I'm Straight I Swear!? (BoyxBoy)

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A/N Warning in this prologue the story switches from the past to the present. It might be a little confusion but I can't italisize it, so unfortunetly you'll just have to bear with me, this is the only part that will have this for a while, and hopefully in the later chapters I'll have upgraded my internet. So leave yer comments before, this is a new story, hope you like? :)

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His body was so...squishy, like putty in my hands as I kicked and kicked his worthless ass ignoring the screams that followed each blow.

"Colin Jane is a good Christian devoted to his faith who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, he saw the body of Matthew, saw the carnage and abuse he had endured, but it was not by his hand that Matthew died. Thou shall not kill, and ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Colin Jane did not kill. The prosecutor will have you believe that Matthew is the only victim in this case, but Colin was made victim too, by the detectives who saw in my client a pure Christian and assumed that because of his beliefs he would kill Matthew, a homosexual, so they manipulated evidence to prove their case, and Colin now will have to live with the results of their misconduct. But you, the jury, have the power to reverse the mistakes of others, to save one innocent soul today. I urge you to make the right choice, Matthew is dead, there is no changing that, but Colin Jane is still alive, and he has a long life ahead of him, why should he be the one to pay for another's crime? Why should he suffer a life behind bars? Doesn't he deserve to live too? Thank you ladies and gentlemen of the jury for your time today; I know that my client is in good hands."

His face was repugnant to me, he deserved this, he kept begging for mercy, talking to me as though we were equals, this only angered me further, so I kicked him in the head a few times just to silence him. But I didn't stop, I was just so angry....

They sent us out into the hall, where we waited on these uncomfortable plastic chairs for the jury's verdict. My Lawyer kept reassuring me that everything was going to be okay, that the prosecution had screwed up with the evidence and I would walk. My mom was crying and my dad was pacing the hall, but I was calm. I had God on my side....

His body lay still in the field, covered in blood, by the time my anger had finally dissipated his face had become unrecognizable. I smiled at my work, God's work. He was sick, diseased, he didn't deserve life...I kicked him one last time, just for fun, and then walked away, leaving his body to rot in the field. I knew he wouldn't be found until morning.

"Sir, the jury has reached a verdict"

I was the one who called the cops, when I got home and my mom saw my blood soaked shirt I had to give her a reason, told her I had found a body...told her I didn't know who it was...told her I tried to save him...the cross on her neck swung as she cried "My poor baby" promising to take care of everything. The memory of his screams was music to my ears, the feel of his flesh as it gave way, the sound of his bones as they cracked beneath my blows, and the way his body lay sprawled when I had finished twisted at inhuman angles so that the boy that was once fifteen year old Matthew Hart looked as alien as his sexuality.

"What is the jury's verdict?" The judge asked one of the women jurors, the one holding the piece of paper that would decide whether I went to prison or walked free.

"Not guilty"

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