Date: Sun, 17 May 2009 21:34:37 -0400
From: Sean E <ekidky@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Bully and the Bullied - Part 9

DISCLAIMER: I won't say anything more than just the usual - if you
shouldn't be reading this, then don't get caught!  This is a short story
that involves boys who are coming-of-age, containing things that boys get
into, including sexual situations, feelings, etc.  It is my first attempt
at fiction, having written only one other series based on my personal
experiences growing up, titled "Life's Road of Discoveries" (also found
here on Nifty in the Young-Friends section, posted early in 2008).  This
series, based in the mid-1970's era, has no basis in truth, whereas all
characters and situations are fictional - any resemblance in real life is
purely coincidental.

This story will spread across 9 or 10 parts of varying lengths, and I hope
that those of you who take to it and read it through will enjoy it.  As
always, any feedback is welcome (to EKidKy@hotmail.com).


I sincerely hope you like it.  :o)


The Bully and the Bullied
Part Nine - When Life Comes Full Circle
---------------------------------------


[SPECIAL NOTE: Thanks to everyone who has written and asked about me and
this series or more.  As of now it is mid-May 2009, and I know, almost 6 to
7 weeks since the last installment.  I just wanted to assure anyone who is
interested - I do intend and will finish this series (it still has a couple
of more chapters to go, if not more).  Life has been - interesting, to say
the least, for the last few weeks, thats all - i won't offer excuses, just
that I have had to recoup a little from some things.  Ill try and do a
little better about my timing, as things kind of get normalized again
around here.  So, for what its worth, here's a big ((( Hugg ))) for all of
you.  Thanks! :o) ]


    "Oh crap, oh crap... oh shiiiittttttt!"

    Jeremy was quietly muttering to himself as his body was rotated upward
again, bringing him to where he could stand on his feet.  The physical
therapist, a young man who looked to be in his mid-20's or so, stood next
to him on one side - ignoring the obscenities as he worked the platform's
controls.  On the other side stood Michael, looking onward in apprehension
as he watched the older teen's face contort from the discomfort.

    It was a bright and hazy Sunday afternoon that filtered in through the
rooms' windows.  For the second day in a row, Jeremy had been wheeled into
the workroom in an attempt to return him to some level of normalcy in his
life.  After having been stretched on his back for the past 9 days, he
found that returning to a sitting or standing position was disorienting and
left him lightheaded.  In addition, the extensive repair that had been
exerted internally to his colon area also made him uncomfortable each time
he shifted his weight.  At first it had been almost unbearable, like pins
rubbing from the inside outwards to other parts of his body.  Still though,
as he adjusted to the new contractions and use of various muscles in around
his bowels, the conditions improved and he was able to stand upright with a
little help.

    Up until the day before, Jeremy's diet had almost consisted of pure
liquids and that had left him in a weakened state.  The various doctors
intended to minimize the impact on his digestive tract, giving his colon
some time to heal before it recouped more solid waste to dispose of.  Now
he was being given more solid rations of high energy foods, and it was
paying off handsomely.  He found his strength returning rapidly and it
encouraged him to keep pressing forward.  Emotionally, he wanted to block
out the past for a moment and instead focus on getting better.  Still, the
pain was a sharp reminder to him that he had limits, and at some point he
was going to have to address all of it one way or another.  Shutting his
eyes he shook away the nausea and disorientation creeping up on himself.
When he opened them again he took a deep breath and focused before nodding.
Both of his attendants released him slowly so that he could stand
independently on his own.

    "Not bad there, not bad at all," came the encouragement from the
therapist.

    Jeremy grunted, but said nothing in reply.  Inwardly he was pleased,
having seen his own improvement compared to the day before.  He had hardly
been able to stand then, even assisted, before the nausea induced headaches
and other incredibly intense areas of pain.  The first therapist that
worked with him over the weekend, an old black man who had a kindly face
and unusual friendliness about him, had cautioned him it would be rough at
first.  Still, Jeremy silently acknowledged the old man's remarks that as
his strength returned so would these tasks become easier to bear.  Right
now was living proof of it.  Jeremy did feel stronger, more centered than
before, and now he was able to stand on his own.

    He tentatively took a step forward, his hands clinging to the parallel
rails that ran along each side.  Both of his attendants immediately stepped
in again, ready to assist if needed but Jeremy waved them back.  In
painstaking steps he moved forward, shifting his weight first left and then
right, progressively working muscles that had now been dormant for over a
week.  At first his arms bore the bulk of his weight, but slowly he began
to transfer that responsibility to upper thighs and then his legs.

    After traveling a distance of several feet he suddenly felt exhausted.
He might have sunk to the floor if not for the careful attention both the
young therapist and his friend Michael had been giving him.  Stepping in,
the older man caught the teen from behind, pulling him in close and using
both arms to hold him up.  Jeremy shut his eyes, biting his lip under the
man's support; their bodies closely spooned in contact with one another
felt odd.  In that instant, memories of other similar encounters entered
reflexively, and the unpleasantness unsettled him to the point he began
shaking nervously.  He knew the man was only helping him and that he should
shake it off, but he couldn't push the memories away.  He became tense and
rigid, fighting the urge to lash out backward and attempt to get away.

    The older man sensed the change in his young charge and guessing to the
reason, he leaning in speaking calmly and clearly.  "Jeremy, I understand
how you might be feeling right now, and believe me it's okay, but try to
relax.  I am not going to molest you or anything, you have my word, I'm
only holding you until you feel ready again, all right?  If you don't feel
ready very soon then that's okay too, we'll get Michael here to bring the
chair around."  Jeremy shut his eyes tightly, fighting to keep from
responding to the fear he felt.  He didn't like being held so close, didn't
like the fact he could feel so much of the other man holding him in such
likeness as he had been held by his father before.  His body was starting
to fight against instincts he could not control, at least until he suddenly
heard another voice by his side, speaking quietly into his ear.  "Jermz, he
isn't your Dad... He's just a friend, you'll be okay, I promise."

    Jeremy opened his eyes to see Michael, amazed as if he only now
recognized he was there.  His voice, spoken softly but firmly, had an
impact however, calming the wave of fear he felt. He wondered briefly who
was this kid and why did he have such a hold on him as he did? It seemed
whenever Michael was around, he had this tranquil aurora surrounding him
that just made Jeremy feel more calm and at ease.  Recognizing the
intensity of the moment, he relaxed a little, making the other boy smile.
"Heck," Michael continued, "for whatever its worth, I'm here too, and I'm
not going to let anyone hurt you."

    "You would be surprised," Jeremy gasped out after a moment, "at how
much it does help, knowing you're here."  With that he took a deep breath
and stood upright again.  As he regained his strength there, standing under
his own power, the therapist smiled and slowly released his hold.  Slowly
the three of them made their way to the end of the bars, where Michael
quickly retrieved a nearby wheelchair for his friend.  Helping the older
boy sit down, he watched as Jeremy looked up at the older man with a
sheepish expression.  "I'm sorry; I really didn't mean to do that. I know
you're only trying to help me, honest."

    The other man shook his head as knelt down in front of the boy.  "Don't
be, I understand completely.  I don't know all the particulars of your
case, but I do know you've had a rough way to go, and if I understood
right, your Dad abused you pretty bad at one point."  When Jeremy nodded,
he continued.  "You're going to have to work some things out for a while,
both physically and emotionally, and that's what we're here for.  Just,
uh," he paused with a grin on his face.  "Try not kicking the shit out of
me if I grab you in the wrong place, okay?  My girlfriend would probably be
grateful for that, too."  He winked, and then got serious again.  "You're
doing great, man, just don't try to do too much at once, it's going to take
a while."

    Jeremy returned the man's gaze and nodded.  "Thanks."

    The man smiled.  "Just so you know, it won't be as physical as you
think.  Maybe a little at first, I mean, I have to protect you from
falling, but that's just part of the job.  You're going to be walking on
your own in a day or two, but until you regain your sense of balance,
someone has to be close.  You understand that, right?  I'll try not hold
you so close, but I'm afraid you're a little bit bigger than, say, he is,"
he smiled, indicating Michael.

    Again Jeremy nodded, blushing slightly.  "I understand, I'm sorry, it
just - you caught me by surprise, that's all. It's okay, really."

    The man smiled.  "I'll say it again - you're doing remarkably well so
don't sell yourself short.  You also have nothing to be sorry for. Anyone
who has been through what you have would have a right to not want to be
touched or gawked at, yet alone be physically handled by someone like me.
You just have to understand, until you get a little more on your feet, you
need to trust us to be here for you, and willing to do whatever it takes to
keep you safe."  When Jeremy glanced up and saw the sincerity in the mans
face, he smiled, and nodded.

    Satisfied, the man stood to his feet.  "Tell you what, that was a
pretty long walk for a first attempt, why don't you rest there a little
bit.  I'll head out to the restroom for a couple of minutes and leave you
two here to chat a while."  Looking at Michael, he added.  "If you need
help, just walk right out that door to the nurses' station, but I'll be
back in a jiff."

    Michael nodded and watched the man head through the door before closing
it and leaving them alone in the room.  Michael looked around the area and
saw a folding chair nearby, which he promptly pulled up and sat down in
front of the older teen.  He watched as Jeremy tried to relax, but noted
the occasional grimace that occurred when he shifted himself within the
confines of the wheelchair.  There was silence between the two as Michael
was unsure of what to say watching the other boy settle.  Eventually though
he cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed voice.  "Um, can I ask you
something? I mean, it's kind of personal."  His throat went dry as he held
his breath a little.

    Jeremy had been seemingly lost in his own thoughts as he looked out the
room's solitary window, but at the request he returned his gaze to the
younger boy, nodding.  "Sure, what's up?"

    For a second Michael hesitated.  "Um, how's it going? I mean,
like... down there..."  He motioned to indicate the other boy's midsection.

