“I do have to say,” I muttered. At my words, Zeek held his breath, expecting the worst. “I think you need someone you can talk to. I know you said you didn’t like therapy, but there are other options. Perhaps there is another way, a better way.”
“No one understands, Jude.”
“Then talk to me,” I pled.
Zeek shook his head, peeling his eyes open to meet mine once more. “You already know everything. There’s no need to talk about it now.”
“Try me.”
“I’m fucked up. We both know that.” His words may have been quiet, but they were filled with self-hatred that ran so deep, it practically seeped from his pores. “When you were taken,” his voice cracked, “I died that day. I begged them to kill me. Instead, I ended up wishing for death more than I already had been. They cut me, Judah. They fucking cut me! It was like I was nothing more than a sheep to them.” He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.
After a moment, he continued. “I guess that’s all I was. Still am. They only wanted me to submit to them, and I refused. Though I probably should have. They drew out my punishment for days–weeks–I can’t be sure how long it was.” He pushed up from my lap and began to pace from one side of the deck to the other, his hands pulling at his hair.
Seeing the scars that littered his back, I had a good inkling of what had gone on after I was taken away from him. During the time we were held captive together, I thought I had been the one that relied on him. In reality, it was the other way around. I just didn’t realize it until right this moment. Fact was he needed me more than I needed him. Especially now.
The tables had certainly turned, and not for the better.
“Did they…rape you?” My heart sank as the words fell from my lips. I wasn’t entirely sure I actually wanted to hear the answer. I knew if it were the same as mine, I wouldn’t be of much help. My time after I was sold to a handler was much different than it had been while the two of us shared a cell. But that’s not to say it was much better before that. If it weren’t for Zeek, I don’t know what would have become of me.
Zeek shook his head. “May as well have been with everything else they did to me,” he paused, glancing at me. “I can’t be helped, Jude. I’m a lost cause. Don’t waste any more of your time on me. I’ll be fine. Just…go. Live your life.” He waved a hand in the air dismissively.
I stood and made my way to stand in front of him. Placing both of my hands on his upper arms, I held him in place. “I’m not going anywhere, Ezekiel. You’re stuck with me. Got it?”
He gave a slight nod, his breath hitching in his throat again.
“You survived, Zeek. You made it out alive.”
“But at what cost?” His eyes were pleading. For what, I didn’t know. “I don’t know how much more I can handle. The idea of you leaving me now that I finally have you back in my life…it tears me apart worse than anything else. I can’t deal, Jude. I don’t know how. I’m broken beyond repair. For fuck’s sake, I have to have pain in order to keep the panic at bay. And I know without a doubt in my mind that you could never do what I would need you to do. Not many can. Which is why I started going to Destri in the first place.”
His words may not have made much sense to someone who hadn’t experienced the things we’d endured, but to me, they did. Zeek needed the pain to function, to keep himself from ending it all. While it may not have been the healthiest, it was his way of coping.
“I understand all of it, Zeek. I do. And you’re right, I wouldn’t be able to do that to you.”
“She thinks I need therapy,” he sniffed, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, I can’t stop crying,” he groaned, swiping at the tears streaming down his face.
“I agree with her,” I nodded. “But you’re right. It isn’t for everyone.”
“I need it though. The pain, I mean. I can’t function without it. And now she refuses to do it anymore.”
“What if you go to a therapy session with me?” I suggested.
“What?” That made him do a double-take.
“Destri won’t do what you need until you do, correct?” He nodded, wide eyed. “Then why not come meet my therapist? If she can’t make a difference in one session, I’ll help you find someone who can do what you need.”
Ezekiel
Judah’s head lay in my lap, his eyes closed and legs spread out beside him while my hand ran through the dirty strands of his hair. If someone were to see him, they might have thought he was fast asleep. But I knew better. No one in their right mind could possibly sleep through the tormented cries that echoed from the floor above our heads.
I couldn’t tell you which man was begging for death this time. All I knew was that it wasn’t me or the kid. Which helped to ease my already fragile mind. Even if only slightly.
Focusing on Judah, I tried with all my might to keep the cries from those held against their will from doing more damage than had already been done to my psyche. After all, there was only so much crying and begging a person could take before it eventually drove them insane. The only question that remained was if it would be sooner, rather than later.
“I want to go home.” The kid’s voice was weak from lack of use, but I could still easily hear his words.
“Me too, Kid. Me too.” ‘Wasn’t that what we all wanted?’
“No one wants me there, though.” He opened his eyes, letting me see just how true those words were in the dim lighting of our cell. “They–my dad–kicked me out.”
