Mr. Mark Delauter Sr.
Dinner with my family is one of the bright points in my day. I get to see my children for the most part and while Bethany loves her mother she does seek my approval from time to time. My name sake is passing his college classes but I’m beginning to think a male tutor might be needed since he keeps posting pictures of girls he’s with and I’m beginning to worry that it’ll be a major setback in a couple years. My Abigail is a bright and promising student with grades and a work ethic that will make any business proud, and her sister helping her out socially which is a bonus. I miss how they used to be inseparable before their mother died. And speaking of Mothers my wife Loretta is an amazing woman, Linda was a great mom but it takes strength to come into a family and establish yourself as a good parent. Thankfully I have some great kids. Not to forget the dark horse in the family Loretta’s boy Guy. I had hoped he would come out of his shell over the years but he seems more and more distant as time winds on. I’ve been looking at college options for him when he graduates this year, he and Abigail are my academic powerhouses so wherever they want to go to college they get to go. Mark Jr. and Bethany are Texas College bound through and through but they like it here and it keeps them on a short leash. Put one on the other side of the country and who knows what messes they would make. Back to Guy I’ve been concerned for a couple months now that he’s trying to cut himself off from family and might be getting into trouble. After he came home early in the morning one day I decided to keep a loose eye on his comings and goings from the house, needless to say there isn’t much. I hated to be the one to tell him his biological father is missing but better coming from me than his mother. I watch her look to him in passing moments and know that my wife feels a bit sad at the state of things but if it were horrible he would say something. I’ve always prided myself on open communication between the family.
Back to current events of the day we’re all having dinner in the dining room, Loretta made roast beef with mashed potatoes and green beans. A classic and I feel like things are turning up well for the family. Guy hasn’t come down from his room to get his plate but when he does I’m going to encourage him to sit with us and drag him into the conversation with the rest of the family. Bethany is talking about this Halloween at the end of this month and some party she wants to host at the house, she loves showing off my hard work and I do too at times. Mark is thinking about moving to the dorms on campus, it’s a good thought but I want his grades up and if paying for gasoline in the tank gets me that I will take the bargain. Abigail is a little quiet but attentive to everything including the empty seat next to her where Guy would be. We’re half way through dinner and no sign of the boy. I have a mind to bring him a plate and have a talk in his room, get a feel for where he’s at.
I’m about halfway through my plate when Loretta’s phone goes off in the kitchen, I don’t like electronic devices at the table as it takes away from family time. Regardless she ignores it and allows it to go to voicemail. We continue to eat when the phone goes off again and Loretta removes herself from the table to answer the call, I can hear Mark talking about a winter trip to Europe for skiing when there is a commotion in my kitchen where my wife is. I hurry from the table and find my wife on the floor shaken and unable to stand. The kids are there with me as I try to rouse my wife.
“Honey are you alright,” I ask my distressed wife.
“Hospital… he’s at the hospital… I need to go to the hospital…,” I hear come from my wife’s mouth but don’t understand.
“Lori who is in the hospital,” I ask and she looks at me.
“My baby is in the hospital, we need to leave now,” her final words confuse me a little.
I watch as Loretta finds her feet and begins to scramble through the house looking for whatever she can to get out the door. I don’t know who called but if my wife is distressed I’m going to help solve this. I get my keys and jacket, and then grab her phone before ushering my wife into my car while my children attempt to ask questions.
“I don’t know what is happening but until I get home Mark keep the girls here,” I tell my son who give me a determined look.
In the car and five minutes of driving when Loretta informs me that we’re going to the wrong hospital. We end up driving almost across town but not quite as we pull into visitor parking and I have to jog to keep up with my wife who is running in her bare feet. I return to the car to grab her shoes and back into the hospital.
“Where did the hysterical woman run off to,” I ask the nurse at the counter.
She puts me in the right direction and I find Lori standing and talking with a different nurse in the surgery wing. I arrive at my wife’s side only to have her bury her head in my shoulder crying.
“Nurse could you please explain to me what is going on,” I ask attempting to get a lay of the land.
“I was just telling your wife that your son is in surgery for a knife wound to the abdomen, he’s been in there for a couple of hours now and the sitting area is back the way you came,” She is a professional but needs a little lighter touch.
“That will be fine Ma’am, where do I set up billing,” I get it out of the way early and I won’t have to deal with the forms when we should be with Guy.
I leave Loretta sitting in a chair and get her some water while I fill out the insurance information. I actually have to message my policy handler and request the updated information. I keep all my children on my coverage since it’s hard out in the world without it. I complete the form and wait for another hour when my second hurdle has walked in the door and is looking for my wife. She’s an intense Detective from the police force, Latina female and a no nonsense attitude. I know this because I’ve cross examined her.
“Mr. Delauter, I’m surprised to see you down here. Visiting a client,” Detective Escalante asks being barely polite.
“I’m here with my wife, our son is in surgery,” I counter and she smiles.
“Wonderful, I get to speak with both of you,” sitting next to my wife who is unsure of what is going on.
For the next half hour we are questions about Guy’s activities, his whereabouts, known friends and any problems he’s been having. I’m in a bit of a predicament as neither I nor my wife can answer these questions in any real capacity. It’s when she begins to fill in blanks that I find myself questioning my status as a ‘good’ parent.
“Do either of you know where Guy got some of the long term bruises on his body,” Escalante asks and I’m confused,” You didn’t notice your son has been beaten up on a regular basis.”
“Nobody beats my children, and I don’t believe in violence as a punishment,” I counter but she doesn’t believe me.
“And the missing molar just happens to be something not related to his family life? Can either of you tell about the improperly healed right wrist the doctors found pre op,” Escalante asks again and the only person more horrified by the realization of what we’re hearing than me is my wife,” Okay again no. Do either of you have any idea why he would be half way across town from his school or his home after having drawn almost two hundred dollars out of his account earlier in the week?”
“I monitor Guy’s transactions and he doesn’t touch his money that often,” I counter but she smiles.
