Chapter 45: Sanctuary?
Sorry this has taken a bit of time to post.
Has Daryl truly found sanctuary with Mr., Rogers or merely jumped out of the frying pain into the fire? Did Merle tell Dad it was him and will he work out where Daryl has run off to now he doesn't have Eric?
Any reviews are welcome! Enjoy x
Rogers
I listened to the summer storm outside and jumped when I heard a particularly loud thunder clap right over my house or so it seemed. I imagined what it must be like to be stuck out there with nowhere to go and I shivered, especially when it started to rain gallons by the minute. Yet it was still hot and muggy as it typically was during the Georgian summer with the rain bringing surprisingly little relief and the wind had picked up too. Leaning back in front of the TV on my armchair, I breathed in the appropriate TV dinner I'd made. Boring old mac'n'cheese. Having no-one else to cook for, I rarely bothered and anyway, I was often too tired after spending the whole day dealing with willful teenagers.
It was a relief to be able to decide something so simple as to what to eat when Lord knew I'd sucked at being decisive lately. What do to with Daryl, for instance. He'd told me to back off last time I tried to talk to him and I had no choice but to respect his wishes. Still, I knew I'd got to him when I hit the nail on the head without saying it out loud what I suspected. He'd been on the verge of telling me, confirming my worst fears and had even let me put my arms around him when he lay my head on my chest in defeat. Daryl hadn't cried of course but I could tell through him trembling so hard against me that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
Then I'd gone and said the wrong damn thing and called him 'baby' and he'd lashed out at me and run away. Not that I blamed him. Of course, I hadn't meant it like that (or maybe I did) but of course he didn't see it like that. God, I was so stupid! It had just slipped out. And we were so intimate and he let me comfort him...I'd been in seventh heaven just being that close but then I'd gone and screwed it up, just when I thought I was getting him to trust me again.
Now I knew he never would.
When he stormed out angrily, ordering me to 'forget about him', it had only made me want to grab him and take him home with me all the more. Keep him safe from the monster that was his father. Not satisfied with beating the living crap out of his son anymore, now he tops it all off by abusing him sexually as well?
I lowered the sound on the TV – it was only some crappy gameshow that I wasn't really watching. Worse, my appetite had rapidly diminished and I ate slowly without enjoyment. I was just so worried about him…imagining the worst – what exactly had his father done to him? Or made him do? Why now? Why the change?
I shook my head and swallowed my mouthful of macaroni. It felt like a deadweight made up of lead going down my throat. I was just about ready to unenthusiastically bring up my spoon to my mouth to swallow another bland mouthful when I heard a curious thump out on the porch. The sound reminded me of an utterly exhausted traveller who had finally found a welcoming place of refuge and who could finally put down the heavy burden they had been carrying. In this weather? Who could it be? I frowned as I was pretty sure that it was a person. For a split second, I felt a slither of ice-cold fear at the thought that it was maybe an older Dixon – the brother or the father come to exact their revenge on me for 'touching' their youngest again but I frowned and shook off that fear. If that was going to happen, it would have happened long ago.
Little did I know.
Then there was a loud, urgent knocking but they still didn't speak. I took a mouthful of my favorite beer to moisten my suddenly dry throat and got up to answer. I could barely believe my eyes when I looked through the spyhole and just stood there in shock, wondering if this was all a wonderful dream because although it was dark and howling a gale, I easily recognized that small, hooded, huddled up figure swaying at my door. The poor kid was barely able to stand and was clinging to my porch as if for dear life.
I threw open the front door. 'That you, Dixon?'
'Mhm…'
'What are you doing here? Come here son, get inside, you're soaking wet.'
He let off a bitter little laugh. It struck me then that he was hiding his face under that light hoodie. Something really bad must have happened for him to go out in this weather and risk ending up here with me.
Of course, it must be his Dad. Was he only beaten up and/or worse?
I felt my own body give a little shudder at the thought of what he must have been through. He couldn't or wouldn't meet my eyes and focused them down on my shoes instead. Out of the corner of my eye I saw how badly his body was trembling.
''Gettin' wet' is the least of my problems. Need some help here...'
And that was all he managed to say before he collapsed into my arms.
