The Day I Found Him (Lost and Found #2)

Chapter 1

Nightmares

Gavin

“T he power of Christ compels you.” He was holding a Bible above my head like it was a sword he might stab me with. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t begin to understand why it all had to happen. I hadn’t done anything wrong. All I’d ever done was be myself. I looked up at him, even more uncertain why he was allowing it. Why didn’t he ever do anything or say anything?

They wanted me to look at the screen on the wall, but I didn’t want to. I was already completely humiliated, and I knew what would happen if I looked. It wasn’t as though I’d be able to keep my body from reacting. I was scared, but I was also seventeen, and I’d always had a pretty high sex drive. I wouldn’t be able to stop it even though I knew what would happen, so I tried not to look.

I closed my eyes tight, and a tear slipped out. I hated it when I cried there because they knew they were getting to me every time. There were three of them in the room, and I could feel them all closing in on me as I lay helpless on the table they’d strapped me to. “Open your eyes.”

A sob slipped out as I shook my head, still clenching my eyes shut. “Open them, Gavin!” The voice was stern, angry, and I braced myself for more pain. A slap was what came, right across my face. It did the job, though, and my eyes snapped open. “Look at it. You have to look at it. You must associate it with the evil that it truly is. You have to understand if you want the demon to leave you. It’s the only way.”

I glanced up at him , first. But he was just as stone-faced as they were as he looked on, just another of them when he was with them. But he wasn’t one of them. I wanted to say something, to point it out, but I was afraid. Another slap brought me all the way out of my thoughts. “Look at it.” One of them grabbed my head and held it up, forcing me to look at the screen.

The pain I was expecting hit me. An electric shock that time. I cried out in pain. I wanted someone to help me, to make it stop. He should have stopped it. He should have said something, but he was silent. He wasn’t actively helping them, but he wasn’t helping me, either. In all of my short life, despite being hurt quite often by the person who was supposed to take care of me, I’d never felt pain like I felt there. Physical or mental.

“ Still, Gavin?” the voice dripped with disappointment, “Your own body gives you away. It’s not working.” The Bible came down on my forehead with some force, causing the back of my head to hit the table painfully. They were muttering prayers I couldn’t quite hear, the one with the Bible speaking over all of them about the demons leaving me. I couldn’t focus on any of it because I was still shaking in pain and fear.

I remained still and silent, wanting it to be over. I couldn’t take anymore that day. He finally removed the Bible from my forehead. I was pretty sure what they were doing wasn’t in that book, but I was no expert. They sure seemed to think it was, and that what they were doing was justified and necessary. They called it the Lord’s work, but I was pretty sure, just from what I’d learned on my own, that the Lord actually wouldn’t agree with them. “What did you see on that screen, Gavin?”

Two hot guys getting each other off? “Evil.” It didn’t matter what I felt, or what I wanted to say. It didn’t matter what it looked like to me, I had to get the answers right so they’d think it was working. Even my room there was better than the torture room. Even home was better than anywhere there. I had to keep being right so I could leave. Home wasn’t good, by any means, especially since that bastard was why I was there in the first place, but it was better than where I was.

“That’s right, Gavin. It was evil. All of it is evil, and it will bring you nothing but pain. Nothing but death. We want you to understand that. The pain here is immediate and literal, but it’s exactly what life will bring you if you choose to live in such an atrocious sin as you just saw on that screen. You have to remember that. It will bring you pain and illness. It will make you loathe yourself, it will fill you with disgust at your own life.” I already had the disgust and loathing, thanks to them and my father. “It will bring hatred from everyone around you. You’ll be shunned by the world. You’ll be full of humiliation and fear, just like you are here, except even more palpable and it will be your entire life. A life like that will bring you death, Gavin, and finally eternal damnation. The pain we’ve shown you in this room is nothing compared to an eternity in hell. Do you understand?”

I nodded. Yes and yes. Everything yes. You’re right about everything. I agree with it all. Whatever it took to get me out of there.

The man holding the Bible sighed like he didn’t believe me. “Take him back to his room.” He shook his head and closed his eyes as though in disappointment.

It was supposed to be group therapy, almost like we were in some kind of camp. But we weren’t in a camp. We weren’t allowed to bunk together, because then we’d be right in temptation’s way. We didn’t ever do anything as a group, and we weren’t allowed to leave our rooms. I saw other kids, occasionally, but we weren’t allowed to talk to each other.

They released me from the table, and I was allowed to dress in the scrubs they made me wear. I couldn’t very well leave the room naked, even though they probably would have liked to make me do so. But then someone might see, and someone might look. But someone was already looking.

