Bad Therapy

by Vethysnia

Riley has a cruel and abrupt reality check. Includes violence, language, and inclined rape.

Cars skidded occasionally, trying to avoid feeble strays or people drunk off their asses attempting to cross the soaked street that is abused the by unusually harsh rain. Of course signs of anyone in that section of time were rare, thus giving the older teen an even more intense emotion of pure desertion. Part of him wished that the ally where he was hiding in was all that existed in his world. He wished he could go back to whatever point of time and find out where he had went wrong. That sentence, 'find out where he had gone wrong', was such a stupid and easily answerable problem. It seemed like his entire life had gone wrong. Maybe none of this would have happened if he hadn't been born at all, so he didn't live his life plaguing everyone he knew and being nothing but a burden to them. Riley Freeman pulled an askew cornrow behind his ear, a simple but uncharacteristic doing that would probably go unnoticed by anyone but those who knew him closest, the exact people who had suffered by even trying to stick by his side and both endure and evade all of his bullshit. His hand went back down, to touch the rough asphalt where the blood from a gunshot wound to his side washed down into the rain on the ground and the red turned to a pinkish hue unseen in the dark. There were deep red rings around his wrists where the coarse rope had held his them together behind his back, and were freed when he used a sharp piece of glass on the ground to cut them apart.

The pain he had felt when that bullet went charging into his skin and breaking his lowest left rib bone had long since disappeared, and now it was the heart that he had apparently forgotten until now that ached like it had been gutted by a steel cartridge instead. Riley groaned loudly, loud enough to have his deepened and scathingly scratchy voice echo off the walls of the dirty disgusting alleyway where he had fallen running from the storm of shells that hailed mixed in with the rain. It wasn't right, none of it was right. The realization was far more profound then a stranger might perceive it. Death of people, people he didn't know, but still individuals nonetheless were caused because of him in the past, because of his choices that he thought were part of him at the time they were made, and now finally he was paying for it. It was his own liability that he and Jazmine were in this shithole of a situation. He damned his selfishness, every single mistake he ever made in his perceivably short life and just wished that there was no heaven or hell after it finally went black so he could safely spend the next plane of existence in plain unfeeling nothingness. Now that sounded like his kind of heaven. Riley's vision faded in and out of focus, teasing him with a taste of the end that he so desperately craved. It was the first time in his life that he actually wanted to die. His hard to hit fearless exterior had been washed away the second he saw the heaving scene of her damaging abuse.

As his memory played out the scene that was now engraved in his mind, his breathing quickened considerably before he opened his mouth and with a last little bit of energy screamed as loud as he could. "Fuck!" His fist pounded the black concrete, the newly made tension in his body making his wound bleed even more.

"Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU!"

To who he was yelling these expletives was none other than himself. The hatred he felt for himself was only matched by his so called friends, his homies, those assholes who left him to rot. And of course we couldn't forget the bastards who had shot him and the one who he had recently been with. The trembling of his body worsened, but he couldn't bring himself to cry. He couldn't let the tears fall. After all, he had already been reduced to enough of a pussy in his opinion.

"Why can't you just listen to the ones around you for once, Riley?" Jazmine asked, her pleading beginning to subside and her tone of voice adopting a much more pissed demeanor.

"Cuz they don't understand, that's why. I don't need their help anyways. Screw 'em."

"Of course we understand you. We understand you're a pathless teenager who doesn't know where he's going in life, and thinks that being rebellious and having meaningless pride will gain him respect."

Riley screwed up his face in rage as he turned to face her, causing her to freeze, but she didn't back down from her otherwise truthful statements.

"Say something to prove me wrong, Riley. In fact I beg you. I'm tired of looking at you and thinking that you don't care about anyone but yourself." She said softly, her whisper carrying something uncharacteristically fierce.

The burning look of fire in his dark brown eyes subsided, but he still scowled at her. Jazmine sighed deeply, as though she was giving up with trying to reason with the guy.

"You may not think we care. You may not think I care. But I guess that just goes to show us all how stupid you are." She said, giving him a defeated expression, but there was possibly a small glint of challenge still left in those green orbs.

