Ben didn't respond. In fact, he didn't even turn to look at him. Geoff waited, patiently, hoping the silence would cause Ben speak. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Geoff tried again.
"I'm thinking of going into work today. Do you want me to pick anything up for you?"
Again there was no response.
"Ben. I'm speaking to you. Please answer me," Geoff spoke assertively.
Ben finally turned and looked at him, but Geoff could see the disinterest in his eyes by the blank expression on his face. "I'm fine," he whispered.
Geoff nodded at him. Alright, he would go to the office until lunchtime and then come back. He would have to wait and see what had occurred in his absence. "Eat what you want. I'll be back later."
Geoff stood up and left the room. Grabbing a pen and a piece of paper, he wrote his contact details down. Walking back into the living room, he left them on the table next to where Ben sat.
"Here are my numbers if you need to speak to me. I won't be too long."
Waiting to see if Ben would acknowledge what he'd said, Geoff looked down at him, but all Ben did was turn away and stare out the window again, dismissing him. Geoff pursed his lips, staring at Ben before quietly sighing. Turning away, Geoff walked out of the room.
Grabbing his briefcase and a stack of files on his way, Geoff walked out of the house, closing the door gently behind in. He paused on the step and looked back at the shut door, contemplating his decision. Should he leave Ben?
Tightening his grip on the files, Geoff turned back to the door ready to open it and go back in but stopped. He'd only be gone a few hours. Enough time to see how Ben would behave. To see what Ben would do.
But, should he stay at home for another day and see how Ben was tomorrow? Would he be any better tomorrow? Geoff sighed and looked back at his car, squinting in the bright sunlight, the glare stabbing painfully into his eyes. He shivered slightly as the cold penetrated his clothes. Could he afford to stay at home another day? He had a business to run, and he'd neglected it recently, something he couldn't keep doing. Deciding he'd made the right choice, he walked over to his car and got in.
❊❊❊
Ben turned to look at the doorway when he heard the front door close. He glanced around the living room taking in the decor and furniture. This was the first time he'd left his bedroom and had come downstairs. He took in the dark brown leather three seater sofa and a two seater sofa, the small table next to each and the tall lamps in the corners of the room.
The walls were painted in a light cream colour. The carpet was a similar colour to the sofa but was lush and thick under his bare feet. He rubbed his feet on the carpet, enjoying the feel of it as he sank them in. The focus of the room was the open fire, wood in the grate ready to be lit on a cold night.
Family pictures covered the wall in no particular pattern. The frames were all different shapes, sizes and colours, but seemed to fit together. In front of the open fire was a thick white rug; the type you could lie on with that special someone. Ben snorted to himself. Wasn't like he was going to have a special someone anytime soon, was it?
Standing up, he walked into the kitchen, another room he hadn't spent any time in. This room was all modern. He couldn't see any appliances so assumed they were all built into the units. The counter was black and marble, the units looked oak or maple, he wasn't sure. The island was designed using the same style and colours. He could see that there were drawers in half of it. The other half was a table and had bar stools around it. Being nosey, he pulled a few out, but they only contained the usual kitchen items.
In the corner, Ben saw that there were a table and chairs that didn't appear to match the kitchen. The table had a glass top, and there was a plastic mat rolled on top of it. One of the chairs had a booster seat attached. Ben frowned. Did Geoff have a child? He hadn't heard one in the house.
Lights hung down from the ceiling, and when he looked for the cooker, he found it was one of the touch types that lay flat on the surface. Running a hand along the counter, he could feel the cold and smoothness of the marble. A lot of money had been spent in this kitchen.
It was very different to the one in the house where he had lived. He couldn't call it a home, not after Derek had moved in. The only reason the house was clean or there was food on the table was because of him. He had to earn his place or he would have been punished, and that was something Ben never wanted to endure again.
Opening up cupboards, he eventually found the glasses, and again searching, he found the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He sat on one of the chairs by the island and drank it slowly.
