Chapter 1

Richard Brook looked up from his desk to the clock as they finished, sighing inwardly as he stood up from the chair he had been sitting in for the last hour.

"Thanks for the time, I should be getting home, James will be wondering where I am..." Richard smiled innocently, looking up at his teacher, Mr. Moran. He had stayed after to ask him a question about class and had lost track of time. It seemed to happen a lot when he talked to Mr. Moran. Glancing outside, it had already started to rain, and scratched his arm absently; the tip of a dark bruise showing on his pale skin, not realizing it was visible. Then again, Richard never had to worry about it. There were a lot of cuts, scars and bruises, some hours old, others years but they were all well hidden, almost strategically placed where clothes could cover them.

"Rich, I-" Moran was about to ask him whether he was alright or not, having seen his small bruise, though hesitated. Surely if anything was wrong Richard would have the confidence to confide in him by now, not only from student to teacher, but maybe even slight friends. Today was almost any other day, the two losing themselves in conversation over the lesson of the day, passing opinions back and forth to each other. "I was just- just wondering when the performance of Hamlet would be on. I really look forward to seeing it, I peeked inside the theater and saw the Crew working hard on the set; it's rather beautiful. And what about your father? Is he coming too? I still have not had the chance to meet him."

The student turned to look at him as he spoke, his soft eyes questioning. He seemed to of realized he'd been scratching again, so he hid his arms behind his back at he listened.

"Two weeks," Richard smiled brightly, "It's going to be fun. Don't go snooping around too much though or you'll ruin it," he warned and gave a small chuckle. Across from him Mr. Moran noted his student's sudden attitude change, shifting slightly at the mention of his father. Before Mr. Moran could formulate his own conclusions Richard quickly shrugged.

"It depends on what's going on that day," he answered simply, not expanding.

Hm. James Brooks... he was the only parent who never arrived to the Parent Teacher conference, Richard giving the excuse that he had been too busy to make it. Work or something, Moran faintly remembered. Despite his near perfect marks in his Language Arts class, Richard never seemed focused, always staring off into the far distance, watching the outside, or maybe doodling in his notebook. Moran made it a small game to call on him and attempt to catch him off guard, though he was never successful.

"I greatly look forward to it then," Moran grinned and waved him off, watching him leave.

"Me too," Richard smiled and gave a small nod as he swung his bag over his shoulders, "I'll see you tomorrow." He smiled, pulling out his umbrella and exited the room

Returning back to grading his papers, Moran started to read something about the importance of symbolism in The Fault in Our Stars, though there was nagging... nagging in the back of his mind.

"Wait! Richard! Rich!" Moran called as he ran after him, down the hall. Surprised by the shouting behind him Richard turned on a heel to find his professor running after him and found himself confused.

"What? Did I forget something?" the student asked, waiting for him to catch up.

"It's just..." Moran bit his lip, determining how to ask and settling that honesty would help him spit out. "Richard... how did you get that bruise?"

At his question he looked down at his arm. So... he had seen.

"You know how life you, you pick up random bruises along the way..." Richard lied with a shrug as he looked up to Mr. Moran in confidence, hoping his past year of newly discovered acting would assist him. Since forever he'd been lying about this his whole life, as natural as bleeding, so why was he finding it so hard and painful now?

"Listen you are a great actor, brilliant really, but you can't fool me Rich, the eyes give too much away. Also Life's bruisers are not that impacting and not that purple... please I just... if there's anything, I mean Anything, would you tell me? I care for you, I do," Mr. Moran stared back at him, unwavering from his spot. With effort he kept his voice calm, not wanting it to be commanding and push Richard away. The student dropped his gaze to his feet, kicking at the ground in defeat and breathed a sigh.

"Maybe... but it was worth a shot wasn't it?" Richard asked with a sigh. If this was how he reacted to a small section of a bruise he wondered what he would say if he saw the rest of it... or all of it. Then again, he wasn't about to find out. But then again Mr. Moran's questions were hard, almost stemming on guilt.

