Saved?

Continuing in another chapter of my characters life

Jonah breathed into my mouth and pressed hard on my stomach, pushing upwards to remove the water from my body. The third time, I finally coughed up water and blood. Jonah turned me onto my side to drain the contents of my stomach. The blood quickly formed a sticky puddle around my head.  My body felt like lead cemented to the ground. It took all my strength to open my eyes to look at my tormentor. “Thanks, Jonah,” I wheezed as I closed them again, blood pooling in my eyes and running down my cheeks. The light above me was too bright to try and take in through my bloody eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied dabbing at the gash in my head with a wet paper towel. I shivered as the cold touched my already chilled skin. Coughs racked my body as more blood and water extracted themselves from my tired lungs.

“We are going to need more help then just a nurse,” Jonah said quickly as more blood came up. I didn’t even feel his hands as he gently carried me through the hallways, it was a blur of colors, everything looked red the few times I tried to open my eyes. I felt my head hit the hard metal bed as Jonah quickly set me down, trying to explain everything to Lydia’s aunt. I closed my eyes, content just to breathe, even if it was lightly.

“He’s got a fever and the chills, just keep him warm and don’t move him, I think his ribs are broken.” “Wait, Jonah!” I heard her call close to my head.

“Guy, what happened? Lydia get some blankets, Jonah’s already gone to call 911.” I opened my eyes to look at her shocked expression, then turned away in shame. Her horror was the same as the daycare, it surprised and grossed them out. Their eyes pitied me but they were reluctant to touch me. Or so I thought.

“I need a band aid and scissors,” Lydia said, gently turning my shoulders so I was flat on my back.

“Ah,” I winced, as the movement shot pain through my body.

“I said not to move him!” Jonah yelled as he came back.

“Sorry, he can’t lay like that, the paramedics are going to do it anyway!” she argued.

“Just shut up, we have to get those clothes off, I don’t know how much damage there is.” I wasn’t even listening, the police were sure to find me now. I would be right back in the system, barely out of it two months. Derek, they would take him to another home, no parent would take us together. I could even be at Juvie if no one could take me for the night. Derek, my lifeline, my only connection to sanity, was gone. I pictured him over and over in my mind, the pictures eventually wondering to Ugly. His green eyes concentrating on hurting me as he punched hard. The murky toilet water as it mixed with my blood.

“Right there!” I groaned as Jonah pressed on my side.

“Don’t do that,” I coughed, hugging my arms to my sides. He ignored me as he attempted to pull my sweatshirt over my head. I clenched my teeth, pulling away from his grip.

“Stop,” I whined, rolling onto my side, trying to breathe without actually taking a breath. Roughly, he pulled me back towards him,

“Ow, Jonah!” I yelled.

“Stop it your going to kill him!” Lydia yelled.

“I’m sorry, we have to fix it.”

“Your so stupid, I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

“Fine, you do it then, the paramedics will be here soon.” I closed my eyes as she lightly touched my forehead with a cool hand, grinding my teeth as she brushed my torn skin with her fingers.

“Move Lydia,” I heard Jonah order as I looked up, my eyes meeting the scissors he held in his hands.

“What are you doing?” I gasped between short breaths. He wouldn’t talk to me as he began to cut through my sweatshirt, revealing the bruises from my stomach up. I watched my black and purple stomach suck in and heave out again as my body tried to get air, I was too weak to try to protest any further. Nausea choked me every time I shivered even slightly. Sirens sounded and they came closer until they echoed through the school.

“Police, everybody step back!” A lean policemen pushed his way through the throng of kids outside the door.

“Paramedics are on their way,” he reassured Lydia’s aunt.

“What happened?” he looked Jonah over, seemingly trying to decide who the perpetrator was. Jonah turned a pale white as he talk fast. I ignored his story, I didn’t want to hear his lies. Lydia stood at his side as he spun what I thought was his web of lies. I didn’t bother to look, girls like that made me sick.

“You are under arrest,” surprised, I watched as they handcuffed Jonah and led him away, the paramedics rushing into the room as they left. Lydia looked mad and upset at the same time. Calmly, they set all their stuff down and took a moment to listen to the story. I blocked it out, I didn’t want to hear it, Jonah had probably taken all the blame for what Clay did. I didn’t have any control, I let them do what they had to as two of them rolled me onto my side. Sliding the backboard under me, they guided me back down. Gently they pushed me onto the hard back and strapped my chest and legs down. Just as they were fitting me with the heavy neck brace, I heard police yelling and knew it couldn‘t be good.

“Nobody move!” the words sent chills down my spine, I knew the voice and what it meant. Cold and vulnerable, I began to pass in and out of conscious as panic attacked my helpless body. I could hear bits and pieces of the negotiation as the policemen talked with Clay.

“Put the gun down and no one will get hurt.”

“Do you have any idea what this kid has done? He isn’t a human, he deserves to be killed. Instead he gets a media circus, cameras, papers, everything. I have done everything right and not one time has anyone ever cared. Do you know that the scout for my college, my future, chose the freshman instead of me? I practice everyday all day and he chooses him!” On one of my rounds back to sanity I heard the gun click, its gentle jolt jarring its hold against my forehead.

“He deserves to die!”

“Clay, don’t!” I heard Lydia scream and his thick footsteps moved to her.

“You betrayed me,” he sneered, waving his gun around. “You all betrayed me!” Suddenly there was a loud thud and the sound of a shot penetrated the blanket of unconsciousness in my being. Searing pain burned through my body and I could feel the sensation of warm blood pouring from my bare chest. I couldn’t take it anymore, the surge of people that gathered around my head told me I had not imagined the sound. As the throbbing registered in my brain, I could no longer hang onto reality, and quickly, my body shut down, its last defense against the world.  

part one

 “When will he wake up?” a muffled reply came from across the room.

