Colin stood at the bedroom window looking out over the backyards of the houses behind the apartment building. Even as exhausted as he was, he couldn't seem to get to sleep. At first it was trying to find a comfortable position. On his back still wasn't an option without the pain-killers. And on his side meant curling up some, which pulled on the healing wounds. When he tried lying on his stomach, his thoughts seemed to immediately fly to the fact that he'd been face down through most of what had been done to him. Face down over the sofa, then later on lashed to the bed, while the man—
He started shaking, trying to push the memories away by watching two kids of about five or six playing in the yard of a pretty white house across the way, while their mother watched them from the stoop.
He recalled when he was that young and things were good. Okay, maybe not recalled, so much as remembered pictures in the photo album his family kept. And other pictures taken as he grew up, until he was in middle school, when suddenly they stopped. His folks loved him, he knew that, but apparently they hadn't wanted to keep a record of their waif-like son with the thick black hair surrounding his face and the Kohl lining his eyes.
Pressing his hands against the window frame, he leaned forward, trying to scan the alley several floors below. He could tell himself the man or his people would never find him here, but what his mind said and what his anxieties conceived were worlds apart.
Suddenly he whirled around, certain he'd heard something. His breath hissed out between his teeth as he searched the room. Then he sighed with relief when he realized it had just been the scrubs he tossed on the edge of the bed sliding off, onto the floor, as gravity took over.
He really needed sleep, he knew that. Maybe there was something in the bathroom that would help. A fast check of the medicine cabinet revealed a bottle of aspirin, toothpaste, and a wrapped toothbrush, nothing more.
Looking longingly at the shower stall, he wondered if he could figure out a way to take one without getting his back wet. Reaching in, he turned it on and adjusted it to a fine, soft mist. He slid off his briefs, gritting his teeth as the waistband slipped from his fingers, snapping against his ass hard enough to send a flare of pain spiraling upward. He knew in his head he was exaggerating it. After all, he could sit as long as he was careful and the seat was soft. It was the sudden slap of it… He took a deep breath, fighting to push the memories back where they belonged, deep in the hidden recesses of his mind.
He stepped into the shower, inching forward until the water flowed down his chest and legs, warming and soothing him. Putting his hands against the tiles, he bowed his head, letting the water soak his hair. If only he could sleep like this, he thought, closing his eyes.
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