Chapter 74 HAUNTED CHILDHOOD
(Trigger Warning: This chapter contains child abuse, physical violence, and strong language.)
(Eli's POV)
I am back in that house again.
The air is cold. Not the kind of cold that touches only your skin. The kind that sits inside your bones.
The lights in the sitting room are off. The curtains are drawn. The house smells like old alcohol and dust.
I am small again.
My feet are bare against the cold floor.
I hear his footsteps before I see him. Heavy, angry footsteps coming closer.
My younger self runs.
I run past the sitting room. My heart beats so fast I can hear it in my ears. I know this part. I know what comes next.
I drop to my knees and crawl under the staircase.
It is dark there. Tight. I press myself against the wall and cover my mouth so he won’t hear me breathe.
The front door slams.
“Eli!”
His voice shakes the whole house.
I stay still.
Please don’t find me. Please don’t—
The footsteps get closer.
Then they stop.
Silence…
For one second, I think maybe he gave up.
Then a hand grabs my ankle.
I scream.
He drags me out from under the stairs like I am nothing. My back scrapes against the floor.
“You think you can hide from me?” he yells.
His face is red. His eyes are wild.
Before I can speak, his palm hits my face.
The slap is so hard my head snaps to the side.
I fall to the floor.
The taste of iron fills my mouth.
“Why did you go outside?!” he shouts.
I shake on the floor.
“I—I just—”
He grabs his belt.
The sound of the buckle sliding out makes my whole body freeze.
“You want to go to your grandpa’s house?” he yells. “You want to go live with him? You want to be like him?”
He steps closer.
“Talking about dreams all day? Talking about stupid dreams he couldn't achieve and wants to pass on to you?”
The belt comes down.
The first hit burns.
I scream.
The second one lands across my back.
“Repeat after me!” he shouts.
Another hit.
“Your dreams are just dreams!!”
I sob.
“Say it!”
He hits me again.
“Y-your dreams are just dreams,” my small voice trembles.
He kicks my side. “Don't be so fucking stupid. Say your dreams are just dreams!”
“My d-dreams are just dreams.”
“Say it like a man!” he roars. “Stop being a fucking weakling! Your dreams are just dreams!!”
I try to breathe.
My chest hurts.
“My dreams are just dreams!!” I scream back.
The belt comes down again.
Then his foot slams into my stomach.
The air leaves my lungs.
“Fucking weak child,” he spits. “Speak up!!”
I curl on the floor.
“My dreams are just dreams,” I choke out.
Tears blur my eyes.
I start crying harder.
“Shut up!” he yells.
But I can’t stop.
I can’t.
The crying grows louder in my ears.
It echoes.
Echoes.
Echoes—
I cover my ears.
The sound gets louder.
Louder.
Louder.
I jolt awake.
My chest is rising too fast.
My body feels cold even though I’m under a blanket.
The room is dim.
Soft yellow light from the hallway slips through the half-open door.
I’m in the hospital.
My head throbs.
My side aches where the glass pierced me.
And someone is sitting beside my bed.
Julian.
He’s staring at me.
His face is serious.
His thumb brushes my cheek.
Only then do I realize my face is wet.
“Bad dreams?” he asks quietly.
I nod.
My throat feels tight.
“It’s okay,” he says softly. “You’re awake now.”
His voice is calm and steady.
Nothing like my father’s.
I close my eyes for a second.
It has been a long time since that dream came back.
Years.
Why now? Why tonight?
I swallow.
The room feels too big.
Too quiet.
I hate how small I feel right now.
Against my better judgment, I speak.
“Can you… lay next to me please?”
The words feel strange leaving my mouth.
Julian doesn’t tease me.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He stands up, removes his shoes, and carefully climbs into the hospital bed beside me.
The bed is small, but he makes space.
He pulls me gently to his chest.
His arm wraps around me.
His body is warm, solid, and real.
“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs. “You have me. I’m strong enough to fight nightmare monsters.”
I let out a small laugh.
It sounds weak, but it’s real.
“You’re going to punch them?” I ask softly.
“If necessary,” he replies seriously.
I snuggle closer without thinking.
His chest rises slowly under my cheek.
The steady rhythm of his breathing calms mine.
“What time is it?” I whisper.
“I’m not sure,” he says. “But it’s way past midnight.”
“Good,” I murmur. “Morning will come soon and I can leave this place.”
“Yes,” he says. “You’ll get discharged by morning.”
I nod.
Silence settles between us.
But my mind is awake now.
“Have you thought about my request?” I ask quietly.
Julian doesn’t answer.
I lift my head slightly to look at him.
“The work one,” I add. “I really want to work.”
He exhales slowly.
“Unless by work you mean sitting near me all day,” he says, “I can’t let you work.”
I frown.
“No, I don’t mean sitting near you all day,” I say. “And why can’t you let me work?”
His arm tightens around me slightly.
“I can’t let you out of my sight for too long,” he replies. “There’s danger in every corner.”
I roll my eyes a little.
“There’s no danger if I’m working in your company,” I argue. “I ride with you to work and back. You have surveillance systems everywhere. How could danger possibly come in?”
He goes quiet again.
His silence irritates me.
“I don’t want to stay at home doing nothing,” I continue softly. “I want to feel useful.”
“You are useful,” he says.
“How?” I press.
He doesn’t answer that.
Instead, he sighs.
“Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not feeling sleepy,” I reply.
“Stop talking,” he says gently. “Don’t hurt your head.”
I huff quietly, but I don’t pull away.
His hand moves to the back of my head carefully, avoiding the bandage.
He strokes my hair slowly.
The gesture is so different from the hands I grew up with.
No hitting. No shouting. No belts.
Just warmth.
I stare at the dim ceiling.
Why did that dream come back now?
Why did I hear his voice so clearly tonight?
Your dreams are just dreams.
The words still sting.
Maybe that’s why I want to work so badly.
Because I don’t want my life to feel like something I’m just surviving.
I want something that belongs to me.
Not just being someone’s son or someone's husband.
Not just being protected.
Not just being hidden away.
Julian’s chest vibrates slightly when he speaks again.
“You’re stubborn,” he mutters.
“You married me,” I whisper back.
He lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
“Sleep,” he says.
I close my eyes.
This time, the darkness isn’t cold.
His arm is still around me.
His warmth keeps the nightmares away.