Copyright 2011 Nephylim
Published by Nephylim
In cooperation with
Flying With Red Haircrow
Artwork by Nephylim
Cover image design by Red Haircrow
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All characters depicted in this work are older than eighteen years of age, as indicated by text descriptions. It is intended for mature readers of legal age in their domicile. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Author’s Note: Enigma is written in British English, so spelling and regional dialects are evidenced in the narrative.
Chapter One – Enigma
My name is River Caulfield. Yeah, I know, but it’s what I was given so what can I do about it? I’m at work today. My official title is Care Assistant but I am on my way to being a psychiatric nurse... well, when I say ‘on my way’ I am hoping to start my degree, part time while still working here. I like it here. I feel safe here, and useful.
‘Here’ is what is currently called a ‘Care House’. They used to be called ‘Halfway Houses’ and various other names depending on what was politically correct at the time. Basically they are houses where patients come from residential care or hospital to learn to live independently.
There are always at least two members of staff, one who comes in every day to take care of paperwork, admin etc and one care assistant per resident, who is with them 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Of course, we don’t do it all by ourselves. There is a bank of six of us who work shifts. Usually there are no more than two residents so we work between two and five shifts a week, a shift being 7 to 7.
In addition to the daily staff there is a team of psychiatrists, psychiatric nurses, physiotherapists and therapists who work between the eight houses in our district, as and when needed according to the particular needs of the residents. I am very lucky. I have heard horror stories about some of the other houses, with ill treatment of residents and all sorts of dodgy dealing with money and facilities. Here we work as a team and we care. I love my job.
Night shifts are my favourite, as we get to sleep in and, once the residents are in bed, we usually have the whole night to ourselves with nothing to do. Of course sometimes, depending on the resident, we have to get up in the night to help them go to the toilet etc. but it isn’t usually too bad.
Today I am working a day shift. I’ve been avoiding nights for a while as we’ve had the most pain in the ass resident I have ever worked with. She takes great delight in calling us constantly through the night for no better reason than that she can. It is unthinkable to not answer her call just in case it’s genuine; and she is just driving us all into the ground.
I’ve not been in for a few days and as soon as I walk through the door I feel the change in atmosphere.
“What’s up? Is it someone’s birthday?”
Ronya, the administrator, and Kevin, who I am about to be relieving look up at me, their eyes shining.
“Glenda’s gone.” Kevin says simply, making my heart soar and then fall with a guilty thump.
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“Doc Marshall came on Monday and did a full assessment. I think all the complaints finally got through. He decided that she was not yet up to this level of independence and they took her back into Brookfields the next day.”
“Was she okay?”
“Okay? She was ecstatic. I think it’s what she wanted all along. She needs the security and the company of others. She had friends there and I think she was lonely.”
I think about it and it makes sense. The guilt fades. “So it’s just Julia now then?” Julia is delightful. She is thirty two and looks like a child, being tiny, delicate and childlike. She is severely schizophrenic but her current medication has her so well under control that it is on the cards for her to move on sometime soon. In the meantime she is more like one of the team than a patient.
“Nope.”
“No?”
“We had a new one last night.”
“Oh?” Kevin sniggers. “What?”
I look between the two of them and they have the damndest expressions on their faces.
“You better read the file. It’s in the office.”
“Am I missing something?”
They are still smirking.
“Read the file.” Kevin repeats.
Feeling bemused and slightly miffed I frown at them and stalk out of the room to stifled giggles. My heart sinks as I sit down at the cluttered desk and pull the new file towards me. From the behaviour of the other two it looks like it is going to be an ‘out of the frying pan’ situation. This new one must be pretty bad to elicit that kind of reaction from my colleagues
With a sigh I open the file. The first surprise is in the name. Silver. No surname or forename...just that. Hmm... Male. Age believed to be around 19. Believed? Around? Interested now, I press on.
It seems that Silver is something of an enigma. A lorry driver, who’d happened to have a flat tyre and pulled over onto the hard shoulder, found him unconscious at the side of the motorway in the middle of the night. He had noticed something in the undergrowth, which turned out to be a body...almost a dead one.
The driver had taken the boy to the nearest hospital where he was found to be suffering from severe hypothermia as well as the effects of a horrific beating, which had left him with broken bones and internal injuries. He had also been brutally and repeatedly raped.
They’d almost lost him a number of times in the first few days but somehow he had hung in there, although he slipped into a coma from which he didn’t wake for almost two months.
Following his emergence from the coma he had been worked on relentlessly by the physiotherapists and psychologists and physically he’s doing very well however, in the six months since he came out of the coma he has never recovered any of his memories of before he woke, has been prone to frequent seizures which have affected his memory generally of things that happened since and remains so withdrawn that he lives out his days in a half aware daze.
Really, he should have remained in residential care as it is highly uncertain whether he will ever make progress from where he is now. However, the notes from the psychiatric team indicate that the complete memory loss doesn’t seem to have a physical cause and neither does the persisting lack of awareness. There has been little opportunity to explore possible psychiatric causes, as Silver simply hasn’t spoken about it. It isn’t that he can’t speak; he is perfectly capable of holding conversations when he’s in one of his more lucid phases, and indeed comes across as a bright and funny boy...but he completely closes down as soon as the subject of his life before comes up and disappears within, not emerging sometimes for days, sometimes even more.
