About an hour later, mom called for dinner from downstairs. I could hear the clinking of plates as they set up the table, the tearing of paper towels, and the distribution of utensils hitting the wooden dining room table. I slowly sat up being sure not to wake Andrew just yet. At the end of the bed sat the bag full of all of the medical prescriptions the doctor recommended I give to Andrew for the next week or so. I softly tossed the comforter off of me and crawled off the bed to wash my face and hands before dinner. 

Turning the nob to the tap water shut, I watched as small drops of water continued leaking through the faucet and falling into the drain making a small clicking sound each time a drop fell. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a man. He looked calm and under control, with clothes on his back, good people to call his own, and a roof over his head. Andrew couldn't say that when he looks in the mirror. Instead, he sees something completely different from me. I couldn't exactly say what he sees but I can only guess, even then, my guess was probably not nearly as bad as he really had it. 

My hand reaches for the towel on the sink counter to wipe off the water on my face, a little bit of stubble becoming more and more present on my hollowed cheeks. I closed to bathroom door behind me and carefully pulled the corner of the comforter off of Andrew. I didn't want to touch him while he was not conscious since I know he's not that comfortable yet. The cold in my room with a few gentle words should do the trick. 

"Andrew. Dinners ready, you gotta put more meat on your skin and bones." I whispered to him slowly hoping he was registering something I said. His nose wiggled and his face scrunched. I could feel an 'Aww' bubbling in the back of my throat. He shivered from the lack of warmth that I took from him, he still didn't have a shirt on since we left the hospital, only some loose sweats the doctors gave to him to walk from the room to the car before recommending he doesn't put on too much clothing to prevent sweating which could cause infection. I still have to change his bandages. 

"Dinner?" He whispered through his sleep, his eyes still closed with tear stains that ran from under his lashes to the wet spot on the pillow his head rested on. His hands came out from under the comforter to cover his face as he continued to rub himself further into the pillow.

"Heh, yes dinner Andrew, come on," I stood up and grabbed a shirt from the closet.

"I can go three days without eating I swear." He spoke through the pillow. I know that isn't supposed to be funny but considering it's Andrew we're talking about I didn't fail to bite back a chuckle because it's true.

"Not in this house you don't!" My laugh filled the room as a cranky Andrew peered his eyes up at me and the shirt I dangled in front of him. 

"Don't let me forget to change your bandages before bed tiger," He slowly sat himself up with a wince of pain from his side, his hand moving to hold it before taking a breath in and out.

"In for 4, out for 4," I hear him repeat to himself. I wonder why he counts it out loud. He opened his eyes and pulled the shirt out of my grasp with a mumbled thank you before tugging the clothing over his head. "I- I think I can walk down the stairs on my own," His eyes met mine, I stepped back a couple of steps but stayed close enough to grab him if he needed me to.

"The floors yours," My hand gestured to the floor like a butler welcoming home his master. "easy tiger don't get too ahead of yourself." I smiled at him as his shaky hands pushed himself up off of the bed and his legs wobbled underneath his body before finding questionable balance. I don't know how he was faking being okay for so long, but now that he's taking medication to help him physically, his body is breaking down to rebuild itself with much-needed medical assistance. I can imagine he's sore after having doctors poking and prodding at his body, especially after a fall to the head. 

"Shut up I got this," He tried to smack my hand but missed with a slow reaction and cranky face. "I don't need help and I'm not some old man I'm just beat up all over from everything always trying to kill my ass." I shook my head at that not laughing at the joke of his possible death. His eyes looked behind him to see me looking at him with disapproval and a shake of the head. "Heh- too soon?" He giggled awkwardly before continuing down the stairs. 

I'm practically on his ass the whole way down since he could actually fall despite his confidence. Maybe he hit his head a little too hard. Walking side by side into the dining room we're greeted with the fresh, warm smell of pasta and garlic bread, with a large bowl of caesar salad in the middle of the table looking sexy as hell. The three toddlers sat in their booths swinging their feet and giggling in anticipation of dinner, roughhousing around with each other before mom could catch them. 

A gentle chuckle slipped Andrew's lips catching my attention. He looked at the babies with admiration and adoring swoons in his eyes. His features seemed to soften as he watched them, almost lovingly. Since the week and a half that Andrews has been here, the kids have warmed up to him greatly. Ever since I started calling Andrew 'Tiger', the girls and Cleo started calling him tiger too. 

I felt my heart skip a beat when he blew a kiss to the girls from across the room, earning a giggle fit to erupt and a Cleo yelling ew like the 5-year-old toddler he was. I turned my head from his view, walking past him to put myself to use and help my parents in the kitchen. I grabbed the pan of perfect, mouth-watering garlic bread that glistened with butter and slightly burnt edges to give it that beautiful crunch. God, I love food. It's an obsession. 

"Keaton you look like you are burning up love," My mom pulled my face this way and that to see my flushed face only heat up more and more as she studied me. 

"Mom stop I'm not burning up it's just hot in the damn kitchen," She let me go and smacked my shoulder. 

"Language mister." She scowled before getting up on her tippy toes to kiss my cheek and bring the pot of pasta to the dining room table. I followed close behind, almost drooling all over the garlic bread from all the smells in the kitchen hitting me at once. When I turned the corner into the dining room, my eyes found Andrew snapping the velcro of the baby bibs safely onto the small necks of all of my siblings who giggled and played with his face as he smiled seemingly in heaven at their gentle touch. The small hands of my sister touching his face with great curiosity was pure and almost too fucking heartwarming. Her small fingers traced over every curve along with the gentle slope of his nose and a cute sprinkle of freckles that dusted his cheeks. My heart felt like it fell out of my ass.

