I scratch my head roughly as I close the mirror and look down at the mess on the floor. There’s not as much blood as I thought there was now that he’s not sitting in it. I quickly wipe it up with an old towel.
I finally find a small first aid box in the bottom drawer and rush back to find Charlie in the exact spot I set him in.
I hold my breath as I wait for his chest to rise and fall. He’s breathing so deeply that it takes him a second to take a breath in, giving me a mini heart attack.
I blow out a breath as I walk over to him. I remove his blood-soaked boxers and start cleaning off the dried blood all over histhighs. Inspecting the cuts, they aren’t deep enough for stitches but still look pretty bad. I spread the antibacterial cream on the two cuts, cover them with gauze, and secured them with tape. I grab a clean pair of boxers and slide them on him before pulling back the sheets and laying him down in his favorite spot. I place a soft kiss on his bruised hip before covering him and moving his hair from his face so I can kiss his eyelids.
“I love you, beautiful,” I whisper before kissing his forehead and stepping away.
I grab my bag from the corner and change out of my jeans. Opting for just shorts, I grab the cleaning supplies from under the sink in the kitchen and finish cleaning the bathroom on autopilot.
Picking up the bloody razor, I place it between a folded piece of paper and put it in my hockey bag.
With his bathroom cleaned and no sign of him waking up, I climb into bed behind him and pull his chilled body into my chest.
Maybe if I hold him tight enough to me, he won’t hurt himself again.
I let the smell of his ocean bodywash wash over me, my body relaxing for the first time tonight. The adrenaline rush plus the exhaustion from the game hits me as I settle into the pillow. With my nose nestled into the back of his neck, I let sleep take me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlie
Islowly open my eyes to my dark room. My head feels like I’ve been hit with a baseball bat. I wince as I look around and see Avatar is playing on my TV with the sound low.
I don’t remember turning that on or getting in bed. I lean back slightly but I’m met with cool sheets instead of a warm body.
Overwhelming sadness washes over me as I burrow into my blankets and stare blankly at the TV. I don’t know why I thought Shane would be here. He had a game last night and if they won, my father would have taken them out afterward, so he probably didn’t get back until late and went home.
I really need his arms around me to stop the memories ofhimand whathedid.
A shiver races down my body at the thought ofhimwalking through the door and his putrid, stale cigarette scent seeping into my lungs. I squeeze my eyes shut and wrap my pillow around my head trying to keep the memory away. But then his black eyes are right in front of me as his evil yellow smile makes my skin go cold all over again.
“Why do you look so scared, boy? I’m only here to make sure you’re keeping up your part of the deal.”
He steps away and looks around.
“At least there aren’t rodents running around.” He looks back at me, licking his lips. “How about we take a look at your room, huh? I’d like to feel those sheets, make sure they aren’ttoo scratchy for your delicate skin.” He reaches out to stroke the side of my face, but I step back before he can touch me, my heart racing when I realize what I just did. “N-no.” I stutter out past trembling lips. “You c-can look around and report to my f-father that my house is c-clean. You d-don’t need to touch m- anything.”
He stares at me with hardened eyes before laughing. “Looks like little Charles found a backbone. Too bad I don’t listen to little gay boys.” He laughs again as he steps towards me. “Now, either you go willingly, or I force you. You know I’m stronger than you, boy.”
He’s backed me up to my art room door. It’s cracked open so I hurriedly push it open and slam it shut behind me. Only it doesn’t close. His hand is sticking through, preventing the door from closing.
“No!” I push the door with all my strength hoping to hurt him enough that he’ll pull away, but he kicks the door, knocking me backward on my ass.
“You know I don’t like playing games Charles.” He growls, standing over me with his arms crossed over his stomach. “Get up. Your father is expecting my call. If you don’t cooperate,” he picks up the sculpture of Shane, “this pretty boy will be mine.”
I watch in horror as he drops it, pieces of gray clay shattering all over the floor.
“N-no! L-leave him a-alone!” I climb to my feet as my heart beats faster than it ever has before. My vision goes in and out as I shakily make my way over the broken pieces. When I get to the door, he grabs my arm in a bruising grip and pulls me up to his face.
“You’re going to be a good boy for me, or everything in your pathetic life disappears.” His spit hits my face as his disgusting breath burns my nose.
He drops me, and shoves me out of the room, and when I turn back, his hand is reaching for my hair.
I gasp at the feel of fingers in my hair. I move away and curl into a ball. “Please. No...” I whimper onto my knees as I hug them tightly to my chest.
“Shh, baby, it’s just me. You were crying in your sleep.”