"It's not that I don't trust you... or don't want to tell you..." pausing, "You took the time to listen and be there for me and... it means more than you know but- there are some things I wouldn't burden you with," Richard finished softly.

Moran shook his head and had to blink at the student before him, his chest tightening. At least he could help him this far.

"It would not be much of a burden if one carries them already," he said and offered a weak smile, then realizing where they were decided it best to move elsewhere. "Come on, in here." With his keys Moran unlocked the door to the teacher's lounge lucky to find it empty, most people taking their work home. Sitting on one sofa, he offered Richard a seat opposite to him and bit his thumb in thought for a moment as he stared at the young man.

Richard looked down, biting his lip before looking up as he ushered him into a room. Checking around, surveying the new surroundings before following him over to the couch and sitting down as he motioned him too. It amazed him sometimes, how relaxed he was around Moran some times, Even now... even with the tension he felt... safe. Behind Richard could feel him watching him, he knew he was waiting.

"It's not quite that simple you know... Even if I did... There's nothing you can do."

"But there isn't?" Moran raised his eyebrow, "I understand it's not simple, it can never be. As I stated before, I doubt it would be much of a burden if such things are already carried." At that, he unbuttoned the top of his sleeve and began to roll it up his arm, pausing for a moment with a deep inhale of breath.

"Most of them healed over, though not this one."

Richard frowned, watching him and leaning forward as he rolled up his sleeve to look at his arm. Slowly, cautiously he reached out, his fingers lightly trailing over the scar over his arm. "How'd you get this?" He asked, upon seeing it something seemed to soften inside of him... a barrier you wouldn't of known was there if you hadn't felt it come down.

"Trying to escape... when you are lost in a labyrinth of darkness how can anyone find the light? When it came down to it, I had only thought of one last option left. Except I failed it."

At the touch of Richard's fingertip, Moran tensed, not used to the foreignness of someone else on that small area of skin. Slowly, what was dug was beginning to slowly ink back to memory into his mind, all of it. Almost every detail-

"So you see, I have had my share of problems too."

Swallowing Richard's eyes widened slightly, his eyes lingering on the scar and then back up at him. He knew exactly what he was talking about, it was scary though. Richard pulled his hand away quickly as he felt him tense.

"I'm so sorry... I wasn't thinking," he said frantically, burring his hands into his lap, "I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, biting him lip as he looked down at his own arm still covered. After a second he held out his arm, slowly starting to roll up his sleeve. He only went to his elbow... though the wounds spoke for themselves. That they continued up his arm, over to his torso... The bruise he'd seen the top of covered about half his forearm. The rest of his arm was covered in red cuts and scratches, dark bruises and scars of all ages.

"No it's ok," Moran reassured him and was about to speak again when he noticed the small movements Richard made, then found he was revealing his entire arm. At this there was a bit of mixed emotion: the pity that such a remarkable young man as him was in such a state, angry at the fact it was even happening, and sadness more so because he understood it too well.

"Does it happen when he drinks? When you make him angry or upset?" Moran carefully leaned in and questioned.

"Honestly- It wouldn't matter how I'd answer I'd still be telling the truth. He doesn't need a reason... Sure he does when he drinks yet when I do something he doesn't like- or- but also when he's sober, or when he's bored or when he just feels like it,"

Richard pushed his hair back from his face continuing softly, "It's just the way he works, there's no rhyme or reason."

The more Moran listened the more his stomach turned. Then he noticed the habit was reemerging again, nibbling his thumbnail and he nodded. Taking it in and analyzing Richard's situation sounded worse than he predicted, very severe. Still, the more important question had to follow, vital.

"How long?"

