I’ve been with Jess for several hours - which I guess averages out to a half-hour or so total, She looks so bad. It’s hard to believe everything you’ve read and seen about how someone in a coma can hear. After the first time, though, I got used to talking to her. I’m not a patient anymore, and thank God I’m legal to sign myself out. Still haven’t seen my parents. It hurts to sit, so I stay on my feet.
Nate looked silently around the table. Libby was still here, but she would be going home soon, because Jonathan had come back, and Nate’s mom and Joey were here, and they just didn’t have the space to put up another person.
He stood, ignoring his mom’s gentle encouragement that he sit and join them. Cringing, Nate made some excuse about nervous energy. He didn’t think he’d feel comfortable sitting again. He picked at his food, realizing too late that he really couldn’t enjoy it now. His mom had gone to all this trouble to make him her homemade French fries - his favorite thing in the world - and Nate couldn’t eat them. Swallowing was near impossible, as his gag reflex was working overtime.
“Nate, do you want something else?”
Liam glanced up as Mrs. Barrett addressed her son. She had insisted he call her Amy, but he hadn’t felt right about it. He studied Nate’s body posture - how he stood beside his chair, one knee resting on the seat. How he refused to sit, or eat what was given to him. True, Libby was hardly eating either, but she had been molested. Now, she was like a zombie. She came to the table because he walked her there himself - she ate because he kept after her to do it. He forced himself to get used to the vacant look in her beautiful eyes, and the way she spoke. Her voice was thick, like she had a cold. His sister’s behavior made sense to him, while Nathaniel’s just seemed rude.
Liam watched as Joey disregarded his older brother’s shake of the head, and went to their refrigerator. He watched as this kid Libby’s age took care of his big brother, taking out peanut butter and the strawberry jelly that Liam knew Mrs. Barrett had made over the summer, and the half a loaf of white bread from the counter.
“Come on, Bethy,” Liam coaxed, eating a fry himself, and handing her one.
She took it wordlessly, and ate it without drowning it in ketchup as was her custom.
“Libby, are you doing all right over there?” Amy asked, studying the girl her oldest son spoke of often - referring to her as his best friend. This didn’t look anything like the girl she had seen in pictures. Her face was blank and her eyes looked lifeless.
“I’m fine,” Libby managed.
Amy nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m going to see if Jonathan needs anything.”
Nate closed his eyes briefly. Jonathan hadn’t left his room since coming home a few hours before. His face had a bad cut that looked really painful. It went from right next to his left eye down to his jaw line. He thought of how Jonathan was probably embarrassed. It was just the way Jonathan was. He put a lot of stock in physical appearance, so it made sense for him to hide now, at least until he got used to how he looked.
Joey walked up to his brother and dropped a paper plate in front of him. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich was the only thing Nate used to eat when he had a bad day at school or something upset him. Joey didn’t really get it, since he ate whatever was there twenty-four hours a day, but he wanted to do something for Nate, who was so nervous he couldn’t even sit down.
“What’s this?” Nate asked, though it was obvious.
Joey rolled his eyes. “It’s a present. Open it,” he crossed his arms expectantly and waited.
Obediently, Nate peeled back the top layer of bread, and stared at the brownish-red mess in the middle. He looked at Joey for an explanation. “What the hell is that?”
“A smiley face,” Joey insisted, gesturing at the open sandwich. “I made it with the jelly. It took forever, since it wasn’t the squeeze kind.”
Slowly, a smile crept over Nathaniel’s face, and he pulled his brother close. “You make those the same day you made the quiche?” he joked softly.
Joey just nodded, grateful beyond words that his brother was still here to hold onto. Then, he sat in Nate’s chair, while Nate remained standing beside it, leaning slightly against his brother and taking small bites of the sandwich.
Though Nate knew it had been made with love, the peanut butter stuck in his throat, and each time he tried to swallow, he fought the urge to gag.
“You don’t have to finish it,” Joey dismissed, taking Nathaniel’s sandwich and eating it himself in two large bites. He didn’t need Nate getting sick on top of everything else.
Joey nudged his brother aside, and stood up, taking his hand and leading through the sliding glass doors to the deck. Joey smirked. Nathaniel called this a balcony, but he always made things sound better than they were.
