7 Minutes ✧ Syndisparklez

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Tom and Jordan sat quietly across from Bambi and I, still processing what they had just heard.

~~A Definition~~
Shock
Cause (someone) to feel surprised and upset.

Lifting my gaze from the floor, I finally met their gaze. It's interesting how much character someone's eyes can hold; the stories they can tell.

Jordan's were filled with sadness and empathy, after experiencing the same torture on a higher level only a few months back. Behind his eyes were a world of hurt, the memories flooding to his head, replaying again and again like a broken record. He could remember it all: the pain, the rope-burned wrists, the feeling of the sweaty skin and matted sheets. The cursed words and awful noises ringing through the room.

Hearing my story must've brought him back. But he didn't move, didn't speak or tell anyone; but he didn't need to. I knew.

He just sat there, staring right through me. I was looking into his eyes, but they didn't connect. Our gaze had matched perfectly, and yet, it was like staring at a brick wall. At this point, I figured the best thing to do was stay silent.

Instead, I turned my gaze to Tom, who's response was much different.

His brows were furrowed, fire licked at the back of his pupils. It was as if you could see the rage build inside him. This is the second time he's had to hear this speech, and not be able to do anything about it.

He couldn't go back in time, he couldn't protect us.

He couldn't protect him.

Thi- That wasn't his fault; yet he still blames himself.

Meanwhile, Bambi's eyes shifted uncomfortably around the room, guilt obviously pained her heart. Yet again, none of this was her fault.

She awkwardly scratched the tattoo ink lining her bicep, her fingers grazing against my shoulder.

"Sorry," she choked, the first words spoken in the lifeless room.

Tom got up first, angrily storming away.

"I'm gonna' take a shower," he hissed, almost falling over his own feet as he exited the living room. His footsteps erupted through the house, as he hurried up the stairs.

Bambi was next.

"Call me if you need anything, hun," she whispered, placing a delicate kiss on my cheek. "Anything."

"Okay," I managed to respond. Her footsteps were much different, gently gliding across the room, before exiting the house.

Jordan and I were at a stand off, each so deep in our own worlds, we didn't attempt to acknowledge the other's existence.

What stayed completely still for a good minute or two, before flinching at multiple loud thuds from upstairs, followed by a hefty, bellowed scream.

Jordan got up quickly, leaping up the steps. I quickly followed, trailing closely behind. Jordan leading me through the vaguely familiar hallways of Alice's house.

He opened the bathroom door so fast, it collided against the pure white wall behind it. The next to go were the shower curtains, as Jordan quickly pushed them out of his way.

There, we found his boyfriend slumped against the back wall, the shower head still spitting out boiling water. Tom sobbed, carefully holding his bloodied knuckles with his healthy hand.

A few tiles were slightly bent out of their usual space, red droplets staining the grout.

Crimson stained water streamed down the drain, the scalding water leaving bright red marks where it lapped against his skin.

Still silent, Jordan joined him beneath the water's spray, ignoring the temperature and his heavy, soggy clothes. He wrapped his arm around his fragile boyfriend, resting his head on Tom's bare shoulder.

There wasn't much I could do.

I turned the water spout, cutting off the shower head's water supply. Then I grabbed a fluffy white towel, from a cabinet under the sink. Jordan lifted his lips into a faint smile, as a sort of "thank you," wrapping it around his boyfriend.

Then I left.

What else was I to do?