8. Chapter 8
Jinx
Mason’s shower is huge. While the water is getting hot, I finish drinking my coffee. As soon as I set my mug down on the counter, he walks in, closing the door and standing in the middle of the bathroom while I stand at attention, ready for his directions.
“Undress me,” he orders.
I quickly remove his robe. His body is hot, but not ripped. He clearly takes care of himself. I like that his build isn’t intimidating, even if he’s taller. Out of fear, I’ve never been into big muscles. Sure, I’ve found some men attractive, but no one I wanted.
I splay my hands on his chest, then my fingers travel down to his happy trail. “I like this.”
“Bodily hair is meant to be groomed, not shaved,” he says.
“My handler used to make his boys shave everywhere. I hated it.”
I’ve done my best to obey him this morning because I really want to try this, but it’s not easy.
My very nature, since being set free, has been defiance at every turn.
Obedience and defiance are currently at war with each other.
It’s not that I care about being punished, not like how Mason does it, but I really want to give this a go.
I don’t want him to turn me away. So far, nothing else has really worked for me.
Maybe I could get something out of this.
Hell, I’m just grateful he let me share his bed last night.
Still, I probably shouldn’t talk out of turn. That’s the hardest part.
I take Mason’s hand and step into the hot spray of the shower.
Standing there with him as the water hits us, I vanish from the shower, bathroom, and house. I’m back in LA, in my past. My body freezes, and I gasp for air.
Fuck. No. Please.
Of all things to set off a trigger, being in the shower with another man shouldn’t be one of them.
The last day I saw Phillip comes crashing around me.
My eyes fucking water and my heart is beating so hard and fast, it hurts. My lungs feel that pressure when you can’t find oxygen, as I find myself in Phillip’s bathroom, like I’m really there.
I scrub Phillip’s back. He’s not the most handsome of men. He’s not thin. But he’s mine for now, and I hope it’ll be forever soon. He would never hurt me. I just know he’d take care of me. He’s so nice.
“Turn around, sir. I need to clean your front.” He faces me, and I take the rag and scrub his broad chest. “D-did you talk to Tito?”
“I did.”
I stare up at his brown eyes, which are shadowed by bags and wrinkles. Phillip is old enough to be my grandfather, but I don’t care. Not one bit.
“W-what did he say?” I’m praying in my head that he said yes. Please let him say yes. I never want to go back.
Phillip grabs my wrists to stop my scrubbing. A lump forms in my gut as dread takes over. The frown on his face is all the answer I need. “I wanted to talk to you about this after our shower, but I suppose we’ll have to do it now.”
I shake my head repeatedly as tears form. “No, no, no… Please don’t send me back.”
He sighs and cups my face. “You’ve always been so smart, Jinx. Your handler has threatened to ruin my business and my life if I don’t return you today. He won’t let us see each other again.”
I back away until I hit the tiles. “But you promised!”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Someone always gets hurt when you cry.
“I can’t risk it, sweet boy. I’ve built my business from the ground up. If he exposes that I’m with a teen boy, it will ruin me.”
“No one has to know. I’ll… I’ll never leave the house! No one will see me, I swear!”
“I want to live, too. I don’t want to die, Jinx.”
I want to tell him that Tito wouldn’t kill him, but he just might. He’s that fucking mean.
“You can’t send me back there! Please!”
I drop to my knees and sob. I reach for his leg and wrap my arms around it. While I’ve never lived with Phillip, seeing him a few times a week has saved me in a way I never expected. I feel free around him. Safe.
What a joke. I’m not safe. I’ve never been safe. It was all an illusion. I blinded myself.
“Please, I’ll be so good. I’ll be a good boy for you forever.”
“I’m so sorry, kiddo. He’ll be here soon to pick you up. I wish there were another way.”
He tries to lift me to stand, but I slap him away and scramble back. “No! I hate you!”
I slip and slide out of the bathroom. Unable to see through all my tears, I fall, slamming my knees on the tiles. It’s hard to get up; the floor is slick with water. Once I’m on my feet, I run out of there.
I want to keep running so far away. My instincts tell me to, but I can’t. I have nothing. No money, food, or clothes except what I wore over here. I don’t even know my real name.
When I reach the front door and run out onto the driveway, still naked, I stop, recognizing Tito’s car.
He slowly gets out with a cruel grin on his face.
“Thought you could get away from me, huh? I’ll prove to you that you’ll never be able to escape. Oh, the pain I’m going to dish out…”
“Jinx!”
My mind instantly rushes to the present, but I can’t find air.
