Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 58
The fact that Dr. Love is pledging any loyalty to me after what we did to him and Felix is perplexing. Alright, I did most of it. Except the cum-lube. He must not know about that…
Still, his willingness to forgive brings warmth and fuzzies to my chest that I’m quite unfamiliar with.
Is this… friendship? Bollocks, I haven’t felt it, real, in so long…
I’m much more familiar with obsessive infatuation and blinding wrath… And what I feel for Byron.
“As far as anyone is concerned, I killed Hassan and Johansson and got free,” Lem says matter-of-factly. “The Ivory knows I’ve wanted them dead. It’s more than believable.”
Byron chews on his lower lip. “So… What happens now?”
Lem loses a bit of his visible confidence. But then I recall…
“Here.” I pull out the cellphone and hand it to Lem. “I found it outside,” I explain, mostly to Byron, because he’s giving me that look again… The one that says, I have no idea who you are or what you’re hiding. “You’ll need it more than me.”
Lem takes the phone, nodding. “I’m going to explore the tombs… See where they lead. Maybe try to get ahold of someone… But I promise, I’m not leaving until we can all get out.”
Byron’s lashes flutter. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll be fine. Just watch out for yourselves,” Lem hums, rather gallantly. Protective of us. “Keep your eyes open. Things are going to get much worse before they have even a prayer of getting better.”
“This is headed for disaster…” The voice grates inside my skull. “You know that, right?” My eyes flit about in glaring frustration at my so-called friend I can’t see, because he’s just such an unsupportive wanker sometimes. “Keep giving me that look, mate, but you know I have your best interests at heart. No one else’s. You’re not meant to be part of the pack. You’re a lone wolf.”
“That makes no sense,” I growl under my breath, rubbing my eyes.
When I look up, Byron and Lemuel are gawking at me. They exchange glances, and my spine stiffens in irritation. It reminds me of how people used to look at me in Riverwoods. Like I’m an unbridled nutter.
“Trev… let’s go get some rest,” Byron patronizes me with that appeasing tone.
“Fine,” I grunt, stalking off, not waiting for either of them to say another word.
I take the stairs two at a time from the basement, rushing across and up to our floor, all the while kicking myself. Hating myself for not knowing how to do this. How to be with someone.
I know how to be alone. How to be an addict. How to seek revenge… And most of all, I know how to demolish good things and leave them in rubble. It’s what I did to Alice…
It’s what I’m good at.
I’d love to give Byron more of me. Fuck it… All of me. I want him to have me in full, so that I can have him in full. But I have this nagging bloody voice in my head that spouts nothing but doubt.
“Blame me all you want, but I know what’s best for you…” Leo grumbles.
I whip in his direction. “For me! Me, Leo! It’s just me, because you don’t exist! You are me, and you’re holding me down, suffocating me because you’re afraid!”
He looks hurt, like I’ve just stabbed him with one of those ninjatos on his back.
“You’re nothing but fear, and I hate it,” I whine breathlessly. “That’s why you disappear every time I need you… Because you’re bloody terrified. I am… and I don’t want to be anymore. I want to try. Can’t I try, at least??”
“Trevel, Jesus…” Byron’s voice startles me, and I jump, spinning to face him with wide eyes. “What’s going on?? Who are you talking to??”
I stare at him, jaw slack. I assume Leo’s gone, but this time, when I peer left, he’s still there. He looks just as afraid as me.
He’s afraid… Not me.
Leave the fear with him.
“Tell me what’s going on, Trevel,” he whispers, begging me. “Please tell me something, violet eyes, or we can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” He’s in visible pain. I can tell he doesn’t want to end this. But he will… If I don’t give him something.
I have to… step out of the shadows.
I release a slow breath. “Okay. I’ll t-tell you… All the things.”
Byron nods and whispers, “I promise, I can handle it.”
My lips twitch, a soft chuckle fleeing my lips.
Fuckin’ hell, he’s perfect. Such a hard shell around so much mushy sweetheart, I swear. Like Alice.
