Prologue
Leaving Everything Behind Us
November 31, 1996
"How could you?" Katherine Knight gasped, her tears falling down like diamonds on the tiling. "You're just going to leave him here? Like you don't love him?" She was borderline shrieking now, having to be restrained by her mother from delivering a face-mashing blow. Jennifer Mitchell only gave Katherine a low glare that practically yelled I'm sorry but Katherine couldn't pull herself to even have her mind remotely think about forgiving her. After what she had laid out for them.
"I love that boy out there. Don't you ever forget that. That boy is my son." Jennifer, crying through her words, pointed out the window, where outside, her little boy play. Although skittish, Logan was the type to make friends easy, and Kendall, his current playmate, was no different. Jennifer went on, "I love him. I do. I just. I can't keep him with me anymore. I can't."
"No. That boy's not yours anymore. He's not." Katherine dared cross the line. "He's mine now. So, you go. You just leave. But don't you dare even think about coming back. Not for a hello, not for a goodbye, not for any reason in the world."
Jennifer gave one look at Katherine, and took her weeps into her hands. She then spun on her heels, walked down the street, and boarded her taxi cab to who knows where. All Katherine could do was fall apart in her mother's arms. Jennifer was the nicest person Katherine had ever come to know. She was kind, and loving. She taught Logan so many things, things about being nice to others, staying away from horrid people. She was medically trained and probably was wealthy enough to support Logan and whatever she needed to take care of in Iowa. The two used to be best friends. But no. Not anymore.
She left.
She left behind Logan and everything about him, driving off as Logan and Kendall danced in the gray overcast and the snow falling before their eyes. All of Minnesota was coated heavily in ice and snow, the snowflakes like butterflies, bouncing against the wind. And Jennifer's taxi cab took off with only a trail that would disappear come morning.
Logan and Kendall grew weary, but Katherine never stopped crying. Never did she open her eyes, for hours and hours on end, but when Logan and Kendall sluggishly threw themselves inside, they figured that the day was finally coming to a happy close.
But no.
"I think it's time for me to go home now." Logan tugged on Katherine's blouse hours later, the front lightly stained with black mascara. "Where's Mommy?"
Katherine stood and stared at Logan, her eyes ready to burst from their sockets, her heart sinking deeper than any ship the Krakken could take down. Instantly, she took Logan into her arms, kneeling, crying and whimpering in the four-year-old's arms. All Logan did was hug his newfound mother back, wondering what the commotion was all about. Katherine had to murmur, "Mommy's gone, baby. I'm Mommy now, okay? Mommy's gone. Mommy's gone. I'm sorry."
Logan broke away from the hug and gave Katherine a pair of eyes, riddled with despair and confusion. "Where's Mommy? Where is she? Why is she not here?" He kept shrieking, as he ran into the empty guest room, pulling out the boxes they took to this new home, crying tears and causing a riot, lashing about the suitcases, throwing around the wardrobe.
Katherine just about died when she entered the room, watching Logan, for the first time in his very young life, break his shell and go on a full-on attack. Katherine, with all the might she could muster, swept Logan into her arms, and hugged him tighter. "Mommy's gone. But I'm Mommy now. Okay? I'm Mommy now." Logan, weak and bruised, turned to Jell-O in Katherine's arms.
"Mama? Why is Logie screaming?" A new youthful voice popped in. When he saw his mother's tears he almost cried himself, too, then when he saw Logan's he couldn't help but whimper a bit. "Why are we crying?" He squeaked, his tears now flowing.
"Kendall, baby. Come here, okay? I need to talk to you both." He took both boys and sat them down next to each other, cross-legged. Logan sat, whimpering and shivering hands dug in between his legs, letting out occasional moans of despair, as Kendall sat, wiping his tears, confused and dazed. "You two... you two are each other's very best friends now. Do you understand me? Logan, Mommy is gone, okay, baby? It's hard, I know, but it's okay, you know why?"
Logan looked up longingly. "...why?"