“I’m not talking about his debit card account with Texas National, I’m talking about the private savings account with First Convenience,” Detective Escalante says destroying everything I thought I knew,” I’m going to guess no councilor. We’re going to get a blood work done and we’re searching his personal bag and clothes as they are part of a potential murder investigation.”
“Why would someone want to murder my son,” Loretta asks hurt and almost destroyed.
“By my estimation he was involved in some sort of a drug buy and they decided to take the money and run. I’ll be back with more questions when I have all the evidence,” Detective Escalante ends our conversation on that note and leaves us to our parental misery.
While Loretta prays for Guy I sit back and think about what I’ve seen in the past four to five years. Guy was always quiet, he socialized with my children early on, and then he stopped. He inexplicably stopped, Loretta and I spoke about birthdays at one point and I remember her saying that she wanted him to have a car so he could be more independent but why didn’t we get him one? And I remember when he told me he wanted to move in with his father, I didn’t like seeing him hurt but the only thing I could think of was to put money and praise in front of him. I don’t remember him visiting friends, he has always been the quiet one of all my children and I do think of him as my child too. What does he think of me? What does he think of his mother? Loretta is beside herself with grief but I need answers. Guy is a shy and when I met him scared boy, he’s not an addict and he’s certainly not a whipping boy. My children wouldn’t allow that to happen.
Our wait goes till the late evening when the doctor returns from surgery and gives us some good news for a change, Guy will live. The wound was serious but they we able to ensure that no major organs were damaged irreparably, just a lot of blood loss with a beating to preceded it. We are shown to Guy’s room by a nurse and that is where I watch my wife’s heart break. He has bandages wrapped around his head, a pad taped over his eye, multiple smaller bandages on his face neck and arms, his right wrist is in a brace waiting for a cast and he’s pale. The boy never had a great deal of color but he’s so much paler now. I hold Loretta as she cries into my shoulder and can’t imagine how this happened. I’m told that visiting hours are long over and that we’ll need to leave so that the patient can be allowed to rest. They have him heavily sedated and they want us to leave, I tell Loretta to have a seat while I step out and make a personal call.
A half hour later I am informed that my wife will not be forced to leave since she’s his only available blood relative and that the hospital is sorry for the misunderstanding. Loretta knows nothing as watch her sit and stare at her baby boy. I can hear her singing softly to him as she holds his good hand and I make a couple of startling conclusions that leave me with questions I know I won’t like the answers to. Loretta isn’t going anywhere and I tell her I need to return home to check on the children. She nods which is the most responsive she’s been since we got the call and I leave to return to my children.
It’s a quiet drive and I am, as always, in control of my emotions and the vehicle as losing my temper now does me no good. I pull in front of my home and barely get in the door when Bethany comes running from the TV room.
“Dad where is mom,” my social twin daughter asks.
“She’s still at the hospital, I’ll be returning there for her in a little while,” I inform her heading to my office.
“Is Mom okay,” Beth asks concerned.
“No, your mother is not okay. She’s very hurt right now. Go get your brother and sister and all of you come to my office,” I tell her but she freezes.
“Dad I think they’re both asleep,” my daughter is afraid, fear accentuates guilt maybe.
“Get your brother and sister…. Now,” I use my cold office voice and watch my daughter shiver at my words.
She leaves to do what I told her as I unlock my office and remove the two guest chairs for people who need to discuss business privately. Physical labor doesn’t help me any as I’m struggling to keep from losing my composure as I remember a scared boy who is now a broken young man. My children return with more awareness than a recently woken person should have, Beth warned them about my mood. Good, it will help.
“Mark, Bethany, Abigail. Your mother is at the hospital right now. I’m going to try to convince her to come back tonight but I don’t think she will,” I begin and Bethany is quick to speak.
“Dad, Mom and I have plans tomorrow,” she says and my look says my response for me but I will make this redundant.
“You had plans tomorrow; those have been cancelled by me because I love my family. I love every member of my family and I have been a very poor parent,” I say the words, it hurts but it is the truth.
“Dad you are not a bad father,” Abigail, my jewel of a daughter, informs me sadly.
“I was asked questions tonight that I have no answer to, so let me see if I can garner some knowledge from my children,” I look up to them and they look eager to help,” Who are Guy’s friends?”
“What,” my namesake decides to answer in his confused tone.
“It’s a simple question, who is Guy’s friends,” I ask again and now I see fear, not nervousness, fear.
“We don’t know,” Mark answers and the girls keep quiet.
“Abigail, Bethany, you’re all in the same grade. Who does your brother hang around with,” I ask holding onto my patience like a life raft on the ocean.
“He doesn’t hang out with anyone really, he’s kind of a los… loner,” Bethany answers quietly.
“So you don’t know if he has any friends or he doesn’t have friends,” I ask and the second option has Abigail staring at her feet,” Okay, so here’s another question. Who has been physically beating Guy the past few years?”
“Beating, Dad we don’t do anything to him,” Bethany says in her defense but it says more about her intent.
“So nobody has done anything to Guy in the past four years or so? Nobody touched him, nobody hurt him, nobody saw him with friends, and nobody knows what he was doing this afternoon? Nobody knows anything,” I ask and see shame, fear and confusion.
“Dad where’s Guy,” Mark asks showing his use of cranial grey matter.
“It’s good that you asked that but I need to know who has been abusing your brother, my stepson and your Mother’s baby boy but you can’t seem to answer those questions. Let me ask an easier question children,” I start but Abigail stops me.
“One of the local groups, kind of a gang, beats him up about once every two weeks or less. He’s reported them before but nobody said who did it so he just stopped. They’ve tried to call the house and have left messages but I don’t know what happened to them. He doesn’t go to any clubs or try to do any sports because we’re there,” my special girl informs me angry now and ashamed.
“Does he hate us,” I ask concerned.
“He should,” Abigail whispers,” We never help him. I don’t even talk to him at school and I should.”