    Jeremy thought for a second, and then basically shrugged his shoulders.
"Meh, I guess better, a lot of it stays numb though.  I mean like, I feel
it ache a lot but not really hurt. Just - you know - feel weird when I do
certain things, like sit awkwardly or do something to hit my nuts the wrong
way, that sort of thing." He grunted. "The swelling has gone down a lot, so
that's got to be better, right?"  Just then he glanced around, making sure
they were indeed alone before surprising the younger teen by pulling the
front of his hospital gown up.

    Michael gasped in surprise at the older boy's lack of modesty, but more
so at the sight revealed underneath the cloth.  The inside of Jeremy's
thighs leading up to his groin was blackened and bruised, streaked with
cuts that had scarred over and were still healing.  Covering the deepest
parts of the image, however, was Jeremy's scrotum - an enlarged, oversize
sac that was swollen and stretched beyond any normal sense of the word.
Michael whistled as he looked upon the oversized testicles swollen from the
inside, each appearing the size of lemons.  As he glanced farther up, he
saw the tube extending from the end of the older teens penis, and he
cringed at the thought of its purpose being stuck up the length of his
shaft, even though he traced the escaping tube to a urine bag attached at
the hip. "Crap man, doesn't that, like, hurt?  You know, that thing stuck
in your ..."

    Jeremy smiled, almost laughed as he watched the other boy visibly
shiver, and then looked down.  He shrugged his shoulders slightly.  "Stuck
in my dick? Not really, I can't much tell it is there except, well,
sometimes I can, but..."  He stared at himself a long time, shrugging his
shoulders and dismissing the question, oblivious to the younger teen's also
keen observation.  "I know, it's pretty ugly down there, but one of the
nurses told me I was doing a lot better than when I first came in here."
He shivered and fell silent, his mind going back to the faint memories he
still held of that night.

    Michael gazed at the other kid, gulping as he himself tried to imagine
what kind of monster could have done this to the older teen, or anyone else
for that matter.  "I'm sorry man, I didn't know..." he whispered, Jeremy
looked up and saw the sincerity on the other's face as he watched the boy
staring at him, taking it all in.  Once again he wondered why he was so
drawn to this kid, unable to find an answer.  Only one guy had ever gotten
close to him before, but he had never been able to let his guard down for
him or anyone else, but yet here Michael sat before him and... And what?
Austin had been his friend and sidekick for years, but Jeremy could never
have done what he was doing now, exposing himself both physically and
emotionally.  It was like this kid sitting across from him right now, one
he had only started to know for the last few months, had reached inside his
soul and said 'Hey, trust me, I'm your friend' - and somehow it had struck
a chord within himself.

    Jeremy slowly lowered the gown, seeing no point in keeping it up and
creating any kind of uncomfortable moment between them.  He watched
Michael's face, wondering what was going through his thoughts at the
moment, before something dawned on him.  "Can I ask you something?"

    Michael startled, looked up and responded, "Anything."

    Jeremy cocked his head to one side at that.  "Why were you at the house
that day?  I mean, how is it you found me?"

    Michael visibly relaxed - something that Jeremy had not recognized
until that moment that there had been a brief interlude of intensity.  "I
don't know... I mean, I went bike riding that day, and I rode as far as
that bend by that old pond." He thought about it for a moment.  "I just,
well, me and Thomas had rode up to that old house like, the weekend before
I guess, and it was all boarded up and everything.  When I looked up
though, it looked like the door was opened, and so that's what got me
curious, because I knew the door was all white and stuff, but I couldn't
see it anymore."

    "Really, that was it?" Jeremy asked, surprise in his voice.

    "Well, kinda, but not all of it... I mean, I remember feeling weird
some, but also like I couldn't stop myself, you know?  Like there was this
thing in my head, something making me feel like I HAD to check it out.  So
when I got closer and couldn't hear anything and I saw it really was open
and stuff, I decided I had to look inside.  That's when I heard you moan
some - although I didn't know it was you at first."

    "Oh," Jeremy replied, trying to think back himself.  He remembered
opening his eyes to see the younger teen at one point.  "I remember you
finding me, shaking me awake sort of.  Everything is really hazy after that
though."

    Michael nodded.  "You were really out of it, and really weak and cold.
I tried to warm you up some, but had to get you outside into the sun. It
was cold in that room."

    Jeremy thought about it but shook his head.  "I don't remember that.
The only thing I remember is being in a truck or something, and you and
your Mom in the back with me."

    Michael furrowed his brow.  "You don't remember me talking you into
going over the hill any?"

    Jeremy shook his head.  When he saw the anxiety on the younger boys'
face, he queried.  "Was it bad or something?"  When Michael didn't answer,
he observed intensity in the other boy's scrutiny, as if searching for
something.  "What?"  As the silence grew, Jeremy finally broke eye contact
and stared out the window.  "Okay, so I guess the answer is yes."

    "Jermz," Michael started, softly.  "I didn't know, honest. I mean, I
knew you were hurt, and I saw blood and stuff in your jeans, you know,
between your legs.  And I knew you stunk bad, because you had been pissing
on yourself and everything I guess - and I'm sorry man, I'm really sorry, I
just didn't know what to do."  There was a sense of urgency in the voice
that made Jeremy return curiously lock eyes between them.  Michael saw it,
and then cringed as he recalled that evening.  "I think I almost killed you
man.  I mean, you lost blood, a LOT of blood, and carrying and getting you
over that field and hill was, well, really hard on both of us.  When you
got to Thomas's house, you were so white and weak it scared the crap out of
me.  You were unconscious, and... and..."

    Suddenly Jeremy understood as brief images came back to him and he
started filling in the blanks.  "I wanted to die," he said softly, speaking
to no one in particular.

    Michael's face contorted at the horror of the thought.  "No!"

    Jeremy brought himself back to the moment, his expression
softening. "You don't understand, I wanted it all to end. I couldn't stand
living at home anymore, couldn't stand being alone, couldn't stand having
no food. I didn't know what I was going to do this summer, and Dad,
well... he was getting worse."

    Michael was awestruck.  "B-but Jeremy, why didn't you tell someone? I
mean, crap man..."

    "Because Mike, I couldn't."  He sighed deeply.  "Try to understand man,
you know who I am, who I was. I figured this was just my destiny in life,
to be punished for beating the shit out of all those people, for making
everyone's life as miserable as I could, you know? It was my punishment.
Remember the day I beat up your friend on the bus?  Remember the look my
father had as he and Stan were talking in front of the bus?  That's why.
If I had told anyone, well...."

    "Well what?"

    Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and didn't answer, which annoyed Michael.

    "I don't get it, are you saying you took all this... all this - crap,"
he emphasized by pointing at the other boys groin, "all this shit because
you thought you deserved it?"  When Jeremy didn't answer Michael got angry.
"Fuck you man, that is bullshit and you know it!"

    Jeremy was startled at the intensity coming from his new friend, and as
he started to retort Michael held his hands up.  "No, don't start it, don't
try and tell me that shit.  I understand that if that's what you thought
about it, then okay I'll believe you.  But crap Jermz, if that's what you
really believed then fuck you man, I'll say it again, that's bullshit!
Nobody - NO-BOD-Y - deserves to go through what you went through, no kid,
no girl, no boy, no teen, nobody - don't you realize that asshole almost
fucking killed you??!!"

    Michael rose to his feet crossing the short distance between them and
kneeling in front of the older boy.  He pushed his face directly in front
of Jeremy with only inches separating their noses.  "Jeremy, think about
something, please?  Try and forget everything and think about this for a
minute: what if it had been me, or Austin, or his brother, or even Thomas,
or someone else you know or hell, even someone you don't know. I don't care
if you think about some girl or another guy or whatever; just think about
it being someone else for a change.  What if you knew someone else was
sitting in your chair right now, having been through everything you've went
through.  Crap, what if it had happened to me, what if I was the one
sitting there right now, where you're at?  Ask yourself something: would I
deserve what happened to you, would I have deserved it happening to me?"

    Michael backed away slightly.  "Okay, so you're a jerk and a creep, or
at least used to be, I'm not so sure anymore.  You beat the shit out of
people or scared them enough to wet their pants, I know that much.  You're
a bully, no one would doubt that but hell men, lots of schools always have
bullies, right?  Imagine some other shit-faced asshole - heck, put Austin
in here for a sec, you know he's done some creepy things in the past with
you - would even he deserve having this happen to him? Huh?"

    Jeremy listened in shock, letting the words sink in.  At first he had
felt a rising anger, but as the words sunk in that feeling dissipated.  His
eyes became moist, and he didn't know what to say or feel for several
minutes.  Michael saw the change, and then felt sheepish about having
pushed as hard as he did.  He tentatively leaned in close, this time using
the softest voice he had, almost apologetic but at the same time he didn't
want to retreat from his conviction.  "You want to punch me? Go ahead, but
I still think you're a dick head if you really believe what you told me."

    The tears began streaming down Jeremy's face as he started to hang his
head in shame.  Michael reached out and touched the other one's shoulder.
When he didn't feel any resistance, he whispered, "Come here."  Slowly
Jeremy leaned forward onto his friends shoulder and began to cry, where
Michael enveloped him with as much sincerity as he could. Surprisingly,
Jeremy slowly began to reciprocate by folding his arms awkwardly around the
younger boy.  He had never really hugged anyone in his life, at least not
since his mother had passed away.  The sobs came in torrents and waves that
made him shudder constantly for a few moments, before they finally abated
and they both became quiet and still.  A silence grew in the room as he
recomposed himself, but he did not yet let go of the younger boy.  Instead,
he finally whispered, "No."

    Michael pulled back a little.  "No - what?" he asked, staring into the
other's eyes.

    "No one would deserve what I went through," Jeremy replied weakly.

    Michael smiled.  "Good, just don't forget that, okay? Promise me, you
won't forget it, no matter what the shrinks say or try to get into your
head, don't forget it, okay?  I don't want you dead, and I know a whole lot
of other people who wouldn't want it either. You don't deserve it, and life
- you know, it's gonna get better.  Make me that promise, make it for me.
Don't forget it, please."