"Look Jaz, I gotta go. Cuz if I don't they'll push onto our turf and do who knows what. Those niggas told me PERSONALLY that if I wasn't there then there'd be hell to pay." Riley countered.

"Bleeding Christ is that all that matters to you? Some freaking land? You're just like Saddam Hussein or Fidel fucking Castro only a hell of a lot shorter!"

Riley raised an highbrow. Jazmine cussing. That was certainly something to get used to.

"…You're playing with your life, Riley."

He stared at her. He could see the tears building in her emerald eyes and for once in a very long time felt his heart underneath his muscular pecks and a wiry ribcage thump irregularly from looking at them. It was like…it was like she really cared about him, and all that crap she just said was true. It was a possibility that he didn't want to believe. They stood on the sidewalk, a warm wind caressing the opposing two who were gazing electrically at each other until Jazmine looked at her brass watch.

"I have to go home…" She said, still staring intently at him, as if daring him to say the same. He said nothing to this, but his eyes fixed steadfast on her eyes that were still glittering in a way that only one last pleading request can offer.

"Just think about it, okay? There may be a lot of people out there who want you dead, but I'm sure as hell not one of them."

And he, probably for the first time in his entire life, listened to the mulatto girl. He didn't go, but that was because the entire conversation with her had disturbed him so much. Riley never lived his life in a coke bottle of affection, and some shock mixed in with jealousy was what he felt as she could express her feelings so freely. While it wasn't fair, it wasn't something that he would ever wish for. As he had learned, emotions get you killed. They get other people killed. You have to act like you're playing poker, or else you lose. And today, when they were walking on the street together just like that moment where he had a separate voice of reason, was the day that everyone and everything seemed to come apart. Jazmines words rattled his insides. Not like his brother, who spoke to him about these predicaments in similar ways but still managed to piss him off.

Huey…

All that night it was the initial time that he even thought about his brother Huey. Even if he did manage to live through the last few hours which he half heartedly decided were the last few hours of his life, he would get killed by his brother. Not figuratively either. Riley was always oblivious when it came to people's feelings towards him (as he came to find out that day walking the streets with Jazmine). But he knew where she put her heart, and that was at Huey's feet. It was a long time before he stopped handing it back to her for her to rip out of her bosom once again, but let's just say that sometimes even the incredibly dense can have realizations. It wasn't as if a new person had taken over his brother's body. But Riley could tell that there was a change in his daily conduct. And…once he finds out that his little brother left his soul mate out in the streets somewhere, he would literally finish what those pricks started. It was a dumbass move, for him to listen to her in the first place. But deep down it was just a matter of the responsibility and proof of arrogant bravery that he agreed to meet the opposing gang. He never believed that they would be any real threat. And that was his second mistake. Ironic really…how much can happen in what everyone else would believe to be a quiet pasty faced white town. Although it wasn't the town of Woodcrest itself where all of Riley's reasons for living until now had formed, the city that was forty miles away was where the real shit happened. He could picture his home. Granddad sleeping of course, since he was resting more than usual in amidst of his increase in age and decrease in health. And Huey, who had his own place by then, believe it or not was at least a smidgen worried about him, which would probably disappear once he found out about Jazmine.

Gah! There it was again…that seething blinding pain that he was getting every time he thought about the entire scene, the scene that he wished he could rip out from his mind and throw it into the darkest pits of the world so no one would ever be cursed with seeing them like he was. It was there, it was there every time he closed his eyes and he couldn't stop it from coming. The car ride…the ropes around their ankles and wrists...blindfolds around their heads so they could only hear the sounds of the streets, and the sound of Jazmine's strangled gasps and sobs. He remembered the door of the car trunk opening, being grabbed by a pair of brutally rough hands and thrown to the ground. A squeal and a body landing to his side meant that they had done the same to her. Their blindfolds were ripped off, and two of the blackest eyes he had ever seen were staring at them, his bulging lips curled into a gross smirk that Riley countered with a vicious sneer but said nothing to question the motives of their abduction. He knew the reason. The only question was what these assholes were going to do to them, and quite frankly he sure as hell didn't want to know beforehand. He kept his mouth shut, his lips pursed tightly against one another and waited for the leader to speak.

