Hemy
Page 22
He takes a deep breath and squeezes me tighter, resting his chin on my shoulder. His hair brushes over my neck, causing me to shiver in his strong arms. I want to give into him, but I can’t. Damn, this feels so good; too good. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you like you were for me. I just . . . I had to numb myself from the world. I had a constant storm of fucked up memories in my head that consumed me. I can’t change the past, but I can promise you better for the future.”
I can’t help the tear that runs down my face. I still remember Hemy as the broken boy I met ten years ago. He was roaming down the alley behind my house with a group of older boys – all troublemakers. He stopped when he saw me and I couldn’t help but to smile at him. He was the cutest boy I had ever seen and when he smiled back, a warm feeling enveloped me. After that day, I sat behind my house for at least a week waiting for him to walk by again. When he did, he walked over to me and I instantly wrapped him in a hug, surprising him. There was something about him that made me feel like he needed some tender care. I was right. He needed that and much more. After that, we were inseparable.
I let the tear roll down my cheek, being sure that it drips away from Hemy. I don’t want him to know he’s sparking some deep emotions inside of me. I have to be strong.
“Hemy,” I whisper.
“Yeah.” He pulls my hair back and holds it in a ponytail.
“I don’t want to talk about us. Can we just enjoy this bubble bath without me having to hurt you? Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Letting out a small breath, he shifts so he can reach beside him and light the few candles that surround the tub. When his arms release me, a part of me feels dead inside. The feeling scares the shit out of me. I haven’t even spent much time with him and I’m already dreading not being in his arms.
After lighting the candles, he grips my hips and turns me around so that I’m straddling his lap. I grip his shoulders and push away from him as he tangles his hands in my hair. “Hemy,” I warn. “I need to be careful.”
“There is no being careful when it comes to me,” he says confidently. “I’m yours. I always have been. Nothing will ever change that.”
His hands tighten in my hair and he grinds below me, digging his semi hard erection between my legs. The feel of the steel bars, poking me, make me want to jump on his cock and go for a ride – a Hemy ride.
I wrap my legs around his waist and close my eyes as he brushes his lips over my neck and shoulder. Being with him this way feels better than anything I have felt in years. I need a distraction, something to steer my thoughts in another direction.
“Do you still wonder about your sister,” I ask, stopping his kisses. “Are you still looking for her?”
I feel his body tense below me before his arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him. “Every fucking day. It seems no one in Wisconsin is named Sage. Wisconsin was the last place I saw her before I was adopted and my foster parents moved me here to Chicago. I still check in, hoping that maybe she will pop up. No fucking luck. I have even checked anywhere within a few hours of Wisconsin and nothing. My parents were pieces of shits and did this on purpose. They left us in different places, Onyx. They dropped me off an hour away from home and then took off with Sage. I know they dropped her off too. Then they ran. No one has seen them since. They were miserable and wanted to be sure we would be too.”
I take in a gulp of air at the reminder of how Hemy was left alone at such a young age. He lost his whole family; they never even cared to begin with. Sage was the only one he truly had and he couldn’t even protect her from his parents’ harm.
“Do you think you would know Sage if you saw her? I mean how would you know it was her? It’s been ten years and she was so young.”
His eyes go hard as his jaw ticks. He has so many bad memories that I hate even asking this.
“I may not recognize her right away, but I would know if I saw the back of her neck.”
I reach behind his head and wrap my fingers in his hair for comfort. “From when your father burnt her with that pan?”
“Fuck!”
I jump away from his loud outburst, but he grabs me and pulls me back to him.
“I’m sorry.” He grinds his jaw and closes his eyes. “Yes. That happened like two years before I lost her. We were all in the kitchen, waiting for my mother to finish the last bit of dinner. Sage was crying. She was hungry, because we hadn’t eaten in over two days. I tried to comfort her, but she just kept crying and saying Ty, I’m hungry over and over again. Back then I didn’t go by Hemy. My father hated my mother for naming me that. He made me go by my middle name.” He stops and shakes his head. “Anyways. My father got tired of her crying so he picked her up by her arm and dragged her across the kitchen and over to the stove. He grabbed for the pan my mom was cooking on and held it against the back of her neck, smiling as she screamed out in pain.
“When I ran over to help her, my dad took the pan and swung it at my face, hitting me, and causing me to fall back and hit my head on the corner of the counter. I blacked out, and all I remember is waking up to Sage crying and sitting next to me on the kitchen floor while my parents were at the table eating without us. The pan left an odd shaped scar on the back of her neck. I’ll always remember that mark.”
I turn my head away and swipe at the tears as they begin to fall down my face. The thought of Hemy hurting kills me. All of a sudden, all I want to do is go to bed and get the night over with. I can’t think anymore. I want to hold him while I sleep – one last time. Just this one night.
Hemy notices me crying and instantly reaches out to dry my tears. “Don’t cry for my past. It only made me stronger. I may not have been strong four years ago¸ but I promise you now, that I will be the strongest man you know. Taking care of you is what will make me strong; protecting what I love the most in life.”
My heart takes on an odd rhythm as I watch his face. All I see is truth in his words. He’s never told anyone that he loves them, except Sage and although he didn’t exactly come out and say it, it’s the closest thing to it for him. It makes me want to hold onto him and never let him go.
