Chapter Twenty
A flood of pain hits me, slamming my senses into overdrive. I want to gasp, but no sound passes my dry, cracked lips.
Why can’t I move?
Shrouded in darkness, only the thump of my heartbeat in my ears tells me I’m not dead, not that I feel reassured. My body feels like I’ve been buried in concrete, every muscle too weak to push against the weight holding me down. My mind slipped through the fog to rouse a little while ago, but my eyelids are still too heavy to lift.
What the hell happened to me?
Using all my focus, I push every drop of my energy into twitching each of my fingers one by one. Satisfied my fingers are in working order, I slowly begin wiggling my toes back and forth to banish the pins and needles, sending tingles up my legs. A shudder rolls through my restricted spine, making me want to groan at the involuntary movement, but no sound passes my lips. Finally, after an eternity of lying in the pitch black of my own panic, I manage to crack my eyelids and blink a few times to focus.
A sea of stars greets me on the other side of my vision, glowing softly in a mix of pale yellow and green. There’s something so familiar about the perfectly pointed shapes—something glaringly obvious lingering on the edge of my mind, but I can’t quite grasp it. A solid weight beside me suddenly shifts, a hand slinking over my chest and heavy breath fanning my ear.
Fuck.
A scenario I’ve seen play out a thousand times before slams into me—a pained noise actually leaving me this time. A hand clasping my mouth, painted lips whispering to ‘shh’ in my ear. A strong feminine fragrance clogs my throat, remnants of smoke and alcohol filling my nostrils as fingers brush across my exposed skin. Those glow-in-the-dark stars are my only anchor to reality, the only constant in this repetitive nightmare.
How am I back here? Did I ever even truly escape, or was it all a dream?
The figure clinging to my side sits upright, flicking on my space-themed night light to assess me. I will my body to move, but I’m stuck, glued to the mattress, and only able to scream in my mind. Soft hands touch my cheeks, the tears slipping from my eyes landing upon delicate fingers.
Please no, not again. I can’t be here again.
My name is being said, but it might as well be miles away, battle cries of useless determination filling my ears as I stare at those damn stars. By the time I’ve counted the five points of each one, this should be over. Sitting upright, the darkened silhouette looms over me until I can no longer count, and I recoil until a sea of dark eyes and scruffy hair catches my attention.
Garrett .
The invisible binds holding me in place snap at the same time my chest bursts with relief, and I lurch upright to grab him. A shot of agony slices across my mid-section, pain blazing a trail through me until I’m slumped back and writhing in discomfort.
“Shit! Stay still, Axe. I’ll be right back.” Garrett’s gone before I can beg him to stay, my outstretched hand desperately grabbing the air as agony of a different kind swallows me whole. He’s barely left the room, and I’m already contemplating jumping up to chase him, not giving a shit about the repercussions.
The small unloved boy in me would do anything for a simple hug, and the broken man I am only wants it from him .
The pain in my side has lessened to an intense throbbing by the time he finally returns, flanked by a monster of a man in a white coat.
What the fuck is happening?
Garrett re-joins me in the bed and presses a kiss to my sweat-covered brow before pulling down the cover to expose me. Revealing me to this stranger. Suddenly, my worst fears take a turn, and I discover a new way for them to torture me. Garrett is tugging up the material covering my torso, presenting me like his prized whore. My eyes begin to swim, vulnerability sending tremors along my skin.
“It’s okay, Axel. Trust me, it’s going to be okay.” I remain as still as possible, trusting his steady gaze. His hands stroke my arms as he makes an effort to block the man from my view. My body jerks as a second pair of hands skates over my ribs, my breathing hitching in suspense.
Count the stars. Each point, and then it’ll be over.
Something sticky is peeled back from my ribs. A bandage maybe. It tears and tugs at my skin, bringing with it a searing pain. Spikes of fear course through my body like tremors, like harsh needles piercing my skin.
“He’s panicking,” the man says from a distance. My head is slow to follow the conversation, separating me from the room I refuse to be in. Not here, not with Garrett holding me down, not with the cool air brushing my exposed skin like long, spindly fingers. I inhale sharply, choking on the phantom scent of expensive perfume. “He’s going to do himself some damage if he doesn’t remain still.”
“Axe, I need you to relax, okay?” Garrett pleads, but how can I? I don’t know this man, but I know what happens in this bed. I know how the pain lingers long after the physical effects are done. How I’ll have to relive it every night, with the new addition of Garrett pinning down my shoulders and sneering in my face. I have to stop this before it gets to that point. I can’t let Garrett become one of the monsters I run from.
“I’m going to have to sedate him.”
“No, please. I’ve only just gotten him back.” Garrett links his fingers in mine, gripping my hand tightly every time I hiss or wince from whatever is being done to me. His eyesight doesn’t flicker from mine the entire time, his undivided attention doing little to warm the coldness sweeping through my limbs. Vaguely, I feel myself shaking from head to toe, a layer of sweat seeping into the bedsheets beneath my back .
