A red tainted Silence (80 page)

Luckily, my mind did a better job than Brandon’s.

* * * * *

Brandon was mine again.

And this time, no matter what, though he had some terrible, unnamed fear inside him, he’d let me take him. Fill him. Oh, my God, it’d felt so good, fucking him again, loving him again. Holding him, just holding him would’ve been enough, but when I’d gotten out of the shower, so tired, so exhausted, and stood in his bathroom, saw his lonely toothbrush in its stand, the lone towel hanging on the rack, the single robe hanging by its single hook on the door, I got so hard so fast I almost giggled in relief. Crazy reaction to all that obvious loneliness, but it meant the world to me. No one had replaced me.

I know now no one could’ve, even had they tried.

I walked into his bedroom, eyed its stark simplicity, its bare, undecorated walls, and shook my head. Brandon would live in a box and be content. I really liked his beach house, though, and even as I stroked my dick, fondling myself to get harder because of what I was going to do, I let myself imagine what pictures we’d put on those empty walls.

I can hardly wait to make it our beach house.

474

Carolyn Gray

But first, I had a lot to do before I knew I’d see those walls again. Granted, I’d planned to see them again in no less than two weeks and here it’s been quite a few months and I have yet to see them again, but I will. I will.

That day, though, the only thought on my mind, truly, was walking into the living room buck naked and showing Brandon exactly how I felt about him.

And oh, my God, when he saw me, opened his eyes and saw me, he couldn’t deny it, the hunger in his eyes. The rush up my spine, I can feel it now, remember it so well, and I knew he felt it, too. He wanted me, he wanted me, he fucking wanted me!

A fantasy that had once been my reality was about to become real again.

Making love to him again after so long -- it was heaven. Pure heaven. He was mine again, all those others were forgiven. I didn’t care, as long as he was okay. Oh, I knew about the other lovers -- tricks, really, Jenn told me. Nameless, nearly faceless one-night stands, none of whom were allowed to resemble me. She and I kept in communication, unbeknownst to Brandon, and I knew all about the months of craziness he went through.

Underhanded, but fuck, she was just as bewildered by his behavior as I was. But unlike everyone else, she stuck by him. Thank God she did.

I fell asleep after we had sex twice. Made love. Too exhausted and worn out, I had to give in and go to sleep. I barely felt him ease away from me, certainly didn’t feel the blanket placed over me. Not until the next morning when I woke up to the sound of the surf beating against the rocks outside his back door did I know that he’d left me, covered me, then lain beside me on the floor rather than leaving me to go back alone to his big, comfortable bed.

I looked down at him, where he lay naked in his blanket, smiling at the sight of his lower half decidedly out of the blanket. I feasted my eyes as the morning light glowed on his beautiful, long legs, the light dusting of golden hair, the denser patch between his legs. He was soft, relaxed, just how I loved to find him in the mornings so I could bring his dick to life myself. Dream-induced hard-ons are wonderful, but being the control freak I am, I liked to do it myself.

But this morning, there was no time. I had to get to the airport. I watched him a moment longer, watched his eyes move beneath the lids as he dreamt (of me, I hoped). His mouth was open, just a little bit. He looked so hot with his hair long and unruly. With his beard, which decidedly needed a bit of trim, he looked like a golden wild man.

I wanted to touch him, longed to, but told myself no, it would be easier on him, and on me, if I slipped out of the house while he slept.

I got dressed, wrote him my note, and pulled out the little treasure I’d been dragging around with me for months, a bright blue teddy bear I’d bought for him in New York. I kissed it, placed it on the note, then left, having called a taxi and told them I’d meet them on the road. I didn’t want the horn to wake Brandon.

A Red-Tainted Silence

475

Everything else went without a problem. Got to the airport, caught my flight with time to spare, glancing at my watch often as I wondered if he was up yet. Had he found the bear?

Did he understand I was not going to let him get away from me again?

The flight was long. I was tired, but it went better than I’d hoped because the young woman with her babies next to me kept my mind off my troubles. I found myself pouring out everything to her, this stranger fate had sent to me. Her quiet understanding, her gentle questions, her encouragement that I was doing the right thing gave me strength.