With the door shut behind them and the blinds effectively blocking everyone’s view of them, Joey wrapped his arms around Nate and held him. The weather was decent - the leaves changed color and were way cooler to look at up on Nate’s campus than they were at home - really bright. But Joey doubted Nate noticed. He was shaking, and Joey knew it had nothing to do with the cold.
“I’m sorry,” Joey said simply. He said it again and again, and wished that Nate would do something other than stand there with his arms at his sides.
Nate blinked, fighting back the tears that always seemed to be at the surface now. He hated that he couldn’t even bring himself to hug his brother back.
Joey felt the quiet heaving in Nate’s chest, and closed his eyes. “It’s okay.” He wanted Nate to believe it, and squeezed him tighter.
Sobs shook Nate, and he clung to the only person who knew some of the truth of what he had been through. “Don’t tell Mom,” he begged.
“I won’t,” Joey promised. He could feel Nate’s shaking get worse as they stood there.
In desperate whispers, Nate told Joey the words he’d heard - what had happened behind the desk. Nate was only going to say it once, and knew Joey would never tell a soul. Nate told him everything - the names he’d been called, how the guy had kissed him and put his hands all over him. He told Joey where the knife was, and how the guy grabbed him, kicked him, and threatened to kill him.
Joey just stood there and held on, knowing there was little else he could do. He didn’t ask if Nate had gone to the hospital, Joey knew he was terrified of them.
“If you need anything, call me. Anytime.” Joey said seriously, pushing Nate back so they could see each other.
“You got school,” Nate protested, running a hand over his face self-consciously.
Joey smiled. “So what? Call me anyway.”
“Phones are off at school.”
“Not mine,” Joey smirked. “So call. Or leave me texts. I’ll get back to you soon as I can.”
“Yeah,” Nate agreed. “Can we go in now? I’m freezing my ass off.”
“So that’s where it went,” Joey remarked, happy when Nate shoved him in the house, laughing.
Nate knew his mom and brother weren’t going to be able to stay too much longer. They wanted to stay the weekend, and Liam said he was fine with it, but Nathaniel sensed only politeness behind the offer, and Nate knew it would probably be best to get things back to the way they were.
Libby’s going home was a start, and Nate knew he would miss her. He also knew he wouldn’t sleep half as well as he had the previous night, without Joey asleep on his floor and his mom with him in the bed, her arm around him protectively. Even then he had dreamed of it. Felt a tongue in his mouth that wasn’t his, and woke up in horrible pain.
Joey hadn’t stirred - he slept like a log. But his mom had gotten up, and brought him aspirin and checked on Libby and Liam on her way back to his room. She even brought Libby back with her and let her sleep next to Joey on the floor. That was the way she was. Not just his mom - but around other kids who didn’t have theirs - his mom was theirs too.
Later on that afternoon, he told them they could go home. He knew Joey had some sports thing he would miss if he stayed. Nathaniel could never keep track of his brother’s sports, he played at least two each season. His mom had to get back to work.
So Nate hugged them both on their way out the door, reassuring them that he would call - he would be okay. He thanked them for being here and told them he loved them, and he shed a few tears - grateful that Liam was gone taking Libby back home to be with the girls, and Jonathan was still nowhere to be seen.
When they left and he was alone, Nate returned to his room, losing himself in his music and his most recent book of paintings. He had to keep his mind occupied so it didn’t have a chance to remember.
His body remembered enough.
In the book he held, Nate found himself staring at a painting propped up on a desk. Inhaling, Nate could smell the wood, sitting behind the desk on the floor. He slammed the book shut, and walked to his bedroom door, turning the lock on it.
For a little while afterward, Nathaniel’s mouth felt swollen from being kissed so hard. He knew in light of everything else, it shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. He was happy that had gone away, but there were other things.
He remembered the feeling of the cloth of Libby’s shirt and the tension in her muscles as Nate took her to the ground with him quickly. He had looked across and flinched as he heard the sound of Coby taking the impact of the floor for both himself and Morgan. Nate couldn’t get the sounds out of his head - Libby’s frightened breathing, the final gunshot mixed with Morgan’s terrified scream. For Coby, he remembered, not for him. Coby hadn’t been able to drag himself from beneath the table. Though he tried, he wasn’t able to get more than a few inches.