“He’ll wake shortly. If he punctures his lung again, he’ll have to go back to theatre.”
I stare at Garrett. I beg him with my eyes, pleading with him to end this. To send this man away and wrap his arms around me, tell me I’m not actually back in this hellhole. But he doesn’t do any of that. With a resigned nod, Garrett ducks his head aside, avoiding my watery gaze.
The sharp scratch of a needle is pushed into the crook of my free arm, a rush of cool liquid filling my veins, which has my muscles tensing. Almost immediately, I can feel the pull of drowsiness starting to drag me under, away from him. Droplets pool in the shell of my ear as tears stream down my face, my vision blurring in my desperation to stay in his warmth.
The pull of unconsciousness is merciless, dragging me back into the void I fought so hard to escape. My limbs feel like lead, but my mind flails, clawing to stay in the moment, to remain tethered to Garrett’s voice and touch. His warmth is the only anchor keeping me from spiraling, and even that’s slipping away with every shallow breath.
“I’ll be right here, Axe,” Garrett whispers, his voice cracking. “I’m not going anywhere.” I try to hold onto those words, let them wrap around me like armor, but the drug is too strong, and soon, the glowing stars above me fade to black.
“-an abundance of krill attracts other visitors to the Peninsula in the summer. Antarctic Minke Whales.”
Garrett’s voice has filtered through the depths of my slumber several times before, but this is the first time I’ve been able to rouse enough to wonder what the fuck he’s talking about. My senses are dulled as if I’m wrapped in thick cotton, but my ears prick just enough.
“They use their pointed heads and short dorsal fins to give them endurance-”
When I open my eyes again, the world is still blurry at the edges. The pain in my side is muted but persistent, a throbbing reminder that I’m alive. The stars on the ceiling glow faintly in the darkness, their soft light casting familiar shapes on the walls. For a moment, I wonder where I am.
Then the smell hits me. Dust, stale air, and the faint lingering trace of my mom’s perfume. She’s embedded into the walls, her shrewd gaze sweeping through every shadow of every room. It’s like being punched in the gut. The memories I’ve spent years trying to bury come rushing back, suffocating me. This house, this room… it’s the last place I ever wanted to be.
A low groan seeps from my achingly raw throat.
“Axel?” Garrett’s voice cuts through the haze. I blink, my gaze shifting to find him reclined next to me on the bed, his expression etched with worry. Fading bruises line his throat, and his eyes are sunken. His hair is disheveled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, as if he hasn’t left my side.
His hand cups my cheek, a relieved smile waiting for me when I manage to open my eyes. The room is a thousand times too bright, the permanent grogginess embedded into my skull magnifying tenfold. Breathing causes discomfort, so I lie perfectly still, trying not to move my limbs. Regardless, each inhale burns the back of my throat.
I want to speak, to tell him I’m okay, or at least lie convincingly enough to ease that pained look in his eyes, but all I manage is a rasping sound. Garrett leans forward, his hand warm and steady as it cups my cheek.
“Don’t try to talk yet,” he murmurs. “You’ve been through hell, Axe. Just… let me take care of you.” He darts away, returning with a cup of water and straw, helping me to slowly sip. I pant around the straw, dropping my head back. Garrett says I’ve been through hell, and that’s exactly how I feel.
The door creaks open, and my body tenses instinctively, the shadows in the hallway sending a chill down my spine. Huxley steps inside, his expression carefully neutral but his eyes sharp as they scan the room. Settling on me, he forces a small smile.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says lightly, although I instinctively know it’s not morning. “How are you feeling?” Hux eases onto the edge of the mattress and picks up my hand. A metallic weight trickles down my forearm; the compass bracelet I’ve been taking care of is still on my wrist .
“Like a sack of shit.” I manage to grumble. Clearing my throat several times, I tip my head back to open up my throat. “Tell me I’m hallucinating and I’m not where I think I am.”
Huxley’s smile drops. Instead of answering me, he releases my hand and shifts to slowly lift me up by the shoulders. Garrett stuffs his pillow behind my back, and I sink back in my new elevated position to look around the room from my childhood.
Yep, I’m really here.
The midnight blue painted walls and solar system project I made in fifth grade hanging by astronaut-themed drawn curtains. My stomach rolls. In all of my nightmares, my focus was on the bed, on what I was subjected to. I’d forgotten how childish the decor was. The safe space of a young boy who felt anything but. Flicking off the TV sitting on the dresser, Garrett mutters under his breath.
“There was nothing I could do.” Despite our company, he snuggles into my side, curling one of his long legs around mine. We’re both wearing black lounge pants.
“Wher-” I clear my throat, “Where are the others?”
