6. River
CHAPTER 6
RIVER
I could feel myself splintering under the store’s bright lights. Oh god, the oppressive noise. The children. The air conditioning. The sound of the voice over the tannoy speaker. It was too much. Too loud. Too busy. Too everything.
For years, I’d longed to escape the walls of my cage, but now I craved them. Even contained and restrained as I was, I knew who I was. But now, I was lost in the open waters and sinking fast. I needed darkness and isolation. Silence. I could handle pain—I’d endured it for years. But life? That was too much.
Cold air pricked my skin as I sunk into the darkness as I slowly shut down, cutting off the world that was paralyzing me. My heart hammered so hard that it was permanently etched into my bones. Tears carved their way down my cheeks as inhales and exhales sawed their way out of my lungs.
“It’s okay, angel. I’ve got you.”
A whimper caught in the back of my throat, choking me as his soft words whispered in my ear. Was I flying or sinking? I couldn’t tell. But I was moving, and moving fast, until the slam of the car door granted me blessed silence.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, River. It was a stupid idea.” I wanted to reach out to him. To reassure him it wasn’t his fault, it was mine. I was the broken one, the one who couldn’t act like a normal person no matter how much I tried. I’d been conditioned into a being that wasn’t human.
I didn’t remember if I fell asleep or passed out as my mind spiraled out of control, but as I came to and peeled my heavy lids open and the world came into focus, I realized I was somewhere new. Cocooned in soft blankets that made me feel safe, the thick scent of cedarwood and leather invaded my senses and eased the tightness that had gripped my lungs. My fingers curled around the fluffy blanket covering my mouth and pulled it down from my face, freeing my shoulders. I lifted my head from the soft cushion and shuffled from my prone position until I was sitting up and took in the room I was in.
A TV on the wall opposite flickered with a show I’d never seen, the characters moving around silently above a wooden fireplace littered with ornaments and small photo frames. An electric fire glowed below it, the red and blue flames dancing calmly as they phased in and out, illuminating the room as my eyes adjusted to the muted light.
A low level coffee table beside me contained a glass of water covered in condensation sitting on a coaster with two tablets next to it. My dry throat ached, but I was too warm in my blanket cocoon to move to ease the pain. Soft snores drifted through the otherwise silent room, pulling my eyes to Bane, where he sat rather awkwardly in an armchair, fast asleep with his head tipped back, exposing his Adam’s apple that rolled every so often in his throat. The tip of his pink tongue teased across his full bottom lip before he startled awake because his feet fell off the edge of the coffee table.
“Wh-what the who?” The shock on Bane’s face was priceless. It brought on a tentative smile that tore the fresh scab on my lip bottom as it twitched. I snickered a rasping laugh that morphed into a heaving cough that made my eyes water.
“Here,” Bane said softly, holding the glass of water in front of me as I sucked in a gasping inhale while my lungs were fighting to push the air out. “Have a sip, slowly. It’ll help.” My shaky hand wrapped around the slick glass that instantly started to slide through my fingers. Thankfully, Bane helped guide it to my mouth. The cool liquid felt like the first drops of rain following a drought as it flowed down my throat.
When I’d finished, he took the glass from me, placed it back on the table, and ran his hand through my hair. The soft rhythmical scrape of his blunt nails over my scalp soothed the ragged edges of the panic attack that still clung to me. I sighed, sinking back into my blanket cocoon. My eyes felt heavy again. Sleep called me, but I didn’t want them to close and erase the tender look on Bane’s face, and the way his mismatched eyes glinted in the dancing light from the fire.
When was the last time someone looked at me like that?
Pale morning light filtered through the blinds covering the sliding doors leading to a deck overlooking a large backyard. I rubbed away the sleep from my eyes with the heel of my hands and stretched out my aching muscles. A shiver rolled through me when I realized I was alone. It felt wrong being in Bane’s house unsupervised. It’s not like I was going to rob him, but I could run. Run where? It’s not like I had anywhere to go, but being here didn’t feel right. It felt like I was taking advantage of him, no matter why he said I was here.
“Here you go.” His large hand appeared in my line of sight, and a steaming mug of coffee taunted me. It smelled strong and rich, and had me salivating for just a taste. “Be careful, it’s hot.”
My eyes narrowed at him, letting them speak for me. I’m not a child. Bane snorted and held up his hands as mine wrapped around the cup of liquid gold. I inhaled its delicious scent and shuffled until my back rested on the armrest so I could stretch my legs out, and blew at the soft swirls of steam.
