Chapter 3


For the next few weeks, Bob was even more consumed by his thoughts of revenge than he'd thought possible; the options were endless, and he found the prospect of a new quarry invigorating. The fact that his prey had no idea that he was even being hunted sent shivers down his spine; the element of surprise was his, and he could only imagine the look on the coward's face when he realized that he had become the victim.

It was even more satisfying, knowing that when the moment of truth came, Bob would be almost heroic in his actions. After all, he would be doing the world a service, ridding it of the kind of scum who found pleasure in torturing those weaker than himself. Bob had wanted Bart dead, surely, but had never had any interest in drawing out his suffering. Torture, in his mind, was for sick individuals, who craved respect, but could never earn it, and so convinced themselves that they were powerful by inflicting pain upon those unable to defend themselves.

Although this new enemy was unknown, he'd been surrounded by the same kind of person in prison- he'd spent years studying his fellow inmates, and he knew that abuse often masked insecurity; the abusers clung to the illusion of power that they'd created, needing to be in control of someone else, since they themselves felt helpless in some way.

Bob needed to find a way to rob the abuser of that control, deprive him of his scapegoat- once he was brought down from the pedestal upon which he'd placed himself, the rest would be easy.

He found that the time passed more quickly, now that his mind was occupied, although he still wasn't healing as fast as he would have hoped. He was itching to be free, but if he could handle years in a stinking cage, he could deal with a few months in a cushy bed, with his every need being catered to 24 hours a day. He just had to be a little more patient, and soon enough, the fiend would be within his grasp.

"Doctor," Amy's voice shook him from his thoughts. "Doctor, can I speak with you?" Doctor Davis looked up from the desk where he was working through a tall tower of paperwork.

"What is it?" Amy lowered her voice, but the acoustics in the large room worked to Bob's advantage.

"It's Bart." Suddenly, Bob was on full alert, hanging on her every word. "He's in the lobby, and it looks like his nose might be broken. I think you'd better handle this one."

"Are you still having trouble? I understand if you want to sit this out," the doctor offered, and Bob was again struck by his overwhelming kindness.

"It's not that- I mean, yes, it really bothers me, but- he won't even look at anyone else… He's in a bad state. I'm pretty sure he walked here. I just feel like it would be better if you were there; I think a familiar face would be best for him." The doctor didn't say a word, merely pushed aside the stack of work, his lips pursed grimly, and followed her out of the room.

He returned a few minutes later, a bloodied Bart in tow. He looked even worse than the last time Bob had seen him. His arm was still in the cast, and he was so thin Bob could see his shoulder blades through his t-shirt. In addition to the still bleeding nose that he clutched with his uninjured arm, both eyes were blackened, one of them badly enough that it had swollen shut, and his bottom lip was split. Bruises speckled every inch of visible skin, some of them fresh, angry and purple, others faded to a sickly yellow-green. Even from across the ward, Bob could see the boy trembling, and something inside him seemed to snap. The corners of his vision went hazy for a moment, and he felt his temperature rise as the blood rushed to his face. How anyone could do this to another human being was beyond him, and it filled him with emotions he wasn't entirely comfortable with. He felt oddly… protective of Bart, and it was in such contrast with the feelings he'd harbored for so long… He realized, with a sickening sensation, that he didn't want revenge solely because his prey had been taken from him- he actually cared what happened to Bart.

"Bart," murmured the doctor. "I'm going to put this on your eye, and it will bring down the swelling, okay?" Bart nodded, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Here, lie back." The doctor patted one of the beds a few down from Bob. Bart was so close, that his wince as he lay down was evident to Bob- and to Doctor Davis, judging by the brief flash of anger that flickered across his face. Moving slowly, not to startle Bart, he gingerly pressed a cool compress to the obstructed eye. Despite his care, Bart still flinched, ever-so-slightly at the contact. "Alright, tilt your head back, and keep this on it. I'll get something to clean your nose." He left momentarily, returning with an armful of supplies. "Is it okay if I give you something for the pain?" Bart gave a curt nod, and the doctor administered the drug.

