True Refuge

by Annabelle McInnes

  The man who had given his life meaning, given him a sense of purpose, of worth. A man who held Euan’s heart in his hands and likely didn’t even know it.

  A man who now lay in a lifeless ball on the floor before him.

  Dark patches of dried blood and other bodily fluids could be seen in various shapes and formations around him, testament to his struggles. He lay on his side with his knees bent towards his body, and his wrists and forearms were bound around and under his thighs, effectively restricting any movement. His craven attackers hadn’t even bothered to remove his boots and pants, which were pulled down to his ankles, becoming a perfect substitute for bindings to keep his feet immobile.

  His shirt was in tatters, ripped from his body in some places and clinging to others from the sweat or blood caused by his exertions and torment. Nick’s shoulder-length blonde hair was a tangled mess, fused together from where he had bled profusely, the knotted waves shielding his face from Euan’s view.

  From the angle that Nick lay in, Euan could not see his backside, but he knew it would be a tragic wreck, one he feared Nick could not come back from. If he were even alive.

  Please God, let him be alive.

  As Euan viewed the chaos, the anarchy, the evidence of the utter violence that had occurred here, the man on the floor took a shuddering breath, his upper torso rising and falling in a painful inhale.

  Thank fuck!

  Nick was alive! His Nicky was hurt, damaged, but alive.

  Euan slipped inside the room and approached him cautiously, his booted feet almost silent on the rotting carpet. It was then he realised that Nick was blindfolded; the dirty cloth had been lost in the mass of bloody blonde curls. Nick would have had to experience his torture blind, not knowing when the next blow would come, or when he’d have to endure the next violation.

  As he approached, he could see Nick tense. All the muscles in his back pulled taut in stark relief against the growing light. His breath hitched and his purple fingers flinched. Euan could see they’d stuffed a rag in his mouth and he watched as Nick’s jaw tightened in preparation for what he thought was to come.

  Euan’s chest ached. His muscles burned. His hands shook. He approached cautiously, and when he was in whispering distance he quietly shushed the man, knelt and reached out to touch Nick’s now-quivering shoulder, absorbing the flinch.

  ‘Easy now,’ Euan crooned softly in reassurance. ‘It’s me. I’ve come back.’

  A cry of inarticulate anguish and relief was his answer. Nick convulsed almost violently under his palm and Euan had to swallow his own emotion as it threatened to break through his internal barricades.

  Placing the Glock at the small of his back for easy access, he pulled the knife from his belt and began to cut the rope that bound Nick’s forearms and wrists. The bindings were tight enough to have caused his hands to turn a tortuous shade of purple and the stress on his muscles from being bound for so long would have to be excruciating.

  Fitting his body protectively over Nick’s prone form, Euan sawed at the rope. Just before it gave way, he bent his head to whisper softly in Nick’s ear, warning him of the pain to come.

  ‘I’m gonna cut the ropes that bind your hands. As the blood rushes back into them, it’s going to burn like a motherfucker. You’re gonna have to keep silent, yeah? Can you do that for me?’ he asked.

  Euan could see Nick’s tears wetting the dirty yellow blindfold, two sodden patches where his eyes were screwed up tight against the pain and relief. After Nick jerked his chin in acceptance, Euan reached over and deftly sliced the twine that held his hands together.

  Nick let out a low, anguished groan as the bindings came undone. The sound pierced Euan’s heart as surely as any blade.

  Nick’s lean body unravelled underneath his. Euan removed the rag from the man’s mouth with a gentle caress along his jaw, before shifting so he could tenderly massage the blood back into Nick’s palms. The harrowing, muffled cry that tore from Nick’s lips had Euan easing his grip due to the quiver in his own fingers.

  ‘I got you. We’re outta here, yeah? I’m gonna collect what’s left of our stuff, then swing you over my shoulder. Think you can manage that?’ he whispered, his hands finishing his massage to move over Nick’s body, reassuring himself that, though he may be injured, he was whole.

  ‘There’s nothin’ left,’ Nick croaked. His voice was jagged like broken glass, his emotional torment as evident as his physical pain.