“How soon can we take him home?” The voice was right next to me. The male replied from the other side of the room.

“He looks so sweet, what happened again?” I was glad I couldn’t hear the doctors explanations.     More lies, more excuses told for his side. Afraid of who was in the room, I waited till the door shut behind them. My throat felt dry, but I had no way to swallow, a thin tube breathed for me. At every beat of my heart the monitor near me beeped slowly, rhythmically. It hurt to even open my eyes, and I wished I hadn’t as complete consciousness and familiar pain returned. My silent friends.

“Your awake,” a sleepy Lydia rubbed her eyes as she came to stand beside my bed. I wouldn’t admit to myself how pleased I was with seeing her. Convincing myself I didn’t want her there, I ignored her.

“They figured you cut yourself, so they tied you down. Plus it helps keep the IV needle still,” she explained, nodding over to the needle taped onto my right arm. I couldn’t move my hands if wanted to, I had no strength left, I didn’t want to look anymore. 

“They shaved your head,” she attempted at making conversation. “At least you don’t have to wash it.” I heard her pause, I wasn’t in the mood. I could feel the pain despite the morphine suppressant. “You have an awesome set of stitches up here You should see the scar when you feel good enough to walk around.” Apparently my ignoring her didn’t effect anything. “Want to see the bullet hole,” I opened my eyes wide as she pulled the blanket off of me, moving the hospital gown so I could see. “I have a right to see him, he’s my son!” I clenched my fists at the whiny voice. “You can’t see your son, he’s sleeping right now,” the nurse stated clearly and firmly. Lydia quickly put the blanket back on and assumed her position in front of the bed. The yelling ceased as a police officer escorted the women in for the dramatic scene of worried mother. “I got you covered,” Lydia whispered, her warm breath breathing in my ear. “See, they let that girl in before me, she doesn’t even know Guy!” my mom whined. “Is he awake,” the nurse asked with fake politeness. “Oh no, I was just talking to him, if he could hear me.” I heard her voice shift slightly. “Can he hear me, I mean I was just learning in health class how when your semi conscious you can hear people,” her false girly voice rambled on. “So, he’ll wake up soon right?“ “We hope so ma’am,“ the nurse replied. “Why did you shave his head, he looks so awful,“ mom exclaimed, anxious worry attacking me. She could touch me, do anything and I couldn’t fight back. Her rough hand harshly rubbed the top of my scalp. “I can’t believe you people would do this without my permission. You just run in and take over, he is my son. Don’t I have a say in what he looks like on the news? Everyone is going to think I gave birth to a bald kid!“ “I think he looks kind of cute,“ Lydia offered. “Who are you?“ my mother demanded. Undaunted Lydia replied cooly, “Lydia Ann Almond, who are you?“ “None of your business ms Almond.“ “I think its time for us to go,“ the booming voice of the guard coaxed. “You can see him tomorrow, lets go.“ With hesitation, my mother agreed. “I hope he doesn’t wake up without me.“ “He looks pretty konked out to me,“ said the nurse. “Oh yeah, he is out like a light,“ Lydia answered, her voice switching to a sweet childs. The pain was starting to come back, it was all I could do to keep still. Lydia noticed the slight movement of my hand. “Nurse, isn’t it time for the next round of morphine?” she quickly spoke up before my mother could notice. Jumping on the chance to get my mother out, the nurse quickly took the offer, “Yes, I will have to ask you to leave, you can come back at visiting hours.” “Come on, you heard her,” the guard’s deep voice commanded, as he hustled my mother out of the room. The door closed behind them and the nurse added more painkillers to the fluid running into my body. “One down, eight to go. I’ll be back to check on him in a little while.” “Okay, thanks!” Lydia called as the door shut behind her. “Its okay, they are gone.” I barely opened my eyes long enough to acknowledge her. “I’ll let you sleep now,” she said, back to her normal voice. “Good night,” she flipped the light off and the room was dark again, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The bullet, the impact, the beatings, the scary sound of my mother. Above all, its what scared me most. I dreaded her every move. If I ever  heard her voice, felt her presence, ever again, it would be too soon. The hospital is supposed to protect you and make you better, instead, I was more vulnerable to her attacks then ever. I didn’t even want to live, I wanted to die. After the bullet hit I thought I would never have to hear or see her again. Never think about Derek, how I missed his little being beside me. I was his protection, his lifeline, for that I could keep fighting. Now I was in a hospital bed in a ridiculous nightgown, choking back tears that threatened to drown me. There was no denying the fact that my heart ached, physically. He was gone, and this time probably for good. I thought of all the things I could never give him and what he would have without me, but I could only think of myself, and it made the tears come harder. I needed him and he was gone, I couldn’t protect anyone, not even myself. The realization burned at my eyes, but I didn’t have control. It was like the memories, they didn’t stop, I had no way to just wipe them away. My mind was attacking me, “You let him go through exactly what you went through. You should have killed yourself a long time ago, you should have let go, he doesn’t need you, he will grow up to hate you,” the familiar voice returned. It echoed, draining all the energy from my hope sapped body. Everything was sore; the surgery they must have done in my chest thumped pain with every heartbeat of blood that circulated through my veins. My ribs hurt with every cry that threatened to break me in half. The light flipped on, but I didn’t bother to open my sore eyes. “Awe, I knew you were awake. Shh, it’ll be okay,” I couldn’t identify the voice, I didn’t want to. Slowly my thoughts grew farther apart and the nightmares were less distinct, until I couldn’t hear or feel anything.


