Resuscitation by D. M. Annechino Page A

She’d still be dead, her chest nearly cut in half, her heart sliced open. As pointless and illogical as it was, in a twisted kind of way, it was his way of honoring her, and it simply made Julian feel better.
    He wished he had found a more fitting location to leave her body. Surely, he could come up with a more suitable place than a park. For subject number two, he would rethink his options and search for a more appropriate setting.
    Julian sat on his sofa, rested his head, and drifted back to his childhood.
    His parents, affluent and successful, provided everything his obsessed curiosity desired throughout his childhood and teenage years. Everything but love. He always felt a void in his life, an emptiness he could never fill. No one in his family—not mother, father, or siblings—would openly show affection. Why didn’t his parents understand that they had a responsibility to provide more than just food, clothing, and shelter?
    On his birthday and special occasions like Christmas, they would shower him with expensive gifts, spoil him rotten, but the greatest affection he could expect was a peck on the cheek or a firm pat on the shoulder. Didn’t they realize that he would gladly trade all of his belongings just to hear his mother say “I love you”?
    Although he was a straight-A student, neither of his parents so much as acknowledged his performance in school. They quickly scanned his report card, scribbled their signature, and tossed it on the kitchen counter. He had been an exemplary Boy Scout, earning nearly every award from a square-knot patch to a medal of merit. He was first in his class throughout elementary school and won a national award for “Science Project of the Year.” Why wasn’t he able to get their attention and earn their respect? What did he have to do before his parents would acknowledge his accomplishments?
    Consequently, he turned to other areas of his life to find what he thought was true affection and recognition. So vulnerable and naïve was twelve-year-old Julian that his two older cousins, Marianne and Rebecca, barely past puberty, took full advantage of his hunger for love. They introduced him to a secret little game they called “Ticklish.”
    After school, nearly every day, long before their parents got home from work, his two cousins would lead him to a small shed in the backyard of his home. There, in the shadowy wood structure filled with garden tools and trash cans, he watched the girls pull down their panties. Taking turns, each cousin guided Julian’s hand under their Nazareth Academy pleated skirts and gave him specific instructions how to “tickle” them.
    “Right there,” Rebecca would say, sounding almost out of breath.
    “A little to the left,” Marianne would order. “Yes, yes, right there! Harder! Faster!”
    At times he thought his whole hand would go numb.
    Although it aroused him—after all, he was well on his way to puberty—he didn’t really like this game of Ticklish, and could never quite figure out why they moaned instead of laughed. For the first couple of weeks he thought he was hurting them. But they had convinced him that this is how you show your love. This is what cousins do. Afterwards, they would always offer to touch him “down there,” but even at such a young age he felt too embarrassed.
    “We let you touch us,” Rebecca would point out. “Why can’t we touch you?”
    “We’ll make you feel real good,” Marianne would add.
    They cautioned him that if he ever told anyone about their secret game, they would no longer be his cousins.
    When Julian had told his best friend about the secret game of Ticklish, George, two years Julian’s senior, nearly soiled himself laughing so hard.
    “Are you messing with me?” George had asked. “They’re letting you touch their pussies ? Did you screw them?”
    Julian stood silent.
    He finally understood that the game of Ticklish was no game at all, and he swore that one day he’d get even. After