Mind Labyrinth, Book 1, Chapter 2 (Part 3)

Warnings: An adult is romantically invested in a minor, and a minor enters a relationship with him out of desperation to escape his abusive surroundings. Nothing explicit, but it's definitely depicted as skeevy and unwanted.

All throughout summer and autumn, Vincenzo received a gift at his doorstep consistently every Saturday morning. They were usually romantic gifts. Roses were common, but also chocolates and candies. Sometimes, they were school supplies, which he liked the most. He got a leather bound notebook, a set of colored pencils, calligraphy pens, watercolors, and oil pastels. The weirdest ones were the letters and the clothes. He hated those. The letters were written on a typewriter, so he had no clue who wrote them. They contained long monologues about the sender’s fantasies about him. They weren’t sexual fantasies like the stalkers in his books. They talked more about his beauty, his surface qualities, his daydreams about what he would be like in a relationship, and how intense his feelings were about him, which he often used imagery of storms and alcohol. The clothes made him uncomfortable, too. Whoever this man was, he knew what his size was exactly, and he sent him clothes he thought would look “lovely” on him. They were flowing, romance novel tops, little sailor suits, and shorts that were cut way too high. He kept the ones he liked and trashed the ones he hated. It seemed like whoever this person was, he kept a close eye on his garbage. He got the memo and stopped sending the gifts he disliked, except for the letters. The letters kept coming. He hardly read them anymore.

One Saturday morning, he was up at an ungodly hour. It was about something completely unrelated to these gifts. He stole a hammer from the groundskeeper’s shed in the brief window that it was open. He was determined to dismantle this wall to get to Heather’s summoning circle, which he was convinced was on the other side. As he took the nails out from the wall, he heard footsteps climb up to his attic room. He set the hammer gently down on the ground and sneaked closer to the entrance. When the person was right in front, he threw the door open.

He couldn’t have anticipated who was on the other side.

It was the new Vice Principal, the kind-hearted Walter Webb.

Walter was universally forgotten by most of the student body, but that gave him an advantage. As an authority figure, staying neutral with everybody was the most desirable position to be, because gaining favor with one group generally meant another group disliked you. For example, many of the rich students, athletes, and aspiring politicians adored the principal, at the expense of the loathing that came from everybody else. Walter was almost never brought up, unless in the context of where the last Vice Principal went, or if he was in the same room and someone awkwardly asked who was that. If asked about their opinion of him, they would say, Oh, Walter? I guess he’s nice.

Vincenzo knew Walter acted weirdly around him, but he didn’t anticipate that level of romantic dedication from a man that looked essentially like a sweet-faced baby as an adult. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking openly confused. Before his filter could stop him, he said, “What the fuck?”

“Vincenzo,” he said, in that level-headed, sweet voice of his. God, he hated that tone so much. “Let me explain.”

“You’re the creepy man that leaves all those gifts at my door!”

“I… I wouldn’t call it creepy. I thought they were rather sweet. I didn’t leave them with the intention of courting you. I’m content knowing you use them and that you like them.” Walter looked at his clothes, and flashed him this lovey-dovey grin that almost gave Vincenzo a toothache. He was wearing the desert rose pink robes with the flamingos that he gave him. He was mortified.

“And the letters? Were you content that I just read those, too?”

“I… Yes.” He took a deep breath. “I understand how this looks, you know, I’m not a total buffoon. I’m not one of those men who go to schools hunting down minors to date. I do care for the student body’s welfare as an adult with everybody’s best interests in mind. But… I… I’ve simply fallen in love with you. You are a remarkable person, stunningly beautiful but with a mind unlike any other. But with my luck, the person special enough to catch my eye is a teenager twenty years my junior. I’m a person of authority, and you’re a minor under my care. Even if you are… er… legal, it’s simply inappropriate. So, I’m content being the pining Humbert to your Lolita, and perhaps in a few years, I’ll pursue you in earnest... should you be open to that.”

This experience weirded him out. Everything being said and done here was done with the cadence of good intentions and sincerity, but it didn’t register as safe or sincere. He knew, objectively, that he was in the presence of a predator, and he was the victim of his unwanted affection, but somehow, Walter acted as if he was the victim of this situation. He was the one having a bad time about this. Vincenzo closed the door slightly, peeking at Walter through the tiny slit. “Humbert Humbert killed Dolores’ mother, kidnapped her, and drove her in a van around the US until another pedophile took her. He left her because she wouldn’t star in his porn films, so she became poor and married the first nice man she found, got pregnant, and died from childbirth.”