They never left the room while I dressed or undressed, never gave me the privacy that even a doctor who was getting ready to see everything gives you. I tried not to look at them while I slipped my clothes back on. I followed him out of the room and down the hall. “Are you ok?” He was the only one who ever asked me, but I still had a hard time believing he cared.

“Would you be ok if someone shocked you in the nuts with a fucking cattle prod?” I shot at him.

“Watch your mouth,” he hissed, “If they hear you, you’ll be in trouble for that, too. And for the love of God, it’s not a cattle prod.”

I didn’t care about them hearing me. I was still in pain, and I was sad, angry, and feeling hopeless. “Still fucking hurts like a bitch.”

He opened my door with a shake of his head, glancing around once more. He stepped inside the room with me and reached out, touching my arm gently. “Hey, it’s almost over, ok? Just keep saying what they want you to say. And try a little harder to keep your dick under control when they make you look at something.”

I sighed. “Don’t you think I would if I could?”

His hand ran up my arm slowly, sliding over my neck and then caressing my jaw. “I know you’re trying. Do you want me to make you feel better?”

I pulled away from his touch. “Not tonight.” He sighed but nodded, leaving me alone in my room as he shut the door behind him. The door was never locked, but it might as well have been. We were all too scared to leave our rooms without permission, and they knew it.

I fell into the bed that was hard enough to hurt in the fall and covered up with the thin blanket they’d given me. I wished I had an ice pack or something to help with the pain, but I knew I’d never get anything like that. They wanted me to hurt. They wanted me to feel it. I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep that night, so I just lay there, not even aware of my own thoughts. I was only vaguely aware of the tears that were falling slowly down my face. I just wanted to go home.

◆◆◆

I woke up in a cold sweat, looking around my dark apartment. For a few panicked moments, I was sure I could see them, lurking in the shadows along the far wall. I definitely heard noises outside. Even if they weren’t inside the room with me, they were out there, and my door would never hold. They’d come in and take me. They were right there, I knew it .

I closed my eyes and pressed my hands against them, trying to get my breathing under control, trying to calm my racing mind and my body that was in fight-or-flight mode. I knew that someday I wouldn’t be able to do it, that I would be so far gone I’d have a heart attack, because it got worse every time. God, what I would give to have someone to hold me and tell me that it would be ok, that I was ok, but there was no one. I was alone and that was just how it was. It would be like that for the rest of my life. I couldn’t have anyone like that, they’d never let it happen. No one deserved to have to deal with all of this, anyway.

I wished I could go back and change my entire life. If I hadn’t been such a damn horny teenager, none of it would have ever happened. My dad wouldn’t have caught me, and he never would have known. I wouldn’t have lost my best friend in the world, my best friend since kindergarten, and I wouldn’t have ruined his life along with my own. My dad never would have sent me to that place. And while I’d still be waking up alone to avoid getting caught, at least I wouldn’t have nightmares every night that led to paranoia and panic attacks.

I flipped the lamp on, checking to make sure I was really alone, and my breathing finally slowed slightly when I could see that I was. I shoved the blankets off me and walked to the bathroom, the only room separated from the rest of my shitty studio apartment. I hesitated at the door, but it was empty. I gripped the sink, staring at myself in the mirror. I turned on the cold water and splashed some on my sweaty face, then leaned on the sink, watching as the water ran down the drain. My knuckles were turning white on the edge of the sink, so I finally released it and straightened, toweling off my face before turning off the water and heading back to my bed. I grabbed my phone to see how early it was. I could never go back to sleep after a nightmare, although it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Four a.m. There was no point in getting up yet. I heaved a huge sigh and flipped my pillow to the cool side, laying there and staring at the wall across from the bed. I could hear the dryers in the 24-hour laundromat downstairs. It was always hot in my apartment in the summer thanks to them, but it sure saved me electricity in the winter. They were probably also the noises I’d imagined were them at my door, trying to take me back.

I glanced around my apartment again, just to be sure. Still empty. The place was a shithole with a fridge that was too small but never full, a stove top, and a microwave. The bathroom barely contained the tiny sink, toilet and shower stall, and I constantly ran out of hot water because I shared with the laundromat downstairs. My bed was full-sized and uncomfortable. There was a ratty old couch and rickety table that had come with the apartment. It was the only place I could afford. I barely afforded it, most of the time. If I managed to save up any money it was taken away nearly instantly. Unfair speeding tickets and odd fines seemed much too common in my life to be a coincidence. My dad might not be Sheriff any longer, but he still had plenty of pull.