'Daryl!' I picked him up quite easily and brought him inside, heeling the door shut behind me. I immediately took him to the bathroom which had the best light and gently set him down with his back against the wall as I held him upright.
I couldn't help but gasp at the state he was in, I'd never witnessed him receiving such a beating. A stab of guilt ran through me, what if it was because of me? Because he came home late because I held him back a few times? I doubted that was the case though. Even a bastard as rotten to the core as the elder Dixon surely needed more reason than that? But I wasn't sure.
'Come on son, you're scaring me.'
I sighed in relief as his eyes fluttered open. 'I've got you… you'll be OK, you're safe now.'
'Sorry, shouldn't've come here…Just so used to running off to Eric's and I'm real sorry for what I said to ya before, I know ya didn't mean it like that. Jus' overreacted, I guess. But today, I mean tonight… I thought...thought he was gonna kill me for real this time.'
He muttered the last sentence to himself so low that I almost didn't catch it. When I did, a chill ran through me.
'Don't worry about that. I didn't take it personally.'
I wanted to ask about him and Eric – everyone knew that they were as thick as thieves and I was surprised at the thrill of jealousy that pierced me then. Because that smart boy was a homosexual if ever there was one – Daryl – I could never have said. This boy was kind of ambiguous. But if Eric had made a move and if Daryl had returned it … I found myself glad that my potential rival was away in Europe and with any luck, would stay there.
'Daryl, son, I'm really concerned for your life...if your father's gettin' worse...'
He just shook his head in exhaustion. 'Jus' can't take it anymore…I mean take him…' His eyes grew wide in fear and his body convulsed in a new series of shudders.
'Can you take your hoodie off by yourself?'
He nodded but grimaced in pain. I considered offering to help him but thought better of it. The face he revealed was a blood-spattered picture - no wonder he wanted to hide it. I doubted he could see out of one bruised black and blue eye. I dreaded what the rest of him was like but even that was rousing thoughts I didn't want to have about him. I squashed them down, down and maintained my professional teacher's mask not to alarm him.
'Merle's not home, I take it?' I said to distract him, hopefully make him forget what I'd called him before.
'When is he? No. There was some trouble in the bar and he said he won't be back for a month at least. A month! Leaving …Leaving me with him…' He trembled adoringly in fear as his voice wavered and all I wanted to do was hug him.
But I didn't dare. He'd bolt like a deer if I did.
His voice suddenly got hard. 'And I don't got no other place to go. So, I came here...but don't get any funny ideas, ya hear? ' He snarled at me his blue eyes mercilessly hard even as he quivered like a leaf. I knew he'd rather take a chance with me rather than with his demon of an old man any day. But I could tell he still didn't fully trust me, not after another stupid slip of the tongue and even if he did apologise, he wasn't fooled. He was just grateful that I took him in out of the rain.
'Shh, It's OK, I'm not going to do anything, I promise. Wouldn't anyway, not with you in that state. I don't want anything from you.' I lied.
He narrowed his eyes at me unconvinced but seemed to breathe a little easier and softened his voice a little.
'I mean I'm grateful and everythin' but I…'
'I'm glad you're here. Eating a rubbish frozen meal for one in front of the TV every night gets pretty boring, you know? And at least I know you're safe.'
'Safe…'. He whispered wistfully to himself like he couldn't believe he really was. Or maybe he couldn't remember what 'safe' felt like.
'How about you take off the rest of those wet clothes.' I threw him a towel.
I sensed that he immediately tensed up at my words but I pretended not to notice as I emptied my medicine-cabinet right there in the sink looking for something to ease his pain and help him heal.
'You can borrow some of my clean ones, even though I bet they'll be big on you. Let me have a look at you first.' I spoke matter-of-factly or so I thought.
'What the fuck do ya mean with that?' I was right, that suspicion I was so familiar with seeing in those eyes was back, which automatically had me shaking my head. 'Just want to see how badly he hurt you, nothing else.'
'No, turn ya back!' He ordered me and I was so surprised that I did as I was commanded. The bastard must have forced him to strip – of course he had
How could he not – the boy was simply too beautiful. It seemed that almost our roles had been reversed – he was the one in charge now, not me as the adult. But if it made him feel safer and put him on the road to finally letting down his guard with me maybe leading eventually to other things, I didn't mind. He slowly shrugged out of his wet things with some difficulty behind me, but I knew he wouldn't appreciate me helping him just then. Then, I heard him drop his bloodied and soaked clothes to the floor.
