Garrett.
The invisible binds holding me in place snap at the same time my chest bursts with relief, and I lurch upright to grab him. A shot of agony slices across my mid-section, pain blazing a trail through me until I’m slumped back and writhing in discomfort.
“Shit! Stay still, Axe. I’ll be right back.” Garrett’s gone before I can beg him to stay, my outstretched hand desperately grabbing the air as agony of a different kind swallows me whole. He’s barely left the room, and I’m already contemplating jumping up to chase him, not giving a shit about the repercussions.
The small unloved boy in me would do anything for a simple hug, and the broken man I am only wants it from him.
The pain in my side has lessened to an intense throbbing by the time he finally returns, flanked by a monster of a man in a white coat.
What the fuck is happening?
Garrett re-joins me in the bed and presses a kiss to my sweat-covered brow before pulling down the cover to expose me. Revealing me to this stranger. Suddenly, my worst fears take a turn, and I discover a new way for them to torture me. Garrett is tugging up the material covering my torso, presenting me like his prized whore. My eyes begin to swim, vulnerability sending tremors along my skin.
“It’s okay, Axel. Trust me, it’s going to be okay.” I remain as still as possible, trusting his steady gaze. His hands stroke my arms as he makes an effort to block the man from my view. My body jerks as a second pair of hands skates over my ribs, my breathing hitching in suspense.
Count the stars. Each point, and then it’ll be over.
Something sticky is peeled back from my ribs. A bandage maybe. It tears and tugs at my skin, bringing with it a searing pain. Spikes of fear course through my body like tremors, like harsh needles piercing my skin.
“He’s panicking,” the man says from a distance. My head is slow to follow the conversation, separating me from the room I refuse to be in. Not here, not with Garrett holding me down, not with the cool air brushing my exposed skin like long, spindly fingers. I inhale sharply, choking on the phantom scent of expensive perfume. “He’s going to do himself some damage if he doesn’t remain still.”
“Axe, I need you to relax, okay?” Garrett pleads, but how can I? I don’t know this man, but I know what happens in this bed. I know how the pain lingers long after the physical effects are done. How I’ll have to relive it every night, with the new addition of Garrett pinning down my shoulders and sneering in my face. I have to stop this before it gets to that point. I can’t let Garrett become one of the monsters I run from.
“I’m going to have to sedate him.”
“No, please. I’ve only just gotten him back.” Garrett links his fingers in mine, gripping my hand tightly every time I hiss or wince from whatever is being done to me. His eyesight doesn’t flicker from mine the entire time, his undivided attention doing little to warm the coldness sweeping through my limbs. Vaguely, I feel myself shaking from head to toe, a layer of sweat seeping into the bedsheets beneath my back.
“He’ll wake shortly. If he punctures his lung again, he’ll have to go back to theatre.”
I stare at Garrett. I beg him with my eyes, pleading with him to end this. To send this man away and wrap his arms around me, tell me I’m not actually back in this hellhole. But he doesn’t do any of that. With a resigned nod, Garrett ducks his head aside, avoiding my watery gaze.
The sharp scratch of a needle is pushed into the crook of my free arm, a rush of cool liquid filling my veins, which has my muscles tensing. Almost immediately, I can feel the pull of drowsiness starting to drag me under, away from him. Droplets pool in the shell of my ear as tears stream down my face, my vision blurring in my desperation to stay in his warmth.
The pull of unconsciousness is merciless, dragging me back into the void I fought so hard to escape. My limbs feel like lead, but my mind flails, clawing to stay in the moment, to remain tethered to Garrett’s voice and touch. His warmth is the only anchor keeping me from spiraling, and even that’s slipping away with every shallow breath.
“I’ll be right here, Axe,” Garrett whispers, his voice cracking. “I’m not going anywhere.” I try to hold onto those words, let them wrap around me like armor, but the drug is too strong, and soon, the glowing stars above me fade to black.
“-an abundance of krill attracts other visitors to the Peninsula in the summer. Antarctic Minke Whales.”
Garrett’s voice has filtered through the depths of my slumber several times before, but this is the first time I’ve been able to rouse enough to wonder what the fuck he’s talking about. My senses are dulled as if I’m wrapped in thick cotton, but my ears prick just enough.
“They use their pointed heads and short dorsal fins to give them endurance-”
When I open my eyes again, the world is still blurry at the edges. The pain in my side is muted but persistent, a throbbing reminder that I’m alive. The stars on the ceiling glow faintly in the darkness, their soft lightcasting familiar shapes on the walls. For a moment, I wonder where I am.
Then the smell hits me. Dust, stale air, and the faint lingering trace of my mom’s perfume. She’s embedded into the walls, her shrewd gaze sweeping through every shadow of every room. It’s like being punched in the gut. The memories I’ve spent years trying to bury come rushing back, suffocating me. This house, this room… it’s the last place I ever wanted to be.
A low groan seeps from my achingly raw throat.
“Axel?” Garrett’s voice cuts through the haze. I blink, my gaze shifting to find him reclined next to me on the bed, his expression etched with worry. Fading bruises line his throat, and his eyes are sunken. His hair is disheveled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, as if he hasn’t left my side.
His hand cups my cheek, a relieved smile waiting for me when I manage to open my eyes. The room is a thousand times too bright, the permanent grogginess embedded into my skull magnifying tenfold. Breathing causes discomfort, so I lie perfectly still, trying not to move my limbs. Regardless, each inhale burns the back of my throat.
I want to speak, to tell him I’m okay, or at least lie convincingly enough to ease that pained look in his eyes, but all I manage is a rasping sound. Garrett leans forward, his hand warm and steady as it cups my cheek.
“Don’t try to talk yet,” he murmurs. “You’ve been through hell, Axe. Just… let me take care of you.” He darts away, returning with a cup of water and straw, helping me to slowly sip. I pant around the straw, dropping my head back. Garrett says I’ve been through hell, and that’s exactly how I feel.
The door creaks open, and my body tenses instinctively, the shadows in the hallway sending a chill down my spine. Huxley steps inside, his expression carefully neutral but his eyes sharp as they scan the room. Settling on me, he forces a small smile.
