BAY #10
There’s something about him that brings me peace.
When I sit next to him, when I talk to him, the world feels a little softer, a little easier to bear.
The anger fades, the grief dulls, and even the shame, that constant sense of being nothing but trash used by two ex-cons, loses some of its weight.
It’s like Alex’s energy is purging me, lifting me up, almost healing.
We continue chatting as we walk downstairs.
We turn a corner, heading toward the hallway where the freshmen have their lockers, and suddenly four figures step out in front of us.
Yeah. Four.
Alex reacts first. He spins around instantly, trying to dart back the way we came, but one of the alphas grabs his backpack and yanks him to a stop.
"Let him go. Right now," I growl through clenched teeth, but the tallest alpha’s hands clamp down on my neck.
I know immediately he’s not a student here. He has to be nineteen or twenty, built like a grown alpha, several inches taller than me, and I can tell there’s no way I can win against him. This isn’t Vin, who I could take down with sheer determination.
When I glance at the others, it hits me, interesting. Neither Rob nor Vin is here, yet I can tell these guys are from their family. Hansons. Those crude mugs.
"We’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Pretty Face," says the tallest one, the one holding me by the neck.
Then he leans close to my ear and adds, "But I also heard you don’t know your manners. Guess we’ll have to fix that."
One of them, another guy I don’t recognize from our school, though to be fair, I don’t know many people yet, steps in front of me, and in the next moment, I take a hard hit to the stomach.
"No!" Alex screams, struggling against the grip of one of the two younger alphas holding him.
My gut feeling grows stronger, none of these guys belong to our high school.
If they did, they’d be expelled for this in a heartbeat.
Somehow they snuck in. I have to give it to Rob and Vin, that’s clever.
They know that if they got involved themselves, or even showed up here, they’d be kicked out.
But this way? They’re not technically here. So it’s got ‘nothing’ to do with them.
Still, it’s not like they can take anything from me. Everything’s already been taken.
There’s a strange, twisted pleasure in the pain, a masochistic calm when the blows land on my stomach, my face, even on my crotch. I feel the blood dripping from my nose and mouth, the world darkening around me. Hit, after hit, after hit, dull thuds pounding into my body.
I can hear Alex screaming, his voice muffled as one of the alphas holds him from behind and covers his mouth, trying to silence him. Still, every now and then, a sharp, desperate cry escapes him.
Then another blow hits my jaw, and the world folds into soothing darkness.
When I open my eyes for just a moment, I feel Alex’s soft, warm hands on my forehead, on my cheeks. He’s cradling my face, whispering,
"Bay, Bay, Bay… please open your eyes, I’ve called for help!"
His hands are so warm, filled with that sweet, gentle energy that makes me want to sink into it and forget everything, the pain, the fear, all the terrible things that happened to me.
So I don’t let myself wake up.
Instead, I let myself fall deeper into that comforting, healing darkness, lulled by the tender touch of Alex’s hands.
◆◆◆
When I wake up again, I’m in a hospital. Pale, neon light, the scent of hospital sheets, the beeping of machines watching over my pulse… all of it surrounds me like a haze.
Voices drift toward me from somewhere in the distance, my dad’s tense, raised voice mixed with someone else’s.
My eyelids feel heavy like lead, but I manage to keep them open.
Jordan is sitting in the chair beside me. I guess my parents are somewhere out in the hallway, talking to the doctor.
But not for long.
"Bay!" Jordan leans over me right away. "Lake, he woke up, come here!"
My parents rush into the room, their faces tight with worry and stress.
Their quick movements are almost overwhelming.
"Bay, sweetheart!"
Too loud, fuck.
Dad reaches my bedside in a heartbeat, his hands gripping my own so tightly. "How do you feel, how do you feel, honey, Bay…?"
They both lean over me, their faces filling my blurry vision. Of course, I try to grimace, but I can’t, because my lips are so swollen I can barely move them.
I’m definitely on pain meds, but I still feel awful… and somehow weirdly good too, like something inside me is buzzing, some strange excitement, some twisted spark that comes only from being noticed. I don’t have any other language to tell them what lives in me, so I speak through damage.
All I manage to produce is a low groan.
Then I notice someone else standing in the hallway, hovering shyly in the doorway as if afraid to come closer, nervously chewing at his pink fingernails and probably ingesting glitter.
It’s Alex, and behind him stands an older omega with his hands resting gently on Alex’s shoulders. I can guess who he is.