“I thought it would be best not to overwhelm you,” Garrett rubs his face into my neck like a feline. “But they’re all here, waiting to see you.” They’re all here. Tears prick my eyes, and I can’t decide if it’s from the comfort of knowing the Souls are nearby or the dread that they’ve walked into my waking nightmare. This house is a poison that taunts your veins and never truly lets you go.
Huxley, who was staring into the distance, working hard to stop his mouth from pressing into a tight line, suddenly stands, seeming to remember something. “I’ll get some soup sent up.” Huxley strides for the door, pulling it gently closed behind him. I shake my head weakly, the thought of food turning my stomach further, but it’s too late. My grunts of protest become too much for my feeble body, leaving me immobile and breathless once again.
“It’s going to be okay,” Garrett breathes, his voice low. His hand finds mine, his grip strong and unwavering. “Whatever you need, Axe. I’m going to be right here.”
Whatever I need. The words rush through my head, the tips of my ears starting to burn. What I need is to forget where I am. To be removed from the pain, distracted from the dull thud of panic within my chest. I need him.
Unashamed, I trail my index finger over Garrett’s T-shirt, tracing the ridges of his abs underneath. His breath catches, but he doesn’t stop me, and that small act of permission feels like an unspoken surrender. The warmth of his body seeps into me, grounding me in a way I desperately need. His gaze doesn’t falter, locked onto mine, steady and intense. We’ve woken up beside each other countless times before, but this moment feels heavier, charged with something I can’t name.
There’s a shift in his expression, an almost imperceptible flicker in his eyes. His lips part, as if to speak, but the words dissolve before they can form. It’s unlike him, this hesitation. Garrett always knows what to say, whether it’s a joke, a taunt, or some line designed to deflect. Now, though, he’s stripped bare, his usual armor gone. And I don’t think he realizes just how exposed he is, how vulnerable he looks sitting there, watching me like I’m something fragile he’s afraid to break.
A faint stirring of awareness pulls at me, the lingering fog in my head giving way to questions. What exactly happened to me? And more importantly, what’s happened to Garrett? This intensity, this quiet between us, feels new. It’s like there’s a weight behind his gaze, layers I’ve never fully peeled back before.
The pain in my body dulls, eclipsed by the quiet electricity between us. To anyone else, Garrett is just a good-looking college guy. His dark hair catches streaks of gold in the right light, his eyes shift between fathomless and mischievous, and his smile can charm or cut depending on his mood. But that’s not what I see.
I see the self-hatred living beneath his flesh. The way his jokes deflect, how his smile is a shield. He craves affection but convinces himself he doesn’t deserve it. Someone who refuses to believe he deserves more than rough sex and empty promises.
My hand stills against his chest, resting over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Garrett,” I whisper, my voice rough and tentative. It’s not a question or a statement. It’s a plea. For what, I’m not even sure. I just know at that moment I need something. His fingers twitch, brushing over my bare chest to still over my heart. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I love you so fucking much, Axe.” He almost whimpers. Like an atomic bomb going off in my head, my ears ring, and I gasp. That’s it. That’s exactly what I needed.
Garrett’s mouth crashes against me before I can say it back, all pretence of gentleness slipping away. It’s a feral, desperate slanting of his lips over mine, hiding the slight tremor underneath. Garrett kisses me as if he won’t survive without it, the hand on my heart clenching. I don’t stop him, twisting my hand into his shirt as much as I can to drag him impossibly closer, despite the sharp ache in my side. The pain is secondary to the way Garrett pours himself into me like he’s been holding it all back for too long.
Leaning over me, his hand presses a touch too hard on my sternum. A gasp is torn from my lips, interrupting our messy kiss. Garrett freezes instantly, relieving all pressure from my body. I keep my hand clenched in his T-shirt, not letting him go far. His forehead rests against mine as he pants, his warm breath mingling with mine.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. His thumb brushes over my cheek, wiping away a bead of sweat. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“Don’t apologize,” I rasp, interrupting him. My grip finally loosens on his shirt, my thumb smoothing over the fabric. “As soon as I’m better, I want you to do that for hours and hours.”
“And I’m going to pull up a chair to watch,” a soft voice cuts through us, alight with laughter. Just inside the door, with her hip popped and a tray in her hands, is Avery. “I thought we agreed to be gentle with him,” she chastises Garrett, but there’s no real venom in it.
“Avery,” I breathe.
“Hey handsome.” Her lips twitch, and she moves to set down the tray holding a steaming bowl of soup. Her golden hair rests over her shoulders, a logo on her sweater for Hollowbrook Academy. Hollowbrook? The name seems unfamiliar, but in my mind's eye, a domed building appears. Or perhaps it’s a stadium, skidded with blood down the halls and a high-pitched scream escaping the locker room. Suddenly, it all comes flooding back.