  Euan lifted his gaze to quickly scan the immediate surroundings. In his rush to help Nick, he hadn’t noticed that the destruction that surrounded them was the remnants of their lives together. It was chaos. Their meagre belongings, their sleeping blankets and small treasures they had hoarded over the years were destroyed, crushed or torn. And based on the stink that permeated both Nick and his surroundings, likely pissed on as well.

  ‘Those fucking motherfuckers.’ Euan had left most of their belongings with Nick, and as he scanned the wreckage, he wished he’d taken more than just Nick with him. Or just not left at all.

  Vengeance burned an agonising hole in his chest. It was causing his breath to labour in his lungs, as though the oxygen could not sustain him. His fury was expanding, his desire for violence and savagery overriding his ability to think, to breathe. It took all his self-control not to turn, hunt down and kill the bastards who dared to touch this man. His man.

  He would see those sons of bitches die. But not yet. Now he needed to focus on Nick.

  He was particularly careful as he helped Nick pull his pants up around his hips before he moved his body in preparation to lift him in a fireman’s hold over his shoulder. ‘I’m gonna lift you now. Ready?’

  Nick nodded, moving slowly as Euan positioned him.

  ‘I got you. It’s gonna be okay,’ Euan told him, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion.

  ‘It is now that you’re back, big man,’ Nick murmured.

  At Nick’s mumbled confirmation, Euan felt the bubble of fear burst inside his chest. A profound relief swamped his senses, causing his throat to tighten and his eyes to sting. But fear’s absence left a gaping wound, one that was quickly infected with guilt, shame and remorse.

  ‘Nicky—’ Euan began.

  ‘Not here,’ Nick interrupted sharply, his jade-green eyes shining as they met Euan’s deeply concerned gaze in the limited light. ‘Not here. Please.’

  He studied Nick’s features before he replied. Past the bruising, the blood, the swelling, lay a man who was holding his emotions behind a veil of gossamer. Only a tiny pull on one of those delicate threads and the entire curtain would unravel.

  ‘Let’s get outta here then, yeah?’ Euan told him instead, his hold on his own turmoil a delicate thing.

  When Nick nodded, Euan put a shoulder to his midsection and hefted him over his upper torso. Other than uttering a small grunt as Euan positioned him, Nick was silent as Euan carefully made his way back through the derelict house, out the front door and down the wooden steps into the growing morning sunlight.

  Euan was also outwardly mute, but his inner voice was in uproar, violently swearing revenge and retribution for the depraved deeds that had been done to the man slumped over his shoulder in exhausted, agonising misery.

  He’d kill them. He’d hunt them down like dogs, maim, torture and mutilate them. Once Nick was safe, those motherfuckers were dead.

  Chapter 3

  The dew had fully burned off the pasture and the morning sun was well on its way towards its zenith when Euan finally made it to his camp by a bubbling creek. The secluded oasis was sheltered by a small number of trees and was hidden in a shallow ravine that ensured prying eyes were thwarted from discovering their location.

  Euan had left his backpack and set up camp by the creek in the small hope he’d rescue Nick. It had taken time he didn’t have, but he was grateful that he’d spared those few precious minutes in preparation. Nick needed his complete focus now.

  Nick had tried to coerce him into l
etting him use his own feet once they were out of sight of the weatherboard house. But Euan, sensing that Nick wanted more than just the ability to know his limbs still worked, was not going to be deceived by the man’s attempts to pull away from him. Instead, he’d shifted Nick into his arms and carried him like a lover. He had resisted at first, but just as Euan intended, Nick’s rigid body softened against his chest after a few moments and relaxed into his hold.

  His boots crunched over the rocky water’s edge. Their silence up until this point had been heavy, both men consumed by their own thoughts while they drew strength from each other in the intimate hold. But as the sounds of the water rushing with joyous intent towards some coast far beyond the horizon increased, Euan felt the need to intrude on the quiet.

  ‘How are you going? Feel like showing me how bad the damage is?’ Euan asked as he gently lowered Nick onto a towel he’d laid out by the meandering water.

  Nick grunted as he let Euan maneuver him until he lay uncomfortably on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky with uncharacteristically sombre green eyes.

  Nick looked like hell. He looked worse than hell. Nick looked like a man shattered beyond redemption. Beyond hope. Beyond aid.

