Chapter Ten
“I can’t believe you’re moving in with Top.” Nick chuckles from Sand’s bedroom doorway as Sand continues to convey his clothes and other possessions into the gathered boxes.
“Neither can I.” Sand feels like everything has happened in a whirlwind. A wonderful whirlwind that has given Sand everything he could ever want. “Are you going to be okay here without me?”
Nick rolls his eyes playfully. “You’ve already asked me that already and yes, Sand, I will somehow manage to survive without you. A friend of mine from my internship needs a place to stay so he’s going to take your room.”
“That’s good.” Sand had felt bad about moving out, what with the imminent end of summer breakup that’s about to hit Nick but Nick had waved those concerns away, happy that Sand is finally happy. “Don’t you have a date with Boston?”
“Shit that’s right.” Nick pulls out his phone to check the time. “I’d hate to run and leave you alone with all this packing…”
Sand laughs. “No you don’t, not when you have Boston waiting for you. Go on, get out of here. Top’s coming by tomorrow anyway to help me lug this all downstairs, there’s no reason he can’t help me finish packing.”
“Just make sure the sheets stay on if you two have sex. Max gets your mattress too.” Nick winks as Sand throws a pillow at him.
After that the apartment grows silent as Nick leaves and Sand is left alone. Top was back at his apartment making room for Sand. Night is slowly bleeding away at the day, Sand is humming to himself and thinking about leaving the rest of the packing for the morning, when a frantic knocking kicks off from the door.
Sand stops humming and walks from his room toward the apartment door, wondering who it could be. Maybe Nick forgot his keys? But if he did, why wouldn’t he just text Sand? A sense of foreboding thrums through Sand’s veins but he quickly dismisses it. His paranoia can’t control every aspect of his life. So Sand opens the front door and finds Ray, reeking of booze, holding a knife tightly in one hand.
“Hey baby.” Ray’s voice is that slippery steadiness that comes when Ray is drunk but functioning.
“Ray.” Sand swallows against his sudden fear. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you’re moving in with him. That asshole.” Ray sneers and lurches forward, knife held forward.
“Ray calm down.” Sand backtracks quickly, bumping up once more against the row of lockers.
Ray follows Sand across the room, bracing one hand against the lockers to the left of Sand’s neck, fingers just grazing Sand’s skin, while the hand holding the knife finds it’s way to Sand’s side, the razor sharpness digging into Sand with each breath.
“Calm down? Calm down?!” Ray screams in Sand’s face. “How can I calm down! I fucking love you and you’re fucking some other guy! How could you?!”
Sand feels his heart racing. Here Ray is, drunk and angry and holding Sand at knife point. Sand has to weigh everything very carefully in his head before he says anything. He takes a calming breath. “Ray, I'm sorry.”
“Are you though?” Ray digs the knife harder against Sand’s side and he flinches a little.
“Yes.” Sand thinks for a minute. He needs to get out of this, needs to give Ray what he wants. “Yes, I’m so sorry.”
“Really?” Ray’s voice is so small, hitched slightly with the burn of alcohol.
“Of course I’m sorry. Ray, I still love you.” Sand sees the hope flare in Ray’s eyes. “I just…got scared when you came back. I didn’t know what to do.” Ray’s grip wavers on the knife. “I should have realized then how much you still loved me and I’m sorry I didn’t. Can’t we start over? Can’t you just take me away, so we can be together?”
Ray is swaying slightly on his feet, the anger no longer holding back the alcohol. His eyes are glazed but focused as much as they can be on Sand’s face. Ray’s empty hand drops from the lockers and the one with the knife loosens against Sand’s side. Sand smiles down at Ray, full of that familiar warmth Ray is craving, and makes to step forward, step toward Ray.
At the last second Sand twists away, away from Ray and his knife, toward the hallway and Sand’s room with a locking door and his phone. But there’s a hand grabbing at his shirt, pulling him backward, a sudden sharp pain in his side, blood, hot and sticky, flowing from the sudden knife wound. Sand screams and collapses to the floor, pain flooding his system, nearly knocking him out with it’s intensity. Ray is screaming something above him but Sand can’t make out what he’s saying, a strange fuzziness coming over Sand’s hearing.
The whole world in fact is fuzzy and indistinct around the edges, pain muted as Sand tries desperately to crawl away. Away from Ray, away from the pain. But Ray is still there, hurt and yelling, and more pain erupts behind Sand’s eyes as Ray stabs down once more, slicing into Sand’s thigh.
“You can’t leave me.” Ray’s voice is slurred and the fresh wave of pain makes sure Sand can hear everything. “I love you too much. Top, he fucking ruined everything. Made you scared of me.”
Sand is crying, or screaming, he isn’t sure anymore. There’s so much fucking blood, his own blood, coating his hands, soaking his clothes, staining his floor. Sand is lying in a puddle of his own blood as his ex-boyfriend kneels over him, knife still in hand.
“It’s okay though, Sand.” Ray’s free hand cards through Sand’s hair. “I’m going to take you away with me.”
Everything around Sand is fading. He should be panicking, trying to get away. But Sand is so tired and so cold. All he wants to do is go to sleep and forget about everything. Distantly he realizes Ray is still above him, still has a knife, but it seems all so far away. So does the sound of the apartment door being kicked open and yelling as a pair of men in police uniforms flood into the room, right before Sand passes out.