Page 5 of Only the Small Bones
“We go in once you’re ready. Not a moment sooner. And if you’re not comfortable with this arrangement anymore, just say the word. We’ll figure something else out.” What that something else would be I had no clue, but what he needed came first.
Taking an unsteady breath, Ryan hesitated with one foot over the threshold before physically forcing himself over it.
“Breathe,” I instructed when he leaned against the wall, wheezing. “It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Ryan’s gaze turned sharp on me. I replayed my words, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. I didn’t know the particulars, but something had already happened to him. Something tragic and unfair.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wondering if he knew my apology held weight, that it wasn’t just some platitude offered because it fit the moment. I was sorry for what happened to him. My sorrow ate away at my core.
I made a show of bolting the door and activating the alarm system. If the added security helped with the anxiety of being in a strange place, he didn’t show it. But just in case it made him feel trapped, I walked him through how to disarm it. He’d never be a prisoner again.
He struggled to keep his eyes open, so while I wanted to prove that nothing sinister lurked here, the full tour would have to wait. I showed him to one of the guest rooms.
The room was spacious but the decor sparse to minimize the high stress levels that came with chaos and clutter. The furnishings were done in earth tones. Unlike the white wallsthroughout the rest of the apartment, the walls in this room were painted gray—like the color of storm clouds on a rainy day.
Ryan smoothed a trembling hand over the wall, looking over every inch of it. Did he hate the color? Did it mean something to him? My mouth went dry as I waited for the answer. Noticing my gaze on him, he snatched his hand away, his expression turning to steel.
I closed the drapes of the floor to ceiling windows in case the view of the city overwhelmed him. The whole apartment was encased in glass with panoramic views of the city.
“You have your own bathroom through there.” I pointed toward the door adjacent from the four-poster bed. “It’s fully stocked. And you can find clothes that should fit you in here.” I headed for the walk-in closet.
A few minutes passed where I thought he wouldn’t come into the closet, but then his head poked in, his gaze traveling the carpeted space before he fully crept inside. His childlike hesitancy tugged at me.
Opening the top drawer of the closet island, I withdrew a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. This had been the first stop for others like him before transitioning to Safe Haven, so I made sure to keep a few items on hand. “We can order you some more things tomorrow.”
Ryan ignored me, drifting back into the bedroom with me not far behind. He pressed his fingers into the mattress, as though testing its softness, before tentatively sitting down then curling onto his side. He let out a long breath, his blinks slowing more and more with each one.
I wanted to help him out of his shoes, to insist he change into something more comfortable before tucking him under the blanket he lay on. I didn’t though. However thoughtful, those actions would have reversed any progress we’d made. I had toremember that space would be my best ally right now. I’d need to fight against my urge to hover.
“My room is down the hall,” I said from the doorway. His eyes opened, letting me know he’d heard me, but he kept them fixed straight ahead instead of focusing them on me. “I’ll leave my door open in case you need me.”
I waited until he fell asleep before venturing to my bathroom to shower the day off me. Afterward, I slipped into my own pair of sweats and a t-shirt then set my phone on the charger. I pulled the covers back, but I couldn’t get into bed, not before checking on Ryan one last time.
Taking my inspiration from him, I slowly poked my head in first, then entered fully with my heart in my throat. The pillows and blanket were scattered on the floor. My jacket had been discarded there too. The sheets were torn to shreds in certain places, and Ryan was nowhere in sight.
I rushed for the open closet door, coming to a halt once the other side of the bed came into view. What I saw made my knees waver.
Ryan was sleeping on the floor with two strips of bedding tied to his wrists like manacles. I noticed now that the ends were secured to one of the bedposts. He’d created chains and shackles for himself. He looked comfortable in a way that anyone would when doing something they were used to, even if they hated it. Like it was the one familiar thing in his new world.
I backed away, bile and horror rising inside of me. Once back in my room, I let the door close softly before slumping against it and sliding to the floor. My head and my heart ached, and my already fractured spirit splintered a bit more.
Anguish consumed me, and suddenly I resented the bed I’d been about to sleep in a few minutes ago. How dare I?
I got to my feet once the shaking subsided, cracking the bedroom door open before dragging myself over to the bed. Oneby one, I dumped my blanket and pillows onto the floor—then thought better of it. They were too soft. I needed to suffer like they had. Likehehad.
Laying down on the hardwood floor, I drew my knees up like Ryan had. I fell asleep vowing to help as many survivors as I could, but especially Ryan,because he was different.
“You say that about all of them.”Xavier’s voice filled in my head again.
I didn’t listen to it. I refused to. I’d stay the course, like always. Maybe this time I’d get it right. Maybe this time I’d earn the one thing I always wanted. Maybe helping Ryan would finally make me worthy of redemption.
William
Ryan slept through the following morning and afternoon while I cleaned in between hovering—something I said I wouldn’t do. How could I not? I checked more than once to make sure he was breathing. My own breathing leveling at each sign of life. A twitch of his limbs, a tug on his makeshift chains. Even the terror-stricken thrashing that left him trembling against the hard floor, as though something unseen had been tearing his insides apart.
It was hard not to untie him, not to set him free. But I knew the chains that truly bound him weren’t the ones he wore on the outside.
He hadn’t woken up once, not even to roll to his other side, or to eat or use the bathroom. I wondered if the latter was a sign of dehydration. He hadn’t allowed the doctors or nurses to examine him at the hospital. Was he healthy? ShouldIhave encouraged them to hold him for observation?