Then after dozing off and on, which certainly didn’t help my exhausted state, we finally landed in LA. I picked up my car, made some phone calls while headed for the vet’s to get Barkley.

I don’t know why I stopped. I really don’t. I guess I was just lost in thought, overly tired and feeling rather sympathetic to everyone else in the world, and so when I saw this poor old man on the side of the road, trying to wave people down to help him, I stopped.

Fucking idiot total shithead me, I stopped, and seconds later felt my head explode as the “poor old man” hit me and stuffed me into his trunk.

I woke up. Not sure when, at what point, but I woke up, to find myself stripped, naked, wet from my own piss, and in a dog crate. I remember now the disbelief I felt, the whoa, wait a minute, what the fuck is going on here?

WAKE ME UP NOW, GOD!

He didn’t listen.

Oh, man, I was so freaked that when my captor started to take pictures, telling me to spread my legs, do ... do other things to myself, I just stared at him. I mean, have you ever walked into a situation and realized belatedly that oops, you shouldn’t have -- like walking in on your parents having sex?

I’d done that when I was, like, ten, and I’d just stood there, not really hearing my dad telling me to get out, Nicholas, close the door. Now. I’d just stood there, not really comprehending what I was seeing. Finally my brain snapped and I realized what the heck was going on and I got out of there, fast.

Except this time, as I went through similar processes, there was no turning around and getting out of there, because I was locked up in a dog crate, I was naked, and my head hurt, and I was dizzy, and I was cold, and I stank already. Bewildered and terrified, I almost started to hyperventilate, panic making me cry out first with threats and later ... later ...

Later, I begged.

Nothing worked.

I remember how at first I thought okay, I’ve been kidnapped, the ransom will be demanded and Brandon will pay it, and I’ll be freed, and it won’t take maybe a day, maybe two. I can handle this shit that long. I am strong. I am tough. I have the music in my mind to get me through the minutes, the hours ...

476

Carolyn Gray

But when those hours turned into days, the days into weeks, even I, Mr. Optimistic, lost faith. Rescue was going to be a long time coming, if at all. The only real hope I had to hold onto was what my captor had let slip that one time: Brandon’s going to love these. I knew then the pictures my captor so enjoyed taking of me were going somewhere -- to Brandon.

So I began to formulate my plan, and I began to listen for more clues, and little by little, I realized where I was. Up in the mountains, in Colorado. It was little things, tiny clues, him muttering about this or that, the radio that he’d sometimes listen to and a commercial would come on. And once, I was able to get the blindfold off and I saw a newspaper on the floor too far away for me to reach, but I could just make out a snow report for Durango, and I’d realized that’s where I was.

And then I’d blinked. Realized I knew exactly where I was. Bewildered, my heart racing and a scream tearing from my throat, I realized we were in a hunter’s cabin and it looked like one of the ones Brandon and I had gone to see when I wanted to buy him a mountain.

I could’ve been wrong. Turns out I sort of was, but I was close enough. Just one mountain off, but close enough for one determined man who loved me to find me.

When my captor came back and realized I’d gotten my blindfold off, he sprayed my cage with water until I got it back on, and then he left me alone for four days.

That was not fun.

When he’d come back, I was barely coherent. I had a fever by then, and was filthy, but I was ready. In the dirt on my side, I scratched a single letter, an A, and prayed prayed prayed he would take pictures of me in such a sorry state, and he did, thank God he did. And Brandon saw it. He saw the A, and by the time the next picture was taken and I got a Y past my captor’s eyes, Brandon told me later he knew then where to go. He’s used to completing my thoughts, is Brandon. And this time, it saved my life.

But he didn’t come for another two weeks, he told me later. It was two weeks after he got the E and finally got the R that he knew for sure. I thought I’d been through hell before, but it only got worse. My captor bought me a little heater, but it was only strong enough to heat one small part of me, so the rest of me would freeze and I shook for hours, for so long and so hard sometimes, it was so fucking cold, that oh, God, I knew I was going to die. In fact, I wanted to.

