Page 56 of Darkness

“I was disorientated. I didn’t know what was happening. I couldn’t see. The light had completely thrown me off. I felt sick. I was so emotional from the stress of it all that I threw up all over myself and the bean bag, but I still couldn’t see what was happening. All I knew was they could hear me losing my shit, and they were laughing their asses off.”

A fat tear falls down my cheek as pain crosses over his face.

“I was back in the dark, lying in my own vomit with my anxiety through the roof.” His nostrils flare. “And every night, they would do the same thing. Keep me in the dark, then open the door, flashing me with the bright light, disabling me completely. Then, they started throwing things in when they would flash me with the light. At first, it was simple shit like a pie in the face or a bucket of mud. Then, the real torture began. The spiders came next…”

I let out a gasp.

“Then there was shit I don’t even want to remember. So, you understand how I was living in darkness all that time. It became the only thing I could rely on. When the light came, so did the boys. So did the torture. Light was pain. Light was my enemy.” My bottom lip trembles, thinking of the horror he went through. “They didn’t let me out of that closet until social services came… four years later.”

My hand flies to my mouth. “What? I hope they were arrested!”

He clears his throat. “No… just taken to other homes. But they’re the reason I joined the club. So my brothers could help me find my revenge.”

I steady my nerves. I’m pretty sure I comprehend what that means. “And did you? Find your revenge?”

He finally smiles a genuine smile. “Let’s just say I found that fucking key, and they met the darkness. Unlike me, they didn’t get a chance to be blinded. And in some ways, the red light reminds me of what happened to them that day.”

I have no idea what that means, but I’m pretty sure all those boys are dead now. It scares me a little that I’m happy about it. There’s no doubt in my mind they deserved it. There’s no reason to torture a poor, defenseless little boy.

Animals. They were nothing but animals.

“I’m so sorry you went through that. It fucking kills me to think about what they did to you.”

His muscles relax a little, and he exhales. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for them. Did they fuck with my head? Hell yeah. Do I do things a little fucking weird? Maybe, but I am who I am. I don’t know any other way.”

My fingers slide along his chest as I stare up at him. “I happen to like who you are.”

The happiness on his face shines brightly for a split second, then everything stops. All the bad in my life is well again, just from the joy in his expression. He shines like the stars at midnight in the middle of a field, with no city lights to dull their brilliance. Despite everything we’ve been going through, the way he ignites like this from one small compliment means so much to me.

I mean as much to him as he means to me.

I hadn’t figured it out until this very second.

“That means a lot, Eva.”

I lean in, again pressing my lips to his softly. I need him to understand there’s no judgment from me about his past. If anything, I think more highly of him. He survived. I pull back with one more thing I’m desperate to find out the answer to. “Can I ask something else?”

He shrugs. “Sure, why not.”

“Why ‘Nycto?’ What does it mean?”

His hand comes up to smooth a strand of hair from my face. “It’s short for Nyctophilia.”

I furrow my brow. “Is that some kind of weird sex thing? Like… you fuck dead people?”

He bursts out laughing. “No, that’s necrophilia. Nyctophilia means I have a preference for the darkness or night. Basically, I find comfort or relaxation in the dark and get anxious in the light.”

His childhood has shaped who he is today. Even down to who he is as a biker. It’s sad in a way, but I understand something like that would stay with me too. He’s been traumatized. It changed him irrevocably. He’s trying to live his life the only way he knows how—by shutting out the light. The thing that hurts him. It might be weird to people who don’t understand, but I get it now. Though, maybe he needs to talk to someone about his issues. He obviously hasn’t had any form of counseling about his childhood.

“Nycto, have you talked to anyone about your past?”

“Yeah, sure. A few brothers here and there. The people who need to know do.”

“No, I mean, talked to someone, like a professional, to help you with your demons?”

He scoffs. “They don’t help, chiquita. What’s the point in dragging up old memories? I put it to bed when I…” He pauses. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over with. I’m fine.”

I take in the dull red glow illuminating the room. “The reason you couldn’t sleep before I got here… was it dreams? Nightmares?”

---