by G. R. Lyons
Colby eyed the clothes, tucking his hands under his chin again.
Vic waved his hand. “You want to try any of this on?”
Colby looked down at himself, then back at the clothes before looking up at Vic. He gave a tiny nod.
“Alright,” Vic said, giving him a smile. “I'll step out so you can get dressed, yeah?”
Colby nodded again, then watched Vic intently as he covered the window in the door and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him.
Vic waited a full ten minutes before he checked on Colby's progress, just in case the boy needed extra time to work up the nerve to change. “Hey, champ?” Vic knocked on the door. He got no response, so he asked, “Are you all set?”
He thought he heard a shy affirmative, so Vic started to turn the door handle.
“May I come in?”
Colby was still silent, so Vic inched the door open and cautiously peeked inside. He found the boy sitting on the bed, wearing only sweatpants and a t-shirt, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands tucked under his chin, giving Vic a wary look.
Vic gave him an encouraging smile in return. “Everything fit?”
Colby gave a tiny nod, then noticeably shivered.
“Here.” Vic reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt. “Why don't you put that on, too?”
Colby eyed the shirt, then slowly took it, watching Vic the whole time as he slipped it on. Once it settled into place, he looked slightly less haunted.
“If you're still cold,” Vic went on casually, pulling out a hooded sweatshirt, “you can also wear this.”
Again, Colby hesitated, but he slowly put it on, and Vic showed him how to zip it up before he gently reached past the boy to grab the hood and tug it up over the boy's head. Colby rolled his eyes up, looking at the hood, then looked back at Vic's face.
“That alright?” Vic asked.
Colby looked himself over and almost smiled. Vic helped him put on socks and shoes, then grabbed the duffel bag and zipped it shut.
“Ready to go?”
Colby looked at the door, then up at Vic, then at the door again. Vic could practically see his mind working, weighing his options, deciding what was safer. Finally, Colby slipped off the bed and huddled near Vic, his legs tight together, his head down, and his hands hidden away in his sleeves and tucked up under his chin.
Vic headed for the door, but Colby didn't follow. The boy's eyes were wide, staring at the doorway, probably imagining all the people on the other side. Vic crouched down and held out the arm not holding the bag.
Colby whimpered, then shuffled over to Vic's side and extended his arms just enough to wrap around Vic's neck while Vic slowly hooked his arm around the boy's waist, lifting Colby to perch on his hip, just like they'd done that morning. The boy clung to Vic and ducked his head, hiding his face.
“I've got you, kiddo,” Vic murmured, then turned and headed out the door.
Doctors and nurses gave him happy smiles as he made his way out of the hospital. Vic couldn't help smiling back. This was a good day. A boy rescued, a life saved. Even if the hospital staff would have to deal with the fact that one of their own had tormented the boy for nearly two decades, at least the story had a happy ending.
Vic got Colby out to his car and helped the boy into a seat, buckling the restraint for him while Colby huddled there, looking around uncertainly. Every time someone passed by, Colby flinched. Vic could almost hear the boy whimper each time it happened in the few seconds it took him to walk around to the other side of the car.
By the time Vic slid into the driver's seat, Colby was curled up in a ball, hunched down so he couldn't see anything.
“It's alright, kiddo,” Vic murmured, just stopping himself from reaching out to touch the boy. “You're safe.”
Colby whimpered, the sound muffled by his arms crossed over his head.
Poor kid. Vic switched on the car, selected his home address on the nav screen, and let the autopilot take over, wanting to have his attention on the boy just in case Colby needed anything.
The boy stayed curled up tight in his seat. Halfway home, he finally loosened his arms a little and started to peek out, then inched his head up until he could see out the front windscreen, his eyes going wide as he took in the passing scenery.
“There's so much,” he whispered. He looked up at Vic. “How is there so much?”
Vic hesitated. How could he explain that the world was so big and full when all the boy had ever known were a few bland rooms? How could Colby even begin to reconcile such an idea? His entire life had been confined to trunks and basements, not even much of a window to look out of to give him a hint that there was something more. He may have gotten peeks of Dr. Ahriman's living room whenever the hidden door was opened, but that was probably it. As far as Colby knew, that featureless basement was almost the extent of everything that existed.
Before Vic could answer, Colby whimpered and hid his face again, sparing Vic the need to answer right away. He'd have to think of something for later.
They reached the house, and the car pulled automatically into the garage. It felt almost like stepping out of the world as a heavy silence settled over them.
“Colby?” Vic murmured. “We're home, kiddo.”
The boy slowly peeked up at him, and Vic coaxed him out of the car. They went through the laundry room and into the kitchen, and as the main living areas of the house spread out before them, Colby hung back again.
It was only then that Vic realized just how intense a moment this was for both of them. This boy would be living in Vic's space, so Vic would have to adjust his routine. As for Colby, he had an entirely new environment to get used to, one that involved a lot more freedom than he'd ever known.
And it would be just the two of them. All alone. With Vic big enough to hold Colby down with almost no effort. No wonder the poor kid looked scared.
Vic faced the boy and crouched down. “I'll show you the house first, and then maybe we can get you something to eat, if you want?”