    “He’s awake.” My senses reluctantly came to reality, fire beating into my gut as I breathed. “When will the news be here?” I opened my eyes, hoping it was only Lydia at my side. Fiery green eyes stared back at me, “Hey, the kid’s awake.” Her sneering tone and alcohol stained breath perfumed around what little air I was breathing. The Goth sitting in the chair with his feet on the food tray flipped through channels nonchalantly, without even a glance. “Can we go now, I have court in two hours.” Such an admiring life, I’m sure high school was productive for you. “Your girlfriends in the hall, didn’t know you went for the preppy type, she’s rich too. Keep her around for a little while, lose the parents though,” my sister pointedly glanced out the window. “Got to run, little bro, I’ll talk to you later okay?” It wasn’t a question, if I was unfortunate, I would see her again in a couple months. Sleeping in my bed when the rent got too high, with another disgusting human being. I shuddered at the thought of sleeping next to something that revolting. Gross. Exit stage left, in comes Lydia for scene two of my reality series. My sister smiled back at me as the parents stared in the window, whispering in each others ear with concerned looks. “I brought my parents, if they ask you how you beat Clay, don’t answer, just go with the story of ten foot long pole and I was dying with a knife at my throat.” I was getting a headache already. “Lydia, I really don’t…” “So, this is the boy you told us about. He sure is in a lot of trouble isn’t he?” The mother walked in and observed. That was an understatement. “Want to see the hole?” Lydia asked, already pulling down the piece of fabric clothing me. “No, no,” the mother yanked Lydia’s hand away. “I don’t think that’s necessary, darling.” “Hello, sir,” the fathers medium level voice filled my ears, forcing me to look at him. He reached out to shake my hand, and I found I was able to meet his. Stiffly, I shook his hand, trying to speak. My throat refused to emit any sounds that resembled anything like a word. “Lydia, sweetie, why don’t you get him some water?” Lydia obeyed and the mother handed me a glass. Willing my shaking hands toward the cup I tried to force my concentration on holding the glass upright. The water slipped over the side as my hand trembled faster, slipping the contents onto the white bed. I could envision the drops like blood, falling, staining what was clean. Embarrassment drew me from my thoughts as the mother placed a gently firm hand over mine and  guided my movements, patiently waiting as I took a breath, straining not to show my pain. I sipped the stupid drink and let her put it back on the tray. “Lydia, why don’t we step out and get something to eat,” she said, seemingly noticing the look on my face. The strength in my body to hold up, began to tremble and I felt sapped of any energy I once had. “Lydia,” her mother irritatingly dragged her out of the room. I watched her struggle, though harmless, the elegant hand on such a small arm, gripping so tight…


“Ow, your hurting me!” “Shuttup!” the familiar slap to my small cheek did not discourage my efforts. “He was hungry and I wanted to feed him!” I proclaimed, dodging his third swipe. “I told you no.” “So?” “You better watch your mouth you little….” the curse words sounded like gibberish to me, but I knew they were bad, so I said them back. The look that sparked in his eyes made me run, I raced to the stairs, the first safety place I could think of. The silent anger was the worst, I couldn’t tell when he was behind me, or how afraid I should be. Halfway up the stairs I turned to look and his large hand  smacked the back of my skull, throwing me off balance. Clumsily I fell down the boarded steps, smacking my hand against the wall. Blood trickled from my fingers in little drops, staining my pants. “Stop bleeding, you….” more gibberish, more pain as he kicked my from my defense position against the wall. The taste was sourly sweet in my mouth as I bit down on my already hurt fingers. I closed my eyes…



The pool of dark memories began to enclose me, and I slipped gratefully into its soothingness. No one could reach my thoughts, I was alone, at least for a few moments. “What room?” I heard the familiar voice question. I forced my pained eyes open, and my mind reluctantly came back to consciousness. The purple door opened and Daniel crept in caughtiously, carefully creeping over to the bed. Our eyes met, and I saw the hurt and pity that was there, he knew I could see what he was thinking, and his composure began to loosen. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let you go,” he stroked my head, carefully avoiding the stitches. “Oh, I have Derek,” he exclaimed, hoping to cheer me up. I opened my mouth to protest, “No, he is not with my “friend.” She broke up with me after you left, her loss,” he shrugged. “David’s got him, I told him I would makeup for all the hours that he missed if he watched him while I went to see you,” Daniel began to speak a little more normally, but soon dropped off, leaving us both to our own thoughts. At least Derek was safe, that should have been a relief, but anger rose inside me at his name. Once again Daniel “saves” me from my problems, couldn’t he have just let Derek go? I had failed him. “We need to talk.” Daniel pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. “I tried to get the hospital to give me you, but they don’t want you and Derek together right now.” “Just let Derek go into foster care it will be better for him anyway.” “I don’t have a choice. I only have Derek for today because I claimed I was the uncle. I can’t apply for custody or they would find out…” he paused. “Guy, I want you to go into foster care.” “What? Daniel, I can’t.” “Just be good. Its their first time having teenagers and they might keep you if you don’t slip up. That means no sneaking off, obeying, and staying at school.” “I can take care of myself. I always have, I’m not going home with a stranger again!” “Guy!” I didn’t let it show on my face that his deep tone startled me. “You’ll be okay. Its safe there, good school, you’ll be taken care of.” That‘s what they always say. “Daniel,” my voice cracked as the pressure I was forcing on it to talk increased. “Please..” “I have to go. Social services is coming to pick up Derek. I’ll be at the apartment if you need me.” “Daniel, don’t…” he donned his coat and hat and left the room. That was it. They were coming to get him and I couldn’t do anything about it. We were back in the system. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him what Derek needs. There would be no one to hold him at night or feed him crackers in the morning. Or protect him when he’s scared….

