A/N Hey everyone! Another chapter for you all! This chapter looks more into Chris's past and is quite dark. One bit in particular is quite horrific. ANYway thanx to everyone that reviewed and i hope you's like this chapter! xx
Chris opened the door reluctantly and quietly. He'd seen Rob's black van parked at the side of the road.
Why was he home so early?
He stepped into the dark hallway. The light bulb had burst months ago and Rob had never bothered to fix it. He listened out for Rob but he couldn't hear anything. This made him nervous. He stepped into the grimy kitchen with the full intention to get something to eat since all he'd had to eat all day was the packet of crisps in the morning. He opened the fridge and looked inside. He wrinkled his nose at the contents. There was a mouldy strawberry, a bottle of beer, leftovers of a tv dinner that were beginning to go off and milk that had been left so long that Chris was convinced that it was starting to turn into cheese. He closed the fridge with a sigh and walked over to the cupboard to get a packet of crisps. Suddenly he heard a door upstairs bang and then heavy footsteps came clomping down the stairs. Chris froze in fear as he listened to them. He put the packet back and stood waiting by the cupboard as Rob walked in. They looked at each other for a moment and Chris took in Rob's current appearance. He was wearing black trackies, a baggy white t-shirt with beer stains on it and he was sweating. He was always sweating.
"What are you looking at!" Rob snarled in his usual gruff voice.
He walked forwards and pushed Chris aside to get into the cupboard. Chris shook his head.
"Nothing." he mumbled.
Rob rustled in the bag that held the crisps.
"Why is there only three packets left!" He questioned angrily coming out the cupboard.
Chris shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." he mumbled quietly.
He did know why. He'd ate three packets over two days. But he'd had to eat something or he'd have ended up starving to death. He'd already lost six pounds in the last week. The weight was dropping off of him.
"What do you mean you don't know! There were six packets there on Friday! I didn't eat any so it must have been you!" Rob exclaimed taking a threatening step towards Chris.
God, why was he stressing so much over crisps?
"I was hungry." Chris said simply.
"So you thought you'd eat all the food did you!"
"Well maybe if you actually bought proper food once in a while, i wouldn't have to eat the only stuff that was left!" Chris retorted.
Rob's face contorted in anger and Chris knew he'd crossed the mark. Rob raised his huge fist and punched Chris across the face. Even though he'd tried to brace himself for the impact, the punch still knocked him off his feet and he fell to the ground, hitting the back of his head off the floor. Blood spurted out of his nose and he covered it with his right hand. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth against the pain. Rob could pack one hell of a punch. But he didn't cry out. He knew that Rob would just hit him harder for being a wimp if he did.
"You ungrateful little bastard!" Rob shouted, kicking Chris hard in the stomach and winding him.
"I give you a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in and you still complain!" Rob continued, kicking him again, this time in the chest.
He knelt down, with Chris between his legs, so that he could get to him properly. He raised his fist over Chris's face again and brought it down. Chris screwed his eyes shut again and raised his hands in a vain attempt to protect his face. He waited for the impact but nothing happened. Hesitantly he opened his eyes. Rob's fist was inches from his face but it seemed to be frozen in place. Chris took his hands away so he could get a better look. Rob's face was frozen in a furious expression, not moving at all. Chris shakily waved his hand in front of Rob's eyes but he didn't even blink. Chris gulped nervously, each breath shaky. He shuffled out from between Rob and stood up, using the counter for support. He looked at the frozen Rob in bewilderment.
What the hell!
Chris snapped out of his confused state and took the chance to get out of the kitchen. He ran upstairs and into the bathroom. He was already beginning to get light headed with the blood loss from his nose bleed and he needed to clean it up. He grabbed a handful of toilet paper from the roll and held it to his nose, pinching it. He stood like that for a couple of minutes and then took the toilet paper away. The nose bleed had stopped and he walked over to the sink. Running the tap, he splashed his face and washed away the blood traces. He hesitantly checked the back of his head for any blood but there was none. It was just painful and he winced. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror above the sink. His face had drained itself of all it's colour and he still had a fearful look in his eyes. Purple bruising was forming across his jaw from the punch the night before.