"Ch, where's yo damn pride now, huh?? You aint got no guns, no boys, you just got this snivelin' little bitch here to protect you!" The nameless man yelled in his face, spit flying out of his mouth and landing on Riley's cheek who was unable to wipe the saliva from his face due to his bindings.

Amongst the pumping rage Riley was feeling flow through his veins, he knew the ass was right; without a gun he was useless, and bound he was about as defenseless as a newborn kitten. Though in the heat of the moment it slipped his mind and he was too fastened to reach it, there was indeed a gun in his left shoe with the safety on. It lay there, unused, forgotten by the teen who was stricken with rage with a tinge of fear.

Annoyed by his lack of reaction, he threw a fist hard into his stomach, causing a shower of blood to fly out of his mouth.

"And we was told that this niglet was good…ha, BULLSHIT!"

He rose from his kneeling position, and another who was obviously the second in command from this particular group came and stood by his side. He mumbled something into the leader's ear, and the both of them chuckled darkly. The secondary situated himself in front of the silently weeping girl, who wasn't making a sound, afraid that they would shoot her on the spot if she made the quietest whimper. He reached up, and lifted up her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Riley tensed up his hands, his knuckles turning bleached white. His mind already knew what was going to happen, but no…no, he wouldn't believe it. He was just praying to whatever the hell was up there to free him of these bindings so he could get away.

"What'chu think, man? Shit is hot, right?"

"Psh, fuck that shit. She aint even that fine."

Riley gritted his teeth, but his mouth came apart finally in a grisly sounding sentence.

"Don't you niggas even THINK about touchin' 'er."

"Why don't you worry 'bout your OWN little punk ass and shut up." The second said, caressing Jazmine's face and smearing her tears into her skin. The leader sighed, and gestured to the rest of his crew.

"I don't give a fuck, guys. Do what ya's gotta do. Maybe it'll teach this little bitch nigga not to be so uppity."

He grabbed a handful of Riley's braided hair and held his head steady so he could watch as the crew of five men seized Jazmine, earning a loud scream from her that obviously no one heard when they dragged her by her wrists to the middle of the deserted street, the tough tar ground scraping her back, and they tore off the ropes that had bound her ankles together. Riley struggled hard to turn away, but the same rough hands that had thrown him out of the dark trunk were now rubbing his calluses against his cheekbones as they held his head forward, forcing him to watch as unspeakable was about to take place. Time stayed at an agonizing pace, not speeding up, not slowing down, but in Riley's opinion it wasn't going fast enough. He couldn't see her very well since she was surrounded by five men who were all aching to have a piece of her, and would soon get their sick needs satisfied. Her jeans were off, that much he knew since now two bare flailing legs were on either side of that second in command jackass who began to make the distinct movements that implied that he was the first, and the one to take her assumed virginity.

A tingling numbness spread to all parts of his body as his mind desperately tried to save him from this trauma, and Riley welcomed the process, and willed with every moral fiber of his being that this would stop. That it all would just stop; her screams, their sickening laughs as they violated his female companion, the tears that were unknowingly streaming down his wide horrified chocolate brown eyes that he had no control over. All of it.

'It's her fault', he tried to convince himself as he repeated the phrase in his mind again. 'It's all of her fault. She told me not to go, and I listened to her. It's all her fault, all of it. My hands are clean, my hands are clean, my hands are clean, my hands are-'

'You shut yo goddamn mouth, you selfish little asshole.'

Said another voice, that sounded exactly like his own but at the same time it wasn't. Oh, so now he was insane. Well that was just a fantastic addition to the state of affairs.

'You just shoulda' got out of this shit on your own. It was YOU who got all those guns, it was YOU who was obsessed with all the violence, it was YOU who robbed a shitload of stores, and painted on all of those turfs, and scorned everyone who even gave the slightest undeserved rats ass about you. ITS ALL YOU, NIGGA, ITS ALL YOU! Good job, Riley, good fucking job.'

