This is a very, very dark story. So please read the warning before reading this story. The idea just came to me one day, and I started writing it. I was hesitant about posting this, but I would like to thank the lovely ladies who read the original draft of this and encouraged me to post. I didn't know if you wanted to be named in correlation to this story, so I left it out, but you know who you are and you are all amazing. Thank you so much. If enough people are interested I will continue this story. Let me know and there will be a chapter two.
I wasn't going to write anymore James' angst, not after Wishful Thinking, but I just couldn't help myself. But this one has a lot of Carlos angst too.
Warning: Kidnap, Rape, Graphic Descriptions of Rape, Torture, Pedophilia, Swearing
"That was amazing! Who know skateboarding down a slide could be so much fun!" Carlos loudly exclaimed bristling with excitement and excess adrenaline as he giddily bounced next to James.
"I'm just glad you're not dead," James playfully responded and threw an arm over Carlos' shoulder.
"Aww thanks, James," he smiles brightly up at his tall friend.
"I just don't want to have to be the one to explain to Logan what happened. He might kill me, or mess up my hair," he pouts.
Carlos rolled his eyes before reaching around and rubbing his hand across the top of James' head. "There you go, all messy. Now you don't gotta worry about Logan."
"Gee thanks," he darkly glared at the latino as he pulled out his mirror and comb to fix his hair. It always amazed Carlos how James' hair was always perfect. He once saw Kendall and James wrestling playfully in a puddle of mud, but when both boys emerged from the puddle, laughing and covered in mud, James' hair was the only part of his body untouched. Like a forcefield protected it or something, he immediately thought and started laughing out loud to himself.
James icily glared at him, as the comb and mirror mysteriously disappeared into his bottomless pockets once more.
"What time is it anyway?" James asked after couple comfortable minutes of silence as they casually strolled on.
"Uh, 8:30. Why?" Carlos replied after glancing at his watch.
"Oh shit! We're late!"
"Dude, chill, we're only half an hour late," Carlos easily responded, trying to calm the other boy. The two boys were on their way to James' house, celebrating the last of their summer in a weekend long sleepover. They had spent the entire day hanging out, eating pizza, skateboarding, and just plain being crazy and to Carlos the day the was perfect. James' mother, however, despite being a young beautiful woman, (whom Carlos totally did not have the hots for), was very overprotective. James was the only person who never complained about how early his curfew was or that his mother always needed to know where he was. All the younger boy said on the matter was that 'he knew where she was coming from' and 'he couldn't fault her for worrying about him.'
"Yeah, but you know my mother, Carlos. She freaks out if I'm not home five minutes early."
"We'll be at your house in about ten minutes if we hurry. I'll take the blame if you want me to?" Carlos offered.
"It's not that," James said and looked worriedly ahead of them on the road, "I just don't want my mother to worry."
"It'll be okay," Carlos said and patted James on the back because he didn't know what else to do. James just looked so sad in that moment and Carlos never liked it when one of his friends was unhappy. When others were down, it hurt him too, so he always tried his best to cheer everyone up.
He just wanted everyone to be happy.
"I'll race you there!" Carlos cheerfully prodded. "Winner gets to kiss your mother!"
James scrunched up his face in disgust at that comment. "On the cheek!" Carlos amended. "Jeez James," he said and rolled his eyes at his friend.
"Just admit it Carlos, you have the hots for my mother!" James pointed accusingly at him, but Carlos was glad to see a smile on his face.
"She is a beautiful young woman and any man would be blind to not notice," he nodded thoughtfully.
"Uh, huh." James raised one eyebrow at him skeptically, Carlos grinned manically in return. But whatever response he may have had was cut short when a cop car crept up silently behind them.
It's probably my father, Carlos sullenly thought. It wouldn't have been the first time Miss Diamond called the cops looking for her 'missing' son.
To his utter horror, as the cop car rolled to a stop next to them, it was Officer Karas' face that greeted them. Karas had been on the force for as long as Carlos could remember. He was younger than Carlos' father with calculating brown eyes, an icy disposition and sandy brown hair swept back over his head. He was cold towards most people, including the other officers on the force, but never had he done anything seriously wrong. Carlos hated the man. He really didn't have a reason, other than the guy seriously creeped him out from the first moment he saw him. He wasn't actually sure why, but every time he was near the older man, it always made him shiver in fear and disgust. He just never like the way the man looked at him, as if he wanted something from Carlos.
