Can’t forget that little detail.
“Most of it is true. I wish it wasn’t, but it is.”
Owen shifts next to Will, as if looking for protection inside the jacket. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you help him?”
Anger warms Will’s blood, but he focuses on his breathing. “Let me tell my side of things, and then you can ask me whatever you want.”
“Okay.”
Will closes his eyes, going back to the best and worst years of his life, though the bad greatly overshadowed the good. “Joel was the most intense human being Ihave ever met. He could get anyone to like him in five minutes. I fell for him hard after he came on to me. I didn’t even think of coming out back then, but with Joel, I finally had a reason to. He actually insisted I come out to my family and friends. Back then, I thought he wanted to empower me, but now I think it was more about making me live the way he thought was right. He had this way of making you feel like you were wrong, but he was so nice about it, you didn’t think to question him.” Will knows how bad he must sound talking negatively about a dead man he used to love, but the truth isn’t pretty, and he’s not going to sugarcoat it.
“I knew about his mom’s mental issues, and Joel loved talking about her openly. He’d do something wild or dangerous, then say,maybe I’m turning into my mom?I hated when he said that, partly because I already suspected he was having issues. It started small, from sudden anger outbursts to moments of deep sadness. I was always on my toes around him, but when it was good, it was worth it, at least for a while.” Will takes a breath, his eyes still closed. “He was bigger than me and stronger, but he preferred being the bottom, and I was fine with that. I loved making love to him, and for about two years, he had no complaints. When his mood swings got worse, he started saying we were too safe in bed, too boring because—apparently—I was taking him for granted and barely putting in the effort. Since sex was so important to him, I tried to make things moreinteresting, but I was wasting my time because Joel didn’t want it to be more interesting, just more painful.”
Will swallows the bile in his throat, the memories so vivid they might as well be a horror movie playing in his mind. “He asked me to slap him, to talk dirty and humiliate him. I fucking hated it, but when I complained, he’d accuse me of not caring enough to try. So I tried harder, and he loved it. I kept hoping he’d get over that phase and go back to how things used to be, but he just wanted to push harder, to get more extreme. That was the same time I began believing he was going crazy, and I didn’t know anything about mental illness or how to help. I spoke with Joel’s dad, and he said that he was doing what he could to help his son, and it wasn’t for me to intervene. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that his son was making me hurt him during sex.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Nate was the only one who knew, because Joel told him everything. I think it was him who suggested to Joel that he and I should switch.”
“Switch?”
“For Joel to hurt me. I initially refused, but by then…” Will forces the words out. “By then I was already scared of him. His outbursts became more frequent, and he hit me a few times during arguments. Nothing major, but enough to make me constantly on edge when I was near him. I would have likely gone to the police if the sheriff hadn’t been Joel’s dad. I gave in and allowed Joel to hurt meduring sex, and he was so damn cruel. I didn’t know who that person was anymore.”
“Did… did you try breaking up with him?”
“Several times over the years, but he always made me change my mind. First it was by making me feel sorry for him and saying he’d be lost without me, then he threatened to hurt me. When it was no longer enough, he said he’d kill himself.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I did, so I kept letting him hurt me, and sometimes I hurt him. By then, I had so much hate toward him, I didn’t need to pretend. That was the only thing left between us during our last year—sex and pain.”
“But if you didn’t break up with him, then why did he kill himself in your house?”
Will shivers at the memory of returning home from work, bruised from his latest sex session with Joel, to find him hanging from his ceiling. It must have taken him a long time to set it up; he was so big, so a simple rope wouldn’t have been enough. As Will stood there, staring in shock at the dangling body of the man he used to love, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Sadness and regret were also there, but they were faint in comparison to knowing he wouldn’t be hurt again by Joel.
“I don’t know why he killed himself. Maybe he felt like I was going to leave town without telling him—which I was thinking of doing—or maybe his demonsbecame too much for him to handle. But the reason didn’t matter. He had told enough people in town about our personal lives, and I was already looked at as a creep. When Joel died in my house, it was like the whole town collectively decided I was to blame, and then hunting season officially began. If it weren’t for Julie… fuck, if it weren’t for her, I’d be so far from here, Owen, without looking back.” He wipes his tears and opens his eyes to see the blurry blue sky above him. “I should have been braver when Joel’s madness took over, but I went along until it was too late. So yes, I did have a part in his death, but not in the way everybody thinks.”
Owen holds Will’s hand, as if he can sense how much he needs that small gesture. “I don’t think I would have acted differently, and I’m sorry that people think these things about you. It isn’t fair. And why the hell didn’t your uncle help? He was the mayor back then, wasn’t he?”
A current of unease runs down Will’s spine. “He was never close to my family. He considered us trash, and when shit hit the fan, it helped validate what he always believed—that I was a troublemaker.” He squeezes Owen’s hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“You needed to trust me enough to share all that, and I’m glad that you do now. I… I trust you, too.” Owen shifts closer, burying his face in the crook of Will’s shoulder. He’s shivering.
“What’s wrong, Owen?”
“I killed someone.”
Will’s breath catches in his throat. He lies still, waiting anxiously to hear more.
“It was a drug dealer I knew. I owed him money. He found me the night before I was meant to leave town. I tried to escape him, but he chased me until we were in an alley. He pulled out a knife, and I knew he was going to stab me. I used a trash can lid to hit his head, but I used too much force. I killed him. I know I did. I didn’t call anyone. I just took the bus and left town.”
It’s unfathomable to picture someone like Owen getting caught in such a mess. “You might have been dead if you didn’t act.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself, but I don’t know that for sure. I have nightmares about that—I think I always will.”
Will opens his mouth to offer comfort, but everything he thinks of saying feels hollow. There’s nothing he can say that will make Owen feel less guilty or remove the doubt from his mind. “I’m glad that you’re alive and not him.”
Owen raises his head to watch Will. “Thank you. He really wasn’t a good person, but I still didn’t want to kill him. And… fuck Joel. Just fuck him. Can I say that?”
