Healing Gabriel: Chapter Seven
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※(*)※Gabriel's POV※(*)※
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"I could've paid for myself..." I said quietly to Evan when the three of us sat down in a booth by a window in the corner of the small restaurant. He sat next to me, Alana across from us. She didn't seem to mind not sitting by her boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
I was amazed by Alana, the girl back in the hospital room from what seems so long ago. She'd been taken advantage of in one of the cruelest ways, and yet...look at her! She's beautiful, funny, and overall, very flamboyant. Why couldn't I be like her? Why did I have to be so...so afraid? I'm the guy, aren't I supposed to be fearless? Isn't she supposed to be the one who can't stand the idea of being touched or even looked at the wrong way?
One glance at Alana, and it doesn't even look like she was raped. I always see her in the hallways, dancing and laughing, talking to both popular and unpopular students. She's always smiling, not afraid to touch people, and she seems to love kisses.
I am absolutely nothing compared to her.
"Nonsense," Evan said, bringing me back to reality. "My treat. So, Alana. You wanted to talk?"
"Yeah," she said, taking a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. After she swallowed, she looked at me. I gave a slight nod, then looked out the window.
"You know about Gabriel being molested, correct?"
I felt my chest grow tight, but I bit my tongue to keep from breaking down. I was not going to start crying in public. I am better than that.
No you're not.
"Yeah...wait, how do you know? Did he tell you?"
"He didn't have to tell me. I already knew."
"I'm confused. Can you explain what you mean by that?"
"I was there at the same place Gabriel was kidnapped. Only, we were in separate rooms." The way Alana said it, so calmly and quietly, both caused anger and admiration from me. I was angry that I couldn't talk about it without my voice cracking and my eyes watering. But I admired Alana that she could talk normally about something so awful and terrible.
"Are you serious? No, stupid question. Oh, my God. You guys...are both so...different, though! You're all calm and happy...and Gabe's all...all..."
"Overreactive?" I finished for him, looking away from the window and at the two of them. Evan's eyes met my own.
"Cynical," he corrected me, looking away.
"Different people handle their traumas in different ways," Alana explained to Evan.
"I know, but...you were, like, deflowered. He was only touched and stuff."
I folded my arms over my chest, self-concious and annoyed that Evan thought being m*lested was any less than being r*ped. He doesn't know what I had to do, what I had to watch every single day for almost six months.
"That is where the backgrounds come in," Alana said, taking a sip of her pop. I sat down Indian style on the booth, prodding at my garden salad with my plastic fork. Again, I don't have much of an appetite.
"What do you mean?" Evan asked.
"The man kept the girls in a clean room with plenty of beds and showers. He also fed them three meals a day. We also got to wear our bras and underwear. But he used us over and over again, which...was really the only negative part, I guess." She did a dry laugh before continuing. "But the boys were kept in much different living conditions. Their wrists and ankles were shackled to dirty stone walls. The ground was filthy and full of vomit, blood...and many other things that I'm afraid of listing in front of Gabriel. But, anyways, the boys were not allowed to wear clothing. Ever. And once the man was done with them, it was back to the shackles they went. They got only a small cup of water and piece of moldy bread once every three days."
I closed my eyes tightly, looking down at my lap. The memories of the place became alive in my mind. The stench of the musty room, puke, and rotting or unwashed skin of the dozens of boys.
"You see, it wasn't just a simple 'touch' down there. It was many things. Many disgusting, illegal things. To think about them gets your stomach churning, but to be in the midst of the act of them? That's what scars Gabriel. He was in a worse environment than me. He was not given a break between the activities. He and the others boys were in much worse conditions than the girls."
When Alana paused to devour some of her food and let the past sink into Evan's thick head, I felt his eyes trained on me. But I couldn't look up, because I know if I did, I'd burst into an endless stream of tears.
"How do you...know all this?" Evan asked her. I was curious, too.
"I had a secret air vent that went to the boys and girls rooms. I would go up there to escape the rest of the day, so I could see what was happening with the boys through tiny vents."
"How many victims escaped the guy?"
"Two. Gabriel and I. When the police came, I was in the hallway, and so was Gabriel. We were chained to opposite sides of the walls across each other. I had a bobby pin clenched in my hand the whole time that I found in one of the air vents. I unchained myself, then Gabriel. He was afraid, broken, and just so...disoriented. We escaped the building, though, and made it to the police. The others inside the rooms were released to an emergency toxic gas that would kill them instantly with just one inhale."