Colby looked up at him from under his eyelashes and gave a tiny shrug.
“Come on,” Vic said, putting on a gentle smile, hoping to encourage the boy even though he had a feeling it was going to be a very long process to get the boy to open up and trust him.
He led Colby on a tour, the boy tiptoeing along shyly behind him as he named the different rooms and pointed out different things. Colby stared at everything in awe, as though he'd never seen paintings and windows and appliances before.
Then again, he might not have.
The whole time, Colby kept his arms tight to his sides, his hands tucked under his chin. Halfway through the tour, Vic started intentionally touching various things rather than just pointing them out, hoping the boy might get the idea that he was allowed to touch them, too, but Colby stayed firmly contained.
They got through the whole house—only peeking out at the backyard since Colby seemed overwhelmed by its size—then finally came to the basement door. Vic hesitated there. Would it be worse to be honest and admit to Colby that it was there? Or avoid it altogether and have it be a lie of omission? Which would Colby trust more?
Vic blew out a breath, and decided on honesty.
“This is gonna be the therapy office one day,” he said, starting down the stairs.
Colby's eyes went wide and he gave a small whimper, then put his head down and followed. Once they reached the bottom, Vic went directly over to the doors that led outside, hoping to show Colby that he couldn't get trapped down there, that there was another way out.
But as Colby took in the unfinished space, all he did was shiver and reach for the zipper on his hoodie, his hands fumbling the pull as he tried to tug it down.
“Colby?” Vic strode over to him as the boy got the zipper undone and his hood pushed back.
“You want me naked down here, right?” he asked, his voice a low monotone.
“What? No.” Shit. “No.” Vic grabbed the bott
om of Colby's hoodie and zipped it all the way up, then pulled the hood up over the boy's head. He crouched down so they were eye-to-eye, and tugged on the drawstrings for the hood, then pulled Colby's sleeves down over his hands and pushed his hands up toward his chin. “You don't ever have to come down here if you don't want to.”
Colby frowned. “But this is where I belong.”
“Not anymore.” Vic firmly shook his head. “You're allowed to come down here if you want, but you certainly don't have to. Not ever.”
Colby eyed him suspiciously. “You're not gonna lock me up down here?” he whispered.
“Never,” Vic swore. “Besides, I couldn't, anyway.” He gestured at the doorway that led out to the backyard, pointing it out again in case Colby had missed it the first time.
Colby tilted his head, glancing at the door from the corner of his eye, then looked back at Vic.
“I know this is a lot to get used to,” Vic murmured, “but you're safe here.”
Colby hesitated, studying his eyes. “You promise?” he whispered.
“I promise.” Vic nodded toward the stairs. “Let's go get some dinner, yeah?”
Colby didn't respond, but he followed along when Vic headed up to the living room and shut the basement door. Vic made them dinner, and watched as Colby shyly picked at his food. The boy glanced at Vic between each bite, and Vic couldn't help but think the kid was either looking for permission to keep eating or waiting for punishment if he ate too much.
Poor boy. It would definitely take some time for Colby to get used to being free for a change.
Once they were done, Vic showed Colby how to wash the dishes and where to put them away, figuring he'd demonstrate it a few times before he let the boy try it on his own, then he steered Colby to his room.
“Why don't you take a shower and get some sleep?” Vic suggested.
Colby blinked sleepily at him even though he still looked on-edge.
“Go on,” Vic said, giving him an encouraging smile. He gently nudged Colby into his bedroom, then slowly pulled the door shut between them, hoping the boy would understand that Vic was giving him space.
A long while later, Vic finally heard the shower come on, only to shut off a few seconds later. After a minute, the same thing happened, followed by the shuffling sounds of Colby drying off.
Vic's heart clenched. He had a sneaking suspicion the boy had rarely enjoyed a long, hot shower. Something else for them to work toward.
For now, though, Vic was exhausted, so he went to get ready for bed. He switched off all the lights along the way to his room, then set his alarm. Vic settled back against the pillows with a sigh, wondering if he was really cut out for this.
* * *
COLBY CURLED up on the floor in the dark, listening as silence settled over the house. He'd showered, just like Vic told him to do, but he couldn't bring himself to climb up into the bed, even though Vic had suggested it. Even though it looked so soft and warm.
Instead, he sat on the floor, naked, knees drawn up to his chest and his hands tucked under his chin. He stared at the doorway, just able to see the outline of it in the darkened room. Tired as he was, he couldn't go to sleep. Not yet. Not when Bad Man might still come.
Not when Vic might change his mind and come to use him in payment for everything he'd given him.
Colby whimpered. Vic was so nice, but until he'd come along and carried Colby out of the basement, Colby had never met a single man who didn't want to abuse his body in some way. It just didn't seem possible that there would be any exceptions to that rule.
Even if Vic had held him so gently. Colby trembled at the memory, missing the warmth and security of Vic's arms even though the thought of being too close to a man ever again was terrifying.
Colby looked at the door again, heart thudding in his chest. He wanted so badly to trust Vic, but it was way too soon to do so.
