Post by jovany vance kordell on Feb 1, 2011 21:36:16 GMT -8
jovany vance kordell , *
twenty six . musician . the rev
twenty six . musician . the rev
HOLLY WOOD WHORE, PASSED OUT ON THE FLOOR
i'm sorry, but the party's over.
i'm sorry, but the party's over.
birth to five years ,
antony and michelle kordell were married for three years when antony decided he wanted a child, a son. michelle wasn’t exactly for the idea, but they tried for it anyway. after a year of fruitless attempts, the couple gave up. however, quite unexpectedly, michelle ended up pregnant six months later. they were graced with a beautiful baby boy, jovany vance, and he immediately became his father’s pride and joy.
when jovany was born, kordell was a big name in the music industry. antony was a producer with two goals in life. one was to raise his son to become a man antony would be proud of, and the other was to produce one of the best bands america had ever seen. michelle supported antony one hundred percent, but she wasn’t sure how he could balance work and raising jovany at the same time. turns out, antony was a brilliant father. he was super dad, always at home, looking after jovany while michelle worked her nine to five office job.
the year jovany turned two, antony discovered his claim to fame: montley crue. the studio became the place where jovany would grow up. he spent his days surrounded by music and his father’s world, while his nights were consumed by his mother’s food and her knowledge. jovany spent his early years in a loving home, in the best of both worlds.
during jovany’s “mommy time”, antony spent the nights living the entertainment business’s lifestyle. he drank himself into stupors and tried every drug under the sun. montley crue was bad for the man, but not for the father. despite that he had become a drug addict and an alcoholic, he was still there to raise jovany. in between the lines of coke in the bathroom and the hastily hidden beer bottles, antony became the man jovany would look up to.
instead of going to preschool, jovany went to work with antony and made trouble in the studio. he grew up with motley crue and the secretarial ladies who snuck him all the candy he was never allowed. besides learning the alphabet and all of his numbers and colors, jovany learned the ins and outs of the music business. granted, he was too young to understand most of it, but he was interested and smart kid.
by the time he was five, jovany was living his father’s dream with a smidgen of reality thrown in. he was truly his father’s son. of course, jovany loved his mother, his sensible and overly loving mother, but his father’s world was simply more fun than hers and to any five year old, the choice wasn’t hard to make.
six to eleven years ,
kindergarten came as a reality check to jovany. he was suddenly thrust into a world he knew almost nothing about. for the last five years he had been living a fairytale life and this world was very different from his own. there were rules that weren’t meant to be broken and other children his age to play with and jovany was overwhelmed. the bubble antony had built around jovany was suddenly crashing down upon him and he had nowhere to run to. jovany took advantage of this, however. he learned what was expected of him, of people. he became more observant, instead of caring about the school skills he’d need later, jovany memorized the social norms and the world’s expectations.
at the same time, antony’s world was crashing down as well. montley crue was leaving the studio and while they thanked antony for building them up to their current prestige, he was no longer needed any more. the kordell name was in shambles and antony was as well. the lines of coke he used to do in the bathroom were no longer secret and the beer bottles no longer made it to the trash can. antony lost everything, even his parenting skills.
in the first grade jovany watched drugs and alcohol destroy the only man he had ever looked up to. he watched as the strongest man he knew became the weakest. jovany was unable to take school seriously. for a seven year old, he was learning pretty quickly that knowledge didn’t necessarily get you anywhere in life. after all, his father was a college graduate, yet, he was committing a slow moving suicide. despite michelle’s attempts to hide antony’s addictions from jovany, he knew what was going on. he knew that the man he loved wouldn’t be around much longer. jovany understood.
so when the man he called dad died when he was eight, jovany didn’t cry. he had been steeling himself for this for a year already and when it happened, it was expected. jovany took two lesson’s from this. he told himself that he would never become his father and that knowledge obviously meant nothing in this world, in “reality.” it was then that he stopped caring about school. little eight year old jovany no longer cared about anything the school had to teach him, he was simply going to have to each himself.