Nate hadn’t helped then either. He was scared of what he might see behind the desk. He’d already known some of what Buddy was capable of. If Morgan had been shot, as Nate had first believed, and Buddy still had the gun, Nate couldn’t bring himself to endanger his own life. That thought alone had been crushing.
And that meant Morgan had to come out on her own. Covered in his blood, and, he suspected, some of her own. He shook his head to clear it, only to recall his own pain and tenderness, as his body throbbed.
There was angry, dark purple bruising where he had been grabbed and kicked. As he hadn’t gone to the hospital, Nate had taken to doing the only thing he could think of for the pain, and got an ice pack, wrapping it in a towel - but even that didn’t help much. It hurt to do anything but stand still, so Liam had been stepping around him as he leaned against the wall, watching everything happen around him.
Since Libby had been there, Nate had avoided her, and knew without question, he would do the same with Morgan. He hadn’t been able to even look Libby in the eye since everything happened, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to look at Morgan either. They were two of his best friends. He shouldn’t have let this happen to them. He was the man - he should have done anything he could to protect them, instead of letting Morgan volunteer to be violated to save him.
He hadn’t gone to the hospital - purposely forcing himself to walk as close to normal as possible, and blatantly denying any assault when cops or medics asked. It was easy enough to believe. He wasn’t bleeding or wearing jeans with a broken zipper like Morgan, or in complete shock like Libby. He wasn’t wounded like Coby or Jess or Jonathan or Bryan. Nate had gone home while everyone else, it seemed, went in, either for themselves or in support of those who were hurt.
What the three of them went through seemed too personal to even discuss. So instead of sitting with Libby as he wanted to, Nate left the room every time Liam had come in with her. It embarrassed him to be avoidant but what else could he do? Just like with Morgan, he had let Libby be hurt. Nate could feel the dark stares that Liam gave him, and knew he was being blamed. He figured Libby had told her big brother exactly what happened, and now Liam knew what a pansy and a coward Nate really was.
Morgan and Libby both had an idea of what had been done to him, and now he couldn’t imagine either of them looking at him the same way again. He had cried out when it was happening. Nate hadn’t heard a single sound from Libby, and Morgan only screamed when it ended.
--
Legend pulled in the parking lot of the hospital the next afternoon, it was the first opportunity she had to visit Jess. Belle had come by with a sack full of groceries and an offer to stay with Christian and the girls if Legend wanted to make a trip to the hospital. Belle and Elise had each been a godsend to the household, as she was sure Gabe was for Aaron and Bryan - both laid-up with injuries. While Coby was hospitalized, Gabe basically moved in to help out, and she knew Nate’s mom and Joey had come to stay a little while with him.
Now Libby was home, and Legend was sorry to admit that she rarely saw her. If she had any doubt as to where she was, Legend checked her room. She was always there, blinds closed, light off, hidden under the covers. But she knew Libby didn’t stay there all the time.
Yesterday, when she took Christian out to play at the park, Legend returned home to find the coffee that had been in the pot mysteriously gone and the pizza she and Christian had shared the first evening was nowhere to be found. She asked Libby about it and she mumbled darkly about both being old, and having thrown them out.
Legend just shrugged and shut the door. She didn’t like leftover pizza much anyway, and much preferred fresh coffee to old stuff with that nasty layer - skin, Legend called it - floating on top.
The house phone rang so much that Legend unplugged it, after Emily threatened to throw it out the window. It was driving her crazy.
Yes, Emily was home, too, and she was a bigger mess than any of the rest of them. She had only recently stopped shaking - as she had done for an entire day afterward. Their confident, happy Emily was now scared all the time. Noise got to her, especially the unexpected kind. Unlike Libby, Emily still got up, showered and primped in the morning, even if she had nowhere to be. But she couldn’t watch TV or go on the internet without being reminded of what happened. Her parents called her constantly, urging her to move home. They wanted to keep her close.
Legend understood that, and sometimes wished her own parents felt the same and wanted her home. But they, especially her daddy, had insisted she stay and do what she had to do. It was the way she was raised, Daddy insisted. So Legend had stayed. It wasn’t ever really a question though - not with Christian to take care of.
Stepping up to the nurse’s station, she checked on things there. Legend figured it was better to find out how Jess was from the staff first. She heard the same thing Belle had told her when she visited the first night. The first twenty-four to forty-eight hours are critical. She’s in remarkably good condition aside from the brain injury. It’s important to talk to her.
