A Thousand Beautiful Things | 15
Title: A Thousand Beautiful Things
Author: lemon_bar
Rating: R
Chapter Fifteen: Breaking Silence
Month Four: Week Three
“That’s what Emmett said,” Brian said as he sat with Justin in their spot at the top of the hill. It was getting chillier, and Justin was wearing the tattered, too-large sweater that Brian was sure had some sort of back-story that had not yet learned.
“Yeah,” Justin said. “So what?”
Like the staff of Liberty, Brian did his best to forget about Justin’s attacks until they were impossible to ignore. He’d put-off the discussion for one reason or another, and now there simply wasn’t the luxury. He needed to know.
“So what was going on?” Brian asked.
“I don’t like talking about this,” Justin said stubbornly.
“Try,” Brian said. “You don’t have to get specific,” Brian compromised. Justin sat for a moment quietly, focussing at a point down the hill and partway through the surrounding woods.
“Emmett was right. They tried a lot of stuff the first few times it happened. My reactions were pretty intense,” Justin said. He sounded entirely casual. “They even tried some prescriptions on me, but I was allergic and had bad reactions to some, and the others made me crazier than when I wasn’t taking them, so Blake quickly called a halt to that. They settled for sedating me and keeping me in my room. So basically I was a sitting duck, because he was new, then, and patrolling the main halls. He didn’t need to worry about me fighting him off or saying anything, because I was out of it, because I was always under mild sedation.”
“So what changed?” Something had to have changed in order for Justin to fight the sedative and turn violent.
“Nothing changed,” Justin said. “I’m not some weak little faggot, you know. Staying in my room on that week when he was there, that wasn’t working. It wasn’t safe. So I had to find a way to be away.”
“So you ... faked the attack?” Brian asked.
“Panic does a lot of crazy things to you,” Justin said. “It was about survival. So I fought through the haze, and when I was sitting in the rec room near the beginning of the week, I started pitching a fit. I tried to be as loud as I could, and the staff came running, and I just went crazy on them, and I hit one -- which I felt bad for later, but at the time it was like, like it was him or me, and dammit if it was going to be me again!” Justin shrugged. “So I went to solitary, and since I was away from where Chris did his rounds, I was safe. Solitary rooms have locks which only the patient can release, or a staff member with the key.”
“The patient can unlock their room?” Brian asked.
“Solitary at Liberty isn’t like solitary in a prison, Brian. The nurses can override the patient lock if they want, so the patient has to stay in the room. But for the most part, it’s just so the person can have some quiet space to themselves without any pressure. When the patient wants to be released, and their therapist agrees with it of course, then they return to their room.”
“This place is really weird,” Brian muttered, and Justin laughed.
“Yeah, well. It all worked beautifully until he got promoted. He’d been working there long enough that they switched him to solitary patrols, and then I wasn’t safe there. So I tried to stay out of solitary, which should have been easy, because I’d been faking attacks to get in there in the first place. It wasn’t real. Only it became real, because the panic was real, and he was so much like -- like --”
“Like your dad?” Brian asked. Justin nodded.
“It didn’t take much for him, anymore. Emmett said that his therapist said if you keep things inside too long, they don’t go away, they just build-up. And I can’t help it. The panic is real, and even though I know -- I know that if I can just stay calm, I’ll be safe. If I can just -- just not queen out just once -- I can actually have some peace. It doesn’t work. One entire week, and it seems so quick, unless you’re trying every minute of every day to suppress full-blown panic, because he never lets me be.”
“This week will be different,” Brian said. “I’m here, and I’m going to help you.”
.......................
Justin held-out until Thursday, and Brian watched as each day it became harder to distract the blond. In the end, the attack happened at night. Four nights of nightmares left Justin awake, sitting up in bed at three o’clock in the morning, and he was already pretty jumpy because it was Thursday. Brian, who had been up each night --woken by Justin’s furious dreaming --, had finally passed out from exhaustion. In the end, the panic was brought on not by Christopher’s meddling, but by the sound of the night-nurse’s shoes on the tile outside of his room, and the quiet jingle of keys.
Justin knew all he had to do was get to Brian. Once Brian was awake, he’d know what to do, he’d make sure Justin stayed quiet. He’d managed it successfully several times already in the week. He just needed to make it out of bed and across the room, and wake the other man up. Then he’d be safe.
