Backward

by Andrew Grey

  Then he was hauled back to his feet. The blanket had fallen away. Eddie whipped him around, grabbing his arm and forcing it up behind him.

  “Eddie, you’re….”

  “Do you think I care? Maybe if I break both your arms, you’ll think twice before pulling something like that again.” He marched Tristan back up the stairs, but instead of throwing him back into the same room, Eddie dragged him to a different one. This one was a little nicer, and the bed was larger and made up. But otherwise, it was just as shabby as the other one. Eddie picked him up off his feet and literally tossed him roughly onto the bed.

  Tristan squealed and landed in a tangle of arms and legs, trying to keep from falling off the other side.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Eddie spat and grabbed one of Tristan’s legs, pulling. Tristan kicked and fought, but Eddie again wrenched his arm to the point where Tristan expected it to break at any second. Pain bloomed all through him, and he stilled completely. “Good,” Eddie crooned and eased off slightly.

  A bell tinged, and Tristan began to fight again. “Hold him,” Eddie said, and force was applied to Tristan’s shoulders.

  “Eddie, don’t do this,” Tristan whimpered as hands grabbed his ankles and forced his legs apart. He tried to kick, but the hands simply held him tighter, making his feet tingle.

  “Eddie,” a voice called from downstairs. “Eddie, are you here?”

  “Fuck,” Eddie swore, and Tristan breathed slowly, unable to stop the whimpers that rose from his throat. The pressure on his ankles eased, and then he was released. “Take him back to the room and lock him up.”

  Tristan was manhandled to his feet and thrown back into the other room. He managed to land on the bed rather than the floor as the door slammed shut after him and the lock slid closed with a loud scrape.

  His heart still pounded, and he shivered from head to foot, the bed shaking along with him. What in the hell was he going to do when Eddie returned? And he was damned sure that Eddie was going to come back, and there was no doubt about what was in store for him when he did. “Harry, please, you have to save me,” Tristan whispered, almost like a prayer. Then the tears came, and he curled into a ball on the bed and let them.

  HOW LONG Tristan stayed that way he had no idea. He was afraid to move and tried his best to numb everything. Eddie was going to hurt him and take away… he didn’t want to think of what Eddie was going to do.

  Tristan moved to the edge of the mattress and reached under it. His fingers touched the metal, and he pulled out the scissors and the tweezers, clutching one in each hand. When they came for him, he was going to fight and do as much damage as he could before they hurt him. He had to fight. He probably wouldn’t win, and God knew what Eddie would do to him after Tristan buried the scissors in him. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t just give up. Tears formed in his eyes again. Tristan got off the bed and pushed the window open. A slight breeze ruffled the yellowed curtains. He thought about leaning out and screaming at the top of his lungs, but with the traffic, car horns, and who knew what else going on outside, it wasn’t like anyone was going to react. Instead he leaned against the windowsill and said a silent good-bye to his parents. “You never understood who I am, but I love you both,” he whispered and let the wind take his words. Then he thought about Harry, and his throat clenched as a huge lump formed. “I love you, Harry. I really do.” He closed his eyes and brought up Harry’s smile. What he wouldn’t give to see that again. He said good-bye to each of his friends and then pulled back inside and once again lay on the bed, curling into a ball. He wished he had his blanket. There was nothing for him to cover up with, and he’d never felt more exposed.

  It didn’t matter. As soon as he attacked Eddie, that would be the end. He grew more convinced of it by the second.

  He kept expecting to hear steps on the stairs and waited for the door to open. But he heard nothing. Maybe Eddie had calmed down and was going to leave him there. Time ticked on and on. He thought about asking to go to the bathroom just to see if anyone was still out there, since he’d heard nothing at all. But then again, they weren’t likely to let him out again. He was a prisoner, and he was going to stay one.

  Tristan watched the door, clutching his weapons in his fists, ready to pounce. How long he stayed that way he didn’t know. Time seemed to have little meaning except that the light from the window began to fade and took on a reddish tinge. It must be getting late in the day.