"I was so worried," Dad keeps talking. "The doctor said you have a concussion and bruised ribs…"
I stay silent because my head feels like it has been shaken and stirred in its own sauce.
"Your friend, Alex Strada, gave us descriptions of the attackers and the police have already identified them," my father says, his voice tight.
"Yes," Dad adds just as tensely, "the police are already looking for them."
"The oldest was Kit Hanson, the one who held you, and Matt Hanson, the one who beat you…" my father starts, but Dad waves his hand, trying to spare me the details.
"Tell us how you feel, say something, sweetheart," Dad whispers, squeezing my hand.
My eyes drift toward Alex. His eyes are red and swollen as if he has been crying for a long time.
I want him to come closer so badly. Him, specifically him, not anyone else. I want him to touch my hand.
Just that, only that.
Alex seems to sense it. He steps forward, slipping away from his dad’s hands.
"May I come in?" he asks, directing the question to my dad.
"Of course, honey," Dad answers.
Alex crosses the room quickly and sits on my other side. His small hands wrap around my other hand. He’s shaking, yet somehow his touch pulls the pain out of my body, lifting it away as if by magic. Warmth and relief wash over me in a flood.
"Bay, my angel, oh, Bay! I was so scared. You wouldn’t wake up… "
"Sometimes it’s better not to wake up. Sometimes it’s better not to live," I mutter, and the horror on Alex’s face and on both my parents’ faces hits instantly.
Oops. It slipped out. The darkness inside me is always clawing to get out.
"Bay, don’t say that!" my dad bursts out, tears running down his cheeks. "Everything will be alright, the police will take care of this…"
But they don’t know what I’m talking about. The Hanson thing… honestly, it didn’t even shake me that much. I take it with an odd calm. I don’t feel much anger or panic about it. If anything, I feel a reckless thrill because something managed to hurt me even more before, so this? Easy peasy.
The only thing that isn’t pleasant is the look in Alex’s eyes and my dad’s eyes, both filled with tears.
They worry about me. About someone like me? A piece of fucking trash, a cumdump?
I don’t want them to worry. The truth is, I’d rather they worried about something else, something much worse, but they don’t know, they can’t know, so I stay trapped here.
My dad glances back at the doorway and makes a small gesture. "Alex’s dad is a prosecutor, and it just so happens that we’ve met before. He’s going to help us with the civil case against the Hansons."
I look up at the omega. What strikes me is how much older he looks compared to my dad.
His hair is gray and his face is tired and stern.
He isn’t unattractive, just a completely different type of beauty from what I like.
Alex didn’t inherit his looks from him, except maybe the short height and light hair.
The man gives me a brief nod.
"I’ve heard plenty about those people. I know they’re a menace at school and outside it as well. It will be good to stop at least a few of them." His voice is formal and firm, like he’s already presenting his case in court.
"Thank you," I manage with some effort. For some reason, I want to be on good terms with Alex’s dad.
I glance at Alex again. He’s staring at me as if I’m something miraculous, and the familiar wave of not deserving anything good washes over me again.
Then I look at my dad. "What exactly is wrong with me?" I push through my swollen lips.
"Bruised ribs, a second-degree concussion, a dislocated jaw, black eyes and of course bruising everywhere…"
"Will I be able to go to school?" I don’t know why this suddenly matters to me, but the idea of being alone at home while everyone else is out doesn’t appeal to me anymore.
"Well, no, probably for two or three weeks at least, maybe longer," my dad says quietly.
"I’ll help you," Alex blurts out. "With all the schoolwork, I’ll come every day and bring you all the materials from class so you won’t fall behind later."
"Thank you, Alex, but your dad needs to approve that," my dad says, looking at Prosecutor Strada.
"No problem. Bay protected Alex a few times already. If we can return the favor, we’ll gladly do it," he replies in the same stiff tone. Maybe that’s just how he always talks at work.
A moment later my parents and Alex’s dad step outside to talk about the police and legal matters. Alex leans toward me and suddenly kisses me on the cheek, quick and light.
A wave of confusion and panic washes over me.
"I’m so glad you’re alive, Bay," he whispers, voice shaking. "There were moments when I thought you gave up. When they were hitting you, it was awful… I wanted to scream and call for help so badly, but one of them kept his hand over my mouth, I couldn’t break free, I couldn’t help you."
I sigh, feeling exhaustion roll over me.