Chapter 7 - Thomas Jefferson
January 15, 2016
Thomas can't see anything. He wakes up in a room. There's nothing there. It's all dark. "Hello?" He calls out cautiously. A snicker sounds behind him. Thomas freezes in fear. He knows that voice. "J-James?" He whispers. The sadistic snicker sounds again behind him and a light flares on. Thomas whirls around to see James twirling a knife on his finger, grinning at him through the dim, flickering light.
"Hello, Thomas~" James snickers. He draws closer and there is suddenly a wall that shimmers into existence behind Thomas. The boy's chest is heaving, tears stinging his eyes. He backs into the wall and James slams his arms around Thomas, caging him. "You didn't think I was going to let you get away that easily, now did you, Thomas?" Thomas lets out a faint moan as James runs his hands over his side.
"S-stop!" Please, James…!" Thomas screams. Nothing appears to separate him from the silence and the killer before him. The knife is back in James' hands and Thomas is suddenly without a shirt. He puts his hands up, which are stained with blood and cuts, in a vain attempt to block James. It is no use. James' hands pry Thomas' arms from his chest and he stabs the knife into his stomach, eliciting a scream of agony from the boy.
"My god!" Thomas screams. "F-fuck!" James yanks the knife out and Thomas falls to the floor, curled into a ball with his hands over his midriff. James leans in slowly and kisses Thomas. The boy stands up unsteadily, the blood pouring from his stomach in an unending flow. "J-James! Please!" Thomas whimpers. James only grins and grinds on Thomas, making the male give out a low throaty groan, a reaction that Thomas certainly doesn't want to give his captor.
"Thomas? Oh, my god, this is all my fault! I'm sorry I ever teased you. You don't deserve someone like him. When we get out of this, I'll help you get rid of him. No one should be abused like this. I bet you I was part of the reason you cut. I'm so sorry." A sobbing voice echoes into Thomas' dark world. The boy jerks up from the position he has been lying in and sits up. "Please, don't die. I'll never forgive myself if I was a part of your death. I know I seem to be mean at times, and that I don't really like you... But I don't sink as low as wishing someone dead. Wake up… wake up! Please!" The voice yells.
Thomas stands up, his wounds no longer bothering him. A white shadow begins to appear in the distance, getting closer and revealing itself to be a white, transparent ghost with long hair around his shoulders and draping onto his chest, and glowing purple-blue eyes. Further exploration reveals that Alexander has scars all over his chest, legs and arms, and a scar trailing down his face from his right cheek to his chin. Bright tears are falling from his eyes as Thomas smiles. "Wake up… wake up!" Alexander's voice echoes, taking over the darkness of his dreams and sending Thomas falling from a bright crack in his world.
"Motherfucking hell!" Thomas screams as he wakes up. He looks around the room to see Alexander passed out right next to him, his raven hair tangled around his shoulder blades. His hoodie sleeves have been pushed up so that Thomas can see every scar on his arms. The boy doesn't want to admit it, but those scars tell a story. A story he wants to hear.
Alexander groans and wakes up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He sits up and pushes his hair out of his eyes and into a quick low ponytail, a few strands falling in his eyes. His eyes. Their blue-purple color is muted and tinged with red around, surrounded by dark eye bags. "Thomas?" He mumbles. He sits up in shock, his hair whipping Thomas' face. Thomas doesn't think it's ever been this long. Alexander obviously hasn't been taking care of himself.
"Uh… yeah, Alexander. I'm awake. So… why are you in my room? And where are Lafayette and Eliza?" Thomas asks, a cynical edge creeping into his voice. Alexander looks taken aback, and so takes his time to retie his hair into a high ponytail.
"They were here. The left because they had make-up classes. I'm here because I took my classes. And I'm in your room because I'd like to talk to you." Alexander snaps. The scar on the right side of his face seems to be lit up with the lighting. Thomas sneers and turns away, flipping Alexander off.
"Well, whatever it is you have to say to me, I don't want to hear it," Thomas says, reprising what he said before. He hears Alexander's audible sigh and feels his guilt creeping up on his. Damn. I hate you sometimes, conscience. He thinks. He knows inside that Alexander was responsible for bringing him to the hospital. Thomas groans and finally flips over. "What do you want?" He asks.
Alexander's face brightens for one second before a mask of pain and sadness drop over it. He stares at Thomas, and finally asks, "When did this start?" Thomas fidgets for a while before answering.
