Page 58 of Fear
Jake heard the click, and Roger was gone.
AFTER WEEKS OF STRUGGLING with what felt like a smothering hood over his head, losing his sense of up, down, and survival, Tobias could finally take full breaths. Jake had, at last, told Tobias explicitly what he had to do to please him, and regardless of whether or not that would be easy, how long it might take him to learn or what might happen in the meantime, Tobias felt stable for the first time in the real world.
He recited Jake’s rules constantly in his head, running over the exact phrasing until he could repeat each rule backward and forward at a moment’s notice. Jake had yet to test if he’d been listening, if he remembered, but that was unimportant. Tobias had rules now, and he had to be prepared.
Tobias had decided almost immediately that Rule Two would be the easiest. Despite the urge to tell Jake how very, very sorry he was every time he fucked up—he could do better if Jake would be patient and give him another chance—Tobias had forced himself to be silent under far more strenuous circumstances, so he should be able to control himself now, especially since Jake had promised he would not, no matter what, put Tobias back in FREACS.
Rule One wouldn’t be much harder. He hadn’t consciously chosen to hurt himself, but he could break the urge. He had done more difficult things before and with less forgiveness.
Rules Three and Four were much harder to parse. Tobias understood the individual words, but he couldn’t visualize situations in which these rules would come into play.
For example, if he was being hurt—in any way, Jake had said—Tobias was supposed to hit them back. Barring any alternate real-definitions of that phrase, Tobias had to take that to mean he should initiate a literal, physical attack. So there were certain times—obvious to Jake because he knew his way around the real world—when Tobias was supposed to respond with violence.
If Jake had been referring to situations with monsters, the rule was perfectly applicable, but almost unnecessary. Jake had told Tobias that he didn’t want him hurting himself, and as far as Tobias was concerned, letting another freak get the better of him would be about the same as clawing up his own arms.
But Jake couldn’t have meant him to use force on reals, and absolutely not against hunters, because the repercussions—Tobias shuddered hard, involuntarily, even considering them. Even more baffling, Jake had said you hit them hard . . . even me, which was absolutely nonsensical. Not only because Jake had never hurt Tobias, but because he was Jake.
At least he had offered him an alternative. Or yell at them or just get out any way you can. That should be easier than physically retaliating, but Tobias didn’t know if he could do either of those things, at least not until he was tested. He might not do it well the first time. He wished he could be tested just to get the failure out of the way and figure out what he had to do to make his body obey.
But he had to trust Jake too that he had meant the last caveat. That was as impossible to imagine: how could nothing happen after he disobeyed a rule?
Rule Four was just as difficult, though it didn’t scare Tobias quite as much, because it didn’t demand any aggressive acts. It demanded words, yes, words that would not be easy to voice, but he didn’t see how Jake would know for certain every time if Tobias was breaking it. Yes, sometimes he gave himself away with noises he couldn’t prevent and defensive motions he should have broken himself of years ago, but Jake had never liked those anyway.
For the first time since leaving Freak Camp, he found himself again balanced on the knifepoint of behavioral requirements and expectations. But for now, at least, he only had to focus on the first two rules (don’t hurt yourself and don’t apologize) and keep the other two in mind.
And every hour that Jake didn’t reprimand him for his failings, didn’t tell him to kneel while Jake took out his knives, it got easier. First, because this was obedience, and Tobias could overcome a great deal of instinct with that excuse. But secondly, every time he choked off another apology or explicitly named what he wanted, Jake smiled a little wider, relaxed a little more.
He was doing what Jake wanted and making him happier. For now, that was enough. He didn’t have to worry about the harder rules yet.
JAKE LIKED HOW DINNER had gone. There had been a tense moment when Tobias dropped a fork while he was setting the table—he’d frozen like a rabbit about to bolt, before letting out a shaky breath, picking it up, and returning to the kitchen to replace it with a new fork—but otherwise, it had been good.
Jake had made chicken cordon bleu—sliding it from a box in the freezer into the oven, but sue him, his skills weren’t in the kitchen—and the conversation had moved along steadily from Jake laboriously piecing together Tobias’s favorite parts of his latest book using the most innocuous questions he could think of to Jake recounting his last major pool hustle. It had involved three idiots, their blond bombshell (and much smarter) sister, a ferret and two pigs, and by the end of the story, Tobias was smiling over his glass.
When Jake polished off the last piece of oozing cheese, Tobias got up, that same half-smile lingering on his lips. “Can I do the dishes?”
“Go for it,” Jake said. “Though if you need help, just say. It’s not like I really cooked or anything.”
Jake felt lazy letting him do all the work, but Tobias looked happier, steadier when he was doing something. Jake had to remember that while he needed things (rules they both lived by, assurances that Tobias was twitching just because he was twitching and not because Jake was hurting him), Tobias had needs too. And if he wanted to set tables and clean and cater, well, Jake could live with that. Granted, it was easier, too, to sit there with a couple beers and a decent dinner in him.
Outside, a car door slammed, followed by a couple of muted adult voices along with the high piping of a little girl. Jake guessed it was the family that lived under them. He’d seen the parents several times since he’d moved in, though he hadn’t done much more than nod and flash a smile on his way out. They were a young couple with a yappy dog and a pink-cheeked toddler with curly blonde hair, and they looked about as apple-pie civilian as you could get. Maybe sometime when Tobias was more comfortable (and that would be when, not if), he and Jake could introduce themselves. It would help Tobias to meet people who treated him decent, for him to see that they saw him as nothing more threatening than a shy kid.
The family must have just reached their front door when the mutt started barking, and the girl greeted him with an earsplitting shriek of joy.
A second later, Jake heard the unmistakable smash of glass in the kitchen. Jumping up, he hurtled around the corner.
The glass had shattered around Tobias’s feet. No blood, and Tobias was wearing shoes. He’d be able to walk off the tile without cutting his feet so Jake could sweep up the glass.
It was okay. Everything was fine—an adrenaline kick, but manageable—until Jake looked up and saw the pallor of Tobias’s face. His eyes were wide, horrified, staring blankly at the shards. When he noticed Jake, he flinched away with a gasp.
“I’m s—” he started, and then bit off the word. Jake saw a shudder race through him, and Tobias shook his head. “I’m sssss—” He gasped, fighting for breath. He made a low noise, part hiss, part moan, and practically caved in on himself.
I’m sorry. Tobias was trying to follow the rule. Jake, sick and horrified himself, lunged forward to catch him before Tobias’s knees hit the floor.
“It’s okay, Toby, you’re fine, I’m fine. It’s just a glass, you’ll be fine. Step over it, we’re going to the living room. Big steps, no glass shards, okay?”
Tobias was warm and shaking in his arms. Jake knew it was unreasonable, but he wished they’d somehow gotten past these breakdowns. Every time Tobias collapsed in his arms, it cracked his heart open again.
They didn’t make it to the couch. Jake got Tobias into a chair and pulled the other one close to him. “Toby, breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay, I swear.”