“I didn’t know how you took it, so I only added a little milk to take the edge off. But there are creamers and stuff in the fridge in the kitchen if you want, or you can have mine if you prefer it without milk,” he rambled as he sat on the couch by my feet, automatically pulling them into his lap. He froze as I eyed him over my cup. “Is this okay?” he asked.
I nodded, feeling heat rise in my cheeks as my stomach gave an almighty rumble, making me wince from the painful pang.
“Hungry?”
I shrugged instead of acknowledging his question and continued to blow on my coffee. I knew he wanted me to give them information to help their case, but there wasn’t much more I could give him, other than all the gruesome details of what the johns who had bought and used my body subjected me to. Bane was good people, and I didn’t want him to know the details of what I’d experienced. That led to only one logical conclusion—I had to leave before I broke or tainted him. I had to go.
Bane, ever the optimist, refused to let the silence stretch between us any longer. “Since our trip to Walmart didn’t go to plan last night, I thought we could do some online shopping. Get you some new clothes that fit, and all the bits you’ll need to make your room upstairs, well, yours.”
My room? I’d assumed he’d keep me here on the sofa. It wasn’t like this arrangement was permanent. Once I’d lived out my usefulness, he’d kick me to the curb, right?
“Don’t look at me like that, River.” I blanched at the hard edges of his tone. “I told you last night we’d get you some bedding.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face, shoulders dropping in defeat.
Bane lifted my feet so he could turn to face me, tucking one of his thick thighs up on the couch before he kneaded my soles with his thumbs. Fuck, that felt amazing. “River, I know I said we want you to help with the case.” I nodded along like a bobble head. “But I care about you.” I blinked in confusion, and a sad smile flickered on his striking face. “I know you don’t believe me, but you made a massive impact on my life. Those two years… they left footprints on my soul. I’ve thought about you often over the years since the Hendrix’s adopted me. I tried to get them to adopt you too, but they refused.” His sadness at that fact was palpable. I raised my eyes and pinched my lips together as if to say, what can you do? “I’m sorry I couldn’t, Riv.” He squeezed my foot to emphasize the depth of his words.
My head fell back on my shoulders, hiding the emotions burning my eyes. I couldn’t get attached again. That only led to a pain I didn’t know how to cope with, so I did what I had taught myself to do. I shut it down and locked it away in that box in my mind and added a hazard sticker to it for good measure.
Bane continued, either unaware of my internal struggle, or graciously ignoring it. “They said they adopted me because I reminded them of their son that died from leukemia on his seventeenth birthday.” I choked on a mouthful of coffee. What the fuck?! That was wrong on so many damn levels. Bane deserved to be chosen because of who he was, not because he was an imitation of a memory or a lost loved one. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but I didn’t know how to. My throat grew tight as he blinked away the glassiness coating his eyes.
“Anyway,” he went on, “They removed me from foster care and into what appeared to be the perfect home. They had—have—money, a large house, a pool.” He cracked a smile at whatever look was on my face. “But they didn’t give me a family, not even a facsimile of the one I lost. I was their stand-in. It was like they were made of cardboard, moving like shadow puppets through life. They had everything at their disposal, and Rosalie spent all of her time down at the country club while William had a mistress and his job. I never saw either of them other than Sundays for lunch at the country club, where I had to dress in the clothes Annalise—the housekeeper—laid out for me. It wasn’t a life or the family they promised me.”
An indignant snort ripped through the tense air. What I wouldn’t have given to have had that life, the one he was describing. Even with parents that had checked out mentally, it would have been better than running away at twelve and living on the streets. Raiding bins for scraps of food, hiding under bags of trash for warmth, hearing the rats scrabble around me. And when begging provided no money, working out that I could turn tricks in the back allies of bars. A quick blowjob here and there on a Friday night could give me enough cash to get a hot meal or a coat to sleep in.
Bane pinned me with those mysterious mismatched eyes of his and watched as I traced my bottom lip with my tongue. Clearing his throat, he blinked himself out of a daze. “I know it’s nothing like you’ve lived through, but I’d like to know, to understand, Riv.” He leaned forward, placing his too hot hand on my now bent knee. “I want to help you re-acclimate to the world. To find your feet. Heal.” His words sounded wonderful, but that’s all they were. Words. Empty promises. He’d soon see that I was so far beyond help. This—me—was a waste of his time and energy.
“How about we start with something simple? Clothes and a few things for your room, including a toothbrush and soap. I’m sure you’d love a shower or a bath?” Fuck me, that sounded amazing. I wanted to ask if he had hot water, since it’d been years since I had a hot shower, but I swallowed down the urge.
