Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
* * *
Tam shouted and jerked awake.
“You’re okay,” Driver said, his voice soothing and calm. “It was just a nightmare.” He rubbed big circles on Tam’s back.
Tam blinked into the darkness. His eyes were wet so he wiped at them. His pulse still raced and the edges of his vision were dark.
“Shhh.” Driver’s warmth enveloped him, but Tam still shivered.
This time the dream didn’t fade away quite as quickly. It lingered, tinting the world in shades of red and black. Tam swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn’t go away. It pushed at him, grew so large it hurt, but he wouldn’t give it voice.
He wouldn’t.
He bit the inside of his cheek as fresh hot tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
“Let it out.” Driver pressed his lips to Tam’s ear. Such a simple sweet gesture, but it shattered him. He sobbed once, then clenched his jaw to keep it inside.
“Sorry,” he said through the pain. His voice wavered, but he continued, “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
Driver sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Talk to me.”
Tam shook his head even though it was dark and Driver couldn’t see him well. He didn’t want to poison Driver with his past any more than he already had. No one but Dr. Lee knew it all.
He hadn’t even told Ansel the details.
It was hard to hide physical scars from cigarette burns and handcuffs, but the worst stuff? That had scarred him deep. So deep that sometimes his bones trembled from the sheer sharp ache of it. Sometimes he thought his soul had been ripped into a billion pieces.
“I want to help, please.” Driver’s voice was gruff and pleading. “Please, Tam. Trust me.”
Tam turned and looked into his gray-blue eyes. “I do trust you.” His heart had slowed and his tears had dried, but the fear still clung to him. He was just no longer sure what he was afraid of.
“Not with this. Not with the hard stuff. I can take it. Let me share your burden.”
Tucking his knees under his chin, Tam hid his face. He couldn’t deny Driver something he asked for, not if it was in his power to give it to him. No matter how much it scared him.
“I ran away when I was fourteen.” His words were muffled but hopefully Driver would still understand that speaking clearly at this point was outside the zone of possibility. “My mother passed out early. My last trick dropped the cash on the table as he left. I took it and ran.”
“That’s when you came to the city?”
Tam nodded.
“I’m assuming things didn’t get better.”
“My therapist tells me it’s not my fault. I had few options and I was already so used to selling myself. I became a rentboy, sold my ass or mouth to whoever wanted to pay for them.” He paused, expecting some kind of reaction, but Driver remained quiet.
“There was this one guy, a regular. He only ever asked for a blow job, but it wasn’t like the others. He was rough. He made me call him Mister and kept me on my knees for hours. He’d always leave bruises.” Tam rubbed at his jaw where he sometimes still felt the ghost of Mister’s grip. It was because of him that he’d freaked out on Driver the first few times. He couldn’t stand anyone touching his jaw.
Driver didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He was still and silent. Tam couldn’t bear to look at him, not when the memories were so close to the surface.
“After our sessions, I’d have to carry those bruises around with me for weeks. Each time I was with someone else, I’d still feel his mark. I hated those bruises. I did everything I could to get rid of them sooner. But, like he knew, as soon as they faded he’d call again.”
Tam’s stomach twisted. “It was a long time before I realized that he wasn’t getting off from the blow job but from the torture he inflicted. He left those bruises on purpose. Their placement was specific and always, always the same. And as soon as they were gone, he made new ones.”
This was the hardest part, the thing it had taken months and months of therapy to admit. He twisted the duvet in his fist and took a steadying breath.
“Eventually, I...the marks... I... I wanted to keep them. The longer they remained, the longer I thought it would be before I had to see him again. I even went so far as to beg other clients to hold me the same way, to hurt me. If that didn’t work, I tried myself.”
“Oh fuck, baby.” So soft, so understanding. Not a trace of judgment or reprimand in Driver’s tone.
“It never mattered what I did. He always called before the month was over. When I was arrested the third time, I prayed to be locked away just so I could be away from him.”