Why the Straight One? - Chapter 57: Chapter 57

A soft murmur of voices drifted through the open balcony doors. I think it was that that woke me. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in from the open balcony doors. I started in surprise at the sound of someone moving, and noticed Elliot sitting on a chair next to my bed. His head was bent, buried in his hands that rested on the mattress.
"Elliot?" We had just come home yesterday, the trip being extremely exhausting, all I had done was sleep since we arrived. I still couldn't believe I was actually seeing Elliot.
"Alex, did I wake you?" His voice was scratchy, probably from lack of use. I wondered how long he had been sitting there waiting for me to wake up.
"No, dear. I've slept plenty. It must have just been time for me to wake up." He inclined his head towards me at the term of endearment.
"I've been waiting for you." I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes for the brief moment that he looked up at me. All I saw was a tiredness decades too old for him, and pain so extreme, it poured out of his eyes from his very soul.
He was thinner than when I first met him. At least fifteen pounds, probably more, and it was most noticeable in his face. Pale, too pale, the kind that comes from exhaustion and not from lack of sun. His lack of color only made the dark circles beneath his eyes stand out more prominently. I wondered when he last got a full night of sleep.
"How are you?" I asked as gently as I could. Somehow I felt I could break him with just my voice.
"They said you...you almost died." He was looking at my stomach now, trying to see the injury that almost taken my life.
"It was a close shave, but I made it. I think it's mostly because of Thomas that I'm here today." He glanced up at me, then back down at my stomach.
"And you'll be okay? You're recovering?" I lifted up my shirt so he could see the clean white bandages that wrapped around my stomach.
"See? Apparently the scar tissue is doing its job. It's hasn't bled in a few days. I'm definitely recovering."
I smiled at him, but he kept looking down at my stomach. He reached out with his hand, close enough to touch where the knife had gone in, but then pulled back quickly, his hand clenching into a fist and dropping to his side.
"I'm sorry, Alex." His voice was low and bitter, his profile hard and set as he continued to stare down at my injury.
I let my shirt drop back down, looking up at him in concern.
"Sorry? Sorry for what?" What did he have to apologize for?
"For this." He gestured towards my stomach, every line of his body slumping in defeat.
"Like I told Thomas, it's not your fault unless you did this or told the person to do it to me. So, unless you planned my murder, I won't except your apology." I didn't know what state his mind was in, but I knew I had to keep things light. Especially if he was blaming himself for things like this.
The murmur of voices had gotten slightly louder, and I could make out one of them as being Thomas'. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make me smile.
"They're talking about me." Elliot shot an angry glance towards the balcony doors.
"Who is?"
"All of them. Thomas, Raymond, the doctors...Alan. They are all talking about all the shit they think I've been through. Talking about how fucked up I am."
His sudden change in tone, and his language surprised me, and I think he could tell.
"They are just trying to figure out the best way to deal with me. Probably want me off their hands as soon as they can."
"They are probably trying to get you a divorce, and find the best way to care for you, actually." He looked surprised that I spoke back to him the way he did. I wanted to walk about him on eggshells like I'm sure everyone else was, but if he started belonging lies about his brothers now, who knows what harm that could cause later on.
"Do you want to talk about any of it?" I asked him, much gentler, and he stepped back from the bed, shaking his head quickly.
"That's what they all want. The doctors pick and prod at me asking me to explain my scars. Raymond looks at me with so much pity it's disgusting, and Thomas tries to act like he understands. And they all keep asking me to talk about it.
Alex, I...I can't." Now his eyes filled with tears, the anger in his eyes slowly fading, replaced by the the broken emptiness that was almost worse. "Even just hearing his name..." He stumbled, sitting down heavily on the edge of my bed. I winced in pain, but stayed silent.
"It's too much. Too soon. I can't...don't make me..." He dropped his head into his hands, clutching his hair tightly.
"Hey, look at me." I tried to reach out to him, but he was too far down on the bed, and I couldn't even sit up yet. He turned his head towards me, and I smiled at him softly.
"Everyone here only wants what's best for you, and no one is going to make you do anything that you don't want to do. No one is going to force you to do anything ever again."
His eyes filled with tears, and I wanted desperately to hold him tight and never let him go. To try and piece back together the parts of him that had been shattered beyond repair. For all his height, he looked so small sitting there on the edge of the bed. How could anyone ever have hurt?
"I'm so tired, Alex." He confessed, and he looked tired. Tired in ways that not even sleep could mend. Tired of living, perhaps. Tired of pain.
"They all tell me to sleep, but they don't understand. They think I don't want to or something. Fuck, I want to sleep so bad. A real nights sleep. Not an hour or two between nightmares."