It is hoped that being out of the hospital environment will help him to relax and will allow him to gradually recover his memory, and his wits, naturally. He is on a shedload of medication; mainly anti convulsants and psychotics. I can’t help but think that maybe that’s why he lives half his life on another planet... but who am I to judge and, to be honest I don’t have the expertise to really know one way or the other.
Closing the file with a sigh I push it across the desk, running my hand through my hair. Great... just great. Not only do I have a day shift, which is always a pain in the ass; not only do I have a new resident to process and settle in... I have to have Mister fucking Mystery. Of course I have no idea what he’s going to be like but from the sound of the file he’s going to be hard work.
Sighing I get up from the desk and head back into the living room. Kevin and Ronya are whispering to each other, their heads close together. They look up when I come in and snigger again.
“Alright, alright. What are you...thirteen or something? What’s the joke anyway?”
“You’ve read the file?”
“Yeah... I’ve read the file. Sounds like hard work to me.”
“So what did you think?”
“To be honest... I thought... Oh just great... why me? Out of all the care houses in our district why did he have to come to this one?”
They snigger again. “What?! Will someone please fill me in on what all the sniggering is about?”
“Go see,” says Ronya, still sniggering.
“See what?”
“Not what silly, who - our new resident.”
“Why? Does he have three heads or something?”
“Oh no, only one head.”
“So what...?”
“Just go see.”
“God you two can be infantile. Just tell me what’s going on, will you? What’s wrong with this guy?”
“What’s wrong with him?” asks Kevin innocently, still with the smirk on his face. “Didn’t you read the file?”
“Yeah, I read the file and there’s nothing I’ve seen in there that would make you two turn into silly teenagers. What exactly do you find so funny? The fact that he got beaten into a coma... or the fact that he doesn’t remember anything about who is, or was before? Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s living in his own world because he can’t bear to be in this one? Oh yeah; I’m hysterical about that.”
They look down, the laughter gone. Ronya glances at me as if she’s going to say something but she snaps her mouth shut and gets up, heading for the office. Kevin smirks, unable to help it.
“You really wanna go take a look mate.”
“No; actually, I really don’t, not until I have to. So are you going to do handover now?”
“Yeah, yeah, keep your hair on. Maxy’s still in bed, lazy git. He’s doing a double shift today, going to take Julia to her first day at the Community College, so if you don’t hear any movement by half eight go wake him: they have to be there by ten. As for the new guy...” There’s that smirk again; he just can’t help it and boy do I want to slap him.
“Will you leave it out already? Either tell me what the joke is or drop it.”
“There’s no joke, River just...well... you’ll see. Anyway... He came in at nine last night and the hospital guys put him to bed. He’s been there, quiet as a lamb ever since. Obviously I haven’t had a chance to speak to him yet. The hospital have sent over three days worth of meds and a prescription which Ronya is getting filled today if you’re okay being here alone with... erm... him.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Is that what you think is so funny? His name? Can’t you ever bring yourself to say it?”
“Well it is... freaky.” He snickered.
“Well forgive me if I don’t crack up. It hasn’t exactly been easy living with a name like River either.”
Kevin smothered another giggle and shrugged. I sighed again and gave him a hard stare.
“Oooookay, moving on... they want him settled into a routine as soon as possible. He’s capable of doing just about anything but only if he is given clear instructions. He can dress and feed himself, and they said he can use the kitchen under supervision. For example... he’ll put toast under the grill but he won’t take it out again unless you tell him to or when he starts choking on the smoke. He’ll get in the shower but won’t come out until you get him. He’s not to go outside and to have total supervision at all times unless he’s asleep in which case you’re free.
“He’s to get up at nine and go to bed no later than ten; no special diet, no particular risk apart from abovementioned tendency to burn down the house. Essentially he follows instructions but most of the time isn’t capable of actual independent thought, although he does have moments of lucidity when he likes to talk and surf the net. He can do that as long as you keep constant watch on what he does and the time he spends before a screen or tv is limited to three hours a day because of the seizures.”
“How well controlled are they?”
“Varies. Generally very well controlled but tiredness, stress, usual triggers can bring them on and it can be pretty hard to tell when he zones out whether it’s an absence or a withdrawal. Sounds like a whole lot of fun.”
“So if there is essentially no T.V. what is he supposed to do all day, sit and stare at the wall?”
“Activities.”
“You what?”
“That’s what the big man says... keep his mind working and occupied as much as possible.”
“Like with what?” My mind is racing and already I am bitterly regretting that I had taken the day shift. This sounds like hard work.
“Apparently when he’s in the mood he’s very good at crossword puzzles... and he loves to write.”
“Write? Write what?”
“No idea, but they’ve sent his notebooks with him so no doubt you will find out.”
“Yeah; thanks mate. I’ve got three day shifts and then a double coming up. We’re going to have soooo much fun.”
“Don’t discount the fun element; at least not until you’ve met him.” The grin is breaking out again and I roll my eyes at him.
“What the hell has got into you?”
“I’ll speak to you tonight. Let’s just say that it is probably just as well you haven’t got any night shifts for a while. The kid would probably give you nightmares.”
“Nightmares? What do you mean?”
Kevin grins unabashedly and stands up. “Well... that’s me done. Don’t forget... Max up by eight thirty and sleeping beauty by nine...and lucky you gets to watch him shower...have fun with that.” He jiggles his eyebrows and I throw a cushion at him.