Justin stumbled from bed like a colt on new legs, twisted his feet in the blankets and knocked the lamp from the nightstand onto the floor. He didn’t hear it crash. He staggered to Brian’s bed and patted furiously at Brian’s arm, smacking him, really, but Justin wasn’t thinking about what he was doing, he could barely breath, he was crying involuntary tears.
Brian woke at about the same time the night-nurse made it into the room to see what was happening. Brian had wrapped Justin in his arms, had tried to explain that if the man just gave them a minute, Justin would be fine.
This time it didn’t take any orderlies. The nurse pulled out the sedative, and Justin turned into Brian’s body, trying to make himself very small. A moment later, Justin’s body was dead weight in Brian’s embrace.
.........................
“Like clockwork,” Christopher commented as Bernard carried the limp body of Justin Taylor to the bright marigold room.
“Shut up, and open the door,” Bernard ordered. He didn’t like having to sedate Justin. He hadn’t liked Dr. Peterson’s idea, but he’d seen the reason in it, and had kept his mouth shut.
Bernard placed Justin carefully onto the bed and tucked him under the covers, checking over his vitals to make certain everything was fine before he stepped back and did the hardest thing he had ever had to do. “He’s all yours.”
Christopher smiled a little. “As usual,” he said. Bernard stepped out of the room, Christopher right behind him. As he retreated down the hall, Bernard heard the click of the lock and wondered how long Christopher would wait before he opened it up again.
...........................
Friday morning, Lindsay sat through a session with Brian who was sullen, angry, and just about fed-up with the way Liberty was handling the situation. She endured it, though, because that morning Paul and Arlene, two of the night-nurses who had agreed to help, had both relayed that Christopher had done nothing untoward; but then again, Justin had been brought in quite early in the morning.
Following her appointment with Brian, Lindsay brought lunch to the marigold room, but Justin lay there with his back to the door, and wouldn’t look at her, and pushed the food away as if it made him sick to smell it. She recorded this, did her best to convince herself that this was for the best, and spent the rest of the session reading out loud from ‘Darlington’s Fall’ which was the book Justin had been reading before he’d been taking to solitary that week.
She tried again to coax him to eat, spared a moment to wonder if she should allow Michael or Brian in, perhaps they might be more successful, and in the end left Justin to sleep because he’d fallen asleep before she even finished one of the short chapters in the book, and by the smudges beneath his eyes, he seemed to need the rest.
....................
The room was quiet without Justin in it. Brian distracted himself with a book, but it wasn’t the same without the constant scratching of Justin’s pencil on paper. Daphne came around for room-checks and tried to muster a smile, but had left not long after placing the tick-mark on her clipboard. Brian wondered how he would make it out of his room that night, because there seemed to be more nurses on the floor.
He waited as the lights turned out. Tried to keep patient as the time ticked by, until he was sure there would be a chance to slip down the hall.
..........................
Justin had slept the day away, and now he was awake. His mind raced with memories until he wasn’t sure if he was imagining other times before, or if the lock was turning in the door. He sat up, scooted to the head of the bed and tried to breath, tried to remain calm. Moments passed and the door hadn’t opened.
“It’s all in your head,” he whispered to himself, and almost laughed. Only he knew it hadn’t been. A half year taught him this wasn’t just his imagination, even if this time the lock hadn’t moved, it would. It was only a matter of time.
..........................
Brian ducked into a patient’s room as a nurse came around the corner. The patrol schedule was definitely different that night. He didn’t stop to think about it. He was wasting time sitting in that room and Justin probably needed him and he couldn’t move because he’d be caught.
He peered out through the small window in the door and watched the nurse pass. Waited a moment more, looking at the sleeping patients, happy he hadn’t woken them, happy they didn’t need help and call nurses to them. Then it was safe to move and he was out the door again, moving down the shadowed halls.
............................
Arlene watched as Christopher came out of the blue room, locked it behind him and made an adjustment to the chart. He was moving quickly through the checks and she wondered if he was marking the times down correctly, or if he was messing with the information. Bernard had said that Christopher’s time sheet had seemed perfectly correct, but Christopher likely wouldn’t let something like that give him away after all this time.
