There's A Place For Us

Chapter 13:Hugo

I feel Timothy’s warmth next to me as I fall asleep, wrapped up around me. Now that I’m close to him and not afraid of touching him, I notice his hands and feet are always cold. His blond hair is wavy, I feel his chest rise and fall against my spine. Everything seems enhanced, in a good way until I fade into sleep, into a nightmare of that night two years ago.

I’m pinned to the bed by a dark figure, Seth, I struggle, to move, to breathe, to get away. My eyes are darting around the room, I can see little. The mattress, the blanket on my bed and the sparse wall I had yet to decorate. I can feel Seth’s hand over my mouth and around the other around my wrists, holding them together so I can barely move. I try to kick at him but his weight is on my legs. I feel myself being undressed by him. I realized he had to have secured my hands to do this. I guess the event was so traumatic I forgot or it’s just a component of the dream version my mind has conjured up. I keep trying to talk, mumble, murmur, anything to alert the people sleeping just down the hall. But they are sound asleep, they hear nothing.

If you hear nothing, it never happened. Or at least that’s what they’d like to think. That’s how secrets work. If no one else was there, it never happened.

When he’s done, he slinks away. I’m frozen in fear and pain. Thinking he’ll come back. But he doesn’t. He just did, with no remorse for me. What if they did hear that night? What if they let him do it? My mind was being pulled further into the irrational part of the dream world. Where monsters hid under beds, and Seth stalked me in the shadows following me around. Like a leech, sucking the blood out of me, a parasite still getting joy out of my suffering.

I’m curled on the old bed that never even grew to feel like my own, crying quietly. Ashamed and terrified he was coming back, I sat there, the sun never rose, I was just there waiting to see if he’d come back. Eventually, he did, I was facing the clock this time and noticed it never moved past 3:00 am. It was on a never-ending loop from 1:34 am to 3:00 am and so was the incident. He kept coming back and doing it over and over. I was never able to get up after he left, it was like I was glued to the bed.

Finally, the bed started shaking and I was pulled from it into Timothy’s arms. I was awakened. I breathed in his cologne, so my mind could process it wasn’t Seth I was in bed with. He smelt vastly different, like spice, it wasn’t overpowering like Seth.

“You’re okay,” he whispered being gentle.

His blond-wavy hair is longer than Seth’s short red hair. His eyes were bright blue whereas Seth’s were brown and blended in with the dark.

“You’re safe,” he muttered softly.

Timothy! Timothy! Timothy!

I thought over and over. I moved my hands to remind myself they were free and not bound or being held by Seth. Timothy was being cautious not to set me off or make me feel trapped. I kicked the blanket off me, and the cold air touched my skin. Timothy let me go. I slid out of the bed and onto the floor.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

He wants to help.

I told myself over and over.

He’s not going to hurt you. He’s NOT Seth.

I was still shaking and trying to calm my breathing.

“I’m sorry,” I answered shakily.

“Don’t be sorry. He hurt you, your body is just protecting you. If you can’t sleep here that’s okay. Do you want me to go sleep on the couch? Or you can? So, you don’t feel trapped?” he replies.

“Go back to sleep, I don’t think I’m going to,” I reply.

“I’m here if you need me, okay?” he answers.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” I say still trying to calm myself.

Timothy moves over closer to my side of the bed and closes his eyes. I listen to his breathing slow and the rise and fall of his chest become the only movement. I get up and leave the room, I go into the bathroom and turn the shower on, hoping it doesn’t wake Timothy or bother the neighbours considering how early it is.

I sit under the warm water and listen to the pounding of the shower water on the linoleum bathtub. I sit there for a long time, so long I hear Timothy’s normal alarm go off for school. The water is starting to turn cold.

I hear a knock on the bathroom door.

“Hugo?” Timothy calls.

I turn off the shower, dry myself and bundle myself back into the thick warm clothing I brought into the bathroom to change into. I open the door and Timothy is standing a few feet back as if I’d need space.

I close the gap cautiously and hope my body doesn’t panic. Everything stays calm. I hug him and he embraces me. I kiss him gently on the lips before pulling back to look at him.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I am now, bad nightmare,” I reply.

“You look tired,” he whispers. “You should try sleeping again.”

“They said the social worker would call soon,” I reply.

“I’ll keep an eye on my phone,” he reassures me. “Come on.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. I lay down on it and he sits beside me like we did earlier in the week before I confessed. Timothy turns on the TV and starts watching a movie. The noise helps. The silence of the night always bothered me because it was quiet that night aside from the noises I was attempting to make to wake those down the hall. I felt the heaviness of sleep wash back over me and I fell asleep. This time it was peaceful endless blackness, no Seth. I woke up hours later. The TV was still on but Timothy wasn’t on the couch. I heard his voice, in the kitchen. I rolled over to look and see where he was.