'Can I turn around now?' I hadn't even tried to sneak a peek although seeing that perfect young body in all its glory wrapped up in a towel – well, except for the cuts and bruises – I didn't find them particularly sexy - had been all I'd thought about in my fantasies and dreams. Since Daryl started coming to my class.
'Yeah.' He roughly gave me permission and looked away.
I had to suppress a gasp but he knew and smirked at me. For a moment I was left staring and had to remind myself to keep my mouth shut not to mention keep my gawking to a minimum. Even though the boy was breathing heavily it was almost as if he held his breath at the same time. This and being so close to him set off forbidden thoughts yet again in my head and I mentally kicked myself for them each time. This wasn't the right time or place. What had really made me snap out of it in the end was catching sight of those bruises and where they were. It was so obvious.
Huge hands had clawed at his slender hips leaving their possessive mark. Did he know what he was showing me? Or didn't he care?
When I came back with fresh pajamas, he was standing shirtless with a firm grip of the sink with his back to me. Revealing even more bruising, right along with what looked to be a fresh burn from a cigarette at the back of his neck and a recent, long slash from a knife. I had to cover my mouth to muffle my cry of shock and horror. The sight of that beautiful boy all bruised and mutilated and the older scars on his back – looked like from a whip or a belt - almost had me crying. He hadn't warned me. But I couldn't do that in front of him, I would have to wait until I was alone later. Right now, I needed to provide safety and earn his confidence.
I took a few steps closer to him, he looked down at the floor as he chewed his bottom-lip nervously. Even that turned me on – did he know the effect he was having on me?
He backed away as I approached him slowly.
'Hey, I ain't gonna do nothin'.'
It looked like he was getting ready to return a smart alec reply but suddenly grabbed his battered head instead and groaned. 'Fuck, it hurts!'
His reached out to cling onto me but I could tell he did this out of necessity more than out of a need to be comforted.
'I know, I know. I'll get you something stronger for the pain in a minute. Should've done that while I was hunting for clothes for you to wear. Just wanted to get back to you as fast as I could. What happened?'
'He... he just lost it, that's what! Fuckin' bastard!'
'I can see that. What was his excuse this time?'
'He don't need one, the sick fuck.'
'What he do?'
'Don't wanna talk about it.' He replied stubbornly. 'But I need a shower first!'
Did he realise that he just given me my answer with that last request?
'I know you don't want to talk about it. But you'll feel better if you do...But no pressure.' I added. 'And of course, you can have a shower or even a bath if you want and then I'll treat your wounds afterwards…'. I was stopped by his intimidating glare.
I gulped back a nervous swallow. 'Or you can fix yourself if you can. Anyway, there's no point doing it before you wash, is there?'
I knew we were going round and round in circles and repeating the same conversation last time I spoke to him, almost word for word. But what else could I do to make him open up? Or should I just be direct with him about my suspicions?
'Just wait a second and I'll go find those extra strong painkillers.' I left him briefly and came back with the packet and a glass of water. He took it gently from me and swallowed 2 of the pills.
'Thanks. I don't mean to be…It's just that…' He said.
I didn't let him finish I knew what he was getting at. 'Don't worry about it. I understand.'
I left him to it.
Daryl
He let me have a bath! With no limit on time or how much hot water I used, not like the bastard at home. I even remembered that spending too long in the shower had been my crime for getting 20 lashes with the belt when I was about 10.
I wallowed in the foam, couldn't resist adding more water and bath salts. Maybe, finally, I could get clean.
Of him. I shuddered and pushed myself under the hot water.
Yet the whole time there was anxiety coiling at the pit of my stomach like a metal snake because I was expecting him to come in anytime even though I'd locked the bathroom door. Banging on it in his impatience and demanding to be let in - saying that he needed the toilet urgently or maybe offering to 'scrub my back' but he never did.
The bath foam reached up to my neck, the warm water was soothing the most recent bruises. Sighing in contentment, I emptied half the sachet packet into the colourful water – already a mix of red, blue and orange swirling into one. But I froze when I got a whiff of the fragrance – as the garish bright yellow crystals spread to join the other salts; it was fucking pineapple!
