Chapter Eight
Mr. Edwards
There was a reprieve after that. For a week everyone left Eli alone, but Samuel was uneasy. Things didn’t feel settled. It was the kind of break that felt more like a tactical retreat than true surrender.
It was evening, about one hour before lights out, when Eli came to him with an odd request.
“Hey puppy, can I borrow some underwear?”
Samuel was blushing before his brain had even fully deconstructed the request. “Underwear?” he repeated, sure he’d heard wrong.
Eli scratched at his neck. That by itself was a red flag. It was rare for the man to show any sign of awkwardness. “Mine, uh, seem to be missing.”
Samuel set down the sheets he was holding. He always did Rat’s sheets when he washed his own, otherwise the man would never do them. He was kind of gross that way. Nothing like Eli, who washed his sheets even more frequently than he did. “What do you mean ‘missing?’”
“It, um, happens sometimes. Usually it’s the stuff already in my laundry bag, but this time—”
His vision went strange, intensifying to the point of pain for a single flash.
“Are you trying to tell me—” He had to pause as his anger threatened to strangle him.
“That some pervert has been—” nope. He couldn’t do it.
He had to punch something. Preferably several somethings.
Maybe he’d steal Nathaniel’s move. His hands were already clenching, craving a shitty metal folding chair.
But no. He couldn’t be violent. Eli had gotten so angry at him for it.
Would get angry again. But he couldn’t stand down.
Wouldn’t stand down. Even just picturing Nathaniel’s horrified face as he told him about what had happened was going to put him out of his mind.
He seized the first mattress that wasn’t his own, ripped it off the bunk, and launched it across the room.
It hit one of the other bunks with a solid WHUMP.
That caught attention, and heads jerked up all around the room.
But attention wasn’t enough. He needed a scene.
He went to the next mattress and ripped that off too.
Then he seized the shower caddy beside it and shook everything in it out onto the floor.
“Hey!” It was Eli. “What are you—”
He shook off the arm and continued his pillaging.
He launched mattresses, ripped open food stores, dumped out laundry bags, and generally wreaked havoc with everything he touched.
He was getting a lot of attention. The door of the observation room slammed open, and then Jameson and Alvaro were making their way toward him double-time.
It would have to be enough.
He made himself look as big and crazy as possible—as big and crazy as he’d been the night of the ear incident—and spoke through clenched teeth.
“Thompson and I are going to go on a five-minute walk. And if my husband’s underwear isn’t back on his bed by the time we return, I’m going to find the one responsible and rip the guts straight out of his asshole!
” He thundered out the last words, and they seemed to bounce back to him at twice the volume.
He didn’t wait for any response, only seizing Eli’s hand as he marched straight out of the dormitory. Eli, bless him, didn’t say anything until they made it to the closet, but as soon as they did—oh boy.
“What the fuck , Fuller?”
Samuel was still too angry himself for composure, so he didn’t bother.
He kicked at the wall and swore as creatively as he could manage.
Sometimes that helped. Eli didn’t give him long enough to find out.
The man yanked him back around and leaned into his space.
“Are you crazy? I told you to back down. That I’d take care of—”
“You didn’t. Because you can’t. Nobody can. These fuckers will push and push and they don’t stop pushing. Even if you kill one, another pops up in its place. They never stop.”
He expected Eli to shout back. To really lay into him. But there was nothing. Just the harsh sound of his own breathing, and then—
“What did he do to you?” Eli’s voice was soft. So soft he barely heard him. But he felt him, because Eli stepped into the last of his space and pressed a hand to the side of his neck. “The one who hurt you. Who made it so you jump every time I come close. Who did this, puppy?”
He could have said anything. He could have said nothing. Hell, he could have gone back to kicking the wall. Instead he did the thing he was least expecting.
He told the truth.
He didn’t mean to. What was the point? It was such a stupid story, and about such a stupid boy, one who didn’t know the first thing about the world. He hated that boy he’d been. How weak and dumb and gullible he’d been. Hated even remembering he had once been that way.
But Eli had asked, and somehow, that one simple question was enough to bring it out.
No one but his sister had ever asked before.
He told him about sixth grade and his stupid crush.
Staying late after classes. “He had beautiful hands,” he found himself saying.
“I was always staring at them. Big and square and with perfectly even nails. I didn’t hear a word he said the first week of classes.
” Mr. Edwards. “Call me Colin .” What a thrill those words had given him.
He’d thought himself so special. Just because he was a pretty child and a little intelligent.
Stupid. So stupid. Jenny would never have been so stupid.
“It was during spring break when he invited me over. Or maybe I invited myself over. It’s weird how I can’t remember anything about that call except for the phone ringing.
But I went. And I was happy to go. Nervous, yeah, but in a good way.
I tried everything in my closet before I settled on jeans and a T-shirt, because I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.
I remember it was my Aerosmith shirt because I thought he would like that.
And I had to go back to the house after going three blocks because I’d accidentally worn my heelies, and I had to change them, because I wanted to seem grown up.
” The words had been stumbling at first, but he was building confidence with the telling, and the words were coming faster.
“When I got to the house, my hands were sweating. I had to wipe them on my ass before I rang the bell. He answered the door right away and he wasn’t wearing anything on his feet.
I remember how that had shocked me, seeing him like that, my teacher’s bare feet.
It made him so real, you know? A side to him no one else in the class had ever seen. I was sure of it. God, I was stupid.”
Eli didn’t say anything, didn’t contradict him. They were sitting against the wall with their backs to it, side by side. Had he sat down himself, or had Eli led him there? He couldn’t remember. The moment didn’t feel quite real.
“He made us tea. I’d had tea before, but only fruit tea, the kind my mother liked.
But he made us real tea, English tea, with milk and sugar and biscuits.
It was all so grown up, and I felt so good because he wasn’t talking to me like I was a kid.
I remember making him laugh and being so proud of myself.
Like that was some kind of accomplishment.
Though he probably would have laughed anyway, even if it wasn’t funny.
It was there at the table that he touched me for the first time.
Well, the first time he seemed to do it on purpose.
He’d brushed my skin before, touched my arm, things like that.
But at the table he touched my face and told me I was the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.
And I— fuck— I was so happy. I had never been happier about anything before in my life.
I thought I would die, I was so happy. That’s what I thought.
That I was lucky because the man I loved thought I was beautiful.
It made me brave, being that happy. So I got up from the table, went to his chair, and kissed him.
Me. I did it. I initiated. That’s what people don’t understand.
Everything that happened after that—everything—was because of that.
I’m sure of it. If I hadn’t done that, or If I’d stood up and walked out of his apartment, nothing else would have come of it.
He would have pretended he’d never touched me, and there would have been no story.
But I kissed him. It was my fault. I brought it on myself. ”