“It’s not… a perfect metaphor, Vincenzo. I know you like literature, so I’m trying to speak to you on your level. I am trying here. You could be a little more kind.” He presented him with a bouquet of red roses and a set of postcards with classical art on them. Vincenzo liked stuff. He took them, then looked up to Walter cautiously. “I know… too… that… it’s almost your birthday. If you have any birthday requests, I’d love to oblige you. It’s the least I can do after all this fuss.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He shut the door. After a stunned silence, he heard footsteps drag themselves down the stairs dejectedly.

Adults were such freaks and perverts.

***

Lately, Vincenzo had started falling ill to mysterious diseases. It started around the summer when he got a fever that spiked almost overnight. The nurses at the infirmary scratched their heads at what it was, but before they could even hospitalize him, it disappeared almost overnight. Around the summer solstice, he started receiving visions of the supernatural creatures that resided in his room even during broad daylight. Heather and Billy boy the most. They would stand in corners like judgmental mannequins for hours at a time. Over time, he began to understand their nature and why they watched him so closely. They possessed an unending well of sympathy, outrage, and camaraderie for Vincenzo. He was one of them. The outcast. Vincenzo only felt rage for this inescapable box and eternal damnation they categorized him in, if only because he saw the truth in it. All evidence in his life proved that he would continue to suffer, but he refused to accept it. He had free will, didn’t he? He was smart. He had all the tools in his disposal to think of a means of escape. Surely, the rest of the world wouldn’t be as vicious as this one.

As his sickness worsened, Algrogath was nowhere to be found, but in his stead, scarier, more visceral creatures showed up to torment him in his waking hours. They weren’t content with just glaring Vincenzo down uneasily. They actively harmed him physically. He had a hard time explaining what the mysterious marks on his skin were, why he was vomiting uncontrollably, why his hands acted against his will. 

There was no reprieve from this cycle. Night and day melted into one. He was going mad from simply trying to survive. When all the nails on the wall were removed, he tried to pry off the wooden walls, but even with his best efforts, he was too weak for it. His fingertips burned red. Splinters buried themselves in his skin.

He had fantasized, over and over, about what Algrogath meant about the power to escape and survive. Just the tiny hint of it made him wild with desire. Such unimaginable power felt like it was right at his fingertips, and he needed to figure out what it was — a missing puzzle piece that would make it all click. He paced around his room, eyes scanning his belongings when he suddenly remembered something: he did have a way of communicating with the supernatural.

In a last ditch effort, he brought out the weejee board from under his bed. It was cardboard and a piece of plastic. He doubted the authenticity and power of it, especially since it was advertised as a children’s toy, but at this point, he had nothing left to lose. He read the instructions thoroughly before placing the board on the floor. He placed his trembling fingers down on the planchette. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. He remembered the story about Billy boy, but if Heather and Billy boy intended to kill him, he welcomed it at this point. He felt their breath tickle his neck, but he didn’t see either of them.

“Algrogath, will you talk to me?”

He felt the distinction of cold, slimy tentacles coil around his wrist. He followed the directions it took him. It spelled out YES.

“You offered Heather a means of escape and survival before. I saw that. I don’t know if it was you or Heather that gave me that dream, but does that offer extend to me?”

YES. He could feel the amusement radiating off this answer, as if he should know this already.

“How can I get this power?”

EXCHAINGE.

“You want… an exchange for the power. That’s… fair. I get it. If I was a powerful being, I’d ask for payment to. What would you like for it?”

YOUR DEATH.

He paled. In the periphery of his vision, he saw yellow eyes watch him in the dark. It dawned on him, all of a sudden, why he hadn’t seen Algrogath during his days of illness. Algrogath wasn’t just a freakish salamander. Algrogath was also his room, and Vincenzo lived in the deepest recesses of his stomach. Almost as if on cue, the entire room turned pitch black. Yellow bile burst from each corner of the floor and between the floorboard, and it rose at an alarming rate. It filled the room in a matter of seconds. As he floated in that disgusting bile, he saw a set of skeletons at the bottom of the stomach. Vincenzo gasped for breath, and he was immediately taken back to his room.

