Page 25 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Zeeb’s face was a mask of horror and sympathy.

“What a place to find that out.”

Nate’s throat was tight, and he took a mouthful of water.

“I was fourteen. And it coincided with my visit home.” He snorted.

“That was some visit. The guy in charge of Sanctuary Hill—that was what they called it—wrote a report to my dad. And they’d been watching.

Analyzing every single thing I did.” He tried to swallow.

“I can still hear his voice in my head.”

“You act on your ‘feelings’ and you’ll never set foot in this house again.”

A wave of exhaustion crashed over Nate, and he sagged into the chair.

“God, I’m tired.” He was done talking.

“Did you get much sleep before you left home to come back here?”

Nate huffed. “Not enough, obviously.”

“Hey, we don’t need to do this now. You’ve had a rough day. Maybe you should have an early night.” Zeeb’s soft voice washed over him in a gentle tide.

What rose unbidden in Nate’s mind was a single stark thought.

I don’t want to be alone tonight.

“Do… do you have to go back to the bunkhouse?” Nate’s heartbeat raced. “I mean…could you stay here tonight?”

Zeeb stilled, and the air seemed charged again. “I can sleep on the couch if that’s okay. As long as I let ’em know where I am.” He retook Nate’s hand. “Think we can continue this conversation in the morning? ’Cause talk is good, and you’ve kept all this bottled up for a long time.”

Nate expelled a long, shuddering breath. “You’re right. Talking is good, and there’s so much more I want to share with you. But right now I want to close my eyes and shut out the world, at least for a while.”

Zeeb stood. “Then let me run back to the bunkhouse and tell Butch so he knows what’s going on. If you look in the closet, you’ll find clean sheets and a spare pillow. Grab ’em for me?”

“Will you be okay on the couch?”

He snorted. “There ain’t a flat surface in existence that I can’t fall asleep on. I won’t be long.”

When he didn’t move, Nate smiled. “I’m not going to fall apart while you’re gone. I might even make some hot chocolate.” If he could stand without his legs giving way. The fatigue that made his eyelids heavy was working its way down his body, crawling through him.

Zeeb’s eyes twinkled. “ Now you’re talkin’.” He picked up the bag and the remains of their supper. “Back in a sec.” Then he stepped off the porch and disappeared around the side of the cabin.

Nate closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the breeze rustling through the trees, the calming sound of the creek, the hoot of an owl. He could tell from Zeeb’s inquiring glance that his last confession had been a shock, but Nate didn’t have the spoons for more revelations.

Tomorrow. It can wait until tomorrow.

Zeeb deposited the bag in the bunkhouse kitchen, then grabbed a couple of apples and some cookies.

We didn’t eat all that much. Which meant a case of the munchies was likely.

“He okay?” Butch leaned against the door frame.

Zeeb let out a sigh. “He will be.” He scowled. “That boy has crawled through fire, and then some.”

“He ain’t a boy,” Butch remarked. “In fact, he’s only a few years younger than Walt.”

“Old enough to have been through shit no livin’ soul should be subjected to.” Zeeb reached into his pocket for the keys to his truck. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch in the cabin tonight. I need to keep an eye on Nate.”

Butch folded his arms. “He that fragile?”

Zeeb pushed out a breath. “Hell, he’s tougher than I gave him credit for. But yesterday took a chunk outta him, and sharin’ it all took another big bite.” He raised his chin and met Butch’s gaze. “He asked me to stay. What does that tell you?”

Butch bit his lip. “That you’re doin’ the right thing.”

“But you can give Sol a message for me. Tell him his theory was on the money.”

“Was it a good theory?” Butch shrugged. “Only askin’ because he’s said nothing to me.”

Zeeb was relieved to hear that. Sol was a professional.

He scowled. “Hell no. It was a kind of worst-case scenario, and he nailed it.”

Butch’s face fell. “Aw fuck.”

“Yeah, that was my reaction.” Zeeb slipped past Butch to go over to his bunk and grab some clean clothes for the morning. Then he went into the bathroom to pack up his toothbrush and toothpaste.