“I need an explanation,” I say looking to Mark,” You are the oldest. You are bigger, stronger and have a commanding presence that will make anyone back down from you and has kept a bad element away from your sisters, correct?”
“Yeah dad,” Mark answer quickly but confused.
“Then explain to me why for almost four years your brother has been allowed to be the punching bag for a group of thugs,” I ask and get silence,” Never mind, Abigail?”
“Yes,” she is still angry but not with me.
“Can you explain to me why you never in the entirety of your high school career up till this point ever acknowledged the pain and suffering to your brother,” I ask and she bows her head.
“Because I was stupid,” my brightest child informs me head hung low.
“Our name, our family is one that is respected. Your friends and their parents value our time and our company for many reasons not including our wealth and charity. People at your school KNOW that I am very harsh on anyone who unjustly attacks my children in any way for any reason. How did they think they could do this to us, to our family,” I ask and finally Bethany decides to answer, with pride.
“Because Guy isn’t family,” I hear her say the words but don’t fully comprehend their meaning,” He’s never been a part of our family, he was quiet and a freak when Mom brought him here and I made sure he knew his place years ago.”
“Knew his place,” I ask regaining my composure.
“I told him we didn’t want him Daddy because we didn’t. Mark didn’t need a little brother who was quiet and creepy and neither did Abigail. You only brought him here because you love Mom. I told him that he wasn’t one of us and that he wasn’t to interfere with our lives while he was living here,” Beth explains as I sit on the edge of my desk in shock,” Besides this isn’t about Guy it’s about Mom, is she alright?”
My daughter seems to be proud of herself as she tells me about what happened during my honeymoon with Loretta and how she ensured that Guy would ‘learn his place’. I think at all the times he told me and his mother he didn’t want to come or more aptly when Bethany told me he didn’t want to go. After a while I stopped asking hoping he’d come to me when he was ready, how wrong I was on that thought.
“Dad where is mom,” Bethany asks again and I harden my resolve.
“She’s not your mother, your mother was taken from us by a drunk driver years ago Bethany. Loretta is your Step mother and she might not be that for much longer. You did what you thought would be easiest for you and your siblings and either strong armed them, bribed or lied to them along the way to make it happen. You blinded me and Loretta to what was happening to Guy for the past few years when he needed this family more than anything else in the world. You took a scared boy who wanted a home and family and you poisoned him,” I have left the desk and made my way over to my children who are fearful in my presence,” Your Step Mother Loretta is with Guy in the hospital, he was stabbed earlier today half way across town and left to die in an alley. My wife is with her child and losing her mind because my children decided it was alright for them to make him suffer.”
“Dad I didn’t know she was doing this,” my son attempts to plead his case but I’m not interested in mercy pleas at the moment.
“Neither did I, now what I’m going to do is figure out how to fix almost four years of damage my children have done to an innocent boy who is now a young man and pray that the woman I love doesn’t leave me because my children are monsters,” I say the words and move behind my desk to begin my planning,” Why are you three still here? Leave.”
Slowly my children file out of my office and leave me to my thoughts which sadly aren’t very good ones. Bethany masterminded it but I would have hoped Abigail would have been stronger or Mark would have been a bit wiser to see what they were doing to Guy. I’ll need to build a case if Guy was involved in something horrible but more than that I need to tell Loretta the truth about what has been going on and after that I need to bring the winds of change.
Guy
When you are dead you don’t have shit to worry about. No obligations and no pressures of life. I didn’t have many of these before I died but it’s nice to know they aren’t coming in the future. I open my eye, I can only see out the left one, and note a white room with a small curtain around the bed that has been pulled back to let a little light in from the outside. First thing I realize is I’m not dead, well fuck that ruins that idea. Second I can tell they decided I’m really worth saving since they have the big white machine that goes ‘ping’ sounding off next to me. It’s really not very subtle and now it’s drawn attention from a nurse or some woman in those clothes you always see on the medical shows. She is going over everything on a clipboard and wants to make sure I’m comfortable. I’m in a bed with tubes sticking out of my arm and nose, I try to say I’m fucking peachy but my throat is dry as hell and hurts. I motion to my mouth and watch the nurse lady leave quickly and return with a small plastic cup of water and a straw. A couple sips and I’m ready to take on the world. Not really as a doctor comes in to inform me that the doctor, a different one, who is in charge of my care and will be able to speak with me after I get some rest. I’ve been resting for I don’t know how long but a needle goes into a tube and then everything fades out.
I’m awake again this time it’s too bright as someone pulled the blinds back on the window and I’m being hit with sunshine right in my face. I shift and groan when I hear someone talking.
“He’s waking up,” I know the voice, yay mom is here,” Honey are you alright? Can you hear me?”
“Kinda hard not to,” I remark and crack open my eye a little to see her.
She looks like she’s been drinking and hung over again, her hair isn’t done or at least not very well, her clothes aren’t the fashionable wife of a high powered lawyer and her makeup is nowhere to be found. Mostly she looks a little happy and a more than a little sad all at once. I look around the room a little, we’re alone which is a minor blessing as I really don’t want to speak with or deal with anyone.
“How are you feeling honey,” Mom asks and I shrug,” The rest of the family is at home but I’ll call them, they’re going to be happy to hear you woke up.”
“Who’s family are we talking about,” I ask not as confused as I might sound before trying to reach for water and see a cast on my hand,” Well that’s wonderful.”
“Guy you had me so worried, I thought I lost you,” Mom says and I look at her skeptical.
“Worried, this worried you,” I ask and she doesn’t catch my meaning.
“Of course honey, you’re my baby boy and I love you,” Mom says the words and I hear the machine next to me begin to sound off fast.
I don’t say anything about the absurdity of her words mostly because the nurse comes in the room quickly and ushers her out telling her I need to calm down. Once she’s gone I try to make demands and explain that I don’t want any visitors but a needle in the tube connected to my arm cause everything to go fuzzy and I drift back to sleep.
