Page 11 of Running Feral

I know I should suggest he goes to the police, but what’s the point? He would definitely refuse, and he’d probably be right to do so. Police have a hard time protecting women from their abuser when it’s just some schlub. But two men, which already throws most people through a loop? When the abuser in question is a violent, intelligent criminal, living in a network of criminals?

No. The cops won’t protect Tobias, and making waves will put him in even more danger than he already is.

I sigh, not bothering to hide it from him. I know his face is a mess, but I can also feel wetness on his clothes that I’m hoping isn’t blood. Although hope isn’t going to get me far in this situation. He needs more care than I can provide.

“Maybe I could—” he hesitates. “Would it be alright if I took a bath? I think I’m dirty and shaken up more than anything. If you help me into it, I can get myself cleaned up and then it won’t look so bad.”

“Okay.” I manage not to sigh again.

I peel myself out from under him, even though we both seem reluctant to let go, and pad over to the bathroom to turn on the water. While the tub is filling, I grab whatever soft clothes I have that might not be too insanely big on him and lay them on thelid of the toilet before finally turning the water off. It’s warm, but not so hot it’ll be a shock to him when he’s already shaky.

My mind is cranking in the background, trying to figure out any options I have for getting someone to look at him that he won’t immediately refuse. But I guess I can focus on this first, and maybe get a better evaluation of how bad his injuries really are.

This time, when I help him up from the couch, he’s able to walk. He still leans heavily into me, but together we get him limping over to the bathroom. For once, I’m grateful my apartment is so small. Once we’re standing next to the tub, I help him slip out of his worn sneakers that don’t have socks underneath and then his pants. He’s got worn black boxer-briefs on, and I leave them on so he can remove them himself once I’m gone.

I try not to stare at his skin where it’s revealed, but it’s hard. I can already see that he’s at least sprained one ankle, because it’s twice the size of the other, and there’s bruising coming up everywhere.

Tobias moves to step into the tub, even though his hoodie is still on, and lets me brace him on my arm. He’s shaky, but he makes it. As soon as he’s standing in the water, he turns to look at me.

“I think I’m good. Thank you. I won’t be long.”

Part of me is terrified to leave, like he’s going to fall or drown or pass out or anything else. But I’m also hyper aware that his boundaries have probably been shredded beyond belief, and the last thing he needs is me—practically a stranger—pushing them.

More than I already have.

“Okay. I’m going to close the door, but don’t lock it, just in case you need help. I’ll be in the living room, so just shout if you need me. There are clothes here and a towel. Take your time.”

He nods, giving me a look of gratitude that would be hard to express in words. I slide out of the room, shutting the door behind me before I have the chance to second guess myself.

While I wait for him, time seems to slow down to a glacial pace. I’m spending so much energy telling myself to calm down and not be an overbearing asshole that I lose all sense of how much time is actually passing, because everything seems surreal to me right now.

Then I notice a slight shift in the tone of darkness streaming in through the windows. Not like dawn, but the first hint of it. The kind of thing you become attuned to when you spend more of your life awake at night than during the day.

I look at my watch then and realize I’m not being crazy. He really has been in there too long.

In a heartbeat, I’m over there and knocking on the door. I call out to ask if he’s okay a couple of times, but there’s no response. My heart feels like it’s wrapped in barbed wire, slowly tightening with every passing second, so as soon as I’m sure he’s not responding to me, I don’t hesitate to throw open the door.

“Aw, hell.”

The words are muttered under my breath while I lunge for Tobias and pull him higher out of the water. His face wasn’t in it, and he’s still breathing, but it looks like a close call. He’s so deeply asleep, I think ‘passed out’ would be a much more accurate term.

Tobias’s eyes flutter open once I shake him, although he looks disoriented and a little afraid.

“It’s okay. Tobias, wake up. It’s only me. You fell asleep in the water.”

I try to keep the frenzy that I’m feeling out of my voice, but I don’t know how successful I am.

The water is ice cold and more than a little pink. He’s bleeding from somewhere, I can say for sure, now. And it seems like it’sstill going. There’s more bruising than I saw before, including a huge, mottled one covering half his ribcage. I hate it. And now that his face is a little cleaner, I can see clearly that his lip is split open and already scabbing over.

He seems to almost choke on air as his consciousness settles back into his body. He’s shivering again, and I want to get him out of the water as soon as possible. Grabbing the towel I put out for him, I somehow manage to half drag him out of the water while wrapping it around him, so he’s not totally exposed. There’s another towel hanging on the rack, so I grab that as well, even though it’s not clean.

Who fucking cares? I throw it around his shoulders and then pick him up again like before, because the water seems to have drained what little fortitude he got back from resting before. It doesn’t take long to return him to the couch, then snag those clothes and swap the towels out for them, one by one, keeping his modesty more or less intact. There’s a soft knitted blanket on the back of the couch that I cover him with as well.

Once we’re both settled, this time with him lying on his back and me sitting on the other end of the couch with his legs draped gently across my lap, I don’t let him avoid the subject any longer.

“I get why you don’t want to go to a hospital, but you have to do something. You are hurt, Tobias. You could be bleeding internally. I’m not going to watch you die slowly on this couch and do nothing about it.”

His head is thrown to the side. I don’t like it when he won’t look at me directly, even though I’ve been the one to avoid eye contact most of the time we’ve known each other. As if he’d be able to sense how fixated I’ve always been with him.

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