A story about the wages of betrayal, inspired by a story written by Jezzi Belle Stewart. WARNING: Contains excessive cruelty and unintended consequences, which are both far less amusing in real life than you might think -- and way less entertaining in a work of fiction than public humiliation.

Surprise!
by Randalynn

Doug,

Hey, man! I wish I was sending this just to say hi. Actually, I wish you were at a base nearby instead of in the Gulf, so you could just come by and fix things the way you used to. I know you're good at it, man. Always was. And things here are pretty messed up, and have been for a while.

But by the time you get this, it'll be all over anyway, one way or another. So I guess I ain't getting no rescue this time. No "nick of time" shit for Donny boy, no, sir.

And damn if part of me doesn't think it’s past due.

As I'm lying here writing this, all I keep thinking is, this is what it comes down to. I guess it's no big surprise. When you're all alone, no friends, no family, where the hell do you think you'll wind up? The Taj Mahal? Las Freakin' Vegas? Three months ago, I never expected I'd wind up here, like this. But I guess life's full of little surprises, and some big ones.

And that's what's gonna kill me, in the end. Surprise. That's how it all started, and that's how it's gonna end.

See, there I was, a suburb boy with a posse of friends and a sweet life, more or less. You remember the neighborhood, man. I thought things would never change. Then suddenly my little brother decides to become a girl. Get this — his girlfriend talks him into it, and he LIKES it. Surprise!

So now my friends are on my case about it, as if somehow it's MY fault he's gone nuts. So I figure I'll lean on him a little bit, get him to see it's not all fun and games being an oddball. He just shrugs it off, like what I'm saying doesn't matter. So I try harder, get nastier. And nastier. Hell, I figure he can't keep ignoring me forever. But when Mom and Dad catch me at it, they read me the riot act. Turns out they LIKE the joker in dresses! Surprise!

So finally, I did something seriously stupid. I really didn't want to hurt the twerp, but a guy gets tired of being ignored, and I knew "she" couldn't ignore a fall. So I tripped "her" as she walked down the stairs. Well, she did manage to get hurt, but she still ignored me. And the 'rents didn't believe my lame excuse for why she fell.

The next day I grab a bottle of Coke from the fridge after school and chug it down. And suddenly, everything gets REAL slow and kinda fuzzy. Mom and the twerp's girlfriend Brandy are pulling me along to the guest room, and taking off my clothes, and I'm trying to push them off me but I can't seem to get focused. I fall down on the bed and things start to spin, and they're doing things to me, but I can't tell what. Before I can get them to stop they're pulling me up off the bed and making me sit, putting stuff on my face and in my hair, and dragging me out of the bedroom towards the front door.

The twerp is out there, all dressed in leather and looking like he's freakin' Catwoman, and as things start to steady down some in my head, I begin to notice stuff. Like the fluffy dress I'm wearin', and the shiny slippery shoes and the lacey socks. And as it hits me what they've done to me, I realize I'm wearing a diaper and plastic pants with little ruffles across the ass. And I'm out in the street and everybody in the neighborhood can see me!

Surprise!

I want to run but I can't seem to make myself move. Can't do much of anything but stand here wobbling. There's this ringing in my ears and a big blank spot in the middle of my brain. Drugged, part of me whispers. They drugged you, man. Shit.

But if that's not bad enough, my friends drive by in Richie's car, and THEY all see me like this, and start pointin' and laughin'. There's a flash of light, and suddenly everything's spinning again and I fall back on my padded ass. The rest of me keeps going and the back of my head hits the driveway, and I'm out.

A few hours later, I woke up in my room. I'm still in the dress, and my head hurts like ten hangovers rolled into one, but it's nothin' compared to what I feel like inside. It aches, and feels empty at the same time. Like somebody ripped a big chunk of my heart out and didn't bother filling in the space they left behind.

The rest of them, Mom, Dad, the twerp and the girlfriend -- I could hear 'em downstairs, laughing and talkin' together. Like they were celebrating a job well done. And I suddenly realized what the feeling was inside.

Betrayal. My family had set me up! They drugged me and dressed me up and threw me out in the street, so everybody could make fun of the big sissy baby. And my friends — I felt the tears fall, and didn’t try to stop 'em. Hell, I was dressed like a baby, I thought at the time. Might as well cry like one.

It hurt. A lot. I always thought family meant people who would stand by you, no matter what. Sure I was hard on the twerp. I thought I had to be. He just didn't listen. You got a problem, we talk it out, right? But he didn't talk. He just blew me off. Even after Mom and Dad sided with him, I still believed the people you could always count on was your family. Even the twerp, I thought, woulda stood by me in a crunch, if push came to shove.

Then they do something like this. And they were still laughin', hours later.

Listenin' to them downstairs, I knew I had nobody. Nobody. I was totally alone. Worse. I was surrounded by enemies now. At home and — oh, God, at school. They did this to me.

I was .... alone. Totally alone. And too mad to realize just how bad that could be.