Heather wasn’t the one that killed Billy boy. Algrogath was.

Vincenzo chucked the ouija board out of his bedroom window. He was half-tempted to burn the tome, but for some reason, he was convinced that the action would bring him awful luck. He simply tucked it at the bottom of his closet and made a promise to forget about it. He would live it in the room, when the time came.

***

After that particularly traumatizing experience, Vincenzo decided he needed to be realistic if he wanted to escape. He couldn’t just turn to witchcraft. He couldn’t pay the price Algrogath wanted — it was too much. He held out hope that his genius and cunning would be better than black magic.

These thoughts were the ones that led him down the school hallway that day. When he reached his destination, he stopped, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Vice Principal Walter Webb answered.

“Vincenzo,” he said, a way too big of a smile on his face. “Do you need anything?”

“Can I come in?”

Walter blushed, and led him inside. Vincenzo sat on one of the chairs, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable. The man leered at him. He probably thought he was being subtle, but Vincenzo saw how his eyes followed the shape of his legs. When Vincenzo squinted at him, he scurried off to the side and brought over a tray of tea with shaky hands.

“You’re right on time. I just made tea,” Walter declared.

Vincenzo nodded. He didn’t want tea, but if he wanted this to go anywhere, he understood that he had to play along. “Walter… remember when you said that I could ask you if I had any birthday requests?”

Walter froze as he poured them tea, looking at Vincenzo expectantly. “Do you have a request?”

“How… far would you go? Like a new winter coat or… something more? You mentioned you loved me like the moon loved the sea, like the rage of a never ending storm…” With the invested look in Walter’s face, it looked like he was serious, or at least thought he was serious. Vincenzo continued. “Walter, I’m very, very sick of this place. It’s not good for my health. Please. Let’s run away together.”

“I beg… your pardon, Vincenzo?”

Did he have to explain? Vincenzo already accepted a future of dead-eyed commitment from a man who accepted everything he said like an unthinking puppy. He already considered alternative plans like escaping to the town in the middle of the night, or fucking maids and pizza delivery boys while Walter was out of view. Vincenzo was quiet for a second, trying to think of something convincing to get Walter on board. Walter looked at him, blushing, and Vincenzo felt bile rise to his throat.

“I… I’ve been thinking about everything you’ve been doing for me. You’ve shown me so much more consideration than anyone in my life ever has. I was thinking that I was done with this environment of hostility. I would like to settle down with a nice man and live the rest of my days in peace. I thought that you would be the perfect partner. I’ll never run into someone more considerate and good as you. I’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity.”

“Vincenzo…” Walter took his hand delicately in his. Walter’s hand was warm from the tea. “I’ve always known that about you. You’re such a soft and sensitive soul, not like the other boys in this school. When I see you out there with them, playing along with their tricks, I admit, it made me feel angry. He was being seduced by those little devils, corrupting you with their lust. But I knew you’d come to your senses, because you were smart. Oh, Vincenzo! You’ve made the happiest man alive. I’ll run away with you. I’ll do whatever you want!”

Vincenzo gave him a wobbly smile. “Thank you, Walter.”

Walter took his hands and kissed them. “We’ll depart on your birthday. Oh, Vincenzo! You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

He was sure he did. He was sure nothing happier has ever happened, or will ever happen to Walter’s life. He loved Vincenzo like how a rusty cog loved oil.

When he left that suffocating office, he located the nearest trash can and vomited into it. He’d run away in the night and live the rest of his days as a prostitute than spend another minute with that disgusting man. Yes, that was what he’d do!

***

On the day of his birthday, Vincenzo had everything he needed packed. He only got the essentials. Underwear, toiletries, a notebook, a pen, legal documents, and two days worth of clothes. He figured Walter would get him whatever he wanted anyway, so he could accumulate stuff over the years if he wanted. He paced around his room, trying to brace himself for what was about to happen, but still, somehow, retching at the idea of it all. It was such an unbelievable tonal shift that he was sure it was going to explode in his face. Leaving couldn’t be that easy, could it? If it was, he would’ve just sucked a baker’s dick in town and lived in his goat’s shed. He didn’t see Billy boy or Heather during the days leading up to this, but he could feel their condescension in the air, amused at his pathetic attempts to escape the way one viewed a fly stuck at a spider’s web. He knew it would be no good. He knew! But he had to try.

