Thanks to you all for being so patient. I hope I don't disappoint on this
chapter
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From Here To Heaven
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Chapter Four
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Chris: One Step Forward
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"Shawn?" Hunter asked when the car came to rest in front of a decent looking apartment building. It was on the far side of town, only a few minutes from the nearest bright area. The walls were peeling slightly, and the whole thing gave the appearance of a place for low income families. The parking lot was full of dire, poor cars that looked as if they couldn't chug their way out of the warehouse. Shawn's car was one of the best in comparison. A few kids dressed in black sweaters with hoods over their faces hung out by a lamppost, probably smoking pot or the like. More kids strung out the parking lot, talking, laughing, probably smoking too. It wasn't the worst neighborhood I'd seen by far; but at the same time, it didn't look exactly like a place Beaver and his family would live.
Shawn made an uncommitted noise to acknowledge to knowledge the question. I could see his eyes in the mirror as we passed the lamppost. He looked about ready to turn his head and speak to me, but at the last moment, he stopped himself. That was good, because I was never a huge fan of preaching.
"Can I talk to you outside?" Hunter continued in a casual voice, but his eyes flicked nervously to the mirror and rested on my head for a moment. I ignored him.
"Naw, Hunt, it's getting late-"
He was incorrect. Light was painting the sky in brilliant streaks. He was crazy, but I decided not to mention it.
"Shawn," Hunter said loudly.
Sighing, Shawn turned around in his seat and spoke directly to me. "Stay here, Chris. We'll only be a second and then we'll figure out how to get you upstairs."
"Great," I said shortly, speaking balefully. I would remain cool and short to them at all times; when I decided they were worthy of my trust, then I'd get serious.
Hunter slammed out of the car, strode past it, crossed the sidewalk, and entered the grassy area that brimmed the apartments. Shawn joined him and they talked lividly, never stopping, the flow of words exchanged and mingled constantly. It was interesting to watch. Shawn watched Hunter talk animatedly, almost as if Shawn was somewhere far away.
They argued and the sky turned a deeper shade of turquoise. The kids in the heavy black sweaters with hoods dispersed after a few moments, slapping hands and hollering to each other as they turned away and headed down alleys shrouded with the pre- dawn gloom. Most of the other kids on the sidewalk left too, but a few remained, talking and passing around a short white stick with a tan end. I wrinkled my nose at it.
I had tired the ritual of smoking. I had tried the ritual of drinking, passing out, and waking up feeling like you had just been mowed over with a truck. I had tried both and both had turned into what I had imagined: the smoke and the beer had turned me into a replica of the foster parents I despised. That had been the real breaker for me. If I turned into those who had harmed me, I was no better than they were. And nothing could make me want to imitate their despicable ways.
The light turned milky and splashed in hazy slants across my body. And still, Hunter and Shawn talked- or argued- in the overgrown grass. Doors opened in the apartments and men and women hurried out, some wearing suits to head into the business district, some wearing hardly anything to head toward the strip clubs, and some wearing casual clothes that suggested labor. They got in their cars with the splotched rust spots, in the cars whose tires looked shredded, in the cars that seemed about ready to break apart into pieces. The great low-class of society was unfolding before my eyes.
And finally, as the cars coughed and sputtered and clambered away, Shawn came and opened my door.
"Are you ready? My apartment is on the top floor, though. With your leg, it should be tough to get you up. I begged for the top apartments, because it's horrible to be on the bottoms because the top makes all the noise. I figure I'd just stay ahead of the pack."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked bluntly.
Shawn didn't miss a beat and part of me hated him for it. "Well, kid, we have to get you up the stairs. There's no elevator. You wouldn't mind if me and Hunter carried you, would you?"
"Actually, I'm not sure if Hunter could stand to touch me," I said sulkily in a low voice, eyeing the man standing on the lip of the sidewalk, glaring at Shawn and me. I ignored his heated gaze and instead peered up at Shawn.
A smile ceased his face. "I'm sure Hunter could stand to touch you, he's still here on planet Earth. Don't be too hard on him. He's kind of afraid of what he doesn't like."
"The great mystery of life," I said miserably. My leg was numb from not moving for so long, but I knew as soon as I moved it, pain would come fluttering from nowhere. I didn't want to move; I wanted to refuse it.
"Ready?" Shawn asked and without waiting for an answer, motioned to Hunter. I saw Hunter grumble something, and then he resignedly trotted over. "I'll drag you out and probably just throw you over my shoulder. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
I started to say something, but suddenly he swooped upon me and slipped his arms underneath mines. I yelped as he yanked hard, my knee banking badly against seat. He yanked again and I was into open air, hanging out, my feet resting on the seat while Shawn pushed me up. My leg hit the seat again. I cried out. Shawn's hands moved to my torso, hugged my stomach, and pulled me up. My legs fell from the car and hit the ground. I cried out again and frantically transferred all my weight to my good leg, the right one. I was standing now, leaning against the car door, Shawn grasping me around the middle. Hunter stood, watching us both serenely with quiet countenance.
"Lift," Shawn grunted and suddenly lifted me straight up, twisted me with supernatural strength, and slung me over his shoulder. I was looking at the black and scratched pavement, my long blonde hair obstructing my vision. My legs dangled and my gimp one gave twinges of pain.
"This is a good arrangement," Hunter said sulkily as Shawn began to walk, nudging the door closed. I gave a whimper of pain as my leg shoed foot banged against Shawn's ribs. It must have hurt him, too; I wasn't a lightweight, but he didn't say anything, just marched on without a word.
