Hell Has A New Name

31

"Just fucking kill me Papi." Juice sat up in the bed, sweating, hands clutching his neck as he tried to catch his breath. It was a dream, all a dream. Tully wasn't here, he wasn't hurting him, raping him or in his sick way, protecting him. He was in his own new bed, by himself which was new, Amber had been sleeping next to him. He only had one bed, he was a gentleman after all.

He turned the light on to the bathroom, glaring at the brightness of the light. He tried to focus his eyes in the mirror, his face looked pale, his eyes were sad. The memories of the evening played in his mind, he couldn't believe what had happened.

Guilt crept over him, the dirty feeling he'd gotten when Tully touched him left a film over his skin. He'd been dreaming about the Nazi prick, he was reading to him, cum leaking out, his pants sticky from his own orgasm he hadn't wanted. He hadn't had those dreams in a while, they'd stopped at some point inside, when he stopped feeling. It was like the bastard was linked to his brain, knowing he tried to have sex with someone else he just invaded his head. His personal fun reminder that he belonged to the Nazi, no one else, not even himself.

He crashed to the floor, heaving into the toilet just in time as the contents of his stomach flooded the bowl. His head rested on the rim, he tried to regulate his breathing before he spun into a full blown panic. Hatred boiled inside himself, in this moment of disgust, and despair he wished the Nazi was there. He wanted him to pet his head, comfort him in some fucked up way no one else ever did. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he get the stupid bastard out of his head?

The tears started flowing freely now, he didn't even try to be quiet or calm. He hadn't cried it out in so long, it felt like the weight of his anxiety was a crushing him to death. Every tear that escaped was a boulder rolling off of his chest.

A soft knock on the door frame got his attention, he swiped a hand over his face quickly.

"You right Micheal?" Amber asked quietly. He stood up from the floor quickly, flushing his vomit. He felt wobbly so he stood back in front of the sink, resting his hands on the side.

"Yeah." He sniffled, splashing water on his face.
"Got sick to my stomach. Nightmares." He tried to sound casual.

"Yeah, I heard you screaming. Did you really want him to kill you?" She crossed the small space and sat down on the side of the tub.

He turned so he could lean against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah. Sometimes. It's fucked up."

"You also cried for him, Papi?" She said the word like it was a question. Unsure if she were allowed to say it or not, scared she was treading where she shouldn't. "To come save you. To help you. To kill them."

His face turned red, he knew he'd dreamed many times about the "tune up" and crying for Tully. He wasn't even sure if He that had actually happened or if it only happened in his dreams. "It's fucked up. I actually had pride in the fact that he'd kill them for hurting me." He shook his head, before sighing in defeat.

"Who hurt you so badly? There's so many things I don't know. I know you don't want to talk about them." Her voice sounded pained, laced with a deep concern.

He turned to leave the bathroom, looking back at her. "Want to sleep in the bed with me? I've gotten used to your body heat." Changing the subject, he didn't want to talk about it. She took the hint, nodding before she met him in the door way.

"Alright. That couch we got is uncomfortable."

Snuggled together in bed, more like lovers than friends Juice couldn't remember the last time he felt this comfortable with anyone. She was a nice person, too good for him, but selfishly he didn't want to let her go. She was snuggled warmly against him, his arm draped over her. There was a long moment of silence, he'd actually thought she'd fallen asleep. He let himself begin to drift a little.

She intertwined their fingers, kissing his knuckles. He hummed in response, it was casual, sweet. Something he hadn't been offered in a long time, he nestled his nose into her neck a little more.

"Micheal?" She whispered into the darkness.

"Hmmm?" He squeezed her a little hoping she'd go to sleep.

"Who's Chibs?" She hesitated when asking. Was he someone who'd hurt him?

He stiffened behind her, fighting the urge to pull away. "Why?" He sucked in a deep breath.

"You keep whispering that you're sorry to him."  I'm sorry Chibs. I never meant to hurt the club. As he'd been drifting he could see the hurt on the mans face, sitting across from him at the diner. The coldness he'd showed him, telling him to eat his gun was a cover for his pain. Juice knew that, he knew the Scot better than anyone, he'd hurt him. So many nights when he lay in his bunk, cradled by his rapist he'd pretend it was Chibs.

He'd never been sexually attracted to Chibs, this wasn't that. He loved Chibs, he was his only friend, he'd hurt the man so much. In the darkness of Stockton he could pretend Chibs was there. Holding him. Something that wouldn't happen on the outside but the Scot was never stingy nor shy with affections. It was easy to pretend he still had him, like he was waiting for him. Now he was potentially looking for him and Juice wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

They say time heals wounds but untreated ones just fester and turn into gangrene. A disease that needs to be cut out, gotten rid of in the harshest way possible. Chibs couldn't save him, because he wouldn't. No amount of apologies would fix that.

"He's just an old friend. I hurt him, I let him down" he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, cringing because the gesture reminded him of Tully. He'd stroke his arm and kiss his neck and shoulders. Effectively soothing him, even though he wanted to kill him. Wanted Tully to kill him more. He needed to see the bastard and soon enough he would.

"Can we sleep now Amber? I'm exhausted." She nodded, yawning.

He silently prayed he wouldn't dream about anyone, especially Tully. In the same prayer he hoped to hear from the asshole, or someone connected to him sooner than later.