by Andi Jaxon
Chapter 39
Ben Benjamin –
My head feels like an ice pick has been shoved through my temple. Dan brought me here, to my personal hell. Since I was drugged up, none of the hospital staff would listen when I tried to fight him, not that I was strong enough to put up much resistance. He smiled and charmed the doctor when I told him I didn’t want him in the room, and I didn’t want to be discharged to him. The doctor bought every lie, every fake smile Dan gave him. I don’t even know how long ago it was. Days? Hours?
My entire body aches from the beating I took and from lying on the subfloor of my old room, doesn’t help that the pain medication has worn off. I’m sure he confiscated it too, I won’t ever see them.
Since I left, he's pulled up the carpet, removed the curtains, and installed more locks on the door—all of which lock from the outside. I'm freezing. Winter in the Pacific Northwest is mostly highs in the forties and lows in the twenties. There are definitely colder places, but I have zero heat in here, no blankets or even a jacket. My fingers and toes are turning purple, and I'm sure my lips are blue. My teeth chattering hard enough that I'm worried about breaking them.
I’m huddled into a tight ball, trying to keep my body heat in. I’m in the closet, but since he took the doors, it’s not helping to keep heat in. At least I got to keep my clothes this time, though he took my shoes and socks. When I lived here, I would have to strip down to my boxers. It didn’t matter what time of the year it was or what I had done to piss him off. My clothes were kept in a different room and I would have to ask him for clothes every day, or go to school in what I was given to sleep in. When I was being punished, I would have to strip my bed, fold everything, and stack it in the hallway outside my door before he locked me in. If I made a sound, any noise at all, he would come in with a leather belt and whip every inch of exposed skin he could get to. I’ve learned how to shut the world out, not speak for days at a time.
Kristen knew I was abused, even called CPS a few times, but they never found anything. My bed would be back together, my clothes being kept in a different room would be explained away, and the marks on my skin would be gone. He knew someone working there, giving him a heads up and making it take weeks for a welfare check, giving him enough time to hide the evidence. The beatings afterward were always worse, Kristen stopped calling once she figured it out.
At some point he’ll give me chicken broth, probably room temperature, cold if he’s really pissed off, to hold off the starvation that’s looming. Unfortunately, starvation and I have been close friends for a long time. Dan knows exactly how long I can go before medical intervention is needed—he knows all the signs.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here, a few hours or an entire day? The pain meds have finally worn off, leaving me in more pain than I can remember ever being in. The cold certainly isn’t helping. If I remember correctly, being so fucking cold will make healing take longer since blood flow will slow down as my body tries to protect the vital organs.
What have I ever done to deserve this? At this point, I don’t want some great life, to be rich and madly in love with my soulmate. All I want is to be left alone. I want a quiet life, with a job that pays well enough for me to be comfortable. I want to be able to use hot water and a heater, to be able to eat three times a day and to have a warm blanket.
And Alister Bennett. God, do I want him. He is everything I wish I was. I would give anything to be in his apartment, warm, and safe, wrapped in his arms. I crave him. Thinking about the time I spent with him, has tears filling my eyes. I hate my life.
The locks outside the door start turning, alerting me to the incoming shit storm. I can only imagine what Dan has planned for me. The hinges squeak as the door opens, but I don’t lift my head to look, I know he’s standing there. His steps are heavy on the floorboards as he comes closer, boots on his feet to protect him from the cold and risk of splinters. Suddenly, frigid water is thrown at me. The shriek that leaves me is involuntary and leaves me breathless. The icy water stings my skin, somehow burning my already freezing body.
“Why are you here, Benjamin?” His voice is grating my nerves like sandpaper.
I know I have to come up with an answer that will satisfy him or risk more pain, but what the hell does he want me to say?
Water hits me again, stealing what little breath I have. Apparently, I took too long to answer him. Before thinking through my answer, I blurt out, “I don’t know.” I immediately know this is not the right answer when I hear the snap of a belt seconds before it slaps my back. Unimaginable pain screams through me, the sting of the leather a minor annoyance compared to the impact on bruised skin and cracked ribs. I’m already limited on how deep of a breath I can take, each one a carefully executed plan, but it’s gone the second he strikes me.
“Why are you here, Benjamin?” His voice is calm, as it always is. I’ve never heard him yell or even raise his voice.
Words scramble around my mind as I try to gain control over something, my breathing, the pain, this entire fucking situation. “Um... to... to learn a lesson.”
Chapter 40
Alister –
Last night was restless, after tossing and turning in bed for a few hours, I got up and paced the apartment. My mind heavy with every possible scenario. I called his phone so many times that I’ve lost count, and left messages begging him to call me back. At this point, I don’t care if he never comes back here, I just want to know he’s okay and not lying in a back alley bleeding to death.
Taking my frustration out on the treadmill didn’t work, so I took a brutally hot shower, scrubbing my skin raw just to have an outlet for the frustration and helplessness. After getting dressed and leaving a note for Ben on the counter, I head to my parents’ house. For it being a major holiday, the traffic is light, and it doesn’t take me long to get there. Alex, of course, is already here and stuffing his face with whatever Mom made for snacking this year.