    Jeremy smiled, and nodded, finally letting go, making them both pull
back and separate.

    Just then they heard the door open, and the therapist walked in
carrying some ice cream cones, all smiles across his features.  Michael
could not help but wonder if the timing had been planned, but as he looked
at the older teen, their eyes connected and there was a new brightness
about them.  Something had changed yet again, something had connected.

    For the better...

    - + - + - + -

    Pulling quietly into the driveway, Linda shut off the motor as she
parked and stared at the darkened house.  It was twilight and the last
remnants of the evening sun were sinking low.  The outside air was still,
almost muggy with various fragrances that came from the farms and fields
around the area.

    She sat still, dreading the task that now lay before her, but knowing
all the same that she was the only one who could do it.  As she looked upon
the structure in front of her, she noticed the both the windows and door
were open.  A single solitary light seem to shine from inside the living
room, as she waited there was no sign that anyone even heard or
acknowledged that she had approached and parked.  She sighed, finally
grimacing to herself, and she opened the door and stepped from her vehicle.

    Walking the short distance across the yard, a sense of sadness
enveloped in her.  If she was successful, she thought this may very well
become the last time she would enter this house.  The homestead had, for
matters of its physical presence, been a good place for them over the
years.  Being able to live in the countryside had afforded a sense of peace
and quiet unparalleled to that of city life she had known as a child.
Having been raised mostly in an orphanage in town, she had come to admire
the change in scenery and what it offered her these last few years.  Even
though they had been crowded within the walls of this old house at first,
it seemed everyone had adapted well to the close quarters and gotten along
fine.  How she so wished that could have remained, but now with the
realization of what was happening, she knew she couldn't return - not in
that way ever again.

    As she stepped onto the porch she reached the door and hesitated.  In
the past she had just simply walked in, but that somehow seemed alien to
her now, and for good reason.  Carefully, she knocked on the wood of the
door sill, softly at first and then harder until it echoed inside.

    "Okay, okay, we're not deaf you know!" came a sarcastic, nasal reply as
she heard the sounds of someone approach from the door.  Within seconds
Gramps turned the corner into the foyer and stopped in his tracks as he
recognized the figure through the opening.  A sneer crossed his face, and
he made no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice.  "What the hell do
you want?"

    Linda grunted, mostly to herself.  She had expected no less than such a
welcoming, but it did little to undermine her resolve.  Before she replied
she became aware of a second figure joining her husband to the left and
behind the man.  Nodding toward the woman in greeting, she returned her
attention to the man, speaking calmly.  "I've come to get what's left of
our things."

    "What things? You have no 'things' remaining here.  You took everything
with you when you left."

    Linda smiled, straining to keep her temper in check.  "We left with
only a part of our clothes and items, as you well know.  I'm here to get
what's left, and then we'll be out of your way for good."

    "Out of our way? You're out of the way now you bitch! I told you, there
is nothing you have remaining here anymore.  Get off my land!"  As he spoke
rapidly, an audible gasp came from the woman inside, causing the man to
turn toward his wife.  "Shut up woman, I'll handle this."

    Linda's annoyance began to best her.  "Why do you do that, treat your
own wife as if she's some puppet for you to yank your strings with?  Did
you not get enough satisfaction from doing it to me and my son? Your own
grandson?"  She emphasized the last words, but noted they fell on deaf
ears.

    "Don't try and tell me how to run my household woman! You have no say
in this and don't even get started! I know you bitching, whoring types and
how you think, and I'm not going to take your shit about it! Get off my
land, before I throw you out!" His voice had risen, practically screaming
the last few words while shaking his fist to re-emphasize his intent.

    Unfazed, Linda took a deep breath, ignoring the insults and now coming
to expect no less from this man she had lived with so many years.  "I will,
as soon as I get what's left of our clothes and belongings."

    The man crossed the foyer and stood directly before the screened door,
a look of rage covering his features.  When he spoke again, his voice
became as deadly quiet as the night around them.  "What part of your ears
can't hear me bitch?  I told you, you got nothing left here, and you're not
entering this house again. Now for the last time, get your whoring ass out
of here."

    The two stood staring at each other for several minutes, each boiling
with hatred of the other and the contempt of the moment.  When it was
obvious Linda was not going to back down, there came a slight scuffle of
steps from the elder woman.  "Dear, I'm sorry, he burned everything.  There
really is nothing left here," she explained in a meek, almost apologetic
voice.

    Her husband turned with a roar before rearing back and crossing her
face with his open hand, a hard popping noise breaking loose through the
night.  He said not a word after the slap, instead pointing towards the
room from which they had come.  His wife of over 40 years was stunned at
the action, but hung her head nonetheless and obediently retreated beyond
their view.

    When Gramps returned his gaze to the woman outside the door, he
sneered.  "You best be getting out of here if you know what's good for
you," he spoke again, using the same deadly quiet voice as before.  For the
first time Linda hesitated, seeing something else in the elder's eyes,
something she had not noted before in the dim light - but with which was
now plainly evident.  There was a madness there that exceeded beyond
reason, and deep down it frightened her.  She gazed beyond the doorway to
where the woman had retreated, and grew concerned for her.  Linda stilled
herself however, knowing the old man would not put his wife in danger, not
in that sense of the word, and so she returned her thoughts to the moment.
She was tempted to turn and walk away, but something held her.  Disbelief
at how someone - a fellow Christian, at that - could hold so much rage as
he did astound her.  She shuddered, thankful she had pulled Thomas and they
had gotten out as well and soon as they did - before it might have been too
late.

    Looking onward, she made one last attempt to reach him.  "Why? Why
would you hate your own flesh and blood with so much contempt? If nothing
else Thomas is your grandson - YOUR grandson! A kid who looked up to you,
respected you?  Where ever this hatred you hold is coming from, then put
aside me for a moment and think about HIM, and what you're DOING to HIM!"

    She could see a flicker of confusion cross his face briefly before it
returned to a steely resolve.  Without a word, the man turned and opened a
smaller door to a closet and withdrew a shotgun.  Holding it by the barrel,
he turned toward the woman in the doorway and hissed, "I have no grandson,
thanks to you, you bitch.  Now I'm going to do what I should have done
years ago."

    As he began rummaging inside for what was presumably a box of shells,
Linda gave up.  "All right, I'll go, but you hear this now - you're going
to have to answer to this, and you WILL answer to it, trust me."  With that
she turned and purposefully walked back to her car.  She was not going to
run even though the danger was eminent.  Thankfully, no sound came from the
house behind her as she got in and started up the engine.  Looking at the
doorway she could see his outline standing there, still holding the gun by
the barrel and watching her with the madness still streaked across his
features.

    As she pulled away, tears filled her eyes as the impact of what the man
had said hit her like a ton of bricks.  Their belongings, what few there
were, had been burned!  That probably meant everything that was left in the
way of albums and pictures and other heirlooms were gone as well!  Most of
all, she remembered Thomas worrying about his journal, knowing he had left
it in their hasty exit that night.  She knew how that art book had saved a
good portion of his life, his effort at "keeping it all together".  Was it
now gone as well?  She thought back and realized the man may probably meant
every word of it.

    The spite her ex-father-in-law held knew no bounds.  Such fury did the
realization hit her she had to pull over to the side of the road, wailing
loudly and hitting the steering wheel with her fists.  She had no
understanding of why it was happening to them, what they had done to
deserve such tenacity.  The worst of it, however, was that her son had to
grow up now with an estrangement that was no different than she had herself
as a little girl.  They had no other family, not really.

    She sighed as she started moving again towards their new home -
temporary maybe, but it was still home, for now.

    Maybe they had no family behind her... but as she pulled into the
driveway and topped the hill, she corrected herself.

    Carolyn and Michael was their family now, for as long as they would
have them...

    - + - + - + -

    Michael bound up the stairs two at a time in a half-run once he got
home, anxious to tell Thomas about everything that had happened that
afternoon.  Upon arriving in his room, however, he stopped at the site that
unfolded before him.  The room was darkened as the sky outside began
breaking the twilight for the evening, and with his bedroom window facing
east, it had already taken on a gloomy overcast.  The nearby TV was on,
casting irregular light across the bed, had its volume turned low and as
Michael paused briefly, he heard a cough and sniffle come from the bed.

    Walking over he found Thomas wrapped tightly in the beds' comforter,
along with an extra layer over his feet from a nearby blanket.  His eyes
were closed, but the expression crossing his features one far from peace or
rest.  As Michael sat on the bedside next to his best friend, Thomas's eyes
suddenly opened in surprise.  "Oh, hey," he spoke, a certain weariness to
his voice.

    "Hey," Michael replied.  "You don't look so good."  He reached and felt
the other's forehead and could immediately detect warmth that should not be
there.

    "Don't feel so good either," was the reply.

    "Does your Mom know you're sick?"  When Thomas shrugged his shoulders,
Michael stood up at once and headed downstairs.  He found Linda in the
makeshift room that they had set up for her to stay in.  Noticing she was
moving around inside, he hesitated.  "Umm, mam?" he called curiously, just
outside the doorway.

    At once the door opened and Linda stood there smiling, looking as if
she had just awakened from a nap.  "You don't have to be so formal with me
Michael," she called softly, smiling.  "What's up? Is Thomas getting
worse?"

    "You know?  I mean, yeah, I think he has a fever," replied the young
teen, mildly surprised.  "Umm, what SHOULD I call you?  I mean, I dunno
anything else, really..."

    Linda nodded as she guided him back towards the living room.  "Call me
Linda or, if you really want to then mam is fine.  Thomas wasn't doing too
great a while ago, so I gave him some aspirin, and was hoping a nap might
help him feel a little better.  Guess it didn't do the trick, huh?"

    Michael shook his head as they both ascended the steps to the second
floor and turned into the bedroom.  Linda walked over to the bedside and
sat down.  "Hey kiddo," she called softly.  "Not feeling any better?"