for the next two years, jovany barely coasted through school on his own. he didn’t talk to or play with the other students. he didn’t want to. he was content with living a solitary life, only accepting his mother into his new world. michelle was just as broken as jovany was and that was what they bonded over. the woman who before then, had only been a fixture in his life, suddenly became his lifeline. jovany needed her like he needed air and she gave him anything she could to keep him afloat. as the days passed, he grew stronger again, but they stayed best friends. that’s what she was to him, a friend.
twelve to seventeen years ,
despite the change of school, junior high was no different for jovany. he didn’t want friends and he didn’t want the knowledge the teachers tried to cram into his brain. he would do just enough to scrape by, not retaining much of anything. he didn’t care if people hated him or if they liked him or if they wanted to be his friend. jovany didn’t want to talk to them and he had no plans to. end of story.
except, it wasn’t. the seventh grade was something miraculous for jovany. he made a friend other than his mother. synan osman was that friend. there was no real reason for jovany to become syn’s friend, he simply did. he was less idiotic and less ego centric the other boys jovay’s age. but the two were nothing alike. syn’s life wasn’t perfect like that of his peers. syn wasn’t deluded into thinking that life was good by receiving shiny toys and nice clothes. syn realised that the world was not a perfect place and that escaping the life he had would be marvelous. despite the fact that jovany had the shiny toys and nice clothes, he thought the same way syn did.
the escape from syn’s life became jovany’s house. as the years passed, michelle grew into the mother figure everyone would die to have. she was the baker and the chef with the cool mom attitude. she was a natural mother. so when jovany dragged syn home late one night, declaring that they were having a sleepover, or else, michelle let them. but of course, she dragged jovany off to the side and asked him why. all he could tell her was what he knew. syn’s home life was hell. michelle felt for him and from then on, their door was always open to syn.
one night turned into three and three nights turned into a week and the week was suddenly weeks, which were then months. the nights they spend hauled up in jovany’s room were the nights they got to know each other and learned to trust each other. syn and jovany were not trusting people, yet, they somehow learned how to trust each other. they each guarded secrets for the other, so it became an unspoken understanding that they could not spill the other’s secret or their own would not be kept. it was the perfect situation for the two. finally they had someone to listen to them, after all those years.
syn became part of the family. michelle was no longer ‘michelle,’ she was mom to both of the boys and syn was more of a brother to jovany that just a friend. on syn’s fourteenth birthday, michelle gifted syn with a key to their house and the guest bedroom down the hall from jovany. of course, the room was no longer a guest room, it was, from then on, syn’s room whenever he was over at jovany’s house.
syn destroyed the outer shell jovany had built around himself. no longer was he the boy who refused to talk and simply observe. syn wouldn’t have that. he took jovany from being the quiet kid, to a kid who would and could talk and defend himself. thanks to syn, jovany was a functioning member of society. mostly.
in the next year, jovany grew up. he stopped viewing the world singularly. the place he lived suddenly mattered to other people and other people did affected him. calm, gentle, soft spoken jovany changed. the boy he had been when he was a child was gone forever. syn made sure of that. in his place was a boy much like syn, without the wear and tear of the world on his shoulders. in a way, they were similar, simply coming from different home lives.
sixteen was supposed to be a big year for jovany and syn. it was. just, not the way they had planned. there was no big birthday party, no fancy cars or grants of money. instead, jovany’s sixteenth birthday was spent in the hospital, standing with syn next to michelle’s hospital bed. it was cancer, and they’d caught it too late. she had been sick for months, but she never complained, and it had never been this bad before. michelle was a fighter, though and she was out of that hospital as fast as they would allow her.
jovany knew that the only reason she came home was to die at home, but he wasn’t going to confront her about it. the doctors told them that they would try chemo and radiation and that hopefully, they would be able to give michelle at least six more months. three days before her first chemo session, michelle died in their living room, watching her last episode of ‘all my children.’
after that day, jovany would never be the same. sitting on the couch with syn and watching his mother die, messed with his head. the world was no longer beautiful to him and jovany realised that this was his punishment. this is what he got for having such a wonderful home life. this is what he got for having a family and a mother who loved him. this is what he got for living the good life while his best friend was under a constant shadow of hate and anger. this was what jovany deserved.