  A thud sounded in the hall outside the room. Tristan stiffened and waited. He heard footsteps on the stairs, and then the lock slid back. Tristan stiffened and got ready, weapons hidden but poised to do as much damage as possible to whoever was on the other side of that door.

  It opened slowly. “Tristan.” The voice was familiar and the door opened further. Spook stepped into the room and quickly closed the door behind him. “Thank God I found you.”

  “Spook,” Tristan whispered. He released his hands, dropping the weapons on the floor.

  “Shhh, I knocked out the guy outside the door, but we need to get out of here.” Spook pulled off his shirt and tossed it to him, leaving him in a T-shirt. “Put that on.” Tristan tugged on the shirt, and wondered what he was going to do for pants. Before he could ask, Spook toed off his shoes and dropped his black jeans. Then he skinned off his boxers and tossed them over, and Tristan caught them. Spook pulled his jeans and shoes back on in record time. “Put those on and we’ll get the hell out of here.” Spook went back to the door, listened, and stepped back in the room. He pulled a small phone out of his pocket and pressed a number.

  “Bull, I found him. Call the police and tell them Tristan has been found.” He rattled off an address on State Street. “Advise them if they come quietly, they might get the whole enchilada.” He hung up, and Tristan followed him to the door. Spook pulled it open and they headed for the stairs. No one challenged them, and on the ground floor, Spook motioned Tristan toward the back door.

  Tristan walked as quietly as he could, his entire body sprung tight with energy. Near the back of the house, Tristan found an old pair of sneakers. They were too big, but he threw them on and stayed behind Spook, curling his toes and moving as fast as he could.

  “Stay here,” Spook whispered and approached the back door. He pulled it open, and the two men standing outside were too shocked to do anything before Spook laid them both out cold. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They ran through the backyard and out the rusted gate to the alley. Spook picked up his speed, and Tristan kept up until Spook pulled open the door to an old, dark sedan. Tristan jumped in, sliding across the seat with Spook right behind him. Spook started the engine as soon as he had the door closed and gunned it, taking off like a rocket.

  “How did you find me?”

  “We figured out that Rodney was working for Eddie, so I followed him. It was Bull’s idea, and paid off big-time.” Spook continued driving. “I laid Eddie out in the living room as well as the smelly thing upstairs. Don’t think there were others, but I don’t know. Needed to get you out of there.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Harry’s. He’s been nervous as hell about you.” Spook slowed down as police cars approached, then passed them. “They should have quite a surprise waiting for them. The place is full of enough evidence to put Eddie away for a long time, and with his stooge in the department out of commission, this one is going to stick like glue.” Spook pressed a button on the dash. “Call Harry.”

  “Hello.” Harry’s voice came through the radio.

  “Harry, it’s me,” Tristan said tearfully. “I’m with Spook, and he’s bringing me to you.” Just hearing Harry’s voice was enough to break the dam that held back his fear. He shivered, and tears ran down his cheeks.

  “Did he hurt you?” Harry asked.

  “He’s okay,” Spook answered when Tristan couldn’t. His throat was too constricted, and all that seemed to happen were the tears that ran down his face. “I got him out, and Bull called
the police. You can call them from your place, and they can speak with Tristan there. He’ll need clothes. We had to improvise a little, but he’s okay.”

  “He didn’t do anything to me, but he was going to,” Tristan croaked.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe with Spook. Just get here, okay?”

  Tristan nodded.

  “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” Spook hung up and placed another call.

  “Bull, I have Tristan, and we’re heading for Harry’s. He’s fine but very shaken up.”

  “What do I say about how he got free?” Bull asked.

  “Tell them that a member of your security staff was able to rescue him,” Spook said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Bull said and hung up.

