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He meets my gaze and nods grimly. “Yes.”
Understanding moves through me, settling in my bones like lead. “So they kicked you out, and you got sent to Canaan.”
Another nod.
Scowling, I look away, eyes darting unseeingly around the room.
“It wasn't that bad at first,” he says softly. “It was just like any other private boarding school, but it was more religious, so there was like mandatory church and stuff. But it wasn’t, like, that big of a deal.”
The more he speaks, the heavier I feel, just knowing it’s about to get a whole lot worse.
“And then they roomed me with Adam.”
I still.
“He was a grade below me, but we shared a couple electives together, and I didn’t really question it, because…people got reassigned rooms all the time. His old roommate left, so they bunked us together. And he was…nice…friendly…” His voice trails off, and when I glance over, I find him chewing his lip, his gaze staring far-off at something I can’t see. “He befriended me.”
My brows slam down on my eyes.
His jaw quivers, and if I’m not mistaken his eyes are glassier than they were a moment ago.
“I thought he liked me. He was always doing nice things for me, and waiting for me after my classes. He didn’t have any friends either, and it just…it didn’t occur to me to ask why.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I remember what he said back when we first got together…
“He just wasn’t who I thought he was, and it…it was shit after. After, okay? Not during.”
“He tricked me. It was…all a set-up.”
Slowly, I lower my hand and look up.
Skyler’s rolling his lips together, working his jaw around, like he’s trying to keep the emotions at bay.
“Sky…”
“His dad—or step-dad, rather—was one of the pastors there. Head Pastor actually. And he-he had them take me down to the basement.” He gulps and glances at me. “There was…like…a whole other program happening down there. A school within a school.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
His eyes crease, his gaze growing distant. Hazy. “They put me in a dark room for…weeks, I think. Like a prison cell.”
Jesus.
His gaze dips to his hands. “And they’d come in and restrain me during what they called my treatments. They’d drug me so I was all…floppy and out of it while they prayed and said mean things and showed me montages of weird movies and just…”
I swallow hard.
He bunches his face. “It still wasn’t enough to block out the noise. If anything, the drugs amplified it somehow. It’s like they…like they knew how much it bothered me—hurt me—and were using it to break me down.”
Running my hand through my hair, I glare up at the ceiling.What in the actual fuck?
“There were speakers somewhere in the room, and they’d just blast these awful noises…” His voice grows distant, fading. “Piercing one second, then the next, prayers on an endless loop. And then there’d be this…buzzing…like a drill..” He winces, baring his teeth.
It’s almost as if his body is remembering too, and yeah, no I can’t have that.
Scooting forward, I grab his waist, and whirl his curled up form toward me. He nearly careens to the side, but quickly finds his balance.
I clutch his biceps, ducking my head, meeting his gaze over his knees. “You’re not there.”