As tight as the ropes around ankles were, his feet were shifting and moving so much that the firmness of their binding had worn off, and his feet were free. A tiny blessing it was that he still had his heavy steel toed boots on, and with all the force he could muster he slammed his body backwards, knocking the assailant who was holding his head in a vice grip backwards. The leader flew back. But as soon as Riley turned to run with his hands still behind his back the leader drew a gun and fired, the bullet becoming imbedded right next to one of his kidneys, not hitting any vital organs but becoming stuck in the tissue and was spurting blood out of its small crimson cavity.

For the first moment of his life, he felt almost invincible, and was oblivious at the time to the gunshot wound in his side. Nothing mattered to him right now, just getting away, crawling in a hole and dying. Never had the feeling of running away or backing down occurred to him, but now it was all that was in his mind. He ran so fast that he forgot that Jazmine was still back with those sicko's. His surroundings were a blur, and his vision kept fading from color to black and white. It was surreal, the way his body was writhing with life, but his mind was failing and about to die.

When he 'woke up', he was here, in this ally, where he freed up his hands on that piece of glass.

After hours of sitting there, and being dumbly mesmerized by the blood that was still slowly pouring out of his lesion, he rose, the feeling of anger multiplied by an uncountable factor. Riley thought for sure he had snapped, wanting revenge against those demons who used to be no different than him. But then he decided: once these bullets were in their skulls, he would throw this gun and all of the rest of them into the drains, and never pick one up again. If one were to look at it closely, his entire verdict seemed to be full of hypocrisy. Of course no one ever said that Riley was in his right mind at that time. Sure, he had set out many times with his mission to kill, but this seemed entirely different altogether.

After pulling the small but still paradingly precarious weapon out of his shoe he walked back to the scene with a swagger that only crazy people were known to walk with. Who knew…maybe he finally was crazy. He finally came to the street, the sleekness of the now drizzling rain making the asphalt seem like a black ocean. Riley's eyes darted every which way, but he found no sign of the group. Or Jazmine. He stood still for a few seconds, pondering their whereabouts scrutinizingly. This was a pretty bad part of the city, and abandoned buildings were everywhere on both sides of the street for blocks upon blocks. Out of the corner of his eye, he found his destination. They panned to a project building which within was a lit room on the fifth floor. Riley walked over to the entrance of the building that was unwisely unlocked, opened the door that surprisingly didn't creak or moan, and walked up the stairs in complete and utter silence.

"Yo, bitch! Shut yo mouth already!" The leader yelled as his hand flew across her cheek, but the strike did nothing but fuel the endless sobs coming from Jazmine's quite abused mouth.

"That little pussy didn't even come back to get his hoe. That's cold, man. That's cold…" said Mr. Secondary, laughing slightly, but didn't totally annihilate Jazmine's hopes of being taken out of here.

Her body ached, in places she didn't even know she had. In fact she didn't even realize she was making any noise at all, she was half passed out half conscious and had no control over her actions any more. She was fading in and out of alertness and was becoming something strongly resembling comatose, until she became wide awake at the sound of the door flying ajar. There was an awfully disquieting flurry of movement, and she saw Riley holding a silver handgun, firing it off like a madman. Before they could even reach for their guns, Riley had already shot five of his boys in under seven seconds. One through the right eye, one in the neck, one in the heart, one in the stomach, and the other in the groin. Blood showered her hair and her face; she could even taste the iron of it against her pearly white teeth. Though they would soon die from loss of blood, a few members of his crew who were still alive thrashed disconnectedly, rubbing their own redness into the rotted wood floor. After she focused her vision, she saw Riley in front of the leader, his left hand gripping his throat, the right holding the gun in his mouth and pressing it hard into the back of his throat. Though her psyche was shutting down, she saw the death of their attacker, and then knew no more.