"Do you boys need a ride home?" Officer Karas asked with a smile that gave Carlos chills, his slightly yellow teeth shining in the fading light of day.
James opened his mouth to respond, but Carlos quickly cut him off. "No," he burst out, before grabbing James' arm and dragging the boy down the road, hoping he got the hint. There was no way in hell Carlos was willing going to get into a car with that….creep.
James shot him a confused look, but thankfully didn't protest as Carlos dragged him along hurriedly. "I think we'll just walk," James politely said with a smile and followed behind Carlos, trusting him enough to not ask questions at the moment.
Karas car slowly followed them, like a silent predator quietly stalking its prey.
"Are you sure?" Karas asked with a frown. "It can be awfully dangerous out here at night." He gave the boys a smile again, the smile that Carlos absolutely hated.
"We're fine," he snapped and tugged harder on James' wrist.
Carlos gritted his teeth and hurried along.
He heard the gears shift and the car stop. Fear and nervousness settled in his stomach as heavy footsteps echoed behind them.
"I thought you might say that," Karas' dark thick voice loudly boomed behind them. Slowly, he turned around as his heart raced in panic and fingers shook with fear.
The barrel of a gun was just inches from his nose, when he finally turned to face the older man.
"Get in the car."
He was too scared to move. His feet felt heavy and his heart was beating so fast it felt like it would explode if he took one step forward.
Karas grew impatient. He drew his hand back, and Carlos clenched his eyes shut, flinching as the weapon whistled past his face. He heard a dull smack of metal hitting flesh, but when no pain was felt, Carlos snapped his eyes open.
Karas had pistol whipped James, with enough force to knock the younger boy out cold, as James slumped forward, unconscious the cop caught him, throwing James over his shoulder and pointing the gun straight at Carlos again.
"Get in the car," the dark voice demanded. His eyes darted towards the unconscious form of James slumped over the man's shoulder. He couldn't leave James alone. This time his feet moved forward unwillingly, straight towards the back of the car, towards an unknown fate, but one he knew couldn't be good.
Karas muscled James into the car and Carlos slowly followed. But as his back was turned to the cop, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his skull, before his sight faded completely.
Carlos groaned loudly as he forced his heavy eyelids open. It was a dream, a horrible, horrible nightmare. His mind was playing games with him and when he opened his eyes, he would be in James' room, lying in a sleeping bag with his best friend safe and sound next to him.
But instead the hard earth materialized before him. He blearily took in his surroundings of tall trees and forest shrouded in darkness. Just barely peaking through the thick cover of leaves and branches was the moon and stars shining brightly in the night sky, staring innocently at him, ignorant of what was happening.
Shuffling and low grunts tore his eyes away from the dark sky to the grim forest floor. Horror and fear twisted painfully in his stomach when he caught sight of Officer Karas straddling James' thin waist, grunting with effort as he ripped the younger boy's pants off of his legs. James was still unconscious, a steadily bleeding cut and quickly forming bruise decorating his temple.
He tried to yell at the man to get the hell away from James! But the only thing that came from his mouth was a muffled shout. He quickly brought his hands to his face, his fear and panic nearly overwhelming as he felt the duct tape bound across his lips. He nearly jumped, shaking uncontrollably as he brought his hands before his eyes and saw the thick rope wrapped around them.
Carlos scrambled to sit up, the dirt and rocks scraping against his skin. He didn't want to look down, but he had to know. Darting his eyes as quickly as he could, Carlos looked down to find himself naked, completely exposed beneath the hands of a madman. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment and shame.
Karas had…touched him, while he was unconscious and vulnerable. What else had the man done to him? What else had he done to James? How had such perfect summer day turned into...this?
A sinister laugh forced shills down his spine. "Finally awake?" the twisted voice of Karas filled the still night air. There was hint of laughter in his voice, of amusement and something Carlos didn't want to name, something he'd never heard directed towards him before: lust, thick unadulterated lust.
Carlos bristled in anger as Karas ran a rough hand under James' shirt, across smooth, untouched skin. Had the officer done that to Carlos as well, touched him where no one had touched him before?
