A/N I have been doing a little research on Schizophrenia and have found out that there are many different signs and symptoms, some that are common to a lot of sufferers and some that vary from person to person. This is just my take on it.

Little Boy Lost

Chapter 2

It wasn't long after her official diagnosis of Schizophrenia that Frances was first hospitalized. It didn't come at an opportune time—not that any time was particularly a good time—it was just days before Thanksgiving. Things had actually been going pretty well, although Frances was only taking her medication sporadically, she was looking forward to the holidays. For a few days, at least, things appeared normal with the family. Or as normal as they could get in the Goren family, which in turn only made things even more unpredictable.

On this particular day seven-year-old Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table, elbows on table, head in hands, watching as his mother busied herself over the sink. He had a best friend, Lewis, whose mom made Christmas cookies, really good Christmas cookies. He wished him mom would make some cookies, and then he could help, like Lewis did.

"Ma? How come Lewis' mom made Christmas cookies, and it ain't Christmas?"

Frances was really tired of all his questions and his precociousness. Never very patient with him to begin with, the fact that her mind was so befuddled lately didn't help at all.

"Bobby, why do you continuously ask questions?"

"I dunno. But how come?"

"I don't know! Maybe because you can't make them all at the last minute! And maybe she wants some for Thanksgiving, I don't know! Ask her!"

"Oh. Ok. Ma?"

"What, Bobby?"

"Will you make us Christmas cookies?"

"No. I can get them just as easily from the bakery. And save me a little work."

Bobby's mouth formed into a little pout, but he didn't say any more about it. He was pretty good at knowing when to let things go.

"Ma, are Gramma and Grampa coming for dinner on Thank…Thankgiving?"

"THANKSgiving, Bobby, and yes they are."

"Yay! And are we gonna have a big ol' turkey? And pumpin pie? And potatoes with candy on 'em and—"

"Bobby! That's enough! Go to your room!"

"But, Ma…"

"Now! And stay in there for the rest of the night!"

Bobby was always being sent to his room, by either his father or her, and he glowered at his mother, which only served to infuriate Frances. She screamed at him and tried to hit him. But Bobby saw the look in her eyes and quickly slid off the chair, running for his room before his mother could get to him. Luckily for him he was fast.

Bobby went racing through the living room past his dad and Frankie, who were sitting next to each other on the couch. Frank just scowled.

"Worthless little bastard," he said under his breath. Frankie looked up.

"What'd you say, Dad?"

"Nothing." Frank tried to hide his total disdain for Bobby from everyone. His ego took a big hit when Bobby was born and he realized, almost immediately, that Bobby was not his. Of course he would never admit to anyone that Bobby wasn't his son; it hurt his pride too much. And he definitely couldn't bring himself to show the little boy any love or affection; it totally galled him. Not to mention the fact that he would not give Frances the satisfaction of accepting her son, even though, in reality, Frances was never sure who in fact had fathered Bobby, Frank or Mark Ford Brady. So Frank never had, nor would he ever, accept Bobby or give him the love and attention he craved and deserved.

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Upon awakening the next morning, the day before Thanksgiving, Frances felt a bit guilty for once again punishing Bobby for merely being a child. She didn't know why she had so little patience with him, and like many times before, promised herself to be more tolerant with him. She considered having Grampa take him to the Thanksgiving Parade to make it up to him. Already she had forgotten that Grampa was just recovering from pneumonia, and tomorrow would be his first day out since then.

Going out to the living room she found both her sons sitting on the floor, watching tv and eating dry cereal.

"Why are you sitting in here eating cereal?"

"It's okay, Ma, we won't spill it," Frankie said, "There's no milk."

"Yeah, it's okay, Ma," Bobby chirped.

"I guess you all think that this is my fault? And your father, too?"

"No, Ma," the boys said together.

She stared at her two sons. "That's it, isn't it? You're all against me. I know everyone is against me. Even the neighbors…"

"NO, Ma!"

Looking again at her sons, she thought, Bobby looks different. They both do. Why are they different?

"What's wrong, Ma?" Frankie asked.

Frances didn't answer, just continued to stare, making both boys very uncomfortable.

"C'mon, Bobby, let's finish this in the kitchen." Frankie grabbed his and Bobby's bowls before Bobby could protest, but he didn't have to worry. Bobby was already following his brother's footsteps.

Frances continued to stare at the spot they had just left until the boys came back and snapped her out of it.

"Here, Bobby, give this to Ma." Frankie pushed a piece of paper into Bobby's hand.

Bobby shook his tousled head vehemently. "No, you do it!"

"I said, you!" Frankie refused to take it back from Bobby, so in the end, Bobby had to do it.

"H...h…here, Ma," Bobby said softly, handing the note to his mother, basically offering himself up for whatever happened.

Already suspicious, she grabbed it out of his hand. Bobby jumped back involuntarily.