Riley stared into the eyes of the leader, doing what he believed he should've done in the first place. Though he wanted this, wanted to see the fear in his eyes, wanted to be the one holding this fucker over the edge and dangling him over the great precipice that lead to the other side, he took no pleasure whatsoever from it.

"Sweet dreams, nigga." He said, pulling the trigger as hard as he could, willing the bullet to drive hard and fast.

His entrails and fragments of his skull splattering all over the wall of the puke colored room, the leader fell to the ground dead as a doornail, and his eyes were still wide open with the same expression of trepidation that he held when he was still with the living.

Covered in the blood of his last casualty, Riley sighed, his eyes closed, and threw the empty gun the floor. He took several deep breaths, as if he was collecting himself, and turned to look at the seemingly half dead girl lying on the floor; the one he lost and then found. Before moving her, he couldn't help but stare at her dismal state. Her pants were not all the way on but were pulled up to her mid thighs, her shirt was ripped down to her naval, and even though she was already covered in blood, he could see scarlet liquid staining her nether regions. He was looking at an angel who had suffered for no reason entirely. Forgetting to wonder if there really wasn't a God, he gathered Jazmine up in his arms, and with much ignored difficulty made his way down the stairs of the empty building.

Time didn't exist anymore. His feet just kept walking. He could feel tons of blisters forming on his feet, and occasionally one of them broke and a warm liquid trickled down and stained his sock. Riley's toes and legs were completely numb, as were his arms from the weight of Jazmine's limp body. The only thing that even told him he was still alive was his pounding head, which was throbbing as it tried to comprehend tonight's events. He was a cold assed murderer before he pulled the trigger on all of those bastards, he knew it. The new blood on his hands however, told him a couple things: this was the last of his gangster days, it was the end of his gun holding cap busting days. He had been wrong, unbelievably wrong in his choices in life. Though this weighty transition only took place some hours ago, he felt like tearing out all his hair at how ridiculous it was to endanger everyone he knew. He figured he must've been one deadened son of a bitch to not realize how everything he did would affect, both insignificantly and overwhelmingly, his surroundings. His environment was at stake, and he left it there to nearly die.

Where was the ex-thug going? Oh, he had a destination. Though it was buried under heaps of memories filled with violence and repugnance, it was not forgotten. Riley didn't know, but they were already halfway to the Woodcrest hospital. It was the best thing for the both of them. Aside from Jazmine being torn in half by five men, let's not forget the bullet wound in his side. Weirdly enough he still had enough blood to keep on walking, and if losing it all didn't kill him, if he didn't get treated he would die of an infection later. Death…a wanted entity. One that was deeply yearned for, actually. But Riley figured he could die after Jazmine had all the IV's and painkillers that the damn place contained. He dared himself to look down at her sleeping face. Unlike most of the time, her cataleptic face was not one of peace. Her eyebrows were pulled together, her lips shut tight, her cheeks smudged with grime and through it were dry rivers where her tears that slid down her skin had created. He tightened his grip on her body that was gratefully only half his own weight, hoping that when she did wake up, she might never remember any of this ever happened.

Riley ignored the oncoming torrents of people that the main part of the city provided, the looks that they gave him as they easily saw the torn clothing of the one he was carrying and the dark red stains that blemished his white baggy muscle shirt. It was the same way when he entered his own considerably smaller town, but luckily there weren't as many people to see the two of them. But it wasn't as if they would do something about it. The people of the city and Woodcrest didn't seem to care about anything else other than their own issues. The rain storm had ceased, leaving the streets and the buildings shiny with moisture, but lightning and thunder still clashed in the distance. His bleeding feet were swollen from the walking, and Jazmine had been stirring in her sleep for some time now. She moaned and twitched, and mumbled incoherent things that escaped her lips in sub conscious urgency. While he could only remember the night in the real world, she was reliving every detail of it in the dream world. Finally, along with pretty much every one of his other senses, his vision was vanishing, but with what little eyesight he was detaining he could see blinding neon lights of the hospital making his soon to be useless pupils dilate.