Waking up from meds is like waking up from being knocked out only your body doesn’t want to get moving. I’m moving around only find that my arms are secured to the bed and when I begin to struggle a nurse comes in my room quickly to gain control of my situation.
“Easy, we had to restrain you for your safety. You almost pulled a stitch earlier when your mother was here,” she’s trying to calm me down but I want to get the hell out.
I see the nurse come in and there is a needle in her hand and now I’m panicking. She calmly takes my tube in her hands and I glare at her. She sees my face and calmly pushes the fluid into the tube and into my arm. I fight it, it’s hard to do and I fail but I fight it as I burn a fucking hole through her before blacking out.
Third time’s the charm right? I hope so as I slowly wake up and do a quick check to find that I am still stuck in bed with my hand and now apparently my feet locked down by straps. I lay there with my one eye open and wait for a moment and sure enough here comes the nurse.
“Are we calmed down or do we need another shot,” she asks but I don’t answer,” the monitor in the nurses stationed told me you had woken up so faking sleep isn’t going to make this go any quicker. Are you feeling more relaxed?”
I don’t answer her; I keep to lying on my back and staring at the ceiling as she does her checkup. I don’t care why she’s here I just lay there waiting for her to finally leave.
“Guy we can remove the restraints when you have calmed down and won’t do anything that would harm yourself but you need to calm down,” She tells me and I still don’t move but my heart is racing,” okay well I’ll leave you here and check back on you in a couple hours if you’re still awake.”
I’ve been here for a day or so and already I just want to pack a bag and leave. To hell with home, high school or anything else just let me pack a bag and get the hell away from everyone. I think about where I would go or what I’d do. Maybe somewhere remote like Alaska or Maine, hell why not leave the country and just end up somewhere in Europe. I plan and plot till I fall asleep and wake up still stuck in bed only now there is a sun shining.
“Good Morning Mr. Donnelly,” I hear the voice and look to see a female in a suit,” My name is Detective Escalante, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”
“Whatever, not like I can stop you,” I remark noting my position.
“Mr. Donnelly what were you doing in the alley off Westbrook and 43rd at five in the afternoon,” the detective asks and I figure I’ll tell her.
“I was walking to the bus stop,” I reply and she grimaces a little at me.
“Mr. Donnelly where were you before the bus stop,” the detective asks.
“Someone was helping me with my education, I had just left their place,” I keep some details to myself.
“Mr. Donnelly do you remember anything about the attack? Do you have any information about the people who attacked you,” she asks and I figure I can answer this question.
“Three people I think, Mexican by the amount of Spanish they spoke. The only one I could have got a good look at was the one that stabbed me but they had on a mask and a baseball cap,” I tell her and she writes the information down.
“Have you ever been involved in any gang activity or had dealings with any gangs in the past,” she asks and I chuckle.
“Aside from getting my ass kicked by the one at my school not really,” I joke and she frowns.
“Mr. Donnelly we have no real information to go on other than your testimony and unfortunately there are no details other than basic forensics with shows you would not have been able to do this to yourself and that you attempted to protect yourself from your attackers. Are you leaving anything out of your statement,” I think and one thing comes to me.
“The one that stabbed me, they used my phone to call 9-1-1,” I tell her and she sighs loudly.
“Only your fingerprints were recovered from your phone. Unfortunately I was hoping you’d be able to give us something to work with in this investigation,” she says before turning to leave.
“It doesn’t matter, even if you do find them it won’t do any good,” I tell her getting a confused look.
“What makes you say that,” She asks and I return my gaze to the ceiling.
“Because you’ll find out that I don’t really matter and eventually the case will get put on the shelf and fade into the back of your mind with bad memories and broken dreams,” I say wishing I could write that down.
I hear the detective leave and it sounds like she’s speaking with someone outside my room for a moment before I get a doctor to come check in with me.
“Good afternoon Mr. Donnelly, are we feeling well enough for me to remove the restraints today,” the Asian doctor asks and I shift a little.
“What does it matter, you and the nurse out there keep drugging me up so that I don’t know what day it is,” I state firmly.
“We sedated you so that you,” he gets the words out but I cut him off.
“I wouldn’t move and pop a stitch or hurt myself. I heard that before and still don’t care. When can I be released,” I ask and he frowns.
“Well we’d need to make sure you’re out of the woods, your surgery is healing nicely,” He checks the stab area under my gown,” and most of the bruising has healed as well. That eye however is taking a little longer in the healing.”
I let him check me out and when he pulls the pad off my eye it’s bright and feels gruesome but he smiles and replaces it.
“I’d say a couple more days and you’ll be back home for bed rest and then back to school, it’s been a tough two weeks,” I hear the words and my machine begins to freak out.
“Two weeks? I’ve been here for two weeks,” I begin to freak out,” Let me out of here.”
Yep the needle comes out but this time I’m not knocked out, I just feel really lazy and dopey. He is still talking to me about feelers and droppings. I don’t know what it is he’s actually saying but I stare out the window and see a tree, it’s a pretty tree with browns and oranges. I like oranges, they’re sweet and tangy. Tangy is a funny word, it should be a sound not a taste. I blink and realize the tree is still a tree but it’s less colorful now and my face is being wiped by Mother since I’ve been drooling.
“They shouldn’t be giving him anything hard, he’s a very sensitive boy when it comes to medication,” I hear her talking but it’s not to me,” the doctor said he started to lose control when he found out how long he’s been here.”
“I thought not seeing out of his eye or the cast would have done that,” I hear a girl’s voice, Abigail maybe,” Mom when he comes around what do we do?”
“We love him like we always have only we do better, I do better,” she says and I gurgle something.
I get sat up a little and can move my arms around, no restraints. Mom and Abigail are hovering around when I finally get full range of my senses.
“Go away,” I get the words out as calm as I can.
“Guy I know what’s been happening, I know what Bethany did and we’re all sorry,” Mom says and I shake my head.
“And that matters? I don’t care, I don’t care about what she did and I don’t care about how sorry you are. Just leave me alone,” I tell them but like everything else they don’t listen.
