Silent

50. I'm sorry

"I brought you breakfast," Jean said. Michael lay there naked with nothing to shield his body with. The blanket had fallen to the floor or left there; Jean wasn't sure. He saw bruises, bruises starting in his arms, thighs, and hips. The handcuff had been set so tight that Michael could barely move. Jean took the blanket from the floor and gently placed it to shield Michael's nudity.

"So, I'm not dying today... or is that my last meal?" Michael asked with a pained voice that hardly carried. His eyes filled with both fear and hatred, the pain of this horrible awareness of what would wait.

"It's not the last," Jean said quietly.

"Do you know how it happens? Will he shoot me, will he use a knife? Or will you all just rape me until I die?" His voice broke at the end, hoarse from all the screaming, and... Jean lowered his gaze and felt his eyes watering as he saw tears running down Michael's face.

Jean knew he had no right to cry, he shouldn't show his emotions. The monster had its firm eyes on his every reaction, he was sure of it.

He needed a drink, oh how he longed for it, just one sip, surely it wasn't too much to ask?

"I don't know," Jean admitted with a sunken voice. He came closer and lowered the tray on the nightstand.

Michael gazed at the steaming teacup, half an orange, chopped apple, croissant, and a glass of orange juice. It felt ludicrous that Jean was offering him such a beautiful breakfast after the ugliness he had been forced to endure the previous night.

Tears still ran slowly from his eyes. Jean had treated him badly, but he could have never imagined anything like this from him. What had been true between them? And that pill Jean had given it wasn't Ricky's idea. How had Jean managed to get it past the monster? Why did he now offer relief when he had been the one to help bring him into this hell?

"Michael, I-" Jean started quietly as he dug the handcuff key Ricky had given him. He loosened his shackles so Michael could sit up to eat if he wanted to. He shook his head and cleared his throat, "you can sit up if you want."

Michael turned to his side and moaned, his hand was numb, and sore after a long time in the same position. He rolled awkwardly to his side, closing his eyes for a moment, gritting his teeth as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

"Why Jean? Do you hate me so much that I have to die like this?... When do you and... Ricky? God, I do not understand."

"It's not what you think," Jean said quietly, switching from English to French and Michael looked at him, frowning. He wondered if any of the other monsters spoke French.

"I don't even know what I think," Michael gasped, speaking French now as well, "you told Ricky where to find me."

"My weak moment, really weak," Jean whispered, looking irritated.

"He's watching us. There must be cameras here," Michael said quietly, looking at Jean in disgust.

"Maybe," Jean sat on the bed and brought his hand to Michael's thigh, caressing him, and Michael tried in vain to escape the touch. Jean brought his hand to his crotch. "If there are cameras here, he has to see me bring you this discomfort," he said and Michael closed his eyes bitterly, "if you hadn't started the affair with Samuel, we wouldn't be in this mess." Jean continued and grabbed a tight grip on Michael's hair. "I would have protected you," Michael let out a harsh, dry chuckle and spat in Jean's face.

"That's for your protection!" he spoke. Jean growled and tucked his hair tighter, before slapping his face with an open palm.

"Do you want my help or not?" he asked, "do you want to die here, or will you be mine?" Michael narrowed his gaze and breathed excitedly.