I looked around me and all I could see was darkness. Where was I? How did I get here? Why did my head hurt so much? The last thing I could remember was Clay handing me a rum and Coke and smiling at me in that sweet way he always did.
Clay Spears was my cute little 5’7” “lover” of about 8 months. He had shoulder length black hair that he usually wore in a high ponytail with one of the many beautiful ribbons he liked to wear. We never really defined what kind of relationship we had but I knew deep down I loved him with all my heart. And he. He was an enigma to me. One minute he would be so sweet and caring and oh so loving towards me and the next he was screaming and yelling and calling me a b*stard. He always like to thow things like my books and coffee mugs at me. It was so unassuming. Looking at his sweet warm face and smaller frame compared to mine, no one would think that I was more afraid of him than I “should'' be. That he was abusing me. ME, the 6'3” health nut that loved to spend most of his time working out and training. For chirsts sake, I was a security guard at a high class club downtown. I could never put up a fight with him though. I could never hit him.
He never would talk down towards me when we were out with friends or out at one of his favorite bars though. I think even if I was brave enough to tell anyone what he had done to me, they would not have believed me because of how well manicured his public persona was. And San Branchforks was his domain afterall. We may have grown up in the same hometown, but I was just some shadow behind him, never to be acknowledged or taken seriously.
I got up slowly, shaking off the grogginess. My legs were very wobbly and my back felt like it was going to break. I had shuffled my way to the edge of the room, running my hand along the wall trying to find a light switch. Ah there it is. I braced myself as I flipped the lights on. Sh*it, it’s too bright. I snapped my eyes shut as I saw stars and felt nausea rising up. I rubbed my temples and slowly opened my eyes back up.
I was in some kind of storage room. There were shelves of linens and cleaning chemicals. I looked down to see that my shirt was ripped and it looked like there was some blood on my shirt. “Sh*t what the hell happened to me.” I could feel my heart pounding in my temples. I could hear people talking right outside the door. I was becoming more and more scared and confused.
“Hey there,” I really couldn’t hear what was being said. I tried straining to hear but they were walking away from the room. I took a few deep breaths and ran a shaky hand through my hair. “You can do this, Corey,” I whispered to myself. “Just get out and go home. Forget whatever this is maybe.” I nodded slightly and opened the door.
The hallway was dim, a low humming from the lights overhead. I vaguely remembered this hall. It looked like I was still in the club but it must have been after closing time because this area normally had some people making out. As I was leaving the club I happened to run into one of the younger bartenders, Hayleigh I think. I cound not really remember. She was a short, pretty girl. Way shorter than Clay. She had the prettiest pale blue eyes and always wore very “eccentric” makeup. When she worked she always liked to give me a few drinks for free. I was never certain if it was because she was trying to flirt with me or just hoping for a really good tip from us. Clay and I never did show any PDA. After all, he was still in the closet and I didnt really scream "gay" like some of the people that came to this club.
I slowed my pace hoping she wouldn’t see me and it was just my luck that she happened to turn around and look at me. Her eyes widened as she looked me over. “Omg! Dude what happened to you?” I winced. Her voice was way too loud. She ran back to me and gently put her hands to my face. “Your face! How did you cut your face? Your shirt?” She was shaking. I think she might have been more scared than I was. She stepped back and looked me over trying to see if there were any other cuts.
I slowly shook my head, “I’m really not sure. All I remember was Clay bringing me a drink and then waking up in the storage closet in so much pain.” The more I stood there the more the dull pain that was in my legs and back had worsened to the point my legs were shaking again. She carefully grabbed my hand and patted it, “Come with me Corey, we are going to the hospital. You need to get this all looked at.”
I pulled my hand away from her, “Hayleigh please,” I looked at her pleading, “no doctors. No hospitals. I can’t. I can’t afford that.” She put her hand on my shoulder and shook her head at me, “If you don’t go, it could get infected. It looks like you have some bruises on your side here.” She lightly touched my right side where the shirt was ripped. No, that's not new. That’s from a few days ago. But I couldn’t tell her that. I didn’t even want to admit why they were there. She sighed at me and closed her eyes, clearly upset with my reluctance, “If not the hospital then come with me to the office. I will get the first aid kit and see if we have anything to disinfect your cuts at least.”
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