Page 49 of Lightness In My Dark

Family pictures hung on both sides of the hallway, ranging from small to large. I stopped to inspect them. There was a wedding picture of Finn’s parents. A beautiful couple. No wonder he and Carter were gorgeous. Then a wall of scattered pictures from their childhood, camping, skiing, and in Italy. The pictures stopped around the age of twelve, and then another succession of pictures of the Trevino boys in their late teens and adulthood with Cole.

Finn waited for me by an open door at the end of the hall. Inside, all types of workout equipment filled the expanse of the room. A complete home gym. High ceilings, the front of the room faced onto a garden with floor to ceiling windows, fans and an air conditioning and heating system.

I wandered around and said, “I can’t believe I never saw this room.” He folded his arms while his eyes locked on me as I traveled around the place. I gave him a casual grin. “From the beginning, I was afraid to come down the hall.”

My hand brushed the padding on one of the workout machines. I sat down, trying to figure out how it worked, when Finn stopped in front of me.

“This is a Pec Deck machine to work your pectorals.” He pointed to two black things at the base with a bar running across it with padding. “Put your feet under there.” Then he bent over me to take a metal piece out and reinsert it. “Place your forearms on the large cushions and grip the handles.” I followed his directions.

“Now squeeze your arms together.” I tried, but I could only get it halfway.

He went back to reinsert the metal piece and told me to try again. My arms squeezed together, although difficult.

“Good job!” I gave him a bashful smile, doing five more reps.

“This is an incredible gym.” I made my way over to the corner. “And you even have a punching bag.” I threw my arms in the air and let them fall to my sides. “You have everything. When did you get interested in weightlifting?”

Finn laid on a machine cushion, put his shoulders underneath pads, his feet flat on a platform, and straightened his legs as the back part rolled up. He bent his knees as the back and shoulder pads lowered.

“I don’t just lift weights. This machine is called a Hack Squat.”

I scanned him, up and down the muscles throughout his body contracted with every movement. My eyes drank in his beauty. The contours of his thigh muscles as he pushed up, the compression of his abs, biceps flexed and then rested. Finn’s body was a landscape of hills and shadowed valleys, peaks and caverns, a journey toward the nether lands. He wasn’t muscled up to the point he couldn’t put his arms down or his legs together. The room became sweltering, so I fanned myself with my hand.

When our eyes met, he had stopped the machine, holding a crooked smirk. “To answer your question…” He got off it. “… I started while in foster care.”

I took a quick inhale. My head bent to the side, eyebrows dipping down.

He pointed at me and said, “See? You thought I had a life of ease, didn’t you?” I bit my bottom lip in agreement.

“To a point, I did.” He gauged my reaction before going over to the front windows. He spoke nonchalantly. “Our parents died in a terrorist attack in London when I was thirteen-years old, and Carter eleven.”

About to give my condolences, he silenced me with his hand. Instead of interrupting again, I sat on one machine.

The indifference in tone remained. “Unfortunately for us, my parent’s Will stated we would receive nothing until we turned eighteen-years old. The money awaited us in a trust when we reached that age. Our aunts and uncles didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of us. They had their own money and children, so taking two more on was a burden for them.” He let out an aggravated breath, talking toward the garden. “They denied Cole’s request to the courts to foster us. He wasn’t married or had a secure job since my parents employed him.” Finn wrapped some tape around his hand as he spoke. “They put us in a group home until a foster family took me when I was fourteen-years old, splitting up Carter and me. While in their care, the foster father molested me.”

My mouth opened, closed, covering it to prevent sound from escaping.

“The harder I fought, the angrier it made him, so he restrained me to the bed.” If I wasn’t intent on inspecting him, I would have missed the brief, unsettling emotion he brushed away.

“At least the fucker made sure not to cause damage. He lubed me up enough so I could take his tiny dick in the ass. After the initial cries, clenching to keep him at bay, I stopped so the pain wouldn’t be so extreme. His tattooed hands fondled me. I ran away a week later.”

A tear drifted down my cheek, my breathing ragged, swallowing the sympathy I had for him. I understood his disdain toward tattoos. He was young and fragile, and the monster crushed his spirit. Finn turned to me for a moment, and took a jab at the punching bag, still talking off-handedly.

“After some time back at the group home, they sent me to a new foster home at fifteen-years old, with two sisters, seventeen and eighteen years old. They would pin me down and sexually assault me with restraints. Aside from masturbating, I never had someone touch my cock, other than my molester, let alone suck it.” Finn cleared his throat, threw more punches at the bag, and continued, “They took my virginity. One would sit on my face while the other stroked my dick until she could ride it. If I didn’t lick them the right way, get hard fast enough, or come too fast, they’d smack my face or balls, cursing at me, and swapped positions. They’d also used other objects for punishment.

“I was at their mercy, and at first, the sensations and actions scared and confused me. But it didn’t last. Their abuse became enjoyment. In a way, they were my sexual awakening. They provided me with many experiences. And then the tables turned. I dominated both, catching each off guard, using all their holes, and degrading them. It became a game, morphing into a craving. It’s why I never ran and remained there until I hit eighteen.”

My hands shook as I consumed the sadness at what he was telling me. His behavior when we first met, his emotional struggles, made sense now. The way he romantically distanced himself. Aside from what he learned from his parents, he didn’t know or understand how to handle affection. It’s as if he locked it away to protect himself from all his abusers, and instead of unlocking them, he tossed the key to prevent future insult. His jaw clenched as he threw another punch at the bag. It rocked on its secured chain.

“Afterwards, I joined a gym and started boxing. From there, I began weightlifting. Once I turned eighteen, Cole and I bought a house, and I petitioned the courts for Carter. Since we were brothers and I had trust money, they accepted it. I went to college while Cole watched over Carter. Cole’s the only one who knows what happened to me in foster care. I had some nightmares, and he grilled me until I confided in him. I never told Carter. Too innocent and happy. I couldn’t shatter that.”

Now I understood the age gap in the hallway pictures. The pictures with his parents, and then their new family after foster care. “Finn.”

“No.” He shook his head and removed the tape. “Don’t make it something. It’s in the past.” He tossed the tape into a wastebasket. His eyes fastened on mine. “I don’t know why I told you all of that.” Finn glanced out the window as if searching for an answer.

I couldn’t imagine what he had gone through, and yet, he wanted nothing to do with pity. The silence cracked the discomfort. The veiled darkness as he spoke had disintegrated.

Finn gestured to me as we walked through a connected door into another room. It was smaller than his workout area, but still had the same beautiful high ceilings and large windows, opened onto the garden. He walked to the middle of the room, while my head swiveled around filled with surprise.

---