When Legend asked about possible deficits, they were hesitant.
If she wakes up, she might not remember familiar people. She may not be able to speak or swallow. But it was too early to say.
“Can I see her?” Legend asked, feeling tension rest in her gut like a fist.
“She has a visitor - Morgan Davis - right now.”
Legend’s heart skipped. She was ashamed that she had rarely thought of Morgan, or that she was released from the hospital the previous day. No wonder no one had seen her.
Setting her jaw, Legend made her way to the door of Jess’s room, and though she knew it was against policy, went inside - breaking the one-visitor-at-a-time rule blatantly.
Morgan was sitting in a chair beside the bed, her eyes swimming with sleep, as she cradled her chin in her hand, and spoke to Jess in such low tones Legend almost couldn’t hear what was being said. It wasn’t English - Legend knew that for sure. She guessed it was Hawaiian, because of the distinct lack of most consonants, and the gentleness with which she spoke. It jogged a memory at the corner of Legend’s mind.
She recalled Morgan calling Christian something foreign when he was sick in bed, drinking juice and toast for the better part of a week. Legend asked her about it that night.
“Crisis brings my Hawaiian out,” Morgan had said.
Legend forced herself not to focus on Jess right now. There would be time for that. Right now, she needed to take care of Morgan.
She had gone completely unnoticed so far, so Legend slipped quietly behind Morgan and wrapped her arms around tense shoulders.
Stiffening, Morgan drew a breath. Only a vaguely familiar scent kept her from ramming an elbow behind her to ward off the embrace.
“Hey,” Legend said softly. When Morgan didn’t relax, Legend moved her hands to her friend’s shoulders and began massaging the rigid muscles. “You need to come home, girl. We miss you,” she encouraged.
Morgan jerked away. “I need to be here,” she insisted quietly. Glancing at her watch, she cursed seeing her ten minutes were up. “I’ll be outside.”
Alone with Jess, Legend finally dared to look at her. Emotion closed her throat and tears welled in her eyes as she took in her friend’s pale, sweaty face and all the wires trailing out of her - the vent breathing for her. Times like these, she wished her own mother wasn’t an ICU nurse, so Legend didn’t know as much about equipment and terminology.
“Jess,” she managed. “It’s Legend. I’m here. Christian’s fine, okay? I’ve been taking care of him. We’re all okay and we miss you. You need to wake up, Jess, seriously. We need you,” Legend squeezed the limp hand on the bed, and pulled away quickly as she remembered hiding under the table and holding Jess’s lifeless hand.
Ten minutes went by like ten seconds, and Legend left, wiping her eyes - intent on finding Morgan.
She checked outside Jess’s door first, and then in the ICU waiting room. Morgan had said she’d be outside. Rushing to the elevator, Legend rode down to the main floor and went out the doors, to find Morgan leaning against the wall, a cigarette in hand. She wasn’t wearing a coat, but what looked like several shirts - a white undershirt, a dark tee shirt and a green hoodie - her red hat was pulled low on her head, shielding her eyes. She didn’t seem to feel the cold.
“How long have you been here?” Legend asked.
“Since I signed myself out,” Morgan took a long drag, trying to relax her fried nerves. For the first time she could recall, nicotine did nothing to take the edge off her anxiety.
Frustrated, she tossed the cigarette on the sidewalk, ignoring the trash can just to her right. She ground it out with the toe of her sneaker.
“Have you slept?” By the looks of things, the answer was no, but Legend had to ask. “Morgan,” she said, touching her shoulder to get her attention.
Flinching, Morgan turned quickly.
“When was the last time you slept?” Legend asked again, turning up the bill on Morgan’s cap to see the dark circles beneath her eyes.
“That night,” Morgan said dully. “Thursday night. I think they drugged me or something.” She could remember feeling sluggish as she fought sleep, tormented by thoughts and sounds no one knew about.
Legend’s eyes widened. “It’s Saturday morning. You’re going home with me now,” she decided. Legend had meant to stay longer, but couldn’t on good conscience, knowing that her friend had gone more than twenty-four hours without sleep.
“I know what day it is,” Morgan lied.
She didn’t have any idea what day it was. She only knew it wasn’t Thursday anymore. None of the other days mattered. “And hell if I’m leaving with you!” she shook Legend’s hand off her arm. “I’m staying.”
