The book is now out!
Some wounds are visible. Most aren't.Within these pages, the distance between fiction and real life is uncomfortably thin – a collection about suffering, memory, and the long shadow they cast over everything that follows. A life shaped by trauma, loss, and the quiet horrors that only reveal themselves when you look closely.These stories do not look away. Neither should you.*
*This book contains depictions of suicide, self-harm, sexual assault, violence, and explicit sexual content. These themes are handled with care and are integral to the story being told, but reader discretion is strongly advised.
UNRELEASED STORY
Ethan Louis Blackwell
Disclaimer
This was supposed to be the first story in the book, and it hurts to see it missing from the final cut – the collection feels incomplete without it. It sets the tone perfectly and fills the role of an introduction that ties everything together. It's where it all started, and it will always hold a special place in my heart.The story is about a child who discovers masturbation, which is a traumatic experience for many kids. It's not meant to be vulgar or crude, but it would likely be deemed as such. Including it would go against publishing content guidelines, which basically restrict anything involving children in a sexual context. My book would risk being taken down, which isn't a bet I want to make.This is also the reason why I needed to censor one of the other stories in the collection – it lost some of its meaning and literary quality, but for the most part, it could still stand on its own. With The Bath, that wouldn't have been possible.
That being said – here it is:
The Bath
– 60, 61, 62...Larry counted the shots coming from his pistol. The water in the bathtub covered his hips, and a thick cloud of foam billowing around him made his legs and belly almost disappear. Barely moving his lips, he mouthed the numbers each time he pulled the trigger. They sounded more like a series of short sighs than actual words, but it was good enough. It helped him to keep the right rhythm – it gave him a sense of control. Larry loved to count, and the evening bath was his favorite part of the day.– 63, 64, 65...The challenge was to not make any mistakes along the way. Getting to fifty was relatively easy, but Larry would sometimes get distracted and lose focus. It could be a stray thought or the noisy neighbor behind the wall screaming at his wife again. When that happened, Larry had to start all over again, but not today. Today, he would finally achieve his goal. He could feel it.– 66, 67, 68...The splashes echoed inside the old bathroom. Yellow light shone down from the lonely lightbulb on the ceiling, and patches where white paint had flaked away cast tiny shadows on a web of deep cracks in the concrete.Larry lived with his parents in an old apartment, and he often heard them talk about a major renovation. They said the apartment was ugly, that they were ashamed of it when they had guests over. His mom was especially concerned about the condition of the bathroom, but Larry didn't understand her. He liked it the way it was, and he didn't enjoy having guests anyway.– 69, 70, 71...No splash. He needed to reload his toy.– 70... 70... 70...Larry started to repeat the number of the last shot over and over again. This way, he could stay focused and keep track of the challenge. The magazine had a capacity of only twelve shots, and the pause was a necessary distraction. Like an experienced soldier, he removed the magazine, filled it to the brim with water, and reattached it to the pistol in a series of fluid motions. The weapon was now heavy again and felt good in his small hands. He pulled the trigger, and this time, a shot was fired.– 71...Larry rarely made it past seventy. This was his first attempt of the evening, and the water was still pleasantly warm. The foam started to settle, uncovering his knees, but he barely noticed. Larry's eyes stayed fixed on one spot where the water was hitting the bathtub. He aimed at a rusty dent where the paint had been scratched away, exposing the metal beneath. He liked to think that his shots would make the dent deeper and eventually create a hole in the bathtub. That would be awesome, but he also knew that it wasn't possible. To do that, Larry would need something much stronger than a plastic toy. He would need something with more pressure.
***
– Did you see that? – his grandfather asked, leaning forward. – With enough pressure, water can become harder than stone itself!Larry sat on a couch beside his grandfather, watching a documentary about a modern processing plant. On the screen, a man in a blue uniform showed how they used water to cut through a thick concrete block.– What is pressure, Grandpa? – Larry asked. No matter the question, his grandfather always had an answer. He could explain things simply in a way no one else could.– You create pressure when you press on things, my boy – the grandfather answered. Then he pointed his finger at the TV-screen. – Scientists managed to make a device that can press the water very, very hard – he explained. – So hard, in fact, that it can cut through metal, like a knife through a stick of butter! Isn't that fascinating? – he asked and looked at Larry through his glasses with a big smile.Larry looked at the screen. He had always been fascinated by machines and gadgets of all kinds. When asked what he would like to be in the future, he always gave the same enthusiastic answer – a scientist. Scientists need to be smart, and Larry was a smart kid. At least, that was what everyone was saying. Even the children making fun of him.Yes, it was his dream to work with devices like the one they showed on the screen, but people who work with science must be good at math. A real scientist could probably count to a thousand without making any mistakes, or maybe even to ten thousand. That was why Larry needed to practice. He needed to get better at counting, and he still had a long way to go.Larry often wondered why his grandfather had never become a scientist. The old man would surely have made a great one.