When I am alone I tidy the room a bit then go to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. Kevin has left toast crumbs all over the place and I curse him. The smell of toast makes my mouth water but I decide to wait for breakfast. It can be an ‘activity’ for Silver...hmm... it is kind of odd to think of calling anyone by that name. I suddenly get an insight to all those assholes who have sniggered at my name over the years and feel somewhat guilty but somewhat enlightened too.
I take a coffee in to Ronya. She is busy but she stops for a while to chat. She isn’t usually in this early but she has to take care of the admin details of Silver’s arrival... like letting social services know so they can do a ‘needs assessment’ to see if we need any extra facilities or care. Usually it’s a case of there being none to give but it’s a required formality with every resident. She also has to sort out benefits and re organise the food budget, chores rota etc.
Every resident, no matter what their capability is required to do chores. Of course the specific chores are carefully designed to fit the capability so that, for example, the less able residents do a little light cleaning or are responsible for putting out the rubbish or being in charge of the television remote, ensuring it is always put back on its stand; while the more able do everything from writing the shopping list to the laundry to actually going shopping and running outdoor errands.
Ronya sighs when I give her the coffee and closes her eyes with pleasure as she sips.
“Aaah this is good. You’re a genius with coffee, River. You always get it just as I like it.”
“Only because you like it the same way I do.” I laugh.
“So have you been up to see our newest guest yet?”
“No,” I say with a degree of irritation in my voice because the infantile teasing of my colleagues about it is really starting to piss me off.
“Easy there tiger... no need to bite of my head.”
“If you stop behaving like a twelve year old I will stop behaving like a large ravenous beast who is about to rip of your head.”
“Oh I don’t know about that,” she teases, her eyes twinkling. “Except about biting off my head of course.”
I can’t help but smile at that. I perch on the edge of the desk regarding her thoughtfully over the top of my mug. “So what’s the deal with all this anyway? Are you going to tell me or is it just an extension of your usual puerile game that comes out of the closet whenever we have a new young male resident?”
“Possibly...” she says carefully, “... there may be an element of that.”
“Oh come on; I thought you would have got over that by now.” I groan as Kevin’s remark about the shower sinks in. “Is that what it is? That you think because I’m gay I can’t help but hit on any man I meet who’s under 25?” I think back to previous occasions when I’ve had similar conversations. “No 50... or are you seriously trying to set me up with one of them? Am I really that sad that you think the only man I have a chance of snagging is one who can’t get away from me and is so out of it he doesn’t actually have any idea of who I am or what I look like anyway?”
I realise that my voice is getting more irritated as I progress but I can’t help it because that is pretty much what I have been feeling lately myself. Ronya doesn’t smile.
“You know it’s not that honey. You’re super cute and if you got rid of that chip on your shoulder you would be fixed up with the man of your dreams in no time at all. It’s just that we like messing with your head.” As she says the last part she grins widely and I almost mirror her.
“Hang on a minute... what chip on my shoulder?”
“The one that says ‘anyone who is sad enough to give me a second glance is too sad to be worthy of my contempt let alone my attention’.”
“You what?”
“Tell me that you don’t do it; that every time an attractive man looks at you, you don’t get defensive and suspicious of his motives and push him away before you even give him a chance of getting close - while all the losers in town get at least a quick feel under the dock.”
“What? Are you suggesting I am a slut?”
She cocks her eyebrows and tilts her head. Grumbling I get up and stalk out, angry only because I know she’s right. Lately, my love life has left a lot to be desired... which is probably why I am so sensitive to their teasing today.
At precisely eight twenty eight I climb the stairs with two mugs of coffee in my hands; one black with two sugars; one white with four. How Julia could possibly stay that thin with all the crap she puts in her body I will never know.
First I knock on the door of the staff bedroom and enter. It’s pretty stark. There is no point in decorating because there are just too many of us to please in doing so. There are two beds with a screen between, the only concession made to modestly and division of the sexes. It, like everything else, is beige.
There is a hump under the beige duvet and I give it a slap in the general area where I think the ass might be; Max always sleeps on his stomach with his ass up in the air; as I set his mug down on the bedside cabinet. It the only piece of furniture in the room apart from the bed, one wooden chair and an old chest in which bits and pieces are stored... you know, those little things that make it easier when you have to keep coming back to the same bed that isn’t yours; spare socks and underpants; okay underwear, but I try not to look at the frilly stuff; toiletries that you don’t want on display in the communal bathroom, personal items of a feminine nature... well you get the picture.
Max mumbles something and the mound collapses. A moment later a tousled mop of curly brown hair emerges followed closely by two large sleepy brown eyes. Damn he’s cute. If he were anything but straight I would have been literally chasing him across town.
“’Sup?” he says sleepily.
“It’s eight thirty and I have instructions to get you up.”
“Why?”
“Coz you are taking Julia to college.”
“Fuck! Yeah. Shit... my alarm didn’t go off.”
As he fishes his mobile phone from under the pillow it starts to beep and we both laugh.
“I’ll take Julia her coffee and meet you downstairs. Don’t rush... I’ll get breakfast started. I have to get my own charge up by nine so I’ll get him now and he can give me a hand. He can shower after he’s eaten.”
Do I imagine it or is there an extra twinkle in Max’s eye. I stare at him and he blushes. “Oh not you too? What the hell is the matter with you all this morning?”
