Date: Thu, 29 Jun 2006 00:29:50 -0700
From: Gabriel Duncan <lonelyocean@alamedanet.net>
Subject: Angel  chapter 10

This story is copyright Gabriel Duncan 2004-2005.
You shouldn't read this if you're not legal age.
This story is fiction.  Charecters, places and events--
All fake.

Thanks to Nifty.  Here is . . .



Sight: Part Ten of Angel
Gabriel Duncan

"...From the corner of my eyes
I see him in his sleep
In his peaceful slumber
I have to count sheep
I have to try not to remember
Damn him..."


Something was chasing me through a forest. I couldn't remember how I got
there: into being chased. But that was something I had no time for
wondering. I had to run. My life depended on it. I ran as fast as I could
towards a river. It was wide and the water flowed swiftly.

I jumped into it immediately, and without thought. It was imperative and
natural, to be swimming through the water as fast as I could to get to the
other side. But halfway through, it caught up with me. And I was pushed
underwater. By hands, or paws or hooves . . . I don't know what they were.

I tried to struggle, tried to break free. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.
And so I sank further. It held me down until I had to breathe. Until I was
breathing water. Until I was choking to death. Until I was lifeless. And
then I sank farther.

When I looked up, I saw the outline of my father above me. He didn't look
down. He brushed past me, his boot hitting my side. And he walked to the
other shore and away from me.

I sank so deeply that everything around me was dark. I closed my eyes for a
long while and focused on how it felt. The sinking, the gravity pulling my
body through the water. When I opened my eyes, I saw Scott. And my mother.
They were both lying in a bed of flowers. The moon rose and the flowers
bloomed into a deep red. They bloomed and spread outwards from their
bodies.

I felt confused. I didn't know where I was. Or why I was standing over
them. The water had disappeared, and so had the feelings of being chased.
Scott was mumbling something in his sleep. I moved close, turning my head
to listen more carefully to what he was saying. But I couldn't make it out.

Suddenly, my mother awoke with a shriek. And she turned towards me and
said, "Run!"

Run . . . . What do you think that means?



Where's Poochie?

Adam awoke in a panic. His dream had seemed so real. And his mother's words
seemed to hold darker, more sinister meanings. His father was looking for
him. And Adam knew it. That was a truth that was so clear to him that it
didn't matter whether he found out in a dream or not. He knew the phone
would ring today, and it would be Jack.

When he sat up, he didn't realize where he was. Even though it was light
out, a storm arose from inside and blotted out the sun. The walls seemed to
close in on him and his breathing grew labored. What was happening? He
tried to take a deep breath and figure it all out. But, he couldn't catch
his breath. He couldn't breathe. He cried out for someone, anyone who might
hear him.

Macy was in the kitchen, writing pleadings on her laptop. She jumped back
from the table immediately, started into alertness. Adam was in trouble!
She hurried to the guestroom and flung the door open. Her nephew was rolled
into a ball, crying.

His aunt came close, to hold him. He was cold, and shivering beneath her
arms.

"Don't touch me!" He lashed out.

Macy was shocked. "Adam, it's your Aunt Macy."

She'd never dealt with a situation like this. She didn't even know what
kind of situation this was. Adam was crying violently. Macy placed her hand
on his back.

"What's wrong Adam?" Her words were as panicked as his behavior.

Adam cried harder. He didn't have the words to tell her. He didn't have the
voice. He was back in the hunt again; back in the forest. The image of his
father was chasing him. Was it true? Was it true?

Macy hugged Adam close, "Adam, please tell me what's wrong. I want to help
you."

 The boy was inconsolable. Macy could do nothing but rub his back and tell
him that he was safe. He just had a bad dream. But he was safe now. Poochie
stood on the opposite side of Adam and wagged his tail nervously, licking
at Adam's face. Adam grabbed Poochie and hugged him close.

"It was horrible." Adam choked out.

Macy asked, "What was?"