  Beyond Euan.

  When Nick relaxed, Euan attempted to carefully remove the shredded remains of his shirt. The top was a torn and twisted wreck, much the same as Euan’s conscience.

  ‘Nicky—’ he began, for the second time that morning.

  And just like earlier, Nick fiercely interrupted him, halting his confession.

  ‘I said no, Euan. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t wanna hear it.’ His voice was unusually vicious.

  Euan studied him. His dancing jade eyes were vacant, and his jaw was clenched so damn hard he was surprised his teeth hadn’t cracked.

  Euan had been sure that as long as Nick survived, they’d get through whatever trials he’d endured. However, as he watched the young man try valiantly to hold his tears at bay, his body and mind so wounded he knew it was only his damn will that was keeping him from imploding, he wasn’t so certain.

  ‘Okay. But I’ll say what I need to say soon enough,’ Euan said instead of speaking the apology that burned in this throat, his chest, his fucking heart. ‘In the meantime, how about we get you cleaned up, see what we’re dealing with, yeah?’

  Nick only nodded and lifted his torso slightly so Euan could remove the torn fabric of his shirt over his head.

  After Euan balled up the ruined garment and threw it to the side, he moved to Nick’s feet. Once the dusty, worn hiking boots were discarded, Nick spoke again.

  ‘Are you going back there, to find them?’ he asked quietly, shifting his body for Euan to finally unfasten his pants and pull them down his legs.

  Euan didn’t reply, couldn’t even if he’d wanted to. His mind was too consumed by what he saw before him.

  Without the clothing, and in the bright midday sunlight, Euan could fully comprehend the level of destruction of Nick’s body. He was bruised, scratched and bloodied. Crimson was still seeping from some of the abrasions where the fabric of his clothes had rubbed against the healing skin. His knees were raw, his thighs mottled black and purple. His dick was thankfully unmolested due to the position they’d hogtied him in, but the nest of blonde curls that surrounded it was stained red. It was a small reprieve, considering the other signatures left behind from the traumatic imprisonment.

  ‘Nicky …’ Euan breathed and reached out, but Nick batted his hand away. He attempted to pull his knees closer to his chest to hide his body from view, only to wince and halt his movements, his eyes averted.

  The silence stretched out between them. It was agonising to withstand. Euan’s breath was shallow as he waited for Nick to speak.

  Finally, the words came slowly. ‘I stabbed Jim,’ Nick murmured. ‘He was … he’ll be dead by tomorrow.’

  Euan was horrified. ‘You stabbed a man? Fuck, Nick, I’m so—’

  ‘No,’ Nick interjected, his shoulders beginning to tremble as he curled in towards himself further, despite the obvious pain it caused. ‘Just, no.’

  In the face of such anguish, Euan could only nod. His heart was in his mouth as he uttered the next words, which would force him to face the final repercussions of his terrible decision.

  ‘Let me help you roll over,’ Euan told him quietly. ‘Get a look at the rest of you.’

  Nick complied, slowly turning his body with Euan’s help until his chest, stomach and legs lay on the threadbare towel. His shoulders, spine and backside were now visible to Euan’s gaze.

  For the first time since he’d seen him that morning, Euan reached out to gently caress Nick’s marred and mottled skin. His fingertips traced the prominent bones of his shoulder blades and down each bump of his vertebrae until they stopped just between the two dimples that rested on the upper curve of his arse. What was visible between the muscles explicitly made clear the type of torture he had suffered.

  ‘I can’t … talk about it,’ Nick whispered haltingly, taking a deep breath and turning his head away.

  Euan’s gut clenched.

  ‘Look at me, Nicky,’ he demanded quietly.

  Nick had broken out in a light sheen of sweat and every muscle had tightened. Euan could feel a faint tremor as he tenderly stroked the skin of Nick’s thighs and backside.

  It took a while, and Euan let him take his time, but eventually Nick turned his head to meet his unwavering stare.

  Nick’s green eyes were glassy, his emotions barely kept in check. He’d been violated, abused, beaten and raped. He could never hide his feelings from Euan. It was one of his best characteristics, that charming vulnerability he found so appealing. But now, as Euan saw the torment of his experiences shining without restraint in the depths of jade, he wished Nick wasn’t so expressive.

