Branded

by Ana J. Phoenix

  Metal crashed. Tires screeched. A noise exploded in his head. Someone screamed.

  Blackness.

  His heart was racing. He didn’t know where he was. But he was moving. Rushing. Somewhere. There were voices he didn’t know. He couldn’t open his eyes. Why couldn’t he open his eyes?

  “Shh, calm down.” Who was that? Where was his dad? And what was that weird thing on his face? Around him, voices drifted in and out of clarity. Like the thoughts in his head.

  Silence.

  Ketsu’s voice. “Interesting.”

  José swallowed down the urge to throw up when he became aware of himself and where he was. Shit. That had been—

  “Let’s see what else you got there.”

  José couldn’t gather himself before his grasp on the present slipped through his fingers again.

  “I’m not going!” He slammed the bathroom door shut and turned the key. He took a step away and almost stumbled over an empty bottle of shampoo. Mierda! His hand grabbed onto the shower stall to steady himself. He kicked the stupid bottle against the wall. Only the bang let him know that it hit.

  “José! Open the door!”

  “No!” José sat down on the edge of the bathtub and rubbed his eyes. They were almost useless. Like looking at the world through the shards of a painted window.

  “Cariño.” His mother’s voice was softer now, but he wasn’t falling for that. He was sick of hospitals. “Don’t you want to try?”

  “It never works!” He wasn’t having any more surgeries. Every one of them ended the same: he felt like shit and everyone just tip-toed around him like he was made of glass. His parents argued when they thought he wouldn’t hear it, his younger siblings turned cranky because they were being ignored… basically his whole family was a mess because of him.

  He used to put up with it all because people kept telling him that things would get better, while telling him to pick up braille at the same time. He wasn’t stupid. He knew his eyes were only getting worse. Some day soon he’d just stop seeing and then he’d be totally blind. For the rest of his life. He nearly wished he were already so their lives could move on.

  “José?” His mother was knocking on the door. Had she called for him before? “Are you crying?”

  “’M not!” He buried his head in his hands and stifled a sob. Crying was for babies and he wasn’t a baby anymore, but the thought that he was never going to see his mom again, never see his dad again, or his siblings… It just…it wasn’t fair.

  “Sweetie, c’mon, open the door.” His mom sounded so worried that José couldn’t refuse her. He took a deep breath and walked over to the door, unlocked it and stepped aside to let his mom in. Almost immediately he felt himself being pressed against her chest by arms that wrapped around his back. He lowered his head, breathed in her scent, feeling something burn behind his closed eyelids.

  “I’m going blind, right?” he said, almost choking on the words.

  “Shh, it’s going to be fine, baby,” his mom said, rubbing his back. He wanted so much to believe that. But even though he couldn’t stop the tears from falling now, he wasn’t a baby. He was just… scared.

  Hanging his head and breathing hard, José came back into the present. He felt the wood of the chair against his back and the hand that still lay on his forehead that he couldn’t seem to push off. What he’d just experienced was nothing more than a memory of something that had happened a decade ago, but it still seemed hard to shake the feeling of dread it evoked. He reminded himself that everything had turned out alright in the end. His family had always supported him. José inhaled and pressed his lips together, calmed himself.

  “You’re too damn stable,” Ketsu’s voice cut through his thoughts. Along with it came a sharp pain in the right side of his head. José ground his teeth together. He was so not sorry. Knowing that that asshole of a fox was looking through his memories was worse than a thousand dreams of standing naked in front of class all combined into one.

  “The more you fight, the more it hurts, you know.”

  “Screw you.” José winced at a flare of pain in the back of his head.

  “There, huh?”

  José opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t get a word out before a horrible sense of dread overwhelmed him, kicked him in the guts and knocked the wind out of him. Fuck, what—

  He was feeling warm, lying under the covers of his bed and in the embrace of his boyfriend. His boyfriend of eight months and what he knew would be only a few more minutes. They had already said their goodbyes to each other hours ago when they’d gone to sleep. Cisco was leaving the country early this morning. His alarm clock had already rung. It had chimed very softly, but José had still heard it, blaring through his dreams as though it was heralding the end of the world. José didn’t want it to end. He’d known from the start that this relationship had an expiration date, and maybe he’d gotten more involved than he should have.