Christopher paused before going into the peach room, he was fiddling with his keys. Arlene wondered what he was doing, she turned to ask Paul but the other nurse was looking at something down the hall. Without a word, he stalked down the hall away from the solitary rooms.
“Paul?” she whispered, then glanced back at where Christopher was. He was checking his clipboard. He still had two more rooms before he hit marigold. She turned and followed Paul. “What the hell are you doing?” she whispered.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Paul asked, his gaze focussed on a shadowy corner.
.......................
Justin thought about what Brian had promised him. This week would be different. But it was already looking so much the same. What if Brian didn’t make it? What if no one listened to him, or he was found out of bed by a nurse? What happened then?
A silly question, really, Justin knew what would happen. It was the same thing that always happened. But he’d been filled with a strange kind of hope ever since hearing Brian’s promise. What if this week really could be different? Hadn’t things changed already? So much had happened in the passed few months. Good things and bad, but it was change just the same. Change was possible, even amidst such predictable days.
He smiled to himself thinking of Brian, knowing the man was coming. Knowing this week it would all change. Feeling confident, Justin sat calmly in his bed, until he noticed the lock turning.
.......................
Christopher finished writing-in the other checks he had to do. He stepped away from the door and headed for the marigold room, his key already in his hand. “Like clockwork,” he said to himself as he opened the door.
.......................
Brian stood up from where he had been crouched in the shadow. “What the hell?” Arlene asked.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Paul repeated.
“I’m trying to get to the marigold room,” Brian said.
“Well, you can’t.” Paul explained. “Now go back to bed or I’ll have to escort you back.”
.......................
Christopher always seemed so much bigger to Justin, and this time wasn’t any different as the man shut the door behind him and turned the lock. “Hello, Sweetheart,” the man purred.
Justin looked around the shadows, but there was nothing there, he saw no movement behind Chris, heard no sound. Brian wasn’t there. This week wasn’t any different at all. He sat still trying to come to grips with the reality of this -- no one would come -- it was him and Christopher just like it always would be. This would happen again and again, forever and ever until Christopher had his fill, until he left Liberty, until Justin died. No one would come nothing would change.
Christopher’s hands were on him, and Justin squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t like Christopher’s touch, he was scared and he was alone and no one was coming. Then his shirt was gone and Christopher was pushing him backward with one hand, the other going to the knot at Justin’s pants. He’d triple-knotted his pants, he wanted to keep them on, but it didn’t seem to help. Christopher had them off not long after, and Justin was alone and naked and exposed. No one was coming nothing was different.
“Shh,” Christopher cooed, and Justin realized he could barely catch a breath. “Relax.”
...........................
Brian pushed Paul backwards and Arlene, who had been about to turn away and leave Paul to handle this and return to her task, turned back. “I’m not leaving,” Brian said.
“Brian, go back to your room. We’ll take care of this,” Arlene said.
“No.”
............................
Justin was tense; his eyes squeezed tight shut, his hands gripping the side of the bed. He wasn’t there. He was anywhere but there. He was at the edge of the garden, he was rolling down the hill, he was swimming in the sea he was anywhere but there.
Christopher’s tongue was on his body; the other man pried Justin’s fingers free from the bed and tugged his arm over toward Christopher’s cock. Justin didn’t want to touch him, he pulled his arm away but Christopher’s grip was strong. It was just like always, and Justin was the victim again and he could barely fight and couldn’t make a sound -- what good would it do? It would only make Christopher angry and he’d strike at him with his fists and feet, and Justin would be broken again and again. Just like always. A weak little faggot just like his father had told him he was, just like Christopher knew he was -- why else would Christopher pick him? Weak and silent. He was practically asking for it. He deserved it.
“You like this,” Christopher said. But Justin didn’t. He hated it. He hated being weak, he hated being quiet, but most of all he hated the fear that, if he spoke, the rage and anger would come out of him -- just burst out -- and it would be too much for him to control and it would take over and then Justin would really be alone. “Come on,” Christopher said, wrapped Justin’s hand around his dick and thrust forward.
