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Kit didn’t give me a choice. He was there every single moment, making sure that I detoxed from my years of indulgence. I don’t know if he slept at all the first few days as I began my descent into Hell itself.
The first few hours were nothing I hadn’t dealt with before. My head was aching, I lashed out at Kit any chance I got. Anger and rage flowed through my veins instead of blood. All I could do was hate him for denying me what I wanted more than anything in the world: relief. But he kept on, keeping me from escaping the house multiple times, tackling me to the ground more than once. I didn’t sleep at all that first night.
The second day, things began to get worse. The once-throbbing headache had folded in on itself and multiplied. It felt like my skull was cracking in half and nothing could hold it together. The pressure was so immense I knew I was going to explode. Kit had to stop me from hurting myself as I repeatedly slammed my head against the wall. It was the only thing that seemed to help. He kept trying to give me water and painkillers, or something to eat, but nothing helped. On my very first attempt to eat I began to vomit. Once that started, nothing could pass my lips, not even water, without being out of my body within moments.
The days started to melt into one another and I lost all track of time. My body was racked with pain from head to toe. My guts felt like they were trying to twist themselves out of my body. My muscles began to quiver and shake involuntarily as the dizziness overtook me. The vertigo was so intense that I couldn’t even stand up. I remember crawling my way to the bathroom to throw up once more and leaning back against the wall after I had finished. My legs were hugged close to my chest, my muscles jumping underneath the skin as I rocked back and forth.
I knew I was going to die. It wasn’t going to be peaceful and it wasn’t going to be easy. The floating sensation and constant quaking left me breathless and scared. A level of anxiety and paranoia I had never experienced forced its way into my mind. In that moment I was more afraid than I had ever been. I knew that, one way or another, something was coming to get me. Whether it be my father, a total stranger, or Death themself, something was going to kill me. As I floated through open space I could hear their voices in my head, taunting me. They called aloud, spilling all my secrets and fears to the world so that they could be used against me. I could hear the whip of my father’s belt swinging through the air as the buckle struck my spine, tearing the flesh clean off my back. I could feel the punches, the cuts, the burns, everything he had ever done to me as if they were all happening at once.
The room was growing dark, my vision tunneling in as I continued to hyperventilate alone on the floor. At that moment I heard a noise and my head snapped up to the doorway. Standing in the frame was the large bearded man that had raped me. He was holding a belt in his hand and slapping it into the other so that it echoed through the bathroom.
“No... please...” I cried, shaking. “Not again!”
He spoke back to me, but it sounded garbled and far away. I knew what he was going to do. He only ever did one thing. I’d lived those moments over and over in my nightmares.
“Go away!” I screamed, ripping the toilet paper holder off the wall and throwing it at him. I grabbed anything I could, screaming at him as he came toward me. I ripped down the shower curtain, broke the seat off the toilet, anything that wasn’t nailed down. I kicked and screamed as he got closer, reaching his fat greasy hands towards me. My vision had constricted so far that I could barely see him. The wave of lightheadedness hit me and I fell backwards, hitting my head on the edge of the plastic tub. I screwed my eyes shut, bracing against the pain that was amplified by the never ending migraine.
“Ryan!” he called out. “Stop!”
How did he know my name? I never told him my name.
“Ryan, you’re going to hurt yourself!” the voice grew softer, a hand reaching out to grab my shoulder.
“No! Don’t touch me!” I yelled, swinging wildly with my eyes still shut. “Don’t touch me or I’ll fucking kill you! I learned my lesson! Leave me alone!”
“Ryan,” the gentle voice cooed as he grabbed my wrists to stop me.
I stopped struggling. The voice was familiar.
“Buddy,” he whispered as he slowly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me away from the tub, “It’s me. It’s Kit. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I let my arms sink to my sides, my head falling forward against his shoulder. He pulled me off to the side, leaning me back against the wall. He held me tight, not letting me go.
“Kit?” I asked weakly, my vision growing darker.
“I’m right here,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “You’re okay.”
I felt my body go slack once more as the world went dark.
***
I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I awoke I was back in my own bed again in fresh clothes and clean bedding. My entire body was sore and my head still ached, but the splitting migraine was gone. I glanced up and saw sunlight streaming through the open window, the soft cries of birds in the trees echoing through. I felt clear, like I had stepped out of a long mist and into summer once more. It was strange and unfamiliar, but welcome nonetheless.
“Kit,” I called out softly, my voice hoarse from the aching dryness that coated my throat.
He came around the corner, stepping through the door and up to the bed.
“You’re not calling me Jonathan anymore,” he sighed, handing me a glass of water he somehow knew to have. “I guess that’s a good sign.”
I snatched the glass and began gulping greedily before it was pulled away, spilling water onto the fresh bedding.
“You have to slow down,” he commanded, offering the glass back to me slowly. “Take small sips and let it settle. You’ve barely kept anything down for almost four days.”
“How... how long was I out?” I croaked, taking a small sip from the glass again.
“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days.” Kit replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed near my hips. “You were running a terrible fever and I couldn’t get you to drink anything. I almost called an ambulance.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t have any health insurance,” I said chuckling weakly.
“You really had me worried Ryan,” he continued. “I... I really thought you might die.”
He hung his head low, the pain and worry evident on his face. I could see the dark circles under his eyes. His hair was unkempt and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. Without a second thought I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.
“Thank you Kit,” I said, enjoying the warmth of his skin.
“We’re not done yet,” he said, looking back up. “That was the rough part. But now that it’s out of your system, the cravings are going to start. You’ve got a long road ahead of you.”
“The only thing I want right now is pizza,” I laughed.
“You haven’t eaten anything solid in six days,” Kit shook his head. “Why don’t we start with something easier like some oatmeal or something.”
“Are you trying to kill me?”