“Guy I’m sorry, I should have done something or said something. I should have been a better anything towards you. My only excuse is that Beth is my twin but I should have told them what happened years ago,” Abigail starts and I stop her.
“I really don’t care, can’t you understand that. I don’t care that you and your family didn’t want me. I don’t care that my mother sat around and let you and your family do whatever you wanted to me and turned a blind eye, I’ve been in her blind spot since I was born,” I get the words out and Mom is quick to say something.
“You are my son I have always loved you and wanted only the best for you,” Mom gets the words out and I decide to end the conversation.
The look of total bullshit must be all over my face because both Abigail and Mom are staring at me like I’m about to lose my mind. It’s like I’ve known for years, I talk but they don’t hear me. Abigail shows me my past due homework she’s been collecting and offers to help me with it. Mom sits and tries to talk about how the ‘family’ is doing at home and that they are excited to see me come home. I don’t respond with many words, just non committal grunts and shrugs. A woman shows up and asks Mom and Abigail to step out for a moment so that we can talk privately. I have no clue who the wide and older black woman is but she pulls up a chair anyway.
“Hello Guy, I’m Doctor Hill. I’m here to check in and see how you’re doing,” the new doctor says and I feel like I’m being probed, not physically thank god.
“I’m doing pretty freaking fantastic Doc, I was worried there for a while but after the drugging and being restrained to a bed I have the support of someone else’s family to make sure that I know just how fucked up things are,” I decide to pour on some sarcasm to get the point across.
“Well at least you are still showing good mental acuity and can recognize the situations around you. I am one of the resident psychologists her at the hospital and after reviewing your case I informed them that restraints and drugs were inadvisable given your history,” she says and I give her a skeptical look.
“Wonderful, so when can I leave,” I ask and she looks at her watch.
“Anytime you want provided you can walk on your own,” she says the words and I sit up a bit then stop with more than a little discomfort,” You ready to go?”
“Yeah just let me get my feet under me,” I tell her and she moves back from my bed.
I dangle my feet over the edge and feel them hit the cold floor but the second I attempt to stand I’m in a world of hurt and pull myself back into bed.
“Didn’t work out too well? You’ve been on bed rest for a day over two weeks now, the stab wound you suffered is mostly healed however you were beaten pretty badly. I am here at the request of your step father to help him find out where you are at,” she says the words and then sees my face,” Psychologically, not physically that answer is easy.”
“Yay you, you can read my mind. So where am I,” I ask leaning back on the bed.
“In pain, it’s not an unfixable situation but it’s up to you whether or not you want to fix it,” she says and I shrug,” that would be the biggest problem right there. You don’t seem to believe that you have any problems.”
“I have plenty of problems; my problems even have names and faces. I just accepted the fact that no matter what I attempt to do I won’t be able to stop them,” I state holding my ground,” What I will not accept is a lie.”
“What lie is it you are speaking of? The denial of your existence to the outside? The question as to whether or not your mother loves you or the fact that you feel betrayed by your father,” She says the last part and now I’m angry.
“Get the fuck out,” I growl and she looks unamused.
“No, I am paid to be here by your step father, not by you and if you haven’t noticed yet nobody is coming in here to drug you so you can get away from me. I know almost everything that has happened in your life from everyone’s point of view except yours. You had a lot of bad things pile up in your life and it took a major catalyst to cause everyone to look at you and realize what they did. Now there is a family, one that should have been there since the beginning that wants to bring you where you should have been. I want to help facilitate that as best I can,” Dr. Hill states my situation in her mind and her agenda.
“Good luck,” my only words to add to her plans as I lean back and stare at the far wall.
She talks to me, I sit and say nothing. She calls me on my childish behavior, I continue to sit and stare while saying nothing. Finally she asks me what I want and I take a deep breath before continuing my vigil of nothing. I must have taken an hour for her to finally give up and leave except she made sure to add that she’d be back tomorrow. Mom and Abigail return to the room with sodas for them but not for me. I get brought juice by the nurse who drugged me and sit as Abby catches me up on my class assignments. She brought me a bag with some school supplies but none that are mine. I sit and work for a while with Mother content to quietly watch us from the side of my bed as I get through three work packets in two hours. Abby finally stops and takes the items back before giving me a smile and leaving the room. Now I’m alone with mother and she wants to talk.
“I am a bad parent, I’ve been a bad parent for a long time,” she tells me quietly and I shrug.
“You won’t believe me but I’ll say it anyway, I don’t care. What has happened has happened and now I move on,” I tell her and she places her hand on my cast.
“I want you to talk to me about it, all of it. I won’t force you but I want to hear it. Scream at me, call me names, hurt me but I want to hear it,” Mom says before standing up,” I have to get dinner ready for the family but I’ll be back early tomorrow. We can get a wheel chair and some food if you like.”
That’s how the third and only fully conscious week of my stay in the hospital went. Mom would come and spend part of the morning and part of the afternoon with me, Abby would come in the afternoon and bring some of my easier to get through school work with her. When they were gone Dr. Hill would come in and try to talk to me, have me open up about things that have happened or I’d be with a physical therapist working on walking again. I don’t exactly need one mind you but I have this desire to not stand up straight or put one foot in front of the other without blinding pain and the random guy they have who shit talks me when I’m struggling helps. I finally get released from the hospital and taken back to home by Mr. Delauter and Mom. I still have the patch on my eye but I can see out of it and the cast on my arm but for the most part I’m healed. I took my seat riding in the back alone and for a while nobody is talking till I think it and suddenly the switch in Mom’s brain goes off.
“We cleaned up your room a little, Mark insisted he go through it first for ‘just cause’ reasons. We didn’t throw anything out either, it’s just cleaner but I did move a chair into the room,” Mom informs me as Mr. Delauter adds to it.
“I bought a chair and she wanted it in your room,” He says clarifying.
“Yes so that when I’m up there, or someone is up there they have a place to sit,” Mom finishes her update on my room.