Taking a deep breath, he took his last remembered steps through the heavy double glass doors and collapsed hard, his head indirectly thanking him for going on no more. Riley heard a woman shout, and a great bout of movement that involved people who were dressed in what he believed were long white robes. He lay on the floor as people rushed towards the two of them, his arms holding Jazmine's body close to his, and even after he passed out, the doctors found it difficult to pry her from his clutch.

……………………………………………………………………..

Hands…so many hands…touching him, feeling him up. Then pain, searing pain that penetrated his body like a lightning bolt sent from the devil himself. Brilliant colors flashed, numbers in binary flashed, faces of Huey, Jazmine, her parents, Ed and Rummy, his withering grandfather, his long gone parents with their faces as blank as mahogany pieces of paper. Needles, tubes, lights burning into his retinas, a cold metal surface, masks! Millions of masks-

"GASP!"

As Riley shot up strait from the strange and incomprehensible dream, and his bed rattled.

A…bed?

He stared at the room he was in, confused for a few mere seconds but then it came rushing back in torrent of painful but informative recollections. He was in the Woodcrest hospital. He looked down in both of his arms and saw long tubes of fluid dripping into them, as well as a tube of oxygen secured under his nostrils. As he tried to turn his torso to see out of his window which was covered with curtains anyway, he winced and yelped loudly. He lifted the bed sheet to see that his bullet wound was covered in white itch less tape. The surrealistic ness of everything made him fall back against the fluffy pillows, but before he could think about anything his door opened suddenly and in came a rather bulky looking nurse who smiled at him and had a jovial but uncomfortably high volume voice.

"Ah! You're awake!"

He blinked at her, an eyebrow cocked up high.

"I'm sure everyone will be relieved. Your surgery wasn't difficult, but the anesthesia didn't bode well with you, vomited up everything in your sleep yes you did. Not to mention you lost a lot of blood, had to make a transfusion-"

He thought for sure he would die, but ignoring the thought his attention shifted to the beginning of her sentence. What did she mean by 'everyone'? He spoke, but his voice was rough and abrasive and the words came out nothing above a whisper.

"W-who's here?" He asked.

"Oh, your brother, that girl's parents…" The nurse's face fell slightly, the disposition shifting to something that didn't fit her character at all even from the little Riley observed of her.

"That poor girl...raped repeatedly. A fate short of death, and I'm sure just as horrible."

She sighed, her eyes popping out the sad glaze, and the bright and sunny demeanor returned.

"I'll go get your brother, he's waited outside the operation room while you were having surgery, and only left your side until I shooed him out so you could rest with no one in here."

And with that she left.

Bitch must've been bipolar…' Riley thought with a confused expression still on his face. It disappeared once another person entered the room, and it wasn't another nurse dressed in white. Huey walked in, his air even more tense then usual. He walked quickly to the side of his bed, and Riley was already slowly pulling back as if his brother would strike him. But instead he gently lunged downward and pulled his younger brother up into a tight hug. Riley was way too weirded out by this to embrace him back, after all in his point of view it was extremely rare when he and his brother ever showed true unadulterated affection towards each other. Hell, he could only remember three times tops since they moved to Woodcrest that they ever had moments like this. Though his now empty bullet hole throbbed with pain from the movement, Riley did nothing to signify that he felt anything at all and just let his brother hold him close. Huey drew back finally, heaving a sigh as though he had gotten something out of his system. Then the tender mood was totally destroyed as Huey quickly punched his brother hard in the arm. Unlike the jokingly painful punches that Riley had received from him in the past, this was one was totally meant to hurt, and held nothing but the intent to punish.

"What the fuck happened Riley?" Huey hissed at him, shortly after having said this grabbing a chair and angrily sitting down, his eyes boring into the fakely stubborn ones of Riley's. Riley said nothing, just stared back at his enraged brother.

"Answer me, damn it." His brother pressed. Riley still said nothing.

"Tell me why the hell Jazmine was RAPED!"

Riley gritted his teeth, and sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes fluttered downward.

"Huey…"

"What?" Huey said curtly, anger still dripping from his tones.

"…I'm so, so sorry."

