A red tainted Silence (59 page)

“I put your Jell-O in the freezer. It should be ready soon.” I grimaced. “Oh, boy. Can’t I have some steak?”

He wrinkled his nose. “No, you can’t. Now, come on. I’ll lay clean pajamas out for you.”

“Thanks, dear.” He started to leave, but I grabbed his hand. “Wait.”

“What?” he said, smiling at me. I licked my lips, feeling a sudden urge to hold him. I pulled him to me and did so. I shuddered, a wave of pure gratefulness sweeping through me as his hands caressed my bare back, stroked my hair.

“Brandon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull. What’s wrong?”

I pulled back, biting my lip as I looked down at my lover, my best friend, my life. “I’m just going to miss you.”

“I’ll be right in the next room.”

“That’s too far.”

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Concern etched his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I -- I’m sorry.” A tear slid down my cheek. I wiped at it, surprised. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

He cradled my face with his hands and looked up at me, his face still flushed with passion, his eyes so incredibly blue. “Tell me what’s on your mind. Remember what the doc said.”

“I know. It’s just that ... You have to promise me something.”

“Promise you what?”

“If ... if anything happens to me in surgery --” He reared back as if I’d slapped him. “No! Nothing’s going to happen to you --”

“Listen to me!” He stopped, shock widening his eyes. I stroked his face, kissed his cheek. “No, no, just listen. When I thought you were dead, Nicholas ...” I closed my eyes, but forced myself to go on. I hadn’t planned on telling him this, but it was important. He had to know. He had to know so he wouldn’t do what I’d nearly done, because the thought of him doing what I’d nearly done about undid me.

“Brandon, you’re scaring me.”

“I don’t mean to. I’m sorry. I have to tell you, though. When I thought you were dead ... I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to live anymore. I didn’t get to say goodbye. Just one last goodbye. I nearly killed myself, because of that.” A sob tore from his throat. He flung himself into my arms, and I held him tight.

“Why? Why would you do that?” he asked. “Why would you even think about killing yourself? Don’t you remember our song? What it said? Things are never that bad.” I stroked his hair back, leaned my cheek against his. “I know. I just didn’t have the strength I have now, Nick. The strength you give me. I had nothing. Nothing left to live with. I want you to promise me you won’t think that. That you won’t ever think you have nothing to live for, if something happens to me. Do you understand?” He pulled back. “What stopped you?”

I smiled sadly at him and reached out to touch my earring that he still wore. We hadn’t had a chance to replace it yet. “I really don’t know. Something did, a strange feeling, maybe a guardian angel. Maybe you singing that damn song in my head. Who knows? Just long enough for a stranger to tell me that you’d been revived in the helicopter and had gotten through surgery.”

I grimaced, remembering the hours I’d thought him dead, the deadly calm I’d felt as I plotted my suicide. If I hadn’t been in the hospital myself, with half a dozen nurses around me, watching me, I would’ve found a way. I remembered thinking, over and over again, If I’d only had one last goodbye ...

“How long did you think --”

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“Two hours after we got to the hospital, maybe three.” I laughed bitterly. “They forgot to tell me. Took you to surgery, sent me to a separate room. I didn’t know. I really thought you were dead.”

“Brandon, no, you never told me.”

“I know. But promise me, Nicholas. If anything happens to me, go on. Make me proud.

I am proud of you, but there’s so much more you can do.”

“I want to do it with you,” he said, his face set and stubborn.

I pulled him closer and kissed him. “I know you do. And I want to with you, too. Just promise me.”

“I -- I promise.”

A wave of relief filled me. “Good. Now I want that shower. Okay?” He nodded, then kissed me once again. And again. And a few more times, until we were both laughing, all the sorrows I’d managed to bring up forgotten for a while.

Finally he left me. I turned on the shower and stood beneath the hot, stinging spray. It felt so good. I felt good. I stood under it for a good fifteen minutes before finally turning it off. Great water heater.

As I reached for a towel, I realized I heard something. Voices. I stilled, puzzled.

Wrapping my towel around my waist, I left the bathroom, stopping as I saw Katie standing facing the plasma, a look of horror on her face.

“Katie, what is it?”