I cradled him under my jacket, the pouring rain running into my eyes and down my face as I walked. Falling faster, it dripped into the thick layers of clothing I had piled on his small frame. I paused for a moment to wrap my jacket tighter around us. Even in the dimming light of the evening, I pulled my collar around the scars on my neck, hiding the evidence of hard times. I ran for cover under a large star bucks tarp and waited for it to stop. For twenty minutes I waited in the uncomfortable metal chairs for the sky to let up on the broken ground, but it seemed to fall faster and the night was ever growing darker. Pretty soon dodging the night birds and creeps of the dark would be my sole reason for worrying. Derek slept peacefully against my chest as I supported his weight with both my hands. Taking off once again, I trotted along the streets, avoiding the dirty looks of the shop keepers and adults. Cold and shivering I ducked my head and kept going by them. The fish market was closed, I couldn’t go there. Daniel’s was too far and home…The memory of my mother lying face down where the imposter of a gentlemen had left her, was still vivid in my mind The threat on my life did not stray too far from my mind either. The way he gripped my neck had caused me to gag, and left markings in the shape of his hands. I slowed to a walk and rubbed my sore neck. The bruises were swelling and forming their ugly prints. There wasn’t much choice for tonight. I climbed the muddy hill to the park and carefully maneuvered my way into the round cement chunks used by many outcasts before me. Damp cigarette smoke stuck to the insides of my little cave like peanut butter, but it was dry and relatively safe until morning. I just barely fit my knees to my chest and created a little cavity of warmth for the eight month old I cradled so dearly. Trusting me, he slept on, and sinking into the warmth of the bond we shared, I slept.


“He should come to in a few minutes,” the latex snapped against the doctors wrist as the nurse turned off the faucet. “Where’s the mother?” the doctors crisp voice asked absentmindedly. “We don’t know, she was kicked out the hospital yesterday. She was quite the character.” “Aren’t they all?” His voice was a distant dream, a nightmare to the fog in my mind. “Well, let’s take a look here.” Pain brought my senses back rapidly, jerking at his harsh touch. “Woah there, buddy, its ok.” Like a video on fast forward, I quickly remembered where I was, the vulnerability I was subjected to. The nurse eyed me warily as the doctor held up his hands in defense. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to ask some questions and make sure your okay.” He looked over his chart and pulled a chair up. “Nice buzz,” he tapped his pen on my head as he sat. “So, Guy Peterson, heard you got into quite the fight.” “It wasn’t a fight,” I replied, clearing my throat, sharp pains stabbing my side. Eyebrows raised in surprise, he tilted his head, waiting for an explanation. “A fight is between two or more people. He hit me, I didn’t hit back. It wasn’t a fight,”  I wheezed. Regarding me with a look of skepticism his eyebrows raised up farther, “So what are you going to call this?” I shrugged, wincing as the ache in my body grew stronger. “He jumped me.” “Who jumped you?” he wanted me to specify, pen in hand. “Clay,” I breathed. “Whose Clay?” Didn’t he have a chart or something that told him all this? “A kid at school.” “Was this a friend?” “No, sir.” I answered somberly. “Who was he? A bully, an adult, boyfriend?” My eyes widened, didn’t see that one coming. “Bully, sir.” “Did this boy bother you a lot?” I hesitated. “This is a strictly private conversation, Mr. Peterson. The police will ask their own questions. I am trying to help you.” That was a lie, but I pretended like I believed him. “Yeah, he bothered me a lot,” the shortest answer I could give. “Did you do anything to provoke him?” “Other then breathe? No.” “Okay, so they hit you, then what happened?” “They tried to drown me.” “Where?” Does this guy know anything?
Sighs of my frustration struggled to escape, “In the toilet of the boys bathroom in school 119 on 5th ave.” The doctor murmured an understanding, “Then what happened? Did you blackout?” “Yes.” “How did you come out of it?” “One of the boys pulled me out.” “So there was more then one?” “Yes, there were three.” “So he pulled you out and were you breathing?” “No, he had to give me cpr,” I kept from cringing. The brains of the copying operation, the kid who loved making my life miserable, was also my savior. Well, depending on how you want to look at it. “Then you were brought to the nurses office where…” “I was shot,” I interrupted him, knowing his next question would be along of the lines of “and then.” “Can you remember anything from there?” “Up until the past few times I have been conscious, no,” I placed a hand over my burning stomach, the talking was killing me. “Do you know how long you have been here for?” “No, it feels like a day or two.” “You have been here a week,” he said, crossing his arms. Numb, I didn’t express the shock my mind reacted with. “Alright, well let’s take a look and see how your doing,” not quite believing me, but satisfied with the information he had, he started with his examination. “Breathe for me,” his cold stethoscope chilled me as he leaned in close to hear. I took a breath as deep as I could without throwing up from pain. “Does it hurt when you breathe?” No, I only broke a couple ribs. “Yes,” I clenched my teeth. “Does it hurt when I touch….” I was already wincing. “What about here?” he pushed on the tender middle of my stomach. “Yes,” I hissed. The concerned nurse reached over and held my arms at my sides as the doctor continued to prod. I tilted my head back, trying to breathe normally and keep from showing pain. “Well the x-ray showed four broken ribs. You had some internal bleeding and head trauma.” Oh, good to know. “Are you sure it was only one incident that caused all this?” he asked pointedly examining my scarred arm. Thinking fast, I went over my options. I could tell him everything, about the night before at McDonalds, but then there would be the question of, why didn’t you go to the hospital? I could tell him about my sisters boyfriend, but then there would be a family investigation and with my sister doing drugs…No I couldn’t let them go to jail because of me. Clay deserved to go to jail and it was his own fault for being so obvious about it. “Yes, sir,” I answered firmly. “You know cutting yourself isn’t going to solve anything.” “Yes, sir,” I answered again, watching him as much as I could with the nurses shoulders in my face. “I know, I went through it too. If somebody’s hurting you, help is here,” he offered. “Don’t be like me, I never told anybody when my sister died after my mom shot her. Ironic how just the day before social services came up to check on me, like they always so, and I told them nothing was wrong. They didn’t know my brother lay on my bed, covered in blood from a broken nose. I reset it myself, doctor skills came early,” he state matter of factly, containing his straying thoughts. He slid over to me and lowered the bed so he could sit on his chair with wheels and still be high enough to reach me. Was this guy for real? The deep concentration that etched itself in his forehead told me it was. I have almost gotten myself killed trying to keep my life a secret. Even if the world knew, I would never admit it. He probably had my file anyway. Social services documents you, your life is a book for anyone who thinks they need to know. Behavioral problems, family problems, the group home I was in, and the two foster homes I was in briefly were all in there. I was sure he had read it and felt sorry for me. Now he was trying to “buddy” up to me, thinking he could change what happened. I was determined not to trust him and was guarded as he inquired further. “Alright, let’s check your feet.” Not quite sure what my feet had to do with anything, I watched him forcing the pain to subdue to my will of ignoring it. After he noted the burn scars on my legs on his chart, I realized what he was doing. A full examination. I had them so many times before, especially as a child, but they didn’t get any less invading as I got older. He frowned and checked something off on the chart that he balanced in his lap. The daycare I was at especially loved dragging me in for interrogation when I was little. Their instincts told them something was wrong, my mom’s cover kept evidence from ever leaking out. With my mouth glued shut, they tried to find anything they could to get evidence for social services. I consistently had bruises from my sisters, most of the time the marks came from them. Left alone for hours I was subjected to their games. Cannibals was their favorite, of course, I was the kid to be eaten. Tied to a tree, they tickle tortured me until my sides hurt so bad I would wish they just beat me up. Then I could hide, comforting myself that I had been brave through it, instead of laughing ridiculously in pain. They stopped when it began to rain and went into the house.