  He inhaled, drank in his boyfriend’s presence, and found himself wishing for another minute, another second. He forced himself not to reach out and hold on when Cisco finally moved, placed a soft kiss on his cheek and whispered the words he didn’t want to hear. “Adiós, José.”

  He pretended to be asleep as the other man picked up his clothes, because he didn’t trust himself to speak. He couldn’t make this harder for the both of them. Cisco closed the door behind him and José rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. Even though he was missing him already, he knew he wasn’t going to see him again. They had decided not to exchange contact information.

  “You’re such a sap,” Ketsu said, bringing him back into the reality of his situation. José didn’t bother defending himself against the insult. He didn’t feel like exchanging another word with that bastard. Making him re-live his last break-up. That was low. But still, that had been over a year ago. He was over it. In fact, he hadn’t thought of it in a long time. He ignored the burning behind his eyelids. Good thing he was wearing a blindfold. He wouldn’t cry over Cisco now. His life was good. Well, except for the fact that he had been betrayed, left behind and imprisoned over the course of the last 24 hours. José almost laughed at himself as he swallowed down a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

  “Seems like that’s your thing, huh? Getting involved with guys only when you know they’re going to leave you,” Ketsu said. José pursed his lips. What the hell was Ketsu getting at?

  “How do you even understand any of this?” José asked. “What do you know of my world?”

  “I’m not the one answering questions here,” Ketsu said, letting go of him. “And I know enough.”

  José breathed out in relief as a heavy weight lifted from his mind. When a guard grabbed his arm and pulled him up to his feet, he almost tumbled over.

  “Take him back to his cell.”

  Chapter 22 - What’s Been and not Gone

  Asher woke up to a dull pounding in his side. He groaned. He’d really gotten himself into deep shit this time, hadn’t he? There was noise around him. Someone crying somewhere, heavy breathing, coughs. Asher tried getting a feel for his left hand, flexed his fingers, and gritted his teeth at the sharp pain of protest shooting up his arm. “Shit.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Asher glanced to the left. José! So he’d been here this whole time!

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yeah!” At least by finding him, he’d succeeded in one thing. Where was this, though? Asher turned his head and scrutinized this hellhole. They were in a cell. No windows. It was impossible to tell whether it was day or night. Thick iron bars blocked them from the hallway. The light flickered in a way electrical light didn’t. Torches, probably.

  “Changed your mind?” José asked.

  “Foxy sucks as employer.”

  “No benefits?” José said as Asher watched a little black spider crawl over the ground to his right side.

  “None.” Asher squis
hed the spider with his foot as it came within striking distance. “He wanted me to burn people, but I didn’t. Not that it made any fucking difference.” He looked over at José. “Honestly I’ve no idea what he wanted me there for.”

  “I can’t tell you. Doesn’t look like I’m any good at judging people.”

  “What, ‘cause we went along with the little bitch? She was a bitch. Not your fault.” Asher closed his eyes again. If he could just go back to sleep he could escape the insistent pounding in his left side, but he was wide awake now, so he carried on the conversation to take his mind off his body. “Shit happened. Not your fault. If you want to, you can blame me.”

  “Why would I blame you?”

  “I don’t know. People tend to do that.” Asher shrugged, then winced. Bad idea.

  “People tend to be stupid.”

  Asher frowned at José, but José didn’t seem to be making fun of him. “People say I’m stupid.”

  “You’re just a little idiot,” José said, but he had this half-smile on his face and Asher couldn’t take him seriously. And he had to admit that he hadn’t been making the smartest choices lately.

  “Fuck you,” he said without ill intent.

  “Let’s maybe get out of here first.”

