Torren doesn’t look at me as he speaks. He just tells me…everything. The joy he felt when he was finally adopted, the cruelty of his adoptive parents, the relationship he developed with Tobias that helped him survive, and the men who abused him.
“We didn’t always have them all in one place. Usually, they’d call my foster parents and make a “reservation” with either Tobias or me. Or both of us. We’d know a client was coming because they’d take us to the basement—”
Tears pool at the base of his eyes, but he shakes off the emotion and continues, keeping his eyes locked forward. “There was a bed, and we just had to wait for the client to come. Whatever he wanted to do…we did it.”
I want to hold his hand or wrap my arms around him, but I don’t know if that’s okay.
“One night…they took me downstairs, and I waited, but it wasn’t a client who wanted me. It was Paul Kay. We had to call him Mr. Kay, because he—”
His eyes close, neck bobbing as he swallows. “It doesn’t matter why, but he was the worst of them all. I must have been screaming or something, because Tobias snuck down with a knife and stabbed him in the back. Then he tossed me a knife and I just—”
This time, the tears do fall, staining his cheeks. “I just couldn’t stop myself. Then, Mrs. Kay came down, screaming and cursing, and we did it to her, too. It was like…once we’d let it out, we couldn’t lock it back in.”
Torren’s breathing intensifies, a wheezing sound lacing his exhalation. “I was in shock, I think, but Tobias sprang intoaction. He dragged them into their walk-in freezer, then smashed their safe with a sledgehammer. They did nothing digitally. It was all phone calls, but everything was spoken in code. Tobias wanted to find everyone’s contact numbers, but he found much more. The Kays kept addresses, numbers, names… all of it neatly handwritten in an old-fashioned Rolodex. I don’t know why those men would give the Kays that much information. I guess they’d do anything for—”
His voice trails off. “Can I walk? I need to…I don’t know. Move?”
“Of course.”
Torren stands up and paces back and forth. “Tobias had it all planned. I said we should call the cops, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t trust the police. I didn’t blame him—when you grow up in the system, you get used to adults disappointing you. He said we needed to do it—for other kids like us, and I believed him.” He stops for a moment. “This isn’t Tobias’s fault. That’s not what I’m saying. We both did it.Bothof us. I’m not blaming him, okay?”
I frantically nod, trying to be supportive without being overbearing.
Torren nods, then continues in a rush. “He sent out invitations, everything written in code, but basically describing a show that the two of us would put on—”
Torren closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling, and his fists clenched as his pacing slows.
“The night came. Tobias had liquor laced with the sedatives that Mrs. Kay popped like candy, set up on tables in the basement. They arrived one by one.” He stops, gripping his hair and releasing a frustrated grunt. “You should have seen them. They looked wild—practically salivating, theywere so excited. They couldn’t fucking wait—” he stops once more, rubbing his eyes. “They all drank the liquor and were completely out of it by the time we walked downstairs together. They could barely stand, let alone put up a fight.”
Then he stops. His body sagging as he lowers to a crouching position, using his hands to brace himself against the roof. “We chose blades. We chose what would create the most carnage because we reveled in it.” Tears fill his eyes when he looks at me. “We killed them all, Felix. I’m a monster.”
I don’t even hesitate. “No.” My voice has an edge to it because I refuse to let him think that. I rise, rushing toward him, and crouch beside him. “You are not a monster, Torren.Theyare. They hurt you and Tobias, and they would have hurt others.”
Torren looks up at me, his face a mix of shock and something else. Relief maybe? “That’s what Tobias said. That they’d hurt other kids.”
“He was right. Those men…they deserved what they got.”
True relief washes over Torren’s face for a fraction of a second before it twists into a look of anguish. “But I didn’t do it just because of that. I wanted to do it, Felix. I enjoyed it, and now look at me. I hurt you!”
His voice rises on the last sentence, bordering on a scream, so I wrap my arms around him. “Torren, you can’t carry what happened at theKitty Cat Clubanymore. Let it go. Please.”
He falls to his knees, leaning his body on mine, and I rub his back. “You were a child, Torren; a child that they abused because they’re repulsive pigs who got what they deserved. Who knows how many children you saved? You are not a monster. You felt trapped…”
Torren looks up at me with two vulnerable brown eyes, glistening with tears. “You’re not scared of me?”
His voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it. I caress his face, hoping that the conviction in my voice will assure him that I’m being honest. “No. I’m not scared of you, Torren.”
Torren closes his eyes, the tears streaming continuously now, and rests his head on my chest. His soft whimpers evolve, and he begins mumbling my name over and over again.
“What is it?” I ask him. “What do you need?”
As I say it, I pull back to look at him, resting a hand over his heart. Torren’s breath hitches, and he clutches my hand, pressing it harder to his chest.
Our eyes meet, and the sadness I see in his eyes makes me want to wrap him in my arms and protect him.
So I do.
I pull him closer and let him cry, rubbing the back of his head and kissing his temple.
