Chapter 87 I am home

Chapter 87 I am home

I was suddenly dragged out of my sleep when the sound of glass penetrated my ears. The room was dark, the only light being the moonlight that seeped through the closed blinds. In my foggy state, I remained calm, tucked away in bed, thinking that the sound was nothing more than a dream that had been cut short.

My belief was shattered the moment that sound ricocheted off of the walls once more. It was loud, disturbing, and awoke me from the sleepy state I was in before.

It sounded like someone was rummaging through the kitchen drawers, I could hear the utensils inside slamming against their confines and jingling loudly. Shortly after the assault on the drawers, it sounded like the perpetrator was carelessly going through the cupboard that held the few glass cups I owned.

With each sound of shattering glass, I winced.

I don't miss a beat when I jump up from bed, panting with nervousness and surveying my options around me. Colton had purposely left a bat in this room, just in case worst came to worst and I had to defend myself somehow.

He also a large butcher knife in the bedside table next to me, and I wasted no time in grabbing both of those items before venturing out of my room.

I wasn't able to turn on any lights, lest I alert the intruder that I'm here. I should've just stayed in my room in all honesty, but part of me believes that if they're going to ransack my kitchen, then they're certainly going to do the same with the rest of the house including the room I called safe.

I crept along the halls, careful to stay flat against the wall in order to hide in the darker shadows that the walls cast.

My heart was loud in my ears, I could feel my pulse throbbing in the veins of my hands and wrists. My heart beating frantically as if to warn me of the danger that threatened its life.

I try to keep my breathing steady and quiet, but it's hard to do so and the knife threatens to spill from my grasp.

I was prepared to do whatever it takes in order to survive, the sharp glint of the knife in one of my hands made me even more anxious.

As I approached the kitchen, I peered out from behind the safety of the wall, seeking the person who dared to come into my home at the most ungodly hour of the night and disrupt my sleep, as well as my sanity. But upon seeing who it was, I growled and flipped on the kitchen light.

"What the hell, Colton?!" I shout, letting the baseball bat and knife slip from my hands. I am pissed - beyond pissed that he would burst into my apartment and break my belongings so carelessly. I was beyond pissed that he would put me through quite the scare by breaking in late at night and causing a mess.

He stands there, looking down and gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles turn white. He's not facing me, instead, I have a view of his profile.

But when he looks up at me, he looks like an absolute wreck.

My anger dissipates some, luckily for him, but not that much.

His hair is messy, thrown about all over his face, all over his eyes and sticking up everywhere. He wears a scowl and he seems.....off.

Maybe a bit drunk, perhaps? Tipsy, maybe....because I certainly can smell the hint of alcohol from here.

"Where did I-I put that damn bottle?" He says lowly, turning his attention back to my drawers where he starts being rough with them again.

"Colton, go home, you're not yourself." I say, approaching him. He looks taken aback by my words and he narrows his eyes at me.

"I am home!" He roars, scowling at me.

"No, you're at my apartment. It's one in the morning, Colton, you're drunk."

"Not damn yet, I'm not. Give me the fucking bourbon."

"No."

He turns to me, eyes crazed. "Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't have any. Like I said, you're confused and you're in my apartment thinking that this is your home."

My eyes fall to his hands and I realize that blood coats them. In the bright light of the kitchen, I also notice small splatters of blood dotting his t-shirt.

He goes back to rummaging through my drawers rudely, and I've had enough. Enough is enough. A frown is set into my face and without thinking, I grab his wrist, my fingers wrapping tightly around it.

He freezes. He completely stops what he's doing and freezes. His head slowly turns, and when he looks me in the eye, I'm terrified.

His eyes have visibly darkened, but despite my fear, I stand strong.

"Colton, why the hell do you have blood on you?" I say firmly, looking him directly in the eyes.

His breath is heavy, and part of me believes that this isn't Colton, but a beastly side of him that needs to be dealt with.

