When All the World Sleeps

by J. A. Rock

  Daniel’s rage was too big for his body. It split him as it poured out, hurt him so bad, he let out a high-pitched sound, somewhere between a scream and a snarl. He shoved Clayton back, harder. “You leave Belman out of this. This is between you and me, and I’ll be there tomorrow. You name your time. I won’t lose, you fucker, you animal. You thought I lost last time, but I didn’t, did I?” He was inches from Clayton’s face, and he saw that fear again. That’s right. That’s right, you don’t fuck with a killer. He lowered his voice. “I’m still fucking here.”

  Clayton took a step back. “Won’t even be enough left of you for that pig to fuck, when I get done.” He planted his palm on Daniel’s chest and dragged it slowly down his shirt in a fucked-up parody of the way Bel might have touched Daniel, the heel of his hand grinding over Daniel’s nipple. Daniel didn’t flinch. Didn’t fucking blink. Refused to back down as Clayton left a faint trail of red from just above Daniel’s heart to the end of his ribs. When he was done, he deliberately held Daniel’s gaze for a moment.

  Then he spat on the ground, turned, and walked back to his truck. “Three o’ clock,” he called.

  * * *

  Daniel spent the rest of the day in a state of numb panic. Reminded him of the nights he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but lie awake and worry. He’d worry this was how his entire future would be spent—chained to a bed and waiting for nightmares. He’d worry about his parents, his sister, worry about Kenny Cooper’s family, because even if Kenny had been evil, his family had probably loved him. Sometimes his biggest worry was that his own family still loved him, deep down, and that they’d be better off letting that go.

  There was rarely any sharpness or definition to the panic, it was just an even layer of fear Daniel couldn’t get out from under.

  That was what he felt right now, and he hated it. If he had to be afraid, had to be angry, he wanted to feel the bite of it. He wanted to hurt.

  Bolton Farm was only a couple of miles from the field where Kenny had tortured him. It was near the river too—not the part Daniel had gone to as a kid with Casey and her friends, but the south end where the water was darker, dirtier, full of rocks.

  “You coming in?” The echo of Bel’s voice.

  Bel believed in him. Bel didn’t think he was an animal or a monster. If Bel knew Daniel was planning to meet with Clayton, he wouldn’t let him go. Wouldn’t matter what Daniel told him about wanting to fight this fight, about needing to settle things with Clayton. Bel wouldn’t understand. He was too young, and—Daniel felt a flash of anger—he didn’t know. Didn’t know what it was like to try to beg for your life with a broken jaw and a tongue cut nearly in two by your own teeth. Didn’t know what it was like to wake up and be told you’d killed someone. To live in fear for years of what you are. To have nightmares each night, to be hated by everyone, to drink your own piss, to need so much and be given so little, fuck, shit, he just didn’t know.

  Bel cared about Daniel, but he didn’t know what it was to love. To love fiercely and constantly, to have love be your lifeline, the only thing pulling you up when you were being dragged under again and again.

  Daniel knew that kind of love.

  And that was why he had to face Clayton without Bel. Because if there was one thing that might redeem Daniel in this world, it was his love for Bel. Maybe there was a God and maybe there wasn’t, but Daniel had to trust that if he was meant to live a life free of Clayton McAllister, a life with love in it, then he’d win tomorrow. And it he wasn’t meant to, well . . .

  Maybe there won’t be enough left of me to regret.

  It wasn’t just Bel, either. If Ms. Davenport found out he’d been in a fight, there went his parole record. If Casey found out, or his mother . . .

  They’re already ashamed. And Ms. Davenport’s just doing her job—she doesn’t really care about you. Bel’s the only one you can still lose. And if you win tomorrow, you get to keep him. And Clayton won’t bother you anymore.

  It occurred to Daniel that Clayton was hardly someone Daniel could trust to keep his word.

  Gotta put the fear of God in him. Gotta win big. Make him scared of me. Can’t just win—gotta break him.

  Daniel took a hose to his car. The paint came off pretty easily—and it was paint, not blood. Clayton had lied, and that spurred his rage in a way nothing else could have. Daniel wasn’t crazy. What Daniel had seen was real, and Clayton would pay for making him believe otherwise, even for a moment.

