The corners of Ash's frowning lips curled to reveal a hint of a smile as he looked at me. It was the smallest of shifts but was the most emotion he ever showed.
I shut the door behind me, leaving it open a crack to let light into the dark room that only had a small window that was covered with metal bars and cardboard that let enough light in to make out basic shapes of the clutter it was filled with. Clutter that was kept out of arms reach from the man it had been housing for more years than I was sure. I had only discovered him when I was fifteen, sent down to be locked away with the monster my parents used to always threaten me with.
The greatest monsters I knew were them.
"Miss me?" I asked with a teasing tone that felt as forced as my smile. Though I was happy to see him, I wasn't happy to take in his condition.
"Always," he replied, showing a flash of his teeth.
Instead of easing my tension, his response had my guilt growing. As bad as life was for me, Ash had it far worse. And I made it worse when I failed to get him out of here.
Making my way towards him, I crouched in front of him, placing the bottle of vodka on the ground as I reached for his hands. Though he was no longer the skin-covered skeleton I found him as months ago, he was still too thin. The food I had been sneaking down to him wasn't enough, especially for someone of his height. I was going to need to cut my own meals that had already grown smaller to add to his and dip into the measly savings I had managed to gather to get him more. He to regain his strength more than we would need the money. At least his gradual recovery made it harder for my parents to notice the changes that steadily being fed resulted in.
Hopefully, I would find us a way out of here before they managed to stay sober long enough to notice.
I winced at the sight of the blood-stiffened bandages surrounding his wrists. It had been a few days since I last had a chance to tend to them with my dad not leaving the house as much as he typically did. Preoccupied with worry about how I would continue to hide my interference as Ash's health continued to improve, it slipped my mind that his increased presence typically warned of a delivery day nearing. And a dip in Ash's progress.
Though they typically were willing to turn a blind eye to the care I provided Ash, that changed the night they found me trying to pick the locks of his old shackles with a packed duffle bag at my side that held clothes and supplies to last the both of us a few days. It was clear what I was doing. The next day they were making changes to the basement while I lay on the floor in the hallway, bloody and unconscious. They were done turning a blind eye.
Luckily, for now, it wasn't that difficult to hide my aid and the slow progress he was making behind the baggy clothes that covered him from ankle to wrist and long hair that draped over his shoulders. Despite clearly being malnourished, the strands appeared healthier and glossier than mine. His unhealthily pale skin, paler now than it was when I last saw him, was clear where it wasn't meeting the irritating material chaining him in place. The places where his skin was stretched over his bones had me feeling guilty and ashamed of the extra bit of cushioning my body held from quick, cheap, and unhealthy meals despite losing weight ever since I first unlocked the door.
Hiding his snail's pace weight gain was easy for now, but the bandages protecting his skin from the metal that had it blistering and bleeding... I got a bit creative and hoped it was enough to fool them.
Chains rattled as I grabbed his hands and pulled them towards me. The shackles encasing his wrists no longer held keyholes like they had four years ago. Now, they were welded on. Like the door and windows.
I was going to need an extension cord and some power tools when it came time to cut them off. Once Ash was well enough and everything was in place for another attempt to get him out of here. Everything had to be in place. I couldn't afford to fail again.
With how horrible my parents were with succeeding in other aspects of life, keeping Ash confined to this room was one area they strived to excel in. It always left me wondering why, but neither they nor he provided me with the answer to that question. I didn't bother trying to get it out of my parents, not after how the first attempt ended, but Ash... the way his features had stiffened and glazed over made me regret even opening my mouth when I had asked if he knew why. Though he acted like it never happened the next time I snuck down to meet him, I never tried again. I wasn't willing to face the pain I was met with.
Not until I was sure I could keep him from experiencing it again.
I pushed his fraying sleeves up. "Shit," I cursed under my breath as I took in the stiff and dark brown strips of fabric surrounding his wrists.
Though fresh bandages surrounded them, I hid them under layers of soiled and ripped strips of cloth he had attempted to protect his skin with during the years I wasn't able to help him. They hide the evidence that his wounds were being tended to by anyone but himself.
Blood had soaked through all the layers. There was more than there usually was when I changed them.
"What happened?" I asked, pausing in fear of the pain I would cause him when I peeled the thin and dried material from his skin. It wasn't going to be pleasant. Despite how thickly I had wrapped it to protect his skin from the metal that he appeared to be allergic to, it didn't protect him as much as I had hoped. The sight had me wondering if it was from scratching at his skin too hard, or from struggling against his restraints. A part of me didn't want to know, not liking the answer that I already suspected.
It was like he had struggled more than usual.
Before I could begin to unravel the soiled bandages or get the answers I wanted, Ash stiffened. His soft eyes hardened as they focused just behind me. I thought I had asked the wrong question until his rough voice spoke with an urgent command.
"Hide."
I didn't need to question the warning. It was one I was familiar with along with his expression.
Picking up the bottle again, I patted my pockets down to minimize the noise of my movements as I made my way toward the door. Swiftly and quietly pulling it shut, I locked it in a hurry before pocketing the key and rushing to the corner piled with discarded pallets and boxes. It was a practiced and tested routine.
Just as I situated myself behind the splintering wood and damp cardboard that smelled of mold and rat droppings, the sound of the door being unlocked from the outside reached my ears. I held my breath as the door creaked open.
Mom's arms shook as shoved the metal door open the rest of the way to clang against the cement wall. She staggered inside, almost falling on her face when it gave way. The effort it took for her to right herself made it evident that she had more than just the drink I had prepared her before coming down here. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice the missing bottle.