he took her death as well as he could, but there was no preparation this time. he had no forewarning, all he had was syn. they turned to each other, seeking comfort. it was one of the hardest days jovany had ever had and syn was just as heartbroken as he was. the woman that has essentially rescued him from the hell of a place he called home was gone and he would have to return with no escape. all syn had now was jovany.
that night, after michelle’s funeral, something unspeakable happened. the boys had knew they each liked the same sex, as well as the other, since they were fifteen and that night the lines between friendship and something more were blurred. in moments of need, they had always been there for each other. syn would allow jovany to hold him if he showed up at the house, late in the night, needing to escape his mother, and jovany would accept the same from syn on the anniversaries of his father’s death. so, when they collapsed on the couch after the funeral, relishing in the simple comfort of the other’s arms, it was nothing new. jovany leaning in and pressing his lips to syn’s, however, was not a regular occurrence.
this had never happened before. jovany didn’t know about syn, but he had wondered what it would be like for a while. syn was attractive and he knew it. it was only a matter of time before something like this came about. jovany wasn't sure if it was the fact that they were both distraught or if they had both wanted it for some time, but what he was sure of was that syn never stopped him.
they kissed, testing the waters for a moment, and then dove in head first. neither of them expected anything soft or loving, that was reserved for women and people that they loved, and despite each one loving the other boy, they didn’t love like that. their time together was frenzied and needy. it was about knowing that they still had someone in the world who needed them. what jovany started, jovany would finish. syn understood jovay’s unspoken request; jovany needed control back and, for once, syn would give it to him. it wasn’t usually how their friendship worked, but that night, it did.
what was syn’s first time, was jovany’s as well. in the past, jovany found that his hand worked for him quite fine, yet this night, that just wasn’t going to cut it. syn allowed jovany to take him, to find his control again. but it wasn’t just about jovany. jovany made sure that syn understood it was about him too. michelle was no longer just jovany’s mother, but she was syn’s too, and they had both lost her. that night was syn’s way of allowing jovany to comfort him, to tell him it was going to be okay, to make him realise that jovany would be there with him through everything.
but when jovany woke up the next morning, the look on syn’s face told him everything he needed to know; that night was going into the vault and never coming out. jovany was strangely okay with this realization. there were no hard feelings between them because the boys were simply better off as friends and brothers, rather than lovers.
the sex wasn’t an instant cure all, but it did give jovany a baseline for sex. it gave him hope that maybe sex would always be a comforting reassurance that someone loved him. then andrew hunter came along and blew that theory out of the water.
andrew was jovany’s first boyfriend and what jovany thought would be his last. andrew was a senior at the high school jovany and syn went to. he was a first string football player: the school’s best linebacker. andrew came off as a cocky guy who knew who he was and what he deserved, but andrew could be charming and charming he was to sweet sixteen year old jovany who was still distraught over michelle’s death. only weeks after she died, andrew approached jovany in the locker room after their shared gym class. he whispered sweet things to jovany and told him how beautiful he was. jovany fell for it all.
in the beginning, andrew was perfect. he tried to help jovany scrounge up the money to keep the huge kordell house running in perfect condition, but then the money ran low and jovany had no access to his trust fund and his life was beginning to fall apart. it was when andrew offered to share his minimalistic apartment, however, that things really went to hell.
they had been dating for two months when it happened the first time; jovany wrote it off as an accident. they had been arguing over what to eat for dinner when andrew got sick of jovany’s indecisiveness. he yelled at jovany to “stop being a little fucking bitch,” and then he slapped him. immediately, andrew looked horrified. he gathered jovany up in his arms and whispered in his ear that he was amazing and beautiful and then andrew cooked them dinner that night. the second time it happened, it wasn’t an accident.
neither was the third or the fourth time and eventually, jovany just stopped counting. andrew stopped looking sorry and started hitting him in places that weren’t visible unless jovany was unclothed. the abuse that had been random, at best, became more frequent until jovany learned to expect it every day when andrew got home from working at the local taco bell. he’d get hit for not having the laundry done or having the dishes cleaned or not cooking dinner.
