by Dawn Sister
“I’m goin’ to the bathroom, bud.” Tristan’s smile much more genuine, he was after all a far better actor, “Too much beer, toppin’ up the beer from last night.” He chuckled and shrugged. Troy tried to join in but failed miserably with a chuckle that turned Tristan’s heart cold.
He made a quick exit to the bathroom, glancing behind him to check if Troy was following him. Apparently he had bought Tristan’s act.
His mouth felt suddenly dry with anxiety. He felt that Troy had lured him here for something but it was most definitely not a cosy chat about being Gay. He apparently wanted to continue what he had started last night and Tristan had no wish to.
He walked into a cubicle and locked it. He checked his phone screen as he sat on the closed toilet seat. He had fifteen missed calls, all from his friends. Seven of them were from Danny. Tristan felt tears prickle in his eyes, Danny, his best friend, his lover, if he still was. He pressed the return call button without hesitation,
“Tris, Oh my God, where the hell are you, babe?” Since when did Danny start calling him babe?
“I’m in a bar on Seventy Ninth and West, Danny. I met Troy here.” There was a silence on the other end of the phone and then Danny exploded,
“You did what? Tristan, what the hell are you playing at? Get out of there right now.” Tristan had to hold the phone away from his ear it was so loud. He felt suddenly felt very foolish for running off and stupid for agreeing to meet Troy,
“I’m gonna come back, Danny. I’m leavin’ right now. I’m sorry, bud, so sorry.” His eyes filled with tears and he started to cry. He had no idea why he was suddenly feeling so fragile. He stood up since he had been sitting down on the toilet seat. He sat straight back down though as his head began to swim and his vision blurred, “Danny?” He sobbed into the phone, “Danny somethin’s wrong with me, I cain’t stand up.”
“Shit Tristan, where are you right now?” Danny’s voice was suddenly very echoey but Tristan could hear the note of panic, he could also hear him talking to someone else, was it Reuben?
“I’m in a toilet cubicle, Dan.” He said, but he felt his words slurring. What the hell was wrong with him? He tried to moisten his lips but his mouth was so dry he couldn’t. He needed to get some water. He put his hand on the cubicle door and slid the lock open,
“Tristan, stay in the cubicle, just stay there until we get there. If you can, call 911, but if you can’t just stay there, and don’t let anyone in unless it’s me.” Tristan listened to Danny’s voice but didn’t hear the words.
He blinked his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. He pushed the door open and staggered to the sinks. He turned on a tap and tried to get some water to his parched mouth. He suddenly had no control over his hands though, they wouldn’t lift to his mouth. He tried to get his mouth to the tap but only succeeded in over balancing. He gripped the edge of the sink with both hands to stop himself from falling and in the process dropped his phone,
“Shit.” He spluttered as he bent down to pick it up, he could still hear Danny’s voice, echoey and distant, calling desperately from somewhere. He couldn’t quite work out where.
His body felt warm and soft all of a sudden and he felt groggy but relaxed. He couldn’t quite reach his phone though, it moved when he tried to pick it up. He frowned and stepped forward, on wobbly legs. He reached for it again and it moved again. He heard a chuckle and looked up to see Troy standing to one side, a very blurry Troy,
“Quit foolin’, Troy, I need my phone.” He said, his words now so slurred he wasn’t even sure that was what he had actually said. He tried to get his phone once more and once more it moved, this time he saw it was Troy’s foot that nudged it away, “Fuck you, Troy.” Tristan stood straight and pushed against Troy but fell against him instead,
“Whoa there, Tristan, had a bit too much to drink?” he asked in a jovial tone that sounded false to Tristan’s ears. He looked up into Troy’s eyes, frowning. Something wasn’t right. He had only had one beer. He could hardly stand. Then Troy was helping him. Tristan didn’t like it, Troy’s hands all over him. He pulled away but Troy’s grip was tight. Tristan tried again to pull away and succeeded. He dived for his phone his heart pounding, but he never reached it as something hit him hard in the face and everything went black.
Chapter 11: Troy's Plan
The world was spinning and swirling and Tristan wanted to throw up. He swallowed bile and tried to open his eyes. They seemed crusted shut and his mouth was as dry as sand paper. He tried to moisten his lips with his tongue but he realised he couldn’t feel his tongue, in fact his entire face was numb; except for the kettle drum pounding away in his head. Somebody groaned and Tristan tried to open his eyes again. Was there someone else with him? He had no idea where he actually was any way or how he’d got there. He tried to speak but could only manage another strangled groan and he realised the first groan had come from his mouth too.
He was aware, suddenly, of hands on him and he tried to brush them away, feeling that they shouldn’t be there but his own arms and hands did not seem to want to work. They felt heavy: like lead. He could feel his heart racing and he was beginning to panic. He couldn’t open his eyes or speak and his chest felt as if there was a heavy weight pressing against it. He couldn’t breathe properly either, his breath coming in raspy, short gasps. Another moan escaped his lips and a hand pushed him down into the seat with a loud “Sshhhh!”.