I watched through one of the peepholes the leaning pallets created as she approached him, almost falling twice on her face on the way. My body was tensed and wanted to spring into action and stop her, but just like Ash, I knew better. Both he and I didn't move an inch as she stumbled to her knees in front of him where he sat chained on the floor, his feet flat with his elbows propped on his knees. Four chains connected to the shackles surrounding each wrist and each ankle while the fifth and shortest one attached to the thick metal surrounding his neck. The skin above and below the sections I had bandaged to keep from meeting the iron was an angry red. It was better than the blistering burns and peeling flesh that direct contact led to, but the friction of struggle had blood soaking into the material.
My eyes flickered from his blank, hard eyes to the glint of metal that hit my eyes as Mom reached into the pocket of the robe she had thrown on before leaving the house. She had come here less often during the colder months once Dad had blocked off the entrance that led down here from inside, but it seemed the warmth of Russian vodka had her venturing down with her gun ready as a precaution.
Ash remained frozen, barely breathing as the older woman tumbled into him, maneuvering herself between his bent legs to press against his torso. He didn't look at her, his eyes pierced straight through her like she wasn't there. Like he wasn't there.
"Hello, pretty boy," she cooed up at him with a slimy smile that had unease crawling down my spine. She leaned in further. Placing the hard barrel of the gun at his temple, she dragged it down to his cheek as her grin grew to flash her stained teeth. "You're face is so handsome."
Neither one of us breathed as she swayed, pressing the end of the loaded weapon into his cheek.
A strained breath of relief began to ease out of my lungs when she pulled it back, but it caught in my throat when she began to trail the barrel down Ash's chest. She continued until it rested against his crotch.
"So young," she breathed against his neck before placing her lips against his skin. "You know what they say about youth. You should enjoy it."
The smirk on her lips hardened when he gave her no response. That didn't stop her.
"You can touch me," she said, raising one of his shackled hands to her breast, guiding him to cup it.
My vision flashed red. The urge to run up to them and pull her back by her hair intensified. My fingers dug into the rough wood hiding me while I reminded myself that she had a gun. One that she was still pointing at Ash's crotch. Her intentions were clear and had my nausea from earlier returning full force.
The moment she stopped supporting his hand, it dropped to the floor with disinterest.
"You're husband wouldn't appreciate that," Ash ground out through his teeth, still refusing to look her way to her growing annoyance. At the mention of Dad, it switched to anger.
Her lips curled back in a snarl as she pressed the side of the gun against his chest and shoved at him, staggering to her feet. "Did I say you could fucking speak? How dare you mention him!" Her words came out slurred and angry.
He remained unfazed.
But I didn't. Brushing my hand over the filthy floor, I found a decent-sized piece of broken-off wood and tossed it towards the door. The faint sound it created as it made an impact had Mom jerking. She cast a wary eye over her shoulder before narrowing it back on Ash.
She spit on him, hitting him on the cheek. I flinched for him when it hit his skin.
"Disgusting. Only good for one thing," she mumbled as she turned away, reaching into her pocket to retrieve a stale bun to throw toward him.
She continued to mumble to herself in anger as she made her way to the door and slammed it behind her. The sound of the lock engaging rang out in the quiet and cold room.
Waiting a few beats to make sure she didn't return, I emerged from my hiding spot and made my way to Ash's side as he wiped the spit dripping down his cheek on his shoulder.
Pulling out the roll of gauze I had grabbed, I wound it around my hand a few times before tearing it off with my teeth. Sliding it off my fingers and balling it, I raised it to his cheek to help him clean the remaining mess.
The back of my throat began to burn the longer he wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything to help. I wanted to, but neither of us stands much of a chance against a gun."
"No. I don't want you interfering. Ever. Gun or no gun." The conviction in his voice and the heat in his eyes that suddenly had no problem meeting mine had me pausing.
That wasn't going to stop me.
Not if I ever saw a chance of getting him out of here. Even if I had to sacrifice myself to do it. It would still be a win-win. Both of us would still be free of this hell.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft and gentle.
He looked away, his lips flattening in a familiar indication that the discussion was over.
I couldn't do much for his mental state, but I could help with his physical.
Reaching for his wrists again, I didn't waste time taking in the concerning sight as I pushed up the shackles to unwind his bandages and set them aside. Pulling out the bottle of vodka, I poured it over the angry red wounds I had uncovered. Ash didn't so much as blink at the sting I was sure accompanied my actions. Wrapping fresh bandages around his wrists, I covered them with a torn strip of old cloth to hide their bright and sterile appearance before moving on to his shackled ankles. The whole time I felt his eyes watching me closely.
"You look tired," he remarked as I finished and moved onto his neck.
I gave him a smile that didn't hide the bone-deep exhaustion I felt. "I am tired."
There was no point in lying to Ash. He always saw right through my fake reassurances.
He frowned as I continued to work on his neck, but didn't say much more. I was surprised he had spoken as much as he had, typically sticking to head movements to communicate and single-word responses.
"There," I said, finishing with his neck and settling the shackle that serves as a collar over the hidden fresh bandages. I reached into my pocket to retrieve the granola bars I had grabbed for him as I moved back, not wanting my position to remind him of what happened earlier. "These should-"
My breath hitched as his arms stopped my retreat and pulled me closer. Dragging me between his legs and to his chest, he held me against him as he buried his nose into the side of my neck. I felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath.
He pulled back to press his lips to the side of my head. "Thank you, Greysi."
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