She turned to me, her eyes wide, distraught. I looked up at the plasma, frowning as I saw ...

I saw myself.

On a bed. A bed I didn’t recognize, yet in my heart knew well.

Naked.

My gut clenched.

Terror in my eyes.

“Put this on him.”

I tasted blood, covering my mouth with my hand as I stared at the screen, at the boy that I knew ...

A room, in a house with a blue door. A blue door. A blue door. Then, nothing, darkness -- a blindfold. Put this on him. They’d put on a blindfold.

They.

More than one, they’d raped me, again and again, more than once. And not just one day. All the time. They did it again and again.

And I’d let them.

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“What would you be willing to do to keep your lover boy safe?”

“Brandon?” Katie’s voice, hollow, far away.

“What would you be willing to do to keep your lover boy safe?” Bile mixed with blood. I stumbled back, unable to tear my eyes away, unable to stop watching me, that was me, me -- Hot moisture on my hand, gagging me.

“What would you be willing to do to keep your lover boy safe?”

“Me. I’m willing to give you me.”

“Damn smart, aren’t you, boy? How’d you like to take up jogging?” A room, in a house with a blue door. A blue door.

A strangled cry escaped me.

“Brandon! Oh, my God!”

Hands clawed at me, at my chest, stomach. Pain, welcome pain as I watched the blindfolded boy take it, not once, but twice, and then another --

Another figure crossed the screen. Silent. Never said a word. The one the blindfold was meant to hide ...

The blue door.

I sank to my knees as a wail filled the room. Me, that was me.

I folded over, no longer able to stop it. The blood came and the pain came and my eyes saw nothing but red ... and him. Him.

Silent. Never said a word.

“Nicholas! Oh, my God. Nicholas!” Katie screamed and then ...

Red-tainted silence.

351

“I don’t think it’s ready yet, Nicholas,” Margaret said. She put the Pyrex bowl on the counter.

“I know, but Brandon’s going to want it soon,” I said, poking at the Jell-O. Dammit, darn stuff was still too liquidy. “I should’ve made some this morning,” I said with a pout.

Margaret patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. He can have the orange.

There’s enough of it left still. You’d better just put this in the refrigerator lest it turn into a popsicle.”

I sighed and did as Brandon’s mom said. I closed the fridge and returned to my post, sitting on the stool Jeff had fetched for me. I still couldn’t stand for very long. Even sitting a long time was hard, though since I couldn’t lie around all day, I just lived with the pain. I hoped it would get better -- it had to -- but sometimes I wondered. The doc had warned me I might not ever get all the way back to my previous health, but Brandon didn’t know that. No one did.

I didn’t care, really. So what if I couldn’t prance around anymore? I was thirty-one now, not a teenager anymore. As long as I had Brandon, nothing else mattered.

“Hurry up, Nicholas. I’m almost ready to put those in.” I grinned at Brandon’s mom. “Yes, Mom. Sorry.”

She laughed, but pointed at the bowl awaiting my attention. I grabbed a carrot and dove into my chore with relish, singing happily beneath my breath.

And I was happy. My lover was doing better. He’d just fucked my brains out. His family and our friends were here, and we were safe. We were going to get him through the 352

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surgery and through the next few weeks, and all his worries about ... I refused to think about it.

No, no, he was going to be fine, and then we could put all the bad crap behind us, and he and I could start our real life together. For the first time since we’d met, we could truly be together.

I couldn’t believe it sometimes, had to pinch myself to really grasp what had happened between me and Brandon. That I had him back. This time it was for real. Once he was okay, the fantasies that had sustained me during all those long weeks of hell would come true.

I’d been right all along, all those years he’d held me at arm’s length. He loved me. And, boy, had he proven it to me just minutes ago.

Margaret hadn’t said a word about my quick return from our “nap,” just grinned, patted me on the cheek, and handed me the bowl of veggies and a knife.

I love Brandon’s mom. And she loves me. She’s an incredibly beautiful person, and I am so thankful for her. She’d been there for me from the beginning. From that awful-beautiful day we stood outside Brandon’s car, me scared to death and hurting like hell and holding tight to him. I’d loved him so much when he stood up to his dad, wrapped my arm around his waist like he had, and let me give him strength.

