Page 22 of Bent, Not Broken

She patted me on the cheek. “Good boy.”

The world warped, twisted, and tilted, and all at once it was two weeks later. I was walking down the hallway with that old seventies carpet I’d always hated. It was familiar, and it took me a moment to realize I was back in my old home, the same one I lived in when I was fifteen. I knew what this was, when this was, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t turn around and run in the opposite direction. I didn’t have any control of my limbs. Stuck. That’s how I always felt in these dreams. No, not dreams. Memories.

The hall was narrow, the walls painted an ugly yellow that Mom always said reminded her of sunshine. The off-color cream carpet had bald patches. Dad said we would have it ripped out one day, replaced with hardwood that gleamed like new. That’s what he always said. It never happened. We didn’t have the money for anything new, and it wasn’t uncommon for that to be the topic of my parents’ nightly arguments.

“Mom?” My small voice echoed through the empty hallway as I walked farther down it. I knew what I’d find at the other end, but I couldn’t stop my legs from moving, or my child self from calling out for the woman who took care of me. “Mom, are you home? Why didn’t you pick me up from school?”

Silence met my questions, and the farther I walked, the harder it was to breathe.

“Mom, are you here?” My voice wavered, fear intertwining with the words. I remembered thinking I was alone, that Mom had finally left me for good because I hadn’t brought up my grades like she’d wanted. “Mom?”

The door to her bedroom was slightly open and I frowned at it, reaching out to press a palm against the chipped white paint as I shoved at it. The door swung open, the hinges creaking as it went, and the room was dark, like someone had pulled all the curtains closed. I switched on the light and the room filled with a brightness that blinded me for a second. My eyes adjusted, and then I saw her.

Blood.

There was blood everywhere, soaking the white sheets of her bed around a mangled body, the same one that belonged to my mother. One of her legs was bent like she’d landed awkwardly, and her arms were splayed above her head. Her ghost-white skin was marred with ketchup-dark blood and cuts, and her eyes were wide with fear, mouth parted as though she’d screamed. But that wasn’t what really happened. Her face slowly became a mushy, sliced mess. I’d found her flayed, like an animal. That’s what he’d done to her. I wanted to remember her face, but that’s not what I last saw.

I gasped, stumbling backward. “Mom?”

She didn’t answer. She never answered again.

Something touched my arm and I heard someone call my name. It was distant, like being underwater. Maybe that was appropriate because I felt like I was drowning in nightmares, one after another, my mother’s terrified and bloodied face the only constant in them.

“Slater!”

My body spasmed and my eyes shot open. I struggled, but a heavy weight held me down as I let out an angry shout. I punched blindly, and a curse met my ears. The heaviness was suddenly gone. The world spun and I blinked, reality slowly returning until I realized where I was—my bedroom.

The dark room didn’t give me much visibility, but a pained groan gave me a clue I wasn’t alone. I pushed myself to my feet, nearly tripping over a solid lump on the floor. I flicked on the light and the sudden brightness blinded me. After a few moments, my eyes adjusted, and Polunin fluttered his fingers at me in hello from where he lay. The clothes I’d ditched before I climbed into bed were underneath him.

“Polunin?” My voice sounded weird, but it always did after I had a nightmare like that.

He grimaced and curled his arm around his stomach. He was naked and lying on his side, one of his legs bent at the knee and his dick soft against his thigh. “You punch fucking hard, you know that?”

“Why are you still here?” I snapped, not sure what else to say because I was still catching my breath. We had sex, and I’d left him on the couch. I’d planned to kick him out again, but exhaustion made me lie on the bed, just for five minutes. But then I fell asleep. I glanced down at my naked body, winced, and then stared out my window to the black sky with a few stars twinkling in the darkness.

What time was it? The digital clock on the bedside table said 11:00 p.m. Fuck.

“I fell asleep too,” Polunin said, dragging me out of my inner thoughts. He heaved himself to his feet, and my gaze fell to his swinging cock, something I shouldn’t have been interested in looking at, but I did anyway. “Woke up to you yelling.”

“What did you hear?” I took a step back, as though distance between us would stop me from staring at him and everything he owned. I hadn’t seen him naked in this light without being close to him, and now that it was happening, I hated the excited sensation in my belly and balls at the sight. He had compact muscles that strained with every move he made, and while his chest was smooth, trimmed pubic hair the same color as on his head nestled his cock. Polunin might have been a shortass, but he was a good-looking shortass, which shouldn’t have annoyed me as much as it did.

I wasn’t attracted to men, especially not him.

His gaze narrowed on me, and I felt like he was searching for something, but then he shrugged. “Nothing. You were just yelling.”

I’d watched him in court enough times to see the lie for what it was, and I gritted my teeth in irritation. “Mind your own fucking business. You should have left.”

He grinned. “Probably. You can’t screw me and then expect me to leave without a round two, but I can’t do the next round without food.” He sauntered past me, and if I was a dog in heat, I would have panted after his round, bubbly ass. “I’m not the best cook, but I can throw together something, depending on what you have.”

“This isn’t a hotel, Polunin, you can’t make yourself at home.”

He waved his hand at me and exited the bedroom. I frowned and followed after him, ignoring my own nudity. It wasn’t like someone unexpected would show up. I didn’t know people outside of work, and I made it my mission not to get close to anyone. Making friends only resulted in heartbreak. Humans betrayed one another, it was a simple lesson I’d learned young.

Polunin reminded me of a buzzing fly, though, and I imagined that if I swatted at him, he’d enjoy it and come back looking for more. The thought made my lips twitch, but I forced down the urge to smile. I stalked down the hallway and to the kitchen, where he was rummaging through the fridge. He made a noise of triumph and pulled out a carton of eggs and presented them to me.

“They’re called eggs,” I said sarcastically.

He laughed, and the melodic sound startled me. “Really? I had no idea.”