Author's Preface
T
he dreams weren’t real.
The dreams weren’t real.
Kellen’s fist struck the hanging bag in front of him with enough force to fracture his knuckles, were it not for the boxing wraps on both hands.
And still, he felt the nerve-numbing pain of the impact. With no hesitation, he hit the bag again. Fast, rhythmic. The Everlast logo across the black vinyl blurred out completely in Kellen’s vision until all he saw was the dark silhouette of the heavy structure. Heavy. Heavy like the darkness that had hung over Kellen’s head his entire life.
Sometimes less, sometimes more. Always there.
“Do you believe in this God-given ability your father said you have?” The therapist’s voice echoed through Kellen’s head like he were hearing it over his shoulder. “Then if you don’t believe you were given an ability by God, the dreams aren’t real.”
They weren’t real.
“Let’s say for the sake of argument that you are dreaming about real people you’ve never met. Then it’s still an entirely separate thing to also say that the people you are dreaming about are all people who are about to die. Nothing you have experienced while awake suggests that you’re dreaming about real people, or that these real people are about to die. Everything you fear to be true about these dreams are things your father told you about them. Why, logically, would your father know more about your dreams than you?”
They weren’t real.
“They’re just dreams. Many people have unusual dreams. Some people have lucid dreams. Others experience the phenomenon of recurring dreams. I believe your dreams are a manifestation of childhood trauma. Your father convinced you as a child that your age-appropriate night terrors were visions of reality, and that it was your moral obligation to have these dreams. Your subconscious responded by conjuring more of these dreams, to try to meet your father’s expectations. To please him, to soothe your misguided conscience. Does that make sense?”
June.
Kellen’s fist missed the center of the bag, and the heavy vinyl slammed his wrist. His hands caught the bag on its return swing, and he held it stationary, listening to the chains rattle above. Gradually, the music in the gym came back in through his ears. He glanced at the pitch-black windows staring blindly at him from the left.
If the dreams weren’t real, how had he known that little girl’s name?
If his father was wrong, why had he felt so depraved, guilty, self-disgusted about the physical reaction he had to a person who was objectively attractive and behaving sexually toward him?
“Ye have heard that it was said, ‘Thou shall not commit adultery.’ But I tell ye that anyone who looketh upon a woman lustfully hath already committed adultery with her.”
“Thou shalt not lie with a male as with a woman; to do so is an abomination.”
Kellen’s fist struck the bag. It recoiled, and he struck it again.
“If there is impurity in your heart, cast it out. If there is impurity in your thoughts, cast it out. If there is one among you who is impure, cast him out.”
That dark room.
“Do you think your low sex drive could be hormonal?” Lila’s voice.
“Fuck,” Kellen breathed. A bead of sweat tracked down the edge of his jawline. He hit the bag on its return swing.
“I’m always the one initiating. I can’t turn you on.”
“You’re gay, Kellen.”
And the way Alexei had pulled a response from Kellen’s body as easily as flipping a switch.
“Hey, there.”
For a split second, Kellen’s entire body went weak with adrenaline at the sound of a real voice from somewhere nearby. Reflexively, he caught the punching bag in his hands, then turned to look in the direction of the voice.
A man stood there—tall, white-Caucasian, light brown hair. He wore a muscle shirt and neon green sweatbands on his wrists. There was a set of workout earphones resting around his neck, and his hands were poised on his hips as he stared back at Kellen. “Hey…” he said, his voice brightening with the smile that suddenly lit his face. His hand lifted in a flourishing gesture. “Hey, I know you! We met on the sidewalk the other day! You had your sweet pup with you!”
Kellen blinked. Yes, he did remember. Vaguely.
“Sorry, did I offend you that day?” He took on an apologetic pose that Kellen dimly thought looked rather girly for such a tall, muscular man. “You walked away super fast, and I wasn’t sure if it was something I said…”
Why the hell is he talking to me right now? Kellen thought. He swept a wrapped fist under his chin. “You didn’t offend me.” And he turned deliberately back to the bag in front of him.
“Really? Okay, well, I just wanted to be sure. By the way, do you come here routinely? I’ve actually never run into you before, and I pretty much know all the 4 -AMers.”
Kellen hit the bag and didn’t respond.