And I didn't ever want to smell pineapple or mint ever again because at that moment, they took me back in time.
A pathetic whimper escaped my lips and I stood up in a hurry, spilling bathwater over the edge. My muscles involuntarily tensed up as I was sure there would be a punishment waiting for me after making a mess on the floor like that. To my horror, he heard me make even this small sound, which had me thinking that maybe my fears hadn't been so off the mark after all because he'd been hovering close-by.
What if he'd been listening outside the door the whole time? Waiting for the perfect excuse to enter? I dismissed this paranoid thought as soon as it struck me.
'Daryl, you OK, son?' He banged on the door.
'Yeah...yeah.' I struggled to control my breathing and put more casualness into my voice than I actually felt. 'I think I'm done now.'
'OK. I've started dinner - sausages and mash, OK?'
'Yeah, thanks.'
'Better fix yourself up before we eat. You can take anything out of the medicine cabinet – I think I got all the bandages and antiseptic, witch hazel and ointment you need but let me know if you need any help or can't find something.'
'OK!' but I was thinking, yeah, right! I wondered if saw the bruises on my hips. I hadn't meant to show him them – that stupid little towel - I had forgotten about them – or had I? If he noticed them … he would know what Dad did to me.
And how the hell was I going to take care of the slash between my shoulder blades by myself? I'd shown him that – all my old scars on my back and the most recent cigarette burn mark. I hadn't even warned him! And they were still stinging like hell but I ignored it. It seemed like the painkillers were taking a little time to work. I could still feel my skull and eye faintly throbbing although it was a hell of a lot better than before. I even thought about asking him if he and marijuana stashed away somewhere but I knew he wouldn't.
Looks like I'm going to have to ask him from some help. I shuddered.
I let myself soak a little then got up slowly not to spill any more water, let the plug out and dried myself off with the towel. Truth was I was in no hurry to have him see me in this vulnerable state, even though he hadn't tried anything I couldn't quite relax around him either. Reluctantly, still keeping my towel on, I opened the bathroom door and called for him.
Damn! He sounded so happy when I said I couldn't do it all by myself.
I heard him coming up the stairs calling out to me.
Rogers
I took a deep breath before I could continue and went for the plunge.
'I hate to see you like this. Tell me at least, why is your face and head bruised and battered bloody again? He likes getting you there, doesn't he? And did he cut you on your back and put his cigarette out on you this time too?'
He shrugged and refused to look at me but I saw him wipe his eye with the corner of the towel.
'Son, what's changed? What else is he doing to you?'
He rounded on me. 'Not this again. When are ya goin' to let it lie?
'Daryl, I asked you before did your father hurt you worse as well as hit you?'
He lowered and nodded his head, confirming his suspicions. Especially when I saw him start to tremble. Seeing my opening, I dived in.
'Besides, those bruises on your hips are his, aren't they? From where he held you down while he…Did you want me to see them? Easier that way than tell me in words, isn't it?'
'No! He…He…'
'It's OK, I know.' I told him quietly. Letting him know that I knew, fully understood what he's father was capable of.
'He …. he... said...I had a ...hot little ass...'
I winced at his words, but nothing compared to his own reaction as he shuddered immediately after he said them.
'What did he do? How could he hurt you like that?'
'Nothin'.'
A step backwards. Now he was denying it but I knew better.
'Not just hurt on the outside, are you son?
'What the fuck ya mean by that? That your way of askin' whether he fucked me or if he just made me suck his dick?' His tone was angry, aggressive but nevertheless he started to shake harder and those steely blue eyes started to look a little damp.
'Did he?'
'Asshole made me do both.' He said matter-of-factly but I saw him slump in shame. I also realised how much of a huge challenge I had in front of me if I ever wanted him to do the same for me. Maybe he was simply too traumatized to ever be able to do anything with me or with anyone else for that matter but I had to try. I could heal him that way. God, if he heard my thoughts! He'd run like the wind out of that door. Even at a time like this, I'm only thinking of myself and what I want to be able to eventually do with him. Maybe he was right – me and his old man weren't that different after all.