I was lost in my own world, now. I zoned out of their conversation, forced to be pulled back into the terror, the thing that kept me running frantically and forced me to be terrified for the past four years.
My past.
So dark, painful, and disgusting. It made me feel so haunted, terrified, and alone. Oh, God. I felt so alone.
"Evan?" I whispered in a hoarse voice, finally getting myself back to reality. Evan's warm brown eyes met mine.
"Gabe..." he said, holding out an unsure hand. I pressed my forehead to it, closing my eyes tightly.
"He's comfortable with you touching him," Alana thought aloud.
"Not really. He'll only allow me to touch his head."
"Still, it's better than nothing."
Evan shrugged, but continued to lightly rub the top of my head. Wasn't Alana jealous? Upset? Why is she okay with the idea of her boyfriend touching me in a way that he wouldn't touch many other guys?
"True. Hey, is there a reason why he doesn't like to eat?" Evan knew that I wasn't going to talk to him when I was in this mood. I was fine with that, though. I didn't want to ignore him, but also, I didn't want to speak.
"...He may not even be fully aware of the reason himself," Alana murmured. Which was true. I didn't know why I disliked eating so much.
"So...what are you thinking?"
"I'm positive that he's just fine with the idea of eating. It's just...Hey, Gabriel. Do you like hot dogs?"
I shook my head, no. I absolutely hated hot dogs. But, once again, I was confused about why.
"Aha! I'm sure I've got it now. He doesn't like things in his mouth."
As soon as she said that, I realized that it was true, and curled up in the corner of the booth. Which meant that I retreated from Evan. He seemed to understand what she meant, because he choked on his cheeseburger.
"That's disgusting!" he said.
"It's true."
"He was only thirteen?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
I covered my ears. Stop bringing up the memories, I thought, wishing I had telekinesis. I rested my forehead on my knees, now sitting in a ball, closing my eyes and biting my tongue to keep from sobbing. I felt something wet leave the corner of my eye and trail down my cheek.
Crap.
"Gabriel...are you alright?" asked Alana in a caring tone. I nodded my head without looking up. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." My voice cracked at the end, giving my true emotions away. Why couldn't I be like Alana? Why did I have to be the sissy that was an emotional wreck? Don't people like me get put in mental hospitals or something?
"Hey, it's okay," Evan said. I felt a his hand touch the back of my head, playing with my hair in a soothing way. I was alarmed when I actually felt my body start to unwind, the very, very faint muscles in my arms starting to relax. The only reason I had those 'muscles' was because I hit puberty about, embarrassingly enough, six months ago.
A shiver ran throughout me as I felt myself give in to his touch. I ditched my 'fetal' position, letting my feet touch the ground. I lifted my head up slowly, just to see cool, dark green eyes looking into my own.
"Evan, you're amazing," Alana breathed, smiling, looking away from me and at him.
"I didn't even do anything," he said, returning his hand back to his side. How depressing.
"Of course you did! You got him out of the dark place in his mind. I couldn't even do that. Actually, you seem to be the only one who can do so."
That's a lie, I thought. The emotion of grief conquered me. I slipped underneath the table, then crawled passed Evan and Alana's legs. I stood back up when I got back out in the open.
"You could have just asked me to move," Evan sighed, shaking his head.
I looked around us. The people in the restaurant were all laughing and talking, minding their own business. None of them noticed the table in the corner occupied by a sex-god, a gorgeous, good-natured young woman, and a freak show on legs. You can guess who is who.
"Excuse me for a moment," I mumbled. Evan was about to say something, but I shook my head and scurried off to Pop's washroom. What one should I go in? The girl's? Because I've been acting like one a lot, lately.
I reluctantly slinked inside the boy's, glad to find it vacant of any guys. I always hated public restrooms, but now, it didn't matter. My life was gone and done for, anyways. Who cares if I'm m*lested, or, even worse, r*ped? I stopped thinking, instead sitting on the bathroom sink with my back pressed against the mirror.
Sixx.
That was all I wanted. I wanted him.
Evan is not the only one who can coax me out of my dark place. Sixx could, too.
That's right, could.
Back then.
Past tense.
I lowered my head and thought about how much of an awful person I was.
~*~
〒|〒Evan's POV〒|〒
"He's been in there for almost ten minutes..." Alana sighed, drumming her fingers against the tabletop.