“Doesn’t matter, I’ll be out of the house by January,” I say the words for the first time out loud and I can tell it causes them both to think for a moment.
“We spoke with your councilor at school, we can’t change your class times and schedules anymore since you are technically an adult now but we’d like you to consider not rushing your classes and attending your graduation,” my step father says almost formally making the request.
“Things are going to be different from now on honey,” Mom says and I shrug but she can’t see it.
“If you break a dish and apologize to it does it fix the dish,” I ask and again they are silent for a moment.
“No, you get glue, you take time and you put the pieces back together one by one till it’s whole again,” Mom says being overly optimistic,” Besides it’s Halloween this week. We are having a party at the house; Bethany is hosting it and wanted to make it a welcome home party for you and your friends.”
“My friends,” I ask and another quiet moment.
I knew the campaign to ‘make things better’ would not stop until I am walking out the door but Bethany planning a party for me? I don’t know who grounded her into this idea but I’m really not interested in the least. The car is parked and I’m walking at half speed up the stairs and into the house. I’m not five steps in the door and my step siblings are coming out to greet me. They smile but the smiles are nervous and in Bethany’s case almost forced. I walk past them, say hi to Rosa, and take the stairs up to my room. I don’t have my clothes from the incident three weeks prior, hospital policy states that if there is blood on them they have to be disposed of as a biological hazard. I liked those jeans. I don’t have a lot of speed to my gait but I’m not super slow as I get out of the sweats and t shirt that mom brought me from home and into camo pattern cargo pants and a green shirt. I do something next that I don’t normally do, I get onto social media. I have a Facebook page in the same way that someone has a pet rock. I know it’s there, I see it, every once in a while I look at it for a bit then I put it away and wait a few weeks. My logging on has me prompted a password which is easy then it loads and I’m seeing friend requests and messages. I don’t mean two or three people have tried to add me as friends, one hundred and fifteen friend requests. I spend a minute looking at the names and aside from Abigail, Bethany, and Mark there isn’t anyone I really know. I don’t accept or reject the requests either; I simply put them in limbo and check the thirty something messages. The first message I find is from Sydney, she wants to talk and hopes I’ll get back to her, I don’t bother to reply. Then I run into the message wall of ‘Dude I had no idea you were their brother’ and ‘How did you keep that a secret’ to the popular ‘We should hang out and get to know each other better’ and finally I find one that has me pause. I read the title of the message and then I reread it… ‘It wasn’t us’.
-Listen hermano, things happened between you and my people at school but this wasn’t us. Take some time out to heal and be a man about it. You have problems come face me and we’ll work it out. C-
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Carlos is trying to save his boy’s skin after the shit they have been doing towards me for the past three plus years. I’d be worried about a message like this before I got ambushed, I didn’t like the beatings, but now I just can’t find the despair or anger or even shame that I had when I think about it. I could forward this to the Detective; instead I leave the message where it is. I have an hour to kill when I get a knock on my door before Mr. D sticks his head in.
“Hey Guy dinner’s ready,” he tells me and I nod before turning back to my computer,” Did you want us to bring the plate to you?”
“No I’ll get some later,” I remark even though I’m hungry.
“Would you please come down and sit with us,” he asks and I turn to look at him.
“No, and it’s not because I’m making a statement or I’m mad at the whole group of you. I just don’t feel like going through the motions of trying,” I explain turning back to my computer.
“Guy you’re not the only one trying here. All of us, especially your mother and I are trying to bring you back where you should have been when we first got married. You were looking at us to fix everything and we broke you. I am ashamed for my part in that,” He says and I finally turn and stand to face him.
“You’re ashamed? You’re the greatest father and husband that walked the planet from where I stand. You built all this for your wife and children, then your wife dies. You didn’t break down, you got out there and somehow you met my Mother and the biggest miracle of all you got her to stop drinking and partying. You brought her into your home and your children saw how happy she made you and they loved her for it. I’d say you deserve a Nobel Prize or something,” I explain and he’s taking it in what I’m saying but he doesn’t understand all of it.
“I didn’t think you would think that way about me,” he gets the words out and I give him the second half.
“That’s because I’m not in your family, I’m the tag along. I’ve been the extra baggage since I was nine; it just took you marrying Mom for me to realize that. Your family
helped it but I’m the extra piece you don’t really need,” it hurts a little but I’ve known this for the past two years.
“Guy you are not extra baggage,” he tries to stop me but I have to Simple Simon this.
“I was her son, the one time she actually did something with that when I was growing up she went to court and took me away from my father. After that I woke her up for work and took care of her and me for over four years. Then you come along with the poster family and all of sudden she stops everything. No drinking, no partying, no bars. Instead she is going out with you and meeting your family and the whole time I’m sitting at home wondering what’s going on. And when do I meet your perfect fucking family? After you proposed to her. They knew her for months while I sat in our apartment,” I tell him feeling more agitated and upset.
“Guy, we didn’t know,” he says and I step forward.
“Nobody knew because nobody gave a shit. The worst part is for years I wanted her to clean up and be my mom, I only got half that. She cleaned up and became a Mom for you and your kids. She didn’t even know I existed from the time of the divorce till three weeks ago. Now you want to tell me that I’m a valued part of this family? That I’ve always belonged here? Go lie to your clients but stop lying to me. You don’t care, she doesn’t care, and your children don’t care times ten. Congratulations cause I’ve said it a hundred times and I’ll say it again. I… DON’T… CARE,” I get it all out and feel hurt, physically and emotionally.