“Come back!“ I screamed after them as they shut and locked the door. I pitched a fit until I was exhausted, my sides already raw from where their fingernails scarped my skin. The red car of my real father finally pulled in the driveway of our apartment forty five minutes later. Sopping wet, I shivered as he came over, putting the pizza box on the ground. “Boy, you let the girls beat you again?” his stone face appearing in my view as he untied me. I threw my arms around his neck, hoping maybe he would give me some attention. “Whoa, hold up, boy, your sopping wet.”  “They hurt me,” I pouted, taking his hand as we walked to the house. I shivered as he let go of me to open the door with his key. “They left me out there all day!” I whined, wiping away the water that was dripping into my face with a bony hand.“ They didn’t mean it, they were just playing. Go upstairs and change, your momma’s got the table set. Merriam, I‘m home!” “I’m  not hungry and I don’t want to sit at the table with them.” “Fine then you go to your room and don’t come down,” my father screamed,  losing patience with me. “You’re a big boy, don’t be so whiny,” he called after me as I raced into my room.  I slammed the door, collapsing on my little cot when his footsteps faded into the kitchen. I could hear the fighting behind the closed door as my mothers latest boyfriend got caught in the act. Hiding under the blankets, I cowered as the screaming continued. “I can’t believe you did this to me again!“ my small ears raced with images from the sound of his fist against her powerless body. I lay with the pillow over my head for a long time, waiting for the fight to die down. “He’ll come after dinner,” I told myself, talking just to hear the sound of a kind voice. I heard his heavy boots marching around the kitchen and my hopes rose slightly. I even dared to creep to the door and peek out just in time to see the front door slam. Running to the window, I already knew what had happened. His car started and I watched sadly as he drove away, without looking back. Dejected, I stayed until after dinner and through the night. Maybe he would feel bad for me and come comfort me, but he never did. “What do you care? He will be gone soon and there will be another one.”  ,My imaginary friend told me as I lay, staring at the clock. “Will the next one care?” I asked the voice. “No, they are your mom’s boyfriend’s they don’t care about you. Your own Dad doesn’t even care about you. You should get some sleep, you’ll be getting up alone too. No one likes you anyway, you’ll be lucky if your lunch is packed., now go to bed.” My imaginary friend  told me nicely, and I closed my eyes. I went to sleep wit his words like a lullaby. “You can take care of yourself, who needs them anyway? You get up alone, you go to school alone, and you come home alone if your lucky. Oh, and stay away from your sisters as much as you can. The man might not be there to untie you next time, you’ve got to be smarter about this stuff.” “Your right,” I whispered back. “Anthony will share his lunch with me, I am on my own now, he will understand.”

