God, when did I become such a pessimist?
I sighed and stood. It wasn't particularly late, but I was exhausted. I’d been sleeping all day after Xavier had gotten me home. Uncle Curtis had brought me food a few times, but my appetite just hadn't been there, so I'd only picked at it.
I stood up and grabbed the clothes Xavier had lent me and took them to the bathroom we shared. The door on my side was closed, so I quietly knocked to make sure he wasn't in there. There was no response, so I opened the door. I stepped into the bathroom and set the clothes on the countertop. The door on Xavier's side of the bathroom was slightly ajar and I could see a little bit of light coming through the opening.
Since all I needed to do was brush my teeth, I left the door as it was and quickly got cleaned up and ready for bed. I was wearing another pair of sweats and a ratty T-shirt. After washing my hands, I turned to leave the bathroom when I suddenly heard what sounded like a harsh whimper. I froze and listened again. Several seconds passed before I heard it again. It was obvious where the sound was coming from and I told myself repeatedly to leave it alone. But when the whimpers quickly turned into moans, I couldn't help myself. I turned and went to Xavier's side of the bathroom and listened at the door.
"No, please, I just want to go home."
Xavier's pleas were desperate and his voice sounded thick with tears.
It's none of your business.
The thought looped over and over in my mind, but I couldn’t make my feet move. I needed to just go back to my room and pretend I hadn't heard him. So I did just that. And got as far as my own door when I heard his begging again. That was the only way I could classify it. Begging.
Whatever was happening to him was making him so desperate, so helpless, that I couldn't ignore it. Even if all I could do was wake him up, just silencing those terrible sounds that were spilling from his throat and those horrible words would be enough. I’d gently shake him awake, make up an excuse about his clothes, and leave it at that. I wouldn't even tell him that I’d heard him.
With that plan in mind, I made my way into Xavier's bedroom with his clothes. The light on the nightstand was on, but it was on its lowest setting. I wondered if he’d forgotten to turn it off or if he preferred to sleep with it on. As I neared him, I noticed that the door to his bedroom from the hallway was wide open. His balcony doors were also open, leaving his room much chillier than mine.
I put his clothes on the bed and went around to his side. I took in the sight of the man who'd caused my family so much grief. The bedding was wrapped around his waist. He wasn't wearing a shirt and I could see sweat covering his chest and forehead. I wondered if maybe he wasn't whimpering and talking in his sleep because of a nightmare, but rather because he’d taken ill. Perhaps because he’d been out in the cold, wet weather looking for me for so long.
I reached down to put my hand on his forehead, but the second my skin came into contact with his, something switched and, all of a sudden, I was thrown to the ground and his heavy weight came crashing down on top of me.
"Don't fucking touch me, you sick fuck! I'll take your fucking head off if you ever try to lay a hand on me again, do you hear me?"
Xavier slammed my head back against the floor. The area rug helped dull the blow a bit, but pain exploded in my head just the same.
"I'm sorry, Xavier," I croaked. One of Xavier's hands was wrapped around my throat, much like it had been earlier in the week. His other hand was threaded in my hair, gripping me hard. It hurt so bad, I could feel tears stinging the backs of my eyes. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," I ground out. His hand on my throat was threatening to cut off my oxygen, but I was still able to pull in enough wisps of air to breathe.
"Yeah, sure, you twisted bastard. All you guys want to make sure the new kid in Cellblock C is okay."
It took me several precious seconds to understand his words.
Cellblock.
Jesus, he was imagining he was still in prison. He wasn't lashing out at me but at someone he thought was attacking him in prison.
"Xavier, sweetheart, open your eyes," I said as gently as I could, despite the pressure he was putting on my airway. I had no clue where the term of endearment came from, but I actually saw him flinch just a little when I said it. "It's me, Brooks. You're safe, Xavier. You're at Black Hills Ranch with me and Uncle Curtis."