by J. Bengtsson
“Forgive me,” he said, kissing me for real this time.
When our hot kiss ended I asked, “Was I mad at you?”
Jake laughed.
“So did you win?”
“Win what?” Jake asked confused.
“The talent competition…did you win?”
“Oh,” Jake said, shaking his head. “No. I came in third.”
“Third?” I laughed. “God, what a loser! I mean you weren’t even second best.”
Jake laughed. The tension was completely gone.
“Are you still with that studio?”
“No as soon as my contract expired I got myself a nice, new contract with their biggest competitor,” Jake smiled.
I laughed. “Nice. What happened after you signed with the first studio?”
“I recorded my album and when it was released three months later, the studio basically promoted me as “look at the poor kidnapped boy! Isn’t that cute? He’s trying to sing.” It kills me to say this but that guy was right. The publicity stunt worked. People were curious. Interest was high. My songs started playing on the radio and then they started selling. I probably wouldn’t be where I am today if they hadn’t used the kidnapping as a marketing tool. But I still think it was a shitty thing to do.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“And you told me that you went on tour by yourself.”
“Yeah, I did. When my album started selling, the studio hastily threw a tour together. My parents couldn’t figure out a way to travel with me without losing the house so the studio convinced them to let me go with Steve, my assigned guardian. He was supposed to be like a make-shift parent, you know, and oversee my homework and make sure I ate and slept and got to the shows on time. But Steve was basically the opposite of that. His only concern was getting me to each performance. He didn’t give a shit about my homework or if I ate or slept. I heard him, on several occasions, brag about getting paid to be my babysitter but really he was just getting paid to party. The studio also hired a group of guys to be my band and they were all way older than me and hated playing backup for a kid they considered to be just a novelty act. To make matters worse, I was travelling the country on a tour bus with a bunch of guys who regularly drank, did hard drugs and routinely brought skanky hookers back into our cramped living quarters. I would be, like, lying in my bunk trying to tune it all out but, I mean, it was like a frickin’ brothel in the bus. And Steve was as bad as the rest of them. It was a really bad situation for anyone, much less a sixteen-year-old.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Your parents?”
“I wasn’t close with my family.”
“You weren’t? Why?”
“It was complicated back then…and, I don’t know, I guess I just kind of felt like I deserved the misery.”
I grabbed his hand and shook my head. I wanted to show him sympathy but I didn’t want him to confuse it with pity. “I wish I’d been there for you.”
“I’m glad you weren’t there. You wouldn’t have liked me much back then.”
“Yes I would have.”
“No, Casey, you wouldn’t have. I promise you. I was so fucked up.”
“So how did you get from there to here?”
Jake stared at me for a second then looked away. He avoided my question by saying, “It wasn’t all terrible on that first tour though. At least I had Lassen.”
“Lassen drove for you back then?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah. He and I were the only two sober ones on the bus. I spent most of my time up front with him. He became my guardian and watched over me and protected me. Without him I don’t know if I would have made it, honestly.”
“Huh. Wow,” I said, shaking my head. I had a whole new respect for Bob Lassen.
Chapter Twenty
Jake
One month Casey and I had been traveling through Europe together and it was, hands down, the best time of my life. I was in love with a beautiful woman. Casey was everything I could ever have asked for. But just as I knew it would, reality had finally caught up to me. My life was quickly spiraling out of control. I was trying hard to hold it all together but the pain, at times, was unreal, like jagged knives stabbing into my knee. And as my knee swelled to twice its size, so did my anger and hate. I was powerless to stop the demons surging through my body and soul. Ray was everywhere. His evilness invaded me. I was slipping back into Hell.
I was losing her. Day by day I could feel her slipping through my fingers. Soon she would be gone and I would have no one but myself to blame. If I couldn’t make it work with Casey, I would never be able to make it work with anyone. The realization that I was doomed to a life of loneliness hurt more than I thought it would. Now that I had a taste of what love was, I knew how much I would miss it.
Two times in the last week I’d experienced flashbacks during sex. The first one came after her hand ran down my back in a way that made my body revolt in panicked horror. All the sudden, it was not Casey in bed with me. I gasped in shock and pulled away violently. She apologized profusely, assuming she’d accidentally brushed up against my knee. I didn’t correct her. How could I explain to her that, for a brief moment, she’d become my rapist?
After that I tried to avoid intimacy with her. But Casey didn’t understand what was happening to me. My excuses would only hold for so long. Last night when she initiated sex in the most erotic strip tease ever, I couldn’t control myself. I loved her. My body wanted to be with her. I gave in to her need…to my need. I kept telling myself it was going to be okay but I was too much in my head. Too worried about another visit from the demon. And Ray did not disappoint. You like that, don’t you, boy?
This time I jumped from the bed angrily. I fucking hate it! I wanted to scream at him. I was shaking with uncontrolled fury. I hate it! I fucking hate you! My fists were clenched. My face was contorted with vengeful rage.
Upon seeing Casey’s horrified face, I battled my way out of the flashback. Shame filled my soul. I was not worthy of her. Tears filled her eyes. Casey finally understood that more was happening than just my knee.