I took a deep breath and continued moving my feet not realizing I stopped walking. Andrew stayed in the seat close to Jean, my youngest sister leaving a seat open next to him for me to take. Placing the garlic bread down on the table and making my way over to the seat assigned to me next to Andrew, mom and dad sparked conversation for the rest of the night, steering clear of acknowledging today's events at the hospital. 

Mom's cooking couldn't be topped as usual and dad had one too many stories from work to reshare with us. All dinner I couldn't help but continue glancing over at Andrew. He seemed so out of place even as he tried to understand half of what my dad was going on about. I felt kind of guilty. I hate to compare but he's definitely had it worse. I wouldn't say that getting abused is any better but I was really young and the trauma prevents me from remembering most of it from time to time anyway. 

He's had to deal with being handed off as an object his whole life. From one hell to another without any way of actually knowing what hope of possible freedom even was. How did he ever escape? Why did he trust me to bring him into my home? At least I could say I had somewhat of a childhood and a normal life. Mom needs to know regardless. 

Once dinner was over and the table was cleared mom called for Andrew to head upstairs to shower. This is my chance. 

Dad walked out of the kitchen while mom finished drying the dishes and kissed her temple, before turning to make his way to their room. I need to tell her now while she's alone. She's always been reasonable and kept a cool head, if I were her I would have no idea what to do with the information I now know but I guess that's why I'm going to tell her instead.

With a deep breath in and a weak sigh out, I walked up next to her only wanting to keep the conversation at a whisper.

"Can I talk to you?" She handed me a glass plate and I reached for the towel to do the unsaid task of drying dishes. At least my shaky hands could stay busy with the mindless chore.

"Only about anything," Her shoulder nudged mine but I couldn't look up because I'd only chicken out. The situation and weight of the problem would only be that much more real.

"When I left the hospital room with Andrew, what did the doctor tell you?" The pile of plates next to me earned itself another plate that followed with a clinck sound as I placed it on top, reaching across mom for another dish. 

The baby blue towel in my hand made circular motions on the plate clearing the water off the porcelain surface that reflected my face. Glancing over at the short stack next to me, I could see her brows furrowed and circular motions come to a full stop on the surface of her plate.

"I- I mean I'm sure I've already heard everything but I just wanted to know if the doctor stressed anything to you about him." Her shoulders slouched and her wet plate was back on the drying rack. All I got was a shake of the head before a long silence found us in the kitchen. Almost as heavy as the bush I'm currently beating around. My mom might be cool-headed but she's sensitive when it comes to the security of others. I'm sure that she still feels guilty that she didn't see the signs of Andrew being in pain. None of us did though, he did a great job hiding it. 

"Mom I just need to talk to you about something Andrew told me when-"

"The doctor didn't tell you everything." She cut me off, her eyes searching mine as I gently placed my now dry plate on top of the pile of dry dishes that needed to be put away. I waited silently for her to continue but she hesitated. I took her towel along with mine and set them down on the counter gesturing for the table where she could sit and talk to me.

"Now, I wasn't supposed to tell you," That's not what I need to hear right now. "but I feel like you should know in case he goes into a panic and blacks out when I'm not here." Her fingers started to fiddle with the white table cloth that was covered in pretty silhouettes of flowers before she checked behind her as if to secure her conscious self that we were in fact alone. Now I'm getting fucking nervous.

"We don't speak a word of this to your father; the doctor showed me some of his past medical records from his previous homes," She took a deep shaky breath and glanced up at me. My leg was lightly bouncing beneath the table. "She pulled out several files, each file being a different place he lived, I'm not sure how many there were." Her head shook and her eyes closed as if reimagining the scene when she was told things I didn't know about. 

"I don't want you to freak out in my kitchen and run to Andrew because it will only make matters worse for the boy, but the doctor led me to believe that she guessed he might have not only been abused but used sexually." She whispered out the last couple of words before looking to me for a reasonable reaction. I probably would have had one but I'm still trying to figure out how to react to the news I received from Andrew himself. It just seemed so unrealistic. 

Don't get me wrong I know and am fully aware that human trafficking is very real, but it's not every day that someone has to look it in the eyes and face it head-on. They don't really teach you how to handle this shit in school. My mom placed her small hand over mine on the table throwing me a weak smile. 

"Mom I know." Her smile slipped and confusion crossed her features. "His meds probably spoke for him but he told me what he was or at least what happened before he came here." The air in the room grew cold and my mom straightened her posture in the wooden chair. I glanced behind her where the entryway was for the dining room and the kitchen to make sure no one was standing around.

"He was forced into prostitution. He said he was a sex slave but he was technically an underage male prostitute." My lips copied my mother's action as she pursed her own and her hands fell to her lap. "I wanted to talk to you about this because I'm sure that his disappearance didn't go unnoticed, I thought you might have an idea about how we could help him more and who we should go to about all of this."

She picked her head up and stood up from her seat, only the same weak smile she held since this conversation began looking feeble on her tired figure. I followed her cue to stand before she pulled me into a delicate hug. 

"I'm going to save that boy. Just like I saved you." She whispered her promise in my ear, slightly soothing my worry and taking a little bit of the weight off my shoulders. 

"I want to help."