A red tainted Silence (64 page)

“You don’t remember our wild passionate sex in the bathroom?” I said, whining.

He opened one eye at that. “No. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“I will. Your bedtime story, tonight, I promise.” I sank my fingers into his hair, running them through it, grinning at what a mess it was. Such a mess. And so dark. I wanted to highlight it again. Get him out in the sun. His face was so pale, and his cheeks were fuzzy. I rubbed them with my hands, making him smile. He needed a shave. Highlights, sun, and a shave. Maybe I could do it for him. The shave at least. That would be fun, especially over the cleft in his chin, I thought, stroking it with my thumb and looking at it thoughtfully. I wondered how hard it would be to --

“Earth to Nicholas.”

I grinned sheepishly, dropping my hands. “Sorry. Don’t push it, okay? Remembering.

Don’t push it. It’ll come when it’s supposed to. You need to rest. It’s more important that you rest than think.”

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“I know. But I hate not remembering. It’s right on the tip --” He shook his head in frustration. “I just can’t.”

“Please. Brandon. Don’t worry about it. The important thing is we get you well enough to come home. That’s all I care about right now, okay?”

“What about your CD’s release? The interviews? The photo shoots? I imagine Marisa’s having a cow about all this.”

“Actually, she’s not.” I shook my head at him. “You silly goose. You are what’s the most important thing to me. She knows that. Everyone does. And besides, Marisa says I’m doing pretty damn good without me.” He smiled at that. I kept my gaze steady even though inside I was screaming. Dammit, Brandon, oh! I could smack him for worrying about such petty things.

Fortunately, his ability to mind read was a little weak and he didn’t note my frustration with him. He licked his lips, his gaze straying to a cup with a straw in it. I picked it up and held it for him while he took a sip. He lay back on the pillow with an exhausted smile.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He smiled at that. “Lee was here.”

“I know. He came with me. He was really nervous to see you.”

“So were you.”

I looked at him in surprise. “What makes you think that?” He pushed the collar of my shirt aside, touching my flushed skin. “You were afraid of saying something to upset me. I’m okay, Nick, I promise.” He closed his eyes, and I was glad, because I knew he wasn’t. Far from it. But I didn’t need him to know that I knew that he was far from okay. I sat with him, holding his hand, watching his Jell-O melt in the warm room.

Soon his breathing evened. He’d fallen asleep.

I leaned over and kissed him, lightly, so damn grateful I could do that, could feel his breath on my face, smell him, taste him, wanting more than that but not wanting to wake him. Jon peeked in just as I kissed Brandon once more, his eyebrow raised in question. Lee was behind him. I motioned for them to come in but they shook their heads.

“We’re going to get something to eat,” Lee said. “Hungry?” I shook my head. I had no appetite. Except maybe for Jell-O. If that’s all he got, that’s all I wanted, too. “Can you bring me back a bottle of water, though?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Where’s the computer?”

Lee pointed to the corner, and I nodded. They left then, and realizing how bizarre it was, how strange it was that our roles had reversed so dramatically, I settled into the chair closest to Brandon so I could watch him sleep.

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Just like he’d done for me.

I opened my laptop, fumbling with it a little -- this was a new computer and I hadn’t completely gotten the hang of it yet, but soon enough found the file I was looking for.

Where I’d left off in my reading that morning. As voracious of a reader as I am, I’d run through a lot of what he’d written already. It had been fun and fascinating and yet strange, really, reading his account of what all we’d been through. But sad, too -- like the night he’d found out I was married, the part I was about to read. I kind of dreaded that. Big regrets, there.

That was also the night he’d been attacked. I frowned, fumbled through the file until I found the spot, and began to read. And as I read, I began to feel sick. Really sick. This was when it’d happened, when Seth Green had laid the groundwork for the next few years of my lover’s hell. It’d been Seth who’d attacked him, and as I read on, learning how Seth had entrapped Brandon into his snare. Because of that shirt. That fucking AC/DC shirt, the one Brandon had worn at the book store, had taken off and handed to me after Percy raped me to ... to ... wipe myself off.

