"I got the swim trunks, Mark. But it's not gonna work."

I was back at his house, wondering why. Knowing this probably wasn't the safest place to be after what had happened the last time. But when Eric told me last night how much he hated Mark-- how he wanted both of us to be rid of him forever-- I believed him. I'd become very proficient at knowing when Eric was lying and when he was being truthful.

Partly because of Eric and partly because of my own anger at Mark, I returned to the "scene of the crime" hoping Mark would wind up trying to seduce me again.

Only this time I would be ready.

*****

"What's not going to work, Andrew? The fact that I love you, the fact that I'm sorry for what I did to you ten years ago? The fact that nothing means more to me in the world than you?"

"Mark," I said. "You haven't the foggiest idea of how to love someone. You want to own them, covet them like they're some kind of grand prize and you're the champion. Well, this isn't a swim meet in college, Mark. It's your life, my life. And Eric's."

Mark paused, turned, and then walked into his house-- leaving me in the foyer. I stood there a while.

"Mark -- I'm going. Have a great life."

He didn't answer.

"Mark! Mark, I'm going."

Silence.

Now what? I knew I should have dropped the stupid swim trunks on the ground, walked out the door and not looked back-- just leave Mark in the past where he belonged. I knew this was what he wanted because he had the nerve to get up and walk away from me-- knowing damn well I would follow him.

I heard a sound.

"Mark?"

Nothing. I cursed under my breath and I walked down the hallway, looking in each passing room as I went. I knew at the end of the hallway was his bedroom but I hoped... I hoped he wouldn't resort to this.

"Mark, goddamnit, don't play this stupid game with me. Mark!"

I was at the entrance to his bedroom. I slowly walked in the dark room and suddenly felt an excruciating pain -- then passed out.

*****

Blood was in my right eye.

I had been hit and I couldn't see. I felt my eyebrow and the small cut where the bleeding felt intense. Then I felt something else.

He was on me.

He had taken off my pants, my underwear and his mouth was on me. Mark looked up and screamed, "don't move, Andrew -- or I swear to God, you'll be sorry."

Instinct took me and I kicked.

I kicked him hard in the face. I grabbed my clothes and ran out of his house, his SCREAMS of pain and anger echoing towards me.

I was in my car -- bleeding and naked-- fishing the car keys out of my pants pocket.

Suddenly, his hand was on the handle of my door. Locked. He pounded on the glass, shouting in rage. I gunned the car and flew backwards out of his driveway. He chased after me but I quickly pulled onto his street.

I checked the rearview and saw him leaning against his mailbox, slowly catching his breath. His little figure getting smaller and smaller.

I was crying and bleeding. And terrified.