"Because I'm going to take care of you now. Me." She gave him a sympathetic smile. "And Mr. Knight, of course... oh, and Kendall, too. You two are going to be best friends. Even if you fight. You're always going to be best friends."
Kendall glanced at Logan, let some more tears fall, and reached into his lap for his new friend's hand. Kendall squeezed it tight, as Logan glanced back at Kendall, and a small trace of blush forming on both of their cheeks.
Kendall silently mouthed to himself, smiling. "Best friends."
December 11, 1996
"Get out!" Emily Diamond cried, bruised from several blows to the face and arms. "Get out, get out, get out!" She now carried a metal baseball bat, swinging violently at her attacker, already bashing the man's arm to the point of a bloody mess, spread about the steps on the stairs.
"I'm the best thing that has ever happened to you! How're you supposed to pay for the house? And that gay little brat?" He pointed an accusative finger at a four-year-old James, who stood innocently behind the balcony, clutching the poles, allowing confused tears to shower out of his eyes. He panted heavily, waiting for his mommy to hug daddy and they would kiss (even though it was icky), then tuck him into bed, kissing his forehead like they used to.
But James, lately, had to do much of his own tucking in.
And tonight, he knew that he would never be tucked in again. Emily took a heavy blow to her husband's stomach, as he knelt at the porch, gasping for air. His diaphragm was now crushed, leaving Emily in a fit of rage as he kicked him down and shut the door with a slam. Instantly, she dropped the bat, spun around, and discovered James, wailing and asking, "Why, mommy, why?"
She instantly rushed up the steps to reach James at the balcony, taking him into a warm embrace. "Oh, Jamie, I'm so, so sorry you had to see that. I'm so sorry, babe. But we have to go, alright? We have to leave."
"Where, mommy? Where?" James whimpered. "Why do we have to go, mommy?"
"We have to leave because..." She paused, visualizing her pained husband. "Because daddy hurt mommy."
"It's okay, we don't have to go, I can just get you a Band-Aid in the bathroom." James said, wiping his tears and releasing the hug to look his weeping mother in the face.
She couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, and wipe away a few tears, only for more to come pouring down, hitting the shag carpet. "No, sweetheart, this is the kind of hurt that people need to go away for them to heal. You'll understand when you get older, okay, hun?"
James couldn't help give his mother another stubborn look. "I like it here. New York is fun. It's big. Miss Daley says its the biggest in the whole entire nations. I don't know what nations means, but I know it's big because we live here and I saw'd it."
Emily took her son into another hug, whimpering more. "I'm sorry, but we'll be visiting a new place, okay? It snows a lot there. A lot more than New York. And you'll have a friend there. A nice friend. He's going to be better than any other friend you have ever, ever met."
"Are you sure he won't pick on me?"
"No, he won't, babe. He won't."
"All the other boys pick on me at preschool. They think I'm a girl. They push me into the girls' bathroom. I don't like the girls' bathroom. It smells funny."
"He won't hurt you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, honey, yes." She couldn't help but chuckle a little bit more, and wipe a few more tears, watching her son's youthful face. His long, oak hair, pushed away from his face. His bright, brown eyes glowing with a new happiness. "Now go pick out the toys you want to bring with you. And make it snappy, okay, babe? We've gotta split."
"Yes, mommy." James gave his mom a quick kiss and ran off to his room nearby, leaving the door open as his mother always requested, even before this incident occurred. He began throwing all his toys into a pile in the middle of his room, leaving behind his Hot Wheels in the crevices of his closet and keeping his junior microphone set. He had big plans for a boy who hadn't even begun grade school.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Emily dialed in a number like lightning, calling her only possible place to stay. After three eternal rings, an answer.
"Hello?" The voice asked.
"Hey, Kathy." For the first time again, Emily began bawling, now in the attention of her friend. "I know that Logan just moved in, and with Jennifer and everything, but. But, I just."
"What is it, Em? I'll do anything for you, girl, you know that." Katherine responded.
"You were right." Emily admitted.
