A Heart to Trade

Groggy hazel eyes deep with paranoia peeked out from underneath a large white sheet. They were shaded by long blonde lashes, which stretched elegantly out from sleepless half-lids. Heavy black circles sagged beneath Aminri’s eyes, though he felt too restless to try and sleep again. His sleep had been racked with nightmares of blood, pain, and much more, all so realistic seeming that the boy swore he was still in them. Like a small child alone in the darkness of his room, Aminri shielded himself from the madness with his blankets and looked nervously back and forth between corners. Already he had isolated himself in his room for a majority of the day, skipping breakfast and lunch regardless of Claudia’s angry shouts from the hall. He was even too afraid to stand and close the curtains, whose deep blue cloth hung lazily beside the single, small window. The light emitting from the glass was blinding, and right outside it Aminri could hear Harold and Bram’s joyful laughter. The boy sulked bitterly at that, knowing that deep inside he wished that he could join them. That would never happen. Not even on the day I die.

The boy shifted awkwardly beneath the sheets. He had been fighting the urge as best as he could, but the all familiar tension in his bladder was unwavering. In fact, the longer he let it be, the more it grew. Sighing heavily, Aminri threw the blankets off and climbed out of bed, careful to duck low enough out of view of the window. Eyeing the bed stand, he pondered for a moment… Aminri rose slightly and slid the drawer out, retrieving a small pocket knife and his prizes pendant. Again he turned back to the door and nearly crawled to the exit, the wooden floorboards softly creaking under his weight. His small blonde head poked slowly and cautiously out the door. Aminri eyed the empty hall on both sides, contemplating his movements, then ran quickly for the bathroom. A contented sigh echoed off of the tiled walls as the boy relieved himself.

Aminri pulled his nightshirt down and finally realized that, although he was wearing underwear, he failed to wear any pants. He sighed, regretting his obliviousness, and looked up at the cistern attached firmly to the wall above as he reached for the rope. It was dangling from the side of the tank, a wooden handle fixed at the end of it. Aminri pulled on it hard, the toilet flushing loudly in response. The boy waited anxiously in the following silence, but when he heard no reply to the noise, he breathed a sigh of relief and headed towards the door.

But Aminri paused as he saw the silver door handle slowly turning and realized, horror-stricken, that he had forgotten to lock it. And when the door opened, revealing the person behind, Aminri threw himself against the wood, slamming it shut once again. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. “Ari, my love…” Harold said from behind the door, his voice raspy and unusually calm, “If you open the door now, I won’t hurt you as badly as before. I may even give you a treat.”

Aminri shivered at that and instead backed further away from the entrance. Harold tapped his foot loudly, expecting the door to be opened, but instead was greeted with silence. When the older brother pounded furiously on the wood, the boy flinched and reached quickly for the lock. But before he could, the door swung open, slamming into the side of his head. Aminri moaned as he lay in a heap upon the floor, crading his pounding head both defensively and to ease the pain. A deep scowl was carved on Harold’s face as he stood above his crumpled younger brother, his arms sternly crossed. But his scowl faded into one of surprise when he felt a sharp pain, the pain of a cut, and saw the slightly bloodied pocket knife in his younger brother’s hand. Aminri’s trembling was obvious, contrary to the expression of mixed anger, ferocity, and horror on his face. The boy quickly stood, his head still throbbing, and ran to the door. His actions were in vain, as Harold was quick to stop him, tackling him to the floor using all of his strength and subsequently forcing the breath out of Aminri’s lungs. The boy’s eyes widened as he gasped for precious air and attempted to push his brother off of him. Harold took a handful of pale blonde hair and dragged the boy across the bathroom floor into the hall. Aminri screamed in pain as he thrashed about and begged for his brother to spare him. The damage he had done to his brother was nothing; the knife had been quite dull, thus creating only a very minor cut on his arm. “Father!” Aminri screamed, desperate, “Mother! Claudia! Help me!”

But his father had left to go gambling in the city, his step mother was off shopping for a new dress, and Claudia couldn’t care less about what sort of tortures lied in wait for Aminri. Helpless tears streamed down his pale cheeks as the boy was yet again being pulled down into the basement.

~ * ~ * ~

Zane’s movements were graceful as he dodged Howl’s quick and unhesitant fists. His cousin was strong, he would give him that, but he wasn’t thoughtful in his offense and often left openings. Zane punched him straight in the gut as he knocked Howl’s right arm, once charging at his face, into the air. Howl doubled up and fell back onto the ground with a thud. Zane grinned victoriously at his younger cousin and sportingly held a hand out. Howl looked blankly at him for a few moments, then sighed and grinned back at him as Lydia clapped politely in the background. The two men wrestled often in the basement of the Bennington estate, out of view and the knowledge of the duke. Zane’s older sister, Lydia, often sat in a corner watching them intently. “Ugh, I suppose this is what? The third time?” Howl said as he plopped on the chair besides Lydia’s as Zane nodded in reply.

