Page 75 of Healed Hearts

Fucking Motel Guy. What a goddamn asshole. Guess what, you sick fucker? I’m not fourteen anymore, begging for a place to sleep at night. I take off across the street, ignoring Roman yelling after me. I’m going to give this guy a piece of my mind. He had no right at all to touch me, to fuck me, to make me suck him off just so I could stay in his seedy-ass motel filled with roaches and bedbugs.

An icy chill races up my spine, and a dull sense of fear tingles in my stomach at the memory of him holding me down on thosebedbug-infested beds—his hot breath on my neck, the pain, the complete desolation I felt.

“Hey!” I shout. His eyes light up, a sickening smile spreading across his face.

“I thought that was you,” he says, and my stomach churns at the sound of his voice. “My, my. You grew up nice.”

I have to fight down a gag. I get across the street and stand toe-to-toe with him, ready to let him have it. Fuck this sick old fuck. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, but letting this guy do what he did to me ranks at the very top of the things I can’t stand.

I glare up at him, rage burning in my stomach. I know I only have minutes before Roman is going to chase me down and put a stop to this. I open my mouth, but before I can speak, his thumb touches my lip. “Now, now. Don’t look at me like that, little one. Be a good boy for me like you used to be. You liked being my good boy, didn’t you?”

I freeze, his words transporting me back in time. I’m fourteen, crying into a pillow, being torn in half, wishing I could have my mom back—wanting it to be over so I could curl up in a ball and sleep. He caresses my lower lip with his thumb, a predatory smile on his face.

“What the fuck did you say to him? Get your fucking hands off him!” I hear Roman yell, and then Motel Guy is being shoved away from me.

My lower lip is burning from his touch, and I want to puke. I want to run. I want to scrub his touch away, but I can’t move. Why did he touch me? Why did he have to touch me?Why did I let him?“Holden?” I hear Julian whisper, but I can’t even turn to him. My eyes are glued on Motel Guy, his eyes lit up like he’s enjoying this.

“Holden here was always my good boy, weren’t you?” he asks, and I feel Julian tense beside me.

No, he can’t tell Julian that.

He won’t love me anymore.

He’ll know what I am. What I did. It’s going to ruin everything.

I’m not his good boy.

I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.

I want to tell Julian he’s lying. That what he’s saying about me isn’t true, but I can’t make myself. Can’t make my mouth open.

“He always did anything I asked of him. No matter what. Didn’t you, my good boy?” he says, glancing toward Julian as he does.

My stomach lurches, but I still can’t move.

No. No. No. No.Stop. He has to stop.

Before I can even blink, Julian is striding toward the guy, grabbing him by his shirt, and dragging him in close. He’s yelling, but I can’t make out his words over the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. Motel Guy tries to wrestle Julian’s hands off his shirt, and I catch sight of his thumb.

His thumb that was just pressed to my lip.

His thumb that he used to rest on my tongue, testing my gag reflex.

I bring a hand up to my mouth, rubbing my palm over the spot, trying to get it to go away. Roman pulls my hand away.

No.

Why is he doing that? I have to get his touch off me.

I have to. I have to. I have to.

It’s gross.I’mgross.

I have to get it off. Doesn’t he understand?

“Holden. Look at me,” Roman urges, and I pull my eyes from the scene before me to lock eyes with him. “You’re okay, Hold. You’re alright.”

I’m not alright.I’m not alright at all.

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