Chapter 6: Help

Carlos took a deep breath, placed his teeth on his lower lip, and lifted his left leg to bring it closer to TK's jacket. The pain that shot through him, from his leg up his body to his head, nearly made him scream in pain. He held on. He bit his lip until it bled. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He rested his leg and took the time to catch his breath, to let the pain subside. It took him many minutes to feel ready to face the pain again. Before trying to move again, the policeman looked up to see how far he had to go before he could even touch the jacket and let it fall back in frustration. It remained to him at least thirty centimeters to fill and it seemed to him not to have succeeded in covering more than two at the time of its preceding attempt. However, he would persevere. He couldn't give up just because he was in pain. He couldn't abandon TK in the hands of this man, just imagining what he could do to him, what he might do to him, gave him the strength to endure the pain. He had to make it. He had to find a way to access his lover's phone and call for help.

TK forced himself to eat, because he was not hungry at all. He ate as slowly as possible without really watching the movie on TV. Part of his mind was thinking about Carlos. He was seeing the marks on his body again, wondering how bad his injuries were. He was frustrated because he had looked at them too quickly to successfully assess them. He hoped they weren't too bad, that none of them were life threatening to his boyfriend, and that they wouldn't prevent him from grabbing his phone from his jacket to alert the paramedics. Of course, he knew it wouldn't be easy for him with his arms tied, but it was their only chance. He had seen Carlos' phone blown up on the bedside table. All he could do was give them as much time as possible. He felt like he was on borrowed time.

All the rest of his attention was on the one who was putting their lives in danger, Dylan, sitting next to him. The blond seemed impatient to see him finish his meal, his hand caressed his thigh, remaining for the moment wisely far from his intimate parts, but TK had no doubt about his future intentions. He thus took as much time as possible to postpone the deadline, the one where he should choose his fate. When he had discovered the man upstairs and realized that he would not hesitate to kill Carlos, he had told himself that he was ready to do anything to save his man. Now that he did not have any more his boyfriend in his field of vision, that they were not any more in the same room, he was not so sure to be ready to let this man who inspired him only of the disgust to touch him. He was already doing violence to not throw the hand out his thigh.

Finally, Dylan's patience ran out and his hand went up between TK's legs, and he flinched as far away as he could without leaving the couch.

"What's going on Liam?" the blond asked as he approached again and grabbed TK by the throat.

The paramedic made a huge effort to stay calm and quickly looked for a lie that would buy him time.

"I feel dirty and tired…" he tried.

However, he regretted his words as soon as they passed his lips. Dylan's eyes glowed with lust as his tongue flicked across her lips.

"But please, go take a shower," he said, rising to his feet.

His hand went from the young man's throat to his arm, pulling him down the stairs and into the bathroom. Dylan leaned against the doorframe and looked at T.K., who was shaking all over.

"Could you...please let me wash myself?"

The blond man glanced at the window of the room, there was no way TK would escape through there and they both knew it.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes."

TK wondered if giving this monster so much time to go back to Carlos in the next room was really a good idea. He hoped he wouldn't go to him, that he would just wait in the hallway, but he didn't really believe it. So he took a quick shower and came out, letting the water run. He had an idea, an idea that really had little chance of success, but he was ready to try anything. Hoping that the noise of the shower would cover that of his actions, he put back his boxer shorts, grabbed the shaving cream and opened the window. Outside the window, he applied himself to write the letters S.O... he didn't have time to finish. A howl of pain ripped through the air and terrorized TK. He quickly closed the window, put the shaving cream back on the sink and rushed out of the bathroom.

Carlos had managed after many painful attempts to get his foot against the jacket. Gasping for breath, in tears from the pain, he had managed to get the phone out of his pocket and slide it onto the bed when he heard footsteps on the stairs. His heart froze. The last thing he wanted was for Dylan to see the cell phone. He took a deep breath and moved the jacket over the device. The pain almost knocked him out. He was at the end of his rope. It wasn't perfect, but he couldn't do any better right now. He could feel it, if he tried to move his leg again he was going to pass out, and that was out of the question for him. He heard T.K. say he wanted to wash himself and Dylan say he had fifteen minutes. Carlos was relieved and stressed at the same time, relieved that the man did not go under the shower with his lover, but stressed that he would return in the bedroom... which did not fail to arrive. The blond detailed it of its cold glance, glance which became furious when it rested on its legs. Of a gesture raging, he raised the jacket and discovered the phone. His gray pupils turned almost white as his hand reached for the baseball bat. Carlos had no time to be afraid, or to try to hold back the cry of pain that passed his lips as the object slammed into the phone, shattering it into small pieces, but also into his left leg. His body arched as he screamed, black dots danced in front of his eyes and he lost consciousness. Only he was quickly brought back to consciousness and pain by a punch in his stomach. Breathless, he tried with difficulty to fix his eyes and mind on his tormentor.

"Did you call the cops?" he growled.

Carlos nodded his head no, but he could see that Dylan didn't believe him and didn't give a damn. The man's eyes clearly expressed that he was going to kill him. This time the Latino had time to see the bat rise up and be afraid, he was going to get hit in the head, he was sure of it. He thought of TK. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him one last time. A tear rolled down his cheek. He closed his eyes, ready to die.