Clench your hand, Justin thought. Clench your hand, bite him, scratch him, claw at him. The thoughts were circling through his head but he couldn’t move. He was working so hard to keep his rage back what would happen if he unleashed it? It was too big. He would hurt someone. He wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Christopher gripped Justin’s thighs and pushed at them. “Come on,” Christopher said. Justin couldn’t move his legs. “Open them,” Christopher said. But Justin couldn’t move them. Who could he hurt? It was just him and Christopher alone in this room. Him or me, Justin thought. He was sick and tired of it being him. “Fucking open your legs, Taylor,” Christopher hissed.
“No,” Justin said.
...............................
“Brian,” Paul gripped Brian’s arm but Brian pulled it away.
“I’m not leaving. Get out of my way,” Brian said.
“Brian, I’m going to have no choice but to sedate you if you don’t listen to me,” Paul said.
“I’m not leaving!” Brian yelled, his voice echoing in the hall.
.................................
“What?” Christopher asked, his face suddenly very close to Justin’s.
“No,” Justin said. “I won’t.” Christopher’s smile was as terrifying as the rest of him. Justin didn’t know what he had gotten himself into but either way it had to stop.
Christopher’s hands were around his throat in a flash and Justin was swamped in memory. Suddenly it wasn’t Christopher, but the man -- the man who had choked him before --- his father. His own father. And just like then, he was alone and he couldn’t speak -- didn’t have the air to speak. He could barely fight. Thoughts flickered through his head -- this could be it -- this could be a way out. This could put an end to it. But Justin wasn’t through, was he? He didn’t want to be through. Except what was he holding on for? It would all go away, everything would be peaceful.
Justin’s eyes were watering, he flapped a hand at Christopher but the man barely even flinched. It was useless, he was overpowered; once again, he’d been subdued -- except he didn’t feel subdued. His anger, his fear, his panic, his pain was roiling in the pit of his stomach. He was strung tightly like a bow.
“I’m not leaving!” and the words rang through his head. Everything clicked into place. He wasn’t done. He wasn’t subdued. He would never be subdued.
Justin bucked hard, throwing Christopher back. The man still kneeled over him, but had to move his hands away from Justin’s throat to grab hold of the bed in order to prevent himself from falling off. Breath flooded into Justin’s lungs and suddenly the shout he had heard, had thought he had imagined, made sense in his mind. Not alone. Not at all. This week was different.
“Get off me!” Justin screamed with all he was worth. He kicked and screamed until Christopher toppled off the bed. “Don’t touch me!”
............................
Brian pushed passed the nurses at the first shout, but they weren’t far behind him. By the time the second shout rang through the halls, Brian knew they’d finally processed what they had been hearing and were no longer chasing him but following. Confident they had the same goal in mind, Brian turned the handle to the marigold room, only to find it locked. He pounded uselessly at it for a moment before Arlene pushed him to the side and opened the door with her key.
Justin was a wild thing; Brian had never seen him like that before. Christopher could barely keep the younger man off him, and Justin was screaming and beating his fists against his attacker’s body. He was naked, there were claw marks on his chest and bruising at his throat, and Justin didn’t seem to hear when Paul and Arlene told him that it was all right, to relax, that he was safe.
“Justin,” Brian said. But Justin clawed at Christopher’s cheek, leaving a path of nail marks, cutting into the skin. Justin was sobbing and screaming, telling Christopher to stop, but Christopher was barely doing anything, trying futilely to hold the furious blond away.
“We’ll have to sedate him,” Paul said.
“Fuck that,” Brian said, he stepped forward before the nurses could, pulled the sheet from the small bed and threw it over Justin’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around Justin. Justin still struggled, even as Brian pulled him off of Christopher and into his lap on the floor. He stopped screaming, tucked his head under Brian’s chin, and struck out one more time with his foot, kicking a groaning Christopher in the side of the head. “I’m here,” Brian whispered so only Justin could hear. “I’m here, and you’re safe now. You’re safe now.”
Brian didn’t see it happen, he was focussing only on calming Justin and keeping him safe. Around them, Arlene called for help and doctors came to take Christopher away and tend to his wounds. Lindsay came in, but left Brian and Justin to themselves when she saw them, questioning Paul and Arlene instead. Police were called. Patients who had been fast asleep in solitary grew curious and left their rooms and the nurses had to calm them down and override their locking system because there was enough chaos without them. And Brian just held Justin close, his head tucked into the side of Justin’s neck and tried to convince himself that it was really over.
|<< [END CHAPTER] >>|
masterpost
Author: lemon_bar
Rating: R
Chapter Fifteen: Breaking Silence
Month Four: Week Three
“That’s what Emmett said,” Brian said as he sat with Justin in their spot at the top of the hill. It was getting chillier, and Justin was wearing the tattered, too-large sweater that Brian was sure had some sort of back-story that had not yet learned.
