“Tell me about Liam.”
He sighed. “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know more about you.”
He laughed…not out of joy, but out of nervousness. He scratched at the beard that was filling in on his face. “We don’t have that much time in our lives for all the stuff I could tell you.”
“Give me something, Henry. Anything. I think I deserve to know who you are.” He paused for a long period of time.
“Okay. You’re right. I’ll tell you a little bit.” I wanted to know all of Henry: the good, the bad, the ugly, and the brilliance of the man that I wanted to share the rest of my life with. I would be thankful for anything.
“When Roger initially pulled me into the program, I continued my life with my given name -- Luke Richards. Shortly after my two year probationary period, Roger assigned me a new identity. Liam Henry Daniels.” I was getting annoyed because he already told me that part. I wanted more.
“It was difficult for me to accept this change. I wasn’t always in an orphanage. I have some memories of my mum. I can still hear her in my dreams call me by my given name. I have carried one picture of her and me...forever, I suppose. Roger never knew I still had it. I hid it from him.”
Henry got up and went into his dresser drawer. He pulled out a picture from a box in the top drawer. He looked at it longingly for a moment, gently touching the picture, as if he could feel her. “Here.” He handed me the picture. It was creased and aged.
I was in awe of her beauty, but they looked nothing like one another. I gathered that he must look like his father. “Wow, Henry, she’s beautiful, and you were…are pretty cute yourself.”
He smiled at me. “She was. I only have vague memories of her.” He was silent for a moment, fighting with his emotions. He closed his eyes tight and took several deep breaths. No doubt he was reminiscing of the days with his mom. I could see the emotions being pushed back down. I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to know.
“How did you end up in an orphanage?” He refilled my glass, then took another long pull of the whiskey himself.
“She was murdered…in front of me.” I gasped. “My father wasn’t around so off I went.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve tried to bury it in my past, but I don’t want to let the few memories that I have go. Shit.” His voice cracked. “She was murdered on my fifth birthday.” I reached out to him, and he sat down next to me. “She was making me a cake. She saved every spare coin she could to buy me a toy truck.” He went silent.
“Go on.”
He cleared his throat again. “So Roger and his goons, our instructors, would beat me and make me repeat my new name. Sometimes, I would just be tied up; other times, blindfolded and tied up. It would get to be so brutal that there were times I would throw up or pass out from the pain.”
My heart ached for him, seeing that his pain was real and was so very deep. He took another swig from the bottle. He rested his elbows on his legs, dangling the bottle in one hand, and put his face in the other. It took me a minute to realize that he was trying to hide that he was crying.
“I’m so sorry you were put through all that.” He looked up at me and his tears flowed steadily from his fading eyes. All the abuse, all the lies, all the mental bullshit that was happening right outside the windows, plus the murder of his mother, was tearing him apart.
“So, you see, I can’t be Luke.” He choked out a sob. “That boy doesn’t exist anymore, but even if he did, he would be mentally torn up. And I can’t be Liam. If I were, I would be full of aggression and ridiculous amounts of hatred. All I have left is Henry. And you. I’m nothing without you. I needed to separate myself from all of that, and shut off all of those emotions.” I reached over and wiped tears from his cheeks. “I was so afraid to tell you any of this. I thought you would run, far and fast.”
“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?” He nodded.
“I’m just so fucked up. I tried to bury it. It runs so close to the surface, but yet so deep.” I grabbed him and held him while he cried. I couldn’t believe he hid all of his pain from me. I was so furious that he was a pawn used in some sick and twisted game of life, power, and greed.
Before the virus was released, he was so calm and happy-go-lucky when we were together. It was like a levee had broken. He cried in my arms. Seeing him so distraught, and me trying to keep him from shattering, was new for us. Henry was always the brave one but, from that point forward, I saw him differently. Sophie was right. He was fragile. Much more fragile than I could have ever imagined.