  Everything was happening so fast, Tristan couldn’t keep up and didn’t try. He sat quietly and waited until Spook pulled into Harry’s drive. Harry was standing by the front door and hurried to the passenger side of the car before it had even pulled to a stop. Harry yanked the door open, and Tristan got out and fell into his arms, breaking down into tears right there in the driveway. Harry held him tight and guided him toward the door.

  Once they were inside, the last of Tristan’s fortitude deserted him, and he broke into sobs. He’d been as strong as he could during the ordeal, but now all the fear and trauma poured out of him. “I’m sorry,” Tristan cried as the tears continued flowing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re here and you’re safe,” Harry told him, stroking his hair as Tristan went on and on, crying, clutching at Harry.

  “He almost…. He was going to….” Tristan tried to speak, but his words choked off, and he gasped for air. Harry kept holding and soothing him, his touches gentle and reassuring.

  “Should you go before the police get here?” he heard Harry ask Spook.

  A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, and Tristan looked up from where he’d buried his face into Harry’s shoulder. “You’re going to be all right.” Tristan swallowed hard and did his best to stop blubbering. “You were ready to fight. He didn’t break you, and he didn’t get to your heart.” Spook crouched down next to the sofa, where Harry must have propelled them. “Somehow you got weapons and were ready to use them. That shows brains and cunning. No matter what, remember that. You were strong, and you did good.”

  “I don’t feel like it,” Tristan whimpered. “I was scared to death.”

  “Of course. But you used your fear to sneak weapons and to arm yourself. You thought and stayed alert, making use of what was around you.” Spook stopped. “I’d be proud to have you on my side anytime.” Spook smiled and stood up. “I mean it. Not many people would be able to do what you did. So remember that.” Spook turned, and Tristan watched him go.

  “Do you think he really meant that?” Tristan asked with a sniffle. He was finding it hard to believe.

  “I’ve never known Spook to say what he didn’t mean. If you want confirmation, I suggest you ask Jeremy, but I’m sure he’ll say the same thing.”

  Tristan took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I need some clothes.”

  “Where did you get those?”

  “They’re Spook’s,” Tristan said.

  Harry looked down at what he was wearing and then slowly raised his gaze. “He gave you his underwear?” Before he could answer, Harry tugged Tristan and held him tightly. “Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad you’re safe. Your mom and dad will be too.”

  “You talked to them?” Tristan asked.

  “Yeah. I called them this morning. When the police weren’t much use to start with, I called everyone I could think of. I’d have moved heaven and earth to get you back if I’d had to.”

  Tristan closed his eyes and held Harry. He knew he would have. “And you even braved my parents.”

  “Your mom is very nice. Your dad is a bit… let’s say conservative and leave it at that.” Harry didn’t let him go. When his phone rang, Harry shifted and managed to get it out before pushing it into Tristan’s hand.

  He looked at the display and pressed the button. “Mom.”

  “Honey, is it really you? Your friend Jeremy called and said that someone had found you and that you were safe.”

  “I am. I’m okay.”

  “I expected the police to—”

  “Mom, I have the best friends. You’ll never understand what they did for me.” Tristan did his best to reassure her as she broke into tears, pulling Tristan right along with her. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt, but I was really scared the entire time.” His father came on the line too.

  “You’re really okay?” For the first time in his life, Tristan heard his father crying.

  “Yes, Dad. I’m with Harry, and he’s taking care of me.” Tristan refused to let go and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder once again. “I was able to get away with the help of a friend. The police were on their way as he was bringing me here. I’m fine.” Neither of them said anything right away, and he heard two sets of sniffles. “I’m really okay.”

  “We were so worried,” his mother said, crying… for him. “Are you sure they can’t get to you?”

  “Yes. I’m really safe. I promise you that.” He was shaking and could barely hold the phone any longer. Harry took it and spoke with them.

  “Yes, I promise you he’s okay, and I’ll bring him over to see you just as soon as we’re done with the police and all the questions. … Yes, he’s with me right now. … Yes. … No. … Yes, I promise.” Harry eventually hung up. “They were very worried.”

