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“S-sir? ‘M sor-” Carter chokes down the apology when he sees that it’s not sir at the door.
It’s his friend. Benny.
The instinct to toss the covers over his head and hide is overwhelming. The only reason he doesn’t give in is how painful it would be to do such a thing with his body right now. Even turning his head to look at Benny fully is enough to have fresh tears springing to his eyes. His body jerks with every panicked intake of breath, pulling whimpers from him.
Carter wants to ask where sir is.
He wants to ask if Benny is going to hurt him.
If Benny is going to fuck him.
If Casey is dead.
If maybe they’d be willing to take pity on him and kill him too.
But everything hurts, and his brain is fuzzy, so he stays silent. His body continues to jerk.
He jolts when a hand touches his shoulder, a new wave of panic welling up in his chest when he realizes Benny made his way across the room without Carter even noticing.
“Shhh,” Benny coos. His eyes are gentle. Warm. Kind. He looks at Carter like he cares about him.God, Carter’s mind is even more fucked up than he thought.“Just breathe, little one. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just here to make sure you’re alright.”
Carter doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t say that. He thinks it’s safest if he continues to say nothing at all.
“Sir is still at the party.” Benny smiles softly. "He had me take you home so you could be cleaned up and put to bed."
More questions bubble along Carter's tongue, but he manages to hold them back.
"I was hoping you'd sleep longer, but that's alright. This gives me a chance to get a proper look at your wounds now."
Carter flinches at the words. They sound sincere, caring even, but he knows better. This man is a monster. They're all monsters. Even sir.
Especiallysir.
The blanket is gently pulled off Carter, revealing a body littered with welts and bruises. He quickly looks away from himself before too many details can register.
"Roll onto your front." When Carter hesitates, Benny asks, "Do you need help?"
Carter squeezes his eyes shut, terror thick in his veins. "Please," he manages to choke. He feels tears spilling through the tight seam of his eyelids. "Please, it hurts so bad. Please don't fuck me."
"Shhh." Benny runs a hand through Carter's hair. It feels just like sir's. Instead of calming him, it just makes Carter feel worse. A sob catches in his chest. "Your master didn't give me permission to do anything like that to you. I'm just here to make sure you're okay."
The wordsI'll never be okay againmaterialize on Carter's tongue. It takes a great sacrifice to keep them inside. They burn like acid.
"Do you need help, or can you roll over on your own?"
If he's being honest, Carter probablydoesneed help, but he refuses to give anyone permission to touch him if he has the chance to avoid it. So, he grits his teeth and forces his body to move.
It doesn't hurt.Hurtisn't a word that is even close to describing the sensation of his skin dragging against bedding, his muscles stretching and twitching, his bones weak, his mind fuzzy. There is no word. Not for Carter, at least. Not anymore. If it existed in his vocabulary once, it's been evicted. Beaten from his mind. Burned away by the acidity of words left unsaid.
Agony is the closest thing, but even that's not enough.
He wants to die.
Carter would giveanythingto die.
The bed shifts as Benny climbs onto it. Teeth of a zipper hiss as they're torn apart. A bottle softly clicksopen. Something is squirted onto something else.
He's going to fuck Carter. He lied. Of course he lied. These men always lie.Carter is about to be raped by someone other than sir for the very first time.