“Yeah,” Justin said. “So what?”
Like the staff of Liberty, Brian did his best to forget about Justin’s attacks until they were impossible to ignore. He’d put-off the discussion for one reason or another, and now there simply wasn’t the luxury. He needed to know.
“So what was going on?” Brian asked.
“I don’t like talking about this,” Justin said stubbornly.
“Try,” Brian said. “You don’t have to get specific,” Brian compromised. Justin sat for a moment quietly, focussing at a point down the hill and partway through the surrounding woods.
“Emmett was right. They tried a lot of stuff the first few times it happened. My reactions were pretty intense,” Justin said. He sounded entirely casual. “They even tried some prescriptions on me, but I was allergic and had bad reactions to some, and the others made me crazier than when I wasn’t taking them, so Blake quickly called a halt to that. They settled for sedating me and keeping me in my room. So basically I was a sitting duck, because he was new, then, and patrolling the main halls. He didn’t need to worry about me fighting him off or saying anything, because I was out of it, because I was always under mild sedation.”
“So what changed?” Something had to have changed in order for Justin to fight the sedative and turn violent.
“Nothing changed,” Justin said. “I’m not some weak little faggot, you know. Staying in my room on that week when he was there, that wasn’t working. It wasn’t safe. So I had to find a way to be away.”
“So you ... faked the attack?” Brian asked.
“Panic does a lot of crazy things to you,” Justin said. “It was about survival. So I fought through the haze, and when I was sitting in the rec room near the beginning of the week, I started pitching a fit. I tried to be as loud as I could, and the staff came running, and I just went crazy on them, and I hit one -- which I felt bad for later, but at the time it was like, like it was him or me, and dammit if it was going to be me again!” Justin shrugged. “So I went to solitary, and since I was away from where Chris did his rounds, I was safe. Solitary rooms have locks which only the patient can release, or a staff member with the key.”
“The patient can unlock their room?” Brian asked.
“Solitary at Liberty isn’t like solitary in a prison, Brian. The nurses can override the patient lock if they want, so the patient has to stay in the room. But for the most part, it’s just so the person can have some quiet space to themselves without any pressure. When the patient wants to be released, and their therapist agrees with it of course, then they return to their room.”
“This place is really weird,” Brian muttered, and Justin laughed.
“Yeah, well. It all worked beautifully until he got promoted. He’d been working there long enough that they switched him to solitary patrols, and then I wasn’t safe there. So I tried to stay out of solitary, which should have been easy, because I’d been faking attacks to get in there in the first place. It wasn’t real. Only it became real, because the panic was real, and he was so much like -- like --”
“Like your dad?” Brian asked. Justin nodded.
“It didn’t take much for him, anymore. Emmett said that his therapist said if you keep things inside too long, they don’t go away, they just build-up. And I can’t help it. The panic is real, and even though I know -- I know that if I can just stay calm, I’ll be safe. If I can just -- just not queen out just once -- I can actually have some peace. It doesn’t work. One entire week, and it seems so quick, unless you’re trying every minute of every day to suppress full-blown panic, because he never lets me be.”
“This week will be different,” Brian said. “I’m here, and I’m going to help you.”
.......................
Justin held-out until Thursday, and Brian watched as each day it became harder to distract the blond. In the end, the attack happened at night. Four nights of nightmares left Justin awake, sitting up in bed at three o’clock in the morning, and he was already pretty jumpy because it was Thursday. Brian, who had been up each night --woken by Justin’s furious dreaming --, had finally passed out from exhaustion. In the end, the panic was brought on not by Christopher’s meddling, but by the sound of the night-nurse’s shoes on the tile outside of his room, and the quiet jingle of keys.
Justin knew all he had to do was get to Brian. Once Brian was awake, he’d know what to do, he’d make sure Justin stayed quiet. He’d managed it successfully several times already in the week. He just needed to make it out of bed and across the room, and wake the other man up. Then he’d be safe.
