Heavy breathing.

"How often do you have these… dreams? Is there anything special you do before bed on the nights you have them?"

Sirens. Footsteps rushing towards him.

Dr. Bambillo shuffled his notes. Cleared his throat. Readjusted his watch. Anything to fill in these empty spaces. He hated empty spaces. The came so damn often with this kid.

Rustles against the floorboards as he dragged himself towards the exit. The heat still lapping at his left foot. Was it his foot? His leg. It was his leg. He couldn't feel his foot anymore.

Dr. Bambillo started calculating how many more years until he could retire. Maybe he'd just do it early.

Arms hooking themselves under his armpits, pulling him up and out.

"He's still in there! He's still in there! JOHNNY!"

"Well, it looks like our time's up," Dr. Bambillo said finally, letting out an internal sigh of relief. Lawrence hadn't said a word the entire session. What was the point of sending the brat to therapy if he wasn't going to talk?

Peanut looked up. His eyes had been fixated on a spot of mustard on Dr. Bambillo's shirt the whole time. He'd been spacing out, and he knew it. The dreams weren't just limited to his time asleep nowadays.

"I'm prescribing you Prozac. Side effects may be nausea, drowsiness, insomnia… but if you say you're having nightmares, I can't imagine how that'd be an issue."

He tossed the prescription note into Peanut's lap as if it were a dead bug before stepping away to the desk in the room, probably writing out the big fat bill he'd be sending to the school. "Don't worry about payment. I'll send this to the academy myself."

Kid would probably lose it, anyway.

The doctor strode over to the door and pulled it open, staring at him. Peanut took it as his cue to leave.

He wheeled past the doctor wordlessly, just as he'd been the whole session. He rolled past the secretary at the front, past the other patients waiting to have prescriptions chucked at them. Not one of them stood to open the door for him. He didn't care. He pushed it open with one hand and, struggling, wheeled himself out with the other.

Norton waited outside in his car. It wasn't anything special-a decommissioned police car his father had convinced the chief to sell to him rather than send to the dump, repainted to look like a normal car. But it still had the sirens on top. They didn't work, of course, but they were there.

Peanut smirked at the irony.

Norton stepped out of the car and helped Peanut into the passenger seat, and then placed the wheelchair in the trunk. He got back in and started on the way back to New Coventry. He was the only one of the gang with a car, so driving Peanut around for therapy and physical therapy had fallen to him. He didn't mind. It was part of his leader responsibilities.

"How'd it go?" Norton asked after a few miles. He knew better than to pry immediately.

"I didn't say anything. He gave me Prozac."

"Are you going to take them?"

"No."

"Okay."

And that was the end of that conversation, and they were quiet for the rest of the ride.

Since the Tenements were gone, the boys had been shacking up at the pool hall instead. They'd gotten it back from Hopkins. He would've been a real asshole if he'd kept it after what happened.

They drove past what was left of the building on the way.

"Don't look."

Peanut looked.

"C'mon Johnny, you're drunk. You need some rest, man. Just put the cigarette out and go to sleep."

"You're not my dad, kid. I'll do as I damn please."

Shuddering, he turned away as best as he could.

There was no parking spot at the pool hall, so Norton pulled in on the grass and within seconds the boys were rushing out to help Peanut out. He'd protested the first few times-no, that was a lie. He hadn't said anything the first few times. He'd protested after that. Now he'd resorted back to not saying anything.

After a bit of a production, they'd finally managed to all be seated in the pool hall, beers handed out.

"I saw Lola out with Gord today, fucking slut," Hal muttered after a few beats of silence, setting the tone for the conversation. They'd be bashing Lola.

Again.

"She didn't deserve Johnny," Lefty shot back, taking a sip of his beer. "Bitch can't even wait til grass grows over the grave?"

Peanut sat in silence, staring at the static on the television Lucky was trying to get working. Lola wasn't welcome with them anymore.

Bored, he began wheeling himself towards the makeshift bedroom they'd placed for him in the closet.

"Going to bed so soon, Larry?" Lucky called after him, looking up.

"I'm tired," Peanut lied, rolling in and shutting the door behind him.

Nightmares were better than talking about him or Lola any longer.