Chris thought about what had just happened. Was that even possible? Was Rob just faking it?...No, Rob wouldn't have done that. He was in such an angry state that nothing would have made him stop until he'd let all that anger out. Then how did that happen? Rob was downstairs in the kitchen, as frozen as a stone statue! How was that even possible!
It wasn't the first time that something weird had happened to Chris. Through his whole life, weird things would happen during times when he was feeling intense emotions. Normally when he was scared. He remembered when he was little, around 4 or 5 years old, and he was getting chased by a group of boys. He remembered how scared he'd been and how he'd wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. And then...he was. One minute he was running along the pavement, scared out of his wits and then the next he was in the garden of a house a couple of blocks away. He didn't know how it had happened but because he'd been so young at the time, Chris just figured his young mind had exaggerated it. Then another time when he was seven years old he was living with one of the worst sets of foster parents he'd had in the seven years he'd been alive. They hit him too. The woman, Grace Watson, used to scratch him with her long, red painted and made him have baths in ice cold water. She never let him eat with them with them and would give him the cold leftovers. She more mentally abused them than physically though. She'd tell him over and over again that he was worthless and that no-one would ever love him and after a while, he began to believe her. He'd even questioned the kindness and love of his parents that he'd dreamt up. If they'd loved him so much then why did they abandon him on a doorstep? But he'd broke out of that thinking when he'd been put back in a care home, and he went back to dreaming of parents that loved him more than anything in the world...
But it was a time before that that Chris remembered the most. Grace's husband, Jack Watson, had come home from work to find Chris's toys scattered about the living room. He had been so mad. He had picked Chris up by the front of the t-shirt, the collar cutting into his throat and choking him. Jack had shook him until he felt sick and the blood pounded in his ears. He'd been scared, really scared. And then Jack began choking. His tie was tightening around his throat for no reason and he dropped Chris. He'd had to cut the tie with a pair of scissors before he choked to death.
So weird stuff like Rob being frozen had happened before. But that didn't mean that it didn't make it any less freaky. Chris looked at his reflection and went deep into his own thoughts once again.
He wondered why he'd had so much bad luck with foster parents. Why was his social worker so incapable of finding non abusive foster parents that would love him and take care of him? Even when he was in the Care homes, he used to get picked on by the other kids because he was so small for his age. He guessed that was the start of him learning to take care of himself, not just when Rob started hitting him. But then again, maybe it was just him. Maybe there was something about him that made people just want to hurt him.
Chris was snapped out of his thoughts and he jumped as he heard Rob moving downstairs. He wasn't frozen any more! What could he do! Run? But run where! He'd have to go downstairs to get out and that's where Rob was. Chris backed up against the wall as he heard Rob climb the stairs. He then paused outside the bathroom door, listening. Chris watched the door fearfully. The door handle slowly turned...and the door swung open...
Wyatt climbed up the stone steps to his house and pushed open the wooden door.
"Hey i'm home!" he called through the house. His mom came through from the kitchen.
"Hey sweetie, good day at school?" she asked brightly.
Wyatt nodded trying to smile but failing miserably. Piper noticed and she frowned.
"What's wrong honey?" she asked walking over.
Wyatt shrugged and looked down. "I dunno, i just..."
"Just what?"
"I was just thinking about...Chris." he said looking up and into his mother's eyes.
Piper's shoulder's sagged and the pain of loss became evident in her chocolate brown eyes.
"What about him?" she asked, sounding like she was about to burst into tears at any moment.
"I was just thinking about how different life would have been if i'd grown up with him. He'd be what? Fourteen now?"
Piper nodded, the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Wyatt looked at her guiltily.
"I'm sorry mom, i didn't mean to upset you."
"No sweetie, it's okay. We don't talk about him enough, i don't think." she said giving him a small, watery smile.