'Oh, Daryl…You poor…'
He cut me then burned me because I refused…' His voice hitched and he looked at me with his haunted and angst-filled eyes as if for permission to go on.
I nodded, keeping my voice more neutral than I felt. 'Refused to do what, son?'
His chest was pumping and he was gasping like he couldn't get quite enough air. 'He did it because I refused to pretend I liked it!'
'Oh, my God…'
'Every time is worse than the last. Jus' when I think he can't do anything more to me, he goes and does somethin' else. He burnt me this time when I shut down. Couldn't give him enough fake moans while he...he…' His next words trailed off and he couldn't repress a shudder. He wiped his eyes again.
'He beat the shit out of me because I kept begging him to stop!' He suddenly blurted out.
'Jesus! Bastard.' I muttered and was surprised at the hate in my voice as I prepared some towels and cotton. No hate in the world would compare to what I felt for the depraved son-of-bitch I had never seen. Dixons didn't do student-parent meetings. I couldn't imagine what he must feel. It was his own father doing this to him.
I looked him over, and it was obvious he was trying to keep his composure, assure me that he was OK when I knew he couldn't be after what he just told me. Not even someone as strong as him. It was clear that he was at breaking point and that's why he was here.
'He even threatened to kill Merle if I tried to run away or didn't do what he wanted. I shouldn't have come here…What if he…I jus' couldn't take anymore.'
He looked up at me pleadingly as if asking me to tell him that he did the right thing.
'Merle'll be OK. He probably didn't mean it – just wanted to scare you.' I soothed.
'You don't know him.' He whispered the last word and his terror made his beautiful blue eyes grow big and the glistening wetness in them nearly spill over into tears.
'Does your brother know?'
He shook his head. 'He knows somethin's up between me and Dad – tried to get it out of me a few times but I jus'…jus' couldn't tell him.'
'Maybe you can go over there when a month's nearly up and see if your brother's back or not. Warn him. Tell him what he's doing to you without going in and letting him see you.' Hopefully he'll kill the bastard in the most painful and slowest way possible, I thought to myself. I also praised myself for how unselfish I was being when I didn't ever want to let him go.
'Now sit back, relax and let me take care of you.'
I only needed to kneel down next to him to make his gaze change focus from the floor to following my hands. Before he pushed my chest away that was.
'Don't. Changed my mind – can fix myself after all.'
I didn't move. Probably talking about his evil father and all the sick things he had done to him had caused all his previous fear and distrust to come back. I shuddered to imagine what kind of memories even my touch would reawake. Especially as I had got it so wrong the first time I wanted to get closer to him.
'I only want to help you, Daryl. You asked me to, remember?'
'Well I don't need you to now, just don't.' Now he was looking completely vulnerable, his tough aura had suddenly vanished into thin air.
I tried to put my hand on his shoulder, but he drew back. 'Is it 'cos it hurts, son?'
'No! Jus' don't want ya touchin' me!'
'I'm not going to hurt you, Daryl. Jus' let me...' I tried my luck again and he was up and on his way out of the bathroom like a shot before I could finish my sentence. I knew there would be hell to pay and I would feel lots of guilt for it later, but concern made me grab him.
'Get your hands off of me!' He roared and tried everything in his weakened state to get away.
I tried to shush him even as I had him up against the wall. I wasn't rough-handed with him by any means and reassured him time and time again, but nothing I said or did worked.
'Calm down, Dixon. Everything'll be OK. Just want to disinfect those wounds you can't reach and bandage them, alright? You can rub in the witch hazel yourself afterwards if you like.'
'Don't do it, please, don't do it. I can't take it no more...' It was like he hadn't even heard me.
I loosened my grip on him a little. 'I would never, deep down you know that. That's why you came here, wasn't it? You knew I'd help you. Come on, I won't touch you any more than necessary, I promise. Just calm down.'
His eyes flicked between me and the door and I knew he was wondering if he could make it. Run away from me in only his towel in that wind and rain.
I released him as he gave a small nod. 'I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave like that. Not that it's cold out but there's still that damn summer storm raging. I don't want it on my conscience if something bad should happen to you out there.'
I meant at home, of course but didn't say that.
'OK.' He nodded in defeat and slumped to the white tiled floor.
I let him go.