Max’s eyes widen. “Haven’t they told you?”
“Told me what? Is he gold plated or something?”
Max sniggers and shakes his head. “You’ll see.”
“Ah fuck this,” I say relatively good naturedly as I walk out and shut the door. I almost detour to the newcomer’s room but think better of it as Julia has to be up first and breakfast has to be a priority.
As I tap on Julia’s door I hear movement inside. “Who is it?” calls a light musical voice, filled with barely concealed excitement. I wonder with amusement whether she has been up all night.
“It’s only me, River. I brought you coffee. I thought you might want to be spoiled a little this morning and have it in bed.”
The door flies open and Julia throws herself into my arms. She barely reaches my chest and I have to throw out my arm to stop the coffee pouring on her head.
“Steady on,” I say laughing. She squeezes me and lets go.
“Can’t stay in bed today. No way am I going to risk being late on my first day.” She sobers and frowns, stepping away from me. “Do I look okay?”
She is dressed in faded jeans and a pink and cream striped sweater, with her long blonde hair swinging in a pony tail behind her. If it hadn’t been for the haunted expression in her wide blue eyes and the telltale creases at the edges she would have looked like a teenager.
“You look good enough to eat. They’ll love you. So are you going to take your coffee downstairs then?”
“Sure. Do you want me to make a start on breakfast?”
“You can put some toast on if you like. I’ll be down in a sec. I have to go wake the new kid and he can help with breakfast. I don’t want to overcrowd the kitchen - too many cooks and all that.”
Julia’s eyes widen. “I saw him come in last night. What’s his story? Is it true his name is Silver? Is he going to be here long? Have you SEEN him?”
“Whoa there; you’re making my head spin. Too many questions all at once. You know I can’t tell you his story because it’s confidential. Yes, his name is Silver; and you take the piss out of that and I’ll beat you with a stick, I’ve been taunted too many times for being called River to let that one through, it’s a sore spot.” She grins and hugs me again.
“I like River, it suits you.”
I smile, surprised. “Why thank you.”
“Silver doesn’t suit him though; at least not what I saw last night. Hmm... so, have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Seen him yet?” I groan inwardly; not another one. Is everyone more interested in my love life than I am?
“Not yet. If you’ll just take this coffee and bugger off downstairs I’ll get to won’t I?”
“You’ll like him.” She winks.
“Yeah right; and just how many times over the last eight months have you said that to me; about just about anyone, including the postman, who was male and under 50?”
“Obviously not enough; you’re still single. I really thought I had it cracked with Max. Too bad he’s straight.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, and for a moment I wonder exactly how inappropriate it would be to spank a resident. As if reading my mind she grabs the coffee and runs for it, giggling.
Chapter Two – Surprises
After all the nonsense that has been going on this morning I find that I am suddenly nervous about meeting the new resident. I pause with my hand on the door and wonder what it could be about. Maybe... but no, there wasn’t anything in the notes about him being gay, and anyway that would be so inappropriate of them. Surely not even they would be so crass; not with a resident; not with someone like this.
So maybe he is particularly effeminate; well if that’s the case they will be sorely disappointed because that isn’t my type, not at all; but then, they all know that. So then what? I allow myself a small smile... maybe he’s just so drop dead gorgeous they think I will be smitten at first glance. I almost laugh aloud at that. Yeah right... here... Ha.
Still chuckling I open the door. The room is in darkness and the first thing I do is open the curtains. As I do so, my attention is caught by the fact that they are frilly, decorated with pink roses to match the wallpaper. Hmm... perhaps one of the activities my new charge and I can do; and soon; will be to re decorate the room. If he’s going to be here for a while then forcing him to spend time with the roses is going to drive him insane... well more insane than he already is.
I’m still smiling as I turn to see a hump wrapped tightly in the viciously pink quilt. Just as well it was dark when he came in. Poor kid. I can’t help but notice that the hump in this bed is considerably sleeker than the one in Max’s. The kid looks tall, possibly even taller than me and I just top 6ft.
Feeling more confident and realising that I have to ‘project a confident and professional air to reassure the resident and help to ease them into the new surrounding and routine that mark their transition from the institutional environment and the radically different routine and environment of a residential setting’, I compose myself. Yeah, I know, I’m a geek with a photographic memory, although knowing the rules doesn’t necessarily mean I always follow them.
“Silver,” I say softly as I shake him gently by the shoulder. I wonder how many times he has heard a smirk in the voice that calls him by name. I know that I have, often enough.
With a sigh the figure in the bed turns over, flinging out an arm with a soft moan. I freeze. Fucking hell... I mean what the fuck.... fucking HELL.
He is nothing like I had expected, not that I had really been expecting anything but; with a name like Silver I had kind of expected him to be fair; ash blonde or something. But he isn’t. He’s dark, very dark. His hair is jet black and long, and even tangled and dry as it is; it makes me want to run my fingers through it. I can imagine myself gently tugging out the knots and running conditioner down the length of it, strand by strand. It would be soft and silky and...
Shit! And that’s just his hair. The things I wouldn’t want to do with those lips. Fuck. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined... Gods he is beautiful; not just cute like Max, not handsome or pretty or any of the other words used to describe how someone looks; he isn’t even drop dead gorgeous: he is beautiful, simple as. Lying there with his hair all over the place, his long coal black lashes trembling on his milk white cheeks, one arm thrown out revealing the creamy skin and well defined muscles of his bare shoulders and chest he is a fucking angel... a real, living, breathing, flesh and blood angel.