"Get away from him!" he yelled, but again his words were muffled and damped by the duct tape. Karas laughed at him again, and Carlos' felt his cheeks grow hotter in embarrassment.
The old perverted man stepped away from James and slowly advanced. "What was that, Carlos?" he mockingly asked as he knelt next to him and slowly reached out a hand. Carlos jerked away from him and Karas laughed again before painfully grabbing a fistful of his hair. With his free hand, the officer ripped the tape from his mouth in one quick burning tug.
His tongue was frozen in fear. What did one say to a man that had kidnapped you and striped you naked, his intentions terrifying clear? What did one say to a man that had stolen your dignity and innocence in a matter of minutes?
"I…I..." he stuttered, unable to form a sentence beneath the dark piercing gaze of the twisted older man. A crooked smile spread across a crooked face.
"We're going to play a little game, Carlos," his calm, soothe voice told him.
"I..I don't want to play a game," Carlos managed to stutter past the fear and panic making his tongue and limbs numb.
"What makes you think you have a choice?" his dark voice whispered so close to his ear, he shivered as his hot breath ghosted over his naked skin. The hand in his hair vanished, as the officer stood menacingly to his feet.
He watched, eyes sickeningly fixated on the officer in fear, as the older man pulled down the zipper of his pants.
"Suck it," he commanded and pulled out his erection.
Carlos shook his head 'no' his eyes staring up pleading at the officer in fear and trepidation. A dark look passed over even darker eyes. Karas reached for his gun, and Carlos flinched in fear, but the hand passed over the weapon and pulled out a knife instead. The deadly blade glinted in the faint moonlight.
"It's the most beautiful weapon in the world," Karas said as he stared at the knife in admiration, "and it's going to be in your throat unless you suck on my dick."
The hand reached for his head again, burying fingers into his hair and tugging painfully, the knife perched dangerously close to his neck. He panicked, he didn't want to die, couldn't leave his friends and family behind like that, so he nodded his head slightly.
Hot tears dripped down his face as the officer forced his erection past his lips and deep into his mouth. He coughed, gagging on the forced intrusion, but the man did not ease up.
Carlos has no idea what he's doing. He's never even thought about doing this before, nor has he ever even seen it happen, never even curiously looked it up on the internet, so he just let the officer thrust into his mouth, his dick hitting the back of his throat as he struggles to breathe, struggles to ignore the ache building in his jaw and throat and head where fingers are painfully digging into his skull. The tears never stop, they continue to drip from his eyes in fear and shame, as the officer fucks his mouth. He clenches his eyes shut, trying not to watch it, trying to pretend this isn't happening, trying to pretend he can't hear Karas' sick moans of pleasure.
Hold liquid burns down his throat, choking him, and fear flashes through his mind. He's going to die, he thinks, he's going to choke to death and this is how is father is going to find his body.
It would break his father's heart.
The pressure eases up, though, the hand leaves his hair, and Karas withdraws, laughing that crooked laugh that Carlos hates so much, as the young latino splutters for air, choking and spitting up the officer's cum.
His eyes catch movement. Eyes dart behind Karas to see James' creeping up, a branch in hand.
But the attack never comes.
Karas turns quickly, grabbing the branch from James' hand and lashing out with his fist. The branch clatters to the ground as Karas wraps his hand around James' throat and slams him into a tree.
"Think you escape so easily," he hisses to the younger teen. "Think again," he spits out and hits James so hard in the stomach the boy falls to the ground, a muffled grunt ringing out in the still forest as Carlos flinches again.
Karas knelt down next to his best friend, and wrapped his hand around the back of his neck. "You're going to pay for that," he promises, before turning his icy glared towards Carlos. "Carlos, fuck your friend."
"No," the young, terrified boy shook his head, eyes wide with fear. "I don't want to."
"You seem to think you have a choice," the office sneered. "Get over here now and fuck your precious little friend, or I will start slicing him open, limb by limb." He accentuated his point by sliding the knife down James' arm, hard enough to leave a shallow gash that dripped crimson blood.
His shoulders shook. "I…I can't do this, please don't make me do this, please, I'm begging you," he pleaded with the man. Karas smirked, dark eyes full of lust turning to glare at Carlos. The evil officer placed the flat edge of the knife under James' chin and lifted his head. Brown eyes full of tears and pain and an overwhelming sense of fear, searched frantically around the forest, at anywhere, but Carlos.
