Broken

Chapter One: Him

POV Dylan

     That's how I found him: unconscious, battered, and bloody; the bruises an obvious contrast on his pale skin. Blond hair was plastered to his forehead by rain and blood; his busted lips were blue and trembling slightly from the cold winter temperatures. I stood back wary of the stranger lying limp in the street, he was calling for help without making a sound. My heart broke for him and continued to break as his horrifying physical state became more clear.                                                   "He needs your help," I say repeatedly in my head as I approach the body, quietly kneeling at his side. I gently lean closer to him the breath is knocked from my lungs, his injuries are much worse than I expected; his chest is slashed open the deep wound trickling blood onto the asphalt.  I gently lean over his chest listening for a heartbeat, 'thump... thump...thump.'                         
He is alive but still insensate and vulnerable; he needs someone to be here for him. With all my strength and determination I pick him to his feet, an arm over my shoulder I carefully drag him the passenger side of my car. Once he settles in I adjust the seat, so that he gets a little bit of comfortability that he obviously been deprived. As I reach over to buckle his seat belt, his hand seizes my wrist as his head turned slowly toward me simultaneously. The air was so thick as I stared at him in utter disbelief that he'd awaken being in such horrid condition. His eyes remaining closed, but he mumbled almost inaudibly 'thank you,' before going completely limp again. His grip loosened, but linger on my arm before dropping into his lap; leaving me shocked that he had woken up in the shape he was in.  
Pulling myself together I shut the door, sprinting to my side. Before pulling away I look over making sure he was not going to shift or fall in an uncomfortable position. His clothes, ripped and ruined is clinging to his body from the rain; if I didn't get him in dry clothes soon he could fall victim to a cold or hypothermia.                               After struggling to get him into the house, I lug him to Miles' room to find warm clothes trying to prevent any sickness. I lay him on the bed on top of the covers, eventually finding sweatpants and a black tee shirt. Looking at the figure lying so still he could be mistaken as a corpse, but the slight movements of his chest put life on display. Carefully I remove what was left of a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that had at one time fit, but are now too short and stained badly. The horrors that were revealed brought tears to my eyes and sucked the air from my lung, his mangled chest and back with scars new and old covering a large portion of his skin; where scars and bruises had not touched was olive toned skin. His back had the worst damage of all, deep gashes that would need stitches and cleaned again indubitably; I gently wrap gauze from his left shoulder to his hips.               I pull the covers over his mutilated torso, my heart hurting for this poor guy he'd been abused or something for years it was sickening that someone who couldn't be older than 23. After settling him I go get a pillow and blanket for myself; the chair in the corner of the room would play as an uncomfortable bed for the night.Knowing my chances of getting any sleep were slim due to the horrible chair, and my constant worry that he might not wake up again. I sat on the edge of the bed looking him over; his eye swollen and purple, and his bottom lip busted badly. His hair was a dirty blond and relatively short, but it was strewn over the pillowcase and covering parts of his face. "Please wake up soon," I whisper pushing a few pieces of hair from his forehead.                .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .

     Hours of sitting, pacing, I lean my head on the edge of the bed beside him instantly overtaken by exhaustion.  I jolt awake during the night by thrashing and screaming," Let me go! Please stop!" he cried out kicking his legs wildly, "please, it wasn't my fault." I reach out catching his hand pulling it towards me It only lasted a few minutes, but that didn't  make it any less heartbreaking or terrifying. The night was not completely sleepless, but after the first episode, I was afraid of another, which never came only the occasional whimpers or his breathing picking up.