After getting away from his cruel father's tyranny, Randall has to learn how to live again, and accept the person he was meant to be - with a little help of a local bartender...
*****
An empty shell is all what is left of twenty-five-yea...
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-Randall-
Cole didn't let me do anything that day. Whenever I offered to help with something, clearing out the table after breakfast or preparing dinner later that day, he told me I needed to rest. I spent most of that day on the couch with the TV on, but I wasn't really watching it. Most of my focus was on Cole, even when I couldn't see him.
I didn't know what to do with his confession. The guy liked me. He still acted like he liked me, even after I'd threatened him with a knife. And called him a rapist in the middle of a busy street. Even after I'd shown him just how fucked up I was.
Why...?
"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly once he finished cleaning up after dinner.
I leaned back on the couch and lowered my gaze down to my hands. How was I feeling?
"Tired," I breathed out.
I didn't want to elaborate on it. No... He didn't want me to elaborate on it. That fucker who had ruined me.
"I'm... I feel bad for making you look after me," I said the first thing that popped into my head.
"Hey..." he said gently, leaning a bit closer to me on the couch. "I want to look after you. I want to make sure you're safe and not alone."
I nodded slowly. His words made me feel something else... Something odd... Something I still wasn't used to.
Something nice.
"I... I want to feel better," I told him. He stayed quiet, so I assumed he wanted me to go on. I took a deep breath and peered at him carefully. "When you started coming to the gym... After I started noticing..."
It was surprisingly hard to say the stuff I wanted, but Cole gave me all the time I needed to recollect myself.
"After I started noticing... you... I... felt better," I said, whispering the last words because of how hard it was to say them out loud. I looked away from him, but I did see a glimpse of his smile just before that. "I want that back..."
"You will feel better soon," he said reassuringly. "It may be a rough ride, but I am here for you. If there's anything you need, anything at all, just ask."
"Why?" I asked, finding the guts to look at him again. "I'm a fucking mess."
"I was a fucking mess too once," he reminded me, his smile fading away. "Back then, I wished I had someone to turn to. I can't just let you think you're all alone in this world. Because you're not. You have me."
I didn't question his words. He could've left me in my apartment after I pulled out the knife...
Something horrible twisted in my guts when I remembered his scar. His stab wound.