Richard closed his eyes as the question, he'd already known it was coming. He looked down, taking a deep breath. "How long have I lived with him?" he asked, though it wasn't a question, they both knew it... he was making a point. Since he could remember it had been happening, it was normal by now. Sure, there were stories about abuse everywhere, how horrible it was but to him- There was nothing strange or wrong about it even though he knew it should be. If he lasted this long no doubt he could keep it up for another year or so because it was routine. In reality he had nowhere else to go otherwise.

"Next to Normal, perhaps... I want to say sorry. Though sorry and words cannot reverse time not what we been through. No... Richard, it will hurt, it will ache and the only thing we can do is endure it, I know not what long term advice to give. There is- there is one last question I have to ask-" for Moran the sentences were starting to become caught in his throat by now, "Did he also-... I mean... he had a wife once or a girlfriend? Because sometimes when- when... they look for another outlet for that pent up energy..." Moran could not look at him anymore, burying his face in his hands and he shivered.

"There's nothing you could do, you have nothing to be sorry for," Richard told him, smiling at him despite the topic, a genuine smile trying to cheer him up. At his question though, he fell silent again. If left unanswered he knew Mr. Moran would not let him go so easily, too concerned by now.

"If you're asking if there's a woman in his life he uses as an outlet the answer is no," Richard told him after a second, not telling him anything, but again, he wasn't denying either.

"But is he using you to- to-...meet... his needs?" Mr. Moran grit his teeth at the question and was trembling wishing he was not sitting here to ask such questions. Watching him Richard leaned back in the chair, biting his lip.

"Honestly... You don't want to hear the answer to that," Richard said flatly until the familiar wave of nausea washed over him and even a small whimper escaped him.

"Rich... there's one last thing you should know," Moran's hands were shaking, no longer holding himself together. Swiveling his body around, he started to loosen the buttons of his waist coat, falling to the floor, and then started to shed the white button down he had been wearing. When it had lowered to his shoulders, he let it fall to his lower back. Red, deep lines crisscrossed nearly everywhere, some places even blackened from a few charred ones.

Almost scared Richard was ready to bolt, confused what his teacher was doing, half hearing what Mr. Moran said, fixated on watching him as he slid off his shirt. The eyes widened, standing up and walking over his fingers trailing just above the skin, as if scared to touch them after what happened last time. "How..." He started, looking up at the older male.

"My mother. I was her abomination that was never meant to be and apparently reminded her too much of my father. Very too much like my father," Moran began to feel an oncoming headache at the thought, for a moment almost distressed that he was talking to Richard about this, it forced him to remember. Richard looked up at him, his eyes wet. Suddenly without warning he wrapped his arms around the older male, anyone else under any other circumstances it would of been strange but to Richard, it felt natural. Moran's spine almost straightened up when there was sudden pressure wrapped around him and the small feeling of a forehead pressed in between his shoulders.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything or brought any of this up..." he murmured, stepping back and looking at the ground, "I should get going..." he said, clearly spooked and upset at himself for causing Moran's angst.

"No wait Richard please. It's not your fault, although it shakes me, it does feel good to finally tell someone," Moran smiled and began to put his shirt back together, "Please, call me Sebastian, I think we have already stepped over enough boundaries, don't you agree?"

Odd to hear another name other than "Moran" Richard swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to speak, "Sebastian..." he repeated. Part of him wanted to show him all the bruises, all the wounds. But what did it matter, Sebastian probably already knew, it extended beyond the scope of is arms and the torso was a lot easier target sometimes than the hands.

"But I am late getting home and he doesn't like it when I'm even 5 minutes late," Richard muttered.

"Go, go, go! We'll have to talk more tomorrow and I will not do anything, not until you say so... well, tomorrow." Sebastian escorted him to the front doors, luckily no one around to see them, walking him outside, "Rich... stay dry on your walk home."

The student nodded, sliding his sleeve back down. "Thank you..." he replied softly, smiling up at him and nodded while observing the rain, "I'll do the best I can..." The house wasn't too far, and yet it was far enough. On arrival of his door step he took a deep breath, and let himself in, closing the door behind him.