Page 8 of Surface Scratch
He didn’t want to know what they were planning to do with him. He didn’t care. He just felt every fiber of his being screaming at him to get away.
His foot landed on the blond man’s hip, knocking him back just a single step. Caleb opened his eyes in time to see the blond’s fist flying toward his face, making contact with the side of his head.
The world tilted. The big guy must have let go of his elbows because he was suddenly on the ground, his vision blurry as his eyes burned and the ringing grew louder in his ears. A sharp pain exploded in his torso as the blond kicked him in the gut, his lungs seeming to vanish into the black hole of the impact. He felt his stomach lurch, bile filling his throat and threatening to spill onto the carpet. He tried to gasp for air, but none entered his body. Caleb’s eyes fixated on the other man on the ground, his bruised face peering at back at him through trembling fingers.
“Petrov, let’s take this one back with us, he can keep my Adam company.”
Still desperate to draw breath, Caleb forced himself onto his palms, his vision doubling for a second as he blinked rapidly. He needed to find a way out or to scream as loud as could for help.
He felt the rough hands of the big guy, Petrov, on his waist, and he gasped as he was pulled to his feet like he was a rag doll. He clawed at the hands around his waist. “No!” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he wheezed in a ragged breath. Petrov’s big arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms and hands to his sides in the world’s most uncomfortable bear hug.
His eyes widened as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Adam had gotten to his feet, his shoulders hunched and his left arm draped across his torso as he clutched his ribs. His green eyes were so wide the whites of his eyes reflected the black light, making him appear almost feral.
“Don’t…” Adam whispered before whatever other words were in his throat were cut off by a violent sob. He grabbed the blond man’s shoulders, turning him to face him before pressing his forehead to his shoulder as another sob racked his battered body. “Vincent, please… d-don’t…”
Adam’s shaking legs buckled, holding on to Vincent to keep himself upright. Vincent wrapped an arm around Adam’s back, cupping his face with his free hand, his blue eyes drifting up as though he were listening to something no one else could hear as his expression softened. “Are you jealous?” he mused. His cold gaze snapped back to Caleb.
“I’ll g-go home,” Adam whimpered. He wrapped both his arms around Vincent, allowing him to support his weight. “Please, take me home.”
Caleb took a shaky breath, straining against the arms clamped around him. Was Adam helping him? He looked back and forth between the other two men in the room as they signed to each other. They looked like twins. The one without a beard flapped his hand at Vincent, making a gesture with his hands that ended with him pointing both fingers at the curtain, his eyes wide as he mouthed the word, “Go.”
Vincent nodded. “Stay,” he said to Adam. He pulled himself away from Adam as the bearded man, Luka, stepped forward and grabbed the unsteady man, looping his limp arm over his own shoulders to support him. Vincent stepped toward Caleb, once again grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling at his tender scalp. “It’s a shame to leave such a pretty thing with a beast that likes to break his toys,” Vincent said, leaning in so close that his lips hovered over Caleb’s. “It seems like Adam doesn’t want a playmate to keep him company, so I suppose I’ll leave you here. But if you’re smart, you’ll come find me before he decides you’re his. I can’t say you’ll be comfortable, but I can make you feel good.”
“What are you—” Caleb started. Vincent pressed a finger to his lips. Caleb clenched his jaw, a vague glimmer of hope rising in his chest. It sounded like they were going to leave him there.
Caleb looked back at Adam, the bruised man still holding his ribs and balancing on one foot, the other hovering precariously above the ground with a dirty splint wrapped around a visibly swollen ankle. That explained why he couldn’t run when Caleb had tried to help him. It dawned on him that Adam was staring at him, his once tear-filled eyes now narrowed at him, filled with a quiet fury that shook like the rest of him.
A sharp pain stabbed into the left side of Caleb’s neck and he flinched, his hand coming up to his neck as Petrov’s strong arms let him go. His head felt heavy and his limbs went slack like he had just run a marathon. “What did you…” The words came slurred out of his mouth as blood tinged with saliva dripped from his slack lips. His eyelids drooped like weights were attached to them.
He could only make out vague shapes in front of him and stumbled forward, his heavy feet not cooperating and tripping him.
“Good night, Caleb. Tell Marcus I said hello.” Vincent’s voice sounded far away, almost echoing in his ringing ears. A hand pushed him back, and he felt himself falling into an inky blackness that swallowed him whole.
Chapter Four
Asoft yet commanding voice was the first thing to pierce the blackness Caleb found himself surrounded by. “Acetaminophen and codeine. And maybe some ondansetron,” the voice said. It was incredibly close to him. His eyelids still felt like weights were attached to them, and he shook his head back and forth as his mind wrestled with whether to turn toward the voice or turn away. The throbbing in his head told him something was wrong, then the painful tightness in his hand, and the soreness in his ribs screaming out with every inhale. He heard his own voice next, a pained moan escaping from his barely parted lips, followed by a whimper.
“He’s waking up, take that out of your mouth,” a female voice said, farther away.
Caleb felt cool material beneath him, and the chilled air nipped at his naked chest. The image of Vincent’s smirking face popped into his mind, the blond man’s hands wandering all over his chest and shoulders. His arms flailed and his fists swung wildly as he jolted upright, his eyes bulging as he looked around. He gasped for breath, a sob already caught in his throat.
The room wasn’t lit with the purple and blue glow of the black light from the Members Only area, instead it was illuminated by a single standing lamp beside an end table near his feet. Caleb blinked rapidly, clearing the bleariness and sleep from his eyes as he looked at the man to his left.
Marcus sat on a coffee table, lowering a red-stained washcloth from his mouth and twisting it in his hands, his brows raised in concern. Caleb lowered his fists, drawing in a shaky breath and wincing as his ribs strained against his skin.
“Where am I? What happened?” he croaked, his throat aching and dry. He flung the thin blue blanket that lay over his lower half back, swinging his legs over the side of a brown leather couch to plant his feet firmly on the ground.
The ache in his neck and head throbbed, drawing another involuntary groan from him as he gripped the arm of the couch to steady himself. His body slumped, as if the muscles in his back didn’t work.
“Take it easy, Caleb,” Marcus said, reaching out to grab Caleb’s shoulder and steady him on the couch. “You probably have a concussion, so don’t move too fast.”
Caleb almost flinched at his touch, but as soon as he felt Marcus’s abnormally cool hands on his shoulders, his panic began to fade. He looked away from Marcus and around the room, trying to figure out where he was. The leather couch he had been lying on was against a wall, tucked between two end tables with bookcases on either side. Three plastic hospital washbasins were lined up beside Marcus on the coffee table. One was overflowing with bloodied gauze, one filled with water, and the other lined with bottles and packets of pills, ointments, and other medical supplies.
The rest of the room was spacious, opening up into a kitchen along the furthest wall. It seemed like it was bigger than Caleb’s entire apartment. Pictures adorned the walls, some of them in black and white and others in full color. He couldn’t make out what they were, his vision blurring every time he tried to focus on one area for more than a few seconds.
Caleb sank back into the couch, feeling his tense muscles begin to relax, a cool but comfortable feeling spreading from the shoulder that Marcus kept hold of to keep him upright. He felt a sob working his way up his throat, but he swallowed hard, trying to force the feeling away.
“Where am I?” he croaked again, rubbing his throat as the movement burned his larynx. He glanced down at his sore hand, seeing that all the blood had been cleaned off and his hand was expertly wrapped with an elastic bandage. The smell of antibiotic ointment lingered in the air, along with the smell of blood wafting into his nostrils from the medical bin.