"Oh, no. Tell me he didn't cheat on you. Tell me I was wrong. Tell me you're joking."
"You were right, Kath. You were right." Emily took her face into her hands, now broken down to a fetal position on the floor of the kitchen. "He pretended like he loved us, he pretended like he cared."
"Take the Lexus. It's under your name. I'll clear a room, okay?"
"Thank you." Emily murmured in a whimper.
"I love you, Emily. Stay strong, okay? For James."
"I will. Bye."
"Bye, babe."
Dial tone. Emily didn't even bother getting up from the kitchen floor, her tears surfacing against her cheeks. She closed her eyes, her bawls never stopping. James slowly walked into the kitchen, his heart turning to lead seeing his mother weeping on the floor. He checked her stomach- still pulsating. She was still alive, no matter how much she didn't want to be. James approached, laid himself down across from his mother, and the two slowly drifted off to sleep, still unpacked.
But the next morning, the minute they would wake, they would leave behind that godforsaken city where it all came crashing down.
December 14, 1996
He was in pain again.
Well, at least his ass was. He knew that much. But at that age, he didn't know what was going on. He just knew that it hurt. His ass hurt. A lot. He didn't know what his uncle had to gain from making him do the things he did in that bedroom, but he expected this "punishment" as he accidentally slammed his tricycle to the side of his car, denting it even in the slightest of ways. In the morning, he would make him buff it.
But he lay there, naked and in pain, whimpering to himself, wishing it would stop. He didn't know what form of punishment this was called, but it hurt. A lot. His uncle had finally gotten tired and stopped, laying lazily next to him, and he felt around his own butt and checked his fingers under the blue light of the moon. No blood. Not tonight, at least. He was somewhat relieved at the fact that it wasn't bleeding, but it may as well have been.
To be redundant, it hurt.
A lot.
It got harder and harder for him to move after his uncle took him into his room almost nightly and forced young little Carlos Rodriguez to do things, inhumane to the typical man, but Carlos didn't really know any better. All he knew was that it hurt. A lot.
And all his uncle had in mind was taking advantage of the four-year-old.
Tonight was different, though. He did the same things, sure. He was numb from the legs down, fine. All that was what he could deal with. But tonight, he resisted. Tonight, there was that much more pain. His uncle's grip was tougher, his scratches were deeper, and he sure as hell wasn't bleeding out of his ass, but his sides were gnashed and his body ached so much. He would usually be immune after an hour, but this was different. This time, his mother found out.
And if his mother ever found out, his uncle would kill her.
And Felicia Rodriguez was the only person on this Earth that Carlos believed loved him.
"What have you done to my child?" She shrieked, as she saw her beloved little boy, undressed, panting, shivering, and weak. His sides were cut, but the blood had stopped pouring, and she could tell that Carlos only had enough strength to keep his eyelids open.
"Felicia, it's..." He was at a loss of words. "...it's not what it looks like."
Felicia ran across the room and trampled her brother-in-law, wrestling him to the ground, grabbing his neck like an alligator's mouth. Although futile, her attempt to take him down was effective, as she managed to get in two punches in the face before she was thrown off. Instantly, she reached for the thick lamp just within her arm's reach, and smashed it clean on her brother-in-law's head, causing only a cut onto his head and a clean knock-out. She knew he was still alive though, and she quickly left his unconscious body to tend to Carlos.
"Carlos, mijo, are you okay? What did he do to you?"
All Carlos could muster was a slight groan. Tears had begun to crash down from her eyes, as she grabbed her weak son and held him tight."...m-mami?" He groaned.
"What, mijo, what is it? Are you okay?"
"I want to go away." He said, all his strength used in those few words.
"Of course, baby, of course. We'll leave and we'll never, ever come back again." Felicia promised her son.
Felicia called 911 the minute Carlos opened his eyes fully, and lay still on his uncle's bed, praying to God that the man wouldn't wake up. He had heard the crash of the lamp against his uncle's head, and he was surprised that he wasn't dead. But his mother said he wasn't, and who was he to not trust his mother in a situation like this?
