Some Secrets Are Better Off Hidden

Chapter 9: How Was He Supose To Know He Couldn't Cook?

Tom dried his hair, as the silence weighed on his shoulders. He avoided looking at the mirror as he passed the towel through his hair more times than he needed to. He was probably bone dry by now. But he didn't care, he just liked the feeling of the cloth rubbing against his skelp. Kept him grounded.

He kept his head lowered while he reached for his clothes, knocking down the cup of toothbrushes on accident. He huffed as annoyance boiled in his chest. He reached down and picked up the cup.

Tom slowly put on his clothes while trying to rinse the toothbrushes at the same time. He placed the cup back down beside the sink, using more force than he needed to. He passed his hand through his hair a few times, liking the way his hand could now easily run through. Ignoring the silence was getting harder by the second. He wanted to run, wanted to scream, wanted to break the walls to hear the ruckus outside. Tom wanted to break the silence so badly. He hated how quiet it was in the room because it didn't sound quiet. Sounded too loud. Felt too loud. Too loud.

The shower had calmed Tom so much. He could still feel the little pitter-patters of water on his skin. Hear the rumble of the drain when the droplets fell back down. He had listened to the low hum of the showerhead as it cried for him. All of those were so calming. So calming.

But now it was all gone. Tom's hand had jerked towards the shower more times than he could count. But he never walked towards it. He kept himself still. Stay still.

Tom took in a shaky breath as he tugged at his hair. It was like a part of him was screaming in his ear. 'Look at yourself! Look at yourself!'. But at the same time, he was scared. Scared of what? Himself? He didn't know. Maybe it was the fear of looking up and seeing nothing. Just the bathroom behind him. Or maybe he was afraid of seeing someone else. A stranger.

Tom gulped before he lifted his head slowly. The real challenge was opening his eyes. It took a lot of effort, but in the end, he managed to do it.

He stared squinting then wide-eyed at the mirror because what he saw was not himself. The person in front of him had a split lip with bruises littering their upper body. Their eyes had formed into a soft purple. While their nose looked crooked. They had crusty blood stuck at the entrance of their nose. The bruises seemed especially bad on the chest.

Everything that had happened just an hour ago suddenly flashed before him. All the screams and tears. The pain as he tussled with Tord and begged for him to stop. The absolute dread and hopelessness washed over him in waves when he realized Tord had no intentions of stopping. He remembered feeling so angry. Tord had started this. Tord wanted this to happen. He's the one who pushed Tom against the wall, he's the one that took things too far.

But that stupid thought still lingered at the back of his mind! Screaming: 'It was all your fault, Tom!' 'You're the one who provoked him!' 'You know you deserved that beating!'

"BUT I KNOW I DIDN'T!" He found himself screaming. Fuck. Fuck. "FUCK!.."

...Silence...

...You know... Tom had thought he would die at some point. And a part of him had accepted it. Accepted his defeat and waved the white flag while chanting: 'I've lost! And these will be my final breaths!' When he looked into those red ruby eyes all he saw were burning hot flames. And fury laid right in the middle of the scorching fire. There was no mercy in them. And the thought that this man above him wouldn't care if he died was terrifying. Because whatever happened next wasn't up to Tom. He wasn't in a place to speak up. He wasn't in a place to fight back.

When Tord started it seemed he felt no reason to stop. But what was his reason to start?.. What was his reason to stop?..

Tom hiccuped as he slid down the bathroom sink. His throat closed in on itself as he tried to hold in a sob.