nothing he did was good enough for andrew and jovany began to care about very few things in the world. the school work he, before, did the bare minimum of was neglected almost completely and the school threatened to keep him from moving on to the eleventh grade. jovany found it impossible to care, but syn pushed him to finish out sophomore year. they would graduate from hell, together.
summer came upon jovany as a way to escape the hell he was now forced to call home. getting a job was acceptable to andrew, because it meant having more money in the house, and for the first time in their four month old relationship, jovany had some something right. the prospective job market was tough, though, and just as jovany was about to abandon his search, he was finally offered a job. jovany said yes, and that was the last time he would consent to something for years to come. his job was simple enough, carry the drugs from point a to point b and don’t get caught. jovany didn’t tell anyone about his new job or that his skinny white boy self was working for a gang that he technically didn’t belong to. andrew didn’t care where the money came from, he just cared that it was there.
jovany didn’t give him all the money, though. at the end of every week there were two hundred extra dollars in andrew’s pocket, and jovany hid the rest in a loose floorboard under one of the kitchen cabinets. he was saving up for an escape plan. jovany wouldn’t leave andrew, he would simply leave the house. he was too afraid of what andrew would do to him if he tried to leave him, but leaving the crappy studio apartment, maybe that he could handle.
the fourth of july was supposed to be the very beginning of jovany’s escape, his first abuse free day in four months, but as he was getting ready to leave for a complete thirty six andrew free hours, the look in andrew’s eyes signaled a glitch in jovany’s plans. for jovany to leave, he would need an exit slip of sorts. jovany steeled himself for andrew’s worst beating because the glimmer in his eyes was just too bright, but jovany didn’t get a beating that day; he got much worse. the words andrew spoke to him would be forever ingrained into jovany’s mind. “get on your knees, bitch, and suck my fucking dick.” hurrying to do as he was told, jovany scrambled to kneel in front of andrew who was stretched out on the couch.
there was no actual sucking of andrew’s dick involved. andrew grabbed jovany by his long, black hair and forced himself down jovany’s throat. all that consisted of jovany’s first oral experience was a whole lot of choking, gagging, and name calling. “how does it feel getting your mouth raped, you fucking whore?”
when it was all over jovany was left with a sore throat and a broken sense of self worth, but he was free to spend the fourth of july with syn. that was the first night he got drunk. that was also the first night he would tell syn the horrors of his relationship with andrew and that was the last time he would defend him.
syn was livid. all of the protecting jovany had done for him over the years was finally going to be paid back, except jovany wouldn’t let syn. murder had no bail and anything less had a bail that jovany wasn’t inclined to spend his escape money on, so syn wasn’t allowed to fight for him, no matter how much he wanted to. syn was jovany’s last earthly tie and without him, jovany wasn’t sure how long he would last in this place.
thoughts of suicide filtered through jovany’s head as the days after july fourth passed. he wondered if his death would really matter. andrew would probably be glad he was gone, the nuisance that he was, but syn would be devastated. jovany had to remind himself everyday when he woke up that he was alive for syn, and every time he got on his knees for andrew, because it had become a regular occurrence alongside the smacking and hitting, jovany thought of syn. he lived for syn now, he had to.
he managed to float through the rest of the summer, barely noticing as the days passed. they began to blend into one another, full of beatings, abuse, and molestation, but as august approached, things began to change. jovany took some of his saved up money and splurged. he went out and got himself his first tattoo. no one cared that he was only sixteen, they just cared that he had the money. he had handcuffs tattooed on the left side of his neck. they symbolised one thing: synan osman. jovany got that tattoo to remind him that syn would always be there, that syn was a part of him now, that syn was his tie to this world.
jovany was sick of floating. he was sick of the fact that the only feeling he felt was pain. he wasn’t going to coast anymore, he was going to find happiness. so, one day while andrew was at work, he dragged syn out to guitar center. music had been his father’s passion, the one thing to make him happy, so why couldn’t jovany use that to become his happiness? either way, he was going to try. he bought a rainsong hybrid series h-dr1100n2 dreadnought acoustic and he loved it.