I took another sip of my water to soothe my sore throat. "I'll go check on him," I replied, scooting out of the booth. I started to walk towards the bathrooms across the small restaurant, when I felt a hand grab my wrist.
"Hey, tell him you ended it between us."
"What? Why?" I asked, turning around and facing Alana. Yes, our little 'relationship' was actually just a facade.
"He needs you. Especially now. It's hard for someone who's been sexually assaulted to return back to their regular lives and gain control of their former personalities. Believe it or not, I was just like Gabriel until I turned fifteen. That was a year ago. You pretty much just opened up all of his scars, letting all the pain and swelling and dead-inside-feelings out, Evan. Now, you have to help him heal them the right way."
Both of us stood silent, searching each other's eyes. Thirty seconds passed. "I don't want to him him the wrong idea...I'm not gay," I said, rubbing the back of my neck with the hand that Alana wasn't gripping.
Alana smiled softly, then shook her head. "Give it up, Evan. You may have everyone else fooled, but I know that you're freaking crazy for that kid."
I was confused by my emotions for Gabe. Some days, I liked him as a friend. But on others, I loved him like a lover. It's like, whenever I was with him, a part of me begged to get romantic. And somehow, his vulnerableness broke down my straight-guy barricade, and I couldn't help but...flirt. Is that even the correct way to put it?
"I expect you two to be perspiring and shaking from lust for each other in a few months," Alana murmured in my ear, then pulled away. I stared at her, bewildered. She giggled, than sat back down in the booth. "Go get him, Tiger!" she cheered quietly, giving me a thumbs up.
"You...are...perverted," I said, continuing to look at her. She simply waved me off with her hand, still smiling. As soon as I turned away from her, I felt a small smirk pull at my lips.
"Hey," I said, opening the guy's bathroom door. Gabriel, seated on the marble of the washroom sinks, jerked his head up. His face was occupied with the emotion of apprehension, along with dry-streaks of former tears. "You okay?" I asked, walking slowly over to him.
He looked back down at his lap again, doing a quick nod. "I kind of want to go home," he whispered. His voice was very hoarse.
I stood in front of him, staying silent, thinking about what to say. Gabriel kept looking at his lap. I glanced at it, just in time to see a tear drop and be absorbed by his jeans. "Gabriel, hey. Look at me." Seconds passed until watery, dull blue eyes that were filled with grief met mine. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his sweat shirt's sleeve. "Nothing, I'm just tired." The sound of his voice was more than tired. It was upset, fearful, and he was most-definitely grieving. But for whom? Did he have friends back at that rapist's place?
"Don't lie to me, Gabe."
"I'm...I'm not lying."
"Yeah," I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest, "and I'm not wearing any boxers."
Gabriel placed his hands at his sides, looking at me in alarm
"I was kidding!" He still suspected me of being boxer-less, so I rolled my eyes and pulled the side of my denim jeans down a bit to reveal a bit of the waistband. "See?" He flinched, then smiled a bit.
"Pink is actually my favorite color."
"That was kind of random..."
"Look at your boxers, Evan."
I did as he told me to do, then felt myself turn red in the face due to embarrassment. I immediately tugged my jeans back up, then looked down at my feet. "There was a red sock that got mixed in with the whites..." I trailed off because he could figure out the rest on his own.
I heard feet land against the tile ground. "Darn those red socks," his voice sighed. I felt fingers lightly brush the back of my hand. I looked at my side to see Gabriel's fingers silently playing with my own in a very careful, gentle manor.
"Does this mean I'm allowed to touch your hands and your head?"
His hand stopped moving right when his fingers were starting to interweave with my own. "No. You're not allowed to touch me anymore. But I can touch you. Okay?"
"That's not fair. You can't just-" I started, but was cut off when he placed the rest of his hand in my own.
"I think...I'm starting to like you, Evan," he whispered.
We both looked up from our entwined hands and at each other. Our gazes were locked on the other's. "That's a good thing, Gabriel," I said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His hand was so soft and childlike, but so cold. Gradually, it became warmer as I kept our hands together. That was when I noticed it.
His hands weren't shaking.
"No," he said, shaking his head, "it's not."
"Why so?"
His voice was cut off by the sound of a toilet flushing.
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Note
Ooh...cliffhanger...I think... X3
I'd just like to thank all of my fans so freaking much! You guys enrapture me!<33
Don't forget to vote and comment! Hope you enjoyed chapter seven!
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