Sighing, Legend laid her hands on Morgan’s shoulders and kept them there firmly. “Listen--”
“Get your damn hands off me!” Morgan exclaimed, pushing Legend back a few paces.
If it was anger Legend saw, she might have gotten into it right there with Morgan. But instead, Legend saw the raw fear that had come into her eyes each and every time she was touched.
She put her hands back on Morgan’s shoulders gently. Legend kept her voice calm and controlled, knowing somehow, it was what Morgan needed. She held Morgan’s gaze until some of the fear left it.
“Listen to me,” Legend encouraged softly. “I know you want to stay, but you need to come home right now. You can come back, but right now you need to come home and get some rest.”
Morgan clenched her teeth at the compassion and understanding she heard in Legend’s voice. It was so much easier to be pissed off, but she was so exhausted and had felt forgotten and forsaken when nobody - not her parents, not her roommates, not even that strange Belle girl - remembered she got out at noon the previous day. She had stood outside while a cold wind blew for close to an hour before deciding to go back inside and visit Jess. She hadn’t slept or eaten since the meal before the pill, and had only just sat down minutes before Legend walked into Jess’s room. It killed her to sit. The idea of sitting in a car, and wearing a seatbelt was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“It’ll be okay,” Legend reassured, keeping her own voice strong. Putting her arm around Morgan’s shoulders, she led her to the car.
--
Bryan studied Coby’s younger brother, Blake, wondering if they acted as alike as they looked. Blake’s hair was dark and long - they even had the same eyes. Except for the slighter build and the distinct lack of facial hair, they matched almost exactly.
Blake had arrived the previous morning after driving through the night from Montana, where he lived with Coby’s father and younger sister, eight-year-old Riley. Bryan had spoken to their dad almost immediately after first walking in the door on Thursday evening. Once assured that his son was “going to be okay,” he told Bryan to expect his sixteen-year-old, as he had taken off with the truck to see his big brother. When Bryan assured him they had room for more, he declined, saying he had to stay home - that Riley had school.
“So, you guys got cigarettes?” Blake asked, leaning an elbow casually on the counter.
Bryan’s eyes widened. “What?”
Silently, Blake raised his eyebrows.
Forcing his voice to be calm, he took a deep breath. “No, we don’t. You’re underage,” he added unnecessarily. “Do you want the first thing Coby does to be kicking your ass and calling your dad?” Bryan looked at the kid seriously, thinking of his own younger sister, and his older sisters’ reactions when they caught him smoking at Blake’s age.
“Oh, my God,” Blake rolled his eyes. “Jake wouldn’t care. Trust me.”
“Who’s Jake?” Aaron asked, hobbling into the kitchen. He hated being laid-up and bored at the same time.
“Coby,” Bryan clarified.
Aaron snorted. “Blake and Jake. That‘s great.” He made his way over to the kitchen table and propped his bad foot up on a chair.
Blake stared. “So, how high was it? That window you jumped from?”
Narrowing his eyes, Aaron spoke quietly. “High enough.”
Raising his eyebrows, Blake nodded. It was more of an answer than he expected. So far, Jake hadn’t told him shit. Just rambled on about some chick named Jess and how he was so messed up about not being there for her. Blake guessed she was pretty bad off, taking a bullet to the head and all.
“So, what all happened in there?” Blake wondered. He tried to make the question casual, fiddling with the tab on his can of Coke.
“You watch the news?” Aaron challenged, his eyes darkening.
Shrugging, Blake met his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Then you know what happened.” Aaron tipped his chin.
“Well yeah, but come on. The news don’t tell you everything. Did you see anybody get shot?” he pressed.
Bryan was across the room quicker than Blake thought possible, given that he was hurt. He was also stronger than Blake thought possible.
Slamming Blake up against the refrigerator with his one good arm, Bryan held the kid’s shirt. Inches away from Blake’s face, Bryan spoke. “You listen, and listen good,” he growled. “You are here because you’re Coby’s brother. You’re family and family stays. But if I ever hear shit like that come out of your mouth again, there’s gonna be more than just your dad and your brother kicking your ass. ‘Cause I will find you and kick it clear back to Montana. Understand?”
Blake’s eyes were wide as Bryan’s hand relaxed, letting go of his shirt.