“Oh, Brandon, no.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t have believed what Seth told him, that the shirt would nail me as responsible for the attack on Percy. “Fuck,” I whispered. Shit shit shit. Percy hadn’t even died. I couldn’t believe it. How beat down Brandon was -- that younger Brandon -- would believe such nonsense.

I glanced to where he lay so peacefully, safe and fast asleep. My sweet, beautiful, innocent, and horribly, horribly naïve Brandon. I laid my head back in the chair. Why hadn’t he told someone? I could’ve told him that what Seth had on him was nothing. Karen’s granddad could’ve told him the same thing.

Absolutely nothing.

But he hadn’t said a word to me. To anyone. Believing in his eighteen-year-old innocence that there was no other way to protect me except to trade himself for me. To be raped, again and again and again, while being filmed ... My nose tickled, my eyes burned, as I reread what he’d written, trying to understand what in the hell he was thinking.

He’d offered himself on a stake to protect me ... from something I would never have feared. I wouldn’t have sat back and taken that, I really wouldn’t have, because unlike before, I had Brandon by my side. I may be a pansy and a fluff, but I would’ve fought. I would’ve gone to someone for help. Gone to my friends at the shelter. They would’ve helped me -- legally, I mean -- to stop Seth Green from carrying out his plans.

Oh, Brandon.

But eventually the rapes had stopped, surely, maybe when we moved to Los Angeles the following year. I shook my head. It was all a mess in my head. The rapes, then the tape that was made of us, then the blackmail which was not made by Seth but he thought it was 380

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made by Seth, but the blackmail continued ... and he thought it was Percy, but Percy was in prison, and it couldn’t have been him --

Which meant, of course, that someone else was involved. We knew that, now, but who? And when? From the beginning?

The thought of that being the truth of the matter made me sick. From the beginning, from the time I came along.

If he had never found me, if I had never answered that ad, none of this would’ve happened. Brandon would likely be ... be ... what? What would his life have been had I not come into it? What would my life have been without him?

I closed my eyes over the bizarre twists and turns our lives had taken. I couldn’t think about it anymore; it hurt too much, confused me too much. I wanted to talk to Detective Anderson, ask him what he thought, tell him what I was slowly figuring out about all this crap.

I checked my watch. It was only ten in the morning, and I had hours yet before I had to go to the police station and see the video. I dreaded it, but now I felt desperate to figure out what else had gone on inside my lover’s head. I didn’t understand, really, how he could write about this stuff, but not tell me about it. Maybe he couldn’t, like, remember it to tell me -- that made no sense. Or maybe he did remember it but couldn’t say it, which was basically what he said in the beginning of his writing -- that he hoped through this I would understand him, that he couldn’t say what he was feeling but could write it.

I shook my head, my confusion growing. I had to talk to Dr. Yancy about this. I was glad now I had an appointment with her in the morning, even if she did intend to pry my brain open and peer inside. She could have at it, if it would help Brandon.

I glanced at Brandon sleeping, so peaceful, so clueless as to what had happened to him the day before. I was glad he hadn’t remembered, yet it terrified me, too. He had a habit of not remembering, it seemed. If he didn’t remember this, couldn’t exorcise what had happened from his mind, how could he ever get better? A walking time bomb. Ready to explode, any minute, and the thought of that happening to him, of maybe losing him to where I could never get him back, completely terrified me.

I had to get to work. I had to save him. I scrolled down to where I’d left off, and began to read, Brandon’s voice coming alive in my mind. Time passed, and he slept on. Every once in awhile, I’d get up and walk around the room, walk over to him and watch him sleep before returning to my reading. Nurses came and went, checking on him, one making me blush when she tossed his cover back and checked his catheter, handling my lover’s dickie like it was just a piece of meat or something. It made me cringe, seeing that thing in him. I couldn’t wait until it was out.

But at least all the nurses who came in smiled and nodded at me, offered me drinks, blankets, whatever I wanted. These nurses knew who I was and did not question my presence in Brandon’s room, my right to be there. Brandon’s mom came and sat with me for A Red-Tainted Silence

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a while, then left again. His dad poked his head in once, saw Brandon sleeping, looked at me -- and then gave me a nod, which actually made me smile.

“How is he?” he asked.

I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Ashwood talking to me, so normal. “Resting well. We talked for a long time.”

