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“Fight back,” his father shouted as he hit him for the umpteenth time. “Come at me, you cocksucker. I know who you are.”
His father’s rage was unbridled, lashing out time and time again at Ashok until he couldn’t breathe. He should have been scared, should have feared for his life, but all he could think about was Hayden and how he’d find him beaten and surely dead. There was fuck all he could do about it. Fighting back had only resulted in a worse beating, his father striking him time and again. How he wished it was over.
He lay still, knowing that the blood that seeped from his wounds would eventually stop. They weren’t that deep, but his father wasn’t to know that. He held his breath and feigned death. It wasn’t a huge stretch with the number of times his father had beaten him.
After a final kick to the ribs, all went quiet.
“Fucking piece of shit.”
He waited a little longer but heard nothing. No one moved around, no sound at all, and he hoped against hope that he’d given up, left him alone.
His consciousness wavered, and his eyes closed against the light. It was all too much. The thought of Hayden finding him filled him with dread and sorrow at the same time. Poor Hayden, he didn’t deserve this, and Ashok knew he didn’t deserve him. He’d always seen the good in him, seen past the scars he wore, and now, if he got through this, there would no doubt be many more.
He was vaguely aware of being held, he heard the distant sound of crying, and when he finally woke, it was to see the man he’d called a friend for the past two months sitting next to his bed, his head in his hands.
He could breathe again, and that was all that mattered.
***
“Have they said anything?” He heard the unmistakable voice of Dom in the room and wondered for a moment where he was.
“Nothing. They said he could wake up. They just don’t know when.” He heard Hayden’s distraught voice and tried to speak, letting him know he was there, listening to every word. “If I find his father, I’ll beat him to a pulp.”
“What do you know, Hayden?” Dom asked again.
“If he wakes up and decides to tell you, then fair enough, but it’s not my story to tell. I won’t break his confidence.”
He was aware of someone being in his room at all times and nurses taking his vitals. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn’t seem to break out of the deep slumber.
Hayden stayed with him, never leaving his side, or at least if felt that way. Every time he came to, anything near awake, he could sense him close by and it gave him hope.
“I really need you to wake up, Ashok. I miss you so much. The house just isn’t the same with you not there. I miss your cooking; I miss you in my bed. I just miss you.”
Hayden held his hand throughout it all, and he tried so very hard to squeeze it, to let him know he could hear and feel him, but this block in his brain stopped him. He just couldn’t wake up.
“If I knew what was stopping him from waking up, I’d tell you.” An unknown voice. A doctor maybe? “There was some swelling to the brain, but it’s slowly going down. The cuts and bruises were superficial, a couple of cracked ribs, but there’s nothing I can see that’s stopping him coming too. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you any more.”
“Thank you, doctor.” That wasn’t Hayden’s voice. It was a woman, the only woman in his life. It was his mum.
He drifted again and came to again to hear another conversation.
“Thank you for calling me, Hayden. A boy needs his mother.”
“A boy needs his father too, not a piece of shit that thinks nothing of beating his son into a coma.” He could hear the anger in Hayden’s voice.
“His father does what he thinks he needs to do.”
“And you let him. Look at your son. Take a really good fucking look at him and tell me that you think it’s fine for a father to do that. He could have died, and that’s all you have to say? If I’d known, I’d not have bothered calling you. Ashok thinks the world of you, thinks the sun shines out of your arse, but you know what? He’s better off without any of you. You’ve made his life a fucking misery. He shouldn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that’s what he’s done for the past twenty-five years.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”
“And don’t you fucking dare think that what his father did is acceptable.”
“You have no proof of who did this to him.”
“Jesus, woman. It doesn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to figure it out. Look at him. Take a really good look and tell me you’re OK with this!”
Ashok wanted to tell them to stop. To stop arguing. He couldn’t believe his mum was defending his father, couldn’t believe that after all they’d been through, after all the beatings they’d endured, she would take his side.
