Page 57 of Agony

They stumbled away from the bed, yanking up unbuttoned pants. One grabbed a shirt from the ground and then the arm of the man still reeling from the blow to his balls.

The door slammed and Fisher dropped to the side of the bed. After a long moment, he moved his eyes to the corner.

Boston looked like a deer caught in headlights. The boy was just the age that Tanis liked. How the hell had Boston gotten away from him?

He’d get the answer tomorrow because right now, he couldn’t even think straight.

“You can stay there in that corner or crash on the bed, I don’t give a shit. But nobody is going to touch you again.”

The words lost some of their impact when he slurred like a bitch, but fuck it. He’d blow their fucking brains out if anyone touched the kid.

There were two types of animals in this world—fight or flight. Boston was a flight animal and he stayed frozen in his corner. A long time ago, Fisher had been one of those flight animals…once upon a time.

Now? He was a fucking fighter, but he still had doubts. Right at that moment, he felt like a fucking flight animal and he hated that Justice had done that to him.

He hated that Justice had fucked him over.

His eyes prickled. It must have been the weed and booze, and he flopped back on the bed and tossed his arm over his eyes.

He couldn’t stop the lump from growing in his throat when he finally recalled what he’d thought was a beautiful morning.

No! Not beautiful.

Something inside of him fought the mush of his brain.

He didn’t want to remember!

Because on the heels of anything good in his life were the memories of horror.

The fog in his brain parted like the Red Sea and he was faced with memories that he didn’t want.

And as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop the sudden influx of what had happened from slamming through…

Caught and held, his mind trapped him and he was sent spiraling into the past, back to that time…

On that ominous day, Fisher had been driven awake by the same nightmare.

Only that time, it had been his reality.

A nasty-tasting film coated his tongue for one and for another, he was no longer laying snug in Justice’s bed.

A different ceiling lay above him and a cot beneath. Jerking upright, his eyes flew around the enclosure.

Bars were on three sides with a wall at his back.

He was caged.

This had to be a mistake.

Bile coated his tongue and he scrambled off the bed and threw up orange juice on the concrete floor.

“Take it easy, Fisher. You’re okay.”

At the quietly murmured words, he whirled around and spotted Justice on the other side of the bars sitting on a chair.

Staggering over to the caged door, he gripped the bars and violently shook them.

“This is not funny. Open the door.” He glared, the words coming through a throat that felt raw, and he slammed his palm against the metal.

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