She walked over to the living room and sat on the couch, gesturing with her hand for him to do the same. He walked over and sat beside her. He knew she was about to talk so he waited.
"When your brother was taken, i just...couldn't bear it. It was your dad that kept it together and got me through it. I just wanted to give up on everything. But i knew that i had to keep going for you because you deserved to have a happy childhood. It hurts me everyday to not have him here with us. I keep trying to imagine what he'd look like now, if he still has brown hair and the small freckle at the side of his nose...his beautiful green eyes. I always wonder what his personality is like. I've always imagined him as this confident, chatty kid that's always full of energy, you know? But we don't even know if he's still alive...I've always had this feeling that he is but...i'm not sure." Piper said. She'd taken hold of his hand when she started talking and she squeezed it gently.
"I've always had that feeling too." said Wyatt. "It's like we're connected somehow."
Piper looked at him. "Yea?"
Wyatt nodded.
"So what made you think about him today?" Piper asked.
"Well...there was this boy that i met today...he just reminded me of Chris. His name was Chris too but his second name was Brown. That's really what made me think about him. His name..." answered Wyatt.
Piper nodded. "So does this boy go to your school?"
"Yea i think so."
Suddenly they were interrupted by the door opening and Phoebe walking in.
"Hey you two! Everything okay?"
Piper and Wyatt nodded.
"I'm, uh, gonna go do my homework." said Wyatt standing up.
"Okay." said Piper quietly and she smiled up at him. He smiled back and left to go upstairs.
"Oh was i interrupting an important conversation?" Phoebe asked looking guilty.
Piper shook her head. "No it's okay Phoebe, we were just talking about...Chris." she finished quietly.
Phoebe eyes saddened and she looked at her sister sympathetically.
"Oh honey." she said sitting down beside Piper and putting a comforting arm around her shoulder's.
"It's okay Phoebe." Piper said smiling gratefully at her sister. "I'm fine, everything's fine."
Phoebe looked her in the eyes. "Really?"
Piper nodded.
"Really."
Chris groaned in pain and tried to open his eyes. They were sore and swollen but he eventually managed to open them. He took in his surroundings and realised he was lying on the hard bathroom floor. His whole body ached. Then he remembered.
Rob had swung open the door and saw him standing there. Then he'd flown into a huge rage and beat the shit out of him. He must have been knocked unconscious. Chris slowly sat up. He could taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and he spat onto the floor, trying to get rid of it. His head felt weird too and he felt tired...so tired... He just wanted to lie back down and go to sleep...
No. He'd had that feeling before and he knew what it meant. He had a concussion. He knew that if he gave into that feeling of sleepiness then there was a chance that he wouldn't wake up again. He fought against it and tried to concentrate on the task of standing up. Chris grasped the edge of the sink and tried to pull himself up. He had pains in his chest area and it hurt to breath...probably a few broken ribs...After around ten minutes, he managed to get shakily to his feet. He looked at his reflection. His face was already starting to bruise. His bottom lip was split and dried blood was left in a trail coming from his nose to the top of his lip. It had started to bleed again when Rob punched him in the face a couple of times. He had cuts and grazes to go with the bruises too but he wasn't sure how he got them. Possibly from the ring that Rob always wore.
Chris shakily lifted his t-shirt and saw large purple bruises starting to form across his stomach and chest. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep on his front for, at least, a couple of weeks. He tried taking smaller breaths because the pain was growing with every one he took in. He slowly bent down to knee level, gritting his teeth against the pain. He opened the cupboard under the sink and took out the antiseptic. He cleaned the cuts and grazes on his face, wincing at the sting of it. After he was finished, Chris put the bottle away and looked out the window that overlooked the overgrown garden. It was dark outside but it was getting lighter so Chris guessed that it was the early hours of the morning. He couldn't hear Rob anywhere in the house.
Probably drowning himself in alcohol in a club somewhere.