Justin stumbled from bed like a colt on new legs, twisted his feet in the blankets and knocked the lamp from the nightstand onto the floor. He didn’t hear it crash. He staggered to Brian’s bed and patted furiously at Brian’s arm, smacking him, really, but Justin wasn’t thinking about what he was doing, he could barely breath, he was crying involuntary tears.
Brian woke at about the same time the night-nurse made it into the room to see what was happening. Brian had wrapped Justin in his arms, had tried to explain that if the man just gave them a minute, Justin would be fine.
This time it didn’t take any orderlies. The nurse pulled out the sedative, and Justin turned into Brian’s body, trying to make himself very small. A moment later, Justin’s body was dead weight in Brian’s embrace.
.........................
“Like clockwork,” Christopher commented as Bernard carried the limp body of Justin Taylor to the bright marigold room.
“Shut up, and open the door,” Bernard ordered. He didn’t like having to sedate Justin. He hadn’t liked Dr. Peterson’s idea, but he’d seen the reason in it, and had kept his mouth shut.
Bernard placed Justin carefully onto the bed and tucked him under the covers, checking over his vitals to make certain everything was fine before he stepped back and did the hardest thing he had ever had to do. “He’s all yours.”
Christopher smiled a little. “As usual,” he said. Bernard stepped out of the room, Christopher right behind him. As he retreated down the hall, Bernard heard the click of the lock and wondered how long Christopher would wait before he opened it up again.
...........................
Friday morning, Lindsay sat through a session with Brian who was sullen, angry, and just about fed-up with the way Liberty was handling the situation. She endured it, though, because that morning Paul and Arlene, two of the night-nurses who had agreed to help, had both relayed that Christopher had done nothing untoward; but then again, Justin had been brought in quite early in the morning.
Following her appointment with Brian, Lindsay brought lunch to the marigold room, but Justin lay there with his back to the door, and wouldn’t look at her, and pushed the food away as if it made him sick to smell it. She recorded this, did her best to convince herself that this was for the best, and spent the rest of the session reading out loud from ‘Darlington’s Fall’ which was the book Justin had been reading before he’d been taking to solitary that week.
She tried again to coax him to eat, spared a moment to wonder if she should allow Michael or Brian in, perhaps they might be more successful, and in the end left Justin to sleep because he’d fallen asleep before she even finished one of the short chapters in the book, and by the smudges beneath his eyes, he seemed to need the rest.
....................
The room was quiet without Justin in it. Brian distracted himself with a book, but it wasn’t the same without the constant scratching of Justin’s pencil on paper. Daphne came around for room-checks and tried to muster a smile, but had left not long after placing the tick-mark on her clipboard. Brian wondered how he would make it out of his room that night, because there seemed to be more nurses on the floor.
He waited as the lights turned out. Tried to keep patient as the time ticked by, until he was sure there would be a chance to slip down the hall.
..........................
Justin had slept the day away, and now he was awake. His mind raced with memories until he wasn’t sure if he was imagining other times before, or if the lock was turning in the door. He sat up, scooted to the head of the bed and tried to breath, tried to remain calm. Moments passed and the door hadn’t opened.
“It’s all in your head,” he whispered to himself, and almost laughed. Only he knew it hadn’t been. A half year taught him this wasn’t just his imagination, even if this time the lock hadn’t moved, it would. It was only a matter of time.
..........................
Brian ducked into a patient’s room as a nurse came around the corner. The patrol schedule was definitely different that night. He didn’t stop to think about it. He was wasting time sitting in that room and Justin probably needed him and he couldn’t move because he’d be caught.
He peered out through the small window in the door and watched the nurse pass. Waited a moment more, looking at the sleeping patients, happy he hadn’t woken them, happy they didn’t need help and call nurses to them. Then it was safe to move and he was out the door again, moving down the shadowed halls.
............................
Arlene watched as Christopher came out of the blue room, locked it behind him and made an adjustment to the chart. He was moving quickly through the checks and she wondered if he was marking the times down correctly, or if he was messing with the information. Bernard had said that Christopher’s time sheet had seemed perfectly correct, but Christopher likely wouldn’t let something like that give him away after all this time.
