Learning Curve

by Jaxon, Andi

  I do a Google search for the pool hall we met at and call the number.

  “Ball Scratcher’s Pool Hall, this is Trisha, how can I help you?”

  “Hi Trisha, my name is Alister, and I was there a few weeks ago with a guy named Ben Wallace. Do you remember me by chance?” If she doesn’t remember me, I doubt she will give me any information.

  “Oh, yeah, of course. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I’m trying to find Ben. You haven’t seen or heard from him today, have you? I just want to know if he’s okay.” God, I sound like a crazy ex.

  “Oh. No, I haven’t. How long has he been missing?” Now she’s worried, those protective maternal instincts taking over.

  “Just like an hour, I’m probably overreacting. We were supposed to meet up, and he hasn’t shown up, his phone went straight to voicemail. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  She lets out a relieved breath. “Oh okay. I’m sure he’s fine, probably got caught up doing something.”

  “Probably, but if you see or hear from him, can you just ask him to give me a call, please?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  We say goodbye and hang up. I have a bad feeling something happened to him, but I don’t know what to do or where to look for him. Something happened to him, my gut is telling me so. What if he got lost on his way back? He could have been hit by a car and is lying in a ditch somewhere. Maybe he fell and broke his ankle, his backpack falling into water so his phone got wet. Someone kidnapped him and is going to murder him…

  This is ridiculous. I’m sure he’s fine. He knows how to navigate the city, rarely does anyone get hit by a car when they’re walking on the sidewalk, and why would anyone want to kidnap him? He’s probably just at the library or something, and lost track of time.

  Deciding I need to keep busy, I head to the kitchen and start making dinner. I’m sure he’ll be here anytime with a reasonable explanation. Pulling out the pot roast, onion, carrots, and potatoes, I get everything ready to go in the oven, pour the onion soup mix, gravy packet, and some beef brother over it all and place it in the oven. In an hour, it will be mouthwatering.

  Without much else to do, I pull out the tests from today and get to grading. Before I know it, the buzzer for the oven is going off, and I have a stack of graded tests. What if something really did happen to him? I pull the roast out of the oven and try to call him again, but I’m sent straight to voicemail. It’s time to get ahold of Kristen.

  On the laptop, I pull up Facebook and search for Kristen Collins. It doesn’t take me long to find the pretty blonde girl I met a few weeks ago. Clicking on her profile, I send her a message.

  Hi Kristen, could you give me a call? Here’s my number…

  Here’s hoping she gets the message and calls me back. Leaning back against the couch, I run through everything that happened today. Did I do something to scare him off? Is he avoiding me?

  My phone rings on the table with an unknown number, and I quickly answer it. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Alister?”

  “Yes, Kristen?”

  “Yup. What’s up?” There’s a lot of background noise where she is, so it’s hard to hear her.

  “Have you heard from Ben today?” The desperation in my voice is easy to hear, but I don’t care. I need to know he’s okay.

  “Ben? Not in a few hours. Why?”

  “I haven’t seen or heard from him in a few hours either. He should have been back from class before me, but he’s not. I called his phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. I’m starting to worry.”

  “That is weird. Look, I’m at the airport on my way up there now. If you hear from him, send me a message, I’ll get it when I land, and if I don’t get a message from you, I’ll let you know when I get there. I’m sure he’s okay. He’s a survivor.” I don’t know if she really means it or is just trying to make me feel better, but I believe her.

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  “Any time, Teach.”

  We hang up, and I head to the kitchen for food, suddenly it hits me I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I’m starving.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  BENJAMIN Ben -

  My head feels like an ice pick has been shoved through my temple. Dan brought me here, to my personal hell. Since I was drugged up, none of the hospital staff would listen when I tried to fight him, not that I was strong enough to put up much resistance. He smiled and charmed the doctor when I told him I didn’t want him in the room, and I didn’t want to be discharged to him. The doctor bought every lie, every fake smile Dan gave him. I don’t even know how long ago it was. Days? Hours?

  My entire body aches from the beating I took and from lying on the subfloor of my old room, doesn’t help that the pain medication has worn off. I’m sure he confiscated it too, I won’t ever see them.

  Since I left, he's pulled up the carpet, removed the curtains, and installed more locks on the door—all of which lock from the outside. I'm freezing. Winter in the Pacific Northwest is mostly highs in the forties and lows in the twenties. There are definitely colder places, but I have zero heat in here, no blankets or even a jacket. My fingers and toes are turning purple, and I'm sure my lips are blue. My teeth chattering hard enough that I'm worried about breaking them.

  I'm huddled into a tight ball, trying to keep my body heat in. I'm in the closet, but since he took the doors, it's not helping to keep heat in. At least I got to keep my clothes this time, though he took my shoes and socks. When I lived here, I would have to strip down to my boxers. It didn't matter what time of the year it was or what I had done to piss him off. My clothes were kept in a different room and I would have to ask him for clothes every day, or go to school in what I was given to sleep in. When I was being punished, I would have to strip my bed, fold everything, and stack it in the hallway outside my door before he locked me in. If I made a sound, any noise at all, he would come in with a leather belt and whip every inch of exposed skin he could get to. I've learned how to shut the world out, not speak for days at a time.