"Give me your keys so I can open the apartment," Hunter said. Shawn made a quiet acknowledging sound and Hunter fished around in Shawn's front pocket until there was a jingling of metal. Taking the keys, Hunter dashed ahead. I couldn't see anything except the ground in which Shawn traveled; first there was tar and broken pebbles, then a cream colored sidewalk, dead and brown grass, and finally a dark gray cement that was the landing to the stairs.
"We're going up," Shawn said. "Are you alright?"
Considering the fact I was dangling over a person's shoulders whom I had met just hours earlier, I was doing remarkably well. I told him so and he only made a small laugh. My leg hit the banister. I shouted.
"We're almost there," he stated, but of course he was lying. We had just started climbing a second before.
Shawn climbed, and my leg banged against the banister or his ribs with every movement. I wanted to scream at him, at the oddly terrifying pain in my leg, but I kept my voice to whimpers and occasional shouts and curses of pain.
"Don't cuss," Shawn said for the fifth time as we had almost reached the top.
"You fucking don't cuss when your leg is being fucked!" I screamed at him.
"Don't cuss," he replied.
I cursed.
We reached the top of the stairs, Hunter opened a door, and Shawn carried me into his apartment. It was dark and a single light illuminated the room. The carpet, from my vantage point, was old and frilly, but it looked decently clean. Craning my neck, I saw an old, battered TV set; an old, battered stereo set that seemed to ooze death; chairs gathered around a flimsy card table that looked fit to fall at any given moment; two crates full of odd and misshapen things that I could only guess at; a chest that seemed to be decades old.
"Here we are," Shawn announced and I shifted my head through the gap between his legs. The bottom of a rust-red couch gave to my vision. "Alley-oop," Shawn effected and suddenly shook me forward, using both hands to pull me back from my position. My leg shook pain. Cradling my back, he lowered me onto the couch, being as careful as he could with my leg and bruised body. My ribs had stopped their hurting awhile ago, but it still stung. He deposited me, carefully fixed my legs so that both were on the couch, and then stepped back to peer down.
"Nice place," I commented, wiping sweat from my eyes, panting. I looked at my oddly bent knee and then up at Shawn. Hunter switched on another light and more of the place was illuminated. There was a small kitchen nook in the very back of the place. A small hallway gave into what I suspected to probably be a bedroom and a john. It was light badly, with a few windows that didn't look like they would allow in much light. There were stains over the walls, over the furniture, but none of it was actually dirty. It looked pretty decent, truth me told.
"Thanks." Shawn stepped back and examined me again with his eyes. "We should probably do something about that leg."
"It's fine," I said defensively. "It just hurts a little."
"Can I look at it?"
"No thanks," I said crudely. "No thanks whatsoever."
"I'd watch my mouth, kid," Hunter snarled, stepping forward from the shadows to join Shawn in the center of the room.
I rolled my eyes indifferently. "Its fine, thanks. It just hurts a little. I'm sure it'll be fine later."
"Can you straighten it out?" Shawn asked.
I lied. "Yeah."
"Do it," Hunter said sharply. "Straighten it out."
I began to do so. Something shifted, something rattled.
And then I screamed.
I threw myself back upon the couch, gritting my teeth, clenching my hands so hard my nails left indentions in my palms. The pain was unbearable. It was as if somebody had taken a thousand hot tips and stuck them straight through my bone. I buried my head in my misery.
Through blurry eyes, I looked up at Shawn and Hunter. Shawn looked unfazed; Hunter, however, looked stricken and that startled me. If anything, it should have been Shawn who had the stricken look. But no, Hunter's eyes rolled and his mouth moved into an unhappy expression that spoke only of worry and pain. It confused me, and that broke through the pain that attacked me.
"Something moved in there," Shawn said, interrupting my thoughts. "I think you shattered it, Chris. Shattered it pretty badly, too."
"Did the gang do that?" Hunter asked, his voice thick.
I had to lie. I couldn't tell them the truth. "They must have."
"Where else are you hurt?" Shawn pondered.
I contemplated. One of my ribs was probably broken, and the others were maybe bruised. My head ached and ached and pounded violently. My neck felt increasingly painful, my arms felt rubbery, and I basically felt like somebody had beaten the crap out of me. Well, that was true. Two times over. I told them so.
"Alright, Chris. You've got to go to a hospital."
Panic fluttered inside my chest. "You promised you wouldn't take me!"
Shawn smiled a dazzling smile. "I know I did, but you need medical attention. Besides, nobody will ever have to know it's you."
I felt thoroughly confused. "What?"
"Hunter," Shawn cued.
Hunter's worried look disappeared. "Shawn, it's illegal." He sounded as angry as ever.
"Yeah, but you've done it before. You can do it again."
"It costs money."
"I'll give you the buck, buddy. Just get it done and explain to our young friend what you intend to do."
Hunter cursed loudly and then his eyes settled on me. "You can procure documents, kid, that change your identity. It's like the Witness Protection thing, only if you've got the cash, you've got a new identity. You'll get a new Social Security number, a new name, a new everything. If you know where to look, of course. Shawn wants me to do that for you."
I felt overwhelmed, but I had known that. Of course I had known that. I had considered it many times myself, but the cash had always been short in hand. "You'd do that for me?"
Hunter looked pissed, but Shawn smiled again. "You're hurt, kid. You need medical attention and I intend to get you that. Hunter, when you can have them?"
Hunter contemplated angrily. "I need his picture, since I can't take him in. And you're birthdate and any other information."
I said nothing.
Shawn eyed me. "I've got a camera with a few pictures left," he said. "It's left over from Walter's ring day. We can take it with that and get them developed. I'll get the camera."
"Shawn, you have to go to work." Hunter sat down on the beaten chair in the corner by the card table. "I'm not going to let you stop going to work."
"I'm going