Gods damn them; they knew. The bastards knew the effect he would have on me and all the giggling and snickering now make sense. Shit, I am practically creaming my pants just looking at him. I shake my head and laugh at myself. Get a grip, River. Just keep your mind above your waist and remember that this is a resident, a patient, a sick person who needs you to be strictly professional and... Ah fuck, why did he have to stir right at this moment? Why did he have to let out that cute little sigh that parts his lips and makes me want to... to... Shit!!!!
Moving his head from side to side drowsily on the pillow, Silver gives a sleepy little grunty moan thing and yawns showing absolutely perfect white teeth... of course, although I notice that there is a gap right at the back on the bottom. I don’t know why but that makes me smile; somehow, something that mars that perfection, even to such a slight degree, is a huge relief.
Just when I am managing to get myself under control and have a goofy smile on my face, Silver opens his eyes. If I had thought that Silver with his eyes closed was beautiful, Silver with his eyes open is... unreal. At least now I understand why he is called Silver. His eyes are grey, a strange pale silvery grey with an almost metallic sheen, like mercury. For a full minute I just stare at him and he stares back. There is no curiosity in his eyes, no fear, no challenge; no anything. I have never seen eyes that are so blank.
Quite suddenly it occurs to me that I am staring and really not being very professional at all. I force myself to smile, a tight professional smile and not the goofy grin that is threatening to break out at any moment.
“Hello Silver, my name is River, did you sleep well?”
The silver grey eyes regard me steadily but there is no indication that he has even heard me let alone understood me. I broaden my smile and try again.
“It’s morning, Silver, time to get up. Do you need me to help you with that?”
At last there is a reaction, just a tiny shake of the head. The silver eyes flicker and with a sigh he throws back the quilt and I am blinded. At least I wish I had gone blind because if I had I wouldn’t have been staring at that body with quite so much raw hunger. Fuck he is beautiful all over.
Turning away I walk to the chest of drawers, hoping that he had brought some clothes with him. The first drawer contains pyjamas and I wonder why the hell they hadn’t put any on him last night, although a moment’s reflection supplies the answer: bastard.
Trying to keep my face turned and my eyes well above the waist I hand Silver the pyjamas.
“Can you put these on?”
Without making a sound he takes the clothes from my hands and slips them on. I have to watch, I just can’t help it. I don’t know what kind of condition he was in before whatever happened, happened, or when he woke up out of the coma but those physiotherapists have sure done one amazing job over the past six months. He is slender, even thin, but so well defined that, even through the cotton pyjamas it is possible to see that he is toned to perfection, every muscle group well defined.
Shit, he’s fucking perfect in every way. And when he starts to walk...
My great grandmother used to be a dancer, way back in the twenties. She was something of a celebrity back then, and I can remember my grandfather talking about her with fierce pride on his face. When he was a child he used to go to the theatre to watch her practice and perform and he would say that even when she was not on the stage, even when she was just walking down the street, across a room, getting on a train; she was always dancing. He used to say she ‘walked lightly on the earth’. I have always remembered that phrase - walked lightly on the earth - and I thought I knew what he meant... until now.
Damn those physiotherapists have done a good job, a great job, there isn’t so much as a hint of a limp and he stands very erect with his head up and... walks lightly on the earth. It’s hard to describe, but he flows, hardly making a sound, so lightly that it makes you feel that he wouldn’t make a footprint in snow.
He pauses in the doorway, waiting. I am staring again. “Do you dance Silver?” The words just slip out. I forget that he doesn’t know, that he doesn’t want to know; it’s just that the way he walks makes me think so much of my great grandmother that I am suddenly sure that he must be a dancer too.
Something flickers across his face, making him narrow his eyes and his lips move as if he is going to say something, but it is fleeting and he just shakes his head.
“Okay, never mind. Come on; it’s our turn to make breakfast.”
He follows me obediently down the stairs and into the kitchen. They are all waiting, even Ronya, smirking.
“What? Are you waiting for breakfast? You should at least have made a start.”
Julia giggles and kicks her legs, dangling them over the kitchen table. She stares at Silver in open admiration. “Hot damn it man; you’re fucking gorgeous. Where the hell did you come from?”
Silver turns his eyes on her impassively, seeming to be perfectly at ease but completely detached.
“Do you want some coffee?”
Silver turns to Max and gives him the same empty look. “Coffee?” Max holds up a mug and Silver stares at it.
“Try him with some, Max. I don’t think he’s good at making decisions.”
Max nods and pours a mug of coffee, putting milk and sugar in it. He hands it to Silver who takes it and stares at it for a while before releasing it with a cry so that it falls to the ground smashing on the tiles and splashing everyone, who jump back; everyone except Silver.
“Fuck! What the hell are you doing? Be careful, that’s hot.”
“Hot?”
“Yeah... fucking hot.” Max sounds annoyed, brushing at his soaked trousers. “Fuck! I am going to have to change. Come on Julia; we don’t have time for breakfast: I am going to have to call in at home for clean trousers. We can eat at the college, they do good breakfasts; my treat.”
Julia laughs and slips daintily off the table. Silver’s eyes swivel to her and she reaches up to touch his face. He is tall, taller than me by a couple of inches and she has to reach up high.