    Michael watched as Thomas looked up into his mother's eyes.  "I J-just
feel like I'm f-freezing more than an-anything Mom."

    Linda put her hand up to her sons forehead and then stole a quick
glance at Michael, acknowledging that he had been right.  She smiled and
returned her attention back to the bed. "You have a little bit of a fever.
Do you have a headache or anything?"

    Thomas shook his head.  "No, just my throat's a little sore."

    She studied him a moment as Carolyn suddenly appeared in the doorway.
"Everything okay up here?" she asked warmly as she entered the room.

    Linda looked up at her.  "Thomas has a low-grade fever, says he's
really cold.  I think he's coming down with something."  She paused,
considering.  "I thought I would get him some of those extra strength tabs
downstairs, you think that would hurt him any?"

    Carolyn looked down upon the teen and shook her head.  "No, it won't
hurt him, he's plenty old enough for some of those medicines."  She walked
around the other side of the bed, then tentatively hesitating, addressing
both Linda and the younger teen.  "May I?"  When Linda nodded, Thomas
turned his head towards the older woman and Carolyn reached out and
assessed him in a similar manner as his mother only moments before, only
this time she also felt around the glands in his throat.  "Nah, not too
bad, but you do seem to be little warm.  I'd give him two tablets, then
another couple in say 2 to 3 hours if he needs it."

    Linda nodded.  "I'll be right back," she declared then left the room.
While she was gone Thomas curled up yet again, almost into a fetal position
underneath the cover.

    Michael sat down next to him where Linda had been sitting.  "Mom?"

    "Hmm?"

    "Well, you know what you always tell me when I'm cold and stuff, and
Thomas told his Mom he didn't have a headache or anything.  You think...?"
Just then Linda returned, catching the end of the conversation.  She smiled
questioningly at Carolyn as she crossed to the bed, holding out the
medicine with a glass of water - which Thomas sat up and promptly consumed.

    "I used to have Michael take a hot bath and soak for a bit to warm up,"
Carolyn explained to the other woman.  "It seemed to always make him feel
better, didn't it kiddo?"  Her smile encouraged him to nod in
acknowledgement.

    Linda looked at them both then shrugged her shoulders.  "It's alright
with me if you want to."  When Thomas didn't answer right away, she went on
to add.  "I'm sure Mike can help you if you want him too.  Just make sure
you let me know if you start feeling any worse is all.  I'll come back and
check on you in a little while, is that okay?"  When he nodded, she stood
up and both women made their way toward the door.

    Carolyn paused, turning to her son.  "Michael?  Watch him, okay?  You
know how to be careful, I know, but watch him.  If he gets any worse, come
get us."

    "Okay Mom, I promise."

    When both women had gone back downstairs, Thomas opened one eye to his
friend.  "What did your mom m-mean about being careful?"

    Michael grinned.  "She meant like, not letting you sneeze on me and
stuff, you know, so I don't catch your cold or whatever."  He leaned in
close though and wrapped both arms around his friend, still snuggling under
the cover.  Whispering in his ear, he added, "I don't care though, I just
want you to get better."

    "Right now I just want to get w-warm," was the hurried reply as Thomas
closed his eyes again.

    "Really? I mean, I know how if you want..."  When his friend didn't
reply, Michael got up and left the room, heading into the upstairs bath and
turning on the light.  Walking over to the tub, he proceeded to draw bath
water that was just shy of being hot.  He rummaged nearby in the bathroom
closet and found some bubbling stuff his Mom had bought and used before.
In due course the tub filled as he wanted, the water slightly steaming
beneath the spigot as he turned it off.

    Heading back to the bedroom, he found Thomas sitting up in the bed,
though still wrapped up.  "You serious?"

    "Yeah, I am.  You'll feel a lot better, trust me."

    Thomas gazed into his friends eyes, and the connection they made showed
that he held all the trust in the world for his friend.  He pulled the
cover back and slid out barefoot onto the floor.  Michael reached into a
nearby dresser drawer and withdrew some briefs and a fresh t-shirt for him,
before coming back and helping his friend to his feet.  Guiding him into
the bathroom, Michael put the fresh clothes onto the sink and turned to go.
"There bro, just get in and let is cover you up all the way.  I promise,
you'll feel a lot better afterwards."  He made as if to go, but Thomas
grabbed him by the wrist.

    "Uh, don't go... stay..."

    Michael raised an eyebrow just as his friend shuddered, and he could
visibly see cold chills appear on Thomas's arms.  "You sure?"

    "Oh y-yeah, I'm s-sure."  He slowly began trying to peel his shirt off,
to which Michael reached over and offered a hand.  As the shirt was coming
loose over his head, Thomas swiftly undid his belt buckle and jeans,
letting them fall to the floor.  Michael was amazed yet anxious when he saw
the chill bumps extended all over the other kid.  As quick as he could, he
helped Thomas strip to his briefs and then cross the floor to the tub.
Without any hesitation the ill teen hooked the waistband of his briefs and
dropped them there as well, before moving to tentatively put his foot into
the water.

    "Slow bro, its really warm, so you have to get used to it as you get
in, okay?"  Michael offered as he stood by his side, an extended arm to
offer the other boy support.  Slowly Thomas accepted the help as he lowered
himself to sit on the side of the tub, and then gradually move down into
the water.  "Oh crap this feels good," he whispered as he turned and
positioned himself lengthwise, folding his knees and sinking himself in
water.  When he settled he was almost completely submerged to his upper
chest, and the bubbles totally engulfed him otherwise.  He sighed deeply
before letting go of his friends arm and closing his eyes.

    Michael sat down by the tub, his arms crossed on the side of the tub
and resting his chin.  He watched his friend soak in the heat, becoming
fully relaxed.  He said nothing, not wanting to spoil the peace and quiet
of the moment.  He sat there keeping his friend company until he heard a
change in his breathing, one that became deep and rhythmic.  Michael
smiled, then quietly got up and walked out of the bathroom, heading
downstairs.  He knew that falling asleep could be a problem, especially in
hot tubs and the like when you stayed for long periods of time.  This one,
however, wasn't that hot – and from the looks of it, his friend needed
some rest.  A little rest, he figured, was just what the doctor ordered.

    He found both women in the kitchen, and as Linda looked up, he smiled
in answer to her unspoken question.  "He's sleeping; he got in the tub and
went right to sleep."

    Linda returned the smile and Carolyn, standing nearby, nodded.  "I
heard the water running.  That will probably do more for him than anything.
You didn't get the water too hot, did you kiddo?"

    Michael shook his head.  "Nah, you know me Mom, I can't stand it too
hot.  He'll be fine."

    Carolyn laughed, handing him a sandwich and a soda.  "Okay,
okay... just watch him, okay?  He'll probably be fine, though."

    Linda interrupted them.  "Should I have Thomas sleep downstairs with me
tonight?  I mean, just in case?"

    Carolyn turned and raised her eyebrow towards her son, who sheepishly
shook his head.  "I don't mind staying with him mam, err... Linda, honest."
At that Linda giggled, then looked at Carolyn who only smiled.  Glancing
between the two, Michael asked, "What? Did I say something wrong or...?"

    Linda shook her head.  "Not at all, Michael.  Just look after him then,
I'll come up and check on him in a little while."  When Carolyn offered
nothing further, he shrugged his shoulders and left the room.  Linda walked
over to Carolyn.  "Can I ask you something? I mean, I don't want to seem
old fashioned or anything but... You think they're okay, don't you?"

    Carolyn looked at the other woman and read the expression in her face.
"Yes, I do.  I know, but - I trust Michael.  He's still a kid, growing into
a young adult, but thankfully he hasn't lost out on what it means to be a
kid, and he loves Thomas."  She sighed.  "I honestly believe Thomas is the
best thing that has happened to him since... You know about us being
abandoned I guess, right?"

    Linda nodded.  "Thomas filled me in."  She studied about it a
minute. "I don't really worry about them, it's just - I don't know."

    Carolyn nodded.  "They're close, like drawn together."  She looked at
her friend and smiled.  "You want my honest opinion?  They are both still
boys just finding their way in the world.  The difference is they are
finding it together, for the time being anyway, and I think it's healthy.
They don't have to go it alone."

    Linda nodded.  "I know what you mean, and you're right.  I had to grow
up in pretty much my own shadow for a lot of years."  She sighed.  "I'm not
worried about them together and everything, I'm really not.  I just..."
Her voice trailed off, and when she didn't continue, Carolyn stopped what
she was doing to turn to her.  That was the second time she repeated
herself and she saw the look of anxiety that betrayed her expression.
Trying to give the woman time to collect her thoughts, Carolyn waited
patiently until Linda continued.

    "We won't be here forever, I mean-" She held up both hands to protest
before her friend could interrupt. "I know Carolyn - I know we're welcome,
you've made that plain, and you have no idea how thankful we are for it.
It might take us a little while before we can actually get on our feet,
especially after what happened tonight, but still..."

    She reflected for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, as if peering
into the rooms above.  "I'm just afraid that the more they get to depend on
one another, then it will make it all the worse later.  I mean, I know
they're kids and they adapt to things like the rest of us but you should
have seen Thomas when all of this started going down after Christmas.  It
hurt him to think he had finally found a friend only to lose him like he
did.  I know what it was like, how bad it was when I was his age." She
sighed. "I always promised myself he would never go through being alone,
but I guess it still happened, but even worse."

    Carolyn put a tentative arm around the other woman.  "You didn't let it
happen.  Life is just funny sometimes, a lot of bends in the road.  You
know more about that than any of us, I think."  She hesitated.  "What
happened tonight?"

    Linda sighed.  "I went by the house to get our things while you two
were out."  She spilled the story, trying to maintain a level of calmness
she didn't really feel.  Carolyn shook her head as she finished, before
taking her friend by the hand and leading her into the living room.  When
they both had settled on the sofa, Carolyn pulled her hair back and became
thoughtful while they both sat face to face.  "Listen to me for a minute.
You and I are about the same age, and we both have a history that has left
our husbands out of the picture for years.  I know you loved your husband,
but those people down the road, they are not him.  Whatever has happened,
you have to believe it is all after the fact, something that has changed
since he died.  Don't let that detract from his memories, please."

