Eclipse Of The Moon ~ Book 1 of Aaron
Chapter 26
The Gentleman...

Monday 23 June 2003

My body is so sore, aching everywhere. I feel like I am a huge heap of bones, muscles and flesh that has been crushed or run over by a train. However, if it was the case, I'd be dead and unable to feel the pain. It might have been better though.

I can endure the pain – the physical pain, I mean. Somehow, it's good penance to atone for all my sins, and God knows how sinful I have been...

Wait, wait, wait! Scratch that! Those words aren't part of my vocabulary anymore!

I can endure the pain – the physical pain, I mean. Somehow, it soothes the emotional suffering in my chest and in my head, the one that comes from all the wrong I have done in the past eight months. All my throbbing limbs are nothing compared to what I feel deeper within, their soreness feels like mere caresses next to the torture my mind and my heart are going through. I almost wish I could die.

Almost.

I have done enough wrong and it might be time to quit my bullshit, face the consequences of my acts and man up to mend up mistakes I made. But am I capable of that? Do I have it in me to correct my actions on my own? Am I not too far gone in my vices to get back on my feet and climb up this slippery hill I hurtled down so quickly? It seemed so easy to walk down the slope, I even felt like the wind was pushing me faster to the bottom, nearly making me tumble and crash.

From down there, looking up at the top of the hill, it almost looks impossible. The road looks full of pitfalls, traps, potholes and what not. I'm not sure I can do this. I used to feel so strong, full of confidence, I had faith in my future, but now...

Now I feel weak, the result of the past eight months only makes me doubtful, and as far as my future is concerned, I just can't see it.

I need a helping hand, but the only help I can think of is almost three thousand miles away from here, and there's no way I could call for it. That would mean admitting I failed. That would mean confessing I lied. That would mean disappointing my best friends. I can't resolve to this, so what other options do I have?

Honestly, I don't know. And right now, I'm just too tired to think. I'm in too much pain to envisage a way-out, both physically and mentally. I need one to alleviate the other, but it doesn't make my mind any clearer. Why can't life be simple? Why do images of Joshua, Mark and Camden play before my eyes, augmenting my guilt and aggravating my troubled mind? I have been missing them so much, but I have never yearned for their presence and support as much as I do right now.

As if I wasn't suffering enough from the beating-up and my grieving conscience, tears begin to burn my eyes behind my closed eyelids, and unfortunately, letting them escape doesn't make it any better because there are always more forming.

"Open your eyes."

The deep and dry voice that echoes in my ears is so sudden and holds such authority that it makes me startle, and as I open my eyes – not because of the order I heard, but more as a self-defense instinct – and jerk up in a sitting position, all the pain I felt before intensifies. The grimace it induces kindly reminds me that my face wasn't spared in the fight, but this is not the biggest shock of the moment.

What causes me to gasp and cower is the presence of a man at the foot of the bed I'm lying on. Dressed in jeans and a hoodie, he looks different from the first time I met him, but that man is none other than the gorgeous gentleman who wanted to rent my ass for one thousand bucks almost two weeks ago and from whose car I escaped, stealing 500 dollars without having done anything.

A quick peek at my surroundings indicates me that I am in a hospital bedroom. The aseptic smell, the cream walls without any decoration, safety windows in metal frames, a stand for intravenous drips are all evidence, but I'm glad to see my arm is free of any needle. I don't know how I got here, the only thing I can remember is that I was beaten by a group of at least six or seven guys before I lost consciousness. It is still quite dark outside, although the first rays of light are drawing, so I wonder how long I have been here because I am super tired.

Looking back at the man in front of me, a cold shiver runs down my spine at the sight of his dark expression. What the fuck is he doing here? How did he find me? Has he come to get his money back? Hopefully not, because I don't have it.

The man is taller than I would have guessed; after all, he was sitting in the car the first time I met him. He is well built, with a broad chest that inspires safety and trust, but when I glance again at his stern expression, his furrowed eyebrows and the thin line formed by his lips, I feel goosebumps raise on my arms. His dark hair and trimmed beard only add to his authoritative aura, and I wish he would stop glowering at me right now.

Nonetheless, I'm not going to let myself get impressed by him. I don't have his fucking cash, so if he expects to get it back, he is sorely mistaken.