“What was that?” she questioned, looking dismayed.
I didn’t answer her as I pulled my pants back on.
“Jake. Please. What’s happening? Just talk to me.”
I shook my head, too furious with myself to even come up with a plausible explanation.
“Did you…did you just have a flashback?” She asked.
Her question floored me. How? How did she know?
“What do you know about flashbacks?” I spat out.
“Just what I learned in Psychology class.”
I looked at her. Psychology class? “Casey, you have no frickin’ clue what you’re dealing with?”
“So tell me.”
I laughed, bitterly.
“Jake, I feel you pulling away. I want to…”
“What? You want to help me? Is that what you want?”
“I…yes. Is that so bad?”
“It’s not bad. It’s just not going to happen.”
“Why not? When the flashbacks come tell me what to do.”
“I can’t predict them Casey.”
“But there is something that triggers it.”
I looked at her and shook my head.
“You know what triggers it, Jake. I can tell you do, but you won’t tell me,” Casey said, her voice cracking. Tears were now rolling down her face. “Why now? You weren’t having them before?”
“I’ve had them before. I just haven’t had them with you.”
“So what has changed? Is it the pain? I can see how much pain you’re in Jake. It’s getting worse.”
I sighed and drooped my shoulders. “This is who I am, Casey. That guy you met? That was me pretending to be the guy I wanted to be. I’m a fucked up piece of shit. I have nothing to offer you. This is it!”
Casey didn’t say anything for a long time. She got dressed. I stood there. Finally she uttered, “How convenient.”
“What?”
“I said…how convenient,” she repeated, but now there was edge to her voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me you don’t like being pitied but, when it’s convenient for you, look at you playing the pity card.”
I didn’t respond. She wasn’t wrong.
“Don’t try to get me to feel sorry for you, Jake McKallister. I won’t. I know who you are and to suggest that I don’t is just insulting. This isn’t who you are. This is you in pain. This is you afraid. You’re giving up on us because it’s easier for you to call it quits than to face the things that torture you. I won’t give up on you as easily as you’re giving up on me!” Casey cried, then stomped out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-one
Casey
We didn’t talk the rest of the night and into the next day. I was terrified. Jake was definitely pulling away from me. The past week, in addition to the pain he was clearly in, he also seemed sad and despondent. I wanted to help him but he was so defensive. And I wasn’t the only one noticing the change in Jake’s demeanor. He was short-tempered with his crew, with Sean getting the brunt of his anger. Jake seemed focused solely on getting through his concerts, which clearly were becoming more difficult for him.
Sean and Lassen and I had tried to get him to see a doctor but he refused, saying he knew what was wrong and there was nothing that could be done about it. Anytime I brought up his injured knee, Jake rebuffed the topic. I realized that whatever had happened to the knee was somehow related to the kidnapping and, so far, that area of conversation was off limits to me. Last night’s confrontation was proof of that. Something I did triggered a flashback. The look on his face when he jumped out of bed, took my breath away. It was pure, agonizing fear. He was clearly reliving something terrible that had happened to him. My heart ached for him in a way I couldn’t explain. I loved him so much and his pain was my pain. I wanted desperately to help him but I also understood that his pain might run too deep to ever be sated. Just thinking about it made me cry.
That day we kept to ourselves. Jake had things to do to prepare for his concert that night. I stayed in the bus and read a book on my iPad. An hour before the concert I went into the arena and walked into his dressing room. Jake was slumped miserably in his chair. He looked visibly ill.
“Are you okay?” I asked, alarmed.
Jake didn’t answer.
“Jake?!”
“I’m fine,” he whispered.
I got up and walked over to him. I felt his forehead with the back of my hand.
“You aren’t fine. You’re burning up,” I said in concern.
Jake stood up and limped over to his bag.
“You can’t perform tonight Jake. You’re sick.”
“I’m not sick. It’s my knee. The swelling is causing the fever,” he said as he dumped a few ibuprofen pills in his hand then swallowed them down. “It’s not a big deal. I can perform.”
“If you have a fever due to the swelling, Jake, that means you have an infection. You need antibiotics.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware you were a doctor,” he replied in a condescending tone.
Anger gripped me. I glared at him. “Asshole.”
Jake shook his head like I was being annoying.
“Oh…I’m sorry. Am I being an annoying bitch? Forgive me for being worried about you. But, you know what? If you want to pass out on stage, be my guest. I’m going back to the bus,” I said as I opened the door.
“Casey.”
“No…you can talk to me when you can treat me with respect,” I spat as I stomped out of the room.
I breezed past a surprised Sean saying loud enough for him to hear me, “He has a fever. He’s burning up and can barely walk. Someone needs to do something. He won’t listen to me.”
“Wait Casey…where are you going?”
“Back to the bus. I’m not going to watch him pass out on stage,” I said as I stamped off.
I went back to the bus and was changing into my sweats when I got a text from Sean.
“He won’t listen to me either. I’ll keep an eye on him during the show.”
“He’s burning up.”
“I know. I can tell.”