“Move.” Bane pushed my feet and gestured for me to sit up as he leaned over the side of the sofa and pulled a laptop onto his lap. “Grab me the cushion behind you, please.”
After setting my empty cup on the table, I passed it to him. My heart thumped as he shuffled closer to me, close enough that his thigh pressed against mine, and started tapping away on the keys. The bright screen was so different from the one I occasionally caught sight of in the apartment Dahlia kept me in. It was sleek, slimline, clearly new, and obviously expensive. I wanted to touch it as much as I was terrified to.
Caught looking at the thing like it might bite me, Bane chuckled. “Do you want to have a look? I need to get my card.” My lips parted, and my throat tightened as he placed the cushion and laptop on my lap. “Add whatever you want to the basket. You remember how to use one?” I winced. He wasn’t being malicious, but it made me feel lesser, and my hackles rose. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Bane puffed out a frustrated breath. “I wasn’t saying you couldn’t, okay? I’m just assuming it’s been a while like you were on a computer?” Bingo. I’d only had a few lessons on one in elementary school, and that felt like a lifetime ago.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” A large hand wrapped around my knee and squeezed, reassuring me. I still couldn’t unpick how it felt safe, natural even when Bane touched me, but when others did, it made me want to burn my skin off with acid. “I suck with them. Montoya—my partner—is always fixing my mess ups.” Warmth infused his eyes as I tried out the keypad and looked at the screen. “Have a look through and pick what you want and add it to the basket. I’m going to grab my wallet and get us something to eat. Bacon, eggs, and toast sound good?”
Before I realized it, Bane left me alone as I scrolled through the site, trying to work out what I needed. Maybe I should start at what size I was? I had no idea. I didn’t care if the stuff I picked was too big. Just to have something that was mine, and new, and clean, would be more than I’d ever really had. My hand shook as I scrolled through pages. Boxers or briefs? Pants or joggers? Hoodies or shirts? As for bedding, what did you need? What did a normal person have? I’d lived on a bare mattress with a threadbare blanket for so long, all this choice was too much. Scary.
What if I picked wrong and Bane didn’t like it? Don’t be stupid. He wants you to be happy and comfortable. What was happy and comfortable? My life was about surviving each day while simultaneously praying it was my last. So being thrust into a situation where I could have whatever I wanted within reason scared the shit out of me.
The salty smell of bacon saturated the air that I was trying to breathe to remain calm. Calm? What was that? I shook my hands out, like that would stop them from shaking as adrenaline spiked through me. Sweat beaded along my hairline and dripped down the back of my neck. The bright screen flashed like it was mocking me, like it knew I didn’t know what I was doing. My fingers trembled as I scrolled through the listings, and my palms grew slick. Pants, jeans, joggers, slacks, khakis. Sneakers, boots, high tops, chucks. Socks—black, white, sports, striped, dots, colored, plain. Hoodies—zipped or pull on, sweaters, cardigans, jackets. Tees, henleys, wife beaters, shirts.
So much choice, and that didn’t even include the bedding options—sheets, blankets, throws, cushions. Why did people need so much stuff? With my heart pounding and blood whooshing in my ears, I clicked on a few things, the basket filling up at an alarming rate. All I could see was dollar signs spotting my vision, while guilt and fear coiled inside me. Would Bane be upset that I’d selected so much? Had I picked the wrong things?
Being under Dahlia’s control was easy. Simple. She provided us with what we needed. If we had to dress a certain way, the clothes appeared for the appointment before disappearing again after. We were only permitted two changes of clothes that were our own. Most of it was hand-me-downs or leftovers from previous boys that had left. Even though we all knew “leaving” stood for something completely different.
Once I’d chosen clothing and bedding, I moved onto shower stuff. Razors, antiperspirant, cologne, soap, shower gel, loofahs, shampoos, and skincare. What scent did I like? Sweet, woodsy, manly, strong and lasting, or light and fragrant? It hit me then that I didn’t know who I was or what I liked. I’d never had the chance or opportunity to become my own person. I was molded into who people wanted me to be. Beaten down and shoved into a box. Controlled and forced to do things that no one would want to do willingly. I had to remember what I was. I couldn’t let Bane’s current kindness blind me to the truth. I was a hole. A body to be used.
I was nothing.
