Page 43 of Left In The Dark

“I knew you were lying.” He pounds his fists again. “You’ve been fucking the pig lover, haven’t you? Here I thought you were better than that.”

Pressing my back to the nearest wall, I dissociate from where I am as he continues to yell obscenities on the other side of the door. Eventually I’m met with silence, and his car drives away. I look out the window and sigh in relief. Much like my dad, Hayden never wanted me, only what he thought I could do for him, and when I no longer held up my end of the deal, I got tossed to the side.

He would have done it too. They all do and always will. It’s the real reason I made sure I lost interest first. I did it before they could. If I didn’t ever love them then I woudn’t care whether or not they loved me. Or at least not as much. It would hurt less.

My dad loved me once before. More than once actually. The first ten years of my life to be exact. Then a switch flipped. Where I went wrong at such a young age, I’m not sure. I wish he’d told me so I could fix it, but all I had to go on were a bunch of what I thought were hints, never amounting to shit. Then there was the first guy I had a crush on, who moved on to a friend of mine months after placing me on a pedestal.

Was he bored of me? Did I put school before him too much? I never knew the answer. I had to have screwed up somewhere. It’s happening with my mom too, I can feel her slipping away from me. Out of all the people in the world, I never thought she’d shut me out, but the silence has stretched between us and I wish she’d tell me how to be the son she loved again.

Logan was loud about my mistakes. He shook me with his words, imprinting them in my brain before telling me what to do to right my wrongs. There was no guessing with him and it was a breath of fresh air. Logan also didn’t bait me with the good side of him first, gradually adding the bad. He started with his worst, sprinkling in bits of the nicer parts of himself that he shared more of through longer conversations.

Or was that some delusion of mine? Who am I kidding . . . It wasn’t real, and I had to stop myself from getting too close by hurting him first. This way, he’s walking away because I deliberately gave him a reason to and not because I wasn’t enough.

Twelve

Logan

Blake responded to my email yesterday. In twenty minutes he’ll be here. I can either leave before then or stick with my plan. My fingers thrum on the steering wheel and I look ahead, watching the cars go by on the highway on the other side of the dirt road. The building I’m parked in front of is abandoned and the only one on this strip.

Eighteen minutes. I drive to the back of the building and step out of my car.

Fifteen minutes. I can change my mind at any moment. It’s not too late.

Thirteen minutes. Eyeing my watch, I walk to the back door and pick the lock. It’s dusty inside, there’s plastic tarp everywhere, and I uncover a few chairs by the entrance. No one’s been in here for months at least.

Ten minutes. The hesitancy is heavy in my eyes when I gaze out the window. Touching the glass, I imagine him on the other side, happy and excited, unbothered by what he did yesterday and acting as if everything’s okay. Then his expression changes and the worry lines become visible. That fear matches what I felt. His anger vibrated off his body and it was pointed at me. He didn’t want to listen to Hayden but did anyway. He did what he told him to do, and that’s why I’m not leaving here without him. I’ll take him to where he can only hear and listen to my words. Only mine. I’ll be his only choice. All day, every fucking day. I saw them on my Instagram timeline, kissing in Blake’s car after leaving me freezing in the middle of nowhere. He fucking left me there so he could kiss Hayden.

Seven minutes. My feet slide back after I turn the lock and step away from the door, eyes on my watch. Two fliers caught my attention on the drive here, mocking me. I was sitting against the tree with my pants off and they were snapping pictures. One was sent to me from Blake’s phone at midnight, and I blocked him after deleting it. I started off with the upper hand all to wind up the loser anyway. Not anymore.

A smile stretches across my face as the minutes move faster on my watch and an engine roars outside. He’s here, and early. I can go back. I can forget all about what I planned to do here. I can forget about him and move forward. Past what he’s done and what happened between us. But then what? He turns out like his father? Or worse, he meets more people like Hayden and no longer can see another way to be?

I can show him a better side of himself when no one exists but us. There really is more to him than the harm he’s caused. Than the misery he’s bestowed on others. I’ve seen it. Glimpses that turn into moments, and they can grow into more. He can be more. More than someone who goes after married men, more than a bully, more than a person trying to please the wrong people by hurting others. Less self‑absorbed and only ever worried about how he’ll be affected. Hayden can’t be saved in any way, but I see so much potential in my little piglet.

The door pushes open and Blake steps inside, shivering from the cold. He lifts his sunglasses onto his head, tugging on his scarf and searching around. “Hello?”

The black ski mask pulls at my hair as I slide it over my face. It’s not too late to change my mind. I look at him again and his eyes are so empty. He’s slumping and losing patience.

Lowering his face into his scarf, he mutters something to himself and turns around. He looks at his phone and then shakes his head, reaching for the door. Before he can step forward, I jump behind him and press the cattle prod into his hip. His body shakes against mine. I wrap my hand over his mouth and he struggles against me, elbows swinging back and legs twisting as he screams into my palm.

I shock him on the bare skin of his back after lifting his shirt, and then again on his neck. His body goes slack and he whimpers, tears wetting my skin. I move my hand away and he chokes on his next sounds. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” I say in a deeper, gruffer voice to disguise mine. “I’m going to save you.”

Turning his head, he looks at me with glossy eyes. “Save me from what?”

“From continuing to make the wrong decisions.”

His lips rub together and he looks more relieved than frightened at my last words. Not wanting to drag this on longer than I have time for today, I press the hot metal to his carotid and he slumps forward, eyes closing.

He’s heavier than I expected him to be when I carry him through the back entrance and lay him on soft blankets in my trunk. Lifting the rope from near his head, I work quickly to hogtie him, slipping my fingers between the rope and his skin, not wanting to cut off any circulation.

Soft sounds slip from his lips and I trace over the tear streaks on his cheeks. He really is beautiful when he cries. But only when it’s because of me. There’ll be so many opportunities for that to happen too, and I will take full advantage of each one.

Thirteen

Blake

Muscles screaming, I open my eyes and blink as I take in the room I’m in. I don’t recognize any of it, and as I gain more consciousness, I realize I can’t move my legs and arms. I’m hogtied. Rocking from side to side, I try to scream but my mouth is gagged. All I can recall before this moment was turning up to meet the agency who contacted me about the Calvin Klein shoot. Everything in between is fuzzy, not fully coming into focus in my brain.