Safe Hands

25. Bullies

There was darkness everywhere again, and it smelled like fungi and old shoes. Grayson ignored the stench, watching through the crack in the door and listening for any sound. It had been a while since he left, but it was about time he got back. Just then, he heard the door slamming in the distance multiple times and someone swearing loudly, complaining about the mechanics of the door. Grayson tensed, biting his lower lip. The footsteps kept coming, and he counted them. Usually, it took 21 footsteps to get to him. The closest door creaked open, and he could see two large, boot-covered feet. Slowly, the man took off his shirt, revealing tattoos and scars. He then drew nearer. Grayson flinched back, his heart pounding against his chest, begging to be set freed.

The noises ceased. He searched with his ears for a sound, his eyes darting in the darkness as if paired with his hearing. Then yank! The closet door flew open, revealing the wicked face of Charlie with a cigar between his lips. "Daddy is back," he grinned, reaching for a mortified Grayson, who let out a blood-curdling scream, trying desperately to get away.

"Back off! Stop! Stop! Please, stop!" Grayson cried out in his sleep, jerking violently.

Alex grabbed both his arms, shaking him firmly but gently. "It's just a dream, Grayson. Open your eyes, hey!"

Grayson snapped open his eyes, his gaze coming sharply on Alex, who stared at him in concern. His chest heaved with heavy breathing as he fought to recompose himself. Gently, Alex let go of his arms, allowing him to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead.

"Breathe, in, and out." Alex demonstrated, and Grayson copied gently.

As his breathing steadied, he brushed a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs backward enough to let Alex steal a glance at the huge scar that marred his forehead. "I'm fine," Grayson said in a cracked voice as he threw his feet down from the bed, placing his hands on both sides, still shaking slightly.

Alex rose, not wanting to push it. It was their usual ritual. He had to leave because staying would only make Grayson's state worse, as he hated sharing his feelings.

Grayson watched Alex step away, heading to the door. "Uncle Lex," he called softly, uncertain of what he needed to say or how the man would take it.

Alex turned around, waiting for the words the boy would utter. "Thank you for everything," Grayson said in a small voice. Alex could feel his heart melt, but he needed to keep it in, knowing how much the boy hated many affections. He needed to go slowly with Grayson, who seemed foreign to the warmth he had to offer.

"You're welcome," Alex said with a small smile. Then, with no further hesitation, Alex proceeded to ask, "Why were you so shocked the other day with the gifts? Don't you like them?"

Grayson looked up from the floor, meeting Alex's gaze. Then he shrugged gently. "I don't hate them. It's just that no one gifts me stuff, and I don't blame them. I can be unpredictable, but you don't seem to care."

Alex smiled. "You're not so scary, just a little hurt, so you don't want to be vulnerable. And those things take time to heal, and I'll be patient," he said.

Grayson sighed. "Good night," he muttered as he lay back on his side.

"Sleep tight, buddy," Alex mouthed before switching off the light and leaving.

***********

"I told you I don't know where it is!" Julian boomed from upstairs.

"You had it last night!" Russell growled.

"No, I didn't. I gave it to you after dinner!"

"That's a lie," Russell retorted.

"I'm not a liar!" Julian boomed, his face red with frustration.