Hands were on him again and Tristan didn’t like the way they were moving over him. He felt a pressure across his chest and legs and knew it wasn’t right somehow. He tried to move, tried to struggle against the pressure. The hands were on his shoulders pushing him down and he did not like it. No one touched him unless he let them. Despite his grogginess and detached state he knew he had to do something about it. He gave one monumental heave and was able to almost stand. He pulled his eyes open: it was as if his lids were weighed down with bricks. They opened and he saw whose hands were holding him down; pushing him down once more and strapping him into the passenger seat of his truck,
“Troy.” His groan was followed by a sob, because he knew what he was feeling was due to more than just beer. Something or someone had hit him as well, but he didn’t just have concussion, he’d been drugged and by Troy Parker,
“Troy.” He tried to say, but his words were slurred, “Troy, Where’re you takin’ me?”
“Sshhh!” Troy once again hissed softly, “Don’t worry, I’m taking you somewhere safe, somewhere private, just you and me.”
Slowly, gradually, Tristan tried to remember: to piece together what had happened. They had met outside the bar. Troy had bought them drinks. He must have put something in his beer then, while he was still at the bar. He could remember snippets of their conversation and then getting up to go to the bathroom, but nothing after that except: had he spoken to Danny? He remembered Danny’s voice. Had he dreamt it? He couldn’t remember what had been said but he remembered the desperate tone of his friend’s words. Where was Danny, he needed him? Troy had carried him out of the bar, calling to the occupants in general that his friend had had a little too much to drink. There had been calls of acknowledgement, despite Tristan trying desperately to struggle against Troy. He had simply looked, to others as if he was indeed, blind drunk.
Another sob escaped his lips and he felt fingers gently caress them. He smiled,
“Danny!” he sighed softly. The caressing fingers grasped his jaw roughly and he gasped with pain,
“Not, Danny.” An angry voice snarled, “Forget about Danny. Your precious little Fanny Taylor isn’t coming, Tristan, because you’re with me now, you’re all mine.” Tristan tried to move his head from Troy’s grip but the man held him tight. Suddenly lips were forced onto his and Tristan tried to resist but didn’t have the strength to pull away. Finally the lips released him, “You taste so good, Tristan, I always knew you would.” Troy’s voice was softer, but still sinister and dangerous.
The lips were pressed roughly agains
t his again and if Tristan thought he couldn’t breathe before he felt he would definitely suffocate now. Colours danced before his eyes as his lungs were deprived of oxygen. His lips were released and he groaned again in distress. His eyes had closed again and he tried desperately to open them, gasping for breath and not seeming to get any at all. His heart beat faster still, if that were even possible. This was not just his anxiety, he knew, it was the drug’s affects on his body. He gave another gasp for breath and tried to speak. He was aware that Troy was now sitting beside him in the driver’s seat,
“Troy.” He gasped “Troy, you have to take me to a hospital, I cain’t breath.” The words came out between gasps and gulps for air,
“Just relax Tristan. I gave you something to relax you that’s all.” Troy’s tone was an attempt to sooth but only succeeded in terrifying.
The engine started and Tristan felt the motion as Troy’s truck pulled out of the parking lot,
“Troy please.” Tristan sobbed. He made another desperate effort to move, he had to stop Troy taking him away from the bar. No one would find them if Troy took him away: Danny wouldn’t find him. He reached across to the wheel and grasped it. Troy gave a strangled shout and grabbed Tristan’s hand to stop him. Tristan didn’t leave go until Troy’s fist connected with his face and the force pushed him against the passenger window, stunning him. Adrenaline was combating the effects of whatever Troy had used to spike his drink, though, and as Tristan’s hand fell on the door handle he forced his non responsive fingers to pull it open. The safety belt stopped him from falling out but also prevented him from escaping too. Troy shouted again and Tristan was jerked forward as the truck came to an abrupt halt,
“Holy shit, Tristan, you’re gonna kill us both.” He yelled, he jumped out of the truck and ran around to the passenger side. He pushed Tristan back into his seat his fist holding onto the front of his shirt, “Dammit, I’m tryin’ to be nice here, Tristan, but if you pull another stunt like that I am gonna hit you so hard you won’t wake up for a week.”
Tristan wanted to shout back, but his words wouldn’t form. Instead he gathered what saliva he had left in his mouth and spat directly into Troy’s face. Troy drew back with a sharp gasp. He still had a hold of Tristan’s shirt,
“You Bastard.” He shouted, swiping his hand across Tristan’s face, “Nobody spits at me.” He yelled, emphasising every word with a resounding slap.