Wandering over to the couch, I take a seat and pat the cushion next to me. Byron joins me, nestling up by my side. Facing me. Giving me his full attention. I’m nervous, but also amazed by how much he wants this.
Is this all he’s needed the whole time? Just… more? More of me?
I peer at Leo, and for the first time, he’s not warning me against what I’m about to do. He’s just watching me.
Be strong, be fearless, be kind.
Be Leonardo.
“I told you I left London when I was young because my parents were shit,” I begin. Byron nods subtly. “Well, I didn’t tell you how awful they truly were. My father was abusive… In just about every way one can be. He used to beat me, degraded me… The worst sorts of things, like cutting my hair uneven, making me drink his bottle of lager with cigarette butts in it. He’d whip me with things, force-feed me foods he knew I hated, put a cockroach in my bed. Real mean, mind-fuck type shit. And then… Well, I was barely eight years old by the time he started… touching me.”
I pause to swallow, remembering to breathe through it; the pain and rage that’s still fucking there, lodged in my chest cavity like a tumor that can’t be removed.
Byron’s eyes are wide, and I think he might move away… But he doesn’t. He moves in closer, taking my hand in his, threading our fingers. I hear him in my mind, like all those times in the showers…
Go on, violet eyes. I’m listening.
“My mother didn’t care,” I croak. “She did nothing to stop it. In fact, I think she enjoyed it, for some reason I’ve never been able to figure out.”
I’m staring into Byron’s eyes, but my gaze is far away. Only for a moment, and I pull myself back.
“One day, I’d had enough. I just couldn’t… bear it for one more day. Instead of going to school, I went into the city and stayed there. I began pickpocketing and stealing to get by, but I knew the longer I stayed in London, the more likely they’d somehow get me back. My plan was to save up enough to take the train to Berlin, but I wound up meeting a man who offered to bring me to America. I’d always wanted to come here because it seemed so exciting on television… So I agreed to let him photograph me in exchange for him buying me a plane ticket and pretending to be my uncle on the flight to New York.”
“Jesus…” Byron whispers, appearing appalled.
I have to chuckle because this is nowhere near the worst part. “Anyway, there I was… Twelve years old in the Big Apple. Naturally, I had no money, no friends, no family. No place to go. So I did what I had to… I preferred stealing, and I’d become rather good at it. But it was never enough. Everything was so bloody expensive, and I was too young to get an apartment or even a hotel on my own. That’s actually how it started… I’m sure you can… guess.” I gulp.
“Prostitution?” he mutters after a beat, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
“I wasn’t even thirteen yet… But you know some people liked that. Okay, some men. They were all men, at least until I turned about fifteen. And I have to say, it severely stunted my sexuality. I’d known for years I liked both girls and boys, but it was impossible for me to think of men in a way that wasn’t rough and aggressive, and just… too painful.”
I barely even notice how hard Byron is squeezing my hand until it starts to go numb. But I like it. It’s… comforting.
“I’m not sure why this is still the hard part…” My voice shakes, and I clear my throat. “I’m not ashamed. I did what I had to… To survive. But I hated it. There’s no shame in sex work, but I was a child. I wasn’t supposed to be doing those things, and the men, my John’s… they knew that. I carried a lot of rage because of it… I think I still do. For my parents mostly, because my being out there was their fault. And for the adults who took advantage of me and the other kids. I still hate feeling helpless… Hence, the drug use.”
Byron’s brows lift in surprise, because he didn’t know about my substance abuse issues. He didn’t know about anything…
But the look he’s giving me is so utterly supportive. He tilts his head, eyes gleaming as if to say, “It’s alright. You can say anything you want. I won’t judge you.”
Interestingly enough, it reminds me of the first time I told this story to Dr. Love.
“I began drinking and using hard drugs almost right away,” I rasp. “I needed something to numb the pain and make it all… easier. Heroin definitely did that.”
“Oh, baby…” Byron reaches out to brush my hair back with his fingers. “How long has it been?”