I cut the dress off with my Swiss Army knife. I couldn't reach the damned zipper down the back, and it wasn't like I wanted to save the damned thing anyway. I ripped the shoes and stockings off. I pulled the diaper and plastic pants down and kicked 'em across the room. I got dressed — boxers, jeans, sweatshirt, sneaks. The same clothes they stripped off me ... before.

There were ribbons and bows all over my head. So I took the knife and cut 'em off, one by one, along with hunks of hair. Let 'em fall, like the pieces of my life. Left 'em on the dresser. I knew my face was still made up, so I opened my door, walked across to the bathroom and scrubbed my face until it was raw.

With my ragged hair and the haunted look in my eyes, a stranger stared back at me from the bathroom mirror. He looked like he'd just been through a war ... and lost.

I walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchen. They sat around the table, drinking coffee and laughing. All of 'em, even Dad. But they shut up quick when they saw me there, the smiles still frozen on their faces.

"Well, son," Dad started to say, and I pointed a finger at him and said "Shut it. Just shut it." He stopped, stunned.

"What the hell was that?" I said, in a voice that sounded scary, even to me. "What the hell did you just do to me?"

Then Mom tried to speak. "We —"

"What, Mom? Drugged me? Dressed me like a baby and TOOK ME FOR A WALK — IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD? Made me look like some kind of sissy IN FRONT OF MY FRIENDS? What? WHAT?"

They just sat there, stone quiet. "What the HELL was that supposed to accomplish?" I raved. "Was that supposed to show me I was WRONG? I already KNEW I shouldn't have tripped the twerp. And I KNEW nobody liked me calling him names — not that he really cared. He just BLEW me off. I just wanted him to LISTEN to me. I tripped him to get his FUCKING attention, okay?"

"Donny! Language!" Mom looked horrified. I wheeled around and focused all of my attention on her. She cringed.

"LANGUAGE? You really wanna try to take the moral high ground here, 'Mom?' You DRUGGED me! All those years of listening to that 'just say no' crap, and you fill me with enough shit to chill a bull elephant — just to put me on DISPLAY. I'm surprised I'm not fuckin' brain damaged, but after what you people did to me today, a coma would be a blessing!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Brandy stand up slowly. I turned to her.

"And just what are YOU gonna do to me, huh? Beat me up? Like you could hurt me any more than I've already been hurt." My hands became fists. "But go ahead, take your best shot. You're only going to be the first in a long line of people wanting to beat the shit out of the 'big baby.' Starting with my former friends. Hell, go ahead and KILL me now if you want. What's left of my life is gonna be hell anyway, so kill me -- right here, right now. I'd ask you not to bury me in that damned dress, but I don't trust any of you farther than I can spit." She just stood there, looking at me. "Come ON, damn you! You stole my family, ruined my life. So fuckin' KILL ME already! I'm halfway dead now."

She just shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I did what I wanted to do."

"And what was that, exactly?"

"Show you what it's like to be ridiculed and bullied," Brandy replied, raising her chin.

"Oh, give me a fuckin' break," I snapped. "That hasn't even STARTED yet. That comes at school tomorrow — or later today if I'm stupid enough to get caught out in the street. You think I don't have ENEMIES? You think I'm still gonna have FRIENDS after today?"

"If you explain —" The twerp began, but I cut him short.

"Don't tell me it'll be all right," I growled. "Don't you dare. I know 'em. You don't. I'll be lucky to get away with one beating a day. And NO ONE is going to forget 'baby Donna.' Not in MY lifetime. This town is WAY to small for that to happen." I turned to him. "For thirteen years, I was a damned good brother. I taught you how to play b-ball, kept the Randazzos off your back when you were ten, and everybody knew to keep their hands off you, because you were my brother and I'd take it personal. Well, now you've got her to watch your back, and I know just how much those thirteen years really meant to you. I'm on my own, from now on. I GET that, okay? Even here, I'm alone."

I stormed over to the back door, and turned, one hand on the knob. "I'm going out there now, even though it's only gonna mean the torture starts early. But you know why I'm leaving? Because I feel safer OUT THERE than I do here with you. I know what to expect out there. But here? I trusted you, and you betrayed me and ruined my life without a thought. Who knows WHAT fun little scheme you'll come up with next?"

I smiled, but it was empty, like my insides. "You wanted to teach me a lesson? Well, here it is. Don't trust anybody -- especially family."

I slammed the door hard when I left.

It was worse than I thought it was gonna be, Doug. Lots worse. Everywhere I went, they knew. My 'friends' copied the pictures they took and put them up all over the school, in case anyone missed the 'big event.' Overnight, I became the practice target for everybody. And the people I thought were my friends turned out to be the worst. I had always been good at fighting, but even I couldn't handle five-to-one odds -- every freakin' day.