“What kind of knife did you use?” the doctor brought me back to my present reality. “I didn’t…..I mean, a kitchen knife, sir,” the pressure of talking was creating an underlying pain in my voice. The cuts looked like they had a awhile to heal. The larger ones were sewn together with tiny black stitches. “Those are healing nicely, the chest cavity is doing good as well.” He touched my face with cool hands, regarding my wincing calmly. My nerves buzzed as he continued to touch me without my consent. “How bad was the hole?” I work up the courage to ask, my fists clenching and unclenching as he went over every inch of my broken face. “Pretty bad, the bullet pierced the chest cavity opposite your heart. It missed any major blood vessels, but caused continuous bleeding. Your broken ribs pierced some organs internally, but it has all been taken care of.” Oh great, nice to know. “Alright, the stitches look pretty good,” his latex gloves slid smoothly along my closely shaven head. “Care to tell me how this happened?” There was so much blood, I couldn’t really remember. “Maybe on the car, or something,” I began to say before remembering that the doctor wasn’t supposed to know about that fight. “I don’t know, it’s all a blur really,” the nurse pushed in more morphine as I grimaced. Sighing, he slipped a gentle gloved hand under my chin and tilted up. Holding my head back with one hand, he shone a flashlight in my eyes. I could still see spots as he pulled away causing me to blink rapidly. The door opened and the doctor stood, the spots in my vision following after him. I closed my eyes and rubbed them gently, “You okay?” the pain in my ribs had drowned out my senses, I didn’t even hear her soft steps coming over. “No,” I admitted for the first time. “Here, I brought you food. That nasty stuff they try to pass off as food isn’t going to help you any.” My heart raced as the pain in my chest and side suddenly increased. “Is he awake, Lydia?” the deep voice of her father spoke out, coming closer rapidly. My heart began the race, forcing the burning through my blood. I hope they weren’t close enough to see my wince as flashbacks pounded my head, the impact of the bullet and my breath leaving my body as the life slowly drained out of me. The heart monitor beeped faster, increasing with the speed my mind was forming the images at. “Oh no, what’s wrong? Nurse!” A woman screamed. “Okay, everything’s fine, just calm down do you want them over here?” my brain tried to persuade me. “What’s wrong, Guy?” Lydia whispered in my ear. I was in the hospital, but I felt like I was still there in my front yard with my sisters boyfriend towering hauntingly over me. My sister yelling to her boyfriend that I wasn’t worth anything while I was bleeding on the ground echoed back and forth between bits of the nurses conversation with Lydia. I was fading in and out of reality. The final blow to my head and it was over, I was worth nothing to the drunken man. I shook Derek, I deserved it, didn’t I? The sensation of blood running down my body and my height of emotions made me forget where I was. “You all betrayed me!” ,“He’s not worth your time”, “Are you coming sweetie?”, “He is having a seizure I think we should leave”, ““We all know what you did, Guy. No one will ever forget it, we’ll make sure you remember it everyday of your life”, “They hurt me Daddy”, “One step, two steps, three steps your dead”. The nurse touched my arm to insert the needle. My mind struggled to perceive who it was, but all that was inside my head were images of Clay holding me down under the water. I jerked from her touch, the feeling of not being able to breathe coming back to haunt my conscious body. The nurse got who I thought was Lydia to hold my head, but I wasn’t sure. “Guy, Guy,” she was talking to me, trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t return to reality yet. The powerful grip of the images would not let go. With Lydia’s help, the nurse held my head and jammed the needle into my neck. The memory of water surrounding me overcame my sense of reality as the water filled my lungs again and cut off my airway. I didn’t need the sedative, I passed out.


    “He doesn’t matter, leave him, come with me,” I could feel the stab of the knife in my stomach. My eyes opened in the community park with Clay, Jonah, and my sister’s boyfriend standing over me. One by one they left revealing a cold and dark wood around me. Jonah was the last to leave and with a final look, that spoke both sorrow and anger, left me prey to the darkness surrounding me. Derek was there too, my mother had him. He was screaming for me, reaching out, but I didn’t have the strength to lift my own head. The bloodcurdling scream of his deep soul pierced the night as my mother ran away with him, a white shadow under twinkling stars. All that was left was me, not even my own soul would stay. My mother had stolen it, and its screams still echoed in my empty ears. My reason for living was gone, and the blood leaked out of me until there was no more…..  

    I woke in cold sweat, the image of the fresh dream fading slowly. The tears that were still pouring down had sopped the pillow. I could feel the wetnes, it was cool against my bare head. Reaching for the blankets, I tried to pull them over my head, a long and overused used source of comfort. Bound to the bed, my hands snapped back to their place against the cold metal bars. My fists clenched, trying to physically stop the crying just to relieve the burning ache running through my side, pounding at me to cry harder. I couldn’t stop, the unbearable amount of pressure buildup was taking its toll and the demons were not going to be held back this time. There is no such thing as quiet sobbing, but I did my best. Instinctively my whole body tensed and my senses heightened in defense. The nails on my fingers dug into the tender flesh of my hands. “Hey, its okay, no one is going to hurt you,” a deep male voice sent me into panic. A calloused but gentle hand reach out and enclosed my fists in his large fingers. “Your mom’s newest boyfriend hit you?” Clay’s voice sounded close in my mind. I could feel him hitting me, taking my fate into his hands, but I couldn’t pull away. “Don’t be scared,” the man whispered, squeezing my tightly closed fists. His cool strong voice started to penetrate the haze in my mind and I could feel myself regaining control. My heart slowed and I began to cool down, the pain slowly making a powerful come back. Just as fast as the tears had come, they stopped, though I felt like I could cry a million more. The deep part of my anguish had not yet been quenched, retreating with a quiet vow of revenge. “You gave Martha and me quite a scare,” the man said in the darkness as he let go of my hand when my breathing returned to normal. Great, there was a girl in the room and I had acted like that? Was nothing ever private? “It’s because you’re an idiot, you should have listened to your smarter side and stayed home. These are just more foster parents, more changes. They probably just think its another damaged teenage melt down, like all the others. The social workers must have mentioned how weak you are and they took pity on you. It’s a pretty good sob story,” my mind sneered. “Shut up,” I silently answered, although I knew it was probably right. I should “consider myself lucky” for even getting a home that takes teenagers. He stood and clomped to the sink, turning the squeaky faucets on. I wouldn’t allow my mind to think about Clay. The sink that I had hid under….the sound of his shoes in the floor as he discovered I wasn’t a smoker trying to sneak one in before class. The water stopped, “You think you had a bad enough nightmare? On a scale of one to ten I would give that about eleven,” he joked. “I know how it is. I used to scare my foster parents so bad when I woke up screaming.” He put a wet paper towel to my forehead, relieving the burning for a few seconds. Dabbing gently, he wiped my eyes then took it away. Gently curling his hand, he put the back of a large palm to my cheek. “You really worked yourself up,” he pulled the blankets back slightly. My fingers tingled with nervousness, I could do nothing against him. I hated my pathetic vulnerability. “It’s okay, listen, I’m going to let you sleep okay? You need it, me and Martha will be back in the morning. Hope you feel better, Guy,” my pulse slowly returned to normal as he back away. The door opened and light flooded in, his thick frame outlined by it. Shutting with a slight click, the heavy door enclosed me in my unspoken loneliness. Longer hours passed before restless sleep closed my eyes and unclosed my fists.





