson.

Worse than that is the fact that now that I’ve worn this uniform as long as I have, if I ever want to get into street clothes — something less conspicuous than all this navy, bronze, and military flair — I’m going to have to go back to base.

Captain Stern’s stomping grounds. His domain, for all intents and purposes.

My stomach flips sickly at the thought. Though I’m hoping against hope that he’s decided to leave me alone and not leave a trail of abusive evidence behind him — I know in my heart that he’s done no such thing.

Perhaps it is intuition, or maybe it’s just my trauma, but I know he’s doing the exact opposite. He’s watching and waiting for me to return. To walk back on base and the moment I do, he’s going to be there trying to threaten me or corner me. Make me regret all of my choices in the last few days. My future ones as well.

My only hope is to stay out of any place I think he might be roaming, hope that I can get in and out of my room, change into civilian clothes, and leave before he becomes aware of my presence. If I’m somehow unable to do this, I think, hurrying onto the base, trying to make my way to the “protective custody” section of it as soon as possible, things could get really messy. Very ugly for me.

My mouth dries out instantaneously just picturing his dark and heavy shadow. Not to mention his sickeningly sweet, mothball  cologne accompanied by his leering face and cruel voice. His repulsive and appalling touch. Even with these harrowing specters possibly on the horizon, I speed forward, racing for my room. My not-so-safe safe space, and the hellish little world I found myself in recently.

A few times on my way I think I see him. I think I see Captain Stern loitering in the creepy shadows, pacing between alleyways. But each time it turns out to be someone else — some other officer or lower-ranking individual. And while I can’t say that for certain, the figure has turned — vanished too quickly for any kind of positive ID.

Though, as I take my last little switchback — my last little shortcut to my room — I’m not sure I want any kind of positive ID when it comes to Stern. I just want him to leave me alone, so I can get in and get out. Go home to my actual house rather than continuing to run from between another Captain’s quarters or a hotel room.

When I get to my room, I quickly find the keys I need to unlock it and slip inside. I think about closing the door behind me — locking it, just to save myself from my creeping anxiety — but then I don’t want to waste the time or effort. In the time that I would waste doing that, I could be getting out of my clothes, and changing into some new ones.

With that in mind, I dive for my drawers. My footlockers are stowed underneath the bed. From my drawers, I grab an unassuming gray T-shirt, a pair of heavy-duty tan jeans, a fresh pair of underwear and socks. From my footlocker, I grab sneakers, as well as my watch, wallet, and house keys.

Once in hand, and the footlocker and drawers secured again, I put all of my clothes and important items on the mattress of my bed and begin to undress. Quickly, though it’s a little hard to do, when I’m already starting to feel dizzy—panicky and short of breath. I think that maybe I should’ve taken the time to lock my door, shut it at the very least.

But no. I didn’t, and I’m not about to waste more time now either.

So, I just keep fighting my way out of my uniform. My boots, socks and all.

Finally, I’m standing there stark naked and grabbing up my shirt.

I’ve only just had time to finish putting both on, and consider slipping on my pants, when I hear the voice I’ve been dreading.

“Well, well, well,” it says, caressing me like dagger-edged silk, “finally come back to base, have we Freddie?”

I finish pulling down my shirt, immediately greeted by Captain Stern’s horrible silhouette in the doorway. That gruesome grin as he saunters into my room, and shuts the door. It doesn’t lock, but the heavy thud is just as damning.

“Come back for your clothes, did you? Got another date with your boyfriend tonight or something?”

As I go to put my pants on Captain Stern kicks them away. They move with the frightening ease as if they have no weight to them at all.

I whimper, seeing his larger-than-my-form get closer to me. His thick, muscled arms and round gut protruding out toward me. Worse than that is how close his face is to mine… no more than a few inches away. And it’s just as mocking, bloated and oily as I remembered. If not worse.

“Always whimpering and whining little Freddie?” To illustrate his point, Captain Stern reaches out and grabs my arm while squeezing and pinching, forcing me to yelp.

“Oh, Freddie,” he says, putting more pressure on me, “it wasn’t that hard.” He adds more pressure and more direct pinching. Digging in, and with his nails. “This is hard.”

I let out a coughing cry, feeling terrified now. If he continues holding on to me like this he might break the bones in my arm, making it impossible for me to get the door open. It’s my good arm after all. My dominant one.

“You see, Freddie,” he says, releasing my arm for the front of my shirt.