    Linda nodded.  "I know that Carolyn, they used to be pretty gentle and
kind, especially with Thomas, it's just that now all of that is so
drastically different.  I'm glad we got out, I truly am, but now we are
here putting a lot of stress on the two of you, and..."

    Carolyn reflected on that before continuing.  "Right now, yes, things
are a little cramped in here - especially for you in that back room - but
it's not going to stay that way though.  Look, you have a lot of courage
and determination - what's happened to you though is you've lived in a
place that masked a lot of it, and you lost some of that self confidence I
think.  Living with your in-laws has made you question some of your own
heritage and values.  Am I right?"

    Linda looked at her and slowly nodded, so Carolyn continued.  "That is
all past and you are here – right now.  I'll be honest with you - I'm
really glad you ARE here.  I have no doubt you don't know what is best for
Thomas, any less than what I believe in being best for Michael.  We're both
strong, capable women who are just facing some things right now, you more
so than me." She collected her thoughts briefly.  "Michael isn't the only
one who needed some company around here, you know?  I think all I ever did
was work and come home to him and that was that.  Mind you I'm not
complaining: Michael is everything to me, just like Thomas is everything to
you.  Still, I'm happy to have someone that's not always 12 years old
around, you know?"

    Linda laughed.  "Same here!"

    Carolyn smiled and then sighed.  "Don't you see?  You need to get on
your feet, you need a place to stay, and you need it in a place you can
have enough freedom to start rebuilding confidence in yourself.  Who knows,
you might someday re-marry, right?  I guess even I could for that matter. I
just don't see it happening anytime soon!" she added wryly.

    Linda giggled at that, relief crossing her face.  "I know what you're
saying Carolyn, and thank you, it does mean a lot to me."

    Carolyn shook her head.  "But you don't know it honey, and that is what
I'm trying to convince you of right now.  You have to see it, you have to
feel it, you have to believe it – Michael and I both want you and Thomas
here, and we're not going to push you away - not for a long time."

    "But Carolyn... This is your home and..." Linda tried to argue.

    Again her friend shook her head and replied rather sternly, "No, that's
where you're wrong.  This is just a house.  Our home - Michael's, mine,
Thomas's and yours, is wherever we make it - and I mean ALL of us.  It's
just a house with walls, but what's inside of it is what makes it our
home."

    Linda tried to grasp the significance.  "I've never lived anywhere
where I was actually wanted until I married my husband," she finally
replied.

    Carolyn studied her.  "And since he died, it hasn't been the same,
right?"  Linda nodded so she quickly continued.  "Well, that stops - here
and now.  The boys will be just fine.  As for you and me, we'll just be two
Moms in the pickle jar." She gestured at the walls around them.  "So what
if it's cramped?  We'll just have to do something about it - one step at a
time.  You know that as much as I do.  You can only fit so many pickles
into a jar, you know!"

    Linda burst out laughing at that.  "Carolyn!"

    Her friend laughed as well.  "I know, but it's sincere.  We're both
capable of handling our kids and the world.  We'll figure it out, trust me.
What do you say?"

    Linda stared back.  "Are you inviting us to make this... what, more
permanent?"

    Carolyn sat back and smiled.  "I'm inviting you to stop thinking of
this as being so temporary.  It doesn't matter if it takes two weeks, two
months, two years - or even 20 years.  The four of us together will make it
just fine, one day at a time.  Once things settle down a little and you go
after that old goat down the road - and you should, you know - we'll just
take it from there.  Maybe we can find us all a little bigger place to move
to or something."

    Tears welled up in Linda's eyes.  "How can you..." she whispered,
before pausing to catch her breath.  "How can you be so wonderful to us?  I
mean, in a way you barely know us..."

    Carolyn smiled.  "Linda, do you really, truly believe that? We know you
guys like the brother and sister neither of us ever had.  We love the both
of you."  Carolyn blushed slightly.  "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so
forward sometimes, but it sort of sounds like you need it, or at least you
need to hear it."

    Linda smiled thru her tears, wiping her eyes.  "You know, Thomas told
me something not too long ago.  He said he thinks of Michael like the
brother he never got to have."  Looking up into the other woman's eyes, she
found them glistening as well.  "I have to admit something too: I've often
thought of us the same way, as two sisters almost - the one I never had."

    Carolyn embraced her friend.  "So is it a deal?  Will you two stick
with us a while?"

    Linda laughed before replying, "I don't see how I can turn it down
now."  She whispered into her friends' ear as they separated.  "Thanks
sis."

    Carolyn laughed, and then nodded.  "You're welcome.  Now let's figure
out what to do next..."

    - + - + - + -

    Michael quietly entered the bathroom where he kneeled by the side of
the tub, watching the almost motionless figure inside.  Thomas had folded
his knees almost Indian-style, helping hold a comfortable position almost
submerged in the shortened bath tub.  Michael remembered when he used to
could lay flat and straight in the molded tub, but now he had grown in size
like his friend where he had to pull his knees up.

    As Michael crossed his arms he propped himself comfortably on the side
of the tub, looking down and watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his
friend's chest in the water.  The bubbles had began to dissipate somewhat,
and as he sat there in silence he watched them slowly pop and separate from
one another.  As his friend exhaled, each breath seemed to push the suds
slowly away, and before long Thomas's chest was revealed.

    He eventually reseated himself more comfortably, but the movement
disturbed the other teen enough that he opened his eyes.  Seeing his best
friend still there with him made him pause and relax, bringing a smile to
his face as he settled back and closed his eyes once again.  Michael
reached in to the other boy's forehead, and noted that though the hair was
damp from sweat, the skin actually felt cooler.  "I think your fever is
broke, bro.  Feel any better?"

    Thomas slowly nodded.  "Lots better," he whispered in reply.  Over the
next couple of minutes he alternated closing his eyes and opening them
again to see the other boy had not moved.  He tried to wake up, but the
alluring warmth of the water was too overcoming at the moment.

    Michael just sat, a peaceful expression across his features, thinking
to himself how happy he was at the moment.  He watched the other kid for a
while, until the bubbles rescinded enough he could actually make out his
friends navel underneath the surface.  With a smile, he reached down and
poked it.  "ZZzzttt!" he exclaimed softly, causing Thomas to start and
bolt, then laugh as he realized what had happened.

    Giggling, Michael made once more to get up, intending to leave the
room, but Thomas broke the silence. "Don't go... please?"  Shaking himself
somewhat, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, wiping his eyes as
Michael made to return to the tub's side.  He looked around, and then saw
shampoo sitting on the sink.  "Umm, hand that to me?"

    Michael turned and saw what was being indicated, then complied.  As
Thomas took the bottle, he sat it on the side of the tub before scooting
down and laying back into the water.  As he submerged the back of his head,
he wetted it down before turning a palm up toward his friend and waiting.
Michael grunted, then took the shampoo and dispensed some for his friend,
who then proceeded to lather and wash his hair.  When he lay down and
submerged yet again, he rinsed the soap away.

    When finished, the young boy sat up and pulled the drain, beginning the
process of letting the water out.  Michael turned and grabbed a towel,
handing it over where Thomas immediately wrapped his head and began drying
his hair.  Afterwards he just sat there, the towel in his hand supported on
the side of the tub, and Michael just watched in silence as the water
disappeared.  "You okay?" he asked softly, returning his gaze and seeing
his friend studying him curiously.

    Thomas nodded.  "Just wondering what you was thinking about is all."
He still looked somewhat groggy, but became more alert as he saw his friend
smiling.  "What?"

    "Umm, you really wanna know?"  When his friend nodded, Michael
continued.  "I was thinking about how cool you look soft, you know..."  He
flashed his eyes down toward his friends' mid-section, to which Thomas then
blushed.  Not knowing what to say, he just leaned onto Michael briefly
before sighing and attempting to stand up.

    Michael stood up with him, taking the towel.  "Want me?"  When Thomas
responded by standing and facing him, Michael began to towel him off.
Spreading his arms and legs, Thomas closed his eyes and allowed his friend
to help him, actually welcoming his presence.  When Michael finished, he
offered an arm and helped the other step out and sit on the edge of the
tub.  Michael first threaded his friends arm with the fresh t-shirt,
followed by his briefs, and then guided him back toward the bedroom and
into bed.  Thomas moaned in pleasure at the softness of everything just
then, curling up underneath the covers, which unlike before held a more
pleasant feeling this time around.  Once again Michael felt the other kid's
forehead and then ran his fingers through his hair.  Within moments a soft
snore reached his ears, making him smile and glad that he had been able to
help not one, but two friends today.  Turning, he saw his food still on the
nightstand, but not feeling particularly hungry he just set it aside and
quietly rose.

    He had just stripped down and donned a pair of sweats when he heard a
soft knock from the top of the stairs.  Linda was peeking around the
corner, obviously trying to allow the boys some level of modesty since the
door was open.  Michael grinned and then motioned for her to come on in, to
which she entered and crossed to the bed.  She saw the pleasant look on his
face and checked him out herself before nodding.  "Doing better I see."

    Michael nodded, saying nothing.  She leaned in and kissed her son on
the cheek, before rising from the bed.  She stood watching for the moment,
lost in thought, until Michael unexpectedly rounded the end of the bed and
walked up beside her.  "Linda?"

    When she looked down at him he embraced her, this time holding her for
a long time.  Smiling she took the hug and returned it, before he
eventually separated himself.  They parted and he looked up in her eyes,
smiling kindly.  She watched the spark that was there, and then whispered,
"What was that for?"

    Michael just shrugged his shoulders, returning to the other side of the
bed and picking up his sandwich, intending to take it back downstairs.
Linda intercepted however, where she tossed his hair and then added, "Thank
you, you're a sweet kid Michael."  Looking at Thomas she added in a hushed
voice, "If he needs anything tonight, come and get me, okay?"  Michael
nodded and with that she left them alone.