  There were a few spots where it had been laid on thick and Daniel couldn’t get it all off. He ended up pulling the car up closer to the cabin to hide the front of it and hoped Bel wouldn’t look too closely.

  He went inside and tried to work on his computer until Bel arrived, but he couldn’t concentrate. Kept thinking about lying to Bel, keeping secrets from him. Losing him.

  Fuck you, Bel, get over here already. Fuck me. Hurt me. Please, fucking please make it hurt. I deserve it. I need it. Tell me, Bel. Tell me I’m getting what I deserve. Make me sleep. Hurt me ’cause I can trust you to do it. You don’t hate me.

  If you don’t hurt me, I’ll do it. I’ll kill him.

  Daniel was suddenly lying on his back on the bed, stroking his cock. When the hell had that happened? He blew out a shuddering breath. “Hurt me,” he whispered to the ceiling.

  Bel wouldn’t hurt him. Bel would fuck him rough, but Bel wouldn’t hurt him. Bel would feel too guilty.

  I could help him. If he doesn’t know he’s hurting me, he doesn’t have to feel bad about it.

  Daniel stood and went to the bathroom. His legs shook. He pulled the bag out from under the sink. Found the biggest plug he owned. Black silicone, over two inches in diameter at the widest point, not the best-made product. The core was slightly lopsided, which had always made getting it in harder, even when Marcus did it slowly, with lots of lube.

  Daniel stared at it. He hadn’t used it in ages. And he’d never put it in dry. He’d fucked himself dry with other stuff, but this . . .

  Too big.

  He could use something smaller.

  But I ain’t a coward. I want it to hurt.

  Could use a little lube. Some spit, at least. Don’t want it to take too long to heal.

  He’d just have to be careful tonight not to let Bel figure out what he’d done. He’d keep the lights off. Get Bel to fuck him facedown, so if Daniel had to cry or muffle a scream, he’d be able to without Bel seeing.

  Wasn’t the most appealing idea, but Daniel didn’t know any better way to make sure every thrust hurt the way he deserved to hurt.

  He took the plug back into the main room and set it on the bed.

  * * *

  “You telling me the case is closed?” Bel asked.

  Uncle Joe gave him the same look he’d given him the time he was three and rode his tricycle into the back of a parked pickup truck. “I’m telling you that there’s no forensic evidence, no confession, and no witnesses.”

  Bel rested his hands on his utility belt. “No witnesses? Maybe I saw Clayton’s truck the night of the fire after all.”

  Uncle Joe looked around to make sure there was nobody close-by. “I think the window of opportunity’s closed on that, Little Joe.”

  Bel frowned, but he knew Uncle Joe was right. You didn’t remember a thing like that weeks afterward, and not once you’d started sleeping with the victim. “They get away with setting that fire, they’ll try something worse next time.”

  “I know that.” Uncle Joe drummed the desk. “Listen, you talked to your folks yet?”

  “’Bout what?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it ain’t nobody’s business but mine,” Bel said.

  Uncle Joe narrowed his eyes. “Thought you were smarter than that, Little Joe. No, not smarter. Tougher.”

  “Nobody’s business but mine,” Bel repeated. “Whole fucking town knows anyhow.”

  “Well maybe your parents oughta hear it from you,” Uncle Joe said. “
What are you ashamed of?”

  “I’m not ashamed!”

  Uncle Joe folded his arms over his chest. “Is that so? Tell me this then, if it was some other man you were seeing, would you tell them?”

  Bel opened his mouth to answer and couldn’t. Shit. I would. I’m not ashamed of being gay, but I’m ashamed of being with Daniel Whitlock.

  “That ain’t fair, Uncle Joe,” he said. “You know what this town is like, what it thinks of him. Hell, I thought it myself not so long ago.”

  “I know I’ve shut my mouth every time Dav spoke up about him,” Uncle Joe said. “’Cause it ain’t worth the hassle. I’m not a crusader like that girl, but I saw Whitlock after he was arrested. Interviewed him a few times. Knew there was something not right about him.” He showed Bel his palms. “Knew he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t remember what happened, I mean. Figured he was crazy, and figured a good lawyer would show the court that. But then they said he ain’t crazy, he’s sleeping. Well, hell if I know the difference, but I tell you one thing: you can sometimes cure crazy. Can’t cure sleeping.”

