Page 41 of Sticks and Stones
Corbin had been through a lot.
Only, Ethan needed to push a little, so he could assess the situation for them.
“How about you let me see you?” Ethan asked, knowing that would be the first step. “So I can figure out my next steps to help you.”
It took him a good minute to answer, but finally, he did.
“Okay,” he whispered, knowing he could trust Ethan to read the room and know what to do, and what not to do.
Pity.
Him.
Honestly, he couldn't bear it. Already, Corbin was pitying himself plenty.
And blaming himself.
Anymore and he’d slide deeper into the pit, and never get out.
Pulling the cord behind the bed, the light went on in just that area, and Ethan was able to see the bed better. Then, he slowly pulled the blanket down to reveal Corbin beneath it.
AndHOLY SHIT.
Corbin was a mess. Whoever did this to him worked him over, planning on killing him. This wasn’t a fight but a murder.
Somehow, Corbin survived it.
His face was battered, he was missing a tooth, and one was broken in his mouth. His cheekbones were swollen, and his one arm was in a cast. His neck, legs, and arms had angry red slashes on it like someone took off a belt and used it to whip his body relentlessly. Around his throat, there were handprints like someone had choked him out.
A few times.
What they did to him was nothing less than brutalization.
That rage simmered, but his first instinct was to protect and soothe. After his abduction, Corbin had tried to help him each time he saw him.
“Hey,” Ethan said, gently brushing some of his hair from his face as he risked some bodily contact. When he didn’t flinch, Ethan ran his hand up and down his unbroken arm to soothe him.
“I’m a mess,” Corbin whispered. “It’s bad,” he said, not having seen it, but he was feeling it. He’d never felt this bad in his whole life.
His body hurt.
His jaw and mouth were screaming in pain, and he didn’t know how he’d come back from this.
At his comment, Ethan was honest.
“Yeah, you’ve seen better days, Corby, but these injuries will heal. I promise. With a little time, they’ll fade,” he added, knowing what wouldn’t.
The sexual assault.
That would take therapy, time, and patience.
With tears in his eyes, he stared at Ethan.
“I need a favor.”
He waited.
“Get me out of here,” he whispered through his hoarse voice. His throat was raw from all the screaming he’d done during his assault, and when he’d called for help from the dumpster. “I don’t want to be here. Can you please get me out of here?”