Everyone turns and looks when I walk in, expecting to see Ben with me. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Alex says around a mouthful of crackers and cheese.
I have to take a second and swallow before I can answer. “I, um, I don’t know.” Mom comes to me and hugs me, ushering me to take a seat on the couch next to Dad. Alex walks over and plops down next to me.
“What happened? Anal warts?”
I want to laugh at the joke, but the sound comes out more like a cough. Dropping my shoulders, I look at my fingers in my lap when I reply, “I think he’s missing.”
My brother’s demeanor instantly changes, Officer Bennet immediately taking the place of my smart-ass twin brother. “Why do you think he’s missing?” Turning to my mom, he asks her for a pen and paper to take notes.
“He didn’t come home after class last night, and his phone goes straight to voicemail.”
“Maybe he went to his family’s house for the holiday?” It sounds like such a simple answer, but it’s not.
“He doesn’t have any family. He was a ward of the state.”
“Foster parents?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know his name, but the man he lived with was abusive. There’s no way he would go there for the holiday.”
“Friends? Hangouts?” Alex is writing down information on the paper, gathering what he can.
“The only friend I know of is Kristen, and she just flew in late last night. I’ve talked to her, and she hasn’t heard from him either. I called the only hangout I’m aware of, and they hadn’t seen him.”
“Full name, date of birth if you have it, description and any identifiable marks?”
“Benjamin Wallace, I don’t know his middle name or birthday. He’s about five foot ten, a hundred and maybe thirty pounds, shaggy black hair, black eyes. And he doesn’t have any marks I’ve noticed, not even freckles.”
Alex is still looking at the paper when he pulls out his phone. “Alright, I’ll see what I can find out. I can’t promise anything, but we might get lucky.”
> “Thanks.”
He wanders off into the back of the house to make a phone call, and my dad hands me a beer. “I’m sure he’s alright, but if he’s not, Alex will find him.”
I nod my head and take a long pull of the dark beer we both love. My stomach is angry, twisting and turning, and my foot is bouncing. I’m sure it’s driving my dad nuts, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps bringing me a new beer when the one I have is empty and shoving food at me. The alcohol on a mostly empty and my anxious stomach is not doing me any favors. I’m pretty sure at any moment, I’m going to be reintroduced to the contents of my stomach.
“Okay boys, dinner is ready!” Mom’s singsong voice announces from the dining room. I stand up, and the world spins, and I stumble around the room.
“Whoa there,” my dad says, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. “Why don’t you lay down for a while?”
My stomach is cramping, and saliva is pooling in my mouth as we make our way down the hall. “Bathroom,” is the only word I’m able to say before the overwhelming urge to throw up hits. We make it just in time for me to hit my knees and empty my stomach into the ceramic bowl.
Once my stomach is empty and the dry heaving stops, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. It doesn’t take long for me to doze off.
Chapter 41
Ben Benjamin –
My teeth are chattering, my arms and legs are blue, and I can see my breath when I open my eyes. The beating last night was the worst one I can remember, thanks to the previous injuries. I might actually freeze to death this time, I’ve heard it’s a decent way to go, you just fall asleep and don’t wake up. At this point, I would love to sleep instead of being knocked unconscious. It’s dark outside, but I have no idea what time or what day it is.
Breathing is excruciating, my stomach is both hungry and nauseated, and my head is screaming from the pressure inside my skull. Pictures of Alister in my mind are the only things to keep me company, his smile when he sees me, laughing over my terrible chopping job, the way his lips feel pressed to mine when we say goodnight in bed. The urge to cry is so fucking strong but I know it will physically hurt to do, so I’m forced to hold it in. Not that holding back doesn’t hurt either.
I don’t know how I lived before him. In the few short weeks we’ve been together, my entire world has shifted to revolve around him. He makes my life bright, and brings joy and happiness to my dark and pitiful existence. I need him. He makes my heart beat, my lungs inflate. If I ever see him again, I’m going to make sure he knows just how important he is to me. How essential he is to my happiness. How much I love him.
Oh God. Love? Is that what I feel? I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before, besides Kristen, and that’s an entirely different feeling. He’s the first person I want to talk to when something good or bad happens. I feel safe when I’m with him. And right now, while I’m in the worst place I could imagine, he’s the only one I want. That has to mean I love him. Right?
The sound of the locks being turned assaults my ears, my heart pounding in my broken and bruised ribcage.
“Benjamin. I see you’re finally awake.” The voice of the devil has a smile in it. He’s enjoying my suffering, my fear. “Since it’s Thanksgiving, I’ve chosen to be nice and brought you hot chicken broth.”
My head picks up, he’s never brought me broth that was more than room temperature before, and this is not my first holiday being locked in here. “What’s the catch?”
“Finally, you’re showing some of the smarts I raised you to have. First, tell me why you’re here.”
“Because bad boys must be punished.” My voice is a broken rasp. The saying cuts through me, humiliating and belittling me to the center of who I am. It’s been the same since I moved in here when I was ten. I hate it now just as much as I hated it then. I’m sure that’s the point.