  Kristen knew I was abused, even called CPS a few times, but they never found anything. My bed would be back together, my clothes being kept in a different room would be explained away, and the marks on my skin would be gone. He knew someone working there, giving him a heads up and making it take weeks for a welfare check, giving him enough time to hide the evidence. The beatings afterward were always worse, Kristen stopped calling once she figured it out.

  At some point he'll give me chicken broth, probably room temperature, cold if he's really pissed off, to hold off the starvation that's looming. Unfortunately, starvation and I have been close friends for a long time. Dan knows exactly how long I can go before medical intervention is needed—he knows all the signs.

  I don't know how long I've been here, a few hours or an entire day? The pain meds have finally worn off, leaving me in more pain than I can remember ever being in. The cold certainly isn't helping. If I remember correctly, being so fucking cold will make healing take longer since blood flow will slow down as my body tries to protect the vital organs.

  What have I ever done to deserve this? At this point, I don't want some great life, to be rich and madly in love with my soulmate. All I want is to be left alone. I want a quiet life, with a job that pays well enough for me to be comfortable. I want to be able to use hot water and a heater, to be able to eat three times a day and to have a warm blanket.

  And Alister Bennett. God, do I want him. He is everything I wish I was. I would give anything to be in his apartment, warm, and safe, wrapped in his arms. I crave him. Thinking about the time I spent with him, has tears filling my eyes. I hate my life.

  The locks outside the door start turning, alerting me to the incoming shit storm. I can only imagine what Dan has planned for me. The hinges squeak as the door opens, but I don’t lift my head to look, I know he’s standing there. His steps are heavy on the floorboards as he comes closer, boots on his feet to protect him from the cold and
risk of splinters. Suddenly, frigid water is thrown at me. The shriek that leaves me is involuntary and leaves me breathless. The icy water stings my skin, somehow burning my already freezing body.

  “Why are you here, Benjamin?” His voice is grating my nerves like sandpaper.

  I know I have to come up with an answer that will satisfy him or risk more pain, but what the hell does he want me to say?

  Water hits me again, stealing what little breath I have. Apparently, I took too long to answer him. Before thinking through my answer, I blurt out, “I don’t know.” I immediately know this is not the right answer when I hear the snap of a belt seconds before it slaps my back. Unimaginable pain screams through me, the sting of the leather a minor annoyance compared to the impact on bruised skin and cracked ribs. I’m already limited in how deep of a breath I can take, each one a carefully executed plan, but it’s gone the second he strikes me.

  “Why are you here, Benjamin?” His voice is calm, as it always is. I’ve never heard him yell or even raise his voice.

  Words scramble around my mind as I try to gain control over something, my breathing, the pain, this entire fucking situation. “Um...to...to learn a lesson.”

  Chapter Forty

  ALISTER -

  Last night was restless, after tossing and turning in bed for a few hours, I got up and paced the apartment. My mind heavy with every possible scenario. I called his phone so many times that I’ve lost count, and left messages begging him to call me back. At this point, I don’t care if he never comes back here, I just want to know he’s okay and not lying in a back alley bleeding to death.

  Taking my frustration out on the treadmill didn’t work, so I took a brutally hot shower, scrubbing my skin raw just to have an outlet for the frustration and helplessness. After getting dressed and leaving a note for Ben on the counter, I head to my parents’ house. For it being a major holiday, the traffic is light, and it doesn’t take me long to get there. Alex, of course, is already here and stuffing his face with whatever Mom made for snacking this year.

  Everyone turns and looks when I walk in, expecting to see Ben with me. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Alex says around a mouthful of crackers and cheese.

  I have to take a second and swallow before I can answer. “I, um, I don’t know.” Mom comes to me and hugs me, ushering me to take a seat on the couch next to Dad. Alex walks over and plops down next to me. “What happened? Anal warts?”

  I want to laugh at the joke, but the sound comes out more like a cough. Dropping my shoulders, I look at my fingers in my lap when I reply, “I think he’s missing.”

  My brother’s demeanor instantly changes, Officer Bennet immediately taking the place of my smart-ass twin brother. “Why do you think he’s missing?” Turning to my mom, he asks her for a pen and paper to take notes.

  “He didn’t come home after class last night, and his phone goes straight to voicemail.”

  “Maybe he went to his family’s house for the holiday?” It sounds like such a simple answer, but it’s not.

  “He doesn’t have any family. He was a ward of the state.”

  “Foster parents?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know his name, but the man he lived with was abusive. There’s no way he would go there for the holiday.”

  “Friends? Hangouts?” Alex is writing down information on the paper, gathering what he can.

  “The only friend I know of is Kristen, and she just flew in late last night. I’ve talked to her, and she hasn’t heard from him either. I called the only hangout I’m aware of, and they hadn’t seen him.”

  “Full name, date of birth if you have it, description and any identifiable marks?”

  “Benjamin Wallace, I don’t know his middle name or birthday. He’s about five foot ten, a hundred and maybe thirty pounds, shaggy black hair, black eyes. And he doesn’t have any marks I’ve noticed, not even freckles.”

