AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’s been open about who he is from the moment I met him, not advertising his trans identity, but embracing it.
That still doesn’t mean he wants me to read him like an open book, which I could if given the opportunity.
Shiloh is one of those people that draws my attention in a way that leaves my hands itching for the sting of pink flesh beneath my palm.
Don’t ask me where the urge came from or when it started, because it’s existed inside me for so long I couldn’t tell you.
But something about Shiloh Novak makes me want to take him apart, unravel him with my hands and painstakingly stitch him back together with every thread in my arsenal.
It’s sick and a little twisted to want to hurt someone you so desperately want to protect, who you’ve failed and watched break time and time again.
It’s a moot point since Shiloh would never give himself over to me, to what I want to offer him.
Instead I’ll be his watchdog, his keeper. Save him from himself before he winds up a permanent resident of TU’s ICU.
I’ve been passive—accepting my role in his pain up until now.
Either we make the patchwork quilt over our trauma, or we get buried beneath it.
Tonight we start the first stitch; I just need Shiloh to take up the thread.
As a side project, I’ve been running a self defense class since I started at TU. It’s been a good way to cover non-school related expenses, and it’s giving other students the opportunity to learn a skill they may not have otherwise known they needed.
It’s the later-in-life queer people whose friends and family suddenly switch up on them now that they’re open about who they truly are. It’s the kids who were raised in loving homes who come to find not everyone outside is as accepting.
Unfortunate reality as it is, I’m happy to give space to those who want or need to protect their physical wellbeing along with their mental health.
There was a time before Shiloh’s fear had set in after the incident that he took my class. He became so proficient and dedicated that after a few months he was practically running it himself.
So I asked him to teach with me.
I think he agreed out of spite more than anything else, but it gave me a few opportunities a week to take a look and see how he was truly doing. Something he couldn’t hide behind a text or a quick shout in the halls.
Running it solo these last few months, I never realized how much of the lessons Shiloh really took on. Not having a partner you trust to show off new techniques is tricky, too.
Rascal tried to help once, but bless him, coordination is not one of his strong suits.
Imagine my surprise when I go to unlock the garage unit we rent for class and the lock is already unlatched, the rolling door lifted a foot off the ground, with rings of smoke wafting out of it.
“What the…?” The metal squeals as I shove it the rest of the way open, filling the dark room with sunlight.
The smell of weed overwhelmingly permeates the air, and a boulder drops in my gut as I’m met with a familiar pair of dark brown eyes emerging from the fading darkness.
“Shiloh?” I don’t mean to sound as exasperated as I must, but he hasn’t even been back a total twenty-four hours; he hasn’t even brought his stuff to our room yet, and already he’s created a headache I’m either going to have to report or ignore, and hope his first drug test isn’t going to be right off the bat.
There’s no recognition in his gaze as he lays on the cold concrete beside who have come to be known as the Double V twins: Valco and Vulture. He’s gotten into trouble with both of them enough times that I’ve unfortunately become acquainted.
Vulture—the pink-haired girl twin—has the joint between her fingers, resting on her lip as her eyes ping from Shiloh to the open doorway.
Valco—the boy twin who looks like he came out of the 2000‘s emo music scene—is crouched over Shiloh dragging what looks like a sewing needle across his forearm.
I’m rooted in my spot trying to grasp the absurdity of the situation until a thin line of blood starts dripping down his arm in the needle’s wake.
“What in the hell are you doing?”
Valco sits back on his haunches, and Vulture takes a slow drag, blowing out the smoke with a subdued smile.
Shiloh on the other hand just stares, blinking, and then finally a little bit of life pops into his eyes.