He stalks closer to me, bending down and getting in my face. He's close, too close now, but I refuse to let him see my fear.

"That's none of your business." He whispers.

"None of my business," I scoff, "I think it is my business when you come marching into my home, waking me up and shattering my belongings. I think it is my business because I may not know everything about you, but I know who you are. Whatever you do is my business especially since we can't seem to be separated from each other long. So, do tell, why do you have blood on your hands?"

He is visibly shocked for a moment from my outburst, but quickly collects himself. He wretches his hand away from my tight grasp and runs a hand down his face in exhaustion.

"They're dead. Your attackers." He says, his voice low and monotone.

I stand there stunned in silence. What is one supposed to say in this position? What is one supposed to do? To know that a man has been raised in a life of violence and has killed some other men in retaliation for their crimes.....what is one supposed to do?

Am I supposed to flee? I already have some fear of Colton....but what am I supposed to do?

"Go on, fucking leave me. Tell me to get out." He says.

"What?"

"Hate me. Despise me." He says, glancing at me with wavering eyes.

"No."

"Hate me! Hate me like they've all done!" His voices raises, and I wince at the tone. It sounds so distraught and I watch as he becomes angry. Colton's explosive anger is always extreme.

"No, Colton, I will not."

When he pulls his face out of his hands, I have a hard time deciphering what emotion exactly is splattered across his face just like the blood on his hands and shirt. It looks somewhere between severe anger and sorrow, and I know his outburst will not be good.

It's like he's held in all of his emotions for so long that eventually, when provoked, he loses himself in them.

"I'm a monster! Don't you get it? I'm a monster!" He cries, his voice breaking and sounding rough, "Why do you do this to me? Why do you care?"

"Why do I care? I care because I'm not like them. I'm not like those people who have harmed you in your life, and who throw damaged goods out. I care because that's just who I am. I care because you and I, we're not that different from each other, and I certainly know what struggling feels like. I care because you hold so much worth as a person to me." I'm honest. I'm honest and I spill the words that he desperately needs to hear.

He's no longer alone.

Angry tears drown his eyes and roll down his face, and in lightening speed, he turns around and punches the nearest wall to him, letting out broken cries as he does so. "Why?!" He shouts, "Why, why why?!"

Panicked, I rush over to him and wrap my arms around his own arms, trying to hinder his assault on the collapsing wall. His fists are being damaged and are getting bloodied with each punch, and I fear he will injure himself permanently.

"Colton! Colton, stop!" I beg desperately, trying to restrain his arms back. While it did slow him down, it wasn't enough to completely restrict him.

"Calm down, shhh it's alright, I'm here. I'm here." I say, trying to calm him. After a few more moments, his punches cease but his heavy breathing does not. I watch as this powerful, predator-like man crumbles before my eyes. I watch as the thick walls he's built come crashing down and I watch as he pours his heart out to me.

He's finally breaking. He's breaking and for once, I can see the pain in his eyes. "Why did they have to sell me?" He asks, his voice broken as he delivers one more punch to the wall. I throw my arms around his waist, and much to my surprise, he clings to me just as tight.

"Why couldn't they have just loved me?" He murmurs into my neck. I can feel his tears drip onto my skin and my heart breaks for him as he cries into me.

"We're going to get through this, I promise, Colton. You need to talk this out, you need to tell me, you can trust me, I won't judge." I whisper, stroking his back gently.

"It is time. It is time to let loose all of your emotions that you've trapped inside of you for all these years. Let it out, Colton."

So he does.

He pulls away from me, looking down at me with puffy eyes.

"Can I really trust you?" He asks, unsure. His voice is wavering, sounding like he's trying his best to keep it all together.

"Yes, I promise."

So then his story begins.

"I come from a broken, abusive home," He begins, "My parents didn't even fucking name me, did you know that? They didn't even name their own child. Bastards they are, beating me and selling me to.....to traffickers." He spits, full of anger.