“Good boy.” When he dies, I’m going to dance on his grave. “In order to get hot broth, you have to withstand a lit cigar being put out on your skin twenty-three times, one for every year you’ve been a bad boy. Now, if you pass out, I wait for you to come back around and your broth cools. The longer it takes to get through them all, the colder it will be. The other option is getting a block of frozen broth.” He stands and waits for me the mull it over, arms folded in front of him like a schoolboy.
“Fuck you.” I know I’m going to instantly regret the words, but maybe it will mean my death will be faster.
He doesn’t say anything, but the belt he’s wearing is ripped from the loops and snaps against my frozen flesh, instantly raising a welt. I scream from the pain of the belt and from the deep breath against broken ribs. I’m panting and whimpering, trying to slow my breathing back down.
“Would you like to try again?”
“If I withstand all twenty-three burns without passing out, I want you to reheat it. I deserve it hot.”
My eyes peek over my knees, watching him think it over. His face gives nothing away, and I hate him even more for always being so damn in control.
“Alright, if you don’t pass out, you can have it reheated. Ready?”
I nod and shuffle out of the closet corner, knowing he’s going to want full access to my skin. I fucking hate him. I hate everything about him. Why don’t bad things happen to the sick fucks of the world?
“On your side, stretch out.”
It’s not until now that I realize he must have taken my clothes while I was unconscious because now, I’m naked. It’s incredibly difficult to force my body to move, to uncurl from the tight ball I’ve been in. Every muscle in my body protests as I push my legs from my chest.
Above me, Dan pulls a cigar, cutter, and lighter from his pocket. He knew damn well how this was going to go, as he snips off the end and holds it between his lips while he lights it, the stench of tobacco filling the room. He circles me while puffing on the cigar, choosing where the first burn will go, then crouches in front of my stomach. Without any warning, the bright orange tip is pressed against the soft flesh of my abdomen. A scream rips from my throat surprising even me, and the stench of burning skin mixing with tobacco turns my stomach. My knees instinctually try to come up to protect my stomach, but his feet are in the way, I’m sure he planned it that way. My body trembles as my nerves try to assimilate what is happening.
As calm as can be, Dan puts the cigar back between his lips and lights it again, puffing on it to get the bright orange glow before pressing it against me once again. Over and over he does this, never reacting to my screams. None of it fazes him, like he’s clipping coupons from the Sunday paper.
Somewhere around the fifteenth mark, he goes to get another cigar, giving me a much-needed break. Panting, in more pain than I can contemplate, I lay on the cold subfloor and think of Alister. Is he worried about me? Is he looking for me? Is he angry I missed meeting his parents? Does he think I ran to avoid it?
All too quickly, Dan is back with another fucking cigar and moves to crouch behind me. He’s already ruined my chest and stomach, gotten the front of my thighs, so it must be time to ruin the rest of me. Tears have flooded my face, rolling down to drip onto the floor. The burning pushes into me again, agony greets me, but this time, I’m able to curl up. The pressure against the new burns hurts but my mind doesn’t care, the fetal position is what it wants.
My back, butt, and thighs get burns by the time he’s done. I’ve made it through them all without passing out, and now I get hot broth, though I doubt my stomach will handle it well. With my luck, I’ll throw it all back up and be forced to live with the smell of that as well.
Without a word, Dan leaves the room, not bothering to lock the door since there’s no way in hell I can escape in my condition, and comes back in with a steaming mug. Shifting to my knees, I’m barely able to sit up. My hands are shaking so bad from the pain and cold I almost dump the mug in my lap when he hands it to me. Using both hands on the mug, which is burning my skin, I’m able to bring it to my lips and drink. The liquid sc
alds my mouth but warms my body from the inside, heat radiating from my stomach. I’m careful to take small sips even though I want to chug it, my empty stomach needs time to adjust.
My body is screaming, every inch of it desperate for relief with none in sight, but I’m able to keep the broth down. No longer does my stomach cramp with hunger pains, and maybe I’ll be able to get a little sleep…
Chapter 42
Alister –
Sunlight shining in my face wakes me, and it takes me looking around for a minute to realize I’m still at my parents’ house. My head is pounding, my mouth tastes like shit, and my bladder is screaming for relief. I get up and make my way to the bathroom. I have no idea what time it is or how I ended up in my old bedroom, but I’m betting Alex and Dad had to carry me.
Thinking of Alex reminds me that he was making a call about Ben. I’m done taking a piss and rinsing my mouth, so I head to the living room in search of answers. I need answers. The closer I get to the living room, the more voices I hear, the more confused I get.
“Can you stop thinking with your dick for one second and listen?” a familiar female voice snaps.
“Look, doll face, I can’t go barging into someone’s house without probable cause, and you saying you think Ben’s in there is not probable cause,” Alex says, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m a journalist, so I know what probable cause means. How about you go to the house for a welfare check and see what you can find?” Kristen says, like she’s speaking to a child.
“Hang on,” I say, both Kristen and Alex turning to look at me. “How or why is Kristen here?”
Alex smirks. “She was blowing up your phone last night, so I answered it. She said she may have information about Ben, so I gave her the address.”