"Do it now," his calm voice demanded, "or I won't hesitate to slice open his throat."
James' dull brown eyes finally found his, but Carlos saw nothing in them but fear and pain and…acceptance as tears finally fell from his own eyes. If James was willing to do this, then Carlos was to, to save his life.
His stumbled forward and crashed to his knees as his arms, bound as they were, prevented any gracefulness.
"That's a good boy," the madman purred. Roughly, Karas shoved James face first into the floor.
Slowly, trying to drag this out as long as possible, Carlos dragged himself over to James and straddled the younger boy's hips.
"I…I don't know what to do," he hesitantly admitted. He's never even had a girlfriend, let alone thought about having sex with his best friend. Briefly, Carlos remembered their sixth grade health class talking about anal sex, but he's hadn't really been paying attention at the time past the snickers. "Aren't I…aren't I supposed to prepare him or something?"
"NO!" the irate officer yelled, clearly becoming impatient with Carlos' slow pace. "Get yourself hard and shove it in!" he demanded.
"But…but what if I can't get hard?" he quietly asked, because the idea of raping his best friend was not appealing at all. It made Carlos want to throw up, it made him want to hide in a corner and cry.
"If you don't, then both of you will die right now. So I suggest you get hard."
Carlos tried, he really tried, he stroked himself and it slightly worked, until he saw James trapped beneath him with Karas' hand buried in his silky brown locks. Guilt twisted in his gut, and it burned as if a fire was raging within him. White hot flashes of agony tore through him at the mere thought of hurting one of his closest friends. But he would not let this madmen murder his best friend. As much as it pained him, he looked away from the trembling terrified teen below him and the evil man next to him, and stroked his penis until he was slightly hard.
"That's enough," Karas commanded, his voice tinged with anger and impatience. "Put it in."
Carlos lined his dick up and slowly, slowly pushed into James' tight entrance. A muffled whimper could be heard through the duct tape plastered across the younger boy's face, and it tore at Carlos' heart. He was the cause of that whimper, Carlos was the one hurting his friend.
"I can't do this, I can't do this," he shook his head again, his tears streaming down his face, and began to pull back, but a tight grip on his wrist stopped him.
"Unless you want to see me skewer your little friend with my knife, you will keep going," Karas voice was dangerously low.
Carlos was torn, he didn't want to do this, he…he couldn't be the one to hurt James like this, to brutally strip him of his innocence on the dirty forest floor. But if he didn't, he would be forced to helplessly watch his best friend slowly bleed to death, unable to do anything, but watch the life slowly drain from his eyes.
Carlos didn't know which was worse, being a rapist, or a murderer.
But he didn't care how much James may hate him when this was all said and done. He couldn't watch James die, he just couldn't.
A harsh sob tore past his throat and he nodded.
Karas released his hold on James' head and on Carlos' wrist. Carlos could see the older man fumbling with his belt, dipping his hand beneath his pants and pulling out his own erection again. Carlos turned away, disgusted by the display.
"I'm so sorry, James, I'm so, so sorry." He pushed back in as gently as he could, a barely audible whimper escaping past the tape, but James' body was resisting him the entire time. He leaned closer to James, and with tears in his eyes he spoke to him.
"Please, I know it's hard, but please try to relax," he begged his friend. "It's just me, and I don't want to hurt you," he whispered to the distraught teen.
James nodded slightly, and Carlos ran his hands soothingly across his back, trying to ease tense muscles, until finally James relaxed enough for Carlos to push in the rest of the way.
He was ashamed to admit it, even to himself, how amazing it felt, to feel James' muscles clenching around his dick. Disgusted and ashamed, he quickly choked off his moan before it could escape.
"Start thrusting," Karas demanded, as the officer languidly stroked his dick, "and don't stop until you've finished."
"I'm sorry, James. I'm so sorry." Carlos started sobbing uncontrollably as he slowly, and as gently as he could, thrust into the younger boy, whispering soothing words to the teen, hoping they comforted at least one of them.
It was quickly over, but not soon enough before he was panting harshly, his orgasm thrumming through him and spilling into the teen beneath him. He slid out slowly, relief filling him that it was finally over, and buried his face in his hands, sobbing for his best friend and for himself.