  “Right…” Asher looked around once more. Something reeked, of what, he wasn’t sure. Something dead.

  “The bastard’s coming down,” José said then, though Asher couldn’t hear or see anyone.

  Asher took a deep breath. There were steps, approaching their cell. What was Foxy going to do? Force more tasteless jewelry on him? A line of flames flared to life in the middle of the cell. Green flames. Asher stared. They burned as high as the ceiling, completely separating him from José.

  The cell door creaked open. Asher strained his neck to look up at the fox guy. This had to be his doing.

  “What do you want, Fox-Face?”

  “I’m very disappointed in you, Asher.”

  “Yeah? Fuck you.” Asher felt his heart beat a little faster as the fox stepped closer to him. He wasn’t scared to get into a fight but… he was pretty helpless in his condition.

  “You made me come down here.” Foxy wrinkled his nose. “As if I had nothing better to do than change your mind.”

  “You don’t have to—” Asher’s air cut off as Foxy climbed over him, pressing his hands down on Asher’s shoulders. Damn, that hurt.

  Asher grabbed for the hand on his left shoulder. Foxy lifted it and lay it flat on Asher’s forehead, pushing him to the ground.

  “Get your dirty paws off me!” Asher kicked at Foxy’s crotch, but Foxy dodged by sitting down on his knees. “Holy sh—” Asher squeezed his eyes shut against the pain sparking from his left leg. It was only Foxy, but it felt like a ton of lead on his kneecap.

  “You’d love something against the pain, wouldn’t you?” Foxy shifted his weight, pressing down on Asher’s injured side until Asher couldn’t keep himself from crying out.

  “I have medication, you know.” Foxy finally lifted his knee from Asher’s leg. Asher inhaled. For one blissful moment, he didn’t even hear what Foxy was saying. But he caught the last bit: “Not getting anything as long as you’re not working for me.”

  “Fuck that.” Asher glared at the fox. “Your army sucks. You suck.”

  Fox-Face ignored him, looking over at José. “José,” he said, “I’m giving you a choice now. I can force your pet into submission. Or you can give him an order for me and spare him the pain.”

  What?

  Asher stared at Foxy. Didn’t he get a say in this? What the fuck did Foxy mean by your pet anyway?

  “Fuck you both!” Asher said, trying to remind the others that he was still there. “You’re not forcing me into—”

  Foxy put his hand over his mouth, muffling his words.

  Bastaaard.

  Asher tried biting his palm.

  “So,” Foxy said, “what’s it going to be?”

  “Asher’s not my pet,” José said. “It’s not my decision.” Damn right it wasn’t.

  Foxy sighed. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” He turned to Asher. “And you, stop biting me.” He removed his hand from Asher’s mouth and moved it back to Asher’s forehead.

  “You’re not very tasty any—oh fuck!” A weird sort of weight pressed down on Asher’s head.

  “I know inside your mind you’re not so tough,” he heard Foxy’s voice echo through his thoughts.

  “Get out of my head!”

  Foxy ignored him again. “You see, José, I couldn’t break you. Not easily. You’re too stable. But how much do you think your dragon can take? Shall we find out?”

  Something that felt like a needle bore into Asher’s skull, making him wince. What was that? And what was Foxy on about?

  “You won’t talk to me, will you?” Foxy looked over to where José was hidden from sight by the flames. “Fine then.”

  Foxy focused on Asher, who glared up at him. He wasn’t going to show fear. Not even when something weird was going on in his head. An image of his mother flashed before his eyes even as he tried to force the fox out by sheer willpower.

  “What’s this?” Foxy asked.

  “None of your fucking business.” The needle pushed down deeper. “Fuck.” Asher winced again.

  “Don’t fight. It won’t get you anywhere.”

  Like hell. He wasn’t just going to lie here and take it. Foxy’s touch was repulsive enough as it was, having the guy look into his head made Asher’s skin crawl.