  Alex is still looking at the paper when he pulls out his phone. “Alright, I’ll see what I can find out. I can’t promise anything, but we might get lucky.”

  “Thanks.”

  He wanders off into the back of the house to make a phone call, and my dad hands me a beer. “I’m sure he’s alright, but if he’s not, Alex will find him.”

  I nod my head and take a long pull of the dark beer we both love. My stomach is angry, twisting and turning, and my foot is bouncing. I’m sure it’s driving my dad nuts, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps bringing me a new beer when the one I have is empty and shoving food at me. The alcohol on a mostly empty and my anxious stomach is not doing me any favors. I’m pretty sure at any moment, I’m going to be reintroduced to the contents of my stomach.

  “Okay boys, dinner is ready!” Mom’s singsong voice announces from the dining room. I stand up, and the world spins, and I stumble around the room.

  “Whoa there,” my dad says, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. “Why don’t you lay down for a while?”

  My stomach is cramping, and saliva is pooling in my mouth as we make our way down the hall. “Bathroom,” is the only word I’m able to say before the overwhelming urge to throw up hits. We make it just in time for me to hit my knees and empty my stomach into the ceramic bowl.

  Once my stomach is empty and the dry heaving stops, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. It doesn’t take long for me to doze off.

  Chapter Forty-One

  BENJAMIN Ben -

  My teeth are chattering, my arms and legs are blue, and I can see my breath when I open my eyes. The beating last night was the worst one I can remember, thanks to the previous injuries. I might actually freeze to death this time, I’ve heard it’s a decent way to go, you just fall asleep and don’t wake up. At this point, I would love to sleep instead of being knocked unconscious. It’s dark outside, but I have no idea what time or what day it is.

  Breathing is excruciating, my stomach is both hungry and nauseated, and my head is screaming from the pressure inside my skull. Pictures of Alister in my mind are the only things to keep me company, his smile when he sees me, laughing over my terrible chopping job, the way his lips feel pressed to mine when we say goodnight in bed. The urge to cry is so fucking strong but I know it will physically hurt to do, so I’m forced to hold it in. Not that holding back doesn’t hurt either.

  I don’t know how I lived before him. In the few short weeks we’ve been together, my entire world has shifted to revolve around him. He makes my life bright, and brings joy and happiness to my dark and pitiful existence. I need him. He makes my heart beat, my lungs inflate. If I ever see him again, I’m going to make sure he knows just how important he is to me. How essential he is to my happiness. How much I love him.

  Oh god. Love? Is that what I feel? I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before, besides Kristen, and that’s an entirely different feeling. He’s the first person I want to talk to when something good or bad happens. I feel safe when I’m with him. And right now, while I’m in the worst place I could imagine, he’s the only one I want. That has to mean I love him. Right?

  The sound of the locks being turned assaults my ears, my heart pounding in my broken and bruised ribcage.

  “Benjamin. I see you’re finally awake.” The voice of the devil has a smile in it. He’s enjoying my suffering, my fear. “Since it’s Thanksgiving, I’ve chosen to be nice and brought you hot chicken broth.”

  My head picks up, he’s never brought me broth that was more than room temperature before, and this is not my first holiday being locked in here. “What’s the catch?”

  “Finally, you’re showing some of the smarts I raised you to have. First, tell me why you’re here.”

  “Because bad boys must be punished.” My voice is a broken rasp. The saying cuts through me, humiliating and belittling me to the center of who I am. It’s been the same since I moved in here when I was ten. I hate it now just as much as I hated it then. I’m sure that’s the point.

  “Good boy.” When he dies, I’m goi
ng to dance on his grave. “In order to get hot broth, you have to withstand a lit cigar being put out on your skin twenty-three times, one for every year you’ve been a bad boy. Now, if you pass out, I wait for you to come back around and your broth cools. The longer it takes to get through them all, the colder it will be. The other option is getting a block of frozen broth.” He stands and waits for me the mull it over, arms folded in front of him like a schoolboy.

  “Fuck you.” I know I’m going to instantly regret the words, but maybe it will mean my death will be faster.

  He doesn’t say anything, but the belt he’s wearing is ripped from the loops and snaps against my frozen flesh, instantly raising a welt. I scream from the pain of the belt and from the deep breath against broken ribs. I’m panting and whimpering, trying to slow my breathing back down.

  “Would you like to try again?”

  “If I withstand all twenty-three burns without passing out, I want you to reheat it. I deserve it hot.”

  My eyes peek over my knees, watching him think it over. His face gives nothing away, and I hate him even more for always being so damn in control.

  “Alright, if you don’t pass out, you can have it reheated. Ready?”

  I nod and shuffle out of the closet corner, knowing he’s going to want full access to my skin. I fucking hate him. I hate everything about him. Why don’t bad things happen to the sick fucks of the world?

  “On your side, stretch out.”

  It’s not until now that I realize he must have taken my clothes while I was unconscious because now, I’m naked. It’s incredibly difficult to force my body to move, to uncurl from the tight ball I’ve been in. Every muscle in my body protests as I push my legs from my chest.