She wanted to know more. She wanted to know if it was really just a
dream. Macy consoled Adam as he cried more. And when the shaking stopped,
she stayed holding him. Poochie was lying beside them now. Adam watched the
sun slope lazily in the sky as what seemed like an eternity passed. Macy
could feel her nephew had calmed some.

This is something I shouldn't press, she thought, it has something to do
with what happened back home. But I can't press it or he'll close up
forever. Just like me.

Macy hugged Adam close to her.

"If you want to talk about it, you can talk to me any time."

Her words seemed to bounce off him. He couldn't tell if Macy knew they did
when he said, "Thank you."

But you wouldn't understand.



Another boy sat, daydreaming, twirling a pen in his hand. The sun shone
down on him, through a large window he'd found looming on more than on
lonely night. His eyes cast their sight outward, across the dining room
table and through to the neighbor's lawn. He'd spent a lot of time there
lately. Everywhere he went; he sat there and stared at it. He'd begun to
realize just how much a prisoner he was in his own life. This wasn't a
particularly sunny realization; even though the sun beat down upon him ^ึ
or, rather, off him. He felt like a shell. Somewhere around him, a woman
talked on a phone.

This boy just had to wonder if the past was just a well-executed plot. No,
that won't do you any good to hear out-of-context. Sam was really wondering
if everything his ex-boyfriend had told him was just some well-orchestrated
lie. He wondered if the cigar box, full of six months of memories and
memorabilia was really just empty. If those pictures or pages or notes
really meant as much as he thought they did. Or was he just a pawn in a
game he never knew he was playing, and would never understand?

Why is this happening to me?



Macy and Helen had decided to introduce their two boys. They had been
holding their weekly girls' night since the first time they had, almost
three years ago. Helen and Macy had become good friends after Macy had
rescued Helen from the terror of a testosterone-induced man. Macy is a
strong woman. And she prides herself on her protectiveness and feelings of
fairness, something that she strives to achieve every day. Excuse, not
accuse.

It was just convenient that both boys needed cheering up. Neither one was
trying to encourage them to become boyfriends. But both boys needed a
friend and Macy and Helen would both find it a relief to have time to
themselves.

Helen's son, Sam, had been in a rut for a while. For a week since his
boyfriend, Jason had ended their relationship. Helen listened to her son
lament. His whole world was crashing down on him. It was sudden, she had to
admit. But there was something about that boy that she never seemed to
trust, anyway. She knew Jason would end up hurting Sam.

It all started when Jason cheated on Sam. He'd told her son about his
indiscretion one night on the phone. She wasn't listening purposely. But
it's hard not to listen when someone is yelling. Even across the spacious
house they lived in and through two closed doors. But things seemed to calm
down. Sam and Jason seemed to have reached some sort of resolve with the
problem. And so, Sam ascended back into his cloud. Helen loved seeing him
so happy.

That was short lived. A month later, she would hear yelling in Sam's room
again, and then crying. When Helen would come to his room to find out what
was wrong, Sam lashed out at her. He was known to do that when he was
feeling upset. But it bothered her every time; even if she knew his
excuse. But Sam calmed down^ืor became less angry^ืand told her that Jason
had broken up with him.

Sam was crushed. And, ever since then, he had been moping. He would spend
hours alone, writing in the dining room; in the den, watching movies.





Macy brushed the hair out of Adam's eyes. "What happened Adam?"

Adam was in a storm. All around him lay the pieces of his past, all laid
out before him, wherever he looked. Adam could point out the first time he
had realized there was something different about his family. Every scream
or yell or punch. He remembered playing in his room, wishing that someone
was there to keep him company. He felt the same aloneness he felt then. It
was the subtle cold that brought him back down. Adam could see it all
now. And, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide from it. The images
were burnt into the back of his eyelids suddenly.

Adam considered the possibilities. He knew they would go to the house to
question him. If he hadn't cleaned up the mess, they would notice it right
away and arrest him. Maybe he should call Scott's parents and tell them
what happened. They would be worried sick. And his mom would want to
know. He felt like he owed that to her. But, what if Dad wasn't home? What
if he was already on his way? Would he know Adam would run to Macy? What if
the police didn't take it seriously? What if Jack found some way to turn it
around on him? What if he found some way to make this all an elaborate
story that Adam made up to explain why he ran away? What if he had to go
back?