Christopher paused before going into the peach room, he was fiddling with his keys. Arlene wondered what he was doing, she turned to ask Paul but the other nurse was looking at something down the hall. Without a word, he stalked down the hall away from the solitary rooms.
“Paul?” she whispered, then glanced back at where Christopher was. He was checking his clipboard. He still had two more rooms before he hit marigold. She turned and followed Paul. “What the hell are you doing?” she whispered.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Paul asked, his gaze focussed on a shadowy corner.
.......................
Justin thought about what Brian had promised him. This week would be different. But it was already looking so much the same. What if Brian didn’t make it? What if no one listened to him, or he was found out of bed by a nurse? What happened then?
A silly question, really, Justin knew what would happen. It was the same thing that always happened. But he’d been filled with a strange kind of hope ever since hearing Brian’s promise. What if this week really could be different? Hadn’t things changed already? So much had happened in the passed few months. Good things and bad, but it was change just the same. Change was possible, even amidst such predictable days.
He smiled to himself thinking of Brian, knowing the man was coming. Knowing this week it would all change. Feeling confident, Justin sat calmly in his bed, until he noticed the lock turning.
.......................
Christopher finished writing-in the other checks he had to do. He stepped away from the door and headed for the marigold room, his key already in his hand. “Like clockwork,” he said to himself as he opened the door.
.......................
Brian stood up from where he had been crouched in the shadow. “What the hell?” Arlene asked.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Paul repeated.
“I’m trying to get to the marigold room,” Brian said.
“Well, you can’t.” Paul explained. “Now go back to bed or I’ll have to escort you back.”
.......................
Christopher always seemed so much bigger to Justin, and this time wasn’t any different as the man shut the door behind him and turned the lock. “Hello, Sweetheart,” the man purred.
Justin looked around the shadows, but there was nothing there, he saw no movement behind Chris, heard no sound. Brian wasn’t there. This week wasn’t any different at all. He sat still trying to come to grips with the reality of this -- no one would come -- it was him and Christopher just like it always would be. This would happen again and again, forever and ever until Christopher had his fill, until he left Liberty, until Justin died. No one would come nothing would change.
Christopher’s hands were on him, and Justin squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t like Christopher’s touch, he was scared and he was alone and no one was coming. Then his shirt was gone and Christopher was pushing him backward with one hand, the other going to the knot at Justin’s pants. He’d triple-knotted his pants, he wanted to keep them on, but it didn’t seem to help. Christopher had them off not long after, and Justin was alone and naked and exposed. No one was coming nothing was different.
“Shh,” Christopher cooed, and Justin realized he could barely catch a breath. “Relax.”
...........................
Brian pushed Paul backwards and Arlene, who had been about to turn away and leave Paul to handle this and return to her task, turned back. “I’m not leaving,” Brian said.
“Brian, go back to your room. We’ll take care of this,” Arlene said.
“No.”
............................
Justin was tense; his eyes squeezed tight shut, his hands gripping the side of the bed. He wasn’t there. He was anywhere but there. He was at the edge of the garden, he was rolling down the hill, he was swimming in the sea he was anywhere but there.
Christopher’s tongue was on his body; the other man pried Justin’s fingers free from the bed and tugged his arm over toward Christopher’s cock. Justin didn’t want to touch him, he pulled his arm away but Christopher’s grip was strong. It was just like always, and Justin was the victim again and he could barely fight and couldn’t make a sound -- what good would it do? It would only make Christopher angry and he’d strike at him with his fists and feet, and Justin would be broken again and again. Just like always. A weak little faggot just like his father had told him he was, just like Christopher knew he was -- why else would Christopher pick him? Weak and silent. He was practically asking for it. He deserved it.
“You like this,” Christopher said. But Justin didn’t. He hated it. He hated being weak, he hated being quiet, but most of all he hated the fear that, if he spoke, the rage and anger would come out of him -- just burst out -- and it would be too much for him to control and it would take over and then Justin would really be alone. “Come on,” Christopher said, wrapped Justin’s hand around his dick and thrust forward.