I tossed and turned a few times but finally gave up and grabbed my phone. I clicked on Instagram. I had a few likes on some of my gym selfies from some random guys who I may or may not have hooked up with in the past. To be honest, I wasn’t sure. Yeah, thanks for the likes. Whatever happened between us won’t happen again, so you might as well unfollow me. I knew I was asking for trouble by keeping my profile public, but I also couldn’t find it in myself to care. He found out whatever he wanted to, anyway, and he made my life hell. What difference did social media profiles make?

My past was especially dragging me down right then, my desperate wishing I’d done everything differently nearly bringing me to tears, so I clicked on following and found the profile of my childhood best friend. It did kind of hurt to look at the page, because I knew it was happiness that I’d never understand, that I’d never get for myself, but it also helped me tremendously. Looking at his page, I could see that I hadn’t ruined everything. I hadn’t permanently ruined both of us, only myself.

The pictures he posted healed some part of me. The smiles and the memories he was making; they made up for it. I knew I’d hurt him back then, and I’d never fully forgive myself for it. I’d seen the pain, the utter heartbreak I’d caused by ignoring him and what he’d perceived as indifference. I knew he understood a little bit. He had to, it would be hard not to when someone’s dad screamed in your face for a full five minutes with the barrel of a loaded gun pressed to your forehead. He knew I was scared, but I was never sure if he truly understood it had always been him I’d been scared for, not myself.

I’d stepped back and watched him flounder for a while, finally finding a way that didn’t truly belong to him. I watched him wander around, miserable in the wrong way, even though I was the only one who knew how unhappy he really was. I couldn’t fix it, though, I was unhappy, too.

He’d finally found his way, though, finally found himself, with the help of the one person who’d waited for him. It was everything to me. I’d utterly ruined him when we were sixteen, and knowing that someone had been able to repair the damage I’d done made me able to keep going, to forgive a tiny part of myself even though I didn’t deserve it. I should have known better, should never have started it.

I smiled as I looked at the new pictures of their honeymoon in Paris. Seeing his life turn out well made me happy. My life was shit but it was mine, and I’d found my own way, out of that house with the asshole who never failed to ruin everything. He ruined me . He ruined my mind, broke my soul to the point that I would never be right again. I was away from him, though, on my own, and that was all that mattered.

I managed to keep pushing forward, probably mostly out of spite, but it was what it was. What I had was all I’d ever get. There were people who were attracted to me, but I had to be careful because I was watched constantly, and I knew it. He’d never let me leave town for good. He made sure I could never get completely out from under his thumb. I hated it, but as long as I was on my own, I was ok.

I rubbed my arms, feeling cold as the air from the rotating fan hit my sweat-slicked skin. I glanced down at all the ink there. Tattoos were the main type of therapy I got. The pain was the perfect release, and I was addicted to them. I was covered in pictures that told the story of my life, even if no one else understood what they meant. I didn’t have money for tattoos either, obviously, and I wondered what my dad thought about all my ink. I was pretty sure he didn’t know my friend would give them to me cheap if I sucked him off in the back room.

◆◆◆

A message popped up on my phone suddenly, making me jump. Fuck . I knew I really should make my profile private, but I still didn’t. My blood ran cold every time I saw his name. It still popped up sometimes, I guessed when he was feeling really desperate. He thought he still had a right to me since we’d hooked up occasionally for a couple of years after… everything . It hadn’t ever felt right, but I was an idiot kid who didn’t know what the fuck I was doing and wanted to feel good even though I felt terrible at the same time, in so many different ways.

Will you ever stop ignoring me? There’s no reason we can’t meet up again. It isn’t going to hurt anything. I’ll make sure no one finds out. This is ridiculous, Gavin. You’re being childish by not responding .

I focused on five things I could see, then four things I could feel, three things I could hear, and two things I could smell before taking a drink of my flat soda to taste one thing, just like that app had told me to do. The free app was my only other form of therapy besides tattoos, but it helped a little bit, sometimes.

I glanced at the phone before quickly clicking out of my messages. I wasn’t sure what about me might be so addicting, because I sure didn’t feel like people pined after me and all my emotional baggage, but apparently one did. I had a feeling it was mostly the whole forbidden thing. Everything about us was forbidden for him, and I wondered when he would finally give up. He only messaged every few months anymore, but every message sent me into a panic attack if I couldn’t get a handle on it immediately.

I clicked out of Instagram completely and switched to some silly game, trying to keep my mind occupied. Trying not to end up back in that room, the room that waking up had just allowed me to escape from, again. I had to escape that room a lot. Nearly every night. Every time I hooked up with someone. Every time I thought about any of the people there.

