How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 53: A Walk Down Memory Lane

A/N- WARNING- I don't usually do this, but I don't know how old y'all are. The following chapter contains SERIOUS (and I mean VERY serious) descriptions of abuse. So,  read at your own risk:)

"How old were you when it started?" I asked tentatively.

Adrian's gaze dropped and he fell into his thoughts; his body was tense, racked by fear and it was only when I reached for his hand, rubbing soothing circles into the back of it that he relaxed just a notch.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally confessed, "Five or six."

My breath stuttered, my heart sinking into my shoes at his words. No. God no. A desperate voice in my head was crying out in horror but I forced it into silence, gritting my teeth as I struggled to rein in my emotions.

I squeezed his hand again and his gaze drifted up to meet mine.

"I loved my father once, Charley, perhaps as much as you love your own. We were close. He was good to me. Loved me." His voice cracked, "The whole damn town loved him too. He went to church every Sunday, donated to charity when he could. He knew everybody and everybody knew him. He was just and good in every way. And I trusted him with my life."

Adrian swallowed harshly, "Then one day... I was in the shower. When I heard the door open."

My heart squeezed and fear engulfed me in a split second. Part of me was too afraid to hear the rest of it, couldn't bear to hear it and screamed at me to cover my ears as my heart pounded erratically in my chest.

I only held Adrian's hand tighter as he struggled for a moment, warring with himself before he continued. His voice trembled as he did so, "He told me he was there to help me clean myself. I was little. I didn't think there was anything more to it. I let him."

A shudder rolled through Adrian and I swallowed thickly, "He didn't... do anything to me that first time. And I didn't know anything, about anything to know there was anything strange to it. But," Adrian's hands were trembling, "I remember wondering why he was taking so long, cleaning me."

My heart ached at the words.

"It kept happening more often after that... except the showers seemed to be getting longer and he, more pleased. I didn't like it," he stuttered on a breath, "I hated it... when he touched me; hated that he took his time with it. I didn't know why I didn't like it, only that it made me embarrassed. But when I told him that, he would say I was being silly, and make me promise I would never tell my mother." Adrian swallowed, and I watched as his eyes clouded over with sadness, "He said she'd be disappointed if she found out I couldn't even bathe myself yet."

Adrian's gaze flickered up and he looked embarrassed.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" he sounded drained and I hated that his eyes burned with shame. My heart clenched at the sight. I forced the fear and uncertainty to the depths of my consciousness and nodded slowly. It made his eyes well with tears.

"It wasn't until months later, on a night that my mother wasn't home, that he called me to his room," Adrian shivered helplessly mid-sentence and his voice cracked, "He told me, that he wanted my help with something. And he said that... he was going to teach me how to help him. And then he... took off his pants. And made me touch him."

Tears fell from Adrian's eyes as the horrifying memory replayed in his mind. His face scrunched, filling with grief and hurt at the betrayal. My own brain was swimming, my thoughts disoriented, his words too harsh and real and horrific to process. I wanted so desperately to reach out and hold him, but the lost look in his eyes told me it would most probably scare him instead.