Within a few minutes, Bart began to look slightly less anxious, some of the tension in his shoulders dispersing. "Okay, now I'm going to start cleaning away some of the blood so I can get a better look, but it will still hurt a little." He explained the process to Bart as he worked, putting the boy more at ease. When most of the blood had been cleared, he inspected it closely, shaking his head. Bob could see the large bump on the bridge where the cartilage was out of place. "Well, it's definitely broken, and unfortunately, I'm going to have to put it back into place, or it will heal crooked, and you could have respiratory problems in the future." Bart didn't respond. "It's going to hurt quite a bit, and I'm sorry for that in advance…" Bart gave another short nod, and braced himself as the doctor felt along the bridge of his nose. "At the count of three," The doctor instructed. Bart closed his eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenched. "One… two…" Bob didn't want to watch, but felt almost duty-bound not to look away. "Three!"With an audible crunch, the doctor snapped the nose back into shape in one deft move. Bob had expected Bart to cry out in pain, but he didn't allow even a whimper to escape- merely gritted his teeth and clutched the edge of the mattress with his usable hand. "Great job, Bart. I really am sorry, I know that wasn't pleasant." The doctor held gauze to Bart's nose, which was bleeding freely again. "Can you hold this here for me?" Bart complied silently. Throughout the entire ordeal, he hadn't said a word. "Bart… I'm not going to ask you what happened." Bob didn't miss the flash of relief in Bart's expression. "But I have to ask you if there's any way you'd stay here tonight?" Before the words were even fully formed, Bart's answer was written across his face.

"I think I'd better get back, but thanks," Bart said quietly. Doctor Davis paused.

"I just worry that the next time you come to me, it will be in a body bag. I won't push you, but know that my door is always open if you need anything. If you need a place to stay, you're welcome in my home for as long as you need. Please, just remember that." Bart nodded, his eyes trained on the ground.

"I will… Thank you."

"Do you need a ride? I can have someone take you home," offered the doctor. Bart shook his head, cringing as the motion jostled his tender nose.

"No, my ride should be here. Thanks, though." The doctor sighed heavily.

"All right, I'll walk you to the door." The two left the room. Clearly, Bart's situation was a serious one- the regularity with which he seemed to frequent the emergency room troubled Bob. If his abuser was that volatile, then the doctor's fears were well-founded.

He soon heard a car pull up outside. He listened for a moment, but whoever it was kept the engine running, waiting in the car. He cursed his state of infirmity; if only he could get to the window and just see who he was up against! He knew the man was right outside, and Bob couldn't even lay eyes on him. After a few minutes, someone (presumably Bart) got in, and the car drove away.

"Sure, he won't even bring him to the hospital, but he'll make sure he gets his hands back on him!" Amy burst into the room, followed by an exhausted-looking Doctor Davis. The man was rubbing his temples, his glasses in one hand.

"I know, Amy… I tried to get him to at least stay the night, and I offered to let him stay at my place, but… he's so frightened." He collapsed wearily into his chair.

"Doctor… I'm really worried." Amy paced the floor, absently biting her nails. "If it goes on like this any longer, he's going to kill him. I know you said we can't call the police, but isn't there anything we can do?" The doctor stared blankly at the papers he'd been working on. "What about his family? If we reach out to them, maybe they can talk some sense into him." Doctor Davis shook his head.

"Amy... the first time I met Bart, he was a different person. It was long before all of this, back when he was in middle school. He used to be so light-hearted and full of energy… he was a daredevil, and he got into his fair share of trouble. I had just started here, and Bart had tried- tried being the operative word- to jump a rather tall set of stairs on his skateboard. It was nothing serious, just a few stitches, but he didn't make it easy for me. As soon as I opened the door, I got a bucketful of water on my head- before I'd even met him, he'd played a prank on me, and he didn't stop there. It was frustrating, but I refused to let a preteen get the best of me. Every time he would visit, whether for a routine checkup, or a stunt gone wrong, it was something. Once, he colored around the eyepiece on my otoscope with a sharpie, so that I had a ring of very permanent ink around my eye for the rest of the day; another time, he wrote 'eat my shorts' on an entire roll of the sanitary paper that covers the beds. He even rolled it back up so that we didn't find it until we were getting the room ready for the next patient." He smiled wistfully, thinking of the Bart that Bob remembered. "We never did figure out how he managed that with no one noticing- we learned pretty quickly never to leave him unattended. Still, I never lost my patience, or showed any kind of frustration with him, and after a while… He just stopped. It was like I'd earned his respect, by tolerating his pranks without losing my patience. Of course, I wasn't the only one he played tricks on- he was infamous around Springfield for being a bit of a neighborhood menace, but it was never anything harmful or truly mean-spirited. He really was a good kid, he just liked messing with people, loved making them laugh at his antics."

