Chapter 61
The light switched off.
Rhys had nearly been asleep, but his eyes popped open, and he swore his heart started racing. Like he’d tried to round all the bases on a ball in play. Shit, shit, shit.
It was fine. He was fine. It was a dark room. No one had locked him in a damn closet.
His chest hurt.
He sat up, trying to disentangle himself from Mel without waking them. It felt like the room wavered. Lightheaded. Needed to breathe.
Just leave. Now. Before anyone sees you like this.
Just because Rhys left a lamp on in the corner of his room all night didn’t mean everyone slept like that. Some people were actually normal and needed darkness to sleep. He hadn’t realized this one was on a timer. When Mel hadn’t flicked it off, he’d hoped it wouldn’t even matter.
He couldn’t get his brain, or his lungs and heart, to go back to normal. He couldn’t drag in a full breath, couldn’t get his heart rate to slow down. Couldn’t get his damn brain to shut up already.
He was fine, he was fine, he was fine.
Rhys tried to ease off the bed but it became more of a lurch and he stumbled out into the living room.
Leave. Leave. Leave. Before they see you fall apart.
At least a light remained on under the cabinet in the kitchen. He needed more. He flicked the switch on the kitchen wall and waited for light to flood over him. Then, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water.
“Rhys?” Mel’s scratchy voice came from the bedroom doorway. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” His voice came out higher than he expected. Like he was a little boy again. “Yeah,” he said again. “Couldn’t sleep. Just getting a drink. Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Mel didn’t return to the bedroom. Instead they came over to him and put a hand over his. “You’re shaking,” they said gently. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, not looking at them. He was twenty-six goddamn years old. No way he could still be scared of the dark. Certainly no way he could tell them. Mel would laugh him out of their house.
“That isn’t true. It’s pretty obvious something is going on. You don’t have to tell me, though. Do you want to sit on the couch with me?”
“You aren’t going to push? You don’t believe me, but you aren’t going to force me to talk about it?”
“I’m not your therapist,” they said. “I’ve seen how that can backfire with the kids at the center. If you want to talk to me, I’ll listen, but I’m not going to force you to do anything.”
He could only stare at them for a long moment, not quite able to make it all compute. The few times he’d slept over with someone else, they thought they should be privy to all his thoughts and feelings.
Except Alfie. Rhys just hadn’t expected the same from Mel. He shouldn’t be thinking about Alfie. Not when he was here with Mel.
Instead of leaving as he would have if anyone else caught him falling apart—and a voice shouted very loudly in his head that’s exactly what he should do before Mel saw how much of a mess he was—he followed Mel over to the couch and sank down beside them.
He could feel his hand trembling, and he pressed it against his thigh.
Mel was silent as they settled against him.
They put a hand on his knee and squeezed lightly.
“It’s stupid.” The words rushed out of him.
“I shouldn’t be like this. It’s been twenty years, or nearly that at least. I think the last time was when I was seven.
Maybe eight. I was taken out of that home shortly after my eighth birthday.
Or at least what they decided was my birthday.
It's hard to know when your mother abandons you with nothing but some clothes with your name in them. It was the day I was put into the system, though, so they figured it was close enough.”
Mel didn’t say anything, just leaned against him. It didn’t feel like they were leaning on him, more like they were offering him the support he needed right now. That was probably fanciful. It was just the way they sat there. It didn’t have to mean anything.
“I wasn’t a good kid,” he finally said. “I couldn’t sit still, I sucked at following directions. I forgot what the rules were, especially those first few years. I got moved around a lot, and each house was different. I probably deserved every punishment I got.”
“Rhys.”
He wasn’t sure he could handle the sympathy in their voice, so he hurried on.
“My foster mother got tired of me doing… something. I don’t even remember.
I was six, I think. She dragged me to a closet and shut me in there.
I don’t know how long. Until I stopped crying, at least. The last time, Simon Molson, he was the firefighter who found me as a toddler, he’d come over to visit.
He’s the one who opened the door. He was so angry. I thought at me.”
“I would hope not. That’s not discipline, Rhys. That’s abuse.”
Rhys didn’t have vivid memories of that foster mother, or the other kids who’d been in the house at the time.
But, he remembered that day. “Simon said that as well. I was a handful. Even the social worker told him that. I was moved to a new home after, and I couldn’t…
I’ve never been able to sleep completely in the dark.
A TV, lamp, something or I can’t get my brain to stop screaming at me.
It’s always driven any roommates I had nuts.
When there isn’t another option, if it bothers them too much, I just… lie there.”
Mel turned toward him and swept hair away from his face. “I wish you would have told me. “I could have shut the timer for that lamp off and left it on. I usually fall asleep before it turns off, so it’s not like it bothers me.”
A shudder ran through him. “I hate that I’m this weak. I—”
They pressed their thumb to his lips then replaced it with their lips. “It does not make you weak. You were traumatized as a kid. No one should ever have to go through something like that. She shouldn’t have been allowed to have any foster kids.”
“It’s not like she beat us. We were fed, clothed, went to school.
It kept us out of group facilities.” Not that it helped him in the long run.
He’d still ended up there because of… No.
He was not going there. He was already enough of a mess.
If Mel knew his past was coming back to haunt him, they wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
If they even would now. When he couldn’t get over something so simple.
“You shouldn’t have to be grateful for being given the basic necessities," Mel said vehemently. “Any parent should give those without expecting something in return.”
Which he’d often told Brock about his own family. His situation was different. None of those families brought him into this world. The person who had hadn’t even wanted him. Why should he be surprised he was too much for everyone else as well?
“Even with that,” Mel spat out, “it doesn’t make it less abusive to lock you in a fucking closet. No kid deserves that. I don’t care if they misbehave. You deserved better.”
Rhys’s breath caught, and his eyes blurred. He brushed moisture away from under his eyelid and stood quickly. “I need to use the bathroom.” He hurried down the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Why did he have to be such a mess? Crying because Mel was being kind to him?
He needed to pull his shit together before he ended up screwing this up as well.