I bordered on hypothermia all the time, kept just warm enough not to slip into that state. I wanted to kick over the heater sometimes and will it to break so I could. You know how they say it is? You get so cold and slip into hypothermia and you start to feel warm, strangely enough, and you feel all cozy and safe and you fall asleep and just never wake up. I prayed for that. Begged God to let me go like that, but He didn’t listen.

Then one day, I don’t know after what letter, maybe after the R or the S, I don’t remember anymore, I heard a second voice. A female voice.

A Red-Tainted Silence

477

“Wow, so this is him?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Nasty bastard, ain’t he?”

I felt a presence outside the crate. “He’s shivering. You should give him a blanket.”

“Heater’s good enough. I’ll bring in his food.”

Did I mention all the food I had was dog food? Barkley will never eat dog food again.

No dog I ever own ever will. Ever.

He left, and I wasn’t sure if I was alone or not. “Help me,” I whispered. “Please, please help me, tell Brandon --”

“No, shut up. Don’t talk to me.”

“Please, please, I’ve got millions. I’ve got so much fucking money. I’d give it all to you, but please help me, please --”

“Shut up, hear me? Just shut up! I can’t help you!” I heard her quick footsteps out of the room. I cried then. I broke down and cried, because it wasn’t hate in her voice; it was fear, and unaccountable sadness.

Now lest you be worried, I was never sexually abused. Not once. Sexually humiliated, yes -- kept naked and forced to jerk-off while he watched ... Oh, yeah, my capture got off on humiliating me, but he didn’t once touch me like I’d feared so badly he would.

But what he did otherwise ... I can’t, I won’t think about it, I can’t ...

I can’t.

And then, finally, the day came that the door burst open, and I heard a horrified voice, the one I love above all others. He’d found me, knocked my captor out, and threw open the crate, pulling me out. He’d torn off my blindfold and I’ll never forget ... I’ll never forget his eyes.

Or my own screams as my captor pushed himself to his feet and grabbed a knife off the table. And though Brandon pushed me aside, I was so weak I stumbled into him and the knife sliced through my side. It was sharp, that knife. Very sharp. It went very, very deep.

The rest of what happened is a vague memory. I fell to the floor, darkness edging into my narrow vision and rapidly stealing it away. The pain was incredible. I saw the knife descend again, heard Brandon yell in agony as it sliced his back open. But my captor didn’t have what Brandon had -- he didn’t have anger, hatred, despair fueling him like Brandon did.

The fight lasted for hours it seemed, though later Brandon said it was only a few minutes. My captor picked up a hammer at one point and brought it down on Brandon’s leg.

That’s when it broke, I think. Or that might have been later, I’m not sure. But then Brandon dug deep into himself, and somehow, somehow ...

I remember looking at my captor’s sightless eyes as he lay on the floor next to me.

478

Carolyn Gray

Then the blessed warmth I’d prayed for, had craved for so long, came at last. Heat cloaked my body, and all my pain drifted away. Joy soared through me and all my fear dissipated as I floated into the sky. Blessed sleep tugged at me, begged me to accept it, and then I remembered nothing more, until I woke up in the hospital, Brandon at my side, tears staining his strangely pale face.

Brandon ...

“Hey, hey, Nick, you okay?”

I shook myself back to the present, and blinked. I’d all but forgotten Lee was with me. I slowly nodded. “Sorry, Lee. I just kinda got lost there.”

“You really did nearly die then.”

“They told Brandon I did die. Did you know that? Can you imagine that?” I said, unable to keep the horror out of my voice. And he’d very nearly killed himself because of it. So close, too close.

“I know. Marisa told me about the mix-up. I’m sorry, Nick. I’m so sorry you guys went through that.”

I took a deep breath, then turned off the Jacuzzi jets. “Yeah, me, too. Mind helping me out?”

Lee jumped to his feet. How I envied his grace, the ease with which he moved. He picked up one of the big, fluffy white towels Katie had bought and held it out. I took a deep breath and hauled myself out of the tub, grinning sadly as Lee wrapped me up like my mom had when I was little. He rubbed my arms briskly, making me laugh.

“Cut it out, idiot. I think I can handle this.”

He released me and grabbed another towel, wiped off his legs, and then headed into the bedroom. “Which drawer has your boxers?”

“Top drawer.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he said with a chuckle.