"How are you feeling?" he suddenly asks in a baritone voice that sounds more reassuring.

How the fuck can he do this? How can he inspire fear with his rigid expression and at the same time embolden safety and affection? I hate how my mixed emotions trouble me, but I can't show this to him. I need to prove myself strong.

"What am I doing here?" I ask harshly, glad that my voice is firm enough.

"What are you doing here?" he repeats, sarcasm mixed with anger. "Unless you forgot what happened before you blacked out, a gang was beating you down in an alley. If it weren't for a few men who rescued you, you'd probably be dead by now," he spits dryly, pausing for a few seconds before he goes on. "At the end of the day, you got pretty lucky, your wounds could have been much worse, and you only end up with a lot of bruises, but no broken bones or internal bleeding."

With casual nonchalance, I flex my arms, then my legs underneath the bed sheet, happy that he seems to be saying the truth, yet perplexed that he should know this. At least, this is good news. I don't really care about the bruises because they will fade, as will the soreness in my muscles. What matters is that no broken bone means that I will be able to escape sooner or later.

Sooner than later.

What about now by the way? I'm wearing one of these stupid hospital gowns, but I quickly spot my clothes on a table nearby. He hasn't mentioned the five hundred bucks, so perhaps he has forgotten – one can dream! I don't know how I'll be able to dodge him, but the most important for now, is to escape this room before some doctor comes in.

"Great! I can leave then!" I say, already shifting to get off the bed.

"Sit back down!" he growls.

I manage to avoid startling at his booming voice again, but even before my feet have touched the ground, the man is in front of me and, slipping his hands under my armpits, he pushes me back against the pillow without ceremony or the slightest effort.

The heck!! It's not like I'm weighing a hundred pounds!

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going out!" I grunt, trying to move to the other side of the bed, but his hands firmly pin me down.

"Certainly not before you've seen a doctor."

"Well, that's the point!" I snort. "I can't stay here. I have to go before a nurse or whoever comes here. I don't know which idiot took me here, but I have no money to pay for the bill, so I have to leave!"

"I SAID NOT BEFORE YOU'VE SEEN A DOCTOR!" he whisper-yells, seething through his teeth and his eyes throwing daggers at me.

"Are you deaf? I said I have no..."

"Shut the fuck up! The idiot who drove you here is right in front of you and said idiot will pay for the bill."

What the fuck is wrong with this guy? I already stole his money, why would he pay for my hospital bill?

"I can't accept."

"I wasn't asking for your permission," he says, the beginning of a smirk displaying on his face as he presses on the nurse-call button.

Once again, I try to fight him, but he is clearly much stronger than I am and within less than a minute, a nurse comes in to check on me.

"The young Esteban is already awake?" the nurse asks as she walks in.

My eyes open widely at the name and the man throws me a meaningful look.

"I'll explain later," he whispers to me before he leans back up and adopts a more amenable expression as he turns toward the nurse. "Yes, he is, and my nephew is putting quite a bit of a fight because he wants to be out already. That little brat has always hated hospitals," he sighs.

Little brat? Fuck you, man!!

Who does he think he is!? I'm not a brat! I'm almost 18!! Yet, I'm feeling grateful for whichever reasons made him say I was his nephew. At least, they don't know my real name.

"People rarely like hospitals, Mr. Vargas," the nurse replies, rolling her eyes before she carries her attention to me. "Don't worry, Esteban. We will release you shortly. Your injuries are only superficial, and you can be thankful for your uncle to have been there with some friends. If those guys were able to cause such damage within only a couple of minutes, I can't begin to imagine what would be left of you without his intervention," she says, pointing a thumb at the man who has moved to the foot of the bed while she apparently intends to examine me.

"Yeah... I guess so..." I mutter.

Okay. So it seems like the guy was among those who saved me from Miguel and his gang. I can't really remember anything that happened before I lost consciousness, but now I understand his presence a little better, even if it doesn't explain it all.

"Don't be a kid, young man," she scolds me while she is placing a large cuff that soon begins to swell around my arm. "If Mr. Vargas hadn't been there, it's not at hospital you'd be, but at the morgue."

