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“How many of you are there?”
“Time to stop asking questions. I need you to shut up and be still so I can get these off,” the man barks.
“No.”
The man sighs roughly. He turns on a light hanging above Everett and pulls something from his pocket. “I guess we'll be doing things the hard way, then.”
“Wh—” Everett's words are cut off and replaced by a loud zapping sound. His body convulses when the man shoves his hand against him, flickers of electricity sprouting between them. It's a Taser. He keeps shocking Everett until his body goes still and his eyes roll in the back of his head.
“You keep doing that, and you're going to kill him,” I shout.
The man turns around and waves me off. “Relax, he's still alive.”
“He better be,” I grumble, digging my nails into the concrete.
“If it's okay with you, I'd like to get back to doing my job now.”
“If that's what you want to call it,” I say, mockingly.
He ignores my last comment and goes back to cutting Everett's clothes off his body. Shreds of fabric fall to the floor and he pulls a trash bag from his pocket to place it all inside. He walks to the other side of the room and comes back with a running water hose. Placing his finger over the front opening, he sprays Everett down while rinsing off the floor around him in the process, the water running into the large drain beside him. “Much better.”
After turning off the faucet, he rushes out the door and comes back minutes later with a towel and blanket. He dries Everett off and lays his body on the folded blanket before leaving the room again. I watch as Everett's chest rises and falls, his breathing ragged. After all this time and all he's done, my breath still catches in my throat when I see him.
Doesn't matter how many bruises or cuts cover his skin. If anything, he's more beautiful this way. He's no longer too perfect. He's tattered and slowly breaking. It's hard to look away. He cries out but his eyes still don't open. He wiggles against the restraints, his breathing growing ragged. “No,” he says. “Please. Don't hurt him. Take me instead,” he begs.
“Everett,” I call out.
“No,” he says again, this time louder. His eyes remain closed and he goes still again. He's dreaming. He's invaded my sleep for years, so it's about time I take over his.
He kicks a few times, mumbling incoherent words. This goes on for what feels like hours. As much as I hate to admit, it's rather comforting. His sounds, even if unsettling, still belong to him, filling the room with his presence. As strong as my hate is for him, my longing is stronger. If only I could turn it off, life would be a lot easier. I wouldn't have such a large weakness—him.
He startles awake, quickly shifting into a sitting position. “Fuck. I'm still here.”
“And it won't change no matter how much you want it to,” I say.
He turns toward me, and I wish I could see his face better, wanting to read his expression. The light above him might be on, but he's no longer sitting directly under it. “I keep hoping it's a horrible nightmare caused by guilt.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. It's much worse. Now you get to sit here surrounded by the mistakes of your own actions.”
“How long have you been down here?”
“You think I have some hidden calendar somewhere? How the hell should I know?”
He sighs, scooting closer, not stopping until his chains prevent him from going any farther. “You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course you wouldn't know. Have you been here this whole time?”
“You mean since the day I witnessed my whole world shattering around me?”
“The day your father was arrested.”
“Yes. I've been here ever since, only leaving this room to go to another. As awful as this one must seem to you, I can guarantee the other one is much worse. Be glad you haven't left this one and pray you never do.” I bend my knees to my chest and bury my face between them, soft sobs coming from me.
“Fuck, Iggy. I'm so sorry. It's not fair. None of this is. I thought I could save you from it all. I should have done better.”
“You should have never come into our lives at all,” I say, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
“You're right. I wish I hadn’t. Maybe it would have kept you from ending up here, then again maybe it wouldn't. Your father has suffered at the hands of many to stay where he is. He's sunk to the bottom before he could rise to the top more than once. Everyone does in this life.”
“Are you trying to say I would have landed myself here anyway?”