“Breathe, Jinx. Breathe. Look at me.”
I’m gasping as my brain reboots. We’re both on the shower floor. He’s holding my face as I stare into his eyes.
Focus on his eyes. Pretty eyes. Green and brown and gray, all mixed into his unique color. The irises are ringed with a dark band. The pupils are huge with fear.
He has a small mole under his eye. I like it.
Soon, my lungs stop constricting, and I can breathe easier. Except my heart won’t stop pounding in my chest.
“There you are,” he whispers. “Thank fuck. Jesus Christ.”
Mason helps me to stand on shaking legs. Instead of walking me out of the shower, he lifts me in his arms and takes me to his bedroom, where he sits me on the bed. He snags a blanket and drapes it over my wet body.
Sitting between my legs, he looks up at me, filled with worry that no one ever showed me other than Julien and Aleks.
“How do you feel?”
I close my eyes as they start leaking. The panic is gone, but the residual effects slam home, and my hands start to shake. “I’m… not sure,” I manage to get out. “A… trigger came out of… nowhere.”
It’s not the first time I’ve had them. Generally, I have my freak-outs in private as much as I can. I prefer to deal with my shit in the quiet, alone.
“I’m fine,” I rasp, still finding my breath. “Sorry.”
I try to stand and leave. The need to escape is so strong that I’m having a hard time breathing again. He can’t see any more than I’ve let him. Telling him my story is one thing. Reliving it is another.
When I try to stand to find some corner to cry in, Mason eases me back down.
“Let me go,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Just sit, breathe, and try to calm down.”
“Get the fuck off! Don’t touch me!”
He instantly raises his hands and stands. When he does, I take the blanket and rush to the room I’m supposed to stay in and lock it.
I rest my back on the door and fall on my ass. I gather my legs and sob into my knees.
It was supposed to be a fun weekend, learning to trust and get control back. Instead, I’ve ruined everything over a fucking shower.
After using several techniques my doctor taught me, I try to calm the fuck down.
Find five things I can see. There are mountains in the distance. Snow is still falling from the sky. The bed against the wall looks like a cloud. The painting above it. It’s abstract and gives most of the color in the room. The rug in the center is Persian and looks expensive.
Four things I can touch. The knitted blanket is soft. The wood floor is hard and cold. My hair is wet. My skin is clammy.
Three things I can hear. My own breathing. My heart pounding in my ears. The gentle hum of the heater.
I don’t reach the last two. I’ve stopped crying, and my heart isn’t slamming my chest anymore.
Now that I’m calming down, I can reflect on what just happened. I’d suffered three traumatic instances while living at that fucking motel from hell. Yeah, I suffered a lot, but there were three that completely changed me.
Romeo getting hurt. Being abandoned by the only man who’d ever been kind to me. Then getting cut by Tito, which was worse than the rape. Tito’s punishment kept me silent and compliant for the rest of the time I lived in that motel from hell until we finally escaped.
The shower just brought all that pain back.
Being bound to Tito’s bed. He’s drinking straight out of the bottle.
Wobbly on his legs. Grinning maniacally.
Sweaty. Gross. Hateful. He has a knife in his hand.
I’ve peed the bed. He sees it and is enraged.
The knife slowly inserts into my stomach, and he slowly drags it down and down.
The smell of blood makes me want to throw up.
The fucking pain. So much pain. I scream.
It’s amazing I even lived through that.
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t.
I’m suddenly exhausted. I should probably talk to Mason, but I can’t right now. After crawling into the bed, I sink into its softness and pull the covers over my head. It doesn’t take long for sleep to consume me.
It’s dark out when I wake up. The sky has cleared, and the moon is out, casting a gray glow in the room.
Fuck, did I sleep all day?
Double fuck. Mason.
He’s probably going to send me home for good. He’s going to be afraid to touch me ever again.
My feet on the cold floor make me shiver. I’m still naked, so I open my bag and pull out a pair of sweats and a hoodie. I don’t bother looking at myself in the mirror. I’ll just hate what I see.
As I pull on my socks, I’m growing more pissed by the second. Pissed at myself and my reaction. Pissed at my past life. Pissed at Tito still fucking haunting me.
I open the bedroom door and swallow my gasp. I find Mason leaning against the wall, legs stretched out, arms folded, and his chin pressed to his chest, lightly snoring.
He kept watch over me while giving me my space. I’m not sure why that brings tears to my eyes again. It’s… fucking touching.
I glance around the open home. It’s all dark, much like my mood, but the weight of it is lifting at the sight of him there—my protector.