Fear

25 • Unexpected Guests

I woke up with Tyler's arms wrapped around me. The warmth of his body against mine was both reassuring and unsettling. As I stirred, he awoke as well, his grip loosening.

When he realised he was holding me, he quickly got up and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. I could see the conflict in his eyes, a battle between his desire to be close and his instinct to maintain distance.

"Ty, it's nearly one o'clock," I chuckled, glancing at the bedside clock.

"Oh! I guess it's time for dinner then. Get dressed and meet me there," he said with a small smile. He left the room, leaving me to my thoughts.

I got dressed, choosing a simple yet elegant dress and made my way to the dining room, finding Tyler standing at the head of the long table, smiling. He seemed to be in a good mood, which was very unlike him. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

We started a small conversation about something trivial, and I found myself watching his expressions, trying to gauge his feelings. But our conversation was cut short by a knock at the door.

As it opened, Tom stumbled into the room, almost falling to the floor and looking scared over his shoulder at Dylan, who had a nasty smirk on his face. The sight of Dylan sent a chill down my spine.

I shot an annoyed expression at Tyler, who just shrugged in response. It was infuriating how he could remain so detached, but the look on his face was like telling me he couldn't do anything about it.

As they walked into the room, Tyler said good afternoon and invited them to sit with us. I looked up at Tom and tried to tell him to sit next to me, hoping to offer him some comfort, but Dylan dragged him away by his arm, forcing him to sit beside him. The look on Tom's face was one of terror.

The waitresses came in with the food, placing dishes in front of us. Their timid demeanours only added to the tension. They served us quickly, avoiding eye contact, and the rest of the meal was tense and silent, broken only by the soft clinking of cutlery. Dylan's presence loomed over the table like a dark cloud.

I watched Tom throughout the meal. He looked utterly defeated, his eyes downcast. My heart ached for him, and I felt furious about the way Dylan treated him. I couldn't stay silent any longer.

"Dylan, why don't you let Tom choose where he wants to sit?" I suggested, trying to keep my voice calm.

Dylan's eyes snapped to mine, a dangerous glint in them. "Tom knows his place," he said coldly. "Don't you, Tom?"

Tom nodded meekly, not daring to look up. My anger flared, but I bit my tongue, knowing it would only make things worse for Tom if I pushed too hard.

Tyler cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Let's enjoy the meal," he said, his tone neutral. It was a command, not a suggestion, and everyone fell silent again.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence.

Towards the end, Tom quietly asked to be excused to go to the toilet. His voice trembled, and I could see the desperation in his eyes. Seeing an opportunity, I stood up at the same time. I made eye contact with Tyler, who glared at me but didn't protest.
Dylan's glare was intense, but I ignored him and followed Tom into the corridor.

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As soon as we were out of sight, I grabbed Tom's arm gently, turning him to face me.

"Tom, talk to me. What's the real reason you came out here?" I asked, my voice calm but urgent. He avoided eye contact. "To go to the toilet," he mumbled.

"Don't lie to me, Tom. I just want to help you," I said, trying to keep my voice gentle.

He stared at the floor, but when he looked up, I saw the true extent of Dylan's abuse on his face. A large bruise covered his right cheek, and his eyes were dark and hollow from lack of sleep. A large gash stretched from his eyebrow to his jaw on the left side of his face. It looked fresh and painful. The sight of his injuries made my stomach churn with anger and sadness.

"I just needed some air," he whispered, glancing towards the door, clearly terrified that Dylan might appear at any moment. The fear in his eyes was intense, and it physically hurt me to see him so broken.

"I can help you," I said, leaning in closer, "Tyler is letting me sleep in his room. He's... fallen for me, which means I have more freedom to walk around the facility, so I can look for an escape route." I lowered my voice as I spoke, careful not to raise my voice too high in case of eavesdroppers.

Tom stared at me, his eyes narrow as he assessed what I'd just said. He leaned back against the wall and contemplated it for a few moments, then shook his head.
"I don't know... I've tried to escape many times since I got here, and every time he brings me back and punishes me worse. If I try it again, he might kill me."

"No. This time he won't get the chance. I'll make sure you escape," I promised, and I meant it. I had to believe that we could find a way out, for both our sakes.

Then, in my peripheral vision, I noticed the dining room door slightly ajar. Someone was watching and I prayed it wasn't Dylan. My heart rate quickened, and in a rash decision, I grabbed Tom's arm. I needed to end the conversation quickly.

"Kiss me," I whispered urgently, my eyes wide.

"What?! No. Are you crazy?" he said, trying to pull away.

"Just do it, they're watching," I insisted, seeing the door open further. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm.

Tom tried to push me away, but I kept him in place as I leaned in and kissed him. It was awkward and forced, but I needed to create a distraction. My mind was racing, trying to anticipate what would happen next.

Not a moment later, I was violently shoved to the ground, and Dylan's face appeared above me, furious and manic. His hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing the air out of me.

"Get your fucking filthy hands off him, you bitch! How dare you fucking touch him!" he screamed, his eyes wild with rage.
"I've fucking told you, he's mine! He's mine!" Dylan went in a frenzy fuelled by blind rage.

I struggled for breath, my vision blurring. Just before I could lose consciousness, Dylan was pushed off me, and Tyler's face appeared as he fought him, unaware of what had just happened between Tom and me. The sight of him fighting Dylan was surreal, and I struggled to process what was happening.

The rest was a blur as I struggled to catch my breath. I saw Tom run down the corridor and lock himself in the toilet, the sound of the door slamming echoing in the distance.

The chaos around me faded as I lay on the floor, gasping for air, trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. But I knew one thing - I had to find a way to protect Tom, to get him out of this nightmare.
I had to save him from Dylan.

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