I like to think my own mom and dad would’ve accepted Brandon, if they had lived.

It had taken me some time after Brandon and I got together before I could tell him exactly what had happened to my parents. It wasn’t until Karen and I were officially divorced, actually. He’d never asked, just knew that they had moved away when I was in high school my senior year, and I refused to go. I was about to graduate, had a boyfriend I thought I loved, and a dream part in the school play. And I had Karen, pregnant and desperate. My dad’s job took him on the road a lot, and he and Mom decided to move to Arizona, as it was centrally located to his route. But about three weeks after they got there, the new house they were in developed a carbon monoxide leak. Undetected.

They were found several days later, having died in their sleep.

They would’ve loved Brandon. Just like his mom loves me.

How Brandon’s dad could be such a bastard to him, though, I didn’t understand. I glanced at where he sat reading a paper at the kitchen table, and wondered yet again what he and Brandon had talked about. I’d have to drag it out of my lover later, but drag it out I would.

Jon entered the kitchen, sidled up to me, and snatched a carrot out of the neat pile I’d made. “Hey!” I said, slapping at him. “Out of my veggies, thief.” He laughed, dodging away from me. “Missed me!”

I swatted at him and he laughed, coming back up behind me to look over my shoulder as I continued cutting carrots. He placed his hands on my shoulders and snuffled my neck.

“Mm, sex,” he murmured into my ear.

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I grinned, pausing in my cutting. “Mm, right. Sure is.”

“Finally let my little brother out of his straight jacket, eh?”

“For a minute or two.” Images of Brandon behind me, looking at the mirror as he plunged into me, made my neck heat. Oh, yeah. I could still feel him, too -- deep inside, where he belonged.

“Little Willy had some fun, then. Good.”

“Jon!” I said with a laugh, looking askance at Margaret and bumping against him with my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Mom’s used to me.” Jon wrapped his arms around me, trapping me, chuckling into my ear. I glanced at Margaret, but she rolled her eyes, always so tolerant, and opened the oven to put some rolls in. I wondered what Jon’s dad thought of us messing around like this, deciding that Jon could stay put if it annoyed his dad. But Mr. Ashwood just sat at the table, his nose in the newspaper. Ignoring us.

Guess that was better than snarling at us.

“Nicholas!”

I looked up from the carrot I was cutting as Amanda burst into the kitchen, her gaze wide as she looked at me cradled in her husband’s arms. “Hey, Mandy, I’m innocent. He’s the one messing with me --”

But she waved me away. “Nicholas, it’s Brandon.” The knife clattered from my hand as the sounds of shouting filled me, pierced me, tore out my heart. I stared at Amanda, saw the blood on her shirt. And understood.

No ...

I ran through the house, Jon on my heels. My side hurt like hell and I didn’t give a fuck. Brandon.

“Let me through,” I demanded as I blindly pushed my way into the bedroom.

I stumbled. Someone caught me, held me as I stared down at Brandon lying on the floor. Katie held his head to the side. Brandon, wearing nothing but a towel, which she futilely held over his nakedness, his hair damp from his shower, sprinkles of water still on his shoulders. The scent of his shampoo mixed with blood and ... and oh, God, he’d thrown up blood. The stench smelled obscene to me as my head whirled with the assault on my emotions and senses and the scene before me emblazoned itself into my mind.

Bleeding from his mouth.

His body shaking, convulsing, his eyes closed.

Blood coming from his mouth.

Someone threw a blanket over him, covering him, wrapping him tight. Mutt.

I stared down at him, unable to move, my mind screaming, No! No! No! Not now, this can’t be, we just made love, we just talked, we just held each other. I just promised him ... no!

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“We’ve called 911. They’re sending an air ambulance.”

“Brandon, can you hear me?” Nurse Goodall. She’s here. It’ll be all right now she’s here.

“It’s freezing in here. The door’s open. Shut it, dammit!”

“Turn off that fucking camera!”

“No! Don’t touch anything!” Adam. He was right. Don’t touch it, don’t touch anything, don’t touch Brandon --

Margaret entered behind me. “Oh, my God, Brandon!” A strangled cry from Brandon’s dad.