“Hello, Philip, my name is Lydia. These are my parents, Amy and Manny Almond.”
“How do you do Mr. and Mrs. Almond?” “Quite well, thank you,” Lydia’s mother replied elegantly. “We are here to make sure this young man gets a good home. Lydia asked us to come,” her father offered an explanation for their presence. “Oh I see,” Philip said, seemingly uncomfortable. “Are you going to adopt him?” Lydia’s mother asked politely. “We’ll see how it goes,” Philip replied. That’s a good phrase for it. It really means, “maybe you will, maybe you won’t.” As badly as I wanted to talk to Lydia, I didn’t want to talk to her parents. Their upper class mentality made me nervous, although their willingness to help was obvious. “Where’s the doctor?” Lydia’s mom asked as the tension of uncomfortable silence mounted. My new foster parents stepped protectively in front of me. “Well, the doctor just slipped out for a little while, he will be back soon.” Their friendly conversation went on for a couple minutes and I slowly drifted off to get away from the intense pain that was exhausting me. “Hello, everybody,” the intruding doctor from the day before strode in. The heavy door opening and closing with an irritating click that I was starting to hate. “You know, we could move him to a better hospital, we would gladly pay for it,” Lydia’s mother offered. The father grunted at his wife’s well intentioned rudeness. “No, that’s not possible. He is still unstable at this point, to move him to a better hospital is not necessary. We are well equipped to deal with these types of things right here,” he said grumpily. “So, Mr. Almond, you and your wife are going to be the potential foster parents of Guy Peterson, is that correct?” “That’s correct, sir.” “Good, umm, who are you two people?” the doctor addressed Lydia’s parents. “Lydia’s parents, we are here to make sure everything goes smoothly. Guy is a friend of Lydia’s and we will help out as much as we can.” “Well that’s nice, uhh, let’s see. Mr. Almond, have you met Guy yet, or is that still on the to do list?” “Well I kind of did, not formally but I don’t think we should…” He was cut off. “Good, I will introduce you.” “Maybe not here in front of everybody,” Philip suggested, backing up closer to my bed. “If its okay, I would like to spend some time alone with him if I could.” “Sure, whatever you feel is right. I will take Lydia and her parents to the waiting room.” “Thank you,” Phillip said gratefully as he escorted Lydia’s family and her out the door. “Well we got rid of them. Come on, open your eyes. There was no way anyone could have slept through that awkward situation.” “Ugh, my eyes hurt,” I moaned quietly as I forced my tension torn eyelids to let in some light. “Have you even met her parents, they didn’t seem like they knew you?” I shook my head, “I don’t even know Lydia really. I mean, we have always known of each other but were a long ways from the definition of friend. She’s just here because her boyfriend’s a jerk.” He shot me a sideways look, like he didn’t believe me. “You know the hospital staff says she has been here since last week. Sometimes staying through the night?” This was news to me, but I pretended like it wasn’t. I was happy she cared, but was sure her infatuation wouldn’t last long. Not wanting my response to appear uncaring I added, “She is a nice girl and everything, but a friendship really shouldn’t be based on pity.” He sat down heavily, the lanky frame of a large man climbing over the back of the small chair. The guy couldn’t be more then thirty, thirty five maybe. His blonde bangs were combed straight so that the ends were half over his welcoming brown eyes. The outlining of his easygoing personality was lined with some hardened defense but not much. “Okay, let’s start up front. My name is Philip, but you probably already picked that up from my conversation with Lydia.” He was smarter then I thought. “Please call me Phil.” Easy enough. “Second, I don’t have a tape recorder, note pad, or any other form of document that I could use against you. Whatever you tell me, whatever you say, is private for me and me alone. Unless we decide together that we want to tell someone else okay?” He gave me a look to make sure I knew he was serious. I nodded, no harm in letting him lie to himself. Information would leak into court or social services for some evidence of my horrible past, not that it was hard to hide. “Alright then, while the little lady and her stiff parents aren’t here, is it okay if I talk with you?” What harm was there in that? At least he was asking instead of just assuming he had the right to start ordering my life around. “Okay, I’m going to be real honest with you up front. If I am going to be your foster parent, you have to promise to be good.” Good, what’s good? What did he think I was going to do, murder his wife? “I got little kids at home, man, I can’t have you hurting them; most of them have been through many experiences like you. I’ve also never done teenagers, I have fostered for a long time, but always little kids.” He sighed, continuing with his decision to be honest. “They asked me to take you because everyone else was full or didn’t take teenagers.” Who could blame them? I mean, why would anyone want to take a teenager, they are all brats right? “That means no throwing stuff, no late nights out, and most of all, you are to keep your hands off the kids when you are angry,” his narrowed eyes pointed at me like daggers. I nodded, looking away from his intense glare. It had a way of making me feel guilty before I had even done anything. Late night? I would give anything to sleep without worrying about Derek. I wouldn’t mind if I couldn’t leave the house at all, so long as that bed is mine. “Okay,” his tone softening as he looked into my pain stricken eyes. Quickly I tried to clear the emotion from them, forcing myself not to feel, though constant pain was ever insistently pulling on my nerves. “Hey its okay, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t’ want to get you to the house and have to let you go five days later. I know how it feels, its not fun to know you aren’t wanted. But sometimes that isn’t always the case; sometimes its because of the behavior that is exhibited that scares people. Its’ not always that they don’t want you. I moved to five homes in two months once. That was when I first got off drugs and drinking. I was going through relapse and lashing out at anyone who got near. I finally found a family who would put up with me and I began to get a lot better, but that didn’t last long. They had another teenager there and I was mixed up in a fight with him. He was always making fun of me and some of the other kids they fostered. I had enough and just lost it. It was either him or me and since I swung the first punch, I had to leave. I met up with him again in a group home some years later. After he had hit one of the younger kids, not too long after I left, they let him go too. Who could blame them? The other kids shouldn’t have had to suffer because they weren’t in our position.” He said our like we were the same story. I