Looking around the immaculate kitchen, he felt out of place. He didn't belong here. He didn't belong anywhere. Why wasn't he dead? God, he was such a fuck up! He couldn't even kill himself. Why did Tom and Seb have to find him?
Squeezing the glass, he suddenly stood up and threw it at the wall, screaming, watching it smash to pieces. Panting, Ben looked at the broken glass on the floor and sank to his knees. He was like the glass.
Broken.
❊❊❊
Geoff put the phone down with a groan. After the call he'd just taken, he wished he'd stayed at home after all. Why was it that some people had more money than sense, and they thought they could buy themselves out of any trouble? So not only was he now representing someone who had been caught driving drunk, he now had to deal with the possibility that his client had attempted to bribe a police officer. Geoff knew he shouldn't have taken this case, but the client's father was a close friend of his own, so he'd felt an obligation to help. He should have refused. He knew the trouble that handling this case could bring.
He rubbed his forehead where he felt a headache developing, a painful pulsing sensation over his eyes. He closed them, breathing deeply, hoping to alleviate the pain.
When Geoff heard a knock on the door, he opened his eyes looking up to see Seb stood there. "Hey, come in." He sighed more than spoke the words.
Seb walked in and sat down in front of him. "Bad call?"
"Thomas Jefferson."
"Ah, enough said," Seb said with a grimace. "What's he done now?"
"Trying to bribe the arresting officer."
"What? And we're just hearing about this now?" Seb looked stunned, his eyes going wide as he shook his head. "Idiot."
"Yeah, I know. I wish I hadn't agreed to represent him." Geoff sighed, briefly closing his eyes, his headache worsening.
"Not like you had much choice."
"No, not really. Anyway, what can I help you with?" Geoff leaned forward and rested his arms on the desk in front of him, blinking as his eyes blurred. Shit, he was getting a migraine.
"It's about Ben. Tom's worried about him." Seb mimicked the action, leaning on Geoff's desk.
"Yeah, me too. A friend of mine is coming over tonight to speak to him."
"Ben agreed?" Seb sat back, eyebrows rising in surprise.
Geoff grimaced. "No. He doesn't know about it, but I feel he needs it. He's barely eating, doesn't leave the bedroom, and he doesn't talk. I can't get him to say anything to me. He's barely living. I don't even think he's had a shower."
"That bad?" Seb shook his head. "God."
"I know. Clara, she's the doctor I spoke to, suggested that he has a journal, so he can write down his thoughts and emotions. The same as you suggested with Tom." Geoff sat back, closing his eyes against the light flooding the room. It stabbed at his eyes, adding to the pain. "I don't know his past, so I don't know how to help him. I don't want to say anything that will inadvertently cause more harm. I'm going to buy a journal when I go for lunch, then I'll be heading back home. To be honest with you, I'm concerned about leaving him on his own for too long. I'm concerned as to what I'll be going back to."
"Does he seem suicidal to you?" Seb asked biting his lip.
"I don't know him well enough to say one way or the other. If I were to compare him to how he was when he left the hospital, then I would say no. He's had
plenty of opportunities to do something and he hasn't. It's almost like he's given up, and he's waiting for the end. I'm hoping Clara will be able to tell me more after she's seen him. At least then, I'll be in a better position to help him."
"I only know Ben through what Tom, Matt and Luke have said. The person you're describing doesn't seem the same one they've told me about."
"I don't think it's about what he was doing. I think it goes deeper than that. We both know Tom was kicked out and had to fend for himself, but he doesn't seem to have been so deeply affected by what happened to Adam as Ben has. I think there's more to it, but again I can't say for certain because I know so little about him."
"It's frustrating, and I wish we could help more, but on a more positive note, both Matt and Luke have adjusted well."
"I'm glad. They're both great guys." Geoff meant what he said. All four had suffered enough. If only Ben could move forward.
