Chapter 32. Liam
I start mentally kicking myself because I totally could've taken a different route, maybe followed Griff out and cut through the courtyard to the cafeteria. But no, I had to go through the deserted corridor that links directly to the dorm building.
Everyone is at dinner or the rec room, and it's getting late.
We're alone. When I see Garrett, all I wish for, desperately, is that I could rewind time.
Just five minutes back, that's all I need.
No point in screaming or running, he snags me by the collar.
I know he's going to murder me, or something worse.
After dinner is rec room time, and that's when security beefs up there. No help for me.
I'm trapped.
"Look who it is. My little mouse. I finally got you," Garrett sneers. He sees the panic on my face, and that's my mistake. He knows I'm scared. I think about fighting back, throwing a punch, but it's too late. He's taller than me, he has me where he wants me, and he's planned this whole thing.
He punches me right in the nose. A burst of pain makes my legs buckle.
Then a gut punch knocks the wind out of me.
A kick to the groin has me crashing to the floor, too pained to even shout as everything goes black.
Then he just starts kicking me, over and over.
All I can do is cover my face with my hands, trying to protect it, but he hits everything else, ribs, back, kidneys.
I can do nothing but stay in place and take it, the pain so blinding it's impossible to breathe.
I think I'll die here. I'm pretty sure I'll die. There's no one around and nothing I can do. I'm weak and in too much pain. He keeps kicking me like a dog, and I can't even cry or do anything, just lie here and wait.
But just when I think he really is going to kick me to death, he stops. With one last laugh, he yanks me back up and throws my back against the wall. I'm bleeding so much it's soaking my clothes. I can barely see him, everything is black, disorienting, and I'm gasping.
"If I even dream that you ratted, next time I'll kill you," he hisses with this huge smile on his face.
He presses his forearm into my neck, choking me.
I grab his arm, using all my strength to push him off, but I can't move him.
He keeps pressing, until I'm gasping for air, vision going black, lungs burning, I think I'm really going to die.
I can't fight him off. Can't do anything.
He drops me right before I black out, and I collapse on the floor as he strolls off, humming happily.
I lie there, unable to move. Can't even cry because I've never been beaten this badly in my life.
I really think I'm going to die, and the worst part is that all I can think about is how Ethan is going to feel.
He won't take it well. I want to chuckle at that thought, and I would, if I weren't seconds from passing out.
"Liam?" I hear someone calling, but I can't see who it is until he gets close.
Miles, coming back from detention, probably.
He rushes over, desperate, helps me up, and we stagger to the bathroom.
I don't remember much, everything is a blur of pain.
He cleans the blood off my face without asking questions, sits me on the bathroom floor, and I just start crying.
Everything hurts so much it kind of goes numb.
I cry quietly for a while with him just sitting there.
He doesn't say anything but having someone there is better than being alone.
When I feel like I can stand without passing out, I drag myself to the sink to try cleaning up more. I look up. My face is a mess of bruises. My right eye barely opens. My lip is swollen and split.
We trudge back to our room in silence, and I just flop down on my bed. I want to cry more. I'm seething with anger and, more than anything, scared out of my mind. Griff's going to kill me when he finds out, and Garrett will literally kill me if I tell him who did it.
I don't plan on telling Miles either, but he never asks. He just hangs out beside me, hands me water, and gets a bag of chips from Ethan's stash in his closet. I try to eat, but my tongue is so banged up it hurts too much. So I just lie there, wallowing.
The next day, I'm just waiting for Griff to see me.
Everybody who passes me looks either shocked or in awe.
Some give me pitying looks. Others laugh at my face.
I'm so nervous, and probably have broken ribs.
Then roll call comes. Griff's face when he sees me goes pale for a second, then shifts to a mix of shock and anger.
"What the fuck happened to you?" Griff asks as we line up, one row behind another.
I stare at my shoes, but he's about to snap my chin up.
"Look at me, Marsal. Now," he commands, and I swallow hard, meeting his eyes.
"Carlos, you finish roll call. Come with me," he calls to a guard, who steps up and nods. No one says a word.
I don't want to go with him. I can barely walk. But I have no choice, so I limp behind him with all the guys staring at me.
"What happened, Liam?" he asks when we're in the hallway.
I shrug. "Who did this to you?" he presses.
I shrug again, looking at my feet. I feel sick.
"You're going to tell me,” he says. I shake my head, thinking about our talk from yesterday.
It was so good. And then this happened. "Marsal, you'd better tell me, or you're going to face serious consequences," he warns.
I shake my head again. "I'll find out, and it'll be much worse for both of you. "
I stay silent.
"Fine. If that's how you want it," he snaps, grabbing my arm and leading me toward his office. "You're going to the hole. And you're staying there until you talk. I'll get someone from medical to check on you. Jesus Christ."
I say nothing, but I'm seconds from vomiting.
He calls a guard to take me. This guy is big like a bear, giant stomach, arms the size of my thighs, a beard so thick I can barely see the rest of his face. He grabs my arm. I look back at Griff, ready to start begging, but the words don't come.
We go to a place I've never been before, in the admin wing.
Downstairs, like we're heading to a garage, but we reach a hallway full of locked doors.
He picks one, unlocks it with a bunch of keys, and shoves me inside.
Then locks it again, leaving me alone. The whole thing takes less than two minutes.
The room has just a bed. Not even a toilet.
They want to control even our bathroom time.
The only upside to being alone is that I finally get to cry.
