Page 7 of The Devil's Embrace

“What’s the last thing you remember?” the doctor asked.

“Um…” He thought back, worried for a second when his mind came up blank, then sighed in relief when something clicked into place. “I was at my dumb high school reunion. It sucked. I shouldn’t have gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear you had a bad time.” The doctor stuck close but pulled over a wheeled tray and started to organize items on its surface. His motions were meticulous but casual.

“You’re going through a lot of trouble to try not to spook me,” Calix observed. “Just give it to me straight, Doc. What happened to me?”

“You really don’t remember?”

“I don’t—”

“A few people saw you leaving with another man. You disappeared upstairs with him. Does that ring any bells?”

He’d what? Why would he have gone anywhere with anyone? No one at that school liked him. They all—

Oh.

The doctor noticed his change almost before he did, turning to set his palm on the center of his chest once more in a move meant both to hold him down and provide some sort of comfort.

Calix’s lungs constricted, and he gasped.

“You’re hyperventilating,” the doctor explained calmly. “It’s all right, Detective. It’s over. You’re safe now.”

“I…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. Not yet.”

Yetimplied that eventually he would. As in, the doctor expected him to talk about it to other people and—

“No.” No, he was done being the social pariah. He’d put that role to bed years ago and he refused to allow anyone—evenHeathe D’Leo—to drag him back to that place. Calix didn’t need or want the spotlight.

He knew all too well what happened to the people put there.

“Detective—”

“I won’t be pressing charges.” Even though it hurt like a mother fucker, Calix forced himself to shove up into a seated position, pushing against the doctor’s hand until he had no other choice but to let up.

It hurt, and he momentarily swayed, at risk of toppling off the table like an idiot.

The doctor caught him, his hands steady on his shoulders. “Breathe. There you go. Just breathe through it.” He held him still as Calix focused on quelling the pain in his rear.

“I’m okay,” Calix said, once he was certain he could sit there without passing out. He brushed the doctor's arms aside, smiling at him lightly to show that he appreciated the help even though a part of him was mortified. By all of this.

The only blessing was that the actual violence against him was a blur. There were blips of memory here and there, but nothing substantial, all more feelings than anything.

Feelings he would much rather bury deep inside and forget.

How ironic, considering how often he’d fantasized about something like this happening to him. But fantasies were safe. Controlled. He’d felt gross about even wanting those and now—

“Detective Valimir,” the doctor retreated a full step to give him space, “a horrendous crime was committed against you. It’s understandable that you’re a little confused, but—”

“I’m not confused,” he cut him off, gripping the edge of the table hard enough his knuckles went white. The pain was still bad, and he just wanted this to be over. Wanted to crawlinto a hole somewhere to lick his wounds. He just had to make it through this first.

This, which was somehow more torturous than what’d been done to him in that classroom.

But maybe not more so than whathe’ddone to someone else in the parking lot that could be seen from the window in that room…

May the gods have mercy on that poor boy’s soul.

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