Simon's P.O.V.
The hospitals didn't usually treat property. That was what they were considered in our society, and the looks Vikk and I got when we waltzed in with two injured slaves were... stinging to say the least. The staff treated Lachlan and Mitch, we had the money and status, but it was very reluctant. I stayed with both boys just in case their prejudice turned into actual mistreatment.
Lachlan returned to full consciousness after about an hour, blinking confusedly at the IV drip in his arm, looking quite dazed. Even with a shirt on I could still see the yellowish-purple bruising that encircled his neck, handprints evident in his skin. One of his eyes was slightly swollen and he struggled to open it.
"Si?" He slurred, and my heart jumped practically into my throat. This was one of the first times I had heard him speak- the first time he had ever said my name. It had only ever been yes or no. "Wha-at?"
"Hey, hey, I know, it's okay. I know it hurts but you're in hospital, you're safe. Josh isn't here. You're safe, you're safe." I reached out and brushed his hair from his forehead, squeezing one hand gently. He groaned deep in the back of his throat, face pinched with pain. "Here, I'll get the nurse."
This nurse was a new one and although she looked apprehensive at first, she checked him over gently and approved a higher dose of pain medication which made him relax nearly instantly.
"Better?"
"Yeah." He croaked, turning away from me to cough. "Thank you."
He settled back into an uneasy sleep not long after and I turned my attention to the other boy in the bed opposite, still unconscious, hand clutched into Jerome's grip so tightly I was scared the other might hurt him. In this light, it only made his injuries more obvious and more painful. The scarring was the worst.
In the environment I had seen him in before, almost always in the dark, the injuries weren't obvious. Here, there was no way to hide it. The bruising was the most obvious, covering his arms and neck and face, purple and yellow and blue- it was green in some places. It looked painful. But the scarring, the scarring made my heart ache. It was everywhere, many of it years old. The only thing I could think was how Josh was a sadistic bitch and I hated him for what he did to the brunette boy under the same roof I was living under.
"Anything?" I asked Jerome, rubbing his shoulder. He shook his head. It seemed to be a thing, probably from their training, but none of the boys spoke. Even though I had been around Preston for maybe half an hour before Vikk took him and Rob to a hotel, I had heard the most from him- a single sentence. He had asked if Mitch and Lachlan would be okay. "Hopefully he'll wake up soon, then we might be able to get out of here."
I took a final glance at Mitch before going to sit back down. What were we going to do?
-------------------------------------------
I hadn't originally planned on using the passports. I had taken them as a last thought, in case Josh decided to try and chase after us, hunting what he believed to be his property down. I couldn't let that happen. In the end, Vikk and I discussed our options with the others and decided that to start again, we had to leave the country.
So we did. Once Lachlan and Mitch were healthy enough to travel we took a plane to a place where slavery was slowly filtering out of the public eye. It still happened obviously, but it was less accepted by the public. There was no defining physical attribute to define a slave from anyone else. You were simply... a person. The way it should be.
Obviously it wasn't as simple as packing up and leaving, and Vikk and I had to find new jobs in order to support our little family of seven. Rob, Preston and Jerome may have had the physical ability to work, but their pay would have been minimal for long hours and back-breaking labour. It simply wasn't worth it. Instead, they stayed at our small home and looked after each other.
"Can one of you go grocery shopping today?" Rob asked me, eyes scanning the considerably bare cupboards. We hadn't gone in almost two weeks and he was having difficultly meal planning with no food or direction.
"Sure!" Vikk said, swinging his legs from the barstool. "Just write down anything you need, I'll go this afternoon."
It was like this often. Peaceful, blissful domestic life, attempting to forget the past back when it wasn't like this. It was nice but at the same time I knew we couldn't ignore it forever, or for much longer at all. Mitch was physically disabled from everything he had been through, sometimes unable to walk, everyone had some severity of PTSD. We could pretend for as long as we wanted, but I knew it was going to hit everyone eventually.
Lachlan came to sit beside me, resting his head on my shoulder and closing his eyes. Mitch was sitting in Jerome's lap, both looking content and happy. Preston swung his legs from the barstool. Rob leaned against the bench, singing under his breath to whatever was on the radio.
Vikk and I shared a contented look. I was satisfied with where we were at, for now at least. It probably wouldn't stay like this but if we could keep it up then it would be alright. It was a new life, after all. It was a bit of a roller-coaster.