“Since I arrived at Alabaster Pen, so a few months?” I tell him.
“That’s great, Trev. Really. I can’t imagine it’s easy…”
I’m dying over how sweet and supportive he is.
“No, it’s not,” I sigh. “Honestly, if I had access to drugs right now, I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t be doing them.” Pausing, I recall something while Byron plays with my fingers. “I was going to drink… The Ivory has a bar downstairs. But I stopped myself because it won’t… help. I know that now. But with the other stuff… I don’t know, self-medicating was a distraction. And when I was using, I stopped caring and started feeling… bad. Because that’s what I was, you know?”
Byron simply nods. He’s not trying to help. He’s just listening, and it’s amazing.
I take a deep breath, glancing at Leo. He looks sad… Because he knows what’s next. “So I was living and working on the streets, mostly alone. I’d been recruited a few times by a few groups, but they couldn’t deal with me. I was too much of a wild card, with the drugs and the mental health issues… It wasn’t worth it for them. But I didn’t mind. Honestly, I preferred going it alone. I mean, I enjoyed being around other kids my age, but it just made me sad, seeing them mistreated…”
“You were more concerned with them?” Byron’s lips twist. “Baby, you were being mistreated too…”
I shrug and bite my lip. “For me, it was inevitable. I’d been born into pain.”
His amusement falls away, and he looks devastated for me. I rub my eyes.
“Either way, it was fine, until… that night. Until… them.”
“Who’s them?” Byron asks nervously.
“I was on my way to a mate’s house… This lad I knew from Morningside,” I recount, unable to stop from squirming already in discomfort. “I’d just been with one of my regulars who was nice, and he paid well, so I remember I was chuffed because I had a place to stay for the weekend and enough cash that I could take a break for at least a few days. I was walking, cutting through the park ’cause it was faster… That’s when I ran into them.
“There were four of them. I knew one bloke… Not well, but I’d seen him around. He was a businessman. A Wall Street tosser who liked to bring underage boys up to his penthouse on Fifth. He was what we’d call a Red, meaning a John to watch out for because he was a freak known to get rough. Anyway, it was him and three other Wall Street-looking pricks, and as soon as they spotted me, it was like a game… Right away. A bloody hunt.”
My voice goes softer in an instant. “That part of the park was empty, so right away, I was uneasy. I tried to avoid them, but the more I did, the more they came after me. The kick of it, you know?”
I pause and stare, still able to see this all so vividly, as if it just happened moments ago…
Darkness, trees lining long paths that seemed to go on for miles… No escape.
The clap of their dress shoes on the pavement.
Their laughter.
On my knees, cold wetness seeping into the denim of my jeans. My face being smashed into the grass…
Rough hands grabbing at me forcefully. Tears and snot running down my face.
The searing hot pain, and the violent smacking of their hips against my backside…
One… after another… after another.
Sniffling, I blink hard. “I realized rather quickly that fighting was pointless. There were four of them, and they were bigger and stronger than barely-sixteen-year-old me. So… yea. That was that. They raped me, all four of them. It only lasted, like, twenty minutes, but it felt like days.” I inhale deep, letting it out slowly. “When they were done, they left me there… Bruised and bleeding in the dirt. They left me for dead.”
I feel hollow inside as my eyes slink up to Byron’s. They’re glistening. And a lone tear rolls down his cheek.
He wipes it away quickly, but I’m thrown off for a moment.
That’s not like Dr. Love…
I’ve never seen that type of reaction before.
“Trev…” His voice is hoarse, full lips parted and sort of quivering. He bites down on the bottom one.
It’s such an adorable little pout, I find myself wanting to comfort him.
“I’m sure they thought I was dead.” I continue quietly. Still struck by this man… “Or as good as. But I wasn’t. Because you can’t kill something that’s already dead inside.” Reaching out, I brush my thumb over that succulent lip. “I got up, dragged myself, beaten and bloody, to my mate’s house… And that was when I began planning it. My revenge.”