I finally dragged myself out of bed, tossing my phone back onto the nightstand. I got in the shower, even though since someone was apparently doing laundry downstairs at four-thirty in the morning, the water was only lukewarm. Maybe the cold would be enough of a shock to keep me from the panic that was threatening right at the edges of my mind. I knew I needed real help, more than an app or a tattoo for a blowjob would ever give me, but I couldn’t afford it.

In an attempt to not think about him , or that place, my thoughts drifted to my tattoo artist friend, Collin. I hardened at the thought of him, even in the lukewarm water. We’d gone to high school together, and I’d had a crush on him even back then. He knew it, and he used that to get what he wanted, but I got what I wanted, too. I got the tattoos I craved like a drug, and sometimes I got off at the thought of him getting off. I jacked off in the shower remembering the last time I’d blown him, then finished showering quickly and got dressed. I didn’t go to work until ten. My sleep schedule sucked but maybe I’d go in early and get a workout in. At least if I decided to take another shower at work, the water was always hot.

I poured myself a bowl of stale cereal and used the last of my milk. I needed to go to the store. I was completely out of food again, and I had a little of my last paycheck left outside of what I’d set aside for rent. I contemplated what to buy to make it to my next check without starving and still pay my bills.

I knew it would be a while before I could save up enough money to finish the full back tattoo we’d started, despite Collin only ever charging me for the ink. The tattoos were the only thing I loved about myself, though, and I wore them like the badge that bastard used to wear; they were a testament to a life of no worth. Sometimes they hurt to look at, but they healed some part of me at the same time. I had to pace myself with them, as much as I hated to. My jaw could only handle so many blowjobs, and my wallet could only handle so much tattoo ink.

◆◆◆

I watched TV on a free app on my phone until the grocery store a few blocks away was open. I decided to walk there, mainly for the air. The sun was up, it was a nice day, and being outside always made me a little less angry at life. I glanced out at the nearby mountains. I supposed it was a pretty place if you hadn’t grown up there and been completely fucked up by it. People vacationed there and stuff. It was weird.

I walked into the grocery store intent on getting some instant ramen and peanut butter to get by. I was pretty sure I could make the bread last; I was good at picking off the moldy spots. I could eat cereal without milk. I’d be fine. I knew I was living like a broke college kid, except I’d never made it to college, and I was an adult. My job at the gym could probably also belong to a college kid, but at least it came with a membership.

I came around the corner of the peanut butter aisle, a box of instant ramen in hand, and ran smack into a girl going the opposite direction. “Sorry,” I mumbled, even though we were equally at fault. She stopped and looked at me for so long I started to feel uncomfortable. I was wearing an old, tight tank top and a pair of baggy jeans. Nothing out of the ordinary. Was it the tattoos? She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I knew her from until she said, “Oh, my god, Gavin? Gavin Crossley?” As soon as she spoke I knew who she was even though, thanks to my dad, the last time I’d seen her she’d barely been thirteen years old.

“Cindy?” Oh, how fantastic . Life was probably about to kick me some more. How the hell had I avoided my ex’s sister for nearly eight years then literally ran into her at the grocery store on such a bad day? Every day was bad, but that morning had been exceptionally panic inducing. I knew I’d effectively ruined Caden’s youth and his family probably hated me. I had no idea how much they really knew, but I was sure whatever was coming for me right then wouldn’t be good. My past had always been bound to come up at some point, though.

Cindy Connor had always been loud and outspoken, even as a kid. Despite knowing that, I didn’t really expect what came out of her mouth. “ Damn , Gavin. You really had a glow-up since you dated my brother, huh? Wow .”

“Um.” I wasn’t even sure which part of her statement I should address.

She looked me up and down again and I realized it wasn’t a lens of judgment she was looking through. “Nice tats, man. Sorry, not trying to weird you out, just, you must hear all the time that you’re looking good. How’s life been treating you?”

I shrugged. “I mean, ok, I guess. How about you?” I didn’t talk to that many people, and I was awkward in most social situations. I hated crowds, and my interactions at bars in the city, the only places I went that were full of people, never involved a lot of talking, just me dropping my pants, or having my mouth full. Our interaction felt even more awkward than most. I wasn’t sure what to say to her.

“Good, good,” she replied, “I’m in college now, up north. I’m here for the summer. Caden is doing good. He’s running an LGBTQ youth center and shelter down in Florida. You know he got married?”

“Yeah, I kind of heard. Glad he’s doing well.” She would never know how glad. They were the cutest couple, and I was glad he was loud about it. When that kid went missing, I knew. Even though no one else did, I saw Caden in the background of it all. He was completely broken, and my heart broke for him. I knew it was someone he loved. When he went out and found Jamie himself, it was so obvious, but apparently no one realized it even then, because people just saw what they wanted to. Caden looked at the camera right before he came out in a packed hockey arena. I knew he was trying to tell me that it was ok to be myself. I knew. But even though they were really happy, love like that just wasn’t something that was in the cards for me.