She read the short note. Went to the track—don't know when I'll be back-- Frank.

"That son of a bitch!" she screamed. "That son of a bitch! How can I get everything done for tomorrow—"

"We'll help…" Frankie started.

Frances didn't even hear him. "He's supposed to get the chairs from the church! He's supposed to… how am I…well, he's not going to ruin this Thanksgiving!" With that, she grabbed Bobby and dragged him to the door. "You're going to help me," she told him, "and, Frankie, you are going to clean this house spotless!"

"Ok, Ma," Frankie said. As if he had a choice.

Bobby was surprised; his mother rarely took him anywhere, and he was actually pleased by the turn of events. They picked up the bus a couple of blocks over, and headed to the grocery store.

"You behave yourself," she told him as Bobby became antsy on the bus. Bobby tried to settle down, but he couldn't help fidgeting, and repeatedly got up to look out the window. Finally she took him by the hand, and squeezed his hand so hard she hurt him. Bobby did not cry, he hardly ever cried, as he tried unsuccessfully to pull away. But he never said anything, and the other bus riders never saw what she did. Frances told him very sweetly, "Honey, I told you to behave. Now sit done and be a good boy." Some of the riders smiled at the very attractive mother and her little look-alike son, never realizing the boy was in pain.

After they got off the bus at the grocery store, she finally let go of his hand. Bobby looked at his hand, which was already bruised.

"Maybe now you'll learn to mind me," Frances told him.

"Okay, Ma," Bobby whispered.

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Once in the grocery store, Bobby started to get excited again. "Ma? Can I pick out the big 'ol turkey? I'll find the biggest one! Can I, Ma, can I?"

Frances looked around quickly. "Stop it! You're embarrassing me!"

Bobby lowered his dark eyes. "Sorry, Mama."

"My Bobby would never do that to me."

Bobby looked up at his mother. "Huh?"

She took Bobby's chin in her hand and raised his face to her, studying him intently. This isn't Bobby, she thought. They're trying to fool me… This boy…

"Who are you?" she suddenly demanded, totally confusing him.

"B…Bobby…"

"Don't you lie to me!" she hissed. Then, very loudly, "Where is my son?"

"Ma—"

Frances grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Where is he?! Where is he?!"

Tears sprang to Bobby's eyes. "Mama, it's me… I'm Bobby…"

"We'll just see about that!" She grabbed his arm, not letting him go. Then she stopped a passing woman.

"Please help me," she told the woman. "I can't find my son… my real son!"

The woman frowned, then gave her a strange look and walked on.

"No!" Frances said, extremely upset. "Don't go! Please! My son, I can't find my son!"

"Ma—" Bobby tried to tell her he was here, but she only got more anxious. "Someone!" She screamed. "Anyone! Help me!"

Frances was causing such a disturbance that the store manager, followed by his assistants, arrived.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

"No!" She spat. "My son is gone, I think they have him!"

"Who? What? Someone kidnapped your son?"

"Yes! It's them, I know it!"

The manager looked at Bobby. "Who are you?"

"I'm Bobby."

"Is this your mother?"

"Yes."

"You have a brother? And someone kidnapped him? Jimmy, call the police." As Assistant manager Jimmy ran off to the office to call the police, Bobby tried to explain what was going on, and realized he didn't know what was going on. He was as much in the dark as everyone else.

"Okay, lady, let's get you and your son into the office—"

"He's not my son!"

"What? This kid? He's not your son?"

"No!" Frances screamed, nearly hysterical now. "He's faking! They took my son and left this… this…" She couldn't even find a word for Bobby now. "He's in on it! Don't let him get away!"

The manager took Bobby from Frances' grip, and held on to him. "Don't worry, lady, he's not going anywhere."

"You've got to find my son! Please, before they hurt him!" Frances was severely agitated now and totally losing control. She attempted to run out of the office, right into the arms of the policeman who just arrived.

"Okay, lady, settle down—"

"No! Let me go! I've got to find my son! Help me, please!" The policeman barely managed to hold her as he called for backup. As the other police arrived and Frances became even more incoherent, it was determined that there was definitely something wrong with her, and a call was put in to the hospital.

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If the store managers and the police thought Frances was out of control before, they hadn't seen anything yet as hospital personnel tried to restrain her. She screamed at them, she screamed at Bobby, threatening bodily harm to them all. As they attempted to get her into the ambulance, even Bobby got hysterical. He had no idea what they were doing to his mother and he cried and screamed for her, begging them not to take his mother away. One of the policemen held him as he reached frantically for his mother.

"MAMA! Don't go, please! Mama! Don't take my mom away," he cried pitifully.

If Frances heard him or even recognized him, she gave no indication as they were putting her in the ambulance.

As the ambulance pulled away, Bobby was still struggling in the policeman's grasp, still reaching for his mother. He sobbed, the tears spilling down his face. "Please don't go, Mama…"

tbc

Thanks for reading!