Seb nodded, smiling. "I know it's not easy with all of us living together as we are but I'm glad I did it, and I know Tom is too. Anyway, when are you going to lunch?"
Geoff looked at the clock, noting the time. "In about an hour after I've sorted out this new mess in the Jefferson case." He grimaced, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Not that I'm looking forward to it."
"Well, I'm glad it's yours and not mine. You have far more patience than I have when dealing with him."
Geoff grunted noncommittally. "Go now before I change my mind and pass this over to you."
Seb laughed, standing up. "No, thanks. I'm probably more likely to punch the bloke then help him."
Geoff spent the next hour making various phone calls and updating the case file with the relevant details. This case was going to be anything but easy. He wished he hadn't agreed to take it on but did he have a choice? He would have had his dad on his back if he hadn't had agreed. He was thirty-two and had all but taken over the company now his dad had dropped the number of cases and hours he worked. But, he still felt like he couldn't come into his own and make the company work the way he wanted it too. If it were his choice, he wouldn't take on these types of cases. Trying to get rich kids off- rich kids who felt because they had money they were above the law- drained him.
He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in. He shook out his hands when he realised he held them clenched. Sighing again, he opened his eyes and sat forward in his chair, rubbing his forehead, and looked at his clock. It was time to leave.
He shut his computer off and grabbed the files he needed and walked out of his office, stopping to speak to Sue, his secretary, to update her. He managed to get away without being stopped and quickly left the building. Walking to his car, he opened it and left his files and briefcase before locking it and walking into the city centre. He went to the nearest bookshop and found what he wanted, purchased it and left, walking back to his car.
He wasn't flashy and his car reflected that. He didn't feel the need to spend stupid amounts of money on something that simply got him where he needed to go. Plus he babysat his brother's children, and with that in mind, he had a silver Citroen Grand C4 Picasso with a leather interior that was easier to clean. Getting in, he started the car and drove home.
Unlocking the door, Geoff walked into the hallway and paused as he listened to the house. Hearing nothing, he picked up the mail, quickly scanning through it. All junk. In the kitchen, he threw the mail in the bin before noticing the broken glass on the floor and stopped in his tracks. What had happened?
Frowning, Geoff quickly scanned the rest of the kitchen for any further signs of disturbances. When he saw none, he checked the rooms looking for Ben. Not finding him, he looked around for Ben and not seeing him anywhere he went upstairs and knocked on his bedroom door, opening it at the same time. Sticking his head in, he found Ben lying on the bed.
"Hi, Ben. How have you been today?"
Ben looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. Well, that was better than nothing. At least he acknowledged the question.
"I bought you something. It's a journal. I know you don't want to talk about what you've been through, so I thought it might help if you wrote it down instead. No one will see what you write unless you want them to. It doesn't just have to be about Adam, or your time on the streets, it can be about anything you want."
Goff walked over and placed the book and a pen on the cabinet next to the bed. He looked Ben over and noticed that he still hadn't showered or changed into clean clothes. The room was starting to smell, and Geoff was certain the bedding needed to be changed. But how did he approach that without upsetting Ben? He was glad he'd phoned Clara now. She would give him the insight he needed to help Ben or point him in the right direction.
"I'm going to make some lunch. Maybe some soup and a sandwich. What do you think?"
Ben shook his head but didn't look over at him.
"Well, I'll bring some up for you and if you decide you want it, it's there for you."
Geoff walked out of the room and closed the door before leaning back against it and closing his eyes. At least he'd gotten some response from him rather than being ignored or the blank stares. He cleaned up the broken glass and threw it out. What could have caused Ben to throw the glass?
In the kitchen, he gathered what he needed to make the sandwiches before putting some soup on to warm up. Leaning against the counter, Geoff stared at the tiles on the wall, pinching his lips together and frowning. He sighed, pushing away from the counter and running his hand through his hair. He started to pace the kitchen floor waiting for the food to warm. What should he do?