I glance toward the so-called Mr. Vargas who is still wearing his stern expression while he stares at me, his arms folded across his chest, and cocks his eyebrows. The nurse seems to be happy with my blood pressure and continues her examination by taking my temperature and checking the injuries on my face.

"Let's see the rest," she then says, untying the knot at the nape of my neck and pulling on my gown.

Ugh!! Isn't she supposed to shoo him out of the room before she does that, even if he is supposed to be my uncle? Not that I have ever been really modest, but I can't help a blush when she reveals my chest and the top of my happy trail. When I glance at the man over there and see his usual stern expression swerve toward something less rigid – is this old pervert getting lustful!? – my blush deepens, and my stupid cock even begins to swell a little bit.

Before it becomes embarrassing, I focus my attention on my own body. Bruises are forming on various parts of my upper half. The large purple welt on the left side of my ribcage is the most impressive, and the most sensitive it seems as I wince when she starts patting it.

"You had x-rays and an ultra-sound to make sure you had no broken bones or internal bleeding, but you're all good," the nurse explains as she ties the gown again. "As you can imagine, the bruises are going to turn darker, but it's nothing serious. All the scratches on your face and arms will disappear. All you need to do is clean them with an antiseptic three times a day and leave them to the open air so that they can dry faster. Apart from these, there's not much else. You were really lucky, Esteban."

"So this means I can leave?"

"Well, it's the doctor's decision but yes, you should be good to go shortly, once we have received the first blood results and your uncle is all set with administration. Meanwhile, we're going to bring you breakfast and you can use the attached bathroom here to shower and get dressed. Would you like coffee as well, Mr. Vargas?"

"I don't drink coffee, but if you have tea, it would be with pleasure," the man replies politely and with a warm smile that completely alters his usual features.

Oh, come on, Aaron! That man's at least 30 years old! And he's probably waiting for the perfect opportunity to beat the crap out of you for stealing his money!

"You'll have that in a few minutes," she replies with a wink as she heads for the door.

"Thank you! And tea for Esteban as well, please!"

"Hey! What if I wanted coffee!!?" I exclaim once the nurse has left. "Don't I get to choose?"

"No, you don't," he replies dryly, and his tone clearly leaves no place to argument. "Tea is much better for your health, and I have a feeling you don't need more stimulants..." he adds, glowering at me. "Now go get ready. There's a toiletry bag on the sink for you to shower. Just let me know if you need any help," he finally concludes, taking a seat in the reclining armchair by the window.

I decide to ignore his last remark and get off the bed. All the soreness wakes up, but I still manage to contain a wince once on my feet. What I can't help is another blush when I realize that I have to grip both sides of the gown behind my back to keep them together and to conceal my backside. I swear I can feel his stare and hear a chuckle behind me when I walk to the bathroom.

Once locked inside the rather small room, I get rid of the gown and first use the toilets. At the sink, I take in the damage on my face, which is not as disastrous as I feared. My right eye is slightly swollen and dark, then there are a few small bruises that match the ones I have a bit everywhere on my body, and finally, the left corner of my lower lip is quite badly cut. All in all, I was lucky indeed and perhaps I should consider thanking that Mr. Vargas, at least verbally.

I'm still wondering what he is doing here. Of course, I am grateful he saved me, even if I don't know the whole circumstances of how it happened. What I don't get is why he didn't just drop me in ER and left. Why did he stay? And what the heck is he expecting from me now?

While I shower, allowing my sore muscles to relax under the spray of warm water, all sorts of thoughts crowd my head and I'm also trying to figure out how I could escape this man. If I judge by the luxurious SUV he possesses, the chauffeur and his desire to pay for my hospital bill, Mr. Vargas is wealthy, probably some sort of CEO or maybe a doctor, so I hope he will soon have to leave to tend to his duties at work. Then I will be able to run away.

There are a few major problems, though. I don't know where my bags are, and I didn't see them in the room. That sucks because I need my stuff! Even if there's not much, it's still my belongings and all I possess. And I'm not talking about the plastic bag where I kept the most important things, like my wallet, my ID and other documents.

Shit!! Where are those? They were stuck between my jeans and my underwear... What if the doctors found them? Then they'd know my real name... Unless...