"Are you fucking happy?" he hissed at the dark man through his tears. He glanced towards James who hadn't moved since Carlos first penetrated him. His head was buried into his arm, face completely hidden from the world. The officer sent an icy glare his way that made Carlos shiver.
"What did you say, you little bitch?" the angry man stood menacingly to his feet, towering over Carlos.
Carlos looked down, suddenly afraid for not only his life, but the life of his friend as well. "N-nothing," he stammered out, though it killed him to back down. He was doing this to stay alive and if this is what it took, so be it.
A fist lashed out and caught him across the face. The force of the blow sent him crashing to the ground, his wrists screaming in pain as he awkwardly caught himself on his bound hands.
"That's what I thought, you little fucking bastard," he hissed. Carlos groaned, trying unsuccessfully to shake the stars from his eyes. His vision swam dangerously, his cheek throbbing in pain.
A hand wraps around his throat. Painfully, Carlos is lifted to his feet by the hand on his neck. Karas slams him into a tree, his back colliding with the hard bark, the air rushing from his lungs. He splutters for breath, but finds he cannot breathe at all. He thrashes as his deprived lungs become starved for oxygen, but the hand around his throat tightens in response.
Karas leans in, lips close to his ear. "Because of your disobedience, I'm going to fuck your little friend, and there's nothing you can do about it."
The hand lets go and Carlos falls onto his hands and knees. Air rushes into his body and his lungs seize painfully at the sudden onslaught, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath on the cold ground. His surroundings fade from sight and for a moment he forgets everything, except for the pounding in his skull and the heartache in his chest.
He doesn't know how long he sits there, trying to regain his thoughts, before a muffled scream brings him crashing back to reality. When he pulls his blurry vision towards the sound, his wishes he hadn't, wishes so bad that this isn't happening. Wishes so bad that it was him, instead of James that the twisted officer had taken a sick liking to.
James is on his hands and knees, Karas behind him, cruelly thrusting into the trembling teenager. His grunts and moans fill the quiet forest, but it is just barely audible above the muffled cries and heart wrenching sobs being torn from James.
Carlos stumbles to his feet, the world tilts and sways dangerously. Something deep and twisted, and sinister and spiteful, snaps inside of him. He turns to face the scene in front of him, determined to at least watch if James can endure it. But the sickeningly feeling in his stomach grows into a monster, angry and bitter and hateful, emotions he's never felt this strongly before.
There are tears running down James' face and he's crying so hard, Carlos is afraid he might hyperventilate or throw up. As the officer continues to thrust, his sick moans of pleasure and the horrible slap of skin against skin, twists his innocence.
A war cry is torn from his throat, it starts deep in his gut and bursts from his mouth in an angry roar.
"Stop it!" he cries.
"Fuck," the mad officer moans as he comes into James, riding out his orgasm. He pulls out, and Carlos nearly pukes when he sees the blood running down James' thighs. Karas laughs when he takes notice of Carlos' angry face and clenched fists.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asks and kicks James in the stomach. James cries out in pain past the duct tape, his sobs reaching a near hysterical level. "Aren't his broken sobs the most beautiful thing you've ever heard?" The officer asks with glee written on his twisted face.
"You are a sick bastard," Carlos screams at him. His fury is tangible. He can feel it running through his veins.
Karas smirks at him. Playfully he tosses the knife from hand to hand. "Oh really?" Quicker than Carlos can react, Karas attacks plunging the knife into James' side, the weapon disappearing into his friends' flesh just below his ribs. Blood quickly pools over the weapon, soaking through James' shirt and steadily dripping to the forest floor.
"Don't!" Carlos cries and it comes out as just another broken sob. "Please, stop, I'll do anything." Blood is dripping from James' side, and he didn't violate his friend for nothing. They were not going to die tonight, they weren't. Carlos was going to make sure of the. He hates to beg to this man, but in the face of death, pride and self respect means nothing anymore. Karas laughs, before kicking James one last time in face. The old officer crosses over to him, knife still in his hands glinting dangerously in the moonlit and dripping blood.
He backs up as Karas advances, until he hits a tree. The officer grabs his chin and forces Carlos to look at him. "You fucked him too, Carlos, what does that make you?" Karas provides with a cruel, crooked smile.