“This is why I don’t like you and why eventually, you’re not even going to be worthy of Gibson’s love. His or any man’s.” He moves the fingers he’s bunched up in my shirt to my chest, then collarbone, and finally my throat. While he doesn’t move to choke me, he does put his fingers around each end illustratively.

“You’re too much of a baaay-bee. A whiner… crier and complainer.”

With these words, tears finally do begin to come out of me. I don’t want them to, but I’m too terrified for them not to. The tears stream out despite my best efforts to appear tougher. In addition, he’s called me unlovable. Even by Captain Gibson, the man I love more than anything else in the world. The man I recanted my statements for.

“You know, I only made you suck my dick all those times because you made such a big deal about it. Because you whined and cried so much.”

As he says these words, I tremble with fear at the thought that he might be here for that. Maybe more this time, considering I told him my plans to fuck him over and get even with him. He might just take it out on my ass and not care whether or not he tears something down there. I whimper again, backing away from him but he only brings his fingers around my neck more forcefully. He actually presses his thumbs and fingers into my skin, now warning me.

“If you hadn’t acted like such a baby about it, and instead took it like a man, I might not have made you do it so many times after the first time. But it seems you’re softer than you were before. Even more of a baby.”

I swallow thickly trying to back out of his fingers. He lets me free myself somewhat, but doesn’t let me get away completely. He lets me back myself into a corner.

“Gibson’s made you this way, hasn’t he?” Captain Stern holds my face in his hands. I know better than to fight given what he is liable to do after that. Like force me on to my knees with my mouth onto his ugly penis, which I’m sure is probably already raging from under his pants. He can probably only get his rocks off when he’s acting violently towards someone. The sick fuck…closeted homo.

“Well, guess what?” He makes me look him in the eye and watch his mouth.

“He doesn’t love you. He won’t love you when he realizes what a coward you really are. You are nothing but a liar, and a sick one at that! All your trauma and abuse-victim whiny ways are going to turn him away from you eventually.”

He sees me try to deny it. I try to close my eyes to it, but he keeps forcing me to look at him… at those depraved eyes now, not just his thin and repulsive lips.

“You aren’t worthy of anything except for the rest of your life to crumble. To be in shambles and to show the world what a piece of garbage you really are.” He pauses and smiles. His looks are psychotically dream-filled.

“How weak and worthless you really are. You and the rest of the gays running around this place. You guys are like maggots, you know that? Just when I think I’ve gotten rid of one of you, more pop-up.” His eyes hardened. Darkened.

“The Navy never used to be like this. It used to be wholesome. On the right path. But now they’ve got all this inclusion bullshit.”

I’m listening but not listening to his words. Spewing his usual homophobic drivel doesn’t hurt me as much as the implication that Captain Gibson hates me. That he’ll fall out of love with me, if he hasn’t already. I worry that despite his encouraging texts earlier, he really feels negatively about me. That he secretly despises me and everything the Captain is saying is true. Despite the fact he said he forgave me for this whole situation. He could grow to hate me for waiting so long to clear his name, or simply dragging him into any of this to begin with.

“Well,” says Captain Stern, cuffing me upside my head once then twice.

“It doesn’t matter. You and Captain Gibson are both going to get the screws put on you.” I flinch, thinking maybe he’s aiming to hit me again. He doesn’t, but he does spit near my feet.

“You two sissies can go on bumming each other, but it’s going to be nothing compared to what the both of you experience in prison. And that’s where you’re going to end up, Freddie.”

He smiles, backing off me, while heading toward the door.

“I don’t need you to suck my cock. You’ll be doing that day in and day out in prison, just trying to keep those hardened criminals from stealing your precious commissary.” He opens the door and steps out over the threshold adding, “and that’s going to be enough to give me some good rub off material for a while.” Captain Stern laughs devilishly as he closes the door.

The moment he’s gone, I spring into action and finish dressing in my pants and socks. I jam on my tennis shoes, grab my wallet and keys and head out of the room. By the time I’m out the door and running back toward my car, I don’t see Captain Stern anywhere. Thank god.

Doesn’t matter because I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe, and can barely see straight. Thinking Captain Gibson might leave me, might shun me after everything I’ve tried to do for him — that I might end up in prison because of Captain Cocksucker — fills me with overwhelming grief and fear.

Even though I almost slip and fall on my face a dozen times on the way to my car, I make it to the main road again and home to my civilian address. And for the first time in months I go inside and lock all the doors and windows. Close all the shades.

If it’s true that Captain Stern is going to have his way with me and my freedom in the end, I’m going to hunker down and wait to be served papers, and then a prison sentence.