"Esteban! Hurry up!" the dry voice suddenly echoes from behind the door, so I stop the water stream. "The doctor is here and waiting to see you!"

"I'll be out in five minutes!" I reply.

"Three minutes!" he corrects me.

I flip him the bird although he can't see me and stop dwelling on my thoughts for now while I use a towel to wipe myself dry and dress up. A quick look in the mirror... I don't look any better than when I entered the bathroom, but my body hurts a little less. Still barefoot, I eventually walk out and meet an angry glare.

"It's been five minutes," Mr. Vargas comments with strong annoyance.

"I told you I needed five," I reply defiantly, staring into his darkening eyes while he raises a threatening finger.

His body is stiffening at my insolence, but I don't care. I don't know who this guy is, but I'm pretty sure he's not used to people messing with him.

"Mr. Esteban Vargas..." another voice says, one that belongs to a middle-aged woman with very dark hair and dressed in white overalls. "I'm Doctor Ramirez. How are you feeling?"

"I'm all good."

"I saw the nurse's report, I believe you."

"Can I leave now?" I ask with impatience.

"Soon, but first," she says, pulling a couple of sheets of paper from a folder, "I'd like to discuss this with you."

What she hands me looks like blood test results but I'm not an expert in those, so I don't really know what they mean. Someone else seems to be more capable though as he inches toward me and snatches the document from my hands.

"No MDMA?" he asks after a few seconds, frowning deeply at the results and obviously perplexed.

"Not at all. No other drugs than cannabis, Mr. Vargas," the doctor confirms, which causes the man to squint at me. What the hell is wrong with him? It's none of his business anyway! First, the check-up earlier, now the blood results. Don't they know what confidentiality means in this hospital? "But it's serious all the same. As you can see, the rates are quite high."

"I know it's serious, Doctor Ramirez, I wasn't minimizing the facts!"

"Of course," she replies before she returns her attention to me. "Esteban, these results clearly show you are a heavy consumer of cannabis, whichever form you use. Do you have any idea of the potential effects of this drug on your system and your brain? Do you know what sort of irreversible damage it can cause?"

"I have an idea, yeah... But that's my problem," I grumble.

"I gathered that much, Esteban, but you should consider quitting drugs."

"Oh, he will, Doctor Ramirez. Trust me, he will," the man groans with his deep voice, scowling meaningfully at me.

Is this guy a joke? I have lost count on how many times I asked, but who the fuck does he think he is? And how does he expect to make me stop?

"If you need any advice or support, we can totally provide this here."

"I'll be fine, I think. But I'll reach out to the hospital if necessary, Dr. Ramirez," Mr. Vargas says politely again and with another smile. It seems like only women deserve smiles from him. Not that I care. Not at all!

"Sounds good, I'll let you deal with this then. Esteban, make sure you get some rest in the next few days to recover from your injuries. I'll have a prescription for painkillers ready for you to help, and avoid fights in the future. Also, take care of yourself, and quit these drugs before it's too late."

"I'll make sure of that," the jerk insists while I just nod.

"Perfect! Everything will be ready within half an hour, Mr. Vargas," the doctor says before she finally walks out, leaving Mr. Vargas and me alone.

I don't know what has angered him so much, but he seems to be very tense and I'm tempted to run for the door. I actually try to do so and within two strides, he is right in front of me, blocking me the access out. As I thought, he is about an inch taller than I am, much larger too, and in my current condition, I doubt starting a fight with him would be a good idea. I could scream but something in his stance and aura prevents me from yelling for help.

I can't explain why exactly. It's not that he's frightening me because I'm not scared. I think I'm just impressed by this authority emanating from him, and at the same time, there's no real dread. On the contrary, I feel like I could trust him, even if I don't intend to. I think using force wouldn't be efficient with him, I need to work him out differently.

"Go sit in the armchair, take your medication and have your breakfast," he orders.

Well, it would be silly to go out barefoot anyway, and my stomach is growling, so I decide to comply and wait for a better opportunity. He doesn't move an inch and watches me eat the toasts on the tray, then drink the disgusting tea they left for me. Hopefully the painkillers will kick in quickly!

