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Rian sinks deeper into the couch looking at the photos in his lap.
He takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm and stop crying.
Harris is just overwhelmed with responsibility. His husband is not a bad man. They met because of Cyril.
Why would he marry Rian if he doesn’t care about his emotional state?
Rian must forgive him. Harris is just tired.
Rian reaches for his husband's hand and takes it in his.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll get cleaned up.”
Harris nods in acknowledgment. His hand feels lifeless between Rian’s as Rian is searching for some semblance of softness in his eyes. Where has it all gone? Just months ago, Rian had been showered with tenderness only to have all that warmth pulled beneath his feet abruptly, leaving him out in the cold.
Rian knows his husband is agood man. Harris has helped so many people through his charities.
Harris pulls his hand away from Rian’s clasp and wipes it in his shirt. “Come on, get up. We’re going to be late.” He sounds annoyed, but at least he doesn’t seem as angry anymore.
Rian must have lost his damn mind because he dares to ask Harris if he still has connections high enough in the Army administration to check on Tayida. He simply wants to know if he is alright. If he is even alive. It’s his birthday too.
Harris glares at him, danger written in his eyes, but once Rian has begun talking, the desperation drives him forward without any reason. Maybe this time, Harris would listen.
“They were like brothers. Ty’s someone I consider family. Tayida is a living extension of Cyril. I miss him. They were so close ––”
Rian has failed to notice the change in his husband’s expression. His attractive features have twisted into something menacing as his eyes never move away from him, tracking him in a predatory way as he is giving his animated speech. Rian stops talking. He’s breathless but hopeful, smiling softly through his tears.
That is the moment Harris chooses to exact his brutal attack, grabbing a fist full of his hair, and dragging him to the floor where he kicks him, grunting and hissing menacing insults. It is so sudden, that Rian doesn’t even think to raise his arms to defend himself or to protect his face. Harris leans in, striking him so hard, that the bruising on his face doesn’t go down for weeks after. He is lucky there are no broken bones.
Once the sudden assault is over, Harris screams, panting in his face, “I’m sick of you asking me about other men. I’m your husband, for fuck’s sake! I’m not here to set you up with new boyfriends! Grow. The. Fuck. Up! Your bastard of a brother is dead! He isn’t coming back, no matter how many yarns you stretch and how many sob stories you spin! He is dead because he was a coward and a weak piece of shit! He got what he deserved!”
Rian should leave immediately. Logic tells him, this episode is absolutely unacceptable. Normal people don’t put up with abuse like this. Spouses are not supposed to do this to each other.
However, Harris has always been just as good at pretending to be sorry as he is at manipulating him into thinking perhaps his asking about Ty had somehow been too hurtful. That he was being inappropriate.
And of course, Rian believes it.
Rian always feels guilty that he has never once shared with Harris the fact he has had a crush on Ty for years. Things hardly change in the years to come. Even if Rian, wouldn’t say a single word, the date of Cyril’s birth alone would trigger Harris into a violent assault.
* * *
1STOF NOVEMBER 2021
Rian spends the next couple of years trying to make Harris happy. He is wholeheartedly hoping to somehow turn things around between them and get back to the early months of their relationship when his husband had been his kind and thoughtful knight in shining armor. But no matter how hard he tries to please Harris, there is always some tiny detail that seems to antagonize this monster pushing him fast into violent outbursts.
Whether it be Rian’sdisrespectfultone, Rian’s lack ofappropriatesexual drive to accommodate the needs of his husband, or Rian’sridiculous obsessionwith his dead brother Cyril, it takes only seconds for the spark of anger to bloom into an inferno of unstoppable rage.
This time Rian tries to fight back, but Harris has so much more weight on him, as well as actual combat experience, that his attempts to protect himself are completely futile.
His husband abandons Rian on the cold marble floor of their grand kitchen. Rian comes back into consciousness alone and in pain, the tiles beneath his stiff body smeared with blood and the dry dinner leftovers mixed with shards of porcelain from the broken plates.
Rian barely manages to drag himself to the master bedroom, limping, falling, and crawling on his way there. He goes straight into the bathroom to clean himself up. There is dry blood on the back of his head, the pain from the wound throbbing and dull. He reaches with trembling fingers, barely grazing the gash on the back of his head, trying to assess the damage. As soon as his fingers make contact, a searing flash of agony takes control over his whole body. Rian sobs pitifully, certain he has done nothing to deserve this, yet feelings of inadequacy and baseless guilt are suffocating him through his cries, and he can’t help but wonder if he hasn’t been at fault somehow.
After all, he had invited this monster into his life, into his bed, and into his hopelessly trusting heart. Time and time again, Rian had tried to please Harris. He had done his best to make things work between them, only to be rewarded with similar moments of blind rage.
Removing his clothes takes him forever, as they are sticky with his sweat and the back of his shirt is soaked with blood. So much blood. Every time, he leans forward, he feels like he is about to black out and fall over. Rian presses on with enormous effort. Intrusive, fearful thoughts prevail in his assault-addled mind.
Dirty.
