Chapter 10: Matthew's POV

I had dreaded those words, but I knew they were inevitable. That question, the one that tipped the scale dangerously toward permanent scars, deep shadows, and that hated red that threatened to drown me oh so often.

"Matthew… what happened?"

I sighed softly and clutched the stuffed animal in my arms all the tighter, trying to stall. I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want Gilbert to know. He'd hate me, I knew it. I was weak, cowardly, disgusting…I could go on for days. He'd pass me on to another therapist with disgust, and I'd spend the rest of my life like that.

My breathing shallowed out a bit and Gilbert's hand returned gently to my shoulder, his skin warm even through my shirt. His touch loosened something in my lungs, making it a bit easier to breathe.

"Hey, now. Breathe, Birdie. You're safe with me. I promise."

His words brought tears to my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Safe… When was the last time I had been able to say that I was truly safe? I had heard that I was safe lot in that too-white hospital room, but I had known it was never true. Alfred had told me that I was safe when he clutched almost desperately at my hand in the ambulance after saving me, but I hadn't believed it then, either. In the beginning, I had thought that my demon would keep me safe, but he sure as hell hadn't. The last time I could remember that warm, happy feeling of being completely and truly safe and secure was when I was first brought into my adopted family's home.

I had been eight.

I nodded and he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before letting it go. I could still feel the phantom warmth of his hand, even after it had left.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

His voice was gentle, oh so gentle, and I couldn't bear to say no. I nodded again, my breath rattling in my lungs as my nerves jittered almost painfully. He smiled lightly and his eyes lit up, making it all suddenly feel like it would be worth it in the end.

"I-I… He… I saw him. My demon." The words were barely a whisper, and they seemed to burn as I spoke them.

Gilbert just looked confused. "What? Matthew, who?"

I took a shuddering breath, stalling for time. I didn't want to tell him. God, I didn't want to. If I started telling him, I'd start reliving it, and I knew that my retelling would not be without pain. But I knew it was necessary, and for some reason, I knew that he wouldn't abandon me. I was terrified of the possibility, but if he hadn't given up on me by then, he wouldn't give up on me when I finally got up the courage to force the words out of my mouth.

"He… His name is Carlos M-Machado," even saying his name made a sick feeling coil in the pit of my stomach. Gilbert's hands encased mine, and I realized in shock that I had unconsciously begun to dig my nails into my wrists.

"Take it easy, Birdie. Who is this man to you?" His voice was soft as the brush of a feather, the pads of his thumbs leaving burning trails across my skin as he stroked them over my knuckles.

"H-he was my b-boyfriend," the words felt like poison on my tongue. "But he's not a-anymore. He's a demon."

The last sentence came out as barely a whisper, and my grip tightened on Gilbert's hands. He squeezed my hands reassuringly, his thumbs never pausing in their tracing of the ridges of my too-prominent knuckles. I had gained a little weight in the weeks I had spent there, but I was still far from healthy. Being practically starved to death for two and a half years was hard to recover from.

The question was there, I could see it in Gilbert's eyes. He was curious, but he didn't want to push me. What did he do to you?

My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, but I forced myself to continue. He deserved that, at least. "W-when I was eighteen, he… he was the first one to notice me. Usually, people don't see me, even if I run straight into them. I tend to get trampled in crowds, to be honest. But… h-he saw me. I… I guess that's what drew me to him in the first place." I lowered my voice to the point that it was almost a whisper. It was hard to recount the days when Carlos had been a good guy, when I had been too innocent—too naïve—to think that our relationship would ever be anything but perfect. "We st-started dating, eventually. At first, he was really sweet, but then… It started out slow. A couple slaps every now and then. A glare or a harsh word. H-he told me a l-lot that he didn't like it when I talked. A-anyway, I could deal with it, and it wasn't that bad, so I didn't think it would be a p-problem." My voice cracked and I closed my eyes, leaning forward until my forehead met Gilbert's chest. I could hear his heart beating, the strong, steady noise giving me a bit more courage. I could feel tears burning the back of my eyes, but I resisted them. I felt like I cried too much to be healthy. Then again, when was anything ever healthy for me then?

"A few months after he st-started… abusing me, one of my friends came over, since he hadn't seen me since I started dating C-Carlos. He got jealous easily, and I didn't want to make him angry. But, I figured that I could make Riley leave b-before he got home." My breath hitched and my body trembled, the force of my silent tears being ripped out of me wracking my frame.

"C-Carlos got home early, th-that day. He… He got so mad, when he saw Riley. He k-kicked him out an-and then…"

Gilbert rested his chin lightly atop my head, scooting hesitantly closer. If it had been anyone else, I knew I would have pushed them away, and the physical contact probably would've sent me into one schizophrenic attack after another until I passed out from sheer terror. But instead, his touch calmed me, anchored me to the present and warded me from memories of the past.

"He dragged me to the b-basement… I had never been al-llowed there, and I know why n-now. It was pitch black, with a little tiny light hanging from the ceiling. He didn't turn it on o-often. Th-there were… there were chains, sunk i-into the walls, and he locked them around my w-wrists and my ankles… I couldn't move. I… it hurt. God, it hurt so much."

I whimpered slightly, the silver gleam of a scalpel—his favorite "toy"—flashing behind my closed eyelids. He gently puled one of his hands from mine, using it to instead tilt my chin up. I opened my eyes, his gaze instantly catching mine. His eyes, though they were the same shade of the red I had grown to both hate and fear, they held so much kindness and reassurance that I couldn't help but let my tears fall. With my grief, I released my fear and my pain and my despair, crying to wipe the slate that was my mind clean.

After a few minutes of sobbing into Gilbert's shoulder—during which I somehow moved close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body—I calmed down, my emotions surprisingly tranquil.

"I spent two and a half years in that basement… he liked to hurt me. H-he'd cut me, or whip me, or… or rape me, but every time I screamed, he'd laugh. I…" My voice broke again, returning to barely above a whisper. "It was always so dark, but when he turned that light on… it was all metal or blood or his smile… when he smiled, I always knew that it would be worse that time."

I had to pause for a minute or two, wading my way through the memories of that hell and focusing on Gilbert's touch. His arms were around me, giving me a strong, sturdy bubble of warmth to thoroughly cocoon myself in.

"I… I l-lost track of time, eventually. The only reason I-I didn't lose my sanity was because Alfred came l-looking for me. He called the police, and th-they took him away. I spent a couple months in a regular hospital, then Alfred admitted me here…"

I trailed off, not sure how to end a story like that. He knew the rest, but saying that out loud seemed too cheesy, almost cliché. Luckily, Gilbert seemed to sense that I was done, because he hummed softly, as if thinking.

"Carlos… that name sounds familiar. Big, bulky Cuban guy with dreadlocks?"

Shocked, I nodded. I had no idea how, but he knew Carlos. He knew my demon.

"Huh. He was Roddy's last patient. I agree with you; he's scary as hell. He can't hurt you anymore, though, okay? He was released this morning, for good. He's on his way to death row now."

I nodded, not sure what to think about the fact that he'd been punished with death. He deserved it after what he had done to me, to be honest, but it seemed a little inhumane.

Still, snuggled up against Gil, with his arms wrapped tightly around me and that burden lifted from my conscious, it seemed like everything would finally start looking up.