Page 29 of Only the Small Bones
His shoulders twitched a few times, as though he wanted to turn around, but couldn’t fight past self-preservation instinct. I somehow knew the worst was yet to come.
When he did turn, I bit my cheek to stop a gasp from escaping. The skin along his spine looked gnarled and melted, like someone had taken a blow torch to it. My breath fanned across his flesh as I leaned in. I had no idea what my intentions were, but I pulled back when he arched away from me.
Ryan hurried to slip his shirt back on before facing me. He searched my face with suspicion. Did he think I’d pity him?
Every bone in my body felt brittle. I ached for him. I wanted to trade places with him. But I’d never pity him.
I’d shown him my wounds, and he’d found the courage to share his in return. It made me feel less alone. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me, and I did my best not to appear broken by it.
“Can I hug you?” I questioned whether my intent was to console him, or to have him comfort me. Whether I wanted to soothe the little boy in me, or the one within him.
He shook his head, and I sucked in an audible breath.
“Do it again,” I breathed, and he shook his head again. I studied the movement, committing it to memory. The way his hair moved, the way his brow scrunched like my requestconfused him. “It feels like you’re talking to me,” I explained. It was the smallest gesture but it meant something to me. “Why won’t you talk to me?” I could hardly keep my eyes open now. “I just want you to talk to me. Or yell at me. I don’t care.” Or maybe I did care, because there was a certain level of safety in his silence. Who knew what he’d say if he put words to his anger.
Ryan swallowed, looking sadder than I’d ever seen him before. I asked a question knowing if he answered it I’d be shattered and unable to hide it. I had to know, though. I had to know how deep his well of pain went. Had to know the moment he felt broken by it.
“How…” I licked my lips and tried again. “H-how old were you when you stopped speaking?”
He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, his leg bouncing. Ryan closed his eyes for a second, then began to count using his fingers, over and over again. Once he was sure he had the number correct, he held up both hands. One had five fingers lifted, the other just one.Six.I was not okay.
The room began to spin, and I fisted the blanket to keep from falling onto the floor. I blinked past the moisture building in my eyes. Ryan watched me with wide-eyed concern. The fact he remembered that far back broke my heart. I wanted to ask what caused it, wanted to know the moment it happened, but I was terrified of making him relive whatever it was. Terrified of making him remember, if he’d forgotten. I would’ve given anything to forget my pain, even a little bit of it. “I’m s-so sorry.”
He pointed to the head of the bed, then more urgently when I continued to sit there.
I snapped out of it, hauling myself closer to the headboard before curling onto my side. He motioned for me to roll over. I did so on auto-pilot, too far gone to care why. His harsh breathing filled the room, and then he pushed a pillow up against my back. Before I could figure out what was going on, Ifelt the pressure of his body against it. We laid back-to-back with the pillow between us, keeping his body from touching mine. I didn’t know where the sound of his breaths began and mine ended, but after the surprise wore off, gratitude followed.
I fell asleep with my fist lodged between my teeth, praying it stayed there throughout the night, that no secrets slipped free.
I woke up later that morning to find the space empty of him. A sketch of himself blindfolded on what appeared to be the deck of a ship rested on the pillow. I assumed it was the ship he and the others were brought here on. Below it he’d written:I didn’t see anything.
I blew out a breath. Whether it was true or not, he’d made it clear he had nothing to say about it. I’d let Davidson know.
Ryan didn’t come out of his room, and I didn’t bother him. We went through a lot last night. I respected his need for solitude. I heard his television going, heard the same scenes playing over and over as if he were rewinding his favorite parts, so I knew he was okay. Or alive, at least.
I’d skipped breakfast, choosing to get some cleaning and laundry done instead. Truth was I didn’t have an appetite, and forcing myself to eat lunch turned out to be an epic fail. Opening the trash can to dump the sandwich I’d ordered, I almost dropped the whole thing on the floor. I pushed harder on the pedal, watching the lid open wider. Strips of cotton rested on top of trash. Strips of a bedsheet to be exact.
I set my plate and fork on the counter behind me, then reached in to pick up Ryan’s chains.
I whispered a thank you toward the ceiling. If God was up there, I hoped he heard me. Alone and feeling safe to smile, I did so. A small thing that eventually took over my whole face.
That night I woke up to a pillow against my back again, and the weight of Ryan leaning against it. His first night without his chains. It couldn’t have been easy for him.
His scent surrounded me, making it hard to go back to sleep. I stayed up for way longer than I should have just breathing it in. Before drifting off again, I noticed my phone on my nightstand. It had been next to me on the bed. He’d rested it there before claiming his spot.Hisspot. How quickly I began to think of it as that.
By the fourth night he’d backed the length of one leg against mine. By the fifth, the pillow was gone.
William
With Ryan’s approval, Dr. Baptiste came by to conduct our physical exams. He, and one of his nurses, transformed the kitchen into a work area while waiting for Ryan to come out of his room. I figured letting him go first would be best. We could get it over with before he had a change of heart.
“Give me a second.” I made my way to Ryan’s bedroom, knocking a few times but he didn’t answer. Testing the knob and finding it unlocked, I cracked it open. The overcast skies darkened the gray room.
“Ryan?” It felt wrong to enter without his consent. The bathroom door stood ajar, its light trickling into the room. I called his name a little louder before announcing, “I’m coming in.”
I called his name through the partial opening, spotting him standing in the shower with the water off, fully dressed. His panicked breaths filtered through the door.
Pushing inside the bathroom, I opened the shower door and stepped in front of him, careful to leave enough space between us. He wore a thick sweater with what looked like at least three layers of shirts beneath, and his lower half was twice its normal size. He had to have on a whole pack of socks as well. He’d layered up to protect his skin from their touch, and I couldn’t tell if the sweat on his brow was from the panic attack or the amount of fabric he wore.