Zane softly chuckled as his cousin hung his head in exaggerated dejection. “You’ll get me some day, Howl.”

Both men looked at Lydia as she suddenly clapped her hands together, a thought coming to her mind. “Zane!” the young women said.

“Yes…?”

“You promised that you’d tell me how everything went when you met…what was his name?”

“Ari,” Zane replied, sure that it didn’t matter if it was his nickname.

“Right, Ari. Anyway, you promised your dear older sister that you’d tell me how it went, didn’t you?”

Zane pulled up a wooden chair and sat beside Lydia. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?” The young woman and Howl looked expectantly at him. “It went well.”

“’It went well?’” Howl quoted.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Zane replied as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Howl shifted towards his cousin, his face showing an expression of dissatisfaction. “That’s it? ‘It went well?’ Surely there’s more of a back story than that.”

“What Howl is most likely trying to ask is if you fucked him,” Lydia said.

Howl gasped in mock horror and disapproval. “That is not the way a lady should speak!”

“Oh, quiet, Howl. Of everyone I know, you must know the best that I’m hardly a lady. But anyway, did you, brother?”

“Yes,” Zane bluntly replied.

Lydia and Howl exchanged glances, though the man was the one to ask, “What was it like?”

“It was wonderful,” Zane chuckled. “One of the best fucks I’ve had in a while. You know, he has quite a lovely face. A very memorable one, indeed.”

“Oh?” Lydia leaned back. “What does he look like?”

“Large hazel eyes and very fair skin. Soft blonde hair. Rosy cheeks. Long lashes.”

“Pink, frilled dress. Sparkly tiara. Loves watching the sunset,” Howl finished for him.

“Oh, shut up,” Zane replied.

“He does sound like a princess,” Lydia commented.

“And a fairy. A perfect match, I suppose!” Howl laughed harder when Zane lightly punched his arm.

“Well, do you like him?” Lydia asked.

“Yes, I suppose I’m rather fond of him.”

“Are you, perhaps, in love?” Howl nudged him gently.

“Tch, no! Yes, he’s pretty, but we’ve only met for a day or two. And besides, from what I’ve seen, he’s hardly used to me. You could go as far as to say he’s scared of me.”

Well, for some reason I’m not surprised… Lydia thought, though she dared not to say it to her brother.

Zane, she thought, was always a very intimidating person to begin with. He had an air of arrogance about him, though it existed in parallel to a string of perpetual logic and an abandoned, renowned military profession. Of course, he was very capable of being a kind and gentle man, but underneath… If anyone ever made him angry enough, and some unfortunate few had, Zane would be keen on exacting revenge. And he would be smart enough to get away with it. “Well,” Zane continued, “He’ll get used to me eventually. I’m sure I’ll get used to him in no time.” The man let out a soft chuckle.

“What about his relatives? Are the Parselles kind?” Lydia inquired.

At this Zane scoffed. “The earl I’m not sure about, but the children are most definitely the most spoiled I’ve ever seen. Especially that…Harold boy. I don’t like him a bit.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Lydia asked as she smoothed her dress.

“There’s just something suspicious about him…something very disturbing.”

“What? It’s not like he’s the living dead,” Howl said, finding his cousin’s commentary odd. “He’s a child, after all.”

“Not at all, Howl. Looking at him, he’s most likely 23 or 24.”

“Well, what’s so bad about him, then?” Lydia asked.

“He asked me odd questions about me and Ari having sex…he seemed jealous about it, too.”

“Maybe he’s a bitter virgin.”

Howl shrugged as Lydia eyed her cousin oddly and as Zane grumbled at his suggestion. “He despises me for no apparent reason. My guess is that he’s jealous.”

“Maybe he’s good friends with him,” Lydia replied.

“Maybe.”

“What exactly is it you’re implying, cousin?” Howl leaned closer towards him, a skeptical expression on his face.

Zane sighed, “I’m not quite sure what I’m thinking either, but there is the possibility…”

The three were silent. “Oh, goodness! How could you think that?” Lydia exclaimed when she realized Zane’s worries.

“It’s a possibility!” Zane retorted.

Howl, still confused, sat on the chair looking strangely at the two. “What? What is it?”

“Zane thinks that this Harold boy has romantic feelings for his brother!”