    Michael turned to the bed and turned out the light, removed his sweats
and got in.  Immediately Thomas responded by cuddling in close, and before
long, both boys were sleeping peacefully.

    - + - + - + -

    There was a period when Jeremy would have thought all of this
unnecessary, a waste of time for both the patient and the so-called
professional who adorned himself with the title of 'Doctor', although the
profession itself was far from that of ordinary medicine.  Over the years
he had heard about people going into therapy, or counselors as some called
them, and he actually sneered at the idea.  Thinking that anyone who needed
that much help in dealing with common, everyday life probably needed their
head examined for other more obvious things.

    To him, psychiatrists were a joke, people who practiced getting into
people's head just to mess around with more of the stuff already messed
with.  It was a lazy occupation - all you did was sit around and sit,
stare, listen, take naps. At the end of the day you get to write a
paragraph or two, file some paperwork - and take utter control over
someone's life on the basis that they hated their father growing up, or
some such ridiculous crap.  On occasion he thought of other occupations
along similar lines, some of which appealed and some of which didn't, but
figured he could never be a desk jockey of sorts.  His mind had always been
too active, too hyper to settle down for any length of time behind a desk.
School was one of his worst enemies for that - sitting hours a day in
classrooms, listening to old crones drone on and on about facts, figures,
dates and people that were long since dead or had no business being in
books.

    He sighed, bringing himself back to the present and the man sitting
across from him behind the desk.  It was a stark contrast to the normal
scene envisioned with most shrinks and their patients: the "doctor" in a
nearby chair and the patient quietly stretched out upon one of those weird
sofas.  Instead, Jeremy was in a narrow hardback chair with minimal
padding, and even the padding that was there was worn from years of
constant use.  He was still in his hospital gown, which was beginning to
make him feel uncomfortable, as the ones provided him as of late seem to be
getting shorter in length, and he found himself having to pay more
attention to himself when he was out of bed than he did initially.

    They had been sitting here for almost half an hour, and Jeremy was
beginning to get uncomfortable.  He had yet to adjust to the discomforts
originating in his nether regions, although they were healing at a more
rapid rate now.  His strength had returned, and in the 3 days since that
Sunday afternoon with Michael present, he had found a renewed determination
to push him forward.  He was able to walk on his own now, although only
with a cane of sorts and someone always nearby lest his legs buckle and
give way.  The days of double therapy sessions had brought back his sense
of balance, and he was determined to be walking without any assistance by
the end of the week.  Even that morning, the man who had been helping him
rebuild his strength all week, told him he probably wouldn't need but a few
more sessions.  That helped Jeremy more than anything - because it told him
time was passing by and not standing still, that he was getting better, and
that he was leaving everything that had happened behind.

    Until now.

    This guy across the desk was talking again, droning on about how he
would have to face himself in the end.  Huh?  Jeremy grimaced, wondering if
the man even knew what the hell he was talking about.  Why should he have
to face himself?  Everything that had happened was pretty much one-sided,
but this guy was saying things about guilt that made absolutely no sense at
all.  What did he have to be guilty of?

    "Wait a minute, please," he said at one point, and the man looked up
startled, pausing at writing one of his many notes he had been writing.

    "Yes?"

    "Answer me something," Jeremy replied, responding in like manner.  When
the psychologist only stared and gazed at the young man in return, Jeremy
took that for an acknowledgement to continue.  "Why are you so bent on
telling me I have to forgive myself?  What do I have to be guilty of?  I
mean, no disrespect intended, but its seems to me like that's all I hear
you preach on about, how I have to accept this, or I have to live with
that, that I have to rethink my attitude and be more careful about what I
do and say and stuff.  That just, I don't know, seems – wrong.  I didn't
make my Dad mad at me, he did that – I just have no idea why or what or
where or anything..."

    The man, clearly annoyed, dropped his pad on the desk in front of him,
and then pulled his glasses and started cleaning them as he replied.  "Many
teenage boys have an incredible amount of disdain for their fathers,
especially when it comes to disobedience and being 'corrected', to use the
term loosely.  Father's are the figurehead of an established household, and
are often hard on their sons in order to toughen them up so they can face
the world like a man.  More often than not young men rebel at the authority
figure and begin mocking-"

    "Wait, you're saying - it's all my fault?  That somehow I didn't live
up to his standards or something, that in order to toughen me up he what,
fucked and beat the living shit out of me to teach me a lesson?"

    The man's eyes grew wide for an instant before he leaned up, settling
his elbows on the desktop and staring hard.  "No use of foul language young
man, we discussed that the other day.  Maybe you will learn something as
well if you let me finish before interrupting me again.  Now, it is without
question you have had a problem with authority figures for a good many
years.  Your school records indicate numerous incidents with classmates,
younger and older peers, teachers, counselors and other figures that
require and expect a level of respect from their students.  The reports
some of these adults had following discussions with your father dictate
similarities that suggest you were a very wild, disobedient boy.  Your own
father described you as one always on the go, abusive, insubordinate,
mouthing off and running away, sometimes for days at a time."

    Jeremy's face held a look of incredulity.  "Excuse me, but did you or
anyone else ever stop to wonder WHY I ran away from him?"  Clearly annoyed,
he continued.  "I mean, I guess not, I'm just a kid, right?  What does it
matter that I got screwed for years, beat on or whatever else.  Why
shouldn't I have been afraid of him, right?  According to you, he's my
FATHER, the fucking idiot who-"

    The man slapped the desktop, clearly irritated.  "That's enough!  I've
warned you for the last time, if you don't want to talk about it in a
reasonable manner-"

    "How am I not being reasonable?  You know something, it just dawned on
me, here I've been sitting for three whole days, and you have never once
even asked me what I know about it, how I feel, or any of the psycho-babble
crap.  Why is that? How can you know anything about the hell I've lived in
without even caring to asking me one single, fucking question-"

    "Enough!" the old man cried out, slamming his hand down on the desktop.

    "Yeah, enough, I agree.  Who do you think I am?  What do you know about
me, really?  What you read in your precious little reports?  Is that it?
So you think I'm some kind of shithead or something, some trailer-trash or
whatever, is that it?  Yeah, you've got me all figured out, don't you,
without even asking – one – fucking – question."

    The man was livid, but in fairness trying to keep his temper in check.
Straining to keep his voice calm, he looked at the young boy and spoke
softly.  "All right, what do you think I should `ask' you that I don't
already know?  Hmm?  I've dealt with hundreds of gentlemen your age, mind
you – it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure your generation out."

    Jeremy frowned.  "You're supposed to get inside my head, find out what
I think and feel and all that crap, right?  All I've heard out of you for
the last three days is how I should be repentant or some such crap, you
know, forgive myself for all the wrongness in the world or what happened to
me, or that I should be thankful I even had a home and had a father who...
You know what? Screw this - someone is paying you thousands of dollars for
this?  You have no clue about me, you know that?  You have no clue what
life is like for me, and your own attitude says you don't even care, so why
bother, right?"

    The older man struggled to keep his tempter in check as he rose from
behind his desk.  "I will NOT have some snot-nosed asshole of a kid telling
me how to do my job, young man!  You sit there and lecture me, as if you
know anything about psychology.  I'll have you know I've been in this
profession for over 20 years, and I know a thing or two about how to handle
cases like yours!"  He walked over to a filling cabinet and withdrew some
papers.  Returning to his desk, he continued to look at the teenager with
an intense anger.  "All right, you think you have the answers and how this
should be done, then tell you what – I'll let you do just that."

    Jeremy was surprised, unsure of what he had just heard.  "What?"

    Smugly the man sat back down and began filling out the various forms.
When he finished, he called out "Orderly!"  The door opened and a rather
beefy intern stepped inside.  "Take Mr. Riddle back to his room and keep
him there until morning."  Addressing the young teenager, he continued.  "I
don't have to deal with you, you know, so I think I'll do just that.  I'm
sending you to St Helens upstate.  It's a psychiatric hospital, one where
they take plenty of time with cases like yours.  Oh don't worry, I'll send
all your records and my notes up as well, so you'll be **well** received, I
assure you."  Addressing the intern, he added, "Be sure he has his things
assembled and ready to go."

    Jeremy looked on, incredulous.  "You can't do that!" he exclaimed, but
his voice was ridden with the self-doubt and sudden fear that had crept
over him.

    The older man looked down.  "Young man, you have made it plain you
cannot recover here without extensive psychological counseling and
addressing authoritative figures in a civil manner.  I-"

    "You mean, you?  Maybe if you acted like someone who fucking cared, who
WAS authoritative-"

    "ENOUGH!  If you can't shut this potty mouth, I'll order the hole taped
shut!"  The rage inside the older man was beyond reproach now, lashing out
at Jeremy.  After a few seconds of silence, he got up and walked around to
the other side of the desk, standing next to the teenager who looked up at
him.  "If I were you, I wouldn't get any hopes up of getting out very soon.
Teens raped by their parents or who conduct incestuous affairs often take a
nice, long time to rehabilitate."

    With that the orderly took Jeremy's arm and brought him to his feet,
immediately guiding him from the office.  Slowly they walked back toward
his designated room, the orderly holding the boys arm in a tight grip the
entire length of the trip.  Upon arrival the man roughly shoved the
teenager into his room and without a word, reached and closed the door,
locking it as he was so instructed.  Jeremy approached the door and banged
it loudly, calling for someone to release him, but his cries and shouts
were ignored.

    - + - + - + -

    Carolyn's shift ended at 4:30 that afternoon, leaving her tired and
exhausted.  It had been an extreme day of havoc for the department, having
received an unusual number of patients that day with cold and flu-like
symptoms.  To make matters worse, only one doctor had arrived that morning,
as two others had called in to report they wouldn't make it - one being
sick himself, and the other having to deal with a death in the family.
That made treating everyone an extremely long ordeal and the longer
patients had to wait, the more irritable they became.

