One Night in a Dungeon (Savage Kinksters 2)

“Small?” Casey snickers. “What are you—about six-two?”

“Yeah, something like that. When they found me, I was undernourished and small though. I went a little nuts when I found out what real food was. I couldn’t get enough of it, and I ate a lot. Grew fast.”

“You had a lot to make up for.”

“I guess I did.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“I don’t know. A long time, I suppose. First they talked about getting me strong and healthy. Different people kept coming in to poke at me. They checked me all over—even my teeth. That’s how they decided how old I was, I guess. Mostly, they tried to get me to talk, but I...I just didn’t know how.

“My parents weren’t talkers. Mamaw would talk to me, but that was mostly her doing the talking. I understood what people were saying to me, or about me, really, but I had no idea how to respond. The lights were always so bright, and I had a hard time looking at people. Even when I knew they wanted me to say something, I couldn’t make any words come out. They kept sending people in to try to get through to me. I had a pretty limited vocabulary, and I didn’t know a lot of what they said. One lady—her name was Susan—she came the most. She brought me animal crackers. I got one every time I named the animal right.”

“She was a teacher?”

“A teacher, a social worker, and probably the first person who I felt comfortable enough with to talk to. She came to see me every day, and she made them turn the lights down and keep the blinds closed until I could get used to the light. She read to me. And...she gave me chocolate.”

I grin at the memory.

“Chocolate, huh?”

“I like chocolate,” I say with a shrug. “I’d never tasted anything like that before. It took a while, but eventually she used M&M’s to teach me letters and numbers.”

“You’d never had any education before, had you?”

“None. I couldn’t read or write. She was my only teacher for a long time. They had to get me ready to enter school before they could take me to a foster family. I learned a lot from her. She was patient. Never met anyone else like her.”

“How long was it before you could go to school?”

I shrug. Memories of Miss Susan handing me tiny circles of chocolate as I formed three-letter words with magnetic plastic letters danced around in my head.

“Time never has meant much to me,” I finally say. “It took a while for me to even figure out what day and night meant. I didn’t have a clear concept of time until I was a teenager.”

“And somehow you still managed to make it to college. Wow. I know I keep saying that, but...well, wow.”

“Fucked up, huh?”

“Yeah, Rocco. It’s totally fucked up. You had no control over any of that though.”

“I know. I never felt like any of it was my fault, but that’s why I just...I don’t do people well. I guess a lot of those skills are learned when you’re young, and I missed out on that time. The first time I was put in a room full of other kids, I panicked. I didn’t even know that many kids existed. I hid in a closet, and they had to call Miss Susan to get me out. I tried public school a couple of times, but I just couldn’t handle being around so many other kids. I ended up in a school for kids with all kinds of learning and behavior problems. They weren’t the best to help me learn to communicate, but at least having a tantrum and hiding in a closet didn’t get me kicked out of class.”

“And you never completely got over it.”

“I might not have had any education at that time, but I wasn’t stupid. I figured out pretty quickly that other kids didn’t grow up in a tunnel underground. They played in back yards in the sunshine, knew about sports, television, and how to tie their own shoes. I’d never even worn a pair of shoes. They made my feet feel funny, so I walked funny. All the kids looked at me—stared at me. I couldn’t take it. I still can’t take it because I know they’re all watching me.”

“I’m not sure they are, Roc.”

“I can see it, Casey. I can’t look people in the eye, but I still see how they look at me. They might not know why I’m fucked up, but they can tell that I’m broken. The nice ones talk to me like I’m... like I’m simple or brain-damaged or something. Most people just avoid me, and I don’t blame them.”

“Rocco—”

“That’s why I don’t understand...understand this.” I wave my hand in the air, gesturing between the two of us. “I have no idea why you would...want to...” I can’t even finish the sentence. “Women don’t look at me like they look at Ivan or Cree. They look at me out of pity. They don’t look at me in that way at all.”

“Stand up.” Casey’s voice has switched to that no-nonsense tone she usually uses when she grabs my chin.

I move immediately, jump to my feet, and she stands up in front of me.

“Let me tell you exactly what I see when I look at you.” Casey stalks her way around me, stopping again when she gets back to the front. “You have beautiful eyes.”