When he heard Walter climb up the stairs, Vincenzo opened the door and ran up to his arms, hugging him tightly. It looked affectionate, but he was simply relieved he showed up at all.

“Walter! Thank god.”

“V-Vincenzo… Hello.”

Vincenzo nodded. “Right, then. Let’s be off.”

Walter nodded. When Vincenzo glanced at his face, he saw the hesitance flash across his face, as if he wasn’t sure he was really doing this, and Vincenzo’s stomach dropped. He didn’t need this motherfucker to falter now, not when he was so close. He decided he was going to seduce him. Flatter him if need be! If it still didn’t work while they were moving from Point A to Point B, he decided he would resort to stealing his wallet and booking it. He’d likely get to a far enough distance if he liquidized all his savings and used his credit card until Walter deactivated them. For now, Vincenzo touched his cheek and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Are you okay, Walter? You look worried.”

“I… I just have the jitters. This is quite the extreme plan, after all.”

Vincenzo smiled sweetly. “Do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think… that you’re just afraid to be happy! Your life was nothing but a series of disappointments, one after another, and now that happiness is within your grasp, you want to sabotage it,” he said in a cutesy, sing-song voice. He poked his nose. “But I think that you deserve something soft, after all this time, no? Life is so much better than it could be right now.”

Walter stopped, and after a bit, he nodded. “You’re right. I suppose you’re right. You’re… such a beautiful, seductive dream that I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that you’re mine. I got our excuse slips signed. They say I’m taking you out to get your cavity fixed. They don’t know the wiser. Come on, then. Let’s leave this cursed place, my love.”

November ninth. It was late autumn, and most of the trees have finally shed their leaves. The sky was a dreary gray. From the thick, fluffy clouds overhead, snow began to fall, dusting Vincenzo’s golden hair and narrow shoulders with snowflakes. As they walked to Walter’s cream sedan, Vincenzo took one, last look at the institution he grew up in. He didn’t feel that misguided sense of nostalgia, or recalled any of the ‘good times’ he had. He only felt a deep, visceral hatred at every brick, every boy, and every shitty memory its cursed halls foisted upon him. Even if he was far away from this place, he accepted that he would carry it with him like a brand forcibly burned upon his skin. It broke him irreparably. At least now, he wouldn’t have to live in it anymore.

They drove past the town that he had gotten used to, and somewhere even bigger. He hadn’t been outside the two locations for a long time. The buildings in the city were so much bigger than he remembered. There were so many people and so many shops all bunched up together, he was getting overstimulated just looking at all of it.

“You look happy,” Walter said, amused as he glanced at him while he was driving.

“Walter, I am happy! You’ve made me the happiest person alive. Oh, I could kiss you.”

Walter swallowed. He didn’t seem to like that last comment. “I… don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be thinking of things like that.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was just very excited.” He smiled at him, touching his arm. “Should we celebrate? My birthday, I mean. We’re out on the town. I haven’t been out of the school and that one small town for years! I’m sick of banana bread and all the weekday lunch menus. It’s dull and repetitive.”

Walter laughed nervously. “I’m… not made of money, Vincenzo. I don’t live here. We’re simply passing by so we could get to my home.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not asking for a five star restaurant. How about pizza? And a slice of birthday cake? That would make me so happy.”

For some reason, this enticed him much more than kisses this. He looked convinced. “A-alright, Vincenzo. But… you have to change.”

“Change what?”

“Your… ahh… school uniform! I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to go somewhere in public with a school boy. Luckily, I got you a change of clothes.” He tilted his head to the seat at the back. Vincenzo peeked, and there was a white paper bag with a drawn logo of flowers. Vincenzo pulled the bag into his lap and examined the contents. It was a white sweater, a lilac scarf, a blue bonnet, blue jeans, and as promised, a gray winter coat. He wasn’t sure if these color choices were him, but he appreciated the new change of clothes anyway.

When Walter finally spotted a decent pizza place — stove pizza, not too cheap but not too expensive — he parked. Walter politely stepped out of the car while he got dressed, and when Vincenzo finished, he stepped out and threw his arms out. “Ta-da!”