"Not quite as insane you," Carlos spits out. He tried the oldest, dirtiest trick in the book: kneeing his attacker in the crotch. But Karas anticipated the move and blocked it, before turning Carlos around and slamming him into the tree, pinning his small frame beneath Karas' heavy body.
"I think you're jealous, Carlos," his lust filled voice says. "I think you want a turn."
"Fuck you," Carlos hisses and starts struggling as hard as he can. He feels something hard and slick (with James' blood he sickeningly realizes) press against his ass.
"Stop struggling you little, bitch," Karas insists.
Carlos does not listen as Karas pushes into him. It hurts, it hurts so bad that he cries out in pain as one vicious thrust has the older man buried balls deep inside of him. It sickeningly dawns on him that James' blood is a lubricant for his own violation, and the thought nearly makes his puke.
He pushes it from his mind and tries to remember everything his father taught him about self defense. But in his panic the information has slipped beyond his recollection and he cannot pull a single move from the abyss that is his mind.
So he thrashes and struggles and fights the older man despite how much it hurts and despite the knife perched dangerously close to his shoulder, until finally, and luckily he lands a solid elbow to the officer's face. Karas stumbles back slipping from his body with a sickening pop. The knife slides across Carlos' shoulder, digging painfully into his tender skin as the officer loses his balance. It leaves a deep gash in his shoulder that bleeds profusely and burns in pain, but the knife clatters to the forest floor from the jar of the impact.
Carlos quickly makes a grab for it and nearly cries in relief when his fingers grasp the hilt. He rolls away from the officer and quickly stands to his feet, despite the wave of dizziness crashing over him.
He can't look very intimidating. His hands are violently shaking as he holds the knife in front of him, and he's sure the look on his face is one of fear.
"Give me the knife, little boy. We both know you're not going to use it," Karas condescendingly mocks him. But he's wrong, so dead wrong. He risks a glance towards James who is lying still in the dirt, blood pooling around him at an alarming rate. Carlos can't even tell if he's conscious, or if he's even…alive.
He could kill this man for what he has done. He would not hesitate to use the knife if it meant protecting James and keeping them both alive.
Stubbornly, Carlos shook his head, refusing to give up or give in. He's not going to let things end with two dead teenagers on a forest floor with a murderer who is never found.
"If you want it so bad, come and take it," he growled. Karas was poised, ready to lunge, but the attack never came. The mad officer suddenly stood straight up, hands raised in the air. From the shadows appeared his father, gun poised and pressed against Karas' head.
The knife slipped from his numb fingers. Tears poured down his face, as his relief rushed through him. He started sobbing again because they were saved, they were finally fucking safe. With hands still bound, awkwardly Carlos crawled over to James. The younger boy was lying on his side, facing away from Carlos, shoulders violently trembling.
He raised a shaking hand towards those shivering shoulders, recoiling slightly when James flinched away from him. Slowly he moved into the teen's line of sight.
"James?" he hesitantly asked and reached a trembling hand towards him again. Once more his touch was rejected as the younger boy shied away from him. Suddenly James peeled the duct tape off of his face. Quickly, but shakily James raised himself slightly, tears still streaming down his face and sobs catching in his throat. His emotions, his pain, his relief, his fear were so overwhelming, he leaned away from Carlos and puked all over the ground.
A stranger appeared out of nowhere, and rubbed James' back comfortingly, encouraging him to let it all out. Carlos instantly recognized the short brown hair and gentle brown eyes as belonging to his father's partner, Bonita.
James collapsed after that, and the only thing keeping the other boy from falling back to the dirt was Bonita's gentle hands. She glanced at Carlos, accessing him for injuries, before slowly lowering James to the ground.
Before the area was swarming with officers and paramedics, blankets were thrown over the boys' to hide their naked bodies.
He wanted to say something to James, anything, but the other boy's eyes were fixated on the dirty ground as he struggled just to breathe. Bonita pressed against his wound, throwing demands around for the paramedics to 'hurry the fuck up before the boy bled to death.'
James, barely conscious and violently ill, was immediately strapped down and carted away in a screaming ambulance before Carlos could even say a word to the traumatized teen.
