Death might not want you, but I do

(Trigger warning: abuse)

It was agony to breath, but he could not stop himself from sobbing. Kai had fallen in a broken pile of mistreated limbs, unable to escape the relentless fists of his boyfriend, which had landed heavy blows to bruise his pale skin.

Usually Jackson left his face, but tonight Kai knew his left eye was blackening to a deeper purple than even his best make up could conceal. Long minutes had passed since Jackson had left, screaming abuse to ensure Kai knew he was worthless, a waste of space, so abominable that he deserved every ounce of pain, yet Kai found himself unable to move from the place he had fallen on the kitchen floor.

He’d known as soon as Jackson had arrived home earlier that afternoon… he’d known how this night would end. Still, he’d tried in vain to keep the peace, to keep Jackson’s fragile temper intact. A misstep over dinner had been his downfall.

“What do you want for tea?” Kai had asked tentatively as he’d moved towards the fridge, fully prepared to make Jackson anything he’d wanted, anything to keep him calm.

“What do you want?” Jackson had replied, there had been an edge to his voice that warned Kai of the questions loaded nature.

“I don’t mind… I want what you want,” Kai had stammered.

Before he’d even finished his sentence he knew he’d fucked up. He always fucked up.

“You are so fucking useless,” Jackson had bellowed, the sheer volume of his angered voice enough to force Kai into a quivering ball of regret and fear.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Kai chanted in a voice choked with panic. He held his hands before him in a gesture of surrender as Jackson approached, crossing the kitchen with two heavy strides.

“You can’t even make a simple decision. You’re pathetic,” Jackson spat, he punctuated his sentence with a slap across the face, followed by a closed fist to the stomach, “do I have to do everything for you!”.

Kai felt the air leave his lungs and a familiar thought entered his head, this is it, he’ll kill me this time.

But while Death looked on, staring down at Kai as Jackson’s fists, then his feet, left forceful patterns of bruises and cuts across his defenceless form, he never offered his hand. Though Kai longed to take it.

Help me, Kai had pleaded, end it.

But even Death turned his back.

After what felt like eternity Jackson had grown bored, added one final kick and stepped back. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist, spreading Kai’s blood across his skin. Giving Kai one last look of pure disgust Jackson left the apartment. 

Now that he was alone, with just his growing sense of shame for company, Kai let himself cry. Huge wracking sobs shook his broken body, and it hurt. A cracked rib, not his first. Kai felt embarrassed by his tears, maybe Jackson was right. Maybe he was pathetic, maybe he was useless. And maybe broken bones were the price he had to pay to be loved. Blinking away his tears he reached for his phone, which had fallen from his pocket, curtesy of one of Jackson’s blows. It lay a meter away atop a smeared red stain on the tiles.

Reaching out his hand Kai saw how his fingers were shaking. He forced them to close around the phone and pulled it back towards him. Clutching it to his chest he struggled to a sitting position, propping his tender spine against the cupboards. Holding the phone in front of him Kai’s quivering fingers hovered over the buttons. One particular number called to him, begging to be pressed three times.

That was all it would take.

Tell someone! His brain screamed.

Kai’s index finger caressed the rounded zero. Once… twice… 

No. 

Changing his mind Kai dialled the same number he always did. Rommy picked up on the fifth ring, the noise of the bar in the background was louder than his slow drawl, “make it snappy, I haven’t got all day.”

Rommy’s ability to drag out the last syllable of a sentence was an unusual comfort to Kai, who drew from the sound enough strength to speak without the quaver threatening his voice.

“Rommy, it’s Kai.”

“Hey girl, aren’t you meant to be here for close?” Rommy questioned, having to pause the conversation to deal with a rowdy customer, “alright, alright, I heard you the first time, you impatient twat!” returning to the phone Rommy mumbled so only Kai could hear, “straight people, hey, think the world revolves around them just because they can pop out a kid.”

Kai tried to keep the conversation to the point, “listen Rom, I can’t come in, can you ask Izzy to cover my shift? I’m… I’m not feeling well… I’ve… I’ve got a… headache.”

“Look queen, I’ve gotta go, this bachelorette party is driving me nuts,” Rommy stated, Kai could hear the clinking of glasses and knew Rommy currently had the phone wedged between his boney shoulder and ear as he tried to pour the girls’ drinks. His attention, less than half on what Kai was saying.

In desperation Kai persisted, “Romeo, did you hear what I said?”

“Keep your panties on,” Rommy stated, Kai could practically see him roll his eyes, “tell Izzy your head hurts, I got it. Now piss off and let me do my job. Love you.”

The click of the phone sounded in his ear before Kai even had a chance to reply. Maybe he would have told Rommy what had happened, maybe he could have asked for help.

But Kai knew that wasn’t the case.

Instead he pushed himself up from the floor and moved to clean up the blood before Jackson got home.

At the bar Rommy was pushing a tray of freshly poured cocktails towards an ignorant bachelorette when Izzy returned from his smoke break. 

“What’d I miss?” Izzy asked as he filled the space to Rommy’s right and began serving customers.

“Kai called,” Rommy explained, “bitch says she has a headache.”

“Again!” Izzy sighed, “and let me guess, she wants me to cover her shift?”

Rommy shrugged, “that’s what she said.”

Izzy mumbled into his hands and he pulled them down his face in frustration, “that’s the third close she’s missed this month.”