The coach wouldn't let me be on any of the sports teams anymore, not after he saw those pictures. Without the 'rents, I didn't have anyone left on my side to help me make him. And gym class? The one time I tried to shower afterwards, I came back to find all my clothes had been stolen and big baby girl clothes had been left in their place. The whole damned class held me down and dressed me up. Then they threw me out into the halls and held the locker room door shut, laughing the whole time. Everyone in the hall got a free show, and I got another shot of humiliation.

So I waddled to the main office in my party dress and saggy diaper, and complained. When I got back, everyone else was gone and my clothes were back in my locker. And what did the principal do? Gave me detention for disobeying the dress code and lying to him, and all my old 'friends' walked.

"If you want to dress like that, do it on your own time, Dawny," he sniffed. "Don't bring your perversions to school."

I stopped going to gym class after that. Nobody seemed to care.

After the first month, I got used to most of it. The fights, the insults ... and being alone. I took my loneliness and wrapped it around me. Like armor. Like a blanket to dull the pain.

My life got very small. I went to school and back to the house where I lived, and in between I hid in my room. When anybody in the house tried to talk to me, I was like stone. Even if they wanted to say "I'm sorry," I didn't want to hear it. The damage had been done. Apologies wouldn't fix anything, except to make them feel better. And I didn't WANT that. If they felt bad about what they did to me, I wanted them to die from it.

Eventually, they all just left me alone, which suited me fine. Well, I hated it, but what the hell else was I gonna do, Doug? I couldn't bring myself to trust them again. What kind of an idiot would I be to do that, after what they did?

It went on this way for a while, and I thought I might be able to tough it out ... until a few days ago, anyway. I was walking home ... alone, as usual. Suddenly I heard an engine, and a big van pulled up. Somebody yanked me through the open door on the side and I was gone. Surprise!

Three days later, they finally got tired of me. So they threw me on the front lawn in a dirty diaper and an oversized tee shirt with 'Hello Kitty' on the front. "See you next week, baby!" I heard one of them say, and they all laughed as they drove off. I was bleeding pretty much anywhere you wanted to look -- and some places you didn’t. I couldn't call for help — my throat was too raw, and I'll just leave you to figure out why.

Every muscle ached, and I crawled to the door, looking just like a baby girl would if somebody had used her for a football. It made me smile through the pain. Imagine that — me, back out front dressed like a baby. Huh.

I dragged the key out from under the mat, and let myself in. Nobody home, I thought bitterly. Not like they would care anyway. I just lay there in my baby outfit, bleeding into the diaper, and let the cold of the tile in the entranceway seep into my muscles. Felt good, Doug.

I thought about calling the police, or maybe a hospital, but a little voice in the back of my head whispered, "why bother? What makes you think they'll care, either?"

"Amen, brother," I said out loud. It came out a harsh croak. Nobody's gonna care about the big baby. I know that now. They'd throw me out in the street for wastin' their time. I'd have to crawl home. Huh.

As I lay there, I remembered. The jerks in the van said "see you next week." That meant they'd be coming back. I'd have to do this weekend again. And again. No backup. No help.

I'd join the Army or the Marines, but I'm only sixteen. Besides, the local recruiters knows all about "Donna." They'd laugh me out of the office. I'd run away but where the hell would I go? Where would I live? And how would I get a job? And I'd still be alone. Time to face the fact. I HATED being alone.

I almost started crying, but I caught myself. "I need to take charge," I croaked, and laughed at the thought of it instead. "I need to get a handle on this. Get on top of it. I can do that. Just got to figure out what I got to work with."

So I lay there on the tile, and I thought about it and thought about it, and finally came up with a plan. You would've been proud of me, Doug. I was finally taking charge. I'd take away their punching bag for good and all, and when the jerks came back next week for round two, I just wouldn't be here.

Like I said, you would have been proud.

So, this is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna put this in an envelope addressed to you, and stick it in the stack of stamped mail Dad still hasn't dropped at the post office. Hopefully, he won’t notice an extra letter, and you'll get this in a week or two. So somebody will know what I went through.

Then, I'm gonna go crawl into the bathtub with Mom's bottle of Valium, a fifth of Dad's Jack, and my good old Swiss Army knife. I'm gonna wash down the pills with the booze, and then slit my wrists deep -- just as soon as I get too doped up to care.

And when they get home from wherever they are, they'll find me there, in the tub, in the pink "Hello Kitty" tee-shirt and the soaked diaper and the pool of blood, with a sign on my chest that pretty much sums it all up.

"SURPRISE."

Peace out, Doug. And thanks for listening.

Your bud,

Don

Casual cruelty for entertainment's sake always makes me burn. And even though I tried not to respond to Jezzi's little tale with one of my own, keeping my anger in just made Don's story bubble up to the surface. I know it hurts, people. Or at least it should hurt -- it hurt me enough just writing it. But I've sort of been in Don's position before, both betrayed and ostracized. So it loses its entertainment value for me -- not that cruelty has much to begin with, for me.

Sorry for any pain I may have caused ... if you felt it. -- Randalynn