Caleb was not new to pain, he could easily take a harsh slap to his face, but he was stunned nonetheless. He tried to stagger away from Rafiq, but he was held firmly in the older man’s grip.
“Bathe!” Rafiq growled with enough force to vibrate Caleb’s head.
“No!” Caleb cried, tears falling down his face.
Rafiq bent his body and threw his shoulder into Caleb’s stomach and hoisted him over his shoulder. Ignoring the pounding fists on his back, he strode purposefully into the bathroom and all but tossed the boy inside. He ignored the angry screaming and invective curses coming from Caleb’s twisted mouth and turned the knob to release cold water into the tub.
Caleb’s body jolted at the feeling of cold water soaking his clothes and touching his skin. Unable to resist and full of anger, he managed to punch Rafiq in the face and scramble halfway out of the tub. He had only ignited more of Rafiq’s rage. He felt Rafiq’s hand fisting in his hair, then the pain on his scalp and in his neck as he was wrenched backward. The bathtub filled around him as Rafiq pressed him to the bottom of the tub.
Fear and dread gripped him.
“You will obey me, boy! You will! Or I will drown you, here and now. You belong to me. Understand?”
Caleb’s mouth and nose filled with water. He could not make out words clearly and he heard only the angry shouting of the man holding him prisoner in the water. The feeling of impending death held him paralyzed with fear. Anything. He would give anything to never feel this brand of fear again.
Air!
Caleb gasped and heaved as he was pulled up, his arms scrambling for purchase and finding Rafiq’s shoulders. He pulled himself toward the warmth and safety of Rafiq’s body. He fought the arms trying to shrug him off. Caleb thought nothing of his panicked cries, he only wanted out of the tub. He wanted only to breathe and to be warm.
Strong arms gripped his shoulders and shook.
“Calm, Caleb. Calm. Breathe,” Rafiq said. His tone was soothing despite its intensity. “Be calm, Caleb. I will not put you in the water again if you’re prepared to listen. Still!”
Caleb worked hard to do as Rafiq asked. He held firm to Rafiq’s shoulders, telling himself over and again he could not be thrown into the water so long as he held on. Caleb stilled and shuddered, taking his first calm breath. He took another and another, until at last, only his anger remained. Slowly, he released Rafiq’s shoulders and slumped into the tub. He shivered at the cold, his lip trembling, but he wouldn’t ask Rafiq for hot water.
“I hate you,” Caleb spat, teeth chattering.
Rafiq’s eyes were calm and collected. With a smirk, he stood and left the room.
Caleb’s eyes stung with angry tears and because he was alone, he let them fall. Sure Rafiq would not return, he turned the tap for the hot water and huddled close to it, hoping it would warm him all the faster. He dragged his sopping wet clothes over his head and threw them in a heap on the bathroom floor with a sense of satisfaction over the mess he was making.
Pure, unfettered, anger rolled through his body like a physical thing. Pulling his knees to his chin he bit into the flesh of his knees, scraping them with his teeth. The tears would not abate! They continued to leak from his eyes. He felt weak and pitiful. He could not stop Rafiq from doing this to him. He bit harder, longing for the physical pain to release him from his suffering.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to hit things.
He wanted to kill again.
He scraped his fingernails along the flesh of his arms, simultaneously feeling pain and relief as his skin broke and small drops of blood appeared on his flesh. He repeated the process – more pain – more release. In the water, Narweh’s blood swirled with his. He didn’t know what to feel at the sight of it. Numbness assailed him. He stared, transfixed as the blood of the man who tortured him for so long, dissipated into the water surrounding him.
Who was he now?
He was no longer Kéleb, no longer Narweh’s Dog. It was the only name he had ever known, the only thing he had ever been.
He’s dead. He’s truly dead.
His thoughts returned to Tehran, returned to the night he murdered his owner, his tormentor, and his caretaker. Kéleb had lifted the gun and Narweh’s face had registered shock, then fear, only for a moment. Then, he had given, Kéleb, the look – the one to remind him he was less than human in Narweh’s eyes – and then Kéleb squeezed the trigger. He was thrown by the force of the powerful weapon.
He missed it.
He missed the moment of Narweh’s death.