“Don’t worry.” She smiles her beautiful, sweet smile and it is almost reflected on Silver’s face. “Max’s bark is worse than his bite. Remember though; coffee is hot; okay?” Silver nods, blinking and Julia takes his hand, stroking the palm with her small delicate fingers. I note with some surprise that his hands are not much bigger than hers, although the fingers are long and look dextrous.
“Does it hurt?” When there is no response she puts one hand on his face again, smiling into his eyes. “Does it hurt, Silver, beautiful Silver? Did the cup burn your hand?” Slowly he nods and looks down at his scarlet palm. There doesn’t seem to be any pain in his eyes. There doesn’t seem to be anything much at all.
Julia leads him to the sink and turns on the cold water drawing his hand, palm upwards, under the stream. He doesn’t try to pull it away although I know it must be stinging like hell.
“Fuck.” We have all been so riveted by the interaction between Silver and Julia that we completely forgot about the coffee mug, which smashed when it hit the tiled floor. Silver had walked over it when Julia had drawn him to the sink and now there is blood mixing with the coffee on the tiles.
Ronya quickly scoops up the remaining china and I gently steer Silver away from the sink again and into a chair. Lifting his foot it is a relief to see that there is only one small sliver of china embedded in the ball of his foot. I pull it out as gently as I can but he doesn’t even flinch. I look up and meet his eyes; they are as impassive as ever.
“What the hell?” Max exclaims.
“Don't sound so surprised. Haven’t you read the file?”
“No; he’s your baby.”
“Ah. Well, welcome to our happy home, Silver. Shall we try again with the coffee?” Silver shakes his head.
“No coffee... hot.”
His voice is like a gentle rain shower on a hot day, cool and refreshing to the ear and the mind. God is there no end to this boy’s beauty? He must have been a really nasty piece of work: no one can look and sound as good as this and be nice.
Ronya, finishing cleaning up the glass, hands me the first aid box from under the sink and I swab Silver’s foot with an antiseptic wipe, although the bleeding has already stopped. I put a plaster on it and then release him. He simply sits and looks blank.
“What is it with him? I have to admit I am finding this a little spooky now.”
“Read the file, Max.”
Julia crouches at the side of the chair and looks into Silver’s eyes, pushing the heavy tangle of hair out of the way. She smiles and he mirrors it. “He’s just hiding. We all have our own ways of doing that. He’ll be alright, won’t you sunshine?” He smiles uncertainly and his eyes follow her as she bounces to her feet and out of the door calling back. “Come on, Max; you’re going to make us late and then you’ll have to shout for lunch too.”
Throwing Silver a puzzled look Max follows Julia out of the door. Ronya puts two mugs of coffee down on the table and, with a smile follows them, leaving me alone with Silver. I take his hand to check the burn and, for the first time he flinches, as if he’d forgotten I was there.
“How does this feel now? Does it still hurt?”
He looks blank but puzzled and I stroke his palm with my finger tips. “Does it hurt, Silver? Is there pain? Soreness?”
He shakes his head and I smile at him, slightly disappointed that he doesn’t return it with me as he had with Julia.
“Shall we try the coffee again?”
“Hot.” The word is very decisive and said with a strange absolute certainty.
“Yes, hot, but it’s fine if you are careful. It’s good. Didn’t you have any when you were in the hospital?”
He squints at me, trying to remember and then shakes his head. “Okay; well, hold it like this, by the handle and sip… very carefully. It is hot so you need to take it easy and be very careful, okay?”
He nods thoughtfully and takes the coffee, following my movements as I take and sip mine.
“Good?”
He lowers the mug and tilts his head, staring at me with his strange, empty eyes. Then suddenly he grins, a real smile that lights up his eyes; just for a moment and then it’s gone but for that moment... for that moment I looked into his eyes and saw the person who was in there somewhere. I like what I saw.
“It is good. I don’t know why but I think it shouldn’t be so sweet.”
“Okay, next time I won’t put any sugar in it.”
“No; no sugar.”
“Fine. When you’ve finished the coffee we need to make breakfast. Do you know what you would like to eat?”
The shutter is well and truly down behind those silver eyes again. He looks blankly at me and I remember what I was told about his independent thought: there isn’t any.
“Alright, we’ll have something simple today and I can help you make something more hearty tomorrow when we are all here for it. How about some toast with honey and cereal?”
There is no response so I give up.
“Take the bread and put it in the toaster.” Silver puts down his coffee and automatically complies with my instructions. I watch him carefully. He doesn’t ask where the bread is or where the toaster is or how much bread to put in. He sees the bread... he sees the toaster...he puts bread in the toaster until it is full. He does not switch on the toaster because he has not been told to. All the time he works his eyes are blank: his fingers are dextrous and his movements deliberate but his eyes...
I direct Silver to set the table, being as precise as I can with my instructions. I leave him putting the toast on a plate and go get Ronya.
“You up for some breakfast?”
“Sure. How you getting on with Silver?”
“He’s taking some getting used to.”
Ronya laughs. “He’s a bit of a shock isn’t he?”
“He’s...” I look at her with a frown on my face. “He’s a boy with a lot of problems; more than I’ve seen before. He’s not a freak and he’s not a circus show.”
“Hey! No need to be so defensive about it. We weren’t mocking him, not really. We were just messing with you.”
“Yeah: hilarious.”
“Aw come on River; tell me your chin didn’t hit the floor the first time you set eyes on him.”