“New membership? Well, we’re all super friendly here. This may sound cliché, but we’re pretty much a community. Actually, I walked over here because I noticed you didn’t have headphones. It’s super sucky when I forget to bring mine, so I thought I’d walk over and offer you my backup set.”
Kellen’s hand stopped flat against the bag again. He exhaled. “No. Thank you.”
“Really? The music they play in here doesn’t go nearly hard enough for the kind of workout you’re doing.”
Kellen gave the stranger a deadpan stare.
“Jeez, okay.” The man chuckled, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. “You’re the first person I’ve ever seen hit the bags with no music. The sound of those creaky chains would make me crazy. Okay, enjoy your workout. My name’s Benjamin, by the way. Friends call me Benny.” He waited another four seconds like he expected Kellen to share his name also. But when he got no response, he simply smiled and walked away.
The fuck? Kellen heard in his head. He turned back to the bag.
Benjamin was doing reps on a weight bench when Kellen walked past to get to the locker room. He seemed absorbed in what he was doing and didn’t notice Kellen pass.
Someone was using a shower around the corner from the row where Kellen’s assigned locker was. He punched a four-digit code into the locker door, then waited five seconds for it to pop open.
Voices came from the direction of the entrance. Two people. Benjamin. One of the voices was definitely Benjamin’s. Kellen stopped unwrapping his hands. His movements abruptly quickened as he took his phone, keys, and a towel out of the locker. He closed the locker door and turned toward the row walkway—stopped.
Something changed.
The lights, at first.
Then the temperature.
A feeling like he was losing his balance swept Kellen’s body. And then he was no longer standing in a locker room.
There was a hotel hallway. Deep carpet, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The Joanna Capris, maybe. Or somewhere with a similar level of luxury accommodation. Music played through the air. Slow, dispersed piano notes.
Two people were walking down the hallway, the smaller figure holding the larger one’s arm. Alexei and June.
They stopped in front of a door.
“ 232 -A,” June said in a small voice.
“Thank you, June,” Alexei responded quietly. He followed her arm and touched her shoulder. “Go back to the car and head to the apartment, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded, young eyes lifted to his blindfolded face. “Are you coming back tonight?”
“No, I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Okay.” There was a pause. Then, with urgency, “Can I sleep in the hammock?”
He smiled. “Yeah, you can sleep in the hammock.”
June started bouncing. “Okay! And you’ll be back in the morning?”
Alexei’s smile widened. But he caught her shoulder and stilled her. “Maybe not when you wake up, but I’ll be back some time in the morning, okay?”
“Okay!”
“Go.” He rotated her shoulders to face the way they had come. “Go, go. Get out of here.”
She started skipping down the hallway, stopped, glanced behind her, then continued at a more dignified pace.
He waited until she was completely out of sight. And then he turned to the door in front of him, raised his hand to it, and knocked softly.
The door opened. There was a man standing inside the dimly lit space beyond. He stepped aside wordlessly and watched Alexei enter the room.
A bedroom. A suite, maybe. There was a door to the side that could be a bathroom.
The door shut. Locked.
And suddenly, the only sound in that room was the terrified racing of Alexei’s heartbeat. Counting. He was counting. One, two, three. Counting without his lips moving.
Alexei’s back hit the wall. His hands lifted feebly to the grip driving his shoulders into the hard surface. Then gripped with earnest as a hand pressed up under his crop top. Bared his chest to the cold air. “Swan―” Choked, breathless. His nipples were pierced. Silver jewelry shone softly in the weak light. There was a scar on his abdomen. From a knife, maybe, but so cleanly healed, it could’ve been a surgery scar.
“Call me ‘Master’ tonight,” a voice responded.
Heart racing. His changed breathing. The trembling that was suddenly racking his entire body. “Master,” Alexei rasped. The stranger was pinning the neckline of his top to the wall so hard, it was cutting off his airway.
“I heard you’re seeing someone new,” that voice came again. Closer. So close to Alexei’s ear, it made Alexei flinch.
A crippled, forced smile pressed Alexei’s lips. “Just for fun,” he whispered.
“Someone I would like for you?”
“He’s not your type, Master,” Alexei breathed.
The hand on Alexei’s collar released suddenly, then took his neck in its grip. “I want to see him fuck you.”
Alexei choked. A tremor seized his entire body—something involuntary, desperate, still somehow bridled.