"Tell me what you're sorry for, Riley. Tell me, and I'll never ask you about it ever again."

In the most emotionless monotone, Riley told Huey what happened. Everything. From the moment he received the message for him to meet them to the leader making him watch as they fucked his brother's girlfriend to him blowing those scumbags' brains all over that empty apartment room. Huey's visage barely changed throughout the story, just the occasional eyebrow quirk as he tried to contain himself from leaping and strangling the hell out of the bed ridden teen. Hey, he told him to tell him everything. Riley told the last bit of the tale, and looked at Huey apprehensively, searching desperately for any sort of reaction to what had just been told verbally.

"I should fucking kill you right now."

"I know."

"I should take this goddamn tube and strangle the shit out of you."

"I know."

"Naw, you know what? I should go the police, and tell them EVERYTHING that went on tonight so they'll take you to prison, and let YOU get raped just like Jazmine!"

"…I know."

It was silent for a while. Huey rested his chin on his chest while his brother gazed at him almost longingly.

"I…I aint gonna ask for forgiveness. 'Cuz I know I don't deserve it."

Huey looked up at him.

"I just need to know…Do you still love me?"

His brother narrowed his eyes, sighed and looked up at something that was probably nonexistent up on the ceiling.

"Psh…of course I do, man."

His hands reached up and idly gripped his own nappy trademark afro.

"…and that's the REAL fucked up part in this."

The two sat in silence once again, this time the tension and anger coming to a downward shift.

"Jazmine's here too. Her parents were insane with worry. Believe me, I would know." Huey said darkly.

"…How is she?"

"They did a gynecological examination, then gave her a pregnancy termination pill."

"You didn't answer my question. How is she?"

"Fine, physically at least." Huey sighed heavily.

"Do you wanna see her?"

"No." Riley said quickly, knowing full well that he was not ready to look upon the girl again.

"She's been wide awake for nearly an hour. I think she'd like to see you." Huey pressed.

"I said no." Riley repeated, annoyance definite in his voice.

Sighing again Huey pushed back his chair and stood up.

"Riley…I pray that you finally learned your lesson. I really do. If the deepest violation of the most innocent soul can't convince you, you're already dead on the inside." Huey walked towards the door, exiting it while mumbling a barely heard 'goodnight'.

With his eyes half closed, Riley suddenly realized just how tired he was, but it took some strength to close them completely. Because he was afraid, that he'll wake up again, and it was all a dream. Or that the epiphany he had would just be an illusion and he would go back to living the live of a thug, forcing this to happen all over again. He never considered himself a moron. Sure, he could be quite thickheaded at times, but he had his moments where he could show everything as crystal clear just as well as his brother. But if all of that were true, why did it take the witnessing of one of his secretly beloved friends being screwed against her will to finally pry the idea into his head that maybe he was making one substantial mistake with his life?

Let's just say being a lost spirit and finally finding oneself is not always a happy feeling.

Riley rolled over on his uninjured side, and drifted off into a sleep that was blessedly dreamless.

……………………………………………………..

A year and a half later, Riley was in his room, the same room that he and his brother shared when they were younger. Though he used to act like he basked in the glory of having the giant room to himself finally, he deep down thought that it was way too big just for one person. The large space was not decorated with posters of dollar signs, and on the far side the bookshelves where Huey kept his infinite volumes of books were empty. But, still keeping true to Riley's self, there were cloths everywhere and his bed was unkempt. Riley sat on his bed, his head resting on his fists as he gazed thoughtfully at the wooden mural that was positioned comfortably in front of him. He had finished it just an hour ago. And after he put away all of his paint and brushes, and cleared out the newspaper off the floor, he decided to sit down and study it. The painting was shiny from the undried color, and gave off a glare from the room light above. Up until now he hadn't done a single drawing or painting depicting what happened almost two years ago. On the canvas there was a faceless character dressed in the same bloody cloths that he remembered wearing. The figure was split open from navel to the sternum, and flames were erupting out of the large incision. Hooks were attached to its arms and legs and pulling its skin off. Around its neck was another figure's arms, faceless like itself but had that distinct light brown gravity defying hair, who's eyes had knives stuck in their sockets. Some time passed before he even thought about getting up. But Riley just sat there, staring at his painting. The same haunting memories didn't come back this time however. A different one began to run its film.