Keeping his voice controlled, Bryan explained further. He wasn’t sure if the kid was simply curious, or just had no tact whatsoever. Bryan suspected it was some of both. “What you’re asking about is personal. Got it? So I don’t want you asking me or Aaron, any of the other guys or the girls for any details like that.”
“I can ask my brother,” Blake defended, his voice rising.
Bryan took a meaningful step forward. “No, you can’t. You wanna ask questions, you ask him how he is. What you can do to help him. You don’t ask him what he saw.”
Blake nodded, backing off. Bryan wasn’t that big, but Blake didn’t doubt him for a second. He was dead serious. And he was the kind of guy to follow through on a threat.
Bryan stared at him an extra second, and then left to call up to the hospital and check on Coby and Jess.
“This just happened,” Aaron said quietly when they were alone, looking up at Blake with brightness in his eyes that made the younger squirm. “It wasn’t cool. It was messed up. Taking power over a room full of people half your age, who can’t do anything to defend themselves doesn’t make you tough. It makes you a coward. That’s what you can tell your friends back home.”
“I didn’t do this! Don’t blame it on me,” Blake exclaimed. He was just curious, not admiring the asshole who shot his brother and messed with all his friends. Now Aaron was attacking him for it.
Aaron let out a breath and got up, making his way into the hall. He’d been sixteen once. You couldn’t win against sixteen.
“Well, I think jumping out the window when a psycho has your friends makes you a coward,” Blake muttered under his breath.
Aaron stopped where he stood and turned. “I think it does, too.” he admitted, leaning on his crutches a minute before walking out, leaving Blake alone in the kitchen.
When he left the next day, both Bryan and Aaron were relieved.
--
Jonathan sighed, trying Ashley on his cell for the twelfth time that day. They had just seen each other the previous day. She had talked to him on the phone before she came and was in tears. She had told him to call anytime - promised to be there.
But then she had seen him.
Liam hadn’t bent the rules, but he had been out checking on everyone else. Nate didn’t care one way or another who came in or out. So Jonathan took advantage, and had Ashley over. Besides, he was hurt. That had to count for something.
Jonathan remembered the look of horror that crossed her perfect face as she asked, “My God, what did he do to you?”
She wouldn’t kiss him, except on the hand and even that felt forced. She even seemed to talk to his hands, refusing to look him in the eyes.
Jonathan felt a sinking sensation as he thought of the ring he had just picked out for her. He was making payments on it, and it was so awesome. He already had it all planned out.
Christmas morning, he would go out to her parents’ with her and celebrate. He would have invited his own parents too. Jonathan had already asked her dad if Jon could have his daughter’s hand in marriage. He couldn’t help it - he was old-fashioned. Ashley’s dad had approved. And that had been their biggest hurdle.
Until now.
Now the problem was him and the damn scar down his face. The stitches hadn’t come out yet, and he knew it looked gruesome. Almost as bad as the purple and yellow bruises that had formed around his neck, when that asshole tried to choke him.
Jonathan knew without being told that their plans to get engaged no longer existed.
He let out a breath, shuddering. He remembered everything in excruciating detail, but especially the way he had been threatened sexually. “A real man,” Buddy had said.
One thing was for sure, Jonathan had stopped telling gay jokes with Ashley behind Nate’s back. The minute he heard all the derogatory crap Buddy had said, loud enough for them all to hear.
Lying down again, Jonathan closed his eyes, trying to fight off the migraine he knew was coming. He hadn’t dealt with migraines since he was a kid. The minute they got out of that room, one had hit him so hard he wished he could pass out so he wouldn’t feel it.
He buried the good half of his face in a pillow to block out the sun shining in his window and annoying the hell out of him.
Nate was somewhere in the apartment, but Jonathan had no idea where. He was so damned quiet all the time. Opening his phone, Jon called him, knowing it was lame, but not caring.
“Jonathan?” Nate answered, sounding confused. “Where are you?”
“My room. You?”
“Yeah, my room. What do you want?” he asked. Nate was so tired, and it wasn’t even noon.
“Got a migraine coming,” Jon admitted softly. “We got aspirin?”
“I do,” Nate said. “I’ll bring you some. Hold on.”
