Trevor finished unbuttoning the shirt and spread it open, his cold hands reaching for Chris’s chest. “I missed your skin.”
“Trevor—”
“Shh, let me enjoy this.” He sniffed Chris’s neck. “I love it when you sweat.”
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” He both dreaded the answer and wished to know the truth.
“Jesus, are you crazy? I’m not going to kill you.” Trevor stroked Chris’s cheek, their eyes locked. “You’regoing to kill yourself.”
*
By the time Andy got back into the living room, Trevor had finished removing Chris’s clothes and bound his hands to the front. When Chris demanded to hear more about Trevor’s plan, he’d gotten a firm refusal.
Trevor laughed when Andy entered the room. “You look like you came back from working at the mine.”
“Everything here is dusty and gross. I miss my room.”
“Your room isn’t going anywhere, and at least I got the fireplace going. Come keep Danny company while I bring stuff from the car.”
“Food?”
“Yeah, I brought food. Don’t expect anything fancy, though; we’re on a budget.” He turned to Chris. “Should I waste my breath explaining what will happen if you do anything stupid?”
“No. Can you please close the window?” Now that the sun had set, the cold wind felt like ice fingers on his skin.
“Sure.” Trevor closed the window, then stepped outside.
Andy came to sit next to Chris, his weight causing the rusty couch springs to squeak. As much as Trevor scared him, at least Trevor was somewhat predictable and could occasionally be reasoned with.
Andy sat close enough for his breath to reach Chris’s face. “How are you, Daniel?”
“Well, I’ve been kidnapped, Andy, so things aren’t so great.”
“Oh, right. Hmm, anything that I can do to help?”
“Let me go.”
“I don’t think that I should do that. Please don’t try to trick me. Have you read any good comics lately?”
“I don’t read comics.”
“Then I’ll give you some of mine!”
As Chris had always expected, Andy remained stuck in the past, a disturbed child who had never been forced to either grow up or get help. Chris remembered the constant battles between Trevor and his parents over that, while secretly praying for Andy to be sent away, where his broken mind could either be fixed or drowned in drugs.
Andy’s little eyes traveled down. “I can see your willie. Hello, Willie!” He reached for Chris’s balls, cupping them in his damp palm.
Chris tensed but didn’t move. The only way to handle Andy was to endure. The man was like a claw, and once he got his hold on you, struggling only hurt more.
He hissed when Andy closed his fingers on his right testicle. For a few moments, he held firmly as Chris’s heart rate accelerated. Then, gradually, the pressure grew, sharp and nauseating. Chris bit down on his lower lip and shut his eyes, trying to focus on his breaths andnot on the pain.
Andy began to hum, the familiar sound like nails scraping across Chris’s skin. He still heard that sound from time to time, sneaking into his dreams until he awoke in cold sweat.
The front door opened as Trevor returned. “It’s getting cold outside! Andy, bring some plates and glasses. Come on, I’m starving.”
Andy let go, and Chris sighed in relief, although the pain still lingered.
“Wash everything before you bring it!” Trevor called as Andy left the living room. “Are you ready for a reunion celebration, Danny boy?” On the dusty table, he placed different bottles of alcohol.