Walter smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You look very adorable.”

Vincenzo pouted. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“Ah… I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make your special day about me. It’s just… it’s your birthday, and you’re out of your school clothes, maybe permanently. It feels a little bit like you’re growing up too fast. I…” He laughed nervously. “Is it odd that I thought you were cuter in your school clothes?”

“Well… who says I have to throw out my school clothes? I can wear them whenever you want, and you can pretend to teach me, if you like. Is that a particular fantasy of yours?”

Walter blushed as he sped off to the restaurant. When he was out of view, Vincenzo dragged his hands down his face and groaned. He wasn’t into little boys, he said. He was an exemption, he said. You don’t buy school boys booty short sailor outfits if you’re not into them, jackass. He stomped after him, and they were immediately seated at a booth in a corner.

It was odd. Whatever mood Walter was in earlier seemed to disappear when they were alone in the dim lighting. The waitress poured them both water, then wine. While he was filling up Vincenzo’s glass, Walter shook his head and waved his hand to get her to stop.

“Oh no, none for him, he’s —” And then, he stuck himself in a corner trying to explain why Vincenzo shouldn’t have wine. Vincenzo sneered. For a man who was fine with eloping with a minor, he sure had a lot of reservations about breaking rules. “Do you want wine?”

Vincenzo smiled. “None for me, thank you. I’m not a fan of alcohol.”

The waitress nodded and left. This seemed to be the right answer, because Walter looked very relieved.

“Thank you for backing off there. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I let a minor drink.”

“Don’t mention it. I… like that you’re so considerate with me, Walter. Even with this whole affair being what it is, you’re still a proper gentleman. The world’s lucky to have good folk like you.”

“Well…” Walter smiled smugly, and adjusted his coat. “I like to pride myself on being a proper gentleman. Not much of those these days. Lately, everybody’s gotten so senseless and crude.”

Vincenzo nodded, in full agreement.

“Do you… want to hear about the time I fell in love with you? I can still recall it. I can’t even believe I’m telling you now.” He gulped down his wine with shaky hands, leaving an entirely empty glass. “It was at your church choir. You looked so stunning up there. I remembered the sunlight shining down one of the crosses and grazing your gold hair and lovely features. And your singing voice… my goodness, it was the loudest and most melodic of the lot. I remember thinking, I’m in the presence of a real angel. How was this possible? The more I learned of you, the more convinced I was that you were cast down from heaven and the only thing we foolish mortals did was corrupt you. I bet you’re suffering deep inside. I bet this mortal shell is too unbearable to live in.”

That description made him sick. He didn’t feel like an angel. He feel wretched and sick, like evil dripped out of every pore and everybody sensed it. “What convinced you?”

“You were quiet. That was my first clue. You weren’t rowdy, and you didn’t destroy everything in your path. You’re very smart, contemplative, a real introvert and dreamer. You loved art and all the beautiful things in the world. I think with time, and away from those beasts, you’d cleanse yourself of their dirt and return to your usual angelic state.”

“I poisoned my school.”

Walter looked turned off by that reply. “I think… you were desperate. You had a moment of weakness. I forgive you for that.”

Vincenzo’s chest was tight. He despised Walter’s description of him because it was close enough to the truth to be a passable version of it, but it was incomplete, and he rejected the parts that completed the entire picture. That absence of comprehension helped him locate the source of Walter’s attraction to him. Walter was the dreamer introvert he claimed Vincenzo to be, and his romantic ideal was someone that fit his angelic and childlike ideals. It was why he gave him innocent gifts like shorts, candies, and flowers. Vincenzo outwardly delivered the child all the picture perfect postcards, children’s books, and baby cartoons promised. 

With his rejection of Walter’s interpretation, Vincenzo understood himself a better in comparison. He wasn’t a limp-dicked, hand-wringing, spineless coward like this pedophile bootlicker seemed to be. He was sharp, logical, petty, wrathful, bitter, and lustful. More importantly, he was loud and dramatic. He wasn’t a silent, suffering angel carrying the burdens of this Earth. He was a bastard.

He smiled in a much easier way now.

He didn’t have to openly retch at his words anymore. He knew what he was. And who he was needed to get away from all this as soon as possible.