Chris sighed quietly and walked slowly out of the bathroom. The house had two bedrooms, one for each of them and Chris made his way to his. He walked inside and lowered himself gently on to his mattress. He didn't have a proper bed. It was just a mattress in the middle of the floor with a thin blanket to try and keep warm with during the winter nights. Chris lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
He'd always considered telling someone about the abuse that he suffered but he never did. For one thing, he was scared of what Rob would do to him if he told anyone and also he...well he kind of blamed himself.
Chris had saw Rob with other people and he acted totally different to them than he did with Chris. Whenever Rob was going out to meet someone he would always shower and put on clean clothes and he was always sober. He had lots of friends down the pub and he was even friendly to some other kids Chris's age. He got on with all the guys down his work too. But when it came to Chris he completely changed. Whenever he was alone with Chris he changed into the abusive, violent drunken man that Chris had known since he was nine years old.
So then...if Rob was so great with everyone else but not with him, then it had to mean it was something that he'd done right? It had to mean that he deserved to be hit everyday. Rob would never hit any of his friends so if he hit Chris like he had for the past 5 years then it had to mean he deserved it...right?...
It was the only reasonable explanation. If things had been different, then Chris would have probably thought that it was just Rob putting on a mask for his friends and showing his real self around Chris but he wasn't so sure about that. Rob wasn't the first foster parent to abuse him so a lot of people had had the same urge to hurt him and Chris was convinced that it had to be something that he'd done . Rob wasn't even the worst. Actually he was actually quite mellow compared to some of the people he'd had. The worst out of them all had to have been the one before Rob...
He still had nightmares about that man. Chris had been taken to him when he was eight years old, just two weeks after he'd been taken away from Grace and her husband. His name was Barry Shieldman. Chris hadn't stayed with him for long but it had been long enough. Other foster kids stayed there too and, even though they'd had to suffer the same thing, he was glad they'd been there because it meant he hadn't had to through it alone...
Chris had been there three weeks when Barry had started molesting him. He'd been playing alone in the bedroom that he shared with some of the other kids when Barry had came in. He'd watched Chris for a moment and then slowly walked over, smiling as Chris looked up at him. Then he'd sat on one of the beds and pulled Chris onto his lap. Chris hadn't been used to affection like that and had stiffened but then relaxed after a few moments. Then the rest was a hazy blur. All that Chris remembered was Barry whispering things to him as he put his hand under the waistband of Chris's jeans...
Chris had cried after that. He hadn't fully understood what Barry had done but he didn't like it. Then Barry did it again. And again, and again. The other kids had to go through it too but then Barry did something worse to him...much worse...
Chris had been sleeping in the spare room because he had a headache and the other kids would disturb him. Barry had come in drunk. Chris had heard him come in and cowered under the covers, knowing what was coming next. Barry had pulled the covers back, but instead of sitting down and pulling Chris onto his lap like he usually did he climbed on top of him. He had undone the belt on his jeans and pulled them down. Chris had tried to wriggle out from underneath him but Barry had pinned him down. Then he pulled down Chris's pyjama bottoms, kissing his small stomach as he went. Then he'd ran his hands over him, feeling him. His chest, his stomach...Chris remembered crying then. Then Barry had turned him over...
The pain had ripped through him and he had screamed and started sobbing but Barry had covered his mouth with one of his free hands, kissing his neck at the same time. It had lasted for around 15 minutes until Barry groaned loudly and cried out his name. Then he'd lay gasping for a moment, climbed off of him, put his jeans back on and left.
Chris couldn't remember how long he'd just lay there, staring glassy eyed at the wall. The event had traumatized him and now it still affected him. He hated people touching him, even if it was just a friendly pat on the arm because it reminded him too much of Barry's hands running possessively over his body...
Chris wasn't aware that he was crying until he felt his cuts and grazes sting as the tears rolled into them. He'd never told anyone that Barry had raped him, not even the other kids at that house that he'd befriended and learnt to trust. From what he gathered, Barry had never done it to any of the others and so he had felt like he couldn't relate to any of them on that level. He was lucky though. Barry never got a chance to do it again because a couple of days after the attack, two social workers came to take them all away because a complaint had been made by a teacher at the school they all attended. Apparently one of the kids, a little girl called Rosie, had told her about Barry when she'd been crying.
