Shit.

White t-shirt, blue jeans, blonde hair. There was no mistaking Chris Chambers. And that's why I panicked as I made out his figure walking across the lawn from my bedroom window. He didn't look up at me to signal that he was here, somehow. Usually, he'd throw a stone at my window and he'd never miss. He simply walked towards the door, head down.

My dad didn't approve of any of my friends. Chris especially. I knew that he hated when I brought them home, so I had stopped doing that, as much as it annoyed them. Chris especially. I couldn't pretend that I wasn't home, just to stop him from coming in. Besides, my parents were home too, so they'd know anyway.

I could only hope that Chris would keep his voice down and refrain from touching anything in the house. Either that, or just accept the wrath of my dad afterwards. That's the only time he didn't ignore me. When he wanted to call me out on something. I had grown used to how this family worked after Denny's death. But just because I had grown accustomed to it, it didn't make it any better or any more bearable.

When I heard the hard knock on the door downstairs, I considered leaving my room quickly to get to the door first. Perhaps I could walk straight out of the house and come up with an excuse as to why we can't stay indoors. We could go to the treehouse. But one of my parents had gotten there first because just seconds later, I heard Chris' voice. "Is Gordie home?"

There was a mumbling, a pause, another mumbling, and then hurried footsteps nearing the top of the stairs. I tossed a few things from my bed, clearing it so Chris had somewhere to sit.

"Hey," I said as the door opened, my attention on the magazine I had been reading earlier before I had taken a break to look outside and noticed Chris.

The door closed in reply and when Chris said nothing, I looked up to make sure it was really him.

"Shit, Chris, what happened?" He wasn't looking at me. In fact, it was pretty damn clear that he was trying to avoid eye contact. But I could see his face clearly. Every angle and defined feature, the curving tip of his nose... right to the bruise circling his right eye.

He did his best to shrug it off. Tough Chris Chambers with his 'who gives a shit?' attitude. But there was more to this, otherwise he wouldn't have been standing in my bedroom.

"Sit down." I closed my magazine and sat up, eyeing him and hoping that he'd say something to break the silence. I didn't know what to expect. He'd either pretend that everything was okay or he'd release everything he had been bottling up. Because he did bottle things up and I knew it more than I knew how much he wanted to leave this place.

I was relieved when he came and sat by my side. For a moment, I was convinced that he'd let his anger out on the things in my bedroom. What would my dad say then?

He was still silent, though the expression on his face suggested that he wanted to say something. I gave him a gentle nudge in the arm and tried to encourage him. "Chris, what happened? Are you-"

"That fucking bastard." Chris cut me off with three breathless words and I knew he was about to cry. Probably because he was so angry. "That fucker." His voice broke and my prediction was correct. Tears stained the fresh bruise which decorated his eye.

That 'fucker' was Chris' dad. I knew it as soon as I had spotted the shiner. Either his dad or his brother. But he never looked so bothered, so upset, when he had fought with his brother.

I frowned. I didn't know what to say. There wasn't much to say. I knew his situation at home and I knew that he was always at risk of getting a beating from his dad, whether he had done something to deserve it or not. I sighed and my arm automatically fell around his shoulders. The same one-armed hug he always offered to comfort me and any of his friends.

"He's so fucking selfish." Chris spoke up after a few moments of silence. He had stopped sobbing, but his cheeks were still wet with tears. His voice was low and a little croaky, a little reluctant too - as if he wasn't sure whether to invite me into his problems or not. "I've never, ever, known someone so-" He trailed off, obviously unsure of how to complete his sentence.

"What happened?" I asked quietly. My eyes were fixed on him, though he seemed adamant to keep his own gaze elsewhere, anywhere, as long as he wasn't looking back at me.

He shook his head before letting it fall into the palms of his hands.

My stomach dropped. I hated seeing Chris upset. It was because it was a rarity. He rarely let his pretence slip, even though I knew he wasn't as brave as he liked to think he was. Chris believed he could protect anyone around him, deserving of protection anyway. He needed to be protected too, but he wouldn't admit that to himself. Ever.

"I need to get away from here," Chris mumbled into his hands, but I managed to understand each word.

I rubbed his shoulder. "You could stay here, but..." I frowned. I didn't particularly want to finish my words.

"I know." Chris glanced up at me. "Your dad would hate that. It's okay. I don't want to stay here though, Gordie. In this town. I need to get out."