Stopping, Geoff looked down at the floor and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he had to be patient. He knew he had to be understanding, but it was hard. He didn't have the correct tools to help Ben and he felt he was failing him. It was time he started reading about the five stages Clara had mentioned.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ben rolled over, frowning at the sight of the journal. Why the fuck would he want to write about any of the shit that had happened in his life? Where had Geoff gotten that fucked up idea from? How could writing about his experiences help him? Ben felt his eyes start to itch and tingle and he squeezed them shut in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. He wouldn't cry! He didn't deserve his tears.
He was a worthless fuck up. He knew it. His parents had known it. Why write about it? He turned away from the journal, unable to look at.
After a few seconds, Ben glanced over at the journal again, staring at it. Should he write about it? About his experiences, about his parents and what they had done to him? He'd been thinking about them a lot recently. Not surprising, considering everything he'd been through. His step-dad and bitch of a mother.
The beatings, frequently being left without food and being forced naked into a dark cupboard and left for hours. He was still afraid of the dark. He could still remember sitting in that cupboard with his arms wrapped around his skinny legs trying to keep warm. Shivering, naked and afraid, he'd learned early on not to cry out. Starving, because they hadn't fed him again. Told he wasn't worth feeding and that he was a piss poor excuse for a son. Wasn't that why his real dad had abandoned them? He didn't want to accept that his son was a worthless piece of shit.
He still had the scars on his back from one of the beatings that he should have gone to the hospital for but they'd been too afraid to take him. How would they have been able to answer the questions regarding how the injuries had occurred? Broken bones were easier to explain. Overworked social workers were only too happy to have a plausible reason as to how his arm or leg had been broken. Falling off his bike or skateboard always sounded reasonable. The cigarette burns on his hips and thighs were never seen by professionals. Couldn't explain them away.
He tried to breathe, forcing the air into his lungs against the heaviness in his chest. The room started to blur and he closed his eyes. He heard the knock on the door and blinked his eyes rapidly. He didn't want Geoff to see him like this. The door open
ed and he looked over to see Geoff place a bowl and a sandwich next to the journal on the bedside cabinet.
"Chicken soup and a cheese sandwich. Come on, eat some of it. I'm not leaving until you do." Geoff stood close to the bed, arms crossed over his chest, watching Ben.
Ben watched Geoff, as Geoff waited for him to eat. Why couldn't he see that he wanted to be left alone? He didn't want to eat anything. It was all too much effort to move over to the food and eat it. His limbs were like lead and he didn't have the strength to move them. Tired. He was tired.
Realising Geoff wasn't going anywhere soon, Ben mustered all the strength he could and sat up, stomach churning as he looked at the food. He reaching over to pick up the sandwich and took a bite. It tasted like sawdust to him, tacky and clumpy in his mouth. He found it difficult to chew because he had no saliva.
"Try some of the soup if you're struggling with the sandwich."
Geoff must have seen his difficulty. He dropped the sandwich back on the plate and tried some of the soup. After forcing himself to have several spoonfuls, he put it down. "I can't eat anymore."
"Come on, just a little bit more. Try finishing that half of the sandwich or a few more spoonfuls of soup."
"No, I can't."
"Please, just a bit more." Geoff held out the spoon with some soup on it. "I don't want to have to force feed you, but if you don't eat some more, you're going to make yourself ill."
Ben had a few more spoonfuls of soup before pushing it away. "I can't eat anymore, seriously."
"You're doing really well."
Ben shook his head. "No more."
"Please, just a- "
"I said no!" Ben suddenly lunged forward and knocked the bowl from Geoff's hand, spilling the soup on him. Geoff jumped up when the hot soup touched him.
"Shit!"
Ben lay back down on the bed, watching Geoff compose himself before picking up the bowl and spoon and leaving the room. A couple of minutes later he returned, in clean jeans, and proceeded to clean the floor. Ben watched him, but didn't say a word.
New Beginnings (Second Chances Book 2) Page 3