Ever swiped at the tears on his cheek. “I sound so dumb.”
“You do not. When did you choose Ever as your name?”
Ever shrugged. “Happily ever after… It was my favorite part of every fairy tale book. It implied that no matter how bad things got, afterwards they got to be happy. I would say it over and over again. If I could just get through my bad stuff, I would be happy ever after. Every beating, every attack, every time someone touched me against my will, I would just repeat it to myself. Happy ever after. Happy ever after. Until, one day, the Ever in ‘happy ever after’ was me. So, when you asked…that’s how I answered.”
“What’s embarrassing about that?” Arsen managed, words thick.
Ever shrugged. “I was a nineteen-year-old, living in a closet, clinging to a baby book of fairy tales. It’s stupid and lame and hopeful…and embarrassingly naive.”
Arsen frowned at him then took Ever’s hands, kissing each of his palms. “Hope is never stupid.”
To Ever’s horror, he burst into tears. Arsen jolted into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around him.
“I’m sorry,” Ever sobbed.
Arsen shook his head against Ever’s. “For what?”
Ever flailed. “I-I don’t know. I’m just…sorry.”
Arsen sighed heavily but held Ever tighter. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, but if you just want to cry…then cry.”
Ever didn’t want to cry, but he had no choice—the tears wouldn’t stop coming no matter how much he tried to stave them off. He cried until his face was on fire and his nose was stuffy and he was sure he was puffy and swollen. He cried until he had no tears left. Again.
“I don’t know why this keeps happening,” he whispered against Arsen’s chest an hour later.
“You don’t?” Arsen asked, kissing the top of Ever’s head. “If I had been through what you’ve been through, I might never stop crying. The fact that you wake up and smile every day is so fucking impressive. Like…you’re the strongest of all of us.”
Ever’s eyes burned. “I’m just so…tired.”
“Of course, you are,” Arsen said. “Who wouldn’t be? Let’s just get some sleep.”
Ever nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Arsen kissed the top of his head. “Good night,besenok.”
“Good night…Senya.”
Ever wasn’t okay.
The change didn’t start as anything overt; there was no key moment Arsen could point to and say this was the day he noticed it. It was subtle, insidious—creeping in a bit at a time, unnoticed. The more Ever went to therapy, the closer his trauma floated to the surface, and that was affecting him in a number of ways. Something Dr. Jones assured Arsen was normal, even if it did nothing to make him feel better about it.
It started with nightmares, something Arsen was all too familiar with. Some nights, Ever would whimper and whine and mumble, but remain asleep. Those nights, just holding him seemed to be enough to ward off whatever memories were tormenting him. Other nights, he would wake sweaty and screaming, fighting Arsen in his disoriented state. But whenever Arsen asked what he’d dreamed about, Ever would always just blink and smile through his tears, saying he didn’t remember.
Arsen didn’t fault him for the lie. He knew better than anyone that talking about the nightmares only prolonged the space they occupied in your mind. He would provide whatever distraction Ever needed. Sometimes, that was sex. Ever would demand that Arsen fuck him—use him—until Ever was too exhausted for anything but a dreamless sleep. Other times, he’d put his headphones on and listen to music, wrapped around Arsen like he was a body pillow.
But, day after day, Ever’s nightmares started bleeding into his reality. More often than not, Arsen woke not to find Ever struggling with sleep but missing from their bed entirely.
Like now.
Arsen blinked open bleary eyes, glancing at the digital clock on the side table. It was a little after three in the morning. Ever was gone…again. Arsen sighed, rubbed his lids, then rolled to his feet in one fluid movement. The first few times he’d woken to find Ever missing, the panic had almost killed him, but now, he just felt a pang of sadness as he padded barefoot and shirtless into the living room.
Ever sat on the sofa in his sleep shorts and Arsen’s t-shirt, gazing down into the bay like he was keeping watch. Which he was. He grew increasingly paranoid every day, certain the people who’d taken him would come back again and make good on their threat to sell him back into slavery. Arsen wanted to assure him that wasn’t the case, but until they figured out how deep the trafficking ring went, they were stuck in limbo.
The Mulvaneys’ hacker, Calliope, had run down not one but two previous cases of human trafficking in Jamesville—a massage parlor, which had a handful of women being trafficked for sex, and a rich couple, who had a woman working as a domestic servant for over ten years. In those cases, the focus was on punishing the abusers, not how the victims ended up in the hands of those abusers. Which was really no help to them.
When Arsen touched Ever’s shoulder, he jumped, then looked up at him, expression guilty. “Sorry.”
“Why are you up so late,besenok?” Arsen asked, sitting beside him then tugging him into his lap.