"Sleep here then." I was trying so hard to hold back my tears. What good would it do him if I broke down right now? He probably wouldn't even want that kind of pity.
"It's no use. I can't...I'm so scared." He didn't need to say what he was scared of.
"No one can hurt you here. I'll be right here next to you. Lord knows I'm not going anywhere."
He looked almost convinced, and slowly scooted further up the bed. He hesitated before laying down, looking around him quickly. Then he lowered his body, back facing me, which I found odd at first. I would have thought he would want to keep an eye on whoever else was in the bed with him after what he had been through. Maybe...maybe he trusted me enough to not need to see what I was doing while he slept.
It was a long time before I saw his body slowly start to relax. Every sound made him sit up slightly and look around. It was hard to watch. The hunted look in his eyes when he was startled by a sound. It wasn't natural. No one should be that afraid to close their eyes.
When all I heard was his steady breathing, I tried to tune into the voices on the balcony. Thomas has been talking to whoever else was out their this whole time. As I strained my ears to catch any word or phrase, I recognized the other voice as Raymond's.
They must have been walking closer, because I could hear Thomas telling Raymond to be quiet. Thomas walked into our room first, from the balcony, and I smiled warmly at him, putting a finger to my mouth to stop him from greeting me. He looked past me to the other side of the bed, and Elliot's body laying curled up a few feet away from me.
"How did you do that?" Raymond whispered, having walked right after Thomas. "I can't get him to even lay down for the life of me, much less close his eyes."
"He's exhausted." I sighed, resisting the urge to run a hand through Elliot's tangled hair.
Raymond's eyes filled with tears as he looked at his little brother, whose face, even in sleep, was lined with pain.
"He didn't deserved this shit. None of this. And we keep finding out about more. What else could that bastard have done to him?"
"Let's let him sleep." Thomas whispered gently, and Raymond nodded, walking towards the door. When he was gone, Thomas turned to me with nothing but sadness in his eyes.
"Raymond just told me everything the doctors told him when they examined Elliot."
He pulled the chair over and sat down next to where I lay, taking my hands in his, and letting out a tired sigh.
"What is it, Thomas? You can tell me. I can handle it." His eyes filled with tears, and I pulled one of my hands out of him, bringing it up to cup his cheek.
He closed his eyes, pressing his face into my hand. Finally, he let out the breath he had been holding.
"How did he? That's the real question. How did he handle any of it?" He looked over at Elliot, who was so deep in sleep he didn't even stir at the sound of our voices.
"Because he is strong. Stronger than he knows, and that's is all we will ever tell him." Thomas nodded his head.
"His limp is because most of the muscles in the thigh and knee of his right leg have been torn at some point in the last four or five months. Torn and return because they never had a chance to mend probably." His nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. "Apparently Jasper can be extremely rough."
I felt the tears slip down the side of my face as I tried to imagine any of what Elliot must have been through. Poor, innocent Elliot.
"He's been malnourished since the day he got there. The weaker he was, the easier it was for Jasper." I chocked back a sob, and Thomas gripped my hand tighter.
"He's been beaten. Over and over again. The doctors can't put a figure on the amount of times. His whole body is battered and most of his scars might never fade."
Surely, this was the worst, wasn't it? What more could there be? But the look in Thomas' eyes was enough for me to know that there was still more to hear.
"The doctors did a full checkup on him as soon as we brought him here, which, Raymond told me, only forced Elliot further into himself. He had to undress, and...they needed evidence for Jasper's trial."
"Pictures?" Thomas nodded, and my heart went out for Elliot. He must have felt so small. So frightened that he would be used again. I sighed, and so did Thomas.
"They showed Raymond the pictures. Some of them...well, they were shocking, to say the least."
"Just tell me, Thomas. Stop trying to break this gently. What did that monster do to him?"
"He whipped him, Alex. He whipped him. His whole back is covered in scars." Tears slipped down his cheeks as he looked at me in bewilderment. "How could he be so cruel? So evil? I don't understand it, Alex."
He leaned forward, burying his face in my neck and trying his best to cry quietly, with Elliot so near. I couldn't stop my tears, even as I tried to comfort Thomas. I looked over at Elliot's back, imagining what it must look like under the shirt he wore.
No wonder he didn't want to talk about it. The horrors Jasper has inflicted upon him were almost unspeakable. I couldn't even imagine if they happened to me.
All this time, I thought that if we could just get Elliot out of that castle, he would be free. But I was slowly starting to become disillusioned. Captivity and freedom had little to do with where the body existed, or if it was walls or open space that surrounded it. No, bondage was deeper than even flesh and blood, and freedom, something that would have to be fought for the rest of his life.