Bits of gore sprayed his hair, face and chest, but he did not register them. He scrambled toward the body. No gurgling, no gasping…only a corpse. And he felt…sorrow. Narweh had never begged. He had never knelt at Kéleb’s feet and begged his mercy and forgiveness.
No, Narweh had never begged, but he was dead. And under the sorrow, there was blessed relief.
But you have a new owner now, don’t you? Caleb.
He screwed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. Then, he did as Rafiq asked and washed his old life from his skin.
***
Caleb woke, startled and anxious. He reached for the dream as it raced to abandon his conscious mind. There was something…something important. It was gone.
Frustrated, it took him a moment to realize Kitten’s eyes were scanning him. She looked like shit. The bruises on her face were much more pronounced than they had been the night before. Her eyes were swollen and purple against her russet skin. Her nose, free of tape, also looked inflamed. Under the damage, he could still see Kitten, surviving despite it all.
His heart again – it seemed to pinch in his chest. He kept it from registering on his face. He struggled for words. After their encounter last night and still reeling from Rafiq’s text, what could he possibly say? All he had to offer was more bad news.
He settled for stating the obvious, “It’s morning.”
Kitten’s brows furrowed and she winced from the effort. “I know. I’ve been up for a while,” she said morosely.
Caleb glanced away, feigning interest in his surroundings. He’d nearly f**ked up—nearly f**ked her. That could never happen. A sense of urgency filled him. They had to leave this place, as soon as possible, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. The night had been intense.
“Are you…in pain? Can you sit up?” Caleb whispered.
“I don’t know. I’m in too much pain to try,” Kitten whispered just as softly.
They stared at each other, a second too long, gazes touching too closely before they both quickly, almost frantically, darted their eyes away, choosing to look anywhere but at one another.
“Or maybe I’m just too terrified to think about what’s going to happen today. Or tomorrow. Maybe I just want to go back to sleep and wake up from my life.” There was pain in her voice and he knew it wasn’t physical. Caleb glanced in her direction and noticed she wasn’t crying. She was simply staring off into space, too numb for tears, Caleb supposed. He knew the feeling well.
And now this. Limbo. A state of existence he’d never experienced. He felt immobilized by what had happened, about everything, because as f**ked up as it had been before, he’d been in control and removed. Now, their situation was untenable. Their continued existence around each other would only cause more pain and agony. Caleb scratched his face, digging his fingers into his stubble, as if, by distraction, he would never have to look at Kitten again, never have to tell her they had to leave, and, despite last night…she was still his prisoner. He was still her master.
“Fuck it,” she huffed, her voice strong, as though awakening from the numb void and becoming vibrant and willful again, “let’s get this over with, Caleb. What the hell happens, now?”
Caleb. He just looked at her. There it was again, the use of his name. He knew he should correct her, force her to address him as Master, and restore the delineation, the barriers between them, but he just couldn’t, f**king, do it. He was exhausted! So, damn, exhausted.
“Breakfast, I suppose. Afterward, we have to leave. Beyond that, I don’t care to discuss it,” he said. He tried to force some semblance of levity, but it fell flat and Kitten knew it.
“And last night?” She tried to keep her tone neutral, but Caleb knew her too well now and he didn’t have to guess at what she was really asking. She wanted to know if she meant something to him, if the fact they’d almost...fucked, changed his mind about selling her into slavery. The answer was yes…and, no. Vladek still needed to pay, and Kitten, still had her part to play. They were past the point of no return.
“I told you everything you wanted to know.” He paused, tempering his tone. “I’m not saying any more. So, stop asking.” He bolted out of bed and rushed toward the bathroom. Inside, he avoided his reflection and searched for a toothbrush. Two of them sat near the sink. He chose the least chewed and put some toothpaste on it. Germs were the least of his concerns. Although he’d showered only hours ago, he turned on the hot water, only the hot water, and set about stripping from his borrowed clothes.
The water scalded him and his own body fought to remove itself from the punishing temperature of the water, but Caleb, wouldn’t allow it. He forced himself to feel the stinging pain. He gritted his teeth and ignored the fact his skin would probably blister in places. Placing his hands against the shower wall he let the torrid water and multiple shower heads beat his confusion out of him. His back felt tight, already sensitive. The scars he wore tingled and came alive.