When he returned, he glanced around the empty bunkhouse. “Where is everyone?”

“Walt and Teague took ’em out to check on the herd. Couple of wolves sneakin’ around, and they wanted to go with.” Butch cocked his head to one side. “Nate’s gotten under your skin, hasn’t he?”

Zeeb huffed. “Didn’t take long for him to do that. But after spending a week with him?” He stuffed his shorts into a bag. “I wanna know more. I wanna know the man underneath all that… trauma.”

Now he knew the truth, trauma was an apt description. And he had a feeling Nate was worth knowing.

Make it stop. Someone make it stop.

Nate sat rigid in the cold metal chair, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palms. The walls of the small, windowless room closed in around him, the air thick with the sterile scent of disinfectant.

The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead was a constant, grating noise that never seemed to go away.

It buzzed inside his skull, mixing with the pounding of his heartbeat.

Dr. Keller sat across from him, his posture as stiff and calculated as always. His eyes, dark and unreadable, studied Nate as though he were a specimen under a microscope. There was no warmth in his expression, no kindness in his voice.

Nothing but purpose.

“Nathaniel.” His voice was like the scrape of a scalpel against bone. “We’ve reached a crucial point in your treatment.”

Nate swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to listen.

He had no choice.

“You’ve made progress,” Dr. Keller continued, tapping the file on his desk with a long finger. “You’ve admitted your feelings are unnatural. That they’re wrong. But it’s not enough to know it, Nathaniel.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “You have to believe it.”

Nate’s fingers tightened around each other, his knuckles bone white.

Dr. Keller pressed a button under the lip of the desk, and the door opened. Two counselors stepped inside, their faces blank, detached.

Aw crap. Nate recognized them, and all of a sudden his stomach twisted.

He knew what was coming.

Mr. Fletcher carried a small metal box. Mrs. Reed stood with her arms crossed, her presence a silent warning.

Does everyone who works here have eyes like ice? Was that part of why they were chosen?

Dr. Keller unlocked the box with slow precision, as if savoring the moment. He removed a thick rubber band and set it on the desk in front of Nate.

“Put it on your wrist,” he instructed.

Nate hesitated, his breathing shallow.

Dr. Keller’s eyes darkened. “Now.”

Nate picked up the rubber band with a shaking hand and slid it over his wrist.

“Good,” Dr. Keller murmured, leaning back in his chair. “Now, close your eyes.”

Nate obeyed, although every instinct screamed at him not to.

“Picture a man.” Dr. Keller’s voice was smooth, clinical. “A strong, handsome man. The kind that might tempt you.”

A lump formed in Nate’s throat. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, his whole body tense. Don’t. Don’t.

“You feel something, don’t you?”

Nate shook his head, except he knew that wouldn’t stop the doctor.

“Snap the band,” Dr. Keller ordered.

Nate’s fingers trembled as he tugged the band back and let it go. A sharp sting bit into his skin, but it was nothing compared to the shame that burrowed deep inside him.

“Again,” Dr. Keller commanded. “Every time you feel that way, you correct it. You train yourself. Pain is the only way to cleanse the mind of filth.”

Nate bit down on his lip and snapped the band again. Harder. The sting spread like fire under his skin.

“Good boy,” Dr. Keller murmured. “Now, let’s try something else. Open your eyes.”

Warily, Nate did as instructed. Dr. Keller reached into the box once more and pulled out a stack of photographs. He spread them across the desk like a hand of playing cards.

They were pictures of women, beautiful, delicate, their smiles bright and inviting.

“These are the cure.” Dr. Keller tapped the images.

Nate’s hands curled into fists in his lap.

“Take one,” Dr. Keller instructed.

Nate hesitated, and Mr. Fletcher stepped closer.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Nate reached forward and picked up a photo at random.

The girl in the picture had soft blonde hair, her eyes warm, her lips curled into a perfect smile.

He tried to focus on her. On the way she was supposed to make him feel.

“Now,” Dr. Keller said, “I want you to say, ‘This is what I want.’”

Nate’s mouth was dry as sand.

Dr. Keller’s voice hardened. “Say it.”

The words stuck in his throat.

