“Fucking Run!!!!!!” I roared, frightening him into doing as I said.
All that was still sticking up of me was my head. The shots died down. The man at the edge picked up the kid and carried him on his side like the baby he was. It hurt to breathe.
My wounds pumped pain with every heartbeat. I winced at it. Fat drops of sweat trailed from my temple down my cheek. It was impossible to breathe. I looked at the big blue ocean before me. It was beautiful enough to be the last thing I’d see in thislifetime, but nowhere as gorgeous as her. God, I had been so close to truly saving her.
I was in and out. The memory of that night in her dorm room, the way her eyes rolled in the midst of euphoria, and the way she whimpered and enveloped me, and for a second, I didn't know if I was there or on the sand, if I was dreaming or awake.
“Tristan!” he screamed again. I heard his fast steps and the unhinged panic in his voice.
Everything went black.
“Wake up! Wake the fuck up!” The sting on my cheek told me what I already knew. This had been the second time I’d ever seen him like this, desperate. “I can’t believe what you did! Why would you do that? Why the fuck would you do that to me?” he screamed as they loaded me on some wooden piece and carried me toward the house. I was so dizzy, and the pain didn’t allow me to breathe or talk. He was holding my hand by my side as they walked.
Everything went black.
Three days later
It was so fucking hot I was sure the coolness of the hard bed beneath me was because of my sweat. I would’ve taken another shot for a glass of water. Then it all came to me. The boy. Where was he?Please tell me he didn’t kill him. Please, God.
I coughed and winced at the ache in my throat. Fuck, that hurt. “Oh my God. Thank God. Tristan!” By the time he said my name, he was at the side of my bed, his face holding so much agony. “How could you do that to me? Are you out of your mind?”
“W-wher—” Another cough. I grabbed a hold of my throat.
“Shhh. Here, drink some water.” With a straw, I drank the water slowly.
“You could have died, do you know that?” he yelled so violently his hair bounced into his eye. The volume vibrated my brain, as if I’d had my head in a church bell while it rang.
“What were you thinking?”
“Th-the boy?”
“That’s what you care about? Not how you worried the shit out of me? Not how you almost killed yourself?”
“Ww-hat did—” I swallowed again, noticing it didn’t hurt as much. “You promised, Francois. Y-you... p—” My eyes brimmed with tears. I couldn’t believe how much it hurt. I thought I was numb to his conniving twisted games, but still, after all these years, he managed to hurt me just as badly as the first time. I was ashamed to still be susceptible to him. It was as if I was still that little boy, gullible and vulnerable and too fucking empathetic. He couldn’t be truly decent, not even after all the depravity I’d done for him, because of him. “Y-you promised me no more. We had an agreement.”
He sat there, stunned as my tears left trails, cooling my face. It appeared as if some pain had wrinkled his face into a grimace. He even dropped his head in shame. It was the first time I’d ever seen shame on him. He turned his head to look out at the narrow balcony at the sea.
“You promised,” I repeated. “Please… no more.”
“Tristan, I want to do right by you.” He nodded, finally looked at me, and grabbed my hand, curling his fingers into mine. “I do.” He paused while sobbing. “But I’m a sick bastard. I can’t help what I crave. You won’t believe me, but…” He leered my chest and then gawked at my fingers he was holding. “I’ve been faithful to you.” He sniveled. “I know what you’ve been doing…”
My heart stopped. Was he talking about me tracking their bank accounts and money, gathering as much information and evidence as possible against them?
“I know you’ve been trying to satisfy my proclivities and greed while also making the business as humane as possible. You’ve been tearing yourself in half for me. But I also know you’ve never loved me. You’re disgusted by me and my cravings. You don’t understand the fight I’d have toendure for you,” he screamed. “The things I’ve kept away from, given up, all for you and because of this, you don’t appreciate any of it!” He lay his head on my belly while sobbing and wailing like a child. I placed my hand on his head as his body shook, but I couldn’t decide if it was real pain, lies, manipulation, or all the above.
“Am I ever going to be enough for you? Is there anything I can do so that you can finally feel satisfied and not hurt another child? I’ve betrayed and broken myself into as many pieces as possible so that you would finally feel loved, happy… satisfied.”
He lifted his head. “You have defied me in front of everyone, Tristan! The truth is I’ve spoiled you way too much. It was a mistake to fall in love with my slave. Do you have any idea whatthis means? Do you have any idea what position you’ve put me in?”
My heart raced at the question as I realized he was crying because of what was to be done to me, not because he felt tortured by the complexities of his life and our relationship.
“You pushed me to do this.” I paused, checking his eyes to see how true it was. Joy pulled at the corner of his eyes, but it was very subtle. “You knew I’d get triggered by it and try to stop you. And now you have a reason to torture and humiliate me in front of everyone so then after you can cry your eyes out, asking for my forgiveness. Isn’t that what we always do?” I shrugged. He didn’t answer me. “So, when will this be?”
“Tomorrow. Get some rest,” he stated with the coldest tone.
I was sure having me alone in the room wondering if the boy was still alive and what the hell they were going to do to me was part of the punishment. But the fever I had didn’t allow me to stay awake for long.
Itdidn’thappenthenext day or the day after that because I had a dangerous fever that made me lose all awareness of reality. I kept coming in and out, trying to remember all the secrets I was keeping from him and trying not to reveal anything. I had night terrors about her being tortured and killed and about my childhood with him. He was nowhere to be seen. The only times I saw him, it was like seeing a ghost, and I didn’t know if it was real or not. Doctors and male nurses took care of me day and night. They kept giving me drugs for the fever and antibiotics, then disinfecting the wounds. It turned out one of the bullets had left fragments behind, and that’s what my body was fighting.