  “I take it we have to see my parents today?” Tristan wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “They never wanted to talk about the fact that I was gay. They never wanted to understand.”

  “That’s probably true, but things like this tend to change people. They were truly worried about you.” Harry tugged him closer. “I was really afraid. It took me a long time to find you and to find balls enough to actually talk to you. The thought of losing you….” Harry’s voice broke. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

  “Spook said you yelled at people,” Tristan commented.

  “I yelled at the police. They weren’t doing anything, and then we figured out that Rodney might have been the one who helped them get to you. I was so mad, but Bull had the presence of mind to think that maybe he’d lead us to Eddie and, by extension, to you. Spook was the one who found you, though.” Harry’s voice broke again.

  Tristan held Harry and refused to let him go. He needed to feel him and hold him. A loud knock reverberated through the house. Tristan squeaked, afraid it was Eddie coming for him. “It’s all right.” Harry shifted him off his lap, then pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around him. “Go change, and I’ll deal with whoever it is.”

  Tristan nodded and hurried from the room. He made it to the bedroom where he had his things and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping the blanket pulled tightly around him. He couldn’t move. Everything that had happened to him slammed into him all at once. He’d been kidnapped, had his life threatened, and come within seconds of being raped. Tristan fell back on the bed and rolled onto his side. He pulled his legs up to him, tucked his feet under the blanket, and shivered as though it were the dead of winter. That was where Harry found him.

  “Tristan, it’s all right,” Harry said. He sat on the edge of the bed, and Tristan scooted away. When Harry tried to touch him, he pulled even farther away. “It’s me. It’s Harry.”

  “He almost raped me,” Tristan croaked. “He… he….” Tristan shivered again and couldn’t stop. Harry pulled him off the bed and Tristan struggled. Harry wrapped Tristan in his arms and just held him, rocking slowly back and forth. “How could he hate me so much?”

  “I don’t know,” Harry whispered into his ear. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. He’s gone, and he’s not going to come anywhere near you. The police have him in custody, Tristan. He isn’t going to be let out anytime soon.”

&nbs
p; “Tristan,” a voice said softly. He lifted his head away from Harry’s shoulder, blinking a bit as Officer Douglas stepped into the room. “It’s going to be okay. We have Eddie and some of his men in custody, and this time the evidence is not going to disappear. There will be no repeat of what happened last time.”

  Tristan nodded slowly. “Good.”

  “Do you think you can tell me what happened?” Officer Douglas asked softly.

  “No. Not now,” Tristan gasped and held on to Harry. He needed something strong and reliable. That was Harry. His Harry.

  “Did Eddie rape you?” Officer Douglas asked.

  “He tried but got interrupted,” Tristan said, and Harry held him a little tighter.

  “I know it’s hard, but try to tell Ken everything you can. He needs to know what happened so he can help you.”

  “Mostly he kept me in a room naked, with the door locked. He took away the blanket and the sheets on the bed. He didn’t feed me and only gave me a little water. The smelly guy guarded me.” His thoughts refused to settle in a reasonable fashion.

  “Do you know where you were?”

  “On State Street, I think.” He had the presence of mind not to mention Spook.

  “Who did you see while you were there?” Officer Douglas was taking notes, and Tristan found it easier not to look at him.

  “Eddie… umm… the stinky guy… you’ll know him because you’ll smell him ten minutes away. Dang near made me sick.” At least he could smile about that. “At first they had me in the basement, but then they moved me upstairs to one of the bedrooms.”

  “We believe we found the room where you were being held. Could you describe it for us?” Officer Douglas asked.

  “Dingy. Bare mattress, smelled like old house. They took all the fabric out of the room except the curtains. Oh, there should be a disposable razor under the mattress, and a pair of tweezers and old scissors I found in the bathroom. I smuggled them in the binding of the blanket before Eddie took it away.”