“He’s sleeping, he had a nightmare last night and didn’t get much sleep,” Timothy spoke with concern.

“They said they’d consider it. That’s better than outright rejection. He has my number if it doesn’t work out but let’s not go there, yet, the social worker knows he trusts us and the process will be easier for him if he feels comfortable with the people who are fostering him. A fresh start in another city might be good for him, too. There won’t be reminders of Seth or living on the street,” Timothy continues.

“I know, I know,” he continues. “Talk to you later. Bye.”

I hear the tone of the line going dead on the other end and him hanging up on his.

My body is sore from sleeping on the couch. I wish I could sleep peacefully in the bed with Timothy. I wish there were no after-effects of the incident. Timothy walks in from the kitchen and looks up from his phone. He notices me.

“You’re awake. My aunt called the social worker, but they haven’t called here, yet. They are considering her but they’re worried because she’s from another state and they’re looking into her experience and qualifications. It’s looking good,” he informs me.

He stands leaning against the wall by the doorway to the bedroom.

I saw the difference between us, then. I guess I saw it before, I knew he had a family, a life, hope, and school, but I also knew he had a lot more going for him. But he’d never been homeless, he’d never been r***d, and he had his own struggles, I knew. I sat up on the couch and he walked closer slowly.

I offered my hand to him, and he took it and I pulled him onto the couch with me. He smiled, even though that was different from Seth, his expression had been manic, and methodical in some way, but the rest of the time I couldn’t see it.

Timothy sat beside me holding my hand. He looked from our intertwined fingers to my face. I always imagined holding hands and kissing would be exhilarating but that had been dumbed down by the incident with Seth. I studied our hands together. Our thighs and shoulders rested against each other. I leaned my head on his shoulder and continued to stare at our hands. I felt his head turn and kiss the top of my head, I close my eyes and just try to enjoy it. We sit there quietly for a while.

The moment eventually gets interrupted by the ringing of Timothy’s phone. He picks it up off the table and looks at the caller ID.

“It’s the social worker,” he replies.

He answers the phone.

“He’s right here,” he replies quickly holding the phone out to me.

I take it.

“Hello?” I answer quietly.

“Hello, Hugo. First, I’d like to apologize immensely for your last social worker leaving you out in the rain and for what happened in the last place you were put. We know about Samantha Erin’s offer for fostering you. We’re looking into her now. I just wanted you to explain where you are staying right now because they didn’t call me right after the interview, the police said you’re staying with a Timothy Winter, they said he’s a friend of yours?” she plows through.

“Yeah, he’s a friend. I met him a couple of weeks ago. He let me stay in his apartment,” I explain.

“Does Seth or his parents know any of this?” she asks.

“I saw him a few days ago but I haven’t spoken to them since the incident,” I reply.

“Okay, I just want to make sure you’re safe there. I understand you are comfortable and trust these people, Hugo but just know there is no guarantee this will work out, I just don’t want to get your hopes up and then dash them when it doesn’t pan out or hurt you more than you already are,” she continues.

“I understand, I’m glad you’re being transparent with me. It’s honestly better than the last social worker did, she just moved me around with little warning and then she lost my file. I understand you guys are busy and underpaid but we put our trust in you and it hurts when it’s broken,” I reply.

“Yeah, I understand, I really do. I will try to find the right home for you if it doesn’t work out with Samantha. I will definitely check their records and the behaviour of prior kids and current kids in their care. I will try to find you a family who is open to working with you through your troubles, who understands the experience you’ve had in the past and can afford to help you get the treatment you’d need after an experience like that,” she assures me.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Call me if you need anything or if you don’t feel comfortable staying with Timothy any longer, okay?” she tells me. “I want you to know you can trust me and come to me with anything.”

“I know, I will,” I tell her.

It’s a lie. I have none of her track record or a reason to trust her. Even if things got bad with Timothy I don’t think I’d go to her. I highly doubt Timothy is going to hurt me, or at least not intentionally.

“Goodbye,” she says with too much cheer in her voice for my liking.

“Bye,” I reply.

I hang up and hand the phone off to Timothy quickly like she’s still on the line. He sets the phone back on the table before looking at me again. He laid back on the couch.

“Come here,” he said quietly.

I hesitate but crawl over to him. I lay down on top of him. My head on his chest, his chin rests on the top of my head and his arm wraps around me. I feel secure and loved in his embrace then rather than threatened. I wish I could feel like this all the time with him, it’s how it should be with the person I like at my age. I shouldn’t be scared of loving someone. But the world screwed that up for me. Sometimes the world sucks, really sucks.