“Well, it’s nice to see you again,” Cindy went on, “I wasn’t sure if you were even still around here.”

“I don’t get out much,” I muttered.

I could tell she heard the bitterness in my words, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she eyed me up and down again. “Well, if you’re single and you’ve decided to switch teams, I’m staying at my parent’s house.” I must have looked aghast because she laughed and said, “Worth a shot. But I do have a friend back at school, and he’s really-”

“Oh, man, I didn’t realize what time it was. I have to get going. It was good seeing you, though, Cindy.” I didn’t have to hurry anywhere except away from the conversation. I hesitated but added, “Tell Caden I said hey. And that I’m really glad he’s doing well.” I brushed past her before she could say anything else.

Being set up with some stranger at a faraway college was definitely not something I was after. I had enough problems the way it was. Just handling Collin and my hookups in the gay bars without my dad catching me was hard enough. I knew better than to try for an actual relationship. The few times I’d been talked into going home with someone I’d looked over my shoulder all the way home the next morning and I always had the feeling I was being watched when I came rolling back into town. More than once I’d been pulled over for no good reason and questioned about where I’d been and where I was going. I always lied, because I knew it wasn’t how everyone was treated. I knew he still had eyes all over the town and beyond.

I was paying for my groceries when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I waited until I’d grabbed my bag and was headed out the door in case it was something that would send me spiraling. He rarely sent me more than one message in a row, but I couldn’t be too careful. I breathed a slight sigh of relief when I saw it was a text from Collin. I clicked on it as I walked outside but slowed to a stop on the sidewalk as I read the message.

Hey, I’m willing to finish your back piece completely free, ink and all. Can we talk about it?

“Fuck,” I said aloud, because I’d known it was coming. My back was well over halfway finished, but there was still a lot of work to be done. It would take quite a bit of time and ink. To do the rest of it for free only meant one thing. He’d been growing more and more curious- wanting to touch me, wanting to watch me jerk off while I blew him, wanting to see what I would do with his finger up my ass while he tattooed it.

Despite knowing it was coming, I started to panic. There were several problems with what I knew he was about to ask me. The first problem was that he was bi-curious, not gay. I was easy experimenting because he knew me, knew I was gay, and knew I wanted tattoos. The second problem that kind of went along with the first was that I was gay, and I’d had a crush on him for years. The third problem was that I knew if we went as far as he was getting ready to ask me to, it would probably throw some sort of wrench in our whole relationship. And he was the only friend I had left.

Looking back, the whole thing had probably always been destined to turn out one way. I was going to end up hurt while pretending that I wasn’t, and he was going to end up either disgusted with himself, with me, or both.

The final, and possibly biggest problem was that I was aware that as soon as he asked me, I wouldn’t be able to say no. I wanted the tattoo, yes, but that wasn’t the real reason. I had patience for that. The one thing I rarely got was human affection. I knew I was fairly desperate for every bit of it I found, and it was usually someone I’d just met at a bar who was willing to give it to me.

My unfortunate sex drive mixed with my own loneliness made it hard to say no to anyone, despite my personal struggles every time. Being with strangers was the easiest way for me to take care of the needs that plagued me without getting caught, but the thought of being with someone I knew and gave a fuck about, the thought of that person touching me, wanting me even if only for a few moments, was almost more than I could handle. I knew I’d never be able to turn down the opportunity no matter how hard I tried.

I tried to text him back on the sidewalk before he could go on. I tried to change the subject by telling him I had things I needed to take care of and that I wouldn’t be able to come by for a while, but his next text came through before I could get a whole message typed out.

I want to fuck you. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m really trying to figure myself out, and I want it to be with you.

Would that actually make me a whore? I wasn’t sure, but it kind of felt like it. Paying him for the ink at least felt moral. They’d beat it into me that just being gay was wrong, but being a gay prostitute would be wrong on a whole other level. And it wasn’t even in exchange for money to survive. It was for a tattoo. I tried to text him back and tell him no, but my brain wouldn’t let my fingers type out the text.

I hesitated long enough that he sent another. Please, Gavin. I need this. You’re my friend. I need it to be with someone I trust. The tattoo isn’t payment, it’s a thank you for being there for me when I was confused. Alright?

This is a bad idea was what I planned to text him. But somehow, when I read the text I sent, it said, Yeah, ok. You want me to come over tonight? I’m off work at six.

What the hell was I doing?