Poochie stirred. Adam and Macy watched him race out of the room. They heard
the sound of fabric shifting in the entryway, then a loud thunk. The sounds
of dragging rushed towards them. Poochie had returned with his leash. He
stopped in front of Adam and dropped the leash in his lap.

Macy couldn't help but laugh. "Go walk your dog, Adam."

"I wanted to explore anyway." He sniffed.

"Go explore," Macy's smile felt like a ray of pure sunshine.



As soon as Adam left, Macy sat down at her laptop again. She tapped out a
few lines and then stopped. She closed her laptop and flipped open her
address book.

"Hello?" A quiet, male voice answered the phone.

Helen was right, Macy thought, he is depressed.

"Is your mom there?"

"Hold on."

Macy could hear the phone touch down on a surface, somewhere. Sam called
out for his mother. Another line clicked.

"Got it," Was Helen's greeting.

"Want to bring Sam over for dinner tonight?"

"I thought we weren't going to have girls' night, tonight? Did your nephew
not show?"

"Yeah, he's here. And there's something going on with him." Macy looked
into the bedroom, where she could still se Adam in a panic. "He needs
cheering up. And Sam does, too. It might be good for them to have a
friend."

"Well, I don't know if Sam will be up for it, but I'll ask him."

Macy could here the muffled sounds of Sam and Helen speaking to each other.

"Okay," Helen said, "When's dinner?"

"In two hours."

"We'll be there."

"See you then."



The neighborhood was quiet, suburban. It was closer to rural, but there
were still too many houses around to actually be rural. Poochie lead Adam
around as if he already knew the place and the boy followed. There was one
house at the bottom of the street that Poochie loved. It was a big red
house surround by a cedar fence. Over, beside and under the fence grew
flowers of all sorts. And the trees were alive with the sounds of playing
squirrels and bird song. Adam let Poochie do his business as he pondered
the size of the giant cedar in the front yard. Places in L.A. weren't like
this at all. He wondered who lived there. But Poochie began pulling again
and Adam was lead off to someplace new.



Adam came back a few minutes after Macy hung up with Helen.

"Do you know how to cook?" She asked Adam.

"Of course," Adam told her. "Why?"

"We're having a big dinner tonight. A few of my friends are coming
over. They're all really nice people. You'll like them."

"Okay," Adam needed something to get his mind off things. And a dinner
party sounded like fun. "When do we start?"

"Now," Macy put away her laptop and brought a cutting board and a sack of
potatoes to the table. "I think you know what to do."

Adam groaned.

"Come on!" Macy goaded him, "This will be fun. Besides, one of my friends
is bringing her son."

Adam looked up at Macy, who grinned.

"Hey, I just thought you might want some company." She said, "Besides, he
needs cheering up. Helen said he was going to bring some video games. So
you two can just, do whatever. You still like video games, right?"

Adam started peeling, "Yeah, they're okay."

"Good," Macy was rummaging through pots and pans, "You'll like Sam."

"What's he like?" He turned a potato over in his hands, feeling the word
roll around in his mouth. He'd never met someone named Sam before.

"Well, he's shy." There was Adam again, not with a sack of potatoes and a
black-handled peeler, but a red fire truck and a Sesame Street brownstone
that just hit four-alarm status. "He's smart, he reads a lot. And he
writes, just like you. I think you'll like him. I showed him something you
wrote for me a while ago."

"What?!"

"Remember that poem about snails you wrote?"

"You showed him that?!"

"He thought it was great."

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"He's single."

"I can't believe you." Adam really wasn't as shocked or offended as he
tried to be.

Macy realized what Adam thought she was implying. "That's not what I'm
saying at all. You don't know anyone here yet, so you might as well meet my
best friend's son. Besides, it's not like you two won't have anything to
talk about. You're both gay!"

Adam couldn't argue with that. "When will they be here?"

"In two hours."