Tristan tried to move his arms up to protect himself. Troy was mad, crazy, shouting and hitting him; then abruptly it stopped; the hitting and the shouting. Then there were hands on him again. Oh god, not the hands again please. He tried to move and call out as a weight leaned across him,
“Troy stop, please.” He gasped with a desperate whimper, he didn’t care how it sounded he just wanted it to stop. The hands were all over him, feeling his neck, his face, his chest, his arms, “Stop.” He whimpered,
“Tristan, oh my god, Tristan.” Tristan opened his eyes, startled that the voice was not Troy’s. His vision cleared enough to see another face in front of his, a beautiful face, framed with blond hair. Grey eyes flecked with green stared into his, full of concern; filled with tears, “Tristan, stop fighting me, you’re safe now.”
Was he dreaming? “Danny?” he muttered, “Dan?”
“I’m here, you’re not dreaming.” Danny assured him, his hands holding Tristan’s shoulders to steady him,
“Need to get out.” Tristan whimpered trying to get out of the truck; if he got out of the truck then Troy couldn’t take him away. Danny’s hands held him down and Tristan was momentarily filled with panic again as he struggled against the hold,
“Reuben, get over here.” Danny called. Danny’s face was replaced with Reuben’s, his dark eyes darting over Tristan’s face and body, gentle hands feeling his forehead, and taking his pulse,
“Roo?” Tristan whispered hoarsely, confused. Where had they come from, how had they got here?
“You’re going to be alright Tristan. The paramedics are on their way.” Reuben assured him,
“His lips are blue, Reuben.” Danny sounded anxious, panicky,
“Just stay with him, Danny, keep him conscious, they’ll be here soon.”
Tristan tried again to get out of the truck, Danny and Reuben both stopped him with gentle hands,
“Tristan, you need to stay in the truck until the paramedics come, please, trust me, you’re safe now.” Reuben’s voice was deep and calming,
“I’m here with you, Tristan, no one’s going to hurt you, I promise.” Danny’s words ended in a sob and Tristan looked up at him. There were tears falling down his cheeks.
Danny crying?
Why was he crying?
Of course, Tristan had hit him; he could see the bruise on his cheek. He was suddenly filled with regret and remorse for causing his friend pain, making him cry. Tears came to his own eyes as he reached up to touch Danny’s face,
“I’m sorry, Danny.” He managed to say before Danny gave a loud sob and pulled him into a fierce embrace,
“Oh god, I’m sorry too, babe, I’m so sorry.”
“Troy spiked my drink.” Tristan slurred,
“I know, he won’t hurt you now, you’re safe.” Tristan became aware of other noises around him. He could hear shouting, was it Troy? He could hear other voices too, Scott and Jason, shouting back. He could hear sirens getting louder. Most of all, though, he could hear Danny, his mouth close to his ear, his breath hot on his skin, telling him everything was alright now, and he knew it was. Of course it was Danny was there.
Chapter 12: The Waiting Room
Danny, Reuben, Jason and Scott made a sorry sight as they sat in various states of alertness or not as the case may be, in the crowded ER waiting room. Jason and Scott were asleep leaning against each other, both snoring and both drooling onto each other’s shirts. At any other time the adorable sight would have been well photographed and posted on every social network site possible. Danny and Reuben however had much more pressing things on their minds. Danny shuffled and continuously glanced anxiously at the double doors that led through to the treatment area of the busy ER department,
“He’s going to be fine.” Reuben told him, calmly, for at least the hundredth time since they had arrived. Danny sat back in his seat releasing an explosive breath,
“How can you say that with so much confidence?” Danny asked, regarding him with his tired grey eyes, “He stopped breathing, Roo.”
“Yes, and then he started breathing again.” Reuben reminded him, “The paramedics did a good job. He’s in good hands.”
“You did a good job.” Danny told him, his hand warmly gripping Reuben’s arm, “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been so level headed.”
“It was just basic first aid, Danny.” Reuben told him with his usual modesty. Danny could not quite believe he was dismissing what he had done so calmly.
After they had dragged Troy away from their friend, Jason and Scott had restrained him while Danny and Reuben helped Tristan. Their friend’s lips had turned an alarming shade of blue as the drug Troy had given him gradually sent him into respiratory failure. When he had lost consciousness and stopped breathing altogether Danny had frozen in panic, but Reuben had pulled Tristan from the car and given him mouth to mouth, breathing for him until the paramedics had arrived and taken over. That had only been moments: it had seemed like hours.
The paramedics had stabilised Tristan’s condition, and armed with the knowledge of what drug he had been given, they’d rushed him off to the hospital. Troy had been arrested and the police had found more of the drug he had used in his pocket. He had tried to protest but with four very angry young men shouting him down and some of the bar’s occupants backing it all up with their own statements the cops had dragged Troy off to charge him with assault and possession of illegal drugs. Whether he would be charged with other things would depend on Tristan, if and when he recovered.
Reuben had driven them all to the ho
spital and they’d sat in the waiting room ever since. They had all been questioned by the police and Danny had given Tristan’s details, as much as he could, to the medical staff. They had all made several phone calls to frantic friends and Danny had made one very difficult call to Tristan’s parents.