  He tried to escape the piercing sensation by moving his head, but Foxy’s hand was keeping him in place like an iron lock. And Asher couldn’t keep his mind from going blank. He couldn’t keep a hold on his thoughts. And then he was sitting in the kitchen of the apartment where he lived with his mother.

  “You know,” his mom said, “I should have listened to my mother when she told me I shouldn’t have children. But no, I had to go and be stupid!” Her face was red and her mascara smeared “And what do I get? A stupid kid!”

  Asher kept his eyes on his plate and chewed a bite of his food. Tasted like cardboard. Her cooking always did. “It’s not my fault your date didn’t want to fuck you,” he mumbled.

  “You do not talk to me that way!” His mom slammed the door of the fridge.

  Asher huffed and pushed his plate away. Fine. He wasn’t talking to her at all then. He wasn’t even sure what he’d done to set her off this time.

  “If it wasn’t for you and your weird obsession and your—” Asher mouthed the words as she spoke them. Like the script to a movie he’d seen too many times. Not in the mood for another rerun, he got up and dumped the rest of his food in the garbage bin.

  “You know,” his mom said as he turned into the hallway, “if it wasn’t for you, I’d still be with your father. And we’d be happy.”

  Asher ignored her, put on his shoes. Nothing was ever going to make that woman happy.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving.”

  “Oh, good! Don’t hurry back.”

  His surroundings faded to black, and his memories returned. He was in the cell again. At least in body. In mind… That conversation… It had been one of many, and he couldn’t place it. But he felt a grim smile tugging on his lips. If he never came back, maybe that would finally make his mother happy.

  “There’s something wrong with you if you can smile at a memory like that,” Foxy said.

  “You’re the one who’s wrong,” Asher said, trying not to let his distress show. His hand was itching to reach into his pocket and get one of his lighters.

  “And yet you’re the one who wants to burn something.”

  Busted. Foxy was still inside his head. How did you fight something like that? “I’ll burn you if you don’t stop, asshole.”

  “You think that would fix anything? Solve your problems?”

  “Who are you? My new therapist?”

  “No, your new boss. It’s not like therapists w
ork with you, do they?”

  As soon as Foxy finished speaking, another imaginary needle, larger than last time, pierced Asher’s head before he could brace himself. He yelped as a voice cut through his consciousness along with a vivid image of a man in his thirties. His old school’s counselor. “You’re wasting my time, Asher.”

  “That feeling’s mutual.”

  The memory vanished as quickly as it had come. Only a vague sense of disappointment stuck with Asher as he tried to get his bearings back.

  “It’s too bad nobody wanted to listen to your story,” Foxy said. “But I’m all ears.”

  “Get the fuck out of my mind.”

  “But I’m having so much fun.”

  And apparently, he wasn’t done yet. Asher could only wince as another scene from his life replayed before his eyes.

  “Get lost, you stupid fag!” Someone grabbed him by the nape of his jacket. He whirled around. Punched.

  Oh, fuck it. That fight had turned ugly quickly.

  “Have you always been so violent?”

  This time Asher was prepared for the attack, but when Foxy cut through the shields he threw up, there was little he could do, no matter how much he tried to fight back. It felt like he was trying to stop the sharp end of a knife from stabbing him by pushing against it with his bare hand. It was a miracle he wasn’t bleeding from his head as Foxy pressed onward.

  He stood on the playground of his grade school. “Your mom slept with my dad,” a boy in front of him said, “and she slept with Tony’s dad, too. So she’s a whore.” All eyes were on Asher. The other children expected him to do something, but what?

  “You too scared to answer, now?” the boy said. “Maybe you’re a whore, too. I bet you’re just like your mom and you—”

  Asher wrestled the other boy to the ground and punched him. “Shut up!”

  “Are you—”

  “—crazy!?” his mom’s voice shouted, rang through his mind. “You can’t go around punching other children! What is wrong with you? What did I do to deserve this?”

  Asher gasped as the memory faded, feeling like he’d just come up from under water. Shit. He’d forgotten all about that day.