“You don’t have to tell me that girl,” Rommy replied, flicking a hand in Izzy’s direction to emphasise his sassy tone, “I’m the only one who’s here enough to answer the phone!”

“Oh no you didn’t!” Izzy screamed with laughter, almost spilling the beer he was pouring all over himself.

“Oh yes I did,” Rommy replied, “you smoke enough to make a fire jealous!”

“You rotted whore!” Izzy countered, the large smile freezing in place when he looked up to find himself staring directly into the dark eyes of Jackson, who was already seated at the bar.

A cough of surprise threatened to rise in Izzy’s throat and he felt his own pulse quicken when he saw the almost animalistic look on Jackson’s face, his incisors gleaming predatorily under the bars lights.

Izzy managed to choke out a friendly greeting, “hi!” 

Jackson replied in a similar fashion and was quick to place his drink order.

“Where’s Kai?” Izzy asked innocently as he began to fill Jackson’s glass, “she’s meant to be working tonight.”

The slight startled expression that crossed Jackson’s face would have easily been missed if Izzy had not been looking to gauge his reaction.

“Kai’s not feeling well, something he ate,” Jackson recovered quickly, “in fact that’s why I’m here, he sent me to tell you he won’t be able to make his shift.”

Beside him, Izzy could tell Rommy was listening in.

“Here you go,” Izzy stated, holding out the beer just far enough to make Jackson reach for it. As he did so the sleeve of his jacket moved up slightly, revealing the bruising across his knuckles.

Izzy managed to keep his face perfectly impassive as he accepted Jackson’s offered twenty and went about getting his change. When he was done he slapped his hands down on the bar and announced, “time for a ciggy.”

On his way past Rommy, Izzy paused to whisper in his ear, “if he leaves, tell me.”

Rommy nodded to show he understood before he turned his attention back to the impatient customers, all groaning at the loss of bartender.

Izzy forced himself to walk the whole way to the bar’s back door but once it was safely closed behind him, he ran.

There was no reply when Izzy knocked on Kai’s apartment door. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he knocked louder. Still nothing. Fearing the worst, Izzy tentatively tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. 

“Kai?” he tried to call out as he slowly opened the door but his throat constricted around his nerves, and his voice came out as little more than a whisper.

Izzy took two steps into the apartment and found himself in a seemingly perfect lounge room. Not a scrap of furniture was out of place. If it wasn’t for the half empty can of beer on the coffee table beside a recliner Izzy would have found it hard to believe anyone used the room at all. It certainly didn’t portray any foreboding sign of what Izzy knew had happened here.

“Kai?” he tried again, this time mustering the courage to speak slightly louder, “it’s Izzy.”

A muffled sob came from the direction of the kitchen. Izzy moved towards the doorway, where bright yellow light streamed its way across the shadows of the lounge room. As Izzy rounded the corner his sympathetic eyes locked with Kai’s, full of panic and fear. Kai was stooped over a bucket, rag in hand as he mopped desperately at a patch of pink, diluted blood. His singlet had ripped to reveal the skin of his torso. Every inch a patchwork of purple, black and blue. The right side of his pretty face was swollen, a cut on his cheek dripping blood onto the freshly wiped floor, a sign that it would never again be clean. 

And neither would he. While his bruises would fade and his cuts would heal, Kai’s heart would forever be stained by the shape of Jackson’s fist.

“Iz… Izzy,” Kai stammered, “it’s not what you think.”

Izzy stepped into the artificial light of the kitchen, moving slowly he came to squat on the floor before his colleague. He knew he’d seen something Kai hadn’t wanted to show, that he’d somehow exposed a part of Kai that he longed to forever keep hidden. It was a big secret for someone who you only spoke to at work.

“Kai…” Izzy said gently.

And that was all it took. Kai felt himself consumed by his own self-loathing as fresh tears rose to the surface and poured their way down his wounded cheeks.

“How did I let it get like this?” he asked, beginning to cry into his hands, “why did I let it go this far?”

Izzy wasn’t sure what to do. He reached out hesitantly, his hand moving to grasp Kai’s shoulder. But stopped. Being touched was probably the last think Kai would find comforting. As he replaced his hand on his own knee, refraining from offering Kai any form of physical comfort, Izzy was surprised when Kai blindly reached out. With a fistful of Izzy’s shirt Kai pull their bodies closer, Izzy sought for his eyes but he kept his gaze firmly on the floor. 

Izzy allowed Kai to cling to him, allowed himself to be wrapped in bruised arms. And he held him back, feeling Kai’s despairing tears dampen the fabric of his shirt. Izzy wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, in an awkward, desperate huddle. Long enough for his blood to stop circulating to his feet.

In his back pocket Izzy’s phone vibrated. He knew without looking that it was Rommy, warning him that Jackson had left the building. He could be on his way this very second. Cautiously Izzy removed himself from Kai’s clutching embrace. His legs protested as he attempted to straighten them. 

“Come on Mama,” Izzy encouraged, looking down at Kai who was still in a mess of limbs on the tiles, “it’s time to go.”

With a quivering bottom lip Kai regarded the man before him. He couldn’t help but remember who had, not long ago, stood in his place. But while Jackson had inflicted pain and hurt, Izzy promised hope and a new beginning. He was the help Kai had been asking for.

So it wasn’t Death, but Izzy, who offered Kai a hand to pull himself up off the floor.