For a moment I stare at her severely then I have to laugh. “Yeah alright, my chin and... er... other parts of me.” I tease. Her eyes widen and I add, laughing. “Like my stomach.”
“Ah right.”
Silver is staring at his hands folded on the table in front of him.
“You didn’t have to wait, Silver. You could have started without us.”
He looks up but there is nothing in his eyes. “What do you like to eat?” Still nothing. “Take some toast, spread it with butter and honey and then eat it.”
Silver complies precisely. Again he is dextrous and neat, completing his tasks with no difficulty. He eats delicately, there is nothing urgent in his movements, nothing desperate in the way he eats, just taking small bites and laying the toast back on the plate in between. When he finishes he sits quietly and stares at the table.
“Do you want some more? Some cereal?” Ronya smiles at him.
Silver raises his eyes and stares blankly.
“Are you still hungry, Silver?” Nothing. “Put some cereal in your bowl, pour milk on it and eat it.”
Again he complies precisely and finishes the bowl with the same neat, delicate movements. Both Ronya and I watch him; we can’t help it. It’s the strangest thing I have ever seen. There have been many residents coming and going in the eighteen months I have worked here and they have all had their problems to a greater or lesser degree but I have never seen anything like this. Someone who is so shut off that he has no capability at all for independent thought; little more than a robot.
“Should he be here?”
“Apparently so. It seems that he has his lucid moments and they are hoping they will increase with more normal surroundings. I have to admit I have my doubts but I am not the doctor; I am just the one who follows orders without asking questions; something like him really.”
Ronya looks at me and then at Silver who has finished eating and is staring at the table again, his pale grey eyes fixed on something and nothing, his hands folded demurely in front of him. “No,” she says softly, “nothing like him.”
With Silver’s help breakfast is cleared away and the dishes washed in no time. As long as I am careful to be precise with my instructions Silver works efficiently and quietly with a great deal of skill and dexterity. In fact he impresses me.
When we are done I take him up to his room and he sits on the bed staring at the wall while I go through his drawers checking on the clothes he has been provided with. They are all bland. Three pairs of worn jeans, four shabby t-shirts, one shirt. The only things that are new are the six pairs of underpants and six pairs of socks. Even the two pairs of pyjamas and the one pair of sneakers looks old and worn although of good quality. I sigh and hope that Ronya has been given a budget to get him some new clothes.
I am putting off the inevitable and I know it. I am very reluctant to get Silver in the shower; not that it is the shower that’s the problem. I get him to make the bed and to lay out the clothes, after completely failing to get him to make a choice of what he wants to wear. Unless I am specifically telling him to do something he just stares at me with blank eyes and I get the feeling that no matter what I do to him, from shouting to physical violence would make any difference to that blankness; not that I would shout or hurt him, of course, but I could see how the implacable blankness might irritate someone beyond endurance.
In the end, I sigh and instruct Silver to take off his pyjamas and fold them on the bed. While he is doing this I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. All of the residents have en suite showers although if they want a bath they have to go to the communal bathroom, which is also the one that we use.
When I get the water to the right temperature I turn back towards the bedroom and find Silver standing rigidly erect, as always, staring at the bed. I sigh. This is sad but likely to get frustrating very quickly.
“It’s time for your shower, Silver.” He doesn’t move. I close my eyes, partly because I really don’t want to look at the beautifully muscled shoulders, narrow waist and the cutest butt I have ever seen, and partly with a mixture of sadness and irritation. “Get in the shower, Silver.”
With complete obedience Silver practically dances across the room revealing a front that is even more delicious than the back. I close my eyes until he is past and stepping into the shower.
“Ahh,” he gasps.
“What’s wrong? Is the water too hot?”
He shakes his head and smiles at me. I am completely taken aback because it is a real smile, from someone who is looking at me out of those weird eyes.
Still smiling he stretches, lifting his face towards the shower and then turns so the water is running over his back. He closes his eyes and throws back his head, sighing with pleasure.
I close the door and watch from a safe distance, safe being far enough away for the steam to blur the naked form behind the glass. I see him raise his arms and arch his back and think that I am really going to have to leave the room for a minute; just long enough to... adjust myself.
Fortunately I manage to control myself and sit on the toilet, persistently keeping my eyes on the floor. After about fifteen minutes I tap on the door. Silver wipes a window in the steam.
“You need to wash your hair now. There is shampoo on the floor in the corner.”
Silver smiles and nods and then reaches down to pick up the shampoo and I wish I’d had the foresight to move the shampoo to the nearest corner.
I don’t need to tell him to take the lid off the shampoo or how to use it and in no time he has his head thrown back, his eyes closed and his hands raised, massaging the shampoo through his hair and into his scalp. I swallow hard as it is the most erotic thing I have seen in a long time. I have to keep repeating over and over in my head that this is a resident, someone who needs my help and that the thoughts that are going through my head are very inappropriate.
I am so lost in my thoughts, or rather so lost in my attempts to suppress my thoughts, that I miss Silver rinsing his hair and picking up the conditioner. I come back into focus to see him squeezing it onto his hands and rubbing them together before running his fingers through his hair grimacing at the tangles. He bends his head forward under the water and it falls like a curtain, much longer than I had originally thought.
Something niggles in my mind but I dismiss it as, once he has finished with his hair Silver straightens and turns his back on the water letting it run down over his shoulders and back. He arches his back, his eyes half closed. I can barely see him through the steam but he looks as if he is enjoying every second of it.