I didn't know what to suggest. It sounded as though Chris was up for running away and I wouldn't put it past him. But we were only fifteen years old, in the second year of Junior High. Even Chris, who was the most mature and grown up thirteen year old I knew, wouldn't be able to survive out there alone. We had nothing. No money, no place to go.

I didn't want him to go. He'd go alone because he'd want me to stay in education, achieve whatever I can and meet my aspirations. He'd go alone because he'd want me to stay at home with my parents. They'd lost a child already. But if he went, he'd never come back.

"Then let's get out of here." I said suddenly, forming a plan in my mind as I spoke. I didn't want Chris to run away because I wouldn't be able to let him do it by himself. Even if I stayed here, it wouldn't be the same without him. He was the one who made Castle Rock seem less boring and actually bearable. He made long days better and good days good and bad days not so bad.

"What?" He was still looking up at me. Now, his brows were furrowed in question and confusion.

"Let's get out of here." I repeated. "Just for a while. For a weekend." We'd done it before, why not once more?

For the first time since he had arrived, a soft smile broke the sullen exterior. He nodded.

Chris had stayed the night.

After trying everything I could to cheer him up, at least slightly, I had gone downstairs to make us a drink. My mom asked about Chris. She must have noticed the bruise too. It was hard to miss the obnoxious colours of blue, pink and purple. While she had opened the topic, I decided to steal my chance and go ahead and ask. I just couldn't send Chris home, even if it meant camping out in the treehouse instead. She agreed to it. One night only though.

We had settled down early. We shared my bed. We had to top and tail and it was a pretty tight squeeze, but we managed. In just a few hours, we'd be sleeping in much more uncomfortable conditions, so we'd have to get used to it.

The next morning came and we both suffered with aches in our backs, shoulders and necks. After a few hours, we'd forgotten about those and moved on to packing our things instead. We learned from our mistake and remembered the food. I managed to near enough empty the fridge and cupboards in the kitchen, hiding the food and drinks in my bag instead, without getting caught. I told my mom that we were staying at Teddy's for the weekend, though we hadn't spoke to him for quite a while. She didn't know any better and took my word as gospel.

It was like déjà vu. We left Castle Rock and made it to the tracks. We were practically re-tracing the steps of our last adventure, but we didn't mind and we weren't in a hurry. Chris and I weren't searching for a missing body, we were getting away. We were enjoying our time away from broken households and the lifeless town we lived in. It was grand.

The sun was disappearing from the sky and we had been walking all day. We'd only stopped once to sit down for fifteen minutes. The water we carried had grown warm and stale and it was no longer a form of refreshment; just a reminder of how tired we were and how quickly the heat had been swallowing us. But as the sun set, the whole atmosphere around us was much cooler and we found a patch in an opening in the trees and set up for the evening.

"This is great," Chris muttered, a cigarette between his lips. He seemed to be in higher spirits and I was glad. He still hadn't told me what had happened, though I suppose I already knew. It was normal for his dad to lash out at him for no apparent reason once he had had a drink. Then again, it was also normal for that to occur during his dad's rare sober moments.

I smiled and inhaled on my cigarette. "It is," I agreed.

For the rest of the evening, we spoke nonsense. We also spoke about school work, but that was very brief and Chris changed the subject as soon as he could. We spoke about people we had to put up with in school and the girls in school who had shown us any form of attention. We spoke about Teddy and Vern until the sky grew black and the only light source was the poorly built fire between us and the tips of our cigarettes.

"Chris?" I broke the silence.

"Yeah, Lachance?"

"What happened?" I tossed my cigarette end onto the floor and eyed Chris curiously. Chris could deal with almost anything his dad threw at him. His fist, words, anything. It was unusual to seem him so... affected.

"My fucking dad punched me in the face, what do you think?" His tone wasn't harsh, in fact, it seemed as though he was trying to make the conversation humorous.

I sighed and crossed my legs, still staring at him intently. "No, seriously, Chris. Why were you so upset?"

"Isn't that a good enough reason?" I couldn't tell whether he was irritated.

"Yeah," I nodded, "yeah, it is. But I've never seen you upset after a fight with your dad. I thought you were used to it."

"Used to it?" Chris let out a short laugh and began to set up his bed.

"You know what I mean."

"Sure I do, Gordie."

Frowning, I copied Chris and laid out my covers and pillows. I was tired after the walk and welcomed sleep already. I didn't even know what time it was and I had no intention of checking. What was the point? We weren't aiming to get somewhere by a certain time. We were aiming to get away from home. As far as possible.