“I’m going to fuck you tonight,” that voice hissed into Alexei’s ear. “I’m going to hurt you, Alex. I’m going to hurt you so bad, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll bleed. I’ll violate you in every possible way. I’ll hurt you until you beg for the pain to stop. But first.”
Those hands lifted off Alexei’s neck and chest. Waited a moment while Alexei struggled against the reflexive gasps for air that immediately seized his body. Then lifted delicately to the blindfold on Alexei’s face.
The knot at the back of Alexei’s head came open easily. Alexei stood there, submissive, while those hands removed the blindfold, revealing wrapped bandaging below. He didn’t move as those hands began to unravel the bandaging, one layer slowly at a time.
Dark, perfect brows. Beautifully sculpted cheekbones. And those hands were one layer away from the last of the wrappings slipping off.
“Hey!”
Someone slapped Kellen on the cheek. A feeling like falling seized Kellen’s entire body, and both arms shot out, immediately striking something hard behind him. There was a deafening rattle.
Locker doors. He was sitting on the floor in the locker room, his back to a row of lockers. And in front of him, one crouched to the ground, the other leaning over—Benjamin and a stranger.
Only when Benjamin’s hand moved on Kellen’s arm did Kellen realize it was there at all. Stiffly, he swatted it away. “The hell―” he breathed. One second. Two. Panic. There was a feeling of pure panic that was flowing through his body like it had replaced his blood. His breathing was erratic. His heart was racing.
“Philip, hand me that Gatorade,” Benjamin spoke, his hand lifting toward the person beside him. His eyes were on Kellen.
The stranger handed Benjamin a bottle of blue liquid, and Benjamin wordlessly cracked it open and held it out to Kellen.
Kellen’s hand lifted feebly toward it, mind stalling on whether to take it or not. There was a loose end of a hand wrap dangling from his wrist—half unwound. His eyes focused on it, blurred.
“Jesus,” Benjamin whispered under his breath. He took Kellen’s chin in his hand and put the bottle to his lips.
The unfamiliar sweet-sour flavor of the liquid hit Kellen’s throat with the immediate feeling like he was about to throw up. He pushed the bottle away, spilling a significant portion of its contents across his own shirt.
“Shit―” Benjamin immediately re-capped the bottle. He watched Kellen for a moment. Then, “Can you respond, now? Can you hear me?”
Kellen’s eyes flashed up at him. Music. Not piano music. He could hear the gym music again, now. The light was back to normal. The space wasn’t so cold, anymore. “I’m fine.” The two words came out of Kellen’s throat with a rasp.
“You collapsed,” Benjamin responded sternly. “I figured you weren’t taking water breaks. I didn’t see a water bottle when I walked over there to talk to you. You can’t work out the way you were without frequent water breaks. It’s not safe.”
Kellen’s eyes shifted again in Benjamin’s direction.
“I saw you,” Benjamin emphasized immediately, as if he suspected Kellen were about to deny something.
“Benny,” Philip spoke up in a hushed voice. “We should still call an ambulance, right?”
He had his phone in his hand, Kellen realized as he looked up at the stranger. “No.” And this word came out more easily. His hands found the floor, and he slowly pulled himself upright. “No, I’m fine.” He ducked down again to gather his things off the ground.
What the hell, his mind responded. What the hell. And it kept playing through his thoughts like a broken record jamming up space for anything else. What the hell.
“You never told me your name,” Benjamin spoke up, his voice still firm. He lifted Kellen’s towel off the floor and held it out to him.
Kellen’s fingers slipped across the cracked screen of his phone, silently surveying new spiderweb fractures. “Jay,” he responded finally.
“Well, okay, Jay.” Benjamin smacked his lips, his arms meeting across his chest in a way that intentionally or unintentionally flexed his arm muscles. “Take water breaks, for the love of god. There’s a drinking fountain near the vending machines, if nothing else in the world. Right after you end your workout and your heartrate starts to come down is when you’re most vulnerable if you’re not properly hydrated.”
Kellen nodded wordlessly. He lingered, silent, for another moment before starting for the exit.
“I hope he’s okay,” Kellen heard over his shoulder.
“He’s fine, Philip. Look at him. Made of snips, and snails, and puppy-dog tails.”