I move around the side of the shower and sit on the window sill, moving the toiletries out of the way. It’s got to beat the toilet, right?
I can see Silver’s hands on the side of the shower. I know he has his back arched and I want to wipe away that steam and have a good look at... shit. I really have to stop thinking like this or I am going to have to ask to be taken off the case.
Something is still niggling at me and I suddenly realise what it is; it’s the conditioner.
I get to my feet and tap on the side of the shower. Again Silver wipes a window and this time he presses his face against the plastic, playfully making a face at me. I am completely shocked.
“You used conditioner.” He looks at me quizzically a half smile on his face and my heart starts hammering in my chest. “I didn’t tell you to use conditioner but you did.”
Silver’s expression changes and becomes deeply sad. He turns his head slightly so that his cheek is resting against the plastic and draws lazy circles in the steam with his finger.
He raises his eyes to mine and for the briefest moment there is an intelligence there that takes my breath away. “Sometimes...” he pauses letting his eyes follow his finger, “the mist clears but... it’s not safe.”
“Not safe? What isn’t safe? Is that why you hide? Because you don’t feel safe? You’re here, Silver, with me. You’re safe.”
Again his eyes meet mine and there is the tiniest smile and the tiniest shake of the head and then he pushes away from the wall to immerse himself in the water again.
I am completely shocked. I don’t know why but the Silver I had glimpsed, even if only for a moment, has stunned me. If he came out; if he were here all the time... I shiver. If that happens I’m off the case: simple as.
Chapter Three – Discoveries
I leave Silver under the shower for about half an hour while I grapple with my out of control emotions. I am a professional. I am above all this. I do not let my residents get under my skin. I will not allow myself to lose perspective. I will be professional. I am so professional that I go downstairs and carefully count out Silver’s medication for the day and carry this morning’s pills back up. Then I sit and look at them for a while, pondering, ever so professionally, why they choose the colours they do when making them. I mean, why make a pink pill pink or a blue pill blue? It doesn’t affect their efficiency.
Eventually, I can’t put it off any longer and I open the shower door handing Silver a large fluffy towel, instructing him to dry himself while I rinse and turn off the shower.
When I am finished I notice that he is watching me with a strange look in his eyes. It is not the intelligence I saw before, but not the completely blank look either, it is more a kind of mindless curiosity.
Sighing, I take the towel and start to blot the moisture from his shoulders and back. It is then that I notice the scars. There are many of them, old and silvery, criss-crossing the skin across his shoulders back and buttocks. I make a mental note to check on those and precisely when they were inflicted. They are obviously not accidental.
I turn him around and check out his chest. There are no scars, not like on his back, the skin is silky smooth and flawless. However, I notice the absence of something else and, checking out the rest of his body my eyes widen with the realisation. I say nothing to him but leave him to finish drying while I fetch his clothes. I don’t need to instruct him how to dress so I just watch.
In some ways Silver dressed is ever worse that Silver naked. The jeans are tight, showing off the tight buttocks and shapely legs which are just so incredibly long and the t-shirt is ever so slightly too small so that every curve and plane is accentuated. Ungh.
When he is dressed, I hand him a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste and he makes a good job of cleaning his teeth. There is no need to shave because his chin is as smooth and hairless as a pre teen.
I take Silver by the hand, noticing how smooth and soft his fingers are, and sit him on a stool in front of the mirror. He seems instantly captivated by his reflection and stares himself in the eyes, getting lost. Handing him the pills and a glass of water I watch his curious eyes tear themselves away from the mirror to look at the glass, the pills and then my face. I almost sigh but, professionally, I don’t. I hand him the pills and he takes them, examining them with slight curiosity. I wonder if he is contemplating the colours too.
I hand him the glass and he takes it with no comprehension of what he is supposed to be doing with either.
“You need to swallow the pills. Use the water to help you.”
He looks at me blankly and this time I can’t help but sigh.
Taking the pills from his hand I press my finger against his lips and he obediently and far too sensuously, opens his mouth. I put the pills inside and try to say; “Swallow.” It comes out as a husky whisper. I press the glass to his lips and he seems to get the message taking a mouthful of water and swallowing the pills, his eyes wide and trusting. That kind of unquestioning trust makes me uneasy and it is relief to take the glass out of his hand and let him get back to staring at himself in the mirror. There’s no conceit in it, only curiosity, as if he has never seen his own face before.
I pick up a brush and set to work on the tangles. It’s a long job and it shocks me again because, once it is smooth it reaches past his waist and is like a sheet of silk. It slides through my fingers and I abandon the brush and just run my hands through the heavy length of it until I catch his eye in the mirror and I drop it like a hot potato.
Plugging in the hair dryer I pick up the brush again but hardly need it as the hair falls thick and smooth as it dries. Silver seems to like me brushing it though so I keep on long after it is dry and I have turned off the dryer. He sits with his eyes half closed and occasionally sighs.
Eventually, I lay down the brush and put my hands on his shoulder. He jumps and his eyes snap open. For a fraction of a second I see fear there, fear so intense it turns my stomach, and then the shutter falls and the familiar blank look is back.
With a sigh I search through the drawers and find a band to hold back the long hair and slip it in.
“Come on. We’re supposed to be doing activities and we have already spent far too long at this.”