“Good. We’re going to eat lunch. Do you need anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, have you?” Caught. “No, sir.”

He nodded. “Turkey sandwich, coming up. Lettuce?”

“Um, please. Thanks. And tomato. And some chips?” He smiled, then glanced at his son again, nodding. “Be right back.” He closed the door, and I let out a surprised whoosh of air. Wow. Maybe I wasn’t the demon boyfriend anymore to Mr. Ashwood. Wow.

Mr. Ashwood brought me lunch, and actually sat with me while I ate. To make sure I ate. “Margaret’s orders,” he said with a chuckle.

Surreal.

Hard to believe this was the man who had said such horrible, hateful things to us so long ago. In time he left and Jon and Lee checked on me again, then went on back to the house for a while, to check on Barkley.

Katie came by and I went outside to talk with her, get some hugs and love, and I learned then that Katie was also expected at the police station. They wanted her to watch the video, too. So brave and determined, our Katie. I didn’t want her to see it, see Brandon raped, but she might help pinpoint exactly at what point Brandon lost it. That was important.

“I’m sorry, Katie,” I said, giving her a hug. She had tears in eyes.

“I’m sorry, too, Nicholas. I -- I hope Brandon will understand why I have to watch this --”

“Maybe it won’t be necessary to tell him. Unless you want him to know. Later, I mean.

If we even tell him about the tape at all.”

“I think he should know. It’s only fair. If you want me to quit, I’ll understand --”

“Katie!” I said, grabbing her fiercely. “Don’t you dare say that! We need you.” I pulled her into my arms and we hugged each other fiercely. I loved my Katie so much. No no no, Brandon’s Katie.

After talking a bit longer, Katie left, promising to wait for me at the station. We would watch the video together. Share each other’s strength. I found I dreaded it a little less now.

I returned to my chair, kept on reading, yawning tiredly after a while, but no way was I stopping. But the last few pages I’d started to note something, and Dr. Yancy’s caution came 382

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back to me. Look at what he’d written, yes, but also what he hadn’t. There were big gaps in what he’d written about what we’d been through, gaps that likely wouldn’t be so obvious to Jon, but made me wonder. The biggest gap came from when he wrote about us leaving Ashwood, promising Lee we would call him once we had a record deal. Such confidence we’d had -- it made me chuckle, remembering that day. How pissed Adam had been, how glad I’d been he was pissed. Hey hey. Nyah nyah, boy did we get the ultimate revenge --

though I never begrudged Brandon’s wish to help Adam out financially. We had millions.

Millions and millions, and what Brandon did with his money was fine with me. Even if it meant giving some to Adam.

Who, of course, took it. The bastard.

I got so skinny during those days, before we made it. I remember how hungry we were, not just for food, but for our music, for the imagined fame and riches we just knew would be ours. We were ravenous for it, ravenous for it all.

And for each other.

The sex had been incredible. Oh, gosh, had it been incredible. My face heated and my dick jumped just thinking about how incredible. Of course, it hadn’t exactly started out that way.

I scrolled back to that first time, shaking my head in disbelief as I read it again. I couldn’t believe he wrote about our first time! We’d done so much better the second time around, but he’d skipped that. When I wasn’t such an eager fuck bunny, gave him time to get ready. Why hadn’t he written about that? Such a silly boy.

But it was strange, to me, what all else was missing. What Brandon had left out, some of the most fun times we had, starving like we did in our little flat-with-kitchenette with only him and me, his guitar and keyboards, a bunch of notebooks and pens and pencils and a mattress on the floor. And a single lamp. The excitement of writing our first song in his parents’ house (while his dad was gone). Of recording our demos. Of getting some gigs here and there about Murrieta, the rush that came from seeing our little teeny tiny audiences build, our music catching on. Sending out our demos, spending hours sitting on the floor and labeling them, the pain of rejection when they’d come back, one by one.

And the overwhelming elation when we finally struck gold.

I yawned, closed my eyes. Just for a minute, I thought, my hands resting on the keyboard. Why hadn’t he written about those times? Why hadn’t he written about the first real time I took him, took him right, when we shared our passion and it was good and special and beautiful, so wonderful ...