Rentboy

They’re
    trying to put his leg back together. He also has a fractured cheekbone, which was repaired earlier
    today. He’s going to have a fair bit of metal in him by the time he’s done.”
    “Will he…” He could hardly say the words.
    “Oh, he’ll live. He has serious injuries, but it’s you who were in danger of dying, not him. You
    were brought here in the nick of time. I’m going to pull the tube out of your nose now. It will feel
    strange, but don’t worry; I’ll do it quickly. Ready?”
    He wasn’t ready, but she did it so fast he had no time to protest. A horrible pulling sensation
    was followed by the feeling that a worm or something equally gross was slithering up his throat and
    out through his nose, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of panic. He gagged and coughed,
    grabbing at the doctor’s hands.
    “Calm down, Afton. Everything is fine.”
    “Don’t fucking call me Afton. My name’s Fox.” He had no idea why he felt so angry and out of
    control.
    “Fox,” she said. “I’ll write that on your chart. Now I’m going to remove your catheter.”
    “What’s that?”
    She drew down the light blanket and sheet. “It’s in your penis to take the urine. It’s standard
    when you have surgery.” As she spoke, she pulled it out. Again a slithering feeling made his stomach
    muscles tighten, and the end of his cock stung.
    “Are you done fucking around with me?” He really should not be speaking to them like that. He
    was not even conscious when they removed him from the farm, because he had no memory of anything
    but bringing up water and choking.
    “Yes, we’re done. Someone will be in to debrief you soon.” She stood up straight. “All right,
    Fox.” It seemed she had not taken offense at his tone, because she kept hers calm and kind.
    “Debrief? Sounds like the military. Why do I need a debrief?”
    “Everything will be explained.” She indicated a red cord attached to the wall. “That’s a call
    button. Pull it if you need help with anything. Don’t get up without help. You’re still weak.”
    The nurse straightened the bedding, and they both left.
    For a long while he lay alone in the private room. It was really pretty with nice curtains and
    proper armchairs, not his choice in design, which was far more dramatic, but it was nicer than any
    hospital he had ever seen. There were flowers beside the bed. He looked over at the window. The
    curtains were drawn, but the gap between them showed it was night out. Was it the same night, or had
    days gone by?
    Shit! Mum and the twins. Are they all right? Is she feeding them?
    William Baillie’s face filled his head. Fucking bastard. You told them to torture me, you
    fucking bastard. You told them to do it again after I threw up.
    The memory of the towel and the plastic bin bag brought panic rising up in his chest again. He
    sat upright, gasping for air, but he felt so weak. His back hurt; his chest hurt.
    “Shall I fetch a nurse?” A slim, tallish man in a well-tailored suit watched him from the door.
    “I’m all right. You are a doctor?”
    “No.” The man closed the door and pulled a chair up to the bed. “My name is Stephen Conran. I
    need to talk to you about what happened.”
    “I’m really worried about my mum and my sister and brother. Mum can’t look after them
    properly. She drinks.”
    “Someone has already been over to your home to tell Mrs. Baillie where you are. She seemed to
    be coping quite well, though they did say she had been drinking. I’ll send someone over there again to
    check on your siblings. Don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine.”
    Another whoosh of memory came back. It was as if everything that led up to this moment had
    been wiped away in the fear of his near-death experience. The towel and the bin bag were like a
    rebirth of some sort. Like everything before it was a dream. “Oh, I remember now. Everything is such
    a blur when you think you’re going to die. You forget things because they don’t seem important
    anymore. All that matters is being alive and being able to breathe.”
    Conran nodded as if he understood completely. He had really nice eyes, a pale blue. Not the
    startling blue eyes the big bloke had. “Who were those dudes who shot everyone? The young one with
    the American accent and the big bloke?”
    “Don’t worry about them. They did their job.”
    “But I want to give them a big kiss.”
    Conran gave a little laugh. “I’ll pass that on.”
    “Can