I take all my time, ignoring him and enjoying the silence for a good ten minutes. I have tons of questions for him, but I don't know where to start. I still don't get what he is doing here, or what he expects of me. Why did he say he would make sure I'd stop taking drugs? How does he intend to do this?

"Aaron."

One word.

It's only one word, but he gets my attention there. Hearing my name in his mouth makes me gasp and my heart lurches in my chest.

"Aaron Cox, residing in New Jersey."

Fuck!! So, that's what I thought. That bastard has my ID and everything that was with it in the plastic bag.

"Answer a few questions. Are you..."

"Fuck you! I'm not answering your questions before you answer mine!" I growl, rising to my feet. "And give me my belongings back!!!"

"SIT DOWN! NOW!"

His growl is not louder than mine. In fact, it's much lower, so as not to catch attention outside of the room I guess, but the way he seethes these words and his impressive figure are enough for my butt to fall back into the reclining armchair.

"You answer my questions first!" I insist.

"It doesn't work like this, Aaron. I don't have enough time before I need to go and take care of the administrative paperwork, so you will answer a few questions!" he says firmly. "Are you a runaway kid?"

"I'm not a kid!"

"You're not 18 yet, so you are a kid. Have you run away from your family?"

"You obviously know I'm coming from New Jersey, you've seen me walking the streets... It doesn't take a genius to..." I begin to say, but he closes the distance, bends over to lay his hands on the armrests of the chair and leans over until his face is only an inch from mine. Fuck!! Those dark brown eyes are scary!!

"JUST FUCKING ANSWER MY QUESTIONS AND QUIT THIS INSOLENCE!" he whisper-shouts at me, making me recline further into the backrest of the chair, hoping it would swallow me, but it doesn't.

"Yes, I ran away from my family," I reply with determination.

"How long ago?"

"Eight months."

"Why?"

"It's none of your..."

"WHY?"

"Strict catholic family... They didn't deal well with my homosexuality."

"Did they kick you out? Or did you really run away?"

"I ran away, I told y..."

"So they don't know where you are now?"

"No."

"Are you a homeless here? Or are you in one of those centers for youths?"

"I'm homeless. What's it to y..."

"How long have you been taking drugs?"

"I don't know! About three months!!"

"Only cannabis?"

"Yes!"

"No X?"

"No!!!"

"Liar!"

"The test was negative, the doctor tol..."

"Do you deal then?"

"No!!!"

"Why is there a package with plenty of ecstasy in your bag then?"

"What!? No!!"

"There is!"

"It's... it's not mine!" I stutter.

Dammit... Jaden... Did he really dare to put the drugs in my bag? How could he...

"Whose is it?" the man then asks, but I keep quiet. "WHOSE IS THIS PACKAGE? DID YOU STEAL IT?"

"No!!"

"Does it belong to the other boy who was with you the other night?"

I nod in answer.

"Where is he?"

"Dead..." I squeal.

"Shit! Same guys that beat you up last night?" I nod again. "Okay, we'll discuss that later, but you do smoke hashish, don't you?"

"Yes..."

"Why?"

"Because I need it!!"

"WHY?"

"Because it makes me feel better for a few hours!!!" I scream, trying to push him back, but he doesn't move at all.

"How long have you been prostituting?"

"About a month..."

"Why do you do this?"

"Because I like having sex with multiple partners!" I reply sarcastically, witnessing a brief shadow casting his eyes.

"And more seriously?"

"Because I need money to buy drugs!!! Isn't it obvious!? Are you dumb?"

"Why don't you get a job instead?"

"Because I'm a dropout in case you hadn't guessed!"

"That's a pathetic excuse."

"That's mine! Now that's enough!! You owe me some answers!"

Anger flashes in his eyes and I feel like he's getting even closer to me. My heart is beating at a crazy pace in my chest while he seems to ponder on his thoughts for a full minute.

"I don't owe you anything. At least for now. Now you'll listen to me very carefully because I won't repeat myself. I'll go to administration to pay for your hospital bill and get your prescription and your medication while you finish getting ready. And you'd better be ready when I get back. Then, we'll go to my place and..."

"What? No way!!"

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!!! We'll go to my place and you're going to settle down there. I'll provide you with details when we're home. Understood?"

He's got to be kidding me! Why the hell would I do this? Why the fuck would he do this? What's the counterpart? What is expecting of me?