But Carlos refused to leave just yet. Paramedics were all around and it made him, nervous, it terrified him. They were trying to bandage his shoulder, check for a concussion and stick needles in him. He panicked. In his wild struggle to get away, Carlos ended up kicking the paramedic tending him in the shin before taking off running.
As the paramedics shouted for him to come back, Carlos ran straight into the awaiting arms of his father.
He did not think it was possible for him to cry anymore. But when the warm, strong arms of his father wrapped around his cold, naked body, he lost it. The young child sobbed harder than he ever had in his entire life.
Officer Garcia was covered in the blood and tears of his own child, something a father should never have to endure.
When he'd gone out looking for the boys, the thought never crossed his mind that the boys were actually in danger. James' mother tended to be extremely overprotective of her only child, the only family she had left. But the kind young woman sounded so panicked and scared when she'd first called that he'd gone out looking for their sons.
Officer Garcia figured James and Carlos were just playing hooky, or, knowing those two, probably got sidetracked by something not even remotely interesting to normal people, but somehow very distracting to those two teenage boys.
They were strange, but he loved them both.
Never, not in their small decent town, did Officer Garcia ever think anyone could do this to a child, let alone a fellow police officer.
Karas abducted his child, used Carlos' friendship with James against him using manipulation and blackmail, terrified and tortured both boys. James almost died during surgery. Carlos would have a scar marring his shoulder for the rest of his life. Both boys were irrevocably damaged, paid in mental scars that would never heal. Someone that could that could do that to a child, well people like that shouldn't exist, he darkly thinks as he holds his child's hand.
For a brief second, his finger had hovered over the trigger. For a long moment in time, Officer Garcia seriously considered going against everything he believed in as a police officer just to shoot the bastard in the head for what he had done. He's not a cold blooded killer, but part of him is sad and disappointed that he didn't pull that trigger.
He was only slightly and sadistically satisfied knowing that it didn't matter which officer escorted Karas to jail, the ex-officer wouldn't make it there without a vicious beating. And even if he did, by morning it would be widely known amongst his fellow prisoners that Karas was a pedophile and a rapist.
Despite their lot in life, and twisted disposition, prisoners did not look kindly on pedophiles and did not hesitate to deal out punishment as they saw fit. And there were those who would not hesitate to seek revenge against the former officer. With grim satisfaction, he dwelled briefly on this fact as he stared at the pale, bruised face of his youngest child.
Despite his tight grip on his father's hand, the boy had been so upset when he'd been wheeled into the E.R that the doctor's had been forced to sedate him. The same was true for James who was sobbing so hysterically he'd made himself sick more than once.
Last Garcia saw, for her child's sake, Katarina Diamond was just barely holding it together.
Garcia couldn't blame Katarina for almost falling apart. Katarina was just seventeen years of age when she migrated from Russia to America, seven months pregnant with James. She always said James was the only thing in her life worth living for. She left her country and the only home she had ever known after the boy's father raped her.
With only a few English words in her arsenal, Katarina started over again in America. She worked hard and had managed to make a fairly decent life for her and her child. Katarina thought she left the horrors of her home behind her.
But it was not so. And now her son suffered the same fate as her. Garcia's son as well. While Katarina was heartbroken, her dream of a safe life for her child, shattered by the cruelty of one man, Garcia felt only hatred for the person who could do such a thing to children. Because no matter how much they protested the idea, James and Carlos were still, but children. Young and innocent and carefree.
But not anymore.
Garcia pulled a favor from on old friend to keep him informed about the case. When the news came in, later that night as he sat by his unconscious son's bedside, that James had been raped by more than one person, it didn't take Garcia long to figure out that other person was his son.
His son had been forced to rape his best friend. No child, no person, should ever have to be forced into that situation. If their friendship survived past this event, he would be very surprised.
He knew James. James would never blame Carlos for doing what he had to do. But he'd dealt with plenty of victims in his life that just couldn't look at the other victims and not be reminded of what had been done to them. So they broke off any ties with the person to forget the pain.
Carlos would be devastated if he didn't have James to help pull him through this, and James he knew, would be too.
Garcia leaned over his son, and kissed his child's forehead. In his heart was an ache that rivaled Katarina's.
He leaned back in his chair. For the first time in fourteen years, Officer Garcia cried.