The truth hurts; it doesn’t just hurt who you tell it to either. It hurts everyone. I don’t know how much my voice carried to the downstairs but watching Mr. Delauter face turn from hope to shame in a matter of minutes at best isn’t something I wanted to do. I watch the man turn and close the door to my room before probably returning to the kitchen and dining room for dinner with his family. There is a part of me that feels like I should apologize but analyzing how I feel and what I said causes me to reach the decision not to. I didn’t cause this and I never wanted it. I actually wonder if dying three weeks ago would have been a better ending for my life than to drag on with everyone trying to relieve their guilt over what they did or didn’t do. I can’t figure out what I want to do, lifting weights or running is out since they want me to wait a bit longer before taking on strenuous activity. I don’t even own a game system nor have any games on my computer and every book I have, all fifteen of them, I’ve read at least three times. I settle for calming myself down after my emotional outburst with my Stepfather and lay down on my bed to do just that. It could have been five minutes or an hour, I’m not sure how long but my door comes open as if it wasn’t my room and Abigail walks in with me on her mind.
“Okay time for you to get off your bed and come downstairs,” she informs me and I look at her from my pillow.
Loose knit sweater and sweat pants are the comfort choice this evening for Abby. Add to that her glasses and near black but still brown hair is in a braid or ponytail where I can’t see it. Biggest thing I notice is the look on her face, never seen her upset or determined before.
“I just had this conversation with your father,” I get the words out as she moves over to the side of the bed and grabs my good wrist to help me up,” Don’t do that.”
“You have no choice, you come down stairs with me and we sit like it should have been and you let us try to make this happen. You don’t think it’s legitimate fine but you believe in justice and the scales are going to be hanging in your favor with all of this for a while especially with me,” I pause a her words sitting up to face her.
“Especially with you? I am curious how the one who just went along and didn’t actually do anything is worst about the whole thing,” I ask and she sits down in my computer chair to talk address me.
“Because I wanted to know you and I didn’t do anything when I knew I should have. It was Edmund Burke who said that ‘Evil will triumph when good people do nothing’. I let Bethany lie and get her way and she promised me things and delivered on all of them but I knew I was wrong. In her mind she was doing what was best for all of us and to hell with you but I thought you’d be good for the family,” Abby tells me and I wonder at her reasoning.
“How in the world would I be good for the perfect family? What could I have added to this household that you didn’t have,” I ask not enjoying the conversation round two.
“How about some appreciation? Appreciation for the things we have when you didn’t have that growing up. Or what about your decent nature, something my sister is almost completely without. You have been given nothing and yet anytime you had something handed to you here you treated it better than anything any of us ever got. We broke something or lost something we just asked and it was replaced, you valued it and took care of it like it was the last one. You never looked down on someone because they weren’t up to your standards because you don’t have standards. You treat people like people and let their actions decide what to you do to deal with them,” she explains and I shrug.
“Then take your do nothing ass and depart,” I point to the door and she shakes me off.
“No, I have been told how to treat you by my sister for years. I know how I should have acted and I know it isn’t a lost cause to try to be here with you,” Abby informs me and I am curious about this statement.
“How do you think it’s not a lost cause,” I ask and she smiles a little.
“Cause you are still alive,” I hear the words and it gives me pause,” You keep saying you don’t care, the dead don’t care and you aren’t dead. Damaged, abused and neglected yes, our entire fault but not dead. Dead we can’t help with, I can’t help with it. But you’re alive and that we can fix, it will take time and we have that.”
“A rousing speech and you have some logic to it but,” I start and she stops me.
“No buts, you come down stairs and let us do our part. It’s late, very late, but not too late since you’re still here,” Abby says it and I pause for a moment,” I mean if you wanted you could leave right now and be gone. You have the option so if our family is so bad why not just leave?”
And she has me nailed on that mostly, I want to finish high school but I could do that anywhere. I stayed because it’s easy, honest truth. I figured I could do my work and coast along then once I’m out the challenge begins doing everything on my own without the ‘Delauter safety net’. She is pulling at my arm again to get me to stand up and I follow, unenthusiastically, but I follow. They haven’t even started eating from what I can tell, they were dishing up and now Mom and Mr. Delauter are talking in his office while Mark and Bethany sit in the TV room and debate whatever they would debate about. Abigail has me take a seat with her and leaves to get the rest of the family. I can hear her from the dining room tell them that ‘it’s dinner’ and they say ‘we’re not eating yet’ before she counters with ‘Guy’s at the table waiting’. Apparently that was enough to get Mom and Mr. Delauter to leave his office and call the rest of the family. Mom and Bethany dish the food, spaghetti and garlic bread, while Rosa serves. I’m not first to be served but Rosa stops and places her hand on my shoulder for a moment and I feel a little better that I can tell someone really cares. We sit, we eat and for the most part they talk but it’s strained. They want to talk to me but they don’t or they don’t know what to say considering none of them, most especially Mom, really know anything about me. I actually think Abigail is going to be the first to try to break the ice when Mark opens his mouth.
“So how long till you’re back to normal,” Mark asks and the levels that I could answer this question are more than he could imagine.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be normal,” it’s all I can do to let him in on how different I feel.
“I think he was talking about now that you’re out of the hospital honey,” Mom says trying to help.
“Yeah, let’s just say I’ll be taking it slow for a while,” I keep it physical for the most part.
Awkward, definitely but I don’t have anything to say to anyone in this alleged ‘family’. Not out of spite I just don’t feel remotely close to them. I am being watched to see if I’m going to snap but its Mr. D that is keeping an eye on me more than anyone. After my words to him I don’t know if he and Mom talked but I’m guessing she’s going to find out at some point and then this becomes even more awkward. Dinner finished and I feel physically better and tired, spend three weeks doing nothing and you’d feel tired eating a real meal and dealing with potential emotional dumping from all comers. I get back to my room and lay down for bed, we’re looking at a weekend then school week which I don’t know if I’m going and finally the Halloween Party that Bethany is trying to plan for me as some form of repayment for being a complete cunt. I don’t think I’ll attend the party when I think about everything; it’s actually not for me. I don’t know the people nor do they know me, the most probable thing is that she invited a small army of her popular friends and they are going to make me feel welcome into the upper echelon of high school. Good luck assholes. I get dressed for bed which allows me to wear shorts for the first time in three weeks really; they had me peeing in a tube for fuck’s sake. I drift off to sleep forgetting to take a pain pill since I’m not in pain.