I'm appalled by the cruelness of his parents. At least I had a good childhood, and even though everyone was fake, at least I felt loved growing up.

"I fucking hate them." He says, his anger being fueled once more, "I hate them for what they did to me, they were the cause of my downfall.

"But you are the one responsible for your future, Colton. Don't be so stuck on the past that you lose sight of the future and ruin yourself." I tell him.

"But it's hard, so hard. I just want to destroy everyone who has wronged me. Too much blood is already on my hands, but I can't get rid of the desire to avenge myself. I think that maybe, if I get revenge, then I can finally live in peace. But that's not it, that's not it at all. Killing others, no matter how evil they are, doesn't cure me but ruins me even more." He admits.

I decide not to interrupt him and just let him speak.

His bottom lip trembles and his eyes start to water again. "Oh god, I can't....I can't do this. What's wrong with me? I'm fucking pathetic."

"No you're not. You're not pathetic. You're doing something you should have done a long time ago, and that is confront your emotions. Get used to it, because I will be your listener from now on." I tell him.

He bites his lip hard and furrows his eyebrows. "I hate humanity. I hate most of them because they're all greedy inside. I know this because my parents sold me....they sold me for a few bucks just to buy more drugs for their selfish desires. They fucking sold me to human traffickers, Lily." He says.

"You know how old I was?" He asks.

I shake my head. I don't know if I want to know how old he was. My heart was already shattered enough.

"I was six. Fucking six years old. I was only a child and even then, I was already broken. I was already broken long before I was introduced into human trafficking." He spits bitterly.

He explains further, going into dark details of his abusive home life. He told me the many nights he was beaten and starved in small, dark rooms. That's why he had a panic attack that day in my apartment - because the room resembled the room he had spent much of his childhood in being tortured and starved.

He also explained that the fact that he was claustrophobic didn't help the situation, either.

Then he tells me how he was used in human trafficking when he was only seven years old. IT sickens me, it sickens me how people can be so perverted and cruel. I'm sick to my stomach as he tells me about his rape, and before I know it, tears start flooding down my cheeks, too.

"I'M FUCKING DIRTY! How can you even stand me, how can you even bear to look at me?" He questions emotionally, becoming a mix of angry and sorrowful.

"Don't you remember? I was a victim of human trafficking, too. I'm just like you in that aspect, just like you." I say, grabbing his hand tightly and pulling him closer and looking him in the emotionally driven eyes.

"Don't keep pulling yourself down, don't you see that you are drowning yourself?" I ask, my voice breaking.

"Just let me drown." He whispers.

"Never."

He jerks his gaze away from mine, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. I see a lone tear clinging to his lashes and I watch as he lets it fall.

That was the first of many tears, because soon, more followed. And when he looked at me again, my heart ached for him. He looked so exhausted, so broken, I could almost see the inner child in him that just wanted to belong, to be loved, to be cared for.

"I'm s-sorry for treating you like shit," He cries, hanging his head in shame, "I-I'm just so confused and lost and I don't know how to control my anger." He says through tears.

To my surprise, he's the one who hugs me this time. "I-I just feel so worthless. When I was in human trafficking, humanity showed me a new kind of evil, " He sobs, "I just want to die."

"Shhh Colton."

Slowly, I lower him to the floor and just hold him as he shatters. His shards cut me, too, because soon, I am also crying as I listen to his darkest, deepest thoughts. Each time he whispers that he wants to die, it feels as if I'm drowning.

It feels as if I'm drowning because I had no idea how severe and how deep Colton's trauma runs. It would truly be a long road of recovery for the both of us, but for now, all I can do is listen to him and show him the compassion he so desperately needed.

And as I cup the back of his head and hold him against my shoulder, listening to his dying sobs, I whisper a promise into the icy air. It was as if my words weren't my own, but my heart's.

"I will show you what love is like."