  But that was his penance, and to have Nick alive, he’d take that serrated knife to the chest with every look for the rest of his life if he had to.

  He held Nick’s gaze and watched as he licked his lips in trepidation.

  ‘I get that you don’t want to talk about it. I do. We’ll focus on getting you cleaned up first, yeah?’ Euan said, his voice soft.

  Nick nodded, a look of small relief washing over his pained features. He took a deep breath before he spoke again.

  ‘You didn’t answer my earlier question,’ he whispered, his throat clogged with his inner turmoil.

  ‘That’s because you know the answer to it already,’ Euan replied.

  A sudden surge had Nick nearly jumping up from his prone position. It was only Euan’s quick reflexes with a firm restraining hand on his nape that stopped the young man from reaching his feet.

  ‘You can’t! It ain’t worth it. Just let those bastards be, all right? We’re safe. We’ll head out, go our own way. Leave all that shit behind us,’ Nick cried in surprising desperation.

  Euan hid his shock at Nick’s outburst when all he wanted to do was roar out his fury. Nick. His Nick thought it wasn’t worth Euan’s time to pursue the men who did this to him? Maybe that hit to the head had damaged more than he thought.

  ‘You aren’t worth it, Nicky?’ Euan asked ominously.

  Nick’s response was immediate.

  ‘I ain’t worth you getting yourself killed. I have faith in those fists of yours, you know I do, but two, maybe three against one? Let’s just head out. The two of us. Leave it be,’ he pleaded.

  Euan took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs and the oxygen fueling his blood, cooling the sudden burst of temper that burned through him. He took Nick’s stubbled chin between his thumb and forefinger to lift his gaze to meet his own, his other hand still holding the young man’s nape.

  ‘I’d do just about anything to see those bastards pay for what they did to you. You’re worth every ounce of pain I suffer to do it. Don’t say that shit to me again,’ he told him in warning.

  Nick pulled his head from Euan’s grasp and moved away.

  ‘I�
��m not going to let you go after them. Not without me.’

  Euan’s gaze slid over the abused skin, the quivering shoulders, the tense muscles as Nick hunched just out of reach. To push would achieve nothing, Euan knew that much.

  He shifted, stretched his long arm out and rested his palm on Nick’s shoulder. The man flinched at the contact, before his body settled. His chest rose and fell in a deep, pent-up breaths.

  ‘Let’s get you cleaned up and fed, and put some clothes on you. We can talk about the rest later,’ Euan murmured, his grip tightening infinitely.

  ‘Promise me you won’t go back,’ Nick whispered.

  ‘I can’t do that, kid,’ Euan told him in reply.

  ‘Then I’ll go with you.’ Nick’s voice broke.

  Euan’s heart shattered, the sharp pieces exploding inside his chest cavity. Nick had been brought to the edge of destruction by the evil that was now all that was left of mankind, and still he was determined to protect, to defend, to champion despite all that he had suffered.

  Euan rested his forehead on a small portion of unmarred skin between Nick’s shoulder blades. This time, there was no recoil, just a slight twitch. He inhaled deeply. Past the stink of filth, dirt and piss was the heady, masculine scent of the man he loved. His resolve tightened.

  ‘Get yourself in the water. I’ll help clean you up, but I wanna grab some clothes for you first, yeah?’

  Nick blew out a heavy sigh. In the thick silence that followed, Euan felt their connection begin to fragment, as though the rope between them was breaking, thread by thread. Nick’s reply was laced with quiet suffering. ‘Whatever, Euan. Yeah.’

  Chapter 4

  Euan didn’t often have nightmares, but when he did, they were horrific.

  Images from his past would be twisted into portrayals of the present or visions of a potential future. That night, his mind brought forward the memories of the rows of bloated, diseased bodies that were lined in their hundreds outside hospitals that could no longer house them within their walls. Towards the end, they didn’t even have sheets to cover them, or hadn’t bothered, as those who were left behind were more focused on surviving than on paying homage to the dead. There had been pictures on television screens of bulldozers shoveling piles of broken corpses into enormous pits. Those in the western world had been sure that such atrocities would never be enacted on their shores.