from that moment, music became his life again. he had played the drums when he was a young child, but had given it up when his father died. jovany had never touched a guitar in the past, but now was a good a time as any. he couldn’t exactly haul a drum set into the small studio apartment that he was living in with andrew, but a guitar was manageable. oddly enough, bringing the guitar home seemed to calm andrew. jovany didn’t receive a beating that night and his mouth was safe as well.
jovany’s escape became music; it the one thing that made life worth living anymore. well, aside from syn. music calmed the beast inside andrew, minutely, but it made all the difference to jovany. for weeks, andrew reverted back to simply beating jovany. it was some of the worst beatings of his life, the kind that make getting out of bed in the morning an impossible feat, but his mouth was safe and his pride was somewhat still intact.
the day his junior year started, jovany was late to school. in fact, he missed the first three periods of school because he was too weak and too broken to pick himself up off the living room floor. andrew gave him his worst that morning. jovany couldn’t even mouth the words of what andrew had done to him, he couldn’t even think it. rape. how do you tell yourself you’ve been raped? jovany couldn’t.
when jovany finally dragged his broken body the three miles to the high school, and into this fourth class of the day, he was done. he had fought andrew and that had only made it worse. he felt as if he had been torn apart from the inside out. he shuffled into his class, wincing as he managed to settle himself into his seat. syn stared at him, eyebrow raised, but jovany just shrugged it off as another one of andrew’s horrible beatings. syn didn’t need to know how weak jovany truly was. syn had taught him better than that.
jovany began to hate himself. he wondered why he couldn’t be brave and strong like syn. that’s when the comparisons started. syn would never let this happen to him. he would never let someone take that away from him. syn was a stronger person than jovany would ever be.
two months into his junior year, jovany bought drugs from the gangbangers who had him run their drugs to their buyers. it was then that jovany became one of their “clients.” weed for the emotional pain and vicoden for the physical. being high was his escape from the world, it held him there, to syn, to life, but it took him far away from the beatings and rape that were becoming a regular occurrence with andrew.
day after day, jovany found himself collapsed on the floor, begging himself not to cry, not to be weak. he tried, but begging himself not to just wasn’t good enough. he hurt everywhere and his mind was a jumbled mess. he stopped going out as much, and for weeks on end, he avoided syn. he simply sat in his little corner of his and andrew’s apartment and smoked himself into a cloudy stupor. he couldn’t let syn see him like this, there was no way he would allow that.
finally, one saturday after all those weeks, syn showed up at, or more like stormed into, the tiny apartment. andrew always worked a double shift on saturdays and that was usually the time syn and jovany spent the most time together. jovany was propped up against the couch, still on the floor, and attempting to open a bottle of vicoden when syn made his entrance. jovany didn’t even have the energy to hide the bottle and frankly, he didn’t care anymore what syn did and did not know. well, he did care if syn found about the.. he still couldn’t even bring himself to think it. “open it?” was all jovany could manage, sticking a bruised arm out at syn, pleading with him.
later jovany cursed himself for letting syn see him so weak. syn was the person who had taught him to be strong, yet there he had been, watching jovany at his lowest. jovany realised then that it was because he trusted syn that much and that syn would be the only person he would ever let see him like that. jovany didn’t want to be weak, but around andrew, he had no choice.
from them on, life passed jovany in a glassy haze. his days were filled with beatings he couldn’t fully remember and and a body that no longer ached because of the pills he swallowed down each day. jovany was quickly becoming the man he had grown up to trust, the one and only antony kordell, the man he said he would never be. but there he was, taking more pills than people should and smoking himself crazy. jovany couldn’t help it, though. his life was more hell than his father’s ever was. jovany at least had a reason for the life he was living.
THE CAMERAS ARE GONE AND NOBODY SCREAMS
couldn't survive fifteen minutes of fame.
couldn't survive fifteen minutes of fame.
smith . bleed.me.red@hotmail.com . 5 + .