    It was nearly 4:45 before she collected her jacket and started heading
toward the exit doors before she suddenly remembered she had promised
Jeremy the day before she would bring him up some cake that day.  She
sighed, having a strong desire to leave and get away from everything, but
then conceding that she had made a promise and she should keep it.
Turning, she headed toward the cafeteria, where she found not only a huge
slice of chocolate cake in the dessert rack, but also some freshly
delivered vanilla ice cream to go with it.  Paying the cashier, she
proceeded to head up to the restricted wing.

    When she arrived, she immediately noted - before entering the corridor
towards Jeremy's room - that the nurses' station was vacant, as well as the
hallways throughout the wing.  To her that was unusual - each time she had
visited the wing in previous days there had always been a hustle of
activity, especially around this particular time of day as the shift change
occurred.  On this particular occurrence, there was no one to be found or
heard from.

    Unusual, but not unheard of she guessed, she made her way to the outer
corridor and proceeded toward Jeremy's room, only to find the door closed.
Lightly tapping the wooden sheathing but getting no reply she gently turned
the handle, only to find it locked.  That was extremely unusual, and as far
as she knew, a direct violation of hospital policy unless extenuating
circumstances warranted it - and she firmly believed that the teen's
situation did not even fall close to that scenario.  She then knocked
rapidly against the door, but hearing nothing from the other side, she
immediately set her things down and rush back up the hallway to the nurses'
station.

    Finding it still empty, she searched a nearby clipboard to be sure
Jeremy had not been moved, then searched and retrieved the keys to the
rooms.  Returning to Jeremy's room she unlocked and opened the door, only
to discover an unlit, unusually darkened chamber inside.  As her eyes
adjusted, she saw the teenager sitting propped up in his bed, his knees
pulled to his chest and held firmly by his arms wrapped around them.  His
face was buried into the folds of the hospital gown.

    She cautiously approached, noting he was breathing irregularly and had
yet to look up or acknowledge her presence.  "Jeremy?  What's wrong?" she
called out softly as she reached his bedside.

    Jeremy looked up startled, as if hearing her for the first time.  Their
eyes met and locked for a full minute, all the while alarming Carolyn that
something was not right.  She finally sat down beside him and wrapped an
arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close.  "What is it?  Has
something happened?"

    At first the teen did not reply, but rather just lay against her while
still holding his knees close.  Eventually however, he tried to open his
mouth and say something, but no words would escape his lips.  Carolyn, for
her part, waited patiently while she held the teen while at the same time
trying to balance her concern with growing alarm.

    It took over an half and hour before she could coax and get him to talk
to her, and almost as long before Jeremy could tell her what had happened
that afternoon.  At first Carolyn tried to place herself at a professional
distance so that she could balance objectively the merits of his story, but
the more he revealed, the angrier she became.  She was appalled and
speechless at first, but not once did she doubt his word.  She had heard
other stories at a distance about the psychologist that had made people
question the man's motives and practices before, but that had been long
ago.  When she looked down at the boy now, she could see the question in
his eyes before he even asked it.

    "You believe me, d-don't you?"

    She hesitated, recalling the locked door and the way she had startled
him, the effort that it had taken and more.  Then she saw the sincerity in
the teen, and she wondered how hard it would have been for others to
believe him.  She reached the conclusion that it probably would be very
hard - this teen had a reputation that preceded him for years and it
probably played a big factor on how people in the world would now perceive
him in the days to come.

    Her son, though, saw past all of that in a way that made her chest
swell with pride.  Despite the past, Michael lived in the here and now, and
what he perceived of this teen told her something.  If for nothing else,
she knew that having to live the way Jeremy lived - and survive - only add
more evidence to her belief that the teen had done nothing more than that -
building defense mechanisms along the way to fight the insanity of his
world.  She also believed his only recourse was probably to lash out at
those living around him, in school and elsewhere - and that, she resolved,
was where his bully-ish attitude had evolved from.  She smiled sweetly to
the teen, and calmed herself as she tried to disarm his tension.  "Yes
honey, I believe you, and mark my words, no one is going to send you away -
I swear it."

    The teen looked close into her eyes, and she saw they held a glimmer of
hope.  Her mind began racing, as she thought through what he had told her.
"I want to ask you something. If you don't want to answer me, its okay, but
at least think about it for a while, okay?"  When the teen nodded, she drew
a deep breath.  "Do you have any idea why your father did all the things he
did to you?"

    Jeremy's eyes hardened instantly and she feared he would withdraw into
himself once again.  However, she was surprised when his expression changed
to one of sadness as he slowly shook his head.  "No mam, I really don't
know," he answered in a hushed voice.  "When Mom was alive, he wasn't, you
know, really bad or anything - he was good to me most of the time.  Then
afterwards, things just - changed.  I always thought it was just me, but I
could never really do anything right.  We got to where we avoided each
other after a while, because I always felt like, I dunno, like he never
wanted me around or anything.  But those were just feelings; I never really
knew or understood why..."

    Carolyn nodded.  "Then leave it at that, if you don't know, then you
just don't know, okay?  Mark my words - it also means its not your fault.
You didn't deserve what he did, no matter how you may have acted or done or
even NOT done - no one deserves what he put you through."  She saw the
surprise in his eyes, and queried him.  "What is it?"

    For the first time in hours he smiled.  "Michael said something to me
like that the other day, too."  They both sat for a moment, a quietness
around them that was interrupted only by their breathing.  Carolyn put her
arm around the boy and drew him close yet again, thinking fast.  She wasn't
sure what she should do, but she was determined that the events of the day
were not going to hold its course.

    With a determination, she finally sat up, releasing the teen and
standing.  She opened the room's closet for patient's personal belongings
and found none, which caused her to grunt.  Turning to where the boy was
still seated on the bed, she whispered, "Don't leave, I'll be back in a few
minutes."  When he acknowledged her by nodding, she slipped into the
corridor again, closing the door.  The plate of food was still on the
floor, untouched other than the ice cream having melted and settled into
the bottom of the plate.  She left it, thinking it was even more noteworthy
that as it was approaching 6:00pm, no one had not only taken notice of it,
but the food service was still yet to be seen or heard from.

    She returned to the nurses' station, finding a single aide seated there
who looked up and smiled at her, but otherwise went back to some task she
was deeply involved in and ignoring her presence otherwise.  Carolyn
thought that unusual, but she was thankful for the lack of attention.  She
found the clipboard for the patients and this time searched for Jeremy's
stats, paying more strict attention to the details.  She furrowed her brow
when she came across the details and seeing the letters [HDR-LF, TBT]
across the bottom of the orders section.  Although not entirely sure, she
did recognize the "High Diet Restriction" note, and she guessed the TBT
represented to-be-transferred.  The confirmation sent her motherly
instincts into alarm, and she knew she had to make a snap decision.
Quietly removing the sheet and folding it into her pocket, she slipped out
of the station, giving the aide a smile and nod as she left, heading down
the hall toward the orderlies break room.

    When she arrived she found the room empty, so she slipped inside and
back into a dressing area reserved for hospital staff to change in and out
of their street clothes, should they so desire. There was a shelf in one
corner, and thankfully she found what she was hoping for: a single pair of
garments, both top and bottom, that resembled those of the hospital staff.
Taking them she slipped out unnoticed and returned to Jeremy's room.  Once
inside, she closed the door and approached the teen, still sitting on the
bed.  "Here, put these on," she whispered, answering his questioning eyes.
He took the garments and then started to stretch his legs forward.  She
heard him grunt and observed how slow he was to turn himself to the side of
the bed.  "Do you need some help?" she asked kindly.

    He grunted, and then sheepishly nodded.  "I can sit and stand and move
pretty well, but getting up and down or bending and stuff, well..."

    Carolyn smiled.  "I understand," she replied, then helped him by
pulling the bottoms onto his legs before getting him to his feet.  Pulling
them up and underneath the teens' hospital gown, she helped preserve his
modesty well enough he looked at her gratefully.  He himself shed the rest
of the gown and pulled the top on himself.

    The outfit was big on his frame, but not overly so, she thought.  "Not
the best, but hey, you might could pass for a young aide.  We have to do
something about your feet though," she added looking down at the bare feet
that protruded underneath.  Looking about, she found the flip-flops he had
been afforded by the hospital for getting about the halls.  Reaching for
them, she helped him get them on.  "These will just have to do for now.  If
we go by an empty nurse's station I'll see if there are any shoe covers we
can borrow.  That will at least hide your feet."  Nodding at their work,
she stood up and picked up his clipboard hanging at the end of the bed
before starting towards the door.  She had only made a couple of steps when
he grabbed her hand and held her back.  Looking down, she saw his eyes full
of questions.  "What is it?" she asked gently.

    "Won't you, like, get in a lot of trouble for this?"

    Carolyn smiled down at him.  "Probably," was all she said, but he saw
the mischief in her eyes, and eventually he grinned before relenting.  She
leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Let's get you out of here."

    - + - + - + -

    There was a knock at the door, and when the young doctor entered, he
was pleasantly surprised to find Kevin with his brother playing a card
game.  The younger of the two Mathews was sitting up in the bed in his
usual place while the older brother sat cross-legged at the foot.  Between
them several groups and suits of cards lay about, and as he walked up to
the bedside he saw more of them faced the younger of the two.  "What's
this, beating up on your brother again is it?"

    The grin that met him was infectious.  "Aww, anyone can beat Austin, he
is ssooooooo lame sometimes!"  Before either could react, Kevin playfully
got pelted back into the inclined mattress, a pillow now laying up beside
his head and falling from the impact.

    "Says who you runt?"  Austin was grinning as well, but he knew it was
true.  For some reason his little brother always seemed to have one up on
him when it came to card games of any kind.  He had little luck when it
came to them, but he knew how much Kevin loved them.  They had decided to
spend time this evening doing just that - spending time, playing some
games.