“We did,” Leo croaks.
“I spent the next few weeks tracking them down, following and studying them. I waited for the right time, which was difficult, since I so badly wanted to attack them any time I saw their pig faces, going about their lives like everything was fine. Like it was all normal… As if my body, my life, my existence meant nothing.”
In a flash, my jaw is tight, heart rate picking up to a steady thump.
I still have fury in me. Whether they’ve been dealt with or not, I don’t believe it’ll ever go away.
“I harnessed every bit of patience I had, and I waited until the perfect moment to strike. And it paid off.” My lips twitch. “I killed all four of them, one by one—within a span of three days? If I’m not mistaken… Lyle Ferguson, Connor Wainscott, John Beckten Jr., and Vincenzo Puglisi. Those were their names, but I just call them one-through-four. And now they’re dead.”
Byron is gawking. I don’t think he’s even breathing. He looks shocked—obviously enraged on my behalf, only slightly horrified—but relieved and impressed all the same.
I’m trying to imagine how Alice might have reacted to hearing all this… I don’t mean to always be comparing them, but it just happens. They’re my only two relationships. For what it’s worth, I know Byron does the same with me and Michelangelo—and maybe Ren too, but that’s a whole other thing. I can’t fault him for it while I’m doing the same thing. It’s just a part of our shared baggage, I suppose.
Sighing, I feel like I’ve been talking forever. And we’re still not done. “Afterward, I didn’t go into hiding… I felt prison was a small price to pay for my well-deserved revenge. I was eventually arrested, held as a minor while they built a case. Ultimately, there was only enough evidence to convict me of two murders, so I spent two years in a juvenile detention center. After I turned eighteen, I was sent to a psychiatric facility in Connecticut. If I’d done life… It still would’ve been worth it. I mean, I’ve grappled with feeling like I let them off too easily…”
“I don’t know…” Byron hums. “Seems to me, you made them pay. With interest.”
I chuckle, and he smirks.
Lifting his hand, I run my lips over his knuckles. “I was only in the Connecticut facility for a few months before they moved me down to Atlanta, to a place called Riverwoods. And that’s where I met Dr. Love.”
Saying his name now, as a part of my story, after everything we’ve been through… It floods me with emotions. But they’re not what they used to be.
The feelings I had for him weren’t real; I see that now. It was a crush on someone who helped me when nobody else did, and who saw me as something more than a deeply troubled and severely scarred individual.
Because we all know Dr. Love appreciates emotional damage.
“Trev… This is insane,” Byron breathes. “It might be the craziest story I’ve ever heard. I mean, damn… What am I doing writing my shit?? You should write a book! Your story makes mine seem like an episode of Teletubbies.”
I snort, resting my head on his shoulder, because reliving all of this is making me sleepy. “It’s not a competition, baby. We both have our stories, and they’re both valid.”
“Did Dr. Love teach you that?” he teases, and I play-elbow him.
“So…. yea. Riverwoods. I was there for about two years before I was granted early release, which Dr. Love advocated for, by the way. He was the one who testified to the parole board that I was fit to rejoin society, so long as I continued outpatient treatment with him…” I snicker.
“What?” he asks. “You think he was wrong?”
“I think he thinks he was wrong.” I chuckle. “Or rather, he knew the only way to test my monster was to get me out of captivity. And that’s exactly what he did.”
I can feel Byron’s pulse picking up. “Do you think you belong in prison?”
I tilt my face. “I think there are certainly worse people out there…”
“That’s not an answer,” he whispers, and his tone, while he’s touching me and I can smell him… It zaps me in the balls.
“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see, hm?” I purr. Byron bites his lip. “Does it frighten you…?”
He takes my face in his hands. “You did what you had to do, baby. I’d say that’s very Raphael of you.”
A wide grin captures my lips. His mouth inches over mine, and I’m longing to end this and just wrap myself around his big, strong body. But I force myself back, because I can’t always jump into the physical… That’s not what he wants.
