A Special Kind of Perfect

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

"Sorry about last night, I should have offered you an explanation, but the situation required my whole, immediate attention, and I lost it for the moment. I deeply apologize if my words or the voice I used offended you." Alasdair fell silent, staring at his hands resting in his lap.

"You don't have to explain anything to me. What I think it's not important. You did what you thought was best in that situation, and that's it. Can we please talk about something else or not talk at all? I..." Peyton's voice broke as they fought back the tears threatening to spill.

"I don't know if I ever told you, but some evenings, Leon works as a bouncer at a posh nightclub downtown. The job is extremely well paid and his co-workers are nice, except this asshole Gary, who likes to beat the crap out of homeless folks who try to find a shelter in the back of the club. Last night, he crossed the line with this poor, skinny kid, who was barely alive when Leon brought him home." Alasdair paused, giving his friend time to assimilate his words.

"Oh, no! Poor, poor soul! How bad are they hurt? And why didn't Leon take them to a hospital, to have their wounds treated? Also, the scum who did that has to be reported to the police." Although low, Peyton's voice had a fire and a passion in it the redhead hadn't heard until that moment.

"The kid's name is Ezra, and I think he is two, maybe three years older than us. However, he's in a very bad shape, body covered in scars and bruises of all sizes and shapes. Some of them are inflicted by Gary's boots and fists, but others are older, I'd say he got them in the last week. Leon wanted to take Ezra to the hospital, but he begged him not to. You should have seen his eyes when I undressed him...the poor guy had been through hell."

Peyton looked into Alasdair's emerald-green eyes and saw the mix of compassion and pain in them. "Please excuse my childish, selfish behaviour from earlier. I thought you'd abandoned me when in fact you were busy helping this kid." Lowering their head, Peyton paused for a moment, then turned to Alasdair, frowning. "What's going to happen to him once the wounds are healed?"

"I don't know. Leon said something about Ezra begging Gary to get in touch with his mother, without mentioning a name, address or phone number. We'll talk to him when he gets better, but for now, he's going to stay with us. There's plenty of room in the house, and the fridge and pantry are well stocked."

The bus pulled over in front of the school, and the two friends put an end to their conversation, the classes demanding their undivided attention. However, Peyton couldn't stop thinking about the boy Leon rescued and took under his wing. Just like had happened with Alasdair, they had the feeling Ezra's and their destinies were somehow connected, but they didn't know how.

Meanwhile, the subject of Peyton's thoughts woke up and nearly jumped off the bed, terrified to see the threadbare clothes he'd worn the day before were replaced with a pair of comfy, warm pajamas. At first, the boy couldn't remember what happened, and he thought of those horrible people who used his body for their sick, perverted pleasures.

Then the memories of the evening before slowly came back, starting with that man with the face contorted by hate and anger, who mercilessly hit him in the chest, stomach and ribs with his heavy boots, deaf to his desperate pleas. After a while, another man came, wrapping Ezra in a warm blanket and carrying him to a car parked nearby.

Closing his big, sapphire-blue eyes, the teen remembered the safety and protectiveness radiating from every fiber of his rescuer's body, his gentle gaze and low, almost sweet voice, that had an almost instant calming effect on his frail, tensed nerves. The man took Ezra to his home, where a red-haired boy with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen checked on his wounds and helped him get into the bathroom and step into the tub filled with warm water.