Forcing in a deep breath, I filtered through a barrage of memories of my childhood; the good, the bad, and the ugly, trying to prise out moments of happiness or scents I’d clung to that brought a modicum of warmth to the wasteland that was my soul to find out what I liked. The trouble with my line of work was that most scents made me want to bleach my nostrils and have my head examined. Every one was associated with despicable acts some john performed on me, or by the guards Dahlia employed who thought it was a great idea to sample the goods they protected. A hysterical laugh breached my lips as my brain latched on to that thought. Protect. They weren’t keeping us safe; they were controlling and cruel, selfish and self serving. If they had a bad day, they kicked and fucked the shit out of us, whether or not we were willing.
They preferred it when we weren’t.
Consent was a word people bandied around like it was a right. Since the day I was born, I’d had no rights or autonomy over my wellbeing or body. Others used me for their gain. First, it was foster carers looking for a quick buck to line their pockets and an innocent child to sink into. Then it was the drunks, the men in denial who drank themselves stupid at bars and couldn’t bear to fuck their wives because they wanted “a sweet young piece of ass to ruin.”
Later, at my lowest moment, starving and freezing in a back alley, came Dahlia. I’d been on the street for close to eighteen months by then and was on my last legs as the first frosts of winter coated the damp doorway I huddled in. I hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours a night for months, thanks to fearing for my life, and hadn’t eaten in nearly a week.
“Hello there, little guy.” I blinked through the haziness in my vision to see an elegant lady looking down at me. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, but a few soft strands framed her dark brown eyes. Blood-red lips curved in a soft smile as she lowered herself to my level. “Are you cold?” she asked softly, slowly extending her gloved hand towards me. Her thick fur coat shimmered as the icy wind whipped between the buildings. I could only imagine how warm she felt wrapped up in its softness while I sat there in stained wet jeans and a moldy jacket I’d pulled out of the dumpster outside the department store a few streets over.
I sneered at her as she patted my head like I was a lost puppy, hating the world and loathing her for showing me an ounce of empathy. I was freezing, my lips were numb, and my teeth chattered, but I clenched my jaw and refused to answer her.
“How about you come with me, hmm? I’ll get you some clean, dry clothes and something to eat. I just want to help you out.” Her minty breath fogged the air around us.
My eyes narrowed. No one ever did anything for nothing. But I couldn’t find my voice, so instead, I wrapped my arms around me tighter and shrunk against the cold steel door behind me. Maybe if I ignored her, she’d go away. Even the volunteers that helped the homeless and vagrants on the street didn’t stay this long. They dropped off food parcels and boxes of clothes, then left before the fights and bloodbaths ensued.
“Come now.” Her gloved hand latched on to my arm and pulled. “Come on. Come with me. Let’s get a hot meal in you and find you somewhere to sleep. I’ve got a pot roast on with mashed potatoes, and I might even have some chocolate cake left…” Her words filled my head with heavenly images, making my empty stomach ache. It had been so long. So, so long.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I sniffed back the snot running down my nose. I shouldn’t do this. I didn’t know her, but I was so desperate for food and warmth that the lessons I’d learned during my time on the streets vanished, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. My better judgment abandoned me, and I could feel myself caving, craving everything she’d said.
“What do you say?” She gave me a forceful tug and pulled me to my feet, my sneakers squelching in the puddle. “Here, let me look at you.” She cupped my face, turning my head from side to side before lifting my chin and stroking my neck. “You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you? Half starved and frozen to the bone, but those eyes—they’re my meal ticket. So, shall we go get you something to eat? Who knows, I might even find you a job so you can earn your keep.”
I wish I knew then what I did now. I’d have screamed and kicked, spit and slapped and bitten her to get away. Dahlia was the devil, disguised as an angel, and she knew exactly how to manipulate me to get what she wanted. She did exactly what she said—fed me, cleaned me up, and gave me somewhere warm to sleep. She gave me a new beginning, and before I knew it, I owed her for everything she’d done for me.
“It’ll only be this one time, River. My friend Jason is all alone and needs a little comfort.” Her red lips lifted as she smiled, her voice saccharine and sweet. “You’ll look after him, won’t you? Keep him company while I go out, yes? I’ll take it off the bill you’ve racked up over the last couple of months living here, eating my food and using my water and electricity.”
That was the beginning of the end. She caught me in her web, and I had no way out. Jason wasn’t a friend—he was a john, and my first. He turned into a regular until I got too big for his tastes, as he preferred them little, when they couldn’t fight back. Fragile. Broken. Sweet. Innocent. I was his kryptonite, and he was the monster I could never escape.
“River? Are you done?”