Something wakes me up in the middle of the night, okay it’s ten and I went to bed early but I’m woken regardless as I hear breathing. I look around and see that my door is closing and someone is moving in my room in the dark.
“What are you doing,” I ask my intruder.
“Coming in to check on you, Mom was worried so I volunteered to make sure everything was fine while you sleep,” Abigail informs me taking a seat in the big chair Mom put in my room.
“You do realize it’s creepy that you want to watch me sleep,” I tell her and she shakes her head.
“No different than when we were doing it at the hospital. Thinking about it now it’s less creepy here than at the hospital,” Abby says smiling,” There you had less clothes on.”
“Well I’m alive and not going anywhere for a few months at least so you can head back to your room,” I tell Abigail before rolling onto my right side, the one that didn’t have a stab wound on it, and attempt to sleep again.
I don’t drift off right away as I can hear Abigail shifting in the chair for a little bit before silence or sleep takes over. Well it takes over for what feels like the blink of an eye before I feel Abigail crawling into bed and under the blankets. Now I’m wearing shorts, not underwear, just shorts and here is Abigail in sweat pants and a t shirt. I know riveting stuff. Problem is I’m a guy and there is a female, technically step sister in my bed curled up with her back to me. I can see her in the dark breathing, I can smell her shampoo, and I could in theory move closer. I quickly decide against anything and try to get some sleep.
I don’t know what woke me first but I’m pretty sure it was the new pain in my lower abdomen or groin region known as the penis. Somehow in the middle of the night while we were sleeping I either moved up to Abby’s back and her back side or she backed up to me and now my erection is poking me in the gut a little and her in the ass a lot. I try to shift but that doesn’t have the effect that I’m looking for, it just makes it harder… I mean difficult. The second thing I notice is that my arm is around her chest and under her breasts. Her d cups are resting happily against my arm and when Abby shifts against me it’s a little painful but the good kind as my hard on is forced against her. It takes me moment or two to come up with a plan to detach my limb from her chest, okay not a plan as much as motivation to move my left arm. I slowly pull my arm out getting my hand under her breast and almost free when Abby’s own arm comes to life and grabbing my hand puts it firmly on top of her shirt covered tit.
“You have been grinding and groping me in your sleep for a while now, it woke me up,” Abby informs me reaching back and putting her hand down my shorts,” Now I’m going to get my turn. Don’t move.”
Abigail’s hand is cool to the touch or my cock is made of molten fire, either way I make some groaning noise when she takes hold of me and even more as she strokes me a little. Her hand is rubbing me in an awkward stroking but I don’t care because a female is rubbing my freaking penis. Uncontrollably I grind against her hand, which makes her bend awkward for her and she removes it only to try pulling down my shorts. I stop gripping her breast and ‘help’ her by pulling my shorts down and while I’m shifting around to get things in place Abigail is shifting too. Her hand comes back around and fumbles a little to take hold of me and from there she guides me between her thighs. Now I’m in a whole world if different sensations, her panties have been pulled aside so that I can get right next to her pussy which is warm and a little wet with my length rubbing inside the lips. Her panties are still mostly on in the front and are partially under my shaft which has a rough texture to it. With no warning Abby shifts against me rubbing herself on my shaft and I groan and with my hand find her tit again and squeeze a little. Abigail moans and I grunt a little as I give it back to her moving my own hips forward and rubbing myself against wet lips.
“Don’t put it in,” she moans as we begin pressing against each other a little harder.
I don’t know why she doesn’t want me to put it in but I’d like to, I think of excuses I could make but become distracted by the hard bump under my hand. Abby must really be horny and to be honest so am I. I feel her fingers from her free hand at the front of her pussy more than likely playing with herself as I speed up a little but make sure to follow her request of not putting it in, but I really want to. I keep rubbing against her fast and I’m pretty sure I’ll be alright physically when Abby’s face turns towards the pillow and I hear her squeaking as her body freezes in place. Ego boost and horny factor ten for me as I just made my step sister cum and I didn’t even put it in her. I’m still going even though she’s not moving, probably coming down from her orgasm, but I’m not going to last very long. I feel her warm wet lips on top of my shaft, her thighs squeezing to keep me in place, the fabric of her panties rubbing my underside. All of this I try to take in and end up blowing it all over who knows where as I keep myself as far ‘forward’ as I can and grip Abigail tight to me as my rush takes hold. We both come down and now it’s silent, not awkwardly silent, just neither of us knows what to do next. She’s trying to be a sister and failing at it by what we just did, thank you god. And I’m laying here trying to figure out how I’m going to leave this behind in a few months if this isn’t a onetime thing. After what seems like eternity Abby and I pull apart a little and I pull my shorts up as she probably fixes her own sweats and panties.
“You came in my panties,” Abby informs me and I give her an odd look as she rolls on her back.
“I did what,” I ask a little confused as she takes my hand and places it on her covered mound.
“You came in the front of my panties, there is a mess in my pants that you helped make,” I don’t know if she’s being funny or serious.
“Next time let me put it in,” I ask awkwardly.
“Maybe if you hang around I will,” Abby says and pulls herself from my bed,” I need to clean up and change my shorts. You get some sleep; Mom will probably be in tomorrow early to check on you.”
I watch her leave and notice the slightly awkward walk she has, it makes me smile a little and I haven’t had many reasons to smile recently. I lay back and think about what she said, possible sex from my step sister if I don’t walk out on the ‘family’ that wants me here. Well mostly wants me here as Bethany is still a cunt and can die a cunt. Maybe I should tell her to fuck me a couple times as make up for the shitty treatment, no that only happens in porn. I keep thinking about what everyone is going to do to show me how things will change, how things will be different. Guilt is causing this, it started with Mom and Mr. Delauter and it’s worked its way into their children. Would I feel bad if I left at January? I never thought about it, I just knew it’d be better for me to make a fresh start away from it all. Feelings, ones other than shame and embarrassment? This is something I need to get used to.