Mrs. Reed sighed. “He’s still resisting.”

Dr. Keller steepled his fingers, studying Nate in silence before nodding to Mr. Fletcher.

Nate had no time to brace himself before the counselor’s heavy hands gripped his shoulders, yanking him out of the chair. His stomach plummeted as he was shoved onto his knees on the cold, hard floor.

Dr. Keller crouched in front of him, leveling his gaze. “You don’t want to stay sick, do you, Nathaniel?”

Nate’s breathing was shallow, ragged. He shook his head, even though every part of him screamed that this was wrong, that he wasn’t wrong.

Dr. Keller picked up one of the photos and held it in front of Nate’s face. “This is what’s right. This is what’s normal. You will be normal. Do you understand me?”

Nate’s vision blurred. He could hardly see the image anymore, but he knew the answer they wanted.

“Yes,” he choked out.

Dr. Keller’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Say it.”

“I… I want this.”

The words felt like poison on his tongue.

Dr. Keller patted Nate’s cheek, almost affectionately. “Good boy.”

Nate remained on his knees as the session continued, his mind fracturing with each passing moment. They made him repeat the words. Again and again. Until his voice was hoarse.

Until he didn’t recognize himself anymore.

By the time he was dismissed, Nate could barely stand.

His knees wobbled as he stumbled back to his dorm, his wrist raw from the rubber band, his mind a tangled mess of shame, fear, and exhaustion.

He collapsed onto the thin mattress, curling into himself.

He’d said the words. He’d done what they asked.

But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much they punished him, one thing remained the same.

The feelings didn’t go away.

And deep down, no matter how much they tried to erase him, he knew the truth.

He would never be cured.

“No!” Nate sat upright, his chest damp with sweat, clutching the sheet. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, snapped the lamp on, and sat there trembling, his hands dangling between his knees. A waft of cool night air through the open window above his head only made him shiver harder.

He stiffened at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Then he remembered.

I’m not alone.

“You okay, Nate?” Zeeb’s voice was low and rough with sleep. He stood at the foot of the bed, bleary-eyed, wearing a pair of shorts, his hair rumpled. His expression shifted from confusion to concern. “No, you’re not okay, are ya?”

Nate swallowed. His throat still burned from the dream-screams that hadn’t made it out.

“I… had a nightmare,” he rasped. His fingers twisted in the sheet once more. He averted his gaze. “From… back then.”

Zeeb stepped closer, and the silence between them was soft.

Nate picked at a loose thread on the sheet’s hem. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, at any rate. Maybe in daylight.”

When the sun would rob his memories of terror.

Zeeb’s mouth tightened, and Nate knew instinctively that anger wasn’t directed at him, but at whatever images he saw in his head. He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry, Nate,” Zeeb said in a quiet voice. “No kid shoulda gone through that. No one.”

Nate blinked fast. His throat ached.

“I couldn’t wake up,” he whispered. “I knew it was a dream, and I still couldn’t get out.”

Zeeb nodded, his expression steady, grounding. “That’s what trauma does. It traps you, even when you’re safe. It’s not your fault.”

For a moment, Nate concentrated on breathing in and out, ragged, broken breaths, but breaths all the same. Zeeb didn’t push. He just sat there, a solid, real thing Nate could hold onto in a world that still tilted sometimes without warning.

Finally Zeeb sighed. “Lie down.”

Nate slid under the sheet, and to his surprise, Zeeb got onto the bed, lying on top of the covers. “I’m gonna stay with you until you fall asleep,” he announced, his voice warm but casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Nate hesitated, a battle of pride, shame, and fear taking place within him. In the end, he nodded.

“You sure you don’t mind?” he croaked.

Zeeb gave a tired chuckle. “Mind? I’m honored. You’re letting me help. That’s huge, Nate.” He put his arm over Nate’s waist, his body a warm, welcome weight spooned around him. Nate hesitated for a moment, then covered Zeeb’s hand with his.

The cabin creaked and whispered around them, but the nightmare stayed gone.

For the first time ever, Nate drifted off into sleep, not alone, but anchored.

Tethered to something solid in the dark.