"A few weeks ago. James got drunk and hit me. I didn't stop him, and he started hitting me even when he was sober. He straddles me when I am in the dorm, and tried to rape me once. Fortunately, I didn't let him. But- he used to be so kind. I don't know what happened." Thomas has tears in his eyes, the blue flecks in them glinting like diamonds. "I- I had to… to leave the dorm when I found out he was cheating on me with Burr. he threw a glass bottle at me. I live with Laf now." Thomas lets a few tears flow down his cheeks.
Alexander clears his throat and begins speaking. "It started for me a few months ago. First, it was small. Slaps on the cheek, pulling my hair. Then it started getting worse. He would come in drunk almost every night and demand that I have sex with him. I always said no, but one night, he refused to take no for an answer and cut me. He hasn't stopped since. He started calling me slut and whore a few weeks ago… and I cut. Ever since the beginning. I've passed out a total of 10 times in the last two months, and I-" Alexander breaks down in tears, his broken eyes glancing at Thomas, their purple-blue dull and dead.
"I tried to kill myself a total of four times these past two weeks, although I mostly cut myself. And John… he- he raped me a few nights ago… and I let him. I just stood there and let him. He won't let me tell anyone else because he's threatened bodily harm to them and me. I don't want anyone getting hurt on my behalf. I'm only telling you because the walls here are soundproof, and I still don't know if that will stop John." Alexander bites his nails. The tears that roll down his face are uncontested.
"Alexander… did you mean what you said in my dream?" Thomas asks. Alexander turns pale and backs off of Thomas' bed, fiddling with the star on his choker, something that Thomas has never seen before.
"I didn't think you actually heard that," Alexander says, a deadpan note in his voice. "But yes, I did mean everything. I will help you get out of this. In return, you help me get out of mine." Thomas narrows his eyes, not trusting the younger male. Alexander reaches for Thomas' wrists and he hisses, snapping his hands back. Pain shoots through them.
An afterthought comes to Thomas. "Did you or Laf give me a transfusion?" He asks. Alexander continues to fiddle with his choker. Thomas sighs and puts his hand on the strap. "Did John give you this?" Alexander nods softly, fingering the small silver star on it. It's beautiful, really. Thomas thinks. If only John didn't give it to him. Alexander can do so much better than him. I realize now that John was abusing him. He went from total jerk to being scared of everyone, hiding his face and arms in sweaters, long sleeves, and hoodies. Someone should have been there to protect him. Thomas shakes his head to clear it and Alexander replies.
"Yes to both questions. I gave you the transfusion. And John gave me this choker a few months into our relationship. It was about the time he started abusing me. He said that it was a sign of our love, but there is no love in our relationship, at least, not for me. I don't know what twisted form of love resides in John's side of the relationship, but I don't like it." Alexander says, his voice trembling near the end. "I keep it so… maybe he'll remember that I love him and want him to love me back, the way I still love him. Don't look at me like that, Thomas. I still love him. I just don't know what happened to him."
Thomas is in shock. Alexander's relationship is much worse than his. Four suicide attempts in two weeks. That's scary. Thomas hasn't even contemplated killing himself. My God… what is wrong with me? My teasing must have contributed to his cutting. "Alexander… was I ever a cause for your self-harm?"
Alexander starts and looks up at Thomas, the hopeless expression in the younger boy's purple-blue eyes breaking Thomas slightly. "Almost every day. It was either you or John. Mostly you, because I couldn't let John see I was mad or sad at him for abusing me. I used to push him away, but I realized that wouldn't do anything. So… I resorted to cutting. And it's become an addiction for me. I can't stop. These little voices in my head… keep telling me I'm useless… a whore, faggot, slut. That no one cares about me… that I should kill myself and rid the world of the burden that is me. That… the only reason I'm alive is to serve as a sex toy for the older males of the world, no other use, no voice, no face. I am a faceless slave, sold to the masses for my body." He says, and his voice is husky and low. His voice suddenly cracks and he stops talking.
"Sorry." He mumbles. "I haven't been talking for two days. It's taken its toll." Alexander rubs the back of his hand over his mouth. No wonder his voice is hoarse. Thomas thinks. "I don't know if you've heard about this yet… but… my parents-"
"Stop," Thomas says gently. Alexander looks at him, confused. "This is obviously a painful topic for you. Don't talk about it if you don't want to." A small smile creeps onto Alexander's face, as the door creaks open and the doctor steps in.
"Sir, it's time for you to go. Visiting hours have ended." Alexander nods stiffly and stands up, inclining his head a fraction of a degree briefly to Thomas, the latter doing the same.
"Okay," Alexander says, and leaves.
