Waifs and Strays [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Fifty-One

Enjoy x

When I am finished talking, Harry looks at me in horror. His face is ashen and his eyes are filled with tears. But I know that he is trying to keep them from spilling, for my sake. He doesn't say anything, only raises his hand to gently wipe his thumb under my eyes. I didn't even notice that I had started to cry while talking. When I finally become aware of my body again, I notice that my hands are sweaty and I am shaking.

"I think the huge guy was gay, too," I say with a hoarse voice and suddenly feel clear about it. I look at Harry and when I see his expression, I start sobbing again, one hand hiding my face. He doesn't reply. Instead, he takes my shaking hand into his own, caressing the back of it with his thumb. He doesn't even seem to mind the sweat on my palms.

I sniffle quietly before I start speaking again. "I mean, I could be wrong. He could've just been aroused by the brutality of it all. Like, some people get off on violence, right? I mean like real violence. The one that has nothing to do with sex. There are people like that out there, right? But I don't think that was it for him," I rant in a frantic voice.

I can't seem to stop. I've never spoken about that night, never voiced my recollections of it. Now that they are out, I feel like I have found an outlet. A tool to release all that bottled-up fear and horror that I carried around for 7 years. It feels like I might have a nervous breakdown if I stop talking.

"I think he got aroused because of me," I say in a rushed voice, "Young teenage boy," I breathe shakily, "at his mercy. Naked. He-he kept looking at me with those-" I hick up and another sob escapes my mouth before I can finish the sentence.

"Shh, breathe, love," Harry whispers reassuringly, pushing my fringe out of my eyes affectionately without letting go of me with his other hand. He looks at me and waits until I nod and we both take a breath together.

"Looked at me with those greedy eyes," I continue when my breath has calmed down a bit, "and he seemed to like all those sexual things. Like choking me and sticking his finger into my mouth and," I swallow hard because my mouth has gone dry from all the talking, "and he kept on asking me what I like and what exactly I did with the guy on the toilet and I just-" another sob escapes my throat and I squinch my eyes shut when I feel tears building up behind them again.

I can feel Harry's arms loop around my shoulders before they pull me close to his chest, our legs getting tangled in the process. But it doesn't matter how uncomfortable our position is. When I feel his warm chest pressing again mine, I hide my face in his shoulder and start crying silently. Harry caresses my back comfortingly and presses as kiss against my temple.

"I was so scared, Harry," I say in between two sobs and bury my fingers into his shirt.

"Oh darling," Harry whispers in his deep, calm voice, "My sweet, beautiful boy," he says into my ear and raises his hand to run his fingers through my hair. At the feeling, a shudder runs through me and I sigh when I feel my body relax gradually. "I am so sorry that this has happened to you," he adds quietly, and I know that he means it. Not in a pitying way but in an honest and caring way.

He makes me feel like I am worth something. Like he really wants me to be happy. My whole body shakes from the next wave of sobs. But I don't even feel embarrassed in front of him for some reason.

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispers against my hair, rocking us sideways, "I'm here. You're save now."

When I hear his last sentence, I perk up to look into his eyes. "But I'm not, am I," I say in a high-pitched tone, "They never leave me. Those memories, I mean. I never stopped having nightmares of that night. It's been seven fucking years and they keep coming back to me."