Page 43 of Fear
“Sorry, Tobias. I shouldn’t’ve . . . won’t . . . yeah.”
He flexed his hands to see if they really were working—everything felt numb, and he wondered seriously if he’d short-circuited something in his head—and then grabbed the remote from the coffee table. He needed noise right now. He needed something to think about that wasn’t Tobias pleading for Jake not to touch him, to keep his pushy hands to himself. Jake didn’t look at Tobias to see if he was watching Jake with loathing or fear. He couldn’t take either.
He put the volume on high, walked to his bedroom, and closed the door.
TOBIAS DIDN’T WANT to watch the television. The flickering lights reminded him of the strobes occasionally used in interrogations, or the spotlights that cut through the yard during the demon attack years ago. The lights didn’t bother him when Jake was next to him, or when he could sink into a book. But now, Jake was in the other room, and even thinking about reading made Tobias sick. With short, halting steps, he moved to the couch and sat down.
It felt like forever. It felt like no time at all. Tobias was so sunk into his own despair (he was just a whore; he’d managed to make Jake even more upset; he wished he could turn off the light and noise and be alone with his misery, but Jake had turned it on and he didn’t have the right) that he didn’t hear Jake leave his room, didn’t know he was coming until he was just there, staring at him from beside the television.
Looking into Jake’s blank, drawn face, Tobias tightened his hands over his own arms and bowed his head to his knees. Here it was. Jake couldn’t just ignore it anymore. Tobias had absolutely, definitely done something wrong, and there was only one logical result.
“Tobias.” Jake’s voice sounded rough, like he’d been screaming. “Can I sit down?”
Tobias’s hands tightened involuntarily until he felt his nails digging into the flesh of his arm, and he abruptly let go. Jake had been very clear about that rule, that he could not hurt himself—wouldn’t do a good enough job, anyway—and he couldn’t. He would not break any rules. He was obedient. Not good or clean or worthwhile, but obedient.
He couldn’t answer, though. It had been a question, but there was no possible answer that Tobias could give. The couch was Jake’s, and Tobias was Jake’s, and he could do what he liked on and with his property.
“Yeah, I’ll sit down then.” Jake lowered himself—had he been hurt? Why was he moving that way, like something was broken?—onto the couch more than a foot away from Tobias. He picked up the remote and turned off the television. The sudden absence of light and noise hurt almost as much as its presence had grated. Like cold water on a fresh burn.
“Tobias.”
He flinched. He had always loved that Jake used his name. Without Jake, he would have lost that years ago and been nothing but Pretty Freak and Whore. But now it hurt because in reality, the other two names were all he was. Maybe it would hurt less if Jake acknowledged that.
Jake continued, not really waiting for any kind of response. Not that Tobias expected him to. “I know you’ve been . . . they hurt you. Those bastards at camp. I’ve seen the black eyes and the . . .” He gestured at Tobias’s forearm.
Tobias’s mouth went dry, and his right hand tightened around his left wrist. He could feel the bones grinding together and couldn’t stop himself.
“But I think . . . if I hadn’t been such a coward, I would’ve asked you right after the first night, when . . .” Jake closed his eyes and took a deep, pained breath. Had he broken a rib? How? “Tobias, did they . . . fuck, I don’t even know how to ask.”
Tobias didn’t know what Jake was asking. He didn’t want to know. Even though Jake couldn’t possibly have learned in such a short period of time, it seemed like he was asking about that.
“Fuck.” The word was quiet and heartfelt. “Tobias, I know they hurt you, but did you . . . look, I need to know . . . did they . . .”
Then Tobias knew exactly what Jake wanted to know, and he couldn’t hold back the panic with the blinding realization that Jake wanted to know if he had been fucked.
He hadn’t. Jake had to believe that, or this was all over. It would be over tonight.
“No!” The word was too violent, too much like a lie, so he tried to drag it back, but Jake had to believe him. “No, no, no, Jake, they didn’t, I d-didn’t l-let them, I p-promise. No, please please please, they n-never did, I swear.”
He was almost clawing at his leg with his left hand while crushing his wrist with the right. He could feel his throat closing up, and fuck, how could he be close to crying at a time like this, when it mattered so much that Jake believed him? Tears, begging—those never persuaded or staved off pain.
When Jake caught his wrists, gently pulling his hands apart, Tobias sobbed once and forced his body to be still, tried to be obedient, whatever that meant at this moment, whatever Jake wanted, whatever would relieve the pain Tobias could see in Jake’s body. But Jake just planted Tobias’s hands together on the couch next to his own thigh.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay, Tobias. I believe you. It’s okay. Don’t do that, don’t hurt yourself. I believe you, it’s okay.”
Jake didn’t sound like he completely believed him. He sounded like Tobias had to do more to prove himself. He had heard that tone many times in his life, and he was still here, alive and sitting on Jake’s couch because he had obeyed, because he had proven his sincerity in any way that was necessary, and he would again.
“They didn’t, Jake. I swear they didn’t.” When Jake reached for him, Tobias curled up in spite of himself, even though everything he was belonged to Jake.
“Tobias.” Jake’s hand brushed over his hair, then nudged his chin until he’d raised his head to see Jake. The touch was still so gentle, soft, and Tobias didn’t understand why there wasn’t any pain. Where was the fucking pain? “I believe you, Toby.” Jake sounded like he was trying to prove it to Tobias. Tobias didn’t understand. “It’s okay. I’m glad those bastards didn’t . . . It’s okay.”
Something was wrong with Jake. Even though Tobias didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t keep his hands still on the couch, couldn’t even keep his eyes on Jake without trembling.
“Yeah, I’m glad they didn’t.” Letting go of Tobias’s face and wrists, Jake leaned away. He rested his head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. “’Cause that’s just not okay, Tobias. No one should do that. You get that?”
“Y-yes, Jake. I und-d-derstand. They d-didn’t.” There was something sad in Jake’s eyes, like he really didn’t believe Tobias at all, like he regretted what he would have to do to Tobias because he was lying. But Tobias wasn’t lying, he hadn’t, he wouldn’t, and if Jake didn’t believe that, Tobias would be lucky to end up dead by morning.
The other option, if he couldn’t prove now that he had done everything he could to stay whole for Jake, was that the Director would hand him straight to Crusher when he was returned to FREACS, because he wouldn’t even be worth training anymore. “They d-didn’t, I s-swear.”