  Bel thought about Daniel the night of Kenny’s vigil, insisting that he was awake, and yet begging Bel to protect him from phantoms. Thought of how the night before Daniel had been drawing furiously, talking furiously, and laughing at something only he could hear.

  Bel wasn’t sure he could tell the difference between crazy and sleeping either.

  Uncle Joe put a hand on his shoulder. “Little Joe, you got no future with him. Not in this town.”

  Bel flinched.

  “Make of that what you will,” Uncle Joe said. “And then head on home. I ain’t paying overtime for this.”

  Bel, still smarting, headed for the locker room to change out of his uniform. He’d known what being with Daniel would do to his reputation, and kidded himself that it didn’t matter. Avery was in the locker room getting ready for his shift.

  “Hey, Bel,” he said, but didn’t look at him.

  Hard to know if it was because he was lacing his boots, or because he just didn’t want to make eye contact.

  And that’s how it’s gonna be now. You’ll second-guess every goddamn interaction you have. You put yourself on Daniel’s side, now you’re gonna see what it’s like for him.

  Bel changed quickly, slammed his locker shut, and headed outside to the parking lot. It was just on dusk. Maybe he ought to swing by Harnee’s and pick up something he and Daniel could microwave for dinner, since neither of them were much for cooking. Or maybe he’d just drive straight out to the cabin and worry about food later.

  “Little Joe, you got no future with him.”

  Well fuck the future. He needed Daniel now. Maybe they’d get the markers out and he’d write the word across Daniel’s heart that he’d only ever had the courage to say when Daniel was sleepwalking: love.

  You gonna call it that already, Bel?

  Bel gripped the steering wheel and frowned at the road. But what the fuck was already? How old did a thing have to be before you put that label on it? And why did the word have so many expectations? Didn’t matter how it started. Didn’t even matter if it crashed and burned. It was still what it was.

  Except what if it was just his own stubbornness pushing him into thinking it was love? What if it felt like more than it was because the town had forced him to pick a side? If nobody gave a fuck, would it still feel as intense?

  Would be nice to find out.

  Bel pulled up in front of the cabin just as the dusk was softening into darkness. The lights were on inside. Bel didn’t even knock before entering, just opened the door to find Daniel kneeling there.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said.

  Daniel looked up. “Bad day?”

  “Long day,” Bel said. “Spent most of it looking forward to this.”

  Daniel smiled.

  “You gonna stand up and show me how glad you are to see me?” Bel asked.

  Daniel rose awkwardly.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel stepped into Bel’s embrace and kissed him. “I’m good, Bel.”

  “You’re wearing too many clothes,” Bel told him, catching Daniel’s belt in his hands and tugging it open. Fuck, but he liked this. He liked being aggressive like this. He liked telling Daniel what he wanted as much as Daniel liked being told. He popped the button on Daniel’s jeans, pulled the zip down, and reached inside to grip Daniel’s cock through his underwear. “You hard for me yet?”

  “Getting there,” Daniel moaned, his breath hot against Bel’s throat.

  “Yeah, you are.” Bel guided him over to the bed and pushed him down. He tugged Daniel’s jeans and underwear off, and Daniel squirmed out of his shirt. Bel stripped quickly, grabbing a condom and lube from the drawer beside the bed. “You ready for me?”

  “Yeah.” Daniel reached up for him. “Right now.”

  Bel knew Daniel liked the sting when they fucked hard and fast. Went off like a firecracker. Bel rolled the condom on, slathered himself in lube, and knelt over Daniel. Daniel hooked his legs around Bel’s ass, urging him closer.

  “Fuck,” Bel whispered as his cock breached Daniel.

  Daniel flinched underneath him, his breath hitching.

  Bel stilled. “You okay?”

  Daniel squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. Keep going.”

  Bel stared at Daniel’s drawn face, and at the tears caught in his eyelashes. Something wasn’t right. What the hell? He pulled back.

