Bad Life

“Matt! Matt… come here.”
Bound to the chair, I called out to him. Matt, crouched in the corner hiding his hands, lifted his head. I remembered how handsome he once was—white skin freckled faintly, cheeks that now bruised and mottled; his tangled red curls once so cute. His bright sky-blue eyes, now dulled and vacant, once gleamed with liveliness and cockiness.
The charming, spirited youth I’d been drawn to was gone. In his place stood a wounded young man, schooled in hatred, burning with murderous intent toward me. I could no longer rescue him—but he could yet save me.
“Come here,” I urged again.
“…”
Perhaps frightened by George’s earlier threats, Matt didn’t move, glancing toward the door. He remained huddled and silent for a long time. Only when enough time had passed for me to be certain George wouldn’t return did Matt stagger upright. He hid his right hand behind his back and took unsteady steps toward me. Each time he came closer, anger flickered in his eyes like a flame. Before he could lose his mind again and grab the tripod, I spoke quickly.
“Matt, who punished you?”
I pressed him as he remained silent.
“What happened? Didn’t Jerome protect you?”
Matt halted mid-step, freezing a few paces away, his lips trembling.
“Simon… Simon punished me. I—I… Jerome… Jerome hasn’t yet… I don’t know if he even knows.”
Simon cut off his fingers! A chill ran down my spine. Ever since I’d shown affection for Matt, Simon had hated him. Simon despised anyone who favored me, except the top-floor boys. He even drugged James to rape me, all to punish him. Thinking of James brought tears to my eyes again.
But now was not the time for Simon. Jerome must have had his reasons for leaving Matt alive so far. From Laborham onward, he’d been using Matt to play some game with me—just Jerome and me, without Simon or George. I needed to discover what that game was. To do that, I had to provoke Matt, and use him as our only means of escape.
“Really? He didn’t even come to see you? Jerome said he’d get revenge on Simon?”
Matt’s eyes filled with tears.
“I—I don’t know… I don’t know. Jerome didn’t come to see me…”
“Why would he? Jerome’s your lover. Why didn’t he come for you?”
Why hadn’t he? I racked my brain. Why didn’t Jerome come for Matt, even though he was unjustly punished? Because Jerome was coming for me. Why? Because Jerome loved ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ me. Then who was Jerome’s true partner? Raymond. I was Jerome’s lover.
I watched Matt’s tears drip down. Maybe Jerome, like at Bluebell, had wagered on me—to keep a pliable assistant like Matt close, ready to persuade him to escape at any moment, and only then start the hunt. I wasn’t sure if that was right, but in this situation, only Matt could help me.
“That’s odd. I met Jerome.”
“Huh… where? Jerome came here?”
“Yes. Even though you’re here, Jerome didn’t see you… he came to find me?”
Jealousy sparked in Matt’s eyes.
“What are you saying?”
His sharp voice reminded me of the first time I met him—the arrogant youth in the motel, whining for cream-topped waffles, looking down on me. A bitter smile touched my lips. Matt could never be that boy again. I straightened my chin, suppressing pity. Whether Matt’s foolishness led him to death or not, nothing was more urgent now than escaping this moment.
“What do you mean? Matt, after all this, you still don’t get it?”
“I don’t know!”
“Jerome told me to never take his eyes off me. Why do you think he said that?”
“Why… I—I don’t know… he just told me to… so I did…”

Matt mumbled uncertainly.
“Because Jerome…”
Because Jerome loved me. Yes. If you stay with me, you’ll never be loved fully. So send me away quickly—so I disappear from Jerome’s sight.
But just before I could utter these sweet lies, I saw Matt fumbling with his right hand. Despite the pain, he tried to hide his mangled stump behind his back, then winced and looked at it again, tears welling.
My tongue froze. If anyone was to blame, it was not Matt more than me. From Virginia to Laborham, the top-floor boys’ conspiracy had drawn us both in. Had I not asked Matt to come with me to Laborham, he need not have suffered this. That was the truth.
Blaming Matt meant misplacing my anger. I could not use him, knowing it would kill him, simply so I might survive. If I obeyed Jerome’s secret plan to use Matt, Matt would surely die.
As I paused, Matt panicked again.
“…Jerome, Jerome… Jerome will… he won’t like me if I become this ugly…”
Matt felt along his broken nose with his right hand. I turned my head away, unable to watch. Yet I could not block his cries.
“Ouch… it hurt… Simon… used… tools… wrench… my fingers… Raymond, I… I have no fingers…”
Matt’s muttering was more agonizing than any torture. The vinyl rustled as he staggered forward and flopped at my feet. He clung to my knees, sobbing, tears soaking his legs. Every broken word—“I… Raymond… hand… fingers… gone…”—weighed on my heart.