***
– 94, 95, 96...Larry had never made it this far before. Could it be? Could he finally make it?The pistol was now getting suspiciously light in Larry's hands again. He wanted to be prepared for the big moment and had to make a quick decision. He stopped shooting and decided to reload his pistol once again.– 96... 96... 96...Suddenly, someone knocked at the door.*knock knock– Honey, is everything alright?Larry stopped moving. It was his mother. She occasionally checked on him when he was taking a bath. Her voice shouldn't have surprised him, but he didn't expect to be disturbed at such a critical moment.– 96... YES MOM! 96... – he responded, louder than intended. He was intensely trying to remember the number.– Great! – she replied with her caring voice, seemingly unbothered by his outburst. – I'll be in the living room if you need me – she said and went away from the door.Larry was surprised by his reaction. He rarely raised his voice, but this wasn't the right time to dwell on it. He needed to focus.– 96... 96... 96... – he continued whispering while taking a deep breath.As he had done many times before, Larry slowly repeated the sequence of movements he knew by heart and managed to successfully reload the pistol. Then he aimed at the rusty dent and pulled the trigger.– 97, 98, 99...All his thoughts disappeared, and it felt like time had stopped. He pulled the trigger one last time. The water hit the target.– ...100? – he whispered to himself, not fully believing what he had just said. – Hundred! – he repeated, this time out loud.A big smile appeared on Larry's face, and his hands flew into the air. I did it, he thought. I really did it! With clenched fists, he started to punch the air in front of him while vigorously wiggling his knees. I really did it! I did it on the first try!Exhausted from the effort, Larry leaned his back against the bathtub with the pistol still in his hand. He deserved a rest.The now lukewarm water covered his entire body except for his head. The foam that had surrounded him earlier was gone now, and only a thin film of soap remained floating on the surface. He closed his eyes and relaxed, thinking about how he would tell his mom about his success and...Something wasn't right. Suddenly, Larry felt an unfamiliar numbness lurking in his belly. It was almost as if he had to pee, even though he didn't need to – he always went to the toilet before taking a bath. He opened his eyes and saw that there was something else sticking out of the water. It was his...
***
– A birdy, – his mom explained. – But adults call it a penis.Larry preferred the first word. He liked the sound of it and thought that it was more fitting.– It is important that you wash it thoroughly every day, especially under the funny moving skin – she went on. – That's where the bad bacteria like to hide. Do you know how to do it?– I do! – Larry replied proudly. He always remembered things that were important.– That's my boy! – she said with a smile. – Don't forget to take care of...
***
His birdy looked different. Usually, it was soft and wiggly, but now it was all stiff. It also felt different and seemed much bigger. Larry was confused. He raised the pistol and aimed it at his weirdly behaving body part. He pulled the trigger, and the water splashed against it.*splashHmm... that's strange, he thought. It was almost as if he couldn't feel the water touching him. Even more confused, he put the pistol to the side and carefully reached for his birdy. He squeezed it softly, surprised at how rigid it felt. Larry's skin was slippery from all the soap in the water, and his hand began slowly moving upward until it slid free. He repeated the motion.Grab, squeeze, slide...Larry didn't know what to think. It was quite relaxing, but at the same time, he didn't feel comfortable touching himself this way. There was also this strange feeling in his belly that wasn't going away. He should probably call his mom and tell her that something was wrong.Grab, squeeze, slide...Larry continued, and after a while his hand began to move slightly faster. His arms and legs began to tense, and he could feel the numbness in his belly slowly spreading to his limbs. His breath became shallower, and his face started getting warmer. He wanted to stop now, but for some reason, he couldn't. It was like his hand had gotten a life of its own. The sense of being in control started to fade.Grab, squeeze, slide, grab, squeeze, slide...He could feel something (a pressure) growing inside him. It made his little body hurt.– You need to go faster...An unknown voice rose inside his head. It sounded soft, almost caring, but there was no doubt in Larry's mind that it was giving him an order. He tried to fight the urge, but from the moment it spoke, he knew he wouldn't be able to resist. The body wasn't his anymore, and now he was also losing control of his thoughts. Something was taking over his whole being. It had its own goal, and Larry had to obey.Grab, squeeze, slide, grab, squeeze, slide...He was now moving his hand as fast as he possibly could, but it wasn't enough.– Go faster – the voice repeated. – Use the other hand.Larry obeyed. At first, it was difficult to coordinate the movement. He had to slow down, but after a few tries, he managed to find the new rhythm.Left, right, left, right, left, right...Larry was scared. Why was he doing this to himself? His arms were now sore, and he almost couldn't breathe. Dark circles appeared in front of his eyes, like this one time in church when he fainted and fell to the ground in front of everyone. I really need to stop now, he thought. Please, let me stop...But the voice in his head wasn't satisfied. It demanded more.– FASTER!Larry's whole existence was now reduced to this unpleasant feeling in his belly. He was powerless against this strange force that possessed him from the inside. His body was at its limit, but the voice had no mercy.Grabsqueezeslidegrabsqueezeslide...Suddenly, shivers went through Larry's body, and he could feel an intense sensation on his whole skin. Terrified, he dropped his arms to the side and rapidly raised himself. Standing naked in the bathtub, he looked down at his birdy. It was moving on its own now, pulsing up and down. It had never done it before. I broke it, he thought. My birdy... My birdy is broken. I have broken my birdy!Then the fear went away, and his body relaxed, almost as if nothing had ever happened. Larry didn't know what to feel. His limbs felt like they were made of rubber, and he was exhausted. He sat down again and leaned his back against the bathtub.*knock knock– Is everything all right? – his mother called through the door. – What's taking so long?Larry sat still for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.– I was... playing – he answered.– Oh, sweetheart, please hurry up now – Larry could hear a slight irritation in her voice. – Enough playing for today! – she said, and Larry couldn't agree more.But was this what he was doing? Was he just playing?(FASTER!)Larry started to wash himself quickly. After he was done, he pulled the plug and watched the cold and dirty water drain. Then, he rinsed the soap from his body with the leaky showerhead attached to the wall.
He had almost forgotten about the hundred shots he had managed to count with his water pistol. It was an achievement, and he was so proud of himself, but now…Larry wasn't sure if there was anything to be proud of after what he (the pressure) had just done.