Poetic Justice

Orli’s eyes flew open as a cry tore through his raw throat. Pain shooting through his body broke the dark spell of nightmare and made reality no less frightening. Panting he stared at the pale walls and inhaled the sterile scent of ammonia, and after a second a choked sound made him curl up as he fell back, hugging his knees to his chest.

Viggo entered the room, a cup of coffee in one hand. The sound of torn sobs startled him, and he dropped the Styrofoam cup and rushed to the bed. “It’s okay, Orli. It’s okay.” He touched the younger man’s shoulder, and the cry of fear and recoiling made him retreat in helplessness. “Orli, it’s Viggo.” He wanted to comfort his friend, but had no idea how to do it without touching him, which was very unwanted at the moment.

Both hands gripping his hair as though ready to rip it out as he helplessly stared about the room he paused. Slowly and softly he began to sing, a song the Fellowship had sung together during the filming of the Lord of The Rings. It was working, the heart wrenching sobs softening to sniffles and hiccoughing little whimpers. Finally Orli lay curled and watching him from eyes Viggo barely recognized. He sat, and offered a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” he softly greeted. “Guess lunch will be whatever the cafeteria boils, huh?”

There was a slight twitching of one cracked corner of the younger man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t leave you, but I needed a coffee, and something to eat.” Viggo reached for the call button to summon a nurse. “Other than that I’ve been here since sometime during the night.”

Those eyes still gazed hopefully at him, and it tore at the older man’s heart. “It hurts,” the croaked whisper was hoarse and painful, and a tear spilled free.

“Oh God, I know,” Viggo reached out, hesitated, and let his hand drop back down. He leaned forward to show support and comfort. “I wish I could just take you out of here, rock you in my arms, and make it all go away.”

The swollen and split bottom lip trembled. “I wish that too.”

“I wish this had never happened to you, Orli. I wish it was me instead so you wouldn’t have to be here like this.” He leaned a little closer.

“No…”

“But it’s not, and all I can do is be here for you. You understand me? I’m here for you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” A little closer, and Viggo lay his head down on the bed. His face was inches from Orli’s. He didn’t touch him in any way. “So it’s okay now. You’re safe now. I’m here, and no one will hurt you again.”

A scraped and bruised hand shakily rose, hesitated, and fell on Viggo’s dear face. It pushed up into the golden-brown hair and gripped at it. “Oh God, Vig, I was so scared! He said he’d kill me.”

“Shhh,” Viggo soothed, still not touching him at all. “It’s over. It’s all over.”

“No, it’s not.” Orli swallowed convulsively, shut his eyes, but they quickly flew open again. “I see him. I smell him. I feel him. He likes it when it hurts. He likes it when I cry out, and I can’t help crying out. He keeps calling me ‘Pretty Boy’ and telling me how when he’s done with me I’ll never be pretty again.”

Teeth gritting Viggo wants to yank away and punch a wall since the monstrous sonovabitch isn’t around to take the beating. But he doesn’t move, he remains where he is, holding that rage deep inside so it doesn’t frighten Orli.

“I’m afraid to shut my eyes because I can still see him. I want to take a shower and wash him off me. I want… I don’t want to do this. I wish he’d just killed me, but he hurt me the worst when he left me alive.”

“If he’d killed you he would have won,” Viggo desperately told him. “Don’t let him win, Orli. Don’t give him that pleasure. You’re not alone, and I’ll be with you to make sure you survive this. Understand me? You will survive this, and you’ll heal, and he’ll go to hell where he should be. I’ll make sure of that.”

Orlando’s forehead touched Viggo’s, and he sniffed. “I’m so scared,” he brokenly whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Listen to me,” Viggo stressed. “You won’t do it alone. I will not leave you, and I’ll help you through this. I want this monster to pay for this.”

A few more convulsive swallows, and then Orli sighed. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“That’s my boy,” Viggo smiled in support. The death-grip Orli had had on his hair eased, and the young Brit rolled away and lay exhausted.

A nurse entered. “Mr. Bloom, how are you today?” She paused when she saw the puddle of coffee.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Viggo offered her a smile. He stood up. “Orli, I’ll be right back. I’ll just be down the hall getting another coffee. You want something?”

Orlando’s brow furrowed a moment. “Coffee sounds good. Double-double.”

The nurse sidestepped the spilled coffee and checked Orlando’s vitals. It was difficult for him to let her touch him, but he kept silently repeating to himself she was a nurse doing her job. Once she was done he breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing at his arm where her touch had been, trying to wipe it away. If only he could do that with his attacker’s residual touch.