The police and the paramedics came in an instant, promising Felicia that since her brother-in-law wasn't dead, and he was regularly molesting Carlos, she wouldn't be charged whatsoever. Carlos, upon hearing this, found it hard to understand. But the police officer looked up at the now wide awake young Carlos in the gurney, and said, "Your mom's not going to jail. And you're never going to see your tio again."
Carlos tried to smile, but couldn't find the life inside him to, so instead, he uttered, "Gracias." And waved at the police officer, then at his mom, then laid his head down against the gurney to relax. The paramedics, though, stripped him again of his baby blue medical scrubs, and he fidgeted a bit when they swabbed him in the inappropriate places where his uncle would touch.
They promised him that they wouldn't hurt him. Luckily, they didn't, and Carlos tried to gulp down an ounce of his fear.
Fear didn't taste good, nor did it swallow well. They then asked him all sorts of questions that he tried his best to answer, with all exhaustion flowing in his being.
"How long has he been doing this?" His paramedic started off with a serious attitude, his eyebrows thick and sandy to match his slicked back hair. He had various wrinkles on his face, but his laugh lines were the most prominent. Carlos liked that about some old people. But it took a while for Carlos to draw up enough breath to utter out an answer to his question.
"I remember the first time was a long times ago. When it was hot outside."
"That's a long time."
"Not really. It went by fast."
"Do you feel sick at all, after he would do these things to you?"
"It always hurt right after, like, right after. But after that, I feelded the same." He recalled the cold inability to move his legs, his bare body, and his sore muscles. He remembered the horrible feeling he would get when something would enter him, the pain and the toil that no four-year-old boy should ever have to endure, not at an age like his.
"Did he ever put something over his... um, peepee...before he did these things to you?" Carlos didn't even snicker what his paramedic said peepee. He knew for a fact that it was not the time, and all strength that he had left, he needed for answering the questions issued.
"Yeah. I don't know why, though."
"Okay, well that's good."
"How?" Carlos looked at his paramedic with genuine concern.
"That means everything, from now on, is going to be okay." He took Carlos's hand and ran circles around his tiny hand with his thumb.
"No." Carlos said bluntly.
"No? Why not, bud?" His paramedic half-smiled, as Carlos then broke their bond of eye contact, and looked wistfully off into the distance.
"Because my mom used to say that to me every night before bed time. And I don't think I'm okay now." He laughed when he finished his sentence, although his tiny grip on his paramedic's hand tightened.
"Hey, keep your head up." His paramedic thought of a more positive question. "Where did your mom say she was taking you?"
"Um, mini soda." Carlos smiled a proud smile. He was happy he could remember the place he was going to move directly after his checkup that night. Where he was to stay, he really had no idea, but he was glad that he was starting over. Without his angry uncle.
"Mini soda?" His paramedic chuckled. Carlos nodded diligently. "I think you mean Minnesota."
"Yeah, yeah, that's the real-life name. I don't know nobody there. But... mami says she's got a friend there."
Meanwhile, his mother rode in the police car, out of the situation that there was no room inside the paramedic car. She sat at the shotgun seat, her heart worrying for her young son, but her mind focused on the police officer. "Thank you again, for being so noble, officer." Stress lined her tone.
"Please, Miss. It was all in a day's work." He smiled. He had chocolate brown skin, definitely a tan from Mexico, and long midnight black hair. He had a shining white motorcycle helmet on, although he was driving around in a state unit vehicle. He seemed quirky and noble, a lot like her son, a risk-taker, and a fun-lover, the men Felicia was greatly attracted to. A person who was a variety all in all.
"I never got a name, though."
"Officer Julian Garcia, ma'am. Pleased to meet you." He introduced, his voice prominent, yet easy to listen to.
"Julian Garcia." Felicia repeated quietly, suddenly captured by Officer Julian's name.
"Yes. Tell me yours, now." Julian replied cleverly.