Uncurling himself, Colby stood and tiptoed across the room, then stopped to listen. The house felt eerily silent. He tried the door handle, and it gave easily under his touch, so he wasn't locked in. Sucking in a breath, Colby slipped out of the room, felt his way in the dark, and found the basement door.
He choked on a sob, then went down the stairs, down to where he belonged.
Chapter 8
VIC WOKE with his alarm and got up to get dressed for the gym, simply as a matter of routine. He was pulling on his shoes when he suddenly stopped, remembering the boy sleeping down the hall.
Could he leave Colby home alone for an hour? Would the boy feel afraid? Abandoned? Would he even notice? Maybe he'd sleep right through it and never know Vic was gone.
Vic chuckled as he inwardly chastised himself. He really hadn't thought this arrangement through, failing to consider just how many things might change.
At least Cam was comfortable with it. Rather, he'd been comfortable with the idea of it. It remained to be seen if Cam was actually onboard with the reality of things.
For that matter, Vic had yet to consider the idea of Colby being introduced to Cam's presence. He had no idea how the boy might react to the sight of a pen floating about, seemingly of its own accord.
Vic pushed the thoughts aside. He couldn't deal with any of that at the moment. For now, he needed to get to the gym. Even if it left Colby a little unsettled, Vic needed it for his own sanity, his own self-care.
He crept down the hallway, turning on a few lights as he went, only to stop short at the sight of Colby's bedroom door standing wide open.
Vic peeked into the room, and froze. The bed hadn't been touched, and Colby wasn't there.
“Colby?” he called. He darted into the room and looked all around, but there was no sign of the boy. “Colby?”
No response came. Vic checked the room one more time, then raced down the hallway, checking the other rooms as he went, looking into closets and under furniture. He checked the alarm panel, but everything looked fine there. No indication of an exterior door being opened or the alarm being deactivated or faulty.
Colby wasn't where he was supposed to be, but where the hells had he gone?
Vic's heart started to race with panic until realization dawned on him. He moved across the living room, eyeing the door to the basement. Sure enough, it was only pushed to, not fully shut. Vic's heart clenched. Pulling the door open, Vic peeked down the stairs.
“Colby?” he called softly, then slowly walked down, scanning the dim, unfinished space.
He came to a stop, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of the boy. Colby was naked, curled up on the bare floor, sleeping fitfully.
Moving carefully, not wanting to frighten the boy in case he woke, Vic gathered that little body up in his arms and carried him back upstairs. He tucked Colby into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. He wished he could get the boy into some clothes, but he was sure that would jostle him too much, and didn't want Colby to wake up to Vic touching him like that. He was probably lucky he'd managed to get the boy upstairs without incident. Having Colby wake to Vic moving his limbs about, pulling and tugging and touching him all over, would have been too much.
Vic stood back and looked down at Colby, bundled up in what could very well be the first real bed of his life. His heart ached, and Vic had to tear himself away.
His need for the gym became urgent. There was no way he was going to get through this project without having some kind of outlet for himself.
* * *
COLBY MOANED softly as he woke, floating in a warm, fluffy embrace. He kept his eyes shut, wanting the sensation to last just in case it wasn't real, in case it was just the fantasy within his mental darkness.
He lingered there, cushioned and comfortably surrounded. He didn't feel quite as secure and contained as he did when the nice man in his fantasies scooped him up and carried him away, safe and warm, but it was close. If only he could hide away in that feeling forever.
Colby slowly opened his eyes, checking his surroundings. He was in bed again. In Vic's house. Not th
e basement. His breath came out in a shudder.
That made eight days three times plus one more that he'd woken up that way. Colby started counting them from the second morning he'd awoken to find himself tucked into bed after taking himself down to the basement, where he thought he belonged. He never knew how he got back to the bedroom. He could only assume Vic put him there, but they never talked about it. And, still, Vic never touched him, never did anything scary, every day taking him away from the basement, over and over. In seven days, it would be eight days four times, assuming it kept happening.
There was probably a number that came after eight, but Colby didn't know it. He'd only learned to count up to eight by hearing Bad Man say how many men were going to use him on any given night. After eight, the only other number Colby knew was eleven—that was the biggest party Bad Man had ever had—but he didn't know what came between the two. Vic had said something about teaching him numbers after he learned the basics of reading, but Colby wasn't really sure he wanted to know. It would just make him think of more and more men.
Then again, eight days three times plus one day was also the longest, by far, that he'd gone without being abused. It used to be, the longest had been just four days. Four. And now it was so many more than that. Colby frowned. He almost wished he knew the name of the number for that many days.
Then wondered what one more than that would be. And one more than that. And so on.
But that was all assuming he got to go another day without being used. So far, Vic seemed to be keeping his promise that no one would ever touch Colby like that again. But was he just tricking Colby? Trying to get Colby to let his guard down? Or did he genuinely intend to keep his promise?
Were more days of freedom really possible?
Colby burrowed down under the covers and clutched the pillow, staring at the door, wondering if Vic might come in. He never did without knocking first and asking Colby's permission. His permission! As if Colby were allowed to choose.
Though Vic sure made it sound like he was.
Colby groaned and pulled the sheets over his head. It was all too much.