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“Please,” Casey rasps, his chest heaving with the effort it takes him just to breathe. “Please. Not yet.”
Something sick and heavy twists in my gut as I realize what he’s asking. He’s begging for more time before we fuck him. I guess I can’t blame him for the assumption. I put him in a fucking bed.
“Hey, shh. We aren’t doing anything to you, okay? Just getting you in bed so you can rest.”
“Rest,” the boy echoes, his face twisting like he doesn’t recognize the word. He probably doesn’t anymore. Casey’s dull blue eyes flick between me and Travis, his bottom lip quivering. “N-not suppose’be in Master’s bed.”
I fight a wince. “That was an old rule. I’m your master now, remember, little one? I make the rules. And this is where I want you.”
More tears spill down Casey’s cheeks. I frown, wondering how many tears the boy can afford to lose before it gets dangerous. The IVs we gave him might have helped hydrate him a little, but not nearly enough.
“Nate, can you grab me a water bottle from my fridge? He’s too dehydrated.”
Travis nods, coming back a minute later with a water bottle and a banana from the bunch I keep on top of my mini-fridge for whenever I need a quick snack and don’t feel like going to the kitchen. I start to adjust Casey on the bed, trying to prop him up with some pillows. The poor boy cries out in pain. I hurriedly apologize, guilt sharp in my chest.
“What do you need to do medically?” Travis asks as I open the bottle of water and bring it to the boy’s cracked lips.
“He needs another IV with antibiotics and a sedative. The doc offered to come in and help, but I-” I pause, looking over my shoulder at him. I have to choose my words carefully. Casey might be out of it, but mentioning Carter could trigger him. “I wasn’t sure if we’d be alone. Figured the doc would get the wrong idea if we had… company.”
Also, the sooner we got rid of that piece of shit, the better.
“Fair enough.” Travis winces, his mind seeming to drift elsewhere. I’m too deep into my own worries to care about his tonight. “Do you have the supplies? I can do it.”
“In there.” I nod toward the bag that I packed before ever leaving to go get Casey, full of all the medical supplies I thought I might need. I’d rather do the medical stuff myself - my training is better than Travis’s in that department - but Casey is such a good boy drinking his water for me and I don’t want to bother him. “You sure you got it? It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. I got to brush up on my medical skills when-” Travis pauses, his eyes finding Casey. “When mine was sick.”
“Shit, right.” A flash of Carter, far too sick and broken for either of our liking, appears in my mind. That wasn’t long ago at all. God, these poor boys. I laugh humorlessly, anger boiling beneath my skin. “Was that really only last week?”
“Feels like a fucking lifetime,” Travis mumbles.
“You’re telling me.”
A week ago, Carter didn’t know the truth about the operation.
A week ago, I didn’t own a slave.
I sigh heavily, pulling the water away from Casey’s mouth when I realize it’s already half gone. The boy will make himself sick if he doesn’t pace himself. I screw the cap on, my fingers stumbling when I hear the soft, wounded sound Casey makes.
When our eyes meet, Casey cowers and squeezes his eyes shut. His chest heaves as he whispers a frantic apology. “S-sorry, Master. Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you’re fine,” I say quickly, placing a gentle hand on Casey’s knee. The boy winces. “Were you upset I took the water?”
Casey opens his eyes impossibly wide. “Upset? W-with you? No, Master! Never. Not upset. I - I swear, Master!”
Clearly, that was the wrong fucking question to ask.
“Alright. Calm down. I wasn’t-” but before I can finish, Casey is burying his face in his hands and sobbing, “Sorry,” over and over again. I just stare at his scraped knuckles and broken fingernails, not sure how to fix this. Not sure if fixing this is even a remote possibility.
It hits me then - the heavy reality of my situation. This is a fucking human being. A human being that I now own. I have to make sure he eats and drinks and sleeps. I have to make sure I don’t hurt his feelings or cause him physical harm. He’s a traumatized, broken boy that I have no business trying to help. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.
How the fuck does Travis do it? Even now, with Carter knowing the truth about everything, it still falls on Travis to keep him alive. To protect him. To care for him.
How the fuck am I supposed to do this?
“Sorry,” Casey is still saying, the word barely a whimper now. “Sorry, sorry, sorry-”
“It’s normal,” Travis says softly. I nod, knowing it’s true, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “Let’s get his IV set up. The sedative will help.”