"Felicia Rodriguez." She smiled for the first time that night.
"What a beautiful name." His eyes began to glimmer. "Where have you decided on staying? You know, to run away for a while?"
"Well, I've had my eyes on a real estate location in Minnesota."
"Minnesota? That's..." He sputtered his lips playfully. "Pretty far from here."
"Two states away."
"Next time I'm up there, I'll look you up, miss."
"I'll probably have a house by then, but in case I don't, look up Katherine Knight. She'll be my host for the time being."
"You two have been friends long, I presume."
"Yeah, since we were little girls. It was me, our friends Emily, Jennifer, and her, Kathy. We were the best of friends."
"Why is it a were? Why not are?"
"Oh, well we all met wonderful men and got married."
"So... you're married."
"Widowed." Her voice grew somewhat quiet. "Rosario was murdered. Although, I regret nothing from his death, nor did I mourn. He was not an honorable man. Smoking in front of our boy, showing him horrible things like naked women and shooting people. Little boys should be watching football with their fathers, and fishing. Not everything Rosario was giving him. I don't even like bearing his name anymore."
"I'm very sorry Carlos had to endure that."
"It wasn't your fault. The only thing I cried about when he died was all the years I wasted trying to make myself believed I loved him. Time well wasted, I might add."
"Ah, that's in the past. What matters is now." Julian gave Felicia a hopeful smile, causing Felicia to go red in the cheeks and return the smile. He continued, "And Jennifer? Emily?"
"Jennifer got married to a very good man. They raised their young son very, very well."
"But..."
"But Michael, Jennifer's husband, disappeared. She couldn't raise Logan and left her with Kathy, just recently, actually. I, for one, find that extremely irresponsible. But then again, Jennifer wasn't always the most responsible person."
"And Emily, what of her? She sounds sweet."
"She is, by God, she is. But recently, her husband was just caught cheating on her. She's over at Kathy's now, too."
"Dear Lord, you girls are going through one hell of a rough patch. All at the same time, too? With the holidays coming up? You've got your hands full. Next time you need a helping hand, you just call. Even if I'm far here and you far there. Just call."
"I just might take you up on that offer." Felicia could see a new life in this man.
She looked into the reflection cast on his black sunglasses hanging from his collar, and she saw herself, youthful and happy. Beside her was Carlos, also just as youthful, and also just as happy. She felt something for this man, and for once, even after through her tough mortgage payments, and her sexually abusive brother-in-law, she made herself smile just knowing that Officer Garcia was with her in that police car, escorting her to the hospital where her son will be healed. In him, she saw hope.
Felicia Garcia. Felicia Garcia and Julian Garcia. Julian Garcia and Felicia Garcia.
Carlos Garcia.
She liked the sound of that.
Warning: This fanfiction contains child abuse, spousal abuse, incest rape, blood, violence, and use of the word "ass." Please leave if this does not suit your fancy.
A/N: I know, I know, I should be focusing on "When We Met" but my mother told me the most saddening story to ever be told about my family, so yes, these thoughts I'm going to write down here are based of true family events. I'm sort of the little Katie in this story, as I came in during the middle of all this ruckus. But still, this piece is especially important to me, so it would do me a great honor if you reviewed kindly. Thanks.
Right now, there's no established slash pairings, but there will be some, I promise. There will be lovey-dovey goodness in the midst of all this drama. And yes, I named Mrs. Knight Katherine as my mother's name is Emelia which greatly coincides with Emma, and Katherine goes with Katie. I always thought it was the coolest thing in the world to be like mommy.
Yes, James has an upstairs kitchen. I used to have one, too. Deal with it.
I still do. Which is why this piece is dedicated to her, as she is the Mrs. Knight in my story. Mrs. Knight, you'll be able to see, will go through so much pain and heartbreak, just as my mom has. I love you, mother, you sweet woman.
Read and review. Much appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own whatever you recognize. The story though, is mine. Okay? And it's extremely important to me. So, yeah.