Turning off his music, Nathaniel reached into his pocket where he kept a bottle of painkillers on hand. He shook out three, and went to the kitchen for water. Then he made his way to Jonathan’s room.
Nate first went to the window and closed the blinds and then approached Jonathan’s bed, holding out the aspirin.
Grimacing, Jon took it, and forced himself to swallow. He knew aspirin really wouldn’t do anything for his pain, except maybe take the edge off. At this point, he was willing to try anything to make even a little of the pain go away.
Before he drifted off, Jonathan felt the bed give, as Nate sat with him. As the pain pulsed in his head, Jon felt grateful that someone seemed to realize how lonely he felt and stayed with him. And he felt guilty, knowing that he wouldn’t have done the same at any point before Buddy ripped their lives apart, while Nate would have.
Because Nate was the kind of man Jonathan wished he was.
--
Libby pulled the covers up higher over her head. She wished her brother would just go away and leave her alone. She wished he was like Emily and just come and go quietly, like everything was normal - or like she had the flu. But Liam wasn’t like that.
Her parents had called and spoken briefly to her, because Libby hadn’t actually wanted to talk to them at all, but Liam made her. There was nothing they could do. They wanted her to come home, but she knew she wouldn’t ever do that.
As crappy as everything was here, she wasn’t about to go home and be fussed over. She’d rather stay here and be invisible.
“Come on. You need to get up. It’s after noon,” Liam pushed, taking the covers off her.
Silently, she pulled them back over herself, ignoring him. Libby knew from experience that nothing got to her brother more than not being acknowledged.
But when Liam picked her up - comforter and all - and stood her on her feet, Libby went stiff.
“I’m serious,” Liam said fiercely, gripping his sister’s shoulders and staring into her lifeless eyes. “This has to stop, or you’re going home.”
Libby shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.
Liam shut his eyes and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I promise, I’ll protect you. I wont let anyone hurt you.”
The helpless tears she cried became sobs, as Libby leaned heavily against her brother.
He didn’t know.
Nobody knew that this wasn’t the first time she had been touched the way Buddy touched her.
The summer before she started kindergarten, their parents regularly dropped her and Liam off at the neighbors to be watched while they worked. If the lady was home, there was nothing to worry about. But if it was only her husband, Libby was tense all day.
He would distract Liam with GI Joes and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - toys they had despite their own children being grown up - and then he’d take her to the room with the washer and dryer, and feel under the dresses she wore.
One of the many reasons Libby admired Jess was the way she raised Christian to treat all adults with love and respect, except if they tried to hurt him. Her own parents only ever insisted that she listen to adults in charge of her, and do what they said. Though she had read the books about good touches and bad ones, and how it was okay to say no, her parents continued to drop her off with the neighbor every day, telling her to behave herself and listen to him. Every afternoon after school, she stayed with him until Liam and her parents came back.
The way he touched her made her want to run and tell Liam, but the neighbor said she couldn’t tell anybody, because nobody would love her. Then, he showed her his gun, and said if she told on him, he would make sure her brother got killed. So she never told. Not in words.
She started throwing big tantrums about getting dressed in the morning, until her mom figured out that she hated dresses. But pants hadn’t stopped him. It had happened until Libby went to first grade, even though by then she had stopped wearing dresses, and only wore pants and long shirts.
To this day, she couldn’t break the habit, especially in the summer months, when the abuse first started. She would wear tee shirts, but always had something on over them. Never shorts, and definitely never skirts or dresses.
He commented from the time it started about her eyes. Now she wore her bangs long, but she was sure Buddy still noticed them. Men in general seemed very taken by her eyes.
As Liam held her and comforted her now, Libby shook. She knew the truth. He couldn’t protect her. He hadn’t when she was a child, and he hadn’t been there this time.
--
Legend had gotten out of the house Sunday night because of pure luck. They were out of dishwasher soap. Libby was zoned out in her room, Morgan had barely come out of theirs since Legend took her home the previous afternoon. Emily simply refused to leave the apartment - though she did offer to watch Christian, while Legend was out.
Trusting that Emily - though she was skittish these days - would do a fine job for an hour or two while she ran up to the hospital, Legend made the decision to go.
Yesterday, Jess had been removed from the ventilator and could breathe on her own. The only thing left was for her to wake up. She had passed the critical window for regaining consciousness. Legend worried, after doing plenty of research in the late-night hours when she couldn’t sleep, that Jess could end up in a nursing home. She might never wake up. She might be a vegetable.