Chris wondered how she'd had the guts to tell the teacher anything. But then again, maybe she had been so upset at the time that it had just slipped out. Chris had been so tempted over the last couple of weeks to phone Valerie and tell her what was going on but he knew he'd just get moved onto someone else and that person could end up to be even worse than Rob. They would probably be nice at first and then they'd start to get frustrated with him and then the abuse would begin.
That's how it went with Rob. Valerie had explained to him about his experiences in foster care and he'd been great for the first couple of weeks. He really had. He made Chris laugh, something he hadn't done in years, and Chris thought that this time would be different. But he was wrong. After a few months Rob changed and then he started hitting him. At first he would go back to Chris and apologise and say he would never hurt him again but he did. Now he didn't even bother to try and be nice to him when he saw him.
Chris winced as he turned onto his side. He knew he should probably go to the hospital. The bones could end up healing wonky and he could end up in a lot more pain than he was now. He slowly sat up and shakily got to his feet. It took him 10 minutes just to walk downstairs but he eventually got there and he left the house, not bothering to lock the door behind him.
At the hospital he sat on the examination table as the nurse checked him over. She pressed gently on his rib cage area and took note of how many times he winced or said it hurt. She then checked to see if he had a concussion but telling him to follow her finger. He found it difficult and she took note of this too before checking for any more broken bones.
"So how did this all happen?" she asked as she checked his legs for any sign of breakage.
"I slipped and fell down the stairs." Chris made up. He'd thought the explanation up when he'd been sitting in the waiting room at A&E.
"Where were you're parents?"
"I'm in foster care." said Chris wishing he could actually have said his mom and dad were in the living room or something. "I live with my foster dad Robert."
"Oh, so where was he?" the nurse asked, now checking his arms..
"He works night shift, i didn't want to bother him." lied Chris.
"Well we could call him if you like?" the nurse suggested.
"No!" Chris said suddenly. A little too suddenly.
The nurse frowned at him and stopped checking him over. Chris tried to retrace his steps.
"I-i mean, he hates hospitals and i wouldn't want to freak him out." he said.
"Well we'll need to let him know that you're here. And we'll need to keep you in for now, just so we can do x-rays and so on." explained the nurse.
"You don't need to keep me in, i'm fine! Just bandage me up and send me on my way!" said Chris, slightly panic stricken. If Rob knew he'd come to the hospital, he'd be in big trouble.
"I'm afraid "just bandaging you up" won't help you that much until we can see the extent of the damage." said the nurse.
Chris sat for a moment thinking. He had an idea of what he could do...It wasn't exactly a very hard plan to complete but he knew there was a chance that he'd get caught...
Chris decided to take his chances.
"Well then, would it be alright if you do the x-rays and fix me up and then i'll call him?" he asked hopefully.
The nurse hesitated for a moment.
"It's just, i don't want him to come any earlier than he has to. He hates hospital you see." Chris said, lying through his teeth.
The nurse sighed. "Oh alright then."
Chris smiled and sighed quietly in relief as she left to book him in for the x-rays. Part one of the plan was complete.
A couple of hours later and he was ready to go. After the x-rays the nurse had bandaged him up so that his bones could heal properly. Now she was writing his information down on the patient sheet on her clipboard. He was expected to go phone Rob now. He excused himself from the room as if he was going to make the call but instead of going to a pay phone he went straight past them and out the hospital doors.
He hurried home. He prayed that Rob wouldn't have noticed his absence as he opened the front door. He quietly walked up the stairs, listening out for Rob but he didn't hear anything. When he was safe in his room he lowered himself carefully on to his mattress. He was so tired. The bad thing was that he only had an hour and a half until he had to get up to go to school. He sighed.
Only one thought flashed through his mind at this particular moment in time.
Life sucked.
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