“What in the—why the hell would you think that?”

“Well, I overheard a conversation between Harold and Ari the other night.”

“What the hell could they have said to make you suspicious of that?” Howl asked, wondering if his cousin had gone insane.

“Harold said something about loving his brother and how he was a whore from down the hall. I was going to go tell Ari something, but I turned straight around when I heard that. Thought I will admit it could’ve been taken out of context. It’s just a thought, alright?” Zane snapped, irritated.

He turned away from his relatives and stared at the far wall. He wondered what the boy was doing at that moment. And, although it wasn’t like him to be so concerned about a boy he knew only for a day, if he was alright.

~ * ~ * ~

Harold stood and returned to his usual stance at the entrance to the storage room. Aminri was lying exhausted on the floor below him, his pants pulled down to his ankles and semen leaking from his hole. The older brother’s friends pulled the helpless boy up and prepared for yet another round of sex, to Aminri’s horror. But his muscles wouldn’t cooperate with him, and he was simply dragged like a rag doll across the floor. “He’s bleeding, Harold,” one of them commented nonchalantly.

The young man took a few steps forwards and took a look at Aminri’s hole. He sighed in contempt, shaking his head. He supposed he would take pity on his brother just this one time. He was becoming rather bored of him, anyway. “I’ll go take him to his room,” he murmured disdainfully. “You two, go on home.”

“What? Come on, now!” the two protested.

“You heard me; go home! You’ll have your fun tomorrow.”

Much like children, the friends pouted and left hesitantly out the door, Harold trailing behind him. As the door was slammed shut, Aminri weakly pulled his pants up to his hips and collapsed on the hard, cold floor. He felt despairingly alone, and he longed to see Zane again. Of course, the man hadn’t exactly been the nicest of them all, and Aminri had even resolved to not love the man. But now that he thought about it, he realized that he needed him… even if he was quite blunt, he was worlds better than the snare Harold had the boy trapped in.

The elder brother entered the room once again, a deep frown on his face. He took one look at his brother and scoffed, combing back his hair with his hand. “Can you stand?” he asked.

Aminri attempted to pull himself up, but as a sharp pain shot through his backside he shook his head. Harold sighed heavily and pulled the boy’s arm over his shoulder. Because he was so light, the young man had hardly any trouble carrying him and in just a few moments Harold was throwing Aminri recklessly onto his bed. Though his brothers handling was rough, the boy was grateful to at least be able to lie on a soft mattress as opposed to hard concrete. The door was slammed shut as Harold left, to Aminri’s relief, and soon the boy found himself waddling to the window. He, with much of a struggle, lifted himself and placed one knee upon sill. The boy gazed out into the darkness of the yard and took in the crisp night air, closing his eyes dreamily. How he wished he could fly. He fantasized of how wonderful the feeling would be, to soar over the Parselle estate, or over the whole world. He ducked his head beneath the window and looked down at the ground so far below him. Inside he could feel himself slowly rotting, and his desire to simply jump was even stronger than it had been the night before. But the same thoughts lead him straight back to the same conclusion. He was still too young, and the Benningtons would always come back. There was still some hope left, no matter how slim they seemed to be.

Aminri turned away from the window and plopped down into a chair beside his desk. His small hands dipped into an ocean of scribbled-on papers, eventually grazing the rigid, rough cover of a journal. Writing in it had become almost an obsession to Aminri, and the fact that he had skipped doing so for two days irritated him. So, for the next hour, he wrote passionately to his heart’s content about everything from the past few days. About his clashing emotions. About his brother. About…

Zane took me a bit by surprise when I first met him… I cannot exactly say what it is about him that intrigues me so. Perhaps it is his nearly enchanting looks, or his almost deviant demeanor, which, I must admit, has seemed to have attracted me…I’m not quite sure why. It is not in my character. Surely, in that moment of sexual approach, I was quite frightened of him. I do miss Zane… I would go as far as to say I long for his touch…

At that the boy ended his entry and closed his journal, sighing softly. He had never really taken a liking to boys before, at least not in the way that Zane had somehow managed to make him do. Aminri had been convinced all his life that he fancied women, but perhaps he’d been tricking himself…

For a moment the boy contemplated continuing to write the story he’d been working on, but shook his head and instead dragged himself back to the bed. It was a silly fantasy novel about dragons and adventures; a story he wrote simply for the sake of passing time. It really meant nothing to him. The boy pulled the sheets over his body and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. That night he slept surprisingly peacefully, comforted by dreams that he could faintly remember involving a pair of blue, calculating eyes the next morning…

Four days, it was, until the Benningtons would return for him.