Page 45 of Ryder
He sighed, turning to look at us, his eyes suddenly looking haunted.
“You think child stars have it easy? You think we don’t get preyed on by every fucking perv in the business?”
Jesus Christ. We both stood up, my former boner forgotten.
“What are you saying?”
He moved forward, leaning his hands on the crappy excuse for a breakfast bar, his eyes on me.
“I’m saying that I know what it’s like, okay?Only I was preyed on by men, brother. Too young to fight them, or even really understand how wrong their behaviour was.”
Torch cursed beside me.
“You… how the fuck does that shit even happen?”
Has-Been glared at him. “Think I’m making this up? You think it’s a fun story to tell? You think it’s fun being a fucking child, and having men touch you, and tell you that it’s okay, because it’s just acting. Screen tests.Fucking auditions.”
The kettle boiled, but he completely ignored it. His fists were clenched now, as his mind went back to that dark time none of us had known about.
“The first time one of them raped me, I was too afraid to fucking tell. That went on for six fucking months.Six. Months.I was twelve.”
My god. I rubbed my hands over my face, wishing I could wipe away the harsh truths we were being hit with. This was so much fucking worse than some woman getting off without my consent. That poor fucking guy. Poor kid, even.
“See? There it is.The fucking pity on both of your faces. This. This right here, is why we don’t talk about this shit, and I get that. But, Ryder, brother… of all people, I understand. I get it. The shame. The humiliation. The fucking disgust. You asked me once, about the scars on my arms. That’s how I used to cope. See, they didn’t just stop hiring me because I grew up. I was a fucking mess by my late teens. Cutting myself to crap, and taking every fucking drug I could get my hands on.”
I sighed, stepping up to the counter, so we were literally only the width of the counter apart.
“Brother, you wanna get revenge on anyone, and I’m fucking there.”
He shook his head slowly. “Old news, innit. I’m nearly thirty. Nobody gives a fuck about kiddie-fiddlers from the fucking last few decades. It always was and always will be my word against theirs, and they’re all so fucking protected. Revered by the industry. I’m just some scummy biker, ex addict,fucking loser.”
I saw Torch approaching us, leaning on that counter so he was even closer to Has-Been.
“You’re none of those fucking things. You’re our damn brother, and you want to tear some of these bastards new assholes, I’m game. Got a new knife I wanna try out anyway.”
“Jesus Christ. I’ve seen what you do with knives and fire. Fuck that,” I muttered, a shudder of horror trickling down my spine.
Has-Been snorted. “I’ve moved on. I don’t need revenge on anyone. I just… I guess, I figured since Ryder is dealing with his business being shared with us, that maybe he’d feel better knowing he’s not alone.”
I stared at him. “I’m never going to be okay with what you just fucking told me. I don’t know how the fuck you dealt with that shit before, aside from all the self-destructive shit, but you have us now, brother. You never have to watch your own back again.”
He nodded once, like he wanted to move on, turning around and setting about making coffee, the kettle back on and boiling away.
“So what are you gonna do if she calls again?” Torch asked me, giving Has-Been the ‘out’ he needed, while I simply shrugged.
“Get a boner?I don’t know. I don’t know why it happened before.”
Has-Been shoved coffees at us.
“Our brains are complex bastards. Somehow yours is connecting her with sexual pleasure. Maybe it remembers more about that night than you’ve actually recalled.”
I wrapped my hands around the mug. It actually looked like a proper cup of coffee, not that sludge Reacher prefers. Thank fuck for that.
“Who knows? Nothing else was working, and suddenly her voice in my ear was all it took. It was a fucking relief.”
I couldn’t help but feel like an asshole, for even talking about this in front of Has-Been. If I thought what had happened to me could even compare to what he’d been through…
“Stop it,”he muttered, reading my thoughts as if they were written on my face, which knowing me, they probably were.