"The year he graduated high school, I started seeing a change in him. Little things, at first- he wasn't as outgoing as he had been, and he started losing weight, but I didn't put too much stock into it- after all, people do change. But soon enough, it was obvious that something was going on. He stopped smiling altogether, and stopped making jokes, so I finally asked him if everything was okay. He assured me that he was just stressed out by school, but he wouldn't look me in the eyes. It was obvious that he wasn't happy, and I started to worry."

His expression darkened. "One day, I saw him in the parking lot outside the Kwik-e-mart, where he worked at the time. There was this guy there, just screaming at him, about what a liar Bart was, and how he knew he was cheating on him- Bart kept trying to assure him that he wasn't, but the other guy just got angrier and angrier the more Bart said." The doctor closed his eyes, as if the memory was too painful. "He punched him, hard. He knocked him to the ground, and just drove off, leaving him lying there on the pavement." The anger on his face bled into his voice. "He didn't care what happened to him then, and he certainly doesn't care now. I took a look at him, and he had a concussion, so I made him go with me to the hospital. I contacted the police to report that I'd witnessed an assault, but of course, the store had no cameras in the parking lot. Bart told the authorities that it was just a random stranger who'd thought he was someone else, and I didn't get a good enough look at him to identify him. Bart refused to press charges, so the case died. I tried my hardest to convince him to tell me the man's name, but he wouldn't say a word about it. He did tell me, though, that his family had no idea he was gay, and begged me not to say anything to them about it. He was so desperate, I promised that his secret was safe, but I implored him to leave, tried to explain to him that people like that just don't stop, no matter how many times they apologize, and say they'll change." He sighed heavily. "Obviously, it wasn't enough. Every time I brought it up, he would just close right up. For fear of pushing him away entirely, I stopped trying to convince him, but every time he ends up here because of something that man has done, I remind him that he always has somewhere safe to go."

"I'm torn, because I know his sister, Lisa, would be understanding, and I think she could really help him. She volunteers in the free clinic- she finished high school by the time she was fifteen, and has been working on her nursing degree. She's only twenty, but she's starting her internship at the Shelbyville hospital in a few months. I know she would be supportive, but he was adamant that his family not know about any of this, and I did promise him… If I talk to her, and he finds out, he would never trust me again. I can't even be sure she would be able to help, and I can't risk pushing him away." The weight of the situation was evident in the doctor's body language- his shoulders sagged, and his face held far too many lines for someone his age. "It's gotten worse in the last few months- as you've seen, he's been in here more than ever before. It's so discouraging, because I know that I might never get through to him, but I have to keep trying; I won't give up on Bart."

The two jumped when the front intercom buzzed, paging Doctor Davis to the front desk.

"I'd better finish my rounds," Amy said huskily, wiping her eyes. The doctor scooped up the papers.

"Well, looks like I'll have some homework. Not that I'd be sleeping much anyway." When he was gone, Amy gazed out the window absently for a spell, lost in thought. She then turned, quickly replacing her forlorn look with a forced smile, and came to change Bob's bandages.

"Hello, how are we doing today?" She asked cheerfully, and Bob was impressed with her acting, although the bubbly tone wasn't quite enough to offset the emptiness behind her eyes. Her hands were gentle as she unwrapped his limbs. "Looks like you're healing up pretty well here; just a month or so, and you'll be on your way out!" Bob had never heard sweeter words- the sooner he was out of here, the sooner he could have Bart's tormenter in his clutches.

Although he detested torture, he might be tempted to make an exception, in this case…


A/N: Thanks for reading! Hopefully you're still enjoying this, although this chapter is pretty sad. I feel really bad doing this to Bart, but this idea just popped into my head, and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

The next chapter is going to be really intense. I hope you're ready!

~A