"I guess my desired action is somewhere around a 'thank you' and then pushing you in front of a bus." Jazmine said, her full lips curving into something that at least resembled a smile.

Riley said nothing, just studied her silently from across the kitchen table. He crossed his arms and slumped down in his chair, giving the classic behavior of a little jackass who just got in trouble, but something had certainly changed about him. He still had an intense jive accent, used the same amount of slang. Maybe it was just the way he acted around her that was different.

"Riley, I'm not saying we should get over it. We might never get over it! But despite what happened there's more to life than just not being dead."

Riley snorted loudly. "Uh huh, well I don't know about you, but stayin' alive is all that matters to me anymore. There's no WAY I'm messin' with that shit no more."

Jazmine stood up from her chair, her two hands planted on the surface of the table.

"I was raped five times strait and somehow I've found the strength to not bitch about how horrible everything is." She said, her eyes narrowed and staring strait at the teen who had rescued her just six months before.

"I miss you, Riley."

"You and Huey see me just about every damn day."

"That's not what I meant. I miss your personality, I think Huey does too. I didn't like the fact that you teased death every day, but at least you were alive in HERE." She said while pointing to her heart nestled under her left bosom. She walked over to where he sat, and got down on her knees while Riley stared at her questioningly.

"Please." She said.

"Please WHAT?" He exploded. "Please make things the way they used to be? Please enjoy yo fuckin' dead end job? Please ignore these goddamn nightmares that are in my head every night?"

She just stared at him while he came down from his high top of outbreaks.

"Yes, do exactly that." She said. "I wanted you over here for this exact reason. Just to tell each other stuff that we haven't gotten the chance to. Mission accomplished!"

Riley raised an eyebrow, once again putting on the whole 'I'm not going to listen to you' façade, but Jazmine knew that he lost that flawless ability a long time ago. He had changed drastically, and not the point of comfort either. It was strange to see him so reserved, so quiet, so unnervingly watchful. Heck, he was acting a lot like his older brother, only it wasn't natural to his true personality.

"Can I go now?" He said, rolling his eyes, which merited nothing but another small smile from Jazmine. Rarely did he use his old mannerisms, and when he did she savored the moment of genuineness. Jazmine nodded, and he rose abruptly, feeling ill at ease at how she was still on the floor and how he sized her up. He knew that certain things in everyday life gave him flashbacks. He wasn't sure about Jazmine, but he figured he was correct since she rose quickly afterwards. Riley started towards the door, not looking back as he heard her say something after him.

"Just think about what I said to you today, okay?"

And he left.

Riley arose from his bed and gingerly touched the paint, finding it dry. He used to hate it that both Huey and Jazmine were so damn right all the time. But now he realized that listening to them once in a while might keep his life on track. He didn't want to become some goody two shoes. It seemed that it was impossible how his brother didn't have a cop come to their house on his behalf and still managed to scare the crap out of people without drawing a gun, a knife, or anything on them.

'Well if he can do it, I can.'

Riley hoisted up the mural with the dried bizarre painting still attached to it, and placed it in his closet. It would be a reminder. A reminder of not only that night where his world changed, but what he used to be, and how he felt once the glass that was holding his own ignorance inside of it shattered and the shards went everywhere in his body. It hurt, it hurt like a son of a bitch and he never wanted to feel it again. He had done many paintings and drawings, but none like this. And no more would ever be like this. Even so, he had to admit that if he was someone else who saw it, he would think it was pretty freaking tight. He then went over to his bed, tore out the bed sheets from underneath the comforter and brought it back to the closet. He would get better, he had to get better. No, he WOULD get better. He was Riley Escobar, son! And no matter what happened to him, he wouldn't go hide in a cave for the rest of his life.

He threw the sheet over his painting, and closed the closet door.

END.