Really cry. I haven't cried this much since…
ever. Not when my mom died, not when I got busted, not even when my dad forgot my birthday because he was too drunk to care.
But here, everything hurts so much and I'm so low that the tears won't stop.
I cry until I'm practically dehydrated, and with no water, I just keep sobbing, lying on the bed, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do.
I miss Ethan so much it's a physical ache. He wouldn't have let this happen, and I'm so pathetic for thinking that. He says all the time I'm his responsibility, but actually, I should be able to take care of myself. But I can't, and now I'm in the hole.
A nurse comes in. A disinterested guy with glasses and red hair. He looks at my injuries, assesses that I'm fine, gives me some Tylenol, and says they'll let me take it every six hours. I almost beg him not to leave me here. But he does.
I realize I'm going to lose it if I don't keep busy.
I force myself to sleep because time passes quicker that way.
But falling asleep isn't easy when you haven't burned off any energy.
So, I start the most brutal workout I can manage in that tiny space without killing myself because of the pain.
Push-ups till my arms shake, sit-ups, jumping jacks, anything until I collapse.
I also force myself to sleep by breathing fast through my mouth; it drops my blood pressure, and with the exhaustion from the workout, I can finally crash.
I start living for those moments when they let me out.
Every three hours, they open the door for the bathroom.
One shower a day. Three meals, morning, noon, night, and a bit of time in the sun on a small, fenced-off patch of grass, far from the rest of campus.
I don't talk to anyone there, and they don't talk to me.
Time crawls. I wreck myself with exercise just so I can sleep until the next time they let me out.
It's enough to keep me sane for a while. I don't know how long it'll last.
I lose all track of time. No idea how many days go by. It feels like forever, but judging by the number of meals, it can't be more than a couple of days. It feels never-ending. I'm sure I'll just die here, stuck in a limbo where time doesn't pass, every minute torturous and infinite.
One day, Griff shows up at my door. I'm lying down but jump to my feet when I see him.
"You can come out," he says, motioning me to follow. I can hardly believe it. Sounds like a dream. I try to talk, but all I do is follow his steps, trailing behind him, completely disoriented.
He's silent. Still seems pretty mad. He leads me to his office and goes straight to the point.
"Are you ready to talk, or do you want another stint in there?"
My eyes widen. I can't believe he's still pressing. My bruises are still fading, which means I can't have been in the hole too long, but they mostly don’t hurt anymore. "I can't tell you," I say, and before I can stop myself, I add, "or he'll literally kill me."
"That won't happen. Our institution won't allow it."
Sure. I want to say something smart, but I don't get the chance. Griff points a finger right at my face, and I feel it flush hot.
"You have until tomorrow to tell me, or it's another week in the hole. And so on, and so forth. Got it?"
I nod. My mouth is dry. I don't think I could say anything.
"You'll get one day to remember how good it feels out here. I want you to reflect on your choices. Come on."
I nod again.
He walks me back to my room and opens the door, then closes it, locking us there. It's Quiet Time, and when Jack sees me, he yells and jumps up to hug me. Even Miles sits up on his bunk and smiles. Harry waves, wearing that big smirk that means he's about to make fun of me.
But who I really want is Ethan.
And I've never seen that expression on Ethan’s face before.
He's about to cry.
That's the only way to describe it. He looks like he's fighting back tears, eyes watering, bottom lip quivering. My heart races. I hug Jack briefly, ignore Harry, and go to Ethan.
He hugs me so tightly I start crying, both from the pain exploding across my bruised ribs and from how fucking much I've missed him. His body is so big next to mine, so solid and comforting. His scent, his warmth.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he whispers, kissing the top of my head, burying his face in my hair.
"I'm sorry," I say, still crying, still hugging him. I never want to let go. The safety of his arms. How good he feels.
"What happened, baby?" he asks, softly, searching my eyes for answers. I want to lie. I want to tell him the same thing I told Griff. But I don't have it in me. I'm just so sad and so tired.
"Garrett got me alone one day," I whisper.
"I'm gonna kill him."
I've never seen Ethan like this. Pure rage takes over his body. He starts shaking. I can feel the goosebumps on his skin. His breathing goes shallow, nostrils flaring. He looks like he's seconds from going there, right now, and actually murdering Garrett.
"No! No, please, you can't tell him I told you. He can't find out! He's going to kill me! He said he would, and he actually almost killed me. He could have," I tell him, and I'm so desperate I'm shaking too.
Ethan looks at me, the anger evaporating when he sees me on the verge of a breakdown. He hugs me again immediately, petting my hair, shushing me.
"It's okay, baby," he whispers, and I don't think he cares if the others hear. "I've got you. Daddy's here. I'm going to take care of it. You don't have to worry."
"No! I mean it!" I exclaim, tears starting again. I feel sick. I really need to vomit. Really, really.
"Shh," he says, holding me against his chest. I can hear his heart beating, and it grounds me immediately. "It's okay. I'm here. You're okay."
"Griff said I have to tell him by tomorrow, or I go back to the hole for another week," I say, barely making sense because I'm crying so hard it's difficult to speak.
"Hey, hey, shh. It's okay," he says. "I've got you."
"You can't tell him, Ethan, please!" I feel completely desperate.
"Don't think about this anymore, baby," he says. "I told you I'll handle it, okay?" I don't answer. He grabs my chin, gently, and makes me look at him. "Okay?" he repeats.
I nod. I'm sure I'm pouting.