  Blood. Blood on Daniel’s ass, now smeared all over Bel’s cock. Blood and lube, shiny and stark.

  “Fuck, Daniel!” Bel’s guts churned. “What the fuck!”

  “It’s okay,” Daniel said, reaching for him. “Fuck me, Bel, please.”

  Bel stepped away, running his hands through his hair. “No. You fucking tell me what you’ve done!”

  Daniel sat up, wincing. “It’s nothing. I just wanted it to hurt, that’s all. I just used a plug.”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s okay,” Daniel said, breathless. “You’ve got a condom. It’s safe.”

  “Fuck,” Bel managed. “It ain’t about that! You want me to fuck you when you’re bleeding? When you’re hurting? You want me to feel like a fucking rapist?”

  “No.” Daniel pulled the sheet over himself with shaking hands. “No, Bel . . .”

  “That’s some sick shit, Daniel.” Bel ripped the condom off. “You want to get raped, you go talk to that asshole you picked up online. I ain’t doing that for you.”

  “Please,” Daniel said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You ain’t sorry!” Bel began pulling his clothes on. “And you ain’t fucking sleepin’ this time. You know, Daniel, I looked up a whole lot of stuff on the internet for you, to be what you needed, but you don’t even fucking know what you need. If you got off on it, maybe I could wrap my head around it. But you don’t get off on it, do you? That’s why you couldn’t stick it out with your boyfriend from the city. You’re a fucking head case, and that’s got nothing to do with sleepwalking. That’s just you. I don’t know what the fuck you need, but until you can figure out the difference between fucking and fucking yourself up, we ain’t doing this.”

  “Yes, Bel,” Daniel whispered.

  “I ain’t . . .” Bel scowled, his anger dying in the face of Daniel’s defeated tone. “I ain’t saying we’re done, I’m saying we ain’t doing this. You hear the difference?”

  Daniel stared at his lap. “Yes.”

  “Tell me,” Bel said, feeling like a bully but needing to know that Daniel understood. “Tell me the difference.”

  Daniel opened his mouth. Hesitated. “I’m not sure, Bel.”

  Bel took a deep breath. Normal people didn’t need this. Normal people didn’t need to be told why it wasn’t okay to stick a nail file in your hand or put a plug up your ass so big it tore you. This was the sort of shit crazy people did.

  Bel sat on the bed next to Daniel. Daniel flinched. “Uh-uh,”
Bel said softly. “You don’t have to look like that. It’s me.”

  He wanted to touch Daniel. Wanted to take his hand or something, but his body was still crawling with the memory of Daniel’s blood on the condom. He felt as sick as he had when Daniel’d come on to him asleep. Like he was a rapist. Like he was taking advantage of Daniel. He kept his hands on his thighs.

  “I’d leave,” Bel said. “Right now, I’d walk out that door. That’s how angry I am. Except I don’t think I can trust you alone.”

  “Well, I’m angry too.”

  Bel glanced at him.

  “It’s my body. My fuckin’ body, and I’ll do whatever I want with it.” Daniel’s voice was hard.

  “So you’re gonna fuck yourself up just because you can, is that it?”

  “Better’n someone like Kenny Cooper doing it for me!”

  “No,” Bel said. “You listen. I ain’t playin’ down what happened to you. But that’s over now. Why would you wanna do the same shit to yourself those guys did to you? Huh?”

  “It ain’t just that! You don’t know fuckin’ anything. In prison doctors do whatever the fuck they want. They don’t care if the pills they give you make you crazy. If you ain’t normal, everyone else gets to decide what to do to you. Well fuck that!”

  “Calm down.”

  Daniel jerked away. “I don’t want to. You like this shit well enough to beat my ass in the orchard. So it’s only okay if you’re the one hurting me? But if I do it, suddenly I’m a psycho?”

  Bel stood, anger seizing him. He pointed at Daniel. “That was a game. That was a game we were playin’, and don’t you dare twist it into something else. I liked it because I thought you liked it.”

  “I do like it. And I like it to hurt when I fuck, and I like to bleed.”

  “No you don’t! You do it because you . . .”