    The doctor nonchalantly smiled, then pulled a stool over to the side of
the bed and plopped down on it.  "Think you can break from your world
domination for a few minutes for me?"

    It was Austin who answered by picking up the loose cards and groups,
stacking them back into the deck.  Kevin gave up the hand he was holding
then laid back and pulled the hospital gown loose around him.  "Gonna check
my insides and everything again, I guess."  The young doctor smiled, then
with the young man's help he proceeded to place the stethoscope in
strategic places around the young boys chest, listening to the now steady
breathing and heartbeats that met his ears.  Austin just sat looking on,
knowing his brother didn't mind him being there, and after a couple of
minutes the man sat back, finished with the preliminaries.

    "Not bad, not bad at all."  He stared at the boy for some time before
continuing.  "Tell me, what am I going to do with you now?"

    "What do you mean doc?" Kevin asked, puzzled.

    The man grimaced then leaned forward.  "I mean that you are now, as far
as I'm concerned, capable of being discharged.  The blood tests run this
morning are pretty much clean except for some after-use residue.  That will
probably stay in your blood and urine anywhere from six months to a year
before it gets filtered out completely.  Other than that, your glucose
levels are returning to normal, and for the last two days your stats seem
to be as fit as any 12 year old boy's stat should be."

    When he saw both of the brothers start to look at him with what could
only be hope, he smiled but shook his head. "According to the law, I should
transfer you to the rehab center up in the big city, but the problem is,
it's not rehab you need."  He paused to let that sink in a moment.

    Kevin leaned forward, clearly dejected.  "I'm sorry, I really am, and I
don't know how much I have to say it to get people to believe me-"

    "It's not a question of believing you young man," the older man
interrupted.  "I sincerely believe you've seen the ugly side of what
happens in these cases.  I have to admit, you are the youngest patient that
has ever been through these doors in the whole 11 years we've been treating
drug abuse cases like this - and I don't mean by a few months."  He
collected his thoughts.  "The truth is, in some respects you need some
incarceration, but that isn't going to happen."

    "What? You mean..."  Austin held his breath as he waited for the
answer, interrupting the conversation.

    The doctor slowly nodded.  "I talked with Judge Miller this afternoon,
and he is inclined to let this slide, since this is a first-time offense.
You will still have a lot of public hours to work through this summer, if I
understood him right.  He isn't going to hold your withholding source
information against you, but you will still have to deal with the cause and
effect of breaking the law."

    Kevin dropped his eyes to the floor.  "I understand."

    "Do you?  Do you really?" the man declared, causing the young boy to
look up, where they both locked eyes to each other intensely before the
older man continued.  "Do you really understand that your body is still
that of a 12 year old boy just coming into its manhood, changing and
accelerating and adapting rapidly to a whole new world of feelings and
thresholds unlike it has ever had before?  Because that makes drug use 20
times more dangerous if nothing else, and son - you didn't even have pure
stuff.  It was laced and poisoned to the point it could have - no, it WOULD
have killed you if not for your brother here?"  Seeing the boy grow
fearful, he backed off.

    "Listen to me, both of you," the young doctor sighed deeply before
continuing. "You're way too young to be mixed up with this, and it's only
because of your sincerity that Judge Miller is inclined to let this pass
for once.  Heed my advice: don't end up under my care here again.  I'm
taking a chance - don't let me down, okay young man?" Turning to Austin, he
added, "As for you, give him a little more brotherly attention from now on.
It might do wonders for things you'll both hopefully live to appreciate
down the road, hmm?"

    Kevin leaned out to embrace the man tightly, his eyes moist.  "Thanks
Doc," he said softly, while the man returned the hug in kind.  Austin's
eyes, too, were moist as he reached out to shake the man's hand.  "Yeah
doc, thanks."

    After a moment the three separated before Austin looked up grinning.
"When can he leave?"

    The older man stood up smiling and walked to the door, opening it to
reveal their parents smiling and waiting in the hallway.  "As soon as he
can get dressed.  I already talked with your parents, but I wanted to talk
to you alone as well."  He grinned.  "I think everything will work out just
fine."

    Both Mr. and Mrs. Mathews stepped into the doorway.  "Ready to go,
son?" Mr. Mathews called warmly, addressing his younger son.

    Kevin let out a whoop as he scrambled from the bed and ran to hug them
both.  Austin only smiled as he watched, and after shaking both elder
Mathews' hands the doctor left.  Kevin broke from his parents and grinned.
"Give me 5 minutes to get ready," he spoke before running back into the
room, closing the door behind him.  Running to his closet to find his
clothes, he whispered excitedly, "Come on bro, help me!"

    Austin smiled, and then got down from the bed to do just that.

    - + - + - + -

    They had taken a rather haphazard way out of the hospital, avoiding
much of the regular hallways and using staff-only elevators and stairwells.
It seemed to work well for the most part.  When they left the room they met
one of the younger doctors coming from the other direction, but he had been
so engrossed in reading his clipboard they had both walked by unnoticed.
So far so good, Carolyn got them through the doorway to the main hall.  In
the corridor they passed a young security guard at his station, who just
happened to be caught up in a lively conversation the phone, and although
he did glance at the two, he evidently thought nothing suspicious.  Quickly
Carolyn maneuvered the teen until they reached a staff elevator and headed
to the first floor.

    "Now, just try to walk as straight and normal as you can.  I know
you're sore and still adjusting, but the only way I think we can get out is
through the emergency waiting area, and if we're lucky nobody from the
hospital staff will pay you much attention.  When we get there, you just
walk ahead and out the exit and head for the back parking lot.  I'll be
about 10-15 ft behind you, okay?"

    Jeremy nodded and did as he was instructed.  Reaching the exit doors,
however, a familiar face in the distance called out, "Hey Jermz!"  He
turned to look and saw Austin Mathews and his family getting into their
mini-van in the patient pick-up area.  Alarmed at being recognized, and
afraid someone might pay more attention to them, he tried to shake his head
and turn in the opposite direction, walking away rapidly.  From the corner
of his eye he saw Carolyn beginning to exit and follow up behind, but he
couldn't wait for her, not now.

    Two uniformed EMT personnel happened to be entering the emergency room
just then, and unfortunately they happened to take a long hard look at the
young man exiting.  They started to follow when Carolyn exited and noted
their interest.  "Excuse me!" she called after them, causing both to stop
and hesitate.  As she drew near she read their name tags.  "John and
Dustin, right?"  When they both nodded, she drew very close.  "Please
pretend you didn't notice him," she explained in very hushed terms.  "I'm
trying to get him outside for just a few minutes, so he can enjoy some
fresh air, that's all.  We'll be going back inside in a few minutes, okay?"

    They looked at her, not totally convinced.  "And you are-?" Dustin
inquired.

    "My name is Carolyn, I work up over in the doctors' clinic.  That's the
boy who came in abused by his father some weeks ago, and they have been
keeping him cooped up in his room for ages.  Look guys, I know it's not
normal procedure, but hey, give him a break just this once, okay?  He's got
nowhere to go, and I'm just sneaking him down to walk around a little
while.  Personally, I think it'll be more therapeutic for him than anything
he's had thus far."

    The two looked at each other, before John turned to her.  "You're
staying with him?"  When Carolyn smiled and nodded in return, he grinned.
"Yeah, I remember the kid's story.  Bastard tore him all to pieces didn't
he?"  He turned to his partner.  "Come on, let's get some coffee."  The
other man grinned and as one they continued on their way, leaving Carolyn's
sighing in relief.

    As she turned toward the parking lot, Jeremy was nowhere to be seen,
however, so she hurried to cross the access way.  Looking around for a
moment, but trying not to look frantic, she searched for the teen in the
now dusk lighting.  She passed several rows before suddenly hearing hushed
voices coming from one of the vehicles toward the end.  Nearing them she
noted two figures standing between two large trucks, one of them being her
young charge.  The other also looked familiar, but as she approached he
suddenly decided to move on and disappear back toward the hospital.

    "Who was that?" she asked anxiously when she reached Jeremy's side.

    "It was Austin, a friend of mine.  He saw me when I came out and ran
over, thinking I was being released too.  I told him to leave, that we were
in kind of a hurry right now, and that I would explain everything later."

    Carolyn, satisfied, noticed that Jeremy was slumping against the
vehicle.  "Are you alright?"

    He nodded.  "I'll make it; I just got to get off my feet soon, if I
can."

    She nodded and then carefully steered him toward her car, helping him
get into the back seat.  She whispered into his ear, "If you can, at least
till we get away from the hospital, try and stay down out of sight, okay?"
He nodded in reply, grunting as he shifted and got himself into the seat,
and then slumped his way into laying down in a near fetal position.  She
paused, making sure he was alright, then got into the front seat and
started the vehicle.  Without further incident, she left the lot and pulled
out onto the highway.

    All might have been seamless if it had not been for a pair of eyes in
the distance, who just happened to be looking in the right place at the
wrong time.  Clearing his throat and squinting to be sure he had saw
correctly, the older, unshaven man recognized the younger teen and sneered
as he also recognized the older woman who was with him.

    As he watched them leave the parking lot, he started his own engine and
pulled out behind them, ready to follow...


(To be continued...)


[SPECIAL QUESTION: I know some of my chapters run really long compared to
other stories. Does this bother any of you? I'd really like to know...
When I write, I try to fit a whole scenario-thingy intot he chapter, so I
can like, make them as complete as I can before you go to the next piece.
I'm not saying I do this perfectly or professionally, because I know I
really don't, but ummmm... I don't know, it's more of a feel-as-I-go kind
of thing - does that make sense?  What do you think, though?  Those of you
who will, let me know, okay?  :o)

---------------------------------

Comments to: EKidKy@hotmail.com
Other series by me:
   - Life's Road of Discoveries
     (www.Nifty.org, Gay-Young Friends section, Early 2008)
   - Terry and Sam - Short Story, Holiday Christmas Collaboration w/Ruwen
     (www.Nifty.org, Gay-No Sex section, Late 2008)