The last thing Legend expected on her arrival was the news she heard from the nurses’ station that Jess was awake. Well, not awake exactly, but conscious, after spending three days in a coma.
“Why didn’t anyone call me?” Legend demanded angrily.
“It just happened within the hour. Though I’m afraid the damage to her brain may be quite severe. She wasn’t awake for long, and probably wont remember today in the long-run.”
“What do you mean, severe? Did she say anything?” Legend asked over her shoulder, already on her way to her friend’s room in ICU.
“Kristen. When we asked her name, she kept saying it was Kristen.”
Legend sprinted the short distance to Jess’s room and took her friend’s hand, squeezing. In the bed, her friend stirred restively.
“Jessie, it’s Legend. I’m here. Wake up and talk to me,” she urged, carefully brushing the limp curls off Jess’s forehead. Her skin was colorless and damp with sweat.
In the bed, one leg moved restlessly under the covers while the other was totally still. It took several minutes and plenty of coaxing before Jess’s eyes opened.
Alarm filled Legend as she saw no recognition in Jess’s eyes. The more Legend looked at them, the more she was reminded of when Jess would sleepwalk and could hold conversations. She looked awake - she could look right at you - but she never had any recollection of what she’d said the next day.
Legend tensed as she heard Jess draw breath.
“Christian,” she said hoarsely, looking everywhere but at the face that was just in front of her own.
Legend’s heart leaped. A lot these nurses knew. Jess’s articulation wasn’t perfect, but there was no doubt in her mind who Jess was asking for.
Tears spilled down Legend’s cheeks. “He’s fine,” she encouraged. “He’s with me and the girls at home. Emily’s watching him.”
The sound of another voice had no effect at all on Jess, never once did she make any kind of eye-contact. “Christian,” she rasped again.
Legend cupped the side of Jess’s face and tried to gently guide it so she could focus. “Can you look at me?” she asked quietly, even as Jess moved her face away, seeming agitated. “Christian’s fine.” Legend repeated. “He’s okay. He’s at home waiting for you to get better…” She let her sentence trail off as Jess’s eyes fell shut.
Racing from the room, Legend stopped briefly by the desk to tell the nurses Jess was asking for her son, and that they could reassure her that he was fine. Then, she took off out the door to use her phone and call home.
Cursing quietly when she inadvertently dialed the house phone, Legend hung up and pressed a button, highlighting Emily’s name.
“Em?” she said, when her call was picked up. “Put Christian on.”
Legend knew that though all her friends were praying and waiting for Jess to wake up - as her only blood family, her little boy deserved to be the first to know that his mom had woken up.
“Yes?” he asked, sounding so grown up, Legend smiled.
“Christian, honey, it’s Legend. Are you having fun with Emily?”
“Yeah,” he said sadly, opening his shampoo and smelling the orange. He wasn’t really having fun. Emily just put a movie on for him to watch and didn’t even watch with him. Nothing was that much fun anymore. Not without his mom.
“Listen I have some good news for you, and you’re the first person who knows, so you can tell everybody.” Legend continued, wanting to make him smile. He had acted almost depressed since she’d tried to take his shampoo the first night. She didn’t make an issue of it anymore, and he took it everywhere with him.
“What?” he asked, putting the top on. He didn’t want to waste the smell. He looked down the hall at the broken Lego village. The crocodiles didn’t do a good job guarding it, so bad guys got in and broke it to pieces.
Legend took a deep breath. “I stopped at the hospital on my way home, and your mom woke up.”
Christian was silent, staring at the broken Legos.
“She asked about you,” Legend continued softly. “So I told her you were with us and that you were waiting for her to get better.”
“Yeah,” Christian agreed, smiling a little.
His mom was coming home.
He shoved the phone back at Emily and took off to Morgan’s room. She had to know first, because Emily was on the phone and Libby was sleeping like she always did now.
Emily took the phone back, as she heard Christian start to pound on Morgan’s door. “What did you say to him?” she wondered. “He took off out of here so fast - faster than he’s moved in days. And he was smiling!”
Warmth spread inside Legend, filling her heart. She thanked God, while saying the words that had changed her world minutes earlier:
“Jess is awake.”
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