His To Keep

Chapter Twelve

 Matthew 5:44:

But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who will persecute you.

Words could not describe what was going through my head when I placed my lips on Callum's. I was completely stunned that my mouth was against his. I didn't know what possessed me to do it, or maybe I did and the answer scared me.

I knew it was wrong, but at the same time if felt right and I didn't understand that. At first I couldn't think of anything but why was I doing this. But as I fell into his kiss more, feeling his cold lips against mine it was like time suddenly stood still.

His lips were so soft against my own that I could barely feel them. I lifted my hand and placed it on his cheek to stable myself. I felt him shudder and it made my own body do the same.

For the first time since being trapped, I felt alive and free. I couldn't believe that it was because I was kissing a boy I barely knew, a boy I was ripped from my life to be with. But everything soon changed when Callum abruptly jerked his head back and pushed me away with his hand.

Clumsily I fell back onto the hard floor and whimpered out loud from the sudden rejection. I looked up into his furious eyes and that's when reality punched me in the stomach  I kissed Callum and for a split, miniscule of a second he kissed me back. But now, as I looked up into those solemn, angry eyes I wished I hadn't of been so foolish.

 "Do not feel sorry for me!" He raged, even though it was weak it was still as threatening.

My insides churned as slowly and groaning in pain he got to his feet and staggered to the bathroom. A tear dripped from my eye as he slammed the door. 

 That was my first kiss and he rejected it. I knew I shouldn't have, but I hated seeing him so badly hurt. What Father Aaron did, somehow I knew Callum didn't deserve.  I stood up and glanced at the shut bathroom door.

I couldn't even breathe or think straight as I moved towards the door and pressed my ear against it lightly. I heard the shower running. I swallowed hard and reached out towards the handle, pulling it down momentarily. Being away from Callum made me realise how much I needed him to get through this, maybe he needed me too?

I had my doubts, espeically after he pushed me away, but I couldn't let him suffer alone. I wasn't that type of person. The door cracked open and I pushed it further so I could see inside.

 Finally my eyes wavered to Callum. He was crouched over in a sitting position in the bath. His hands were covering his face as the water pelted down on him, even though he was fully dressed. I remembered the time when he had taken me into the shower to numb out the horror of when I saw that dead girl hanging up like a slab of meat.

I got it, he was numbing out the pain. Without even knowing why I started to move towards him, until I was next to him.

"Callum?" I spoke, my voice crackling slightly.

Callum looked up from his hands, no longer was there hardness in his eyes but replaced with heart shattering sadness. They were so open to his own inner grief that I pained for him. He wasn't crying or yelling out in pain, he was silent. If I had his injuries, I wouldn't be.

He didn't say anything to me for coming into the bathroom. Instead he turned away from me leaving me shocked that he hadn't told me to get out. 

I took it as an invitation and climbed into the bath behind him. The cold water washed over my bare feet, but I ignored the coldness. I looked down to see the water was slightly pink from the blood. I sat down, gasping when the water drenched my underwear and the bottom of my clothes. But I didn't care because my eyes were now glued to Callum's trembling frame. Something inside of me sparked and once again I was left wanting to make his pain go away.

 I reached out my hand, which was shaking as I took hold of the hem of his t-shirt. I felt him stiffen as I began slowly pulling up the thin fabric away from his back. My eyes widened when they came to something that robbed my breath away.

 Brutal, bloody gashes seared the milky skin of his toned back. But what got me shaking was as I lifted his t-shirt up further the worst, deepest cut of them all started forming into a large crucifix taking up most of his back.

He'd been whipped. The harsh, red skin was raised and it bled all the way down his back. My eyes burned as I pulled his t-shirt over his head as gently as I could. He winced slightly when a trail of water ran down his back, washing away the blood like a stream of red dye.