Page 10 of His Favorite Color is Blood
Misha would have laughed if it weren’t so sad to hear. “All you really like about me is that I have no legs. I know people like you.”
Grim’s face twisted into a snarl. “People like me? You profited off us. You pretended you care what your viewers thought. You even replied to my letter once,” barked Grim, starting to pace again. “You are a liar. You even lied about your name, as it seems.”
Misha hugged the blanket around him and swallowed. Truth was, he didn’t think all his subscribers were bad people. It was the position he found himself in and not being able to tell anyone about it that made his suffering even worse. He was shocked by the flood of emotions that poured into his veins. “Your letter was nice,” he mumbled, and he knew exactly which one it was, because he’d found it in the Xbox package. The sender discussed a movie Misha reviewed two months back, and the envelope included some postcards and stories from a prolonged visit to Nashville. It was a normal letter without weird sexual content, different from the majority of comments he received, which were mostly about his looks and the porn he did. “I never got a penny for the vids. I was lucky if Gary got me my favorite pizza once a week. Don’t you understand?” He looked up, hating that the emotions he’d been shutting down for years were now pushing to the surface. He’d thought he was over it all. What was the shame of being fucked on camera when he knew some people had it so much worse? Whenhe used tohave it much worse. Less than a day ago, giving sexual favors to only one person was a relief, yet now he could hardly stomach the thought.
Grim stalled, turned away from Misha, and stared at the wall, rocking on the balls of his feet. When he finally looked back at Misha, his expression was flat. “How long have you been over there?”
Tiredness settled on Misha’s shoulders and made him slouch. “Over four years. Fuck. Fucking fuck.” Saying it out loud made it even more real. He hadn’t even been eighteen when he was first taken, he’d never had a real boyfriend, and now he was twenty-two, crippled, and completely wrecked.
Muscles twitched at the sides of Grim’s jaw, and he slowly rubbed his face with both hands. “You were never doing this from your home in Russia, were you?”
Misha shook his head, feeling even more exposed than he was during sex. He hated being seen as a victim. “I grew to like some of it,” he offered with a shrug. “At least something to pass the time.”
“Fuck!” Grim kicked the plastic vase he had earlier pushed off the table and messed up his hair, heaving. His eyes were moving all around the room, looking everywhere but at Misha. “Are you even gay?”
Misha nodded, once again realizing how much worse off he could have been if he were straight and caught Gary’s eye. “I’m very gay. I just … wish I could have been gay with someone I wanted.”
“So you don’t like me?” muttered Grim through his teeth. “And you fucked me because you were afraid of me?”
Misha could say “yes” and be done with it, but that wouldn’t be the truth, and seeing how confused Grim now seemed, Misha didn’t have the heart to crush his hopes. “I did mean it when I said you were handsome. I just … I wasn’t ready, and I’ve never been in a situation like this. No one ever asked me what I wanted.”
Grim slowly walked up to the pile of clothes on the floor and picked up his underwear, slowly putting it on, as if he suddenly became self-conscious about his naked dick. “Yeah, okay.” He brushed his hand against his nose and pulled the black shirt on.
“I’m sorry I tried to stab you,” Misha offered, but the weight of the atmosphere in the room wasn’t helping him breathe. He’d often imagined that getting away from the compound would be the happiest moment of his life, and yet here he was, confused and useless.
Grim slowly walked up to the bed and sat on the mattress. He turned toward Misha and pushed back his short hair. “So ... now what?”
How was Misha supposed to know? The only thing he did not want was a police record, which would lead Zero straight to him. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he whispered. “If you could take me to the nearest city … I’d work something out.”
“You’re not gonna be a burden,” said Grim quickly. “I’m not gonna leave you. You need help.”
Misha couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. He wasn’t ready to be on his own just yet. “I will need stuff,” he warned. “I promise to find a way to pay you back, but it will take time.”
“I have money,” said Grim, watching Misha with his intense grey eyes. “I promise nothing’s gonna happen to you while you’re on my watch.”
“Can I hug you, or would that be weird?” Misha wouldn’t dare blink, consumed by conflicting emotions. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t fully trust Grim.
Grim immediately moved closer and pulled Misha against his chest, going as far as cradling his head. The powerful heart that beat inside Grim’s chest was like a timer counting seconds since Misha left the compound. He wrapped his arms tightly around Grim’s neck, and it was the first time he’d ever hugged a man this way with honesty and of his own will. For once, the embrace of strong arms didn’t feel like a vise around his dignity.
“It’s gonna be fine. We will get you documents and a wheelchair. You’ll like it with me,” promised Grim, petting Misha’s arms. He sounded very eager to win Misha over, but it was clear he didn’t intend any harm. As aggressive and deadly as Grim was, his cruelty didn’t seem to extend to amputees. It was so odd to suddenly see the mutilation Misha had suffered as an advantage.
Misha wanted to say something like, “you shouldn’t feel obliged to help me,” but he couldn’t force himself to do that. He needed all the help he could get, and if Grim claimed to really like him, Misha wasn’t about to reject it. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for what I said. I know there are good people out there who are into me, but it’s hard to weed them out. I never met anyone through the website.”
Grim smirked and slowly pushed Misha away. “What do you think? Am I a good person?”
“I don’t know yet.” Misha pouted but kept his hand on Grim’s forearm. He made it seem as if his hand slipped there after the hug, but truth be told, he enjoyed the firmness of Grim’s muscles as long as their strength wasn’t turned against him.
“I’m not,” said Grim coolly, “but that’s why I can keep you safe. I’m afraid of no one.”
Misha bit his lip and finally took his hand off Grim. A tremble went down his spine. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Confident. I like that. Beats ‘nice’ any day.”
Grim laughed. “Nice guys are overrated. That word means nothing.” He squeezed Misha’s palms and massaged them gently, then exhaled, and slowly rolled to his back.
Misha could only agree with that. Gary would often use that adjective when he expected gratitude for bringing Misha food, a new T-shirt, or making sure he used enough lube when they fucked.
When Misha lay down and closed his eyes, the gruesome image of Gary’s dying body appeared under his eyelids, and relief flooded his heart once again. “Goodnight,” he whispered to Grim.
Chapter 5