Clench your hand, Justin thought. Clench your hand, bite him, scratch him, claw at him. The thoughts were circling through his head but he couldn’t move. He was working so hard to keep his rage back what would happen if he unleashed it? It was too big. He would hurt someone. He wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Christopher gripped Justin’s thighs and pushed at them. “Come on,” Christopher said. Justin couldn’t move his legs. “Open them,” Christopher said. But Justin couldn’t move them. Who could he hurt? It was just him and Christopher alone in this room. Him or me, Justin thought. He was sick and tired of it being him. “Fucking open your legs, Taylor,” Christopher hissed.
“No,” Justin said.
...............................
“Brian,” Paul gripped Brian’s arm but Brian pulled it away.
“I’m not leaving. Get out of my way,” Brian said.
“Brian, I’m going to have no choice but to sedate you if you don’t listen to me,” Paul said.
“I’m not leaving!” Brian yelled, his voice echoing in the hall.
.................................
“What?” Christopher asked, his face suddenly very close to Justin’s.
“No,” Justin said. “I won’t.” Christopher’s smile was as terrifying as the rest of him. Justin didn’t know what he had gotten himself into but either way it had to stop.
Christopher’s hands were around his throat in a flash and Justin was swamped in memory. Suddenly it wasn’t Christopher, but the man -- the man who had choked him before --- his father. His own father. And just like then, he was alone and he couldn’t speak -- didn’t have the air to speak. He could barely fight. Thoughts flickered through his head -- this could be it -- this could be a way out. This could put an end to it. But Justin wasn’t through, was he? He didn’t want to be through. Except what was he holding on for? It would all go away, everything would be peaceful.
Justin’s eyes were watering, he flapped a hand at Christopher but the man barely even flinched. It was useless, he was overpowered; once again, he’d been subdued -- except he didn’t feel subdued. His anger, his fear, his panic, his pain was roiling in the pit of his stomach. He was strung tightly like a bow.
“I’m not leaving!” and the words rang through his head. Everything clicked into place. He wasn’t done. He wasn’t subdued. He would never be subdued.
Justin bucked hard, throwing Christopher back. The man still kneeled over him, but had to move his hands away from Justin’s throat to grab hold of the bed in order to prevent himself from falling off. Breath flooded into Justin’s lungs and suddenly the shout he had heard, had thought he had imagined, made sense in his mind. Not alone. Not at all. This week was different.
“Get off me!” Justin screamed with all he was worth. He kicked and screamed until Christopher toppled off the bed. “Don’t touch me!”
............................
Brian pushed passed the nurses at the first shout, but they weren’t far behind him. By the time the second shout rang through the halls, Brian knew they’d finally processed what they had been hearing and were no longer chasing him but following. Confident they had the same goal in mind, Brian turned the handle to the marigold room, only to find it locked. He pounded uselessly at it for a moment before Arlene pushed him to the side and opened the door with her key.
Justin was a wild thing; Brian had never seen him like that before. Christopher could barely keep the younger man off him, and Justin was screaming and beating his fists against his attacker’s body. He was naked, there were claw marks on his chest and bruising at his throat, and Justin didn’t seem to hear when Paul and Arlene told him that it was all right, to relax, that he was safe.
“Justin,” Brian said. But Justin clawed at Christopher’s cheek, leaving a path of nail marks, cutting into the skin. Justin was sobbing and screaming, telling Christopher to stop, but Christopher was barely doing anything, trying futilely to hold the furious blond away.
“We’ll have to sedate him,” Paul said.
“Fuck that,” Brian said, he stepped forward before the nurses could, pulled the sheet from the small bed and threw it over Justin’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around Justin. Justin still struggled, even as Brian pulled him off of Christopher and into his lap on the floor. He stopped screaming, tucked his head under Brian’s chin, and struck out one more time with his foot, kicking a groaning Christopher in the side of the head. “I’m here,” Brian whispered so only Justin could hear. “I’m here, and you’re safe now. You’re safe now.”
Brian didn’t see it happen, he was focussing only on calming Justin and keeping him safe. Around them, Arlene called for help and doctors came to take Christopher away and tend to his wounds. Lindsay came in, but left Brian and Justin to themselves when she saw them, questioning Paul and Arlene instead. Police were called. Patients who had been fast asleep in solitary grew curious and left their rooms and the nurses had to calm them down and override their locking system because there was enough chaos without them. And Brian just held Justin close, his head tucked into the side of Justin’s neck and tried to convince himself that it was really over.
|<< [END CHAPTER] >>|
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