admired him for his honesty, but I didn’t need the sob story. I would have obeyed without it, though his feelings were understandable. Half of my life was messed up because I was a relief for other peoples problems. He grew quiet for a few minutes, but spoke up again, “anyway, that’s another story, another time. I had hoped I could just spend some time with you and we can try to figure each other out. I don’t want ot make you come to our house if your going to be uncomfortable, but I also want to discuss what happened with the boys, if your up for it. They are going to send a counselor in here and depending on who it is, they can make your life miserable or give you someone to talk to. Most of the ones I have experienced are older then you about five years. I just don’t want you to have to figure out your fate as it comes. You feeling up to it?” What did I have to lose? Maybe this guy had a few good points and someone I vaguely knew was better then a counselor. Nothing that makes you feel better then pouring your feelings out to a stranger. I nodded to show that I understood. Speaking would hurt too much. “Alright, let’s start with the basics. I’m Philip, Philip Almond. I’m thirty four years old, I have a drivers license, and no I have never been arrested.” He smiled, “Not yet, anyway.” The more he spoke, the less interested I was. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, I wanted to draw back inside myself. I knew his questions would bring up things I didn’t want to discuss or remember, I didn’t want him to have to get caught up in my life. This was my problem, I just needed to get out of the hospital and find a place to stay. I didn’t want to be subjected to people anymore, make myself invisible again, blend in with the ignored scenery of New York city. Hide all pain, hide all sorrow, bury it and only let it live inside you. No one cared anyway, although I could see the hurt in his eyes that he wasn’t getting through to me. I felt bad, but he didn’t know what he was getting into. Falling silent again, he rubbed his hands together nervously. Probably trying to think of something dramatic that would bring us close together and bond instantly. “I read your file,” he said hesitantly, looking at me, searching for emotion. Him and the rest of the world, but it was the last thing I wanted to hear and the worst possible thing he could have said. All my pain and embarrassment that is supposed to be private, something I could always hide, is all wrapped up in a few opinionated paragraphs. “I heard,” he paused uncomfortably, still rubbing his hands, “rather I read about the cuts on your arms.” That was gallant, why doesn’t he just admit everything that he read? It wouldn’t make a difference, people have read the file before and tried to get me to believe they had gotten the answers they wanted from me and not the file. I knew what was in it, so I looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Abruptly he stood and peered closely at my arm. The rate of my blood flow increased against my will to stay in control. The ever present jabbing stab in my gut reminded me of my fear. Restraints kept me from pulling away as he ran his fingers along the deep jagged lines that marked my past. “You didn’t do this yourself,” he stated letting go and crossing him arms, daring me to challenge him. Struggling to breathe normally, I didn’t argue. He was smarter then I thought. “Of course he was smarter then you. A rock could be smarter then you.” The pounding in my brain was starting to take over my defense by completely knocking it down. “The other scars have to be at least nine years old and I hardly doubt you were cutting yourself at seven. You would have had to have been old enough to handle the kitchen knife stably to make those.” His voice was firm, the eyes of experience narrowing at me. “Who did it? Your mom, dad, siblings? I closed my eyes tightly to cease the hammering in my ears for a few seconds just so I could think. This guy was a total stranger, there was no way I was going to tell him anything. “You know he doesn’t care. He would probably murder you himself if he got the chance. Don’t trust him,” the voice treaded heavily across the pathways of my logical thoughts. I tried to reason with myself. Have I ever told anyone up until now? Would it really change anything if he knew? Any answer I cam up with only was outdone by the intense pressure caused to speak any word that came to my mind, let alone explain anything. He waited a few minutes, then sighed. “You know, this isn’t about you and your emotions anymore. You have a brother to protect and whether you tell me who did this or not will help decide whether your brother will go back to your mom. Is that what you want? I don’t know everything about you, but I know enough to conclude that your not telling even half of the real story.” I couldn’t take it in, it was too much. I had only just gotten over not seeing him, and now I had to decide his fate? I wanted to ask how long, when, where and why, but I was stopped by his fierce glare. “It’s your choice, I’m not going to force anything out of you. If you tell me we can decide together whether we want the information to be revealed.” His red face and clenched fists told me of his short temper, and it scared me. We both jumped when the door creaked open. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, using his business voice. “No, no, we are just finishing up. I’m going to get something to eat and check on Lydia’s family.” Philip threw one glance before sprinting off down the hallway. “What’s gotten into him?” Daniel raised bushy eyebrows as he eyed the restraints. Deciding to mention nothing, he started in, “We have to talk. It’s about Derek and you. They are reopening the case and unfortunately all evidence points to you. They think you did, they think you shook him, Guy! You got to tell them.” I did do it, he is talking crazy talk. I just told him I didn’t do it to keep my job, didn’t I? It was a warm night, unusual for the winter months. No more beer, tv blaring, baby screaming, mom got closer…My mind stopped at the wall of my denial. I refused to remember that day. I shook Derek, I did. So what if I shook him, I was taking care of him now right? The hammering was becoming a fast paced roar that echoed and rang in my ears. Stunned, I tried to think. “ Just give it up, tell them you did it, who cares what happens to Derek? You have always been selfish, why stop now?” the voice poked at my mind, forcing me to retreat. Making an attempt to escape, I closed my eyes tight. “No, Guy, don’t do that! They are going to take you to court. If you say you did it, Derek is going to go back to your mom and you will lose rights to him forever. You can’t let that happen, Guy!” I was already fading back into a black world of darkness, a recovery for my broken thoughts. The irritating hinge of the door filled the hollow outer space of what I could hear. Their words were barely audible over the ringing tingly numbness in my ears. The nurse said something about psychotic breaks with reality. If she only knew.