So much was starting to make sense and, if possible, my heart broke even more over this situation. Then a terrifying thought filled my head; what if he was a psychiatrist? He would have had access to drugs. Had he forced any onto Brandon?
As my mind raced with thoughts, questions, and theories, I gently stroked his hair. How many other victims were there? I didn’t want to push Brandon too much, but now that I know Eli was potentially in psychology, I needed to press Brandon for Eli’s full name.
He woke up around dinner, and I strategically ordered us a pizza. Brandon loved pizza, and we needed to have a difficult conversation. While we ate, I broached the subject.
“Brandon, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but—”
“No,” Brandon interrupted and looked at me with fear-stricken eyes. Tears filled his eyes as his eyebrows furrowed. “No, James. You said … no, you promised!”
“Brandon, try to relax, pup,” I quickly encouraged when I noticed how fast his chest was rising and falling.
Tears spilled down his face, and he pressed his palms against his eyes.
“You promised,” he mumbled.
“Are you getting rid of me?” Brandon asked as his sad blue eyes locked onto mine.
“No, absolutely not. I promise, Brandon. I think you misunderstood, or maybe I didn’t do a good job starting that conversation.”
“You said you knew what you were about to say was the last thing that I wanted to hear.” He paused for a moment and then said, “The last thing I want to hear is that you’re done with me or want to get rid of me.”
“I promise you, Brandon, that was not what I was going to say.”
His face relaxed, and I reached over and messed up his hair. He apologized for jumping to conclusions and thinking the worst of things. Being abandoned was something that he truly feared, and I understood how deeply rooted that was.
“What I was going to say was that I really need for you to talk to me about Eli. No hiding or omitting anything, Brandon. Plain and simple, pup. I need to know.”
“Why?”
“Why? Brandon, someone who took an oath to help people had ill intent with you and Salem. I’m almost certain there have been others, and I’m certain there could still be others if he isn’t made to face the consequences.”
“No, it’s my fault for listening. I shouldn’t have.”
“Brandon, you were a boy!”
“I wasn’t! I was sixteen!”
Goddamnit. He was just sixteen when that son of a bitch began pulling him in.
“You were a minor, Brandon. I’m going to ask you the same thing Salem did; were you his patient?”
Brandon looked like he was thousands of miles away from me.
“Was he just the friend of the family who happened to practice medicine, or were you his patient?”
“Does it matter?”
“I need to know.”
“I’m not sick in the head! I wasn’t back then either!” Brandon got up from the table and cleaned up his dishes before storming off down the hall.
I gave him some space for a few hours but listened very carefully from the living room for him opening a drawer in the bathroom. I didn’t want him cutting, but if he felt like he needed to, I wanted to do it for him. Mainly for my own peace of mind that he wouldn’t go too far, and he’d be safe. Once it hit 8:30, though, I decided to go look for him and potentially turn in early.
As I walked toward our room, I could see that one of the nightstand lights were on. Brandon lay curled up on the bed in his jeans and a t-shirt. I sat on the bed beside him and rubbed on his side and back. One of his feet moved and drew my attention to it. I smirked at his socks, gray with foxes eating pizza.
“I’m sorry for my outburst. Please don’t make me sleep in the other room. I want to sleep here with you,” he mumbled.
“I only want you beside me, Brandon. If you had been in the other room, I would have crawled into that bed with you. I love you, and this is where you’ve slept. This is our bed, pup.”