I clear my throat and pull his hands away from my face. “It’s getting really late and I’m tired. Can we just go to bed now?”
He looks my face over before smiling and rubbing under my eyes one last time. “Yeah. Let me put you to bed. It’s late as shit.”
I can’t help the tear that runs down my face. I still remember Hemy as the broken boy I met ten years ago. He was roaming down the alley behind my house with a group of older boys – all troublemakers. He stopped when he saw me and I couldn’t help but to smile at him. He was the cutest boy I had ever seen and when he smiled back, a warm feeling enveloped me. After that day, I sat behind my house for at least a week waiting for him to walk by again. When he did, he walked over to me and I instantly wrapped him in a hug, surprising him. There was something about him that made me feel like he needed some tender care. I was right. He needed that and much more. After that, we were inseparable.
I let the tear roll down my cheek, being sure that it drips away from Hemy. I don’t want him to know he’s sparking some deep emotions inside of me. I have to be strong.
“Hemy,” I whisper.
“Yeah.” He pulls my hair back and holds it in a ponytail.
“I don’t want to talk about us. Can we just enjoy this bubble bath without me having to hurt you? Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Letting out a small breath, he shifts so he can reach beside him and light the few candles that surround the tub. When his arms release me, a part of me feels dead inside. The feeling scares the shit out of me. I haven’t even spent much time with him and I’m already dreading not being in his arms.
After lighting the candles, he grips my hips and turns me around so that I’m straddling his lap. I grip his shoulders and push away from him as he tangles his hands in my hair. “Hemy,” I warn. “I need to be careful.”
“There is no being careful when it comes to me,” he says confidently. “I’m yours. I always have been. Nothing will ever change that.”
His hands tighten in my hair and he grinds below me, digging his semi hard erection between my legs. The feel of the steel bars, poking me, make me want to jump on his cock and go for a ride – a Hemy ride.
I wrap my legs around his waist and close my eyes as he brushes his lips over my neck and shoulder. Being with him this way feels better than anything I have felt in years. I need a distraction, something to steer my thoughts in another direction.
“Do you still wonder about your sister,” I ask, stopping his kisses. “Are you still looking for her?”
I feel his body tense below me before his arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him. “Every fucking day. It seems no one in Wisconsin is named Sage. Wisconsin was the last place I saw her before I was adopted and my foster parents moved me here to Chicago. I still check in, hoping that maybe she will pop up. No fucking luck. I have even checked anywhere within a few hours of Wisconsin and nothing. My parents were pieces of shits and did this on purpose. They left us in different places, Onyx. They dropped me off an hour away from home and then took off with Sage. I know they dropped her off too. Then they ran. No one has seen them since. They were miserable and wanted to be sure we would be too.”
I take in a gulp of air at the reminder of how Hemy was left alone at such a young age. He lost his whole family; they never even cared to begin with. Sage was the only one he truly had and he couldn’t even protect her from his parents’ harm.
“Do you think you would know Sage if you saw her? I mean how would you know it was her? It’s been ten years and she was so young.”
His eyes go hard as his jaw ticks. He has so many bad memories that I hate even asking this.
“I may not recognize her right away, but I would know if I saw the back of her neck.”
I reach behind his head and wrap my fingers in his hair for comfort. “From when your father burnt her with that pan?”
“Fuck!”
I jump away from his loud outburst, but he grabs me and pulls me back to him.
“I’m sorry.” He grinds his jaw and closes his eyes. “Yes. That happened like two years before I lost her. We were all in the kitchen, waiting for my mother to finish the last bit of dinner. Sage was crying. She was hungry, because we hadn’t eaten in over two days. I tried to comfort her, but she just kept crying and saying Ty, I’m hungry over and over again. Back then I didn’t go by Hemy. My father hated my mother for naming me that. He made me go by my middle name.” He stops and shakes his head. “Anyways. My father got tired of her crying so he picked her up by her arm and dragged her across the kitchen and over to the stove. He grabbed for the pan my mom was cooking on and held it against the back of her neck, smiling as she screamed out in pain.
“When I ran over to help her, my dad took the pan and swung it at my face, hitting me, and causing me to fall back and hit my head on the corner of the counter. I blacked out, and all I remember is waking up to Sage crying and sitting next to me on the kitchen floor while my parents were at the table eating without us. The pan left an odd shaped scar on the back of her neck. I’ll always remember that mark.”
I turn my head away and swipe at the tears as they begin to fall down my face. The thought of Hemy hurting kills me. All of a sudden, all I want to do is go to bed and get the night over with. I can’t think anymore. I want to hold him while I sleep – one last time. Just this one night.
Hemy notices me crying and instantly reaches out to dry my tears. “Don’t cry for my past. It only made me stronger. I may not have been strong four years ago¸ but I promise you now, that I will be the strongest man you know. Taking care of you is what will make me strong; protecting what I love the most in life.”
My heart takes on an odd rhythm as I watch his face. All I see is truth in his words. He’s never told anyone that he loves them, except Sage and although he didn’t exactly come out and say it, it’s the closest thing to it for him. It makes me want to hold onto him and never let him go.
I clear my throat and pull his hands away from my face. “It’s getting really late and I’m tired. Can we just go to bed now?”
He looks my face over before smiling and rubbing under my eyes one last time. “Yeah. Let me put you to bed. It’s late as shit.”