“He needs to drink a lot to stay hydrated,” I text back.
“Okay, I’ll make sure he does.”
“Thanks Sean.”
“He doesn’t mean it, Casey. It’s the pain talking.”
“I know.”
“Considering what he’s survived, it’s amazing he isn’t angry and withdrawn all the time.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But Jake really likes you Casey. I’ve never seen him happier. Don’t give up on him.”
It touched me that Sean cared. We had become unlikely friends in the past couple of weeks. Both of us were worried about Jake’s decline. At first I assumed Sean was only worried because it was his job to worry but now I understood that he genuinely cared about Jake’s well being.
“I’m not going to give up on him. I promise.”
“Good. And I’ll talk to him…convince him to see a doctor.”
“Okay thanks.”
Later that night, after the concert, Jake stumbled in. Somehow he’d managed to stay upright for the show but he was looking worse than before. His skin had taken on a flushed color and sweat was rolling down his face and neck.
“You don’t look good.”
“I don’t feel good. I need to sleep.”
“Did you take a shower?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re just dripping sweat.”
“Sorry. Do you want me to sleep in a bunk?”
“Of course not,” I scooted over and he collapsed on the bed next to me. He was out in seconds. Concerned, I watched him for a while before falling back to sleep. I woke up to Jake screaming out in pain. I shot up in the bed. His body was radiating intense heat. I felt Jake’s forehead. He was on fire. The bus was moving. I checked the clock. It was four in the morning. His screaming stopped suddenly.
“Jake?”
No response.
“Jake, wake up.”
He groaned.
“Jake?” I shook him. His eyes rolled in his head. Something was wrong.
I jumped out of bed and ran to the front of the bus. Lassen was at the wheel.
“You need to get to a hospital, now,” I shouted.
“What’s happening?” He replied in alarm.
“He was screaming in pain and then just passed out. I can’t wake him up,” I said, a sob escaped my throat.
“Jesus…is he breathing?”
“Yes, but he’s burning up, Lassen. I mean you can feel the heat coming off him.”
“Okay, I’ll call Sean and get directions to the closest hospital. Get some ice packs from the freezer and put them on his wrists to cool him down.”
“Okay,” I said with tears running down my cheeks.
“It’s okay, Casey. I’ll get him to a hospital.”
I ran back to check Jake before going to the refrigerator and pulling out all the ice packs we had. I placed two on his wrists, one on his forehead and one on his knee. Jake roused but started screaming in pain again. He threw the ice pack off his knee.
“It hurts. It hurts,” he muttered incoherent. His eyes were rolling in his head. “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry. Don’t…noooo…just kill me. No more. Just kill me. Please. Don’t hurt me anymore.”
It took me a moment to realize that Jake wasn’t talking to me. He was having another flashback. He was talking to Ray, the guy who kidnapped him. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as I listened to Jake plead with his kidnapper to end his suffering. How bad must it have been for him if he was begging to die?
“It’s me Jake. It’s Casey. Tell me what I can do to help you,” I cried.
Jake stopped talking. His eyes found me and he tried to focus but the fever was pulling him back.
“I’m here Jake. I’ve got you,�
�� I said as I grabbed his hand. “Look at me.”
“Casey?” he whispered.
“Yes. Keep looking at me,” I urged. I didn’t want him to have to go back to that terrible place in his mind. I started talking to him about all the things we had done and all the places we had gone. Jake listened. He even tried to smile when I reminded him of funny things. I kept Jake’s attention away from his pain…away from his torment.
Thirty minutes later, Lassen pulled the bus up to the entrance of the emergency room at a hospital somewhere in Germany. He ran out of the bus and a few minutes later he came back followed by a doctor and two nurses. By this point Jake was barely conscious. He groaned in pain but was otherwise lethargic.
The three health care professionals circled around the bed. The nurses seemed momentarily stunned by their famous patient but the doctor was unfazed. He checked Jake’s eyes and felt his pulse. He said something to one of the nurses in German and she quickly exited the bus.
“Jake my name is Doctor Stolts. Can you hear me?” The doctor asked in near perfect English.
Jake didn’t answer.
“Jake, open your eyes.”
Jake’s eyes fluttered open but closed just as fleetingly.
“Has he taken anything?” Dr. Stolts asked me.
“Um…he has been taking a lot of Ibuprofen and Tylenol,” I replied.
“He means drugs,” Lassen said looking pissed by the question. “No, Jake doesn’t do drugs.”
The doctor looked at Lassen. “I need to know if he has taken anything so I can help him.” Then he looked at me. “Miss?”
“No.” I said. “At least I don’t think so. Jake isn’t a drug user.”
“How long has he been like this?” the doctor asked.
“Well, like this…about an hour but he has been in extreme pain for about a week.”
“Where is his pain?”
“Left knee,” Jake answered for himself through gritted teeth.
Dr. Stolts moved down to Jake’s knee and lifted the sheet.
“Don’t touch it!” Jake screamed out suddenly. “I need an orthopedic surgeon.”
“I’m just going to take a look,” the doctor said as he went for the Velcro wrap.