'I mean it, son. I'm not going to hurt you.'
'Yeah, right.' He mouthed silently but he still didn't look up at me.
'Come on. You can't stay in the bathroom all night. Let's get your injuries seen to and then you can have dinner.'
He shook his head. 'I ain't hungry anymore.'
'Well, if you don't want any food, I can save it for tomorrow if you're still here and I hope you will be. Do you want to go to bed then?'
Dumbass! I mentally slapped my head when his head snapped up then in fear as his lips trembled. Were his eyes shining with unshed tears again? Why was I always saying the wrong thing to him?
'No...no, please...I can't take it anymore.' He became terrified and shaking once more.
'Silly boy. I meant your own bed – I do have a guest room, you know.'
'Uh...OK.' He looked relieved.
'I mean it, son. Nothin's gonna happen. I'm past that now.' I lied. I had badly wanted to add 'Unless you start something.'
Did he know my thoughts? Because he smirked in reply.
Rogers
Decorously yet disappointing for me, he kept that big towel on that covered his lower body to his ankles. I had to remind myself to stop staring at his taut, flat stomach and sculpted muscles - like a little Adonis.
'Sh... it's OK. Not going to do anything to you. See?' I dipped the cloth into the bowl of warm water with a light antiseptic to wash his cuts but when I went to soothe his bruises with it, he flinched away.
I immediately stopped. 'Come now, son. We've got to do this. You might get an infection otherwise...' I coaxed.
'No! Give it to me! Can do it myself!' He snarled. He was stubborn and backed away as far as he could from me, back against that tiled wall and watched me nervously.
I stayed where I was, smiling gently to mask my frustration and disappointment. 'OK, you do it, then.' I handed him the damp cloth.
But soon after he was looking at me with suspicion. Because he couldn't reach round to the nasty new cut slap bang and he winced with pain every time he tried.
'May I?' I asked, doing my damnest to keep out the sarcasm in my voice.
'Go ahead' He ordered me, again with that harsh tone of authority like I was the kid and he was the adult.
He was undeniably resisting at first – he'd flinch away and I would have to wait until he reluctantly nodded and begin again. He stoically gritted his teeth against the sting (or probably it was my touch). In any case, it took twice the time it needed for me to treat that single deep cut and put some salve on his burn. I knew he'd be scarred for life there but at least he could cover the latter as long he kept his hair relatively long.
I gritted my own teeth in rage, thinking That fucking evil bastard.
I don't think he noticed he was too focused on enduring my hands. I was quickly losing hope at being able to help him to heal psychologically – he was never going to let me introduce him to good sex. But I wouldn't give up – he was too special a boy and he was so strong.
'Sorry, I'm so sorry, nearly over now.' I carried on hushing him and speaking to him gently while I did it. Nevertheless, without asking his permission, I started to work on the other cuts and bruises over his ribs, for instance. He'd missed some out, there were so many.
It – he shouldn't be like this. Given time I thought that he would feel a bit better about me and relax a little, but he never did. For my part, I have to admit that I enjoyed wiping him and soothing his bruises with the ointment as gently as I could, wishing that I could wipe him in other places like between his legs, his crack – (not with the antiseptic though of course but maybe with an ice-cube from the freezer, pushing it in and out of him slowly) until he was moaning and squirming and ready for me but I held back. Even as the images tumbled around my head. I kept rubbing in ointment as long as he grudgingly allowed me, even dared to stroke his back and sides in the places that by some miracle had no obvious injuries until he jerked away suddenly.
'That's enough! Now get off me.' I immediately rolled off the bed and stood up.
'Whatever you say. Need help putting on that shirt?'
'No!' He snapped. Needless to say, after about 5 minutes of trying, he did and I took my hands off him as soon as it was done. Not daring to linger – knowing he'd be onto any unnecessary touching coming from me like a shot.
'Thanks.' He thanked me gruffly, without looking at me. I guessed that maybe he was embarrassed – both by having to let me see his body and his emotional, terrified reactions that revealed just how deeply traumatized and desperate he was. I was surprised that he hadn't broken down in tears when he told me about his Dad but I guessed that crying was probably another excuse for his sick father to hurt him.
I left the bathroom and allowed him to get dressed in peace. He came out when he was ready and I led him to the guest bedroom. That door didn't have a lock on the inside and I sensed that would just freak him out. Maybe I would put one on there if he stayed long enough. Anything to make him feel more comfortable and at ease. I just hoped that he would be able to sleep despite of it.
I showed him how the television worked and he seemed over-awed that I even had one in my guest bedroom. We chatted a bit and I offered to make him a hot drink but he didn't want it.
He signed. 'No, I'm OK…Thank-you.' He answered me politely as if I was a distant elderly relative he was forced to visit. I was surprised – I didn't know Dixons could show good manners.
'Well, then sleep well, son. I hope you feel better in the morning.'
'You too.'
With that, I shut his door.
Daryl
Afterwards, he showed me the guestroom, and politely stayed outside, even though it was his house. Bed was already made like it was waiting for someone like me.
'You unpack and make yourself at home. I've got some work to correct downstairs. It's 11 – you must be tired.
'Turn on the TV if ya want just don't give the neighbours a reason to say that you kept them awake. Although the closest one is pretty far away, but still.'
I recognized that tone. He could be funny when he wanted to be, and he often told jokes to drum up some energy in the classroom. Especially when we didn't want to be there even more than usual like just after our summer-break when he would compare us to a bunch of zombies. Back then we didn't know they were real. Or at least they weren't back then.
'Or you can just do what you feel.' He added cryptically with a little wink.
I couldn't help the little laugh that came out of my mouth as I looked at him. 'Like what?'
'Oh, I don't know, do something that only Daryl Dixon could do?'
'Wouldn't know what that would be.' I looked up innocently at him.
'Oh, come on now, I'm sure a boy like you got many secret talents.'
I cursed inside, it really didn't take much for me to take things the wrong way and I was pretty sure my teacher would throw me out when he got fed up with my little freak-outs at just about anything he said or did.
'Won't do nothin'. Nobody'll know I'm here. Won't go outside, keep my head down.'
'That's not what I meant, Daryl. You're free to leave anytime or go outside when you want. You're not a prisoner here.'
Feeling a bit better I slumped back on the bed and fought the urge to lie down. There were still some limitations to what I was comfortable with doing around him. I hoped with some time that I would stop comparing him to my father in my head or lose the plot every time he said or did something that made me a uncomfortable. It wasn't fair.
He left me then and closed the door. I looked at it and the fact that there was no lock made me feel a little uneasy because what if, like Dad did sometimes, he decided to visit me at night? I went between trusting him and fearing that everything he had just done and promised was a lie to get me to let down my defenses and pounce.
I shook away that fear. He'd told me time and time again that he wasn't going to hurt me. He wasn't going to force me to do anything. But part of me wondered what he was expecting in return for taking me in because Dad had taught me that if nothing else - people always expected payback – in one way or the another.
Anyway, I decided to move the heavy oak desk across the door. It proved to be useless and deep down at the time, I knew that it wouldn't stop him if he was really determined to get in.
What else could I do? I sighed. Because even if he didn't force me in the end, I wouldn't put it past him to make me at least suck his dick.
No! I told myself. He said he wasn't going to make me do anything and he really didn't want anything from me.
Do you really believe that? Didn't you see the way he looked at you in the bathroom, how his touch lingered too long on your skin when he was 'cleaning you up'? My mind did its best to force me to face reality and what I knew.
I knew he was lying about not expecting anything from me. I had felt him get hard against me, remember? I knew that he wanted much more from me like when he'd shoved his tongue down my throat - the way he'd touched me had been so needy and almost greedy but thankfully with an element of restraint. He had stopped when I panicked, after all. I just couldn't forget that day, no matter how much I tried to.
I slipped inside the bedcovers as a wave of sleepiness came over me and I really was exhausted – either from my ordeal or the painkillers he'd given me. It didn't take me long to doze off. I didn't even register the knocks at the door, which was weird given how alert I usually was to any sound of Dad approaching my bedroom. But not tonight. I was safer than home with him, surely?
I woke up with a bang – somebody had pushed the door open so hard that the they'd sent the desk flying across the room with one mere furious shove of incredible strength.
'C…Carl?' I stammered, heart hammering while I tried to identify the man shape hulking in the doorway.