I bent down and rested my forehead against the back of his head. I must have lost myself for a moment—to think of exploiting the boy destroyed by me. He would surely die for me. With my forehead pressed to him, I exhaled softly and whispered,
“It’s okay, Matt. It’s okay. Rest. It’s okay. You’ll be alright… I promise.”
Matt hugged his legs and cried like a child, tears drenching his thighs. I kissed the back of his head and murmured reassurance just as the door opened again behind us.
A hush followed. Matt didn’t hear it, still weeping into his knees. My spine chilled; I rose slowly and strained to listen. After a moment, the vinyl’s rustle approached from behind, then stopped right there. I froze, unable to call to Matt.
A hand landed on my shoulder, so warm it made me start. Only one person had hands that hot.
Matt jerked his head up at my flinch. Seeing the figure behind me, his horror-stricken face froze, then he scrambled backward, pushing with his injured hand so hard the bandages began to bleed.
“How are you still… together?”
Simon spoke softly.
“You two can still get along?”
He turned slowly toward us. His cheeks hollowed, dark circles under his eyes. He looked unwell. Stroking his shoulder, he asked calmly,
“That boy stole from you and even handed you over to Jerome. That cowardly fool had chances to help you afterward but never did. Yet why do you always treat him kindly?”
“…”
“Raymond, explain it to me. Help me understand. Teach me why you hate and despise that boy, yet love him. I really don’t get you. Raymond, I don’t understand.”
Simon’s hand slid to my forehead, and he pressed a kiss there. I had no reply. My eyes stayed on Matt, terrified, burying his hand in his shirt. I knew Simon would resent Matt for my sake, yet I couldn’t look away.
Matt, like a madman, shoved his hand deeper into his shirt. His lips trembled, drooling, tears streaming, yet he dared not cry out in Simon’s presence. He seemed nearly insane. When he tried to shove his right hand into his mouth, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I closed my eyes and turned away, feeling Simon clamp his jaw.
As always, his voice was blunt:
“If you say you love me…”
I opened my eyes. Simon’s face was impassive.
“I will save you now.”
I looked up at Simon, then down at Matt sobbing beyond him.
“You should wish for what you want, you fool.”
Simon said nothing further, only watched me. As if my words were a signal, the door burst open behind us with a ruckus. The vinyl crackled as a group approached.
“Huh? Why is our Matt here? He followed us this far?”
It was Jerome. He asked loudly, curiosity and amusement in his voice, striding toward Matt. At that voice, Matt’s eyes filled with dread. What always amused Jerome so much? Jerome crouched in front of Matt, examining him with fascination.
Matt, drooling, forced his injured hand into his mouth, then suddenly spotted Jerome. His face went pale. Matt’s fear that Jerome would reject him if he was disfigured must have overwhelmed him. But Jerome showed no disgust—he examined Matt’s face eagerly, then noticed the mangled hand and his eyes widened.
“What happened here?”
Jerome turned to Simon, who stepped back slowly without replying.
“Oh, it’s him?”
A malicious voice rang out from behind, and a man forced his head back to stare at me.
“Hey, not bad-looking.”
“That’s him. Let him go.”
George’s voice followed. The door slammed shut. In moments, I was surrounded by a dozen or so men— all men, some already erect. They truly intended to film this. I glared at George, who set up the camcorder on the tripod. At his command, the men released my bindings.
Though my arms and legs were free, I remained seated. Why waste strength ahead of what was to come? Resistance felt pointless now.
I fixed my gaze on the camera lens. James—you tried to save me here. I recalled his face from just hours ago. I would not submit.
“Matt.”
George spoke gently.
“Jerome, bring Matt over.”
Without protest, Jerome complied, supporting the terrified Matt. Matt stretched his legs in panic, but Jerome’s strength was absurd. He placed Matt directly in front of the camera. George crouched before him.
“Matt, if I recall correctly, you said you and Raymond ‘shared love.’ Is that true?”
Matt looked too terrified to respond. George slapped him across the cheek. Matt froze, staring at George. George pressed again:
“You slept with Raymond, yes or no?”
Matt nodded frantically. George smiled coldly.
“And you told us certain things then. Do you remember?”
Matt, befogged with fear, couldn’t recall anything. Seeing his blank expression, George asked kindly,
“Think carefully. You went to a motel wanting to sleep with Raymond. You spread your legs, but Raymond didn’t… Why was that?”
Matt stayed silent. George slapped him again, and Matt began to cry anew.
“If you don’t answer properly, the rest of your fingers will be gone.”
Matt sobbed,
“I—I can’t! Raymond can’t insert!”
George turned to me, grinning. Shame flushed my face—it had vanished long ago, but now it burned. I clenched my teeth at him, but George nonchalantly returned his focus to Matt.
“Well then, how did you two make love?”
“I…I…”
George cut him off.
“Go on—show us.”