"UNDERSTOOD?"

I nod in agreement, just willing him to go away and because I am too astounded to produce any sound.

"I DIDN'T HEAR WELL!"

"Yes... Sir..." I reply in a small voice that I wish was stronger, and this makes him crack the beginning of a smile.

"Good boy. Now get ready! I'll be back in ten minutes!"

With that, he walks out the door and I shake my head to recover my spirits. I don't have a minute to spare. If he thought I was going to follow him, he got mistaken! I don't even know who he is exactly, apart from his name, and I can't even be sure it's his real name. After all, he did lie about mine.

I don't know what he wants to do with me, but I'm not going to wait for him and find out. What if he wants to turn me into some sort of slave? Perhaps that's why he asked all those questions about my family and now he knows they don't know about my whereabouts. What if he's a serial killer? What if he simply plans on killing me because I stole his money?

I don't want to find out anyway, so I rush to my shoes and swiftly put them on, not bothering to lace them. He left his hoodie on the bed and after briefly searching it, I find a thick wallet full of dollars!

Well, sorry Mr. Vargas!

I grab the notes and shove them in the pocket of my jeans, discard the leather case on the bed and put on the hoodie. After a quick tour of the bedroom, hoping to see my own wallet, I grunt at not finding my belongings, but I can't stay here any longer, so I dart for the door.

Peeking into the corridor, I can't help smiling. Luck is on my side at last! The area is empty and the stairwell is only a few feet away from my room. I run down the staircase as fast I can – or as my sore body will let me. I assume that I still have a good five minutes before he returns to the bedroom, but I don't want to take any risk. Once on the ground floor, I find myself in another corridor which is much more crowded. I mingle among people and approach a board with a map of the building.

I spot the main entrance with the reception, but there's another exit on the side that will be more discreet and on the opposite side of the administration service, so I hurry in this direction. Freedom is here, only a few yards away.

I exhale a deep breath of relief as soon as I pass the sliding doors that open on a fairly empty parking lot. It's still early and there are very few cars here, but I bet it will be packed in a few hours when visiting hours begin. The pedestrian entrance is on the far right, so I decide to use the car entrance which is closer and start walking across the lot. A big SUV is coming my way, which almost makes me turn around and run for the hills, and as it parks, I slow down my pace.

Another sigh of relief, it's only a woman.

Too focused on her, I didn't notice the black sedan on my left nor its door opening. The only moment I register what is happening is when a firm ebony hand grabs my arm and leads me to the car. The bald man, who is holding a cell phone, is huge and dressed in a perfect black suit with a tie. His rigid expression manages to freeze me on my spot. I am tempted to scream for help, but the man speaks first as the woman of the SUV hurriedly passes by us.

"Come on, Aaron! Didn't you see the car was here?" the man says playfully, yet firmly leading me to the back of the car.

The woman must have been late for an appointment or something because she is already disappearing inside the building. Before I know it, the door of the car is pulled open and the hunk shoves me on the backseat. I try to get out, but the door is locked and seconds later, the man is back behind the steering wheel, the phone to his ear.

"Ivan, it's Anton. For your information, the boy is with me in the car."

"Let me out!!!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Don't worry, he's locked in and I'll pull up the privacy window," that dumbass chuckles.

"Let me the fuck out!" I scream, pulling on the door handle.

"Yeah, he has your sweatshirt on. See you in five minutes!" he says before he hangs up as a partition window rises. Before it reaches the roof, the man turns around and looks at me. "You're in fucking trouble, boy," he says with a smile that displays perfectly white teeth.

What the heck?

Published on 30 October 2019

Kind of a rough encounter, right? Now you've finally met Ivan for real, but not only. If you remember the character chapter at the beginning of the book, Anton is another major character that you'll see quite often. Funnily enough, like Tony, he is a character who became far more important than I thought he would as more and more chapters were written, but I'll let you discover how much of an anchor he is to Ivan.

That's it for now.

I should let you know that I'm flying to Dubai tomorrow evening, only returning on Monday night next week, and that I haven't started editing the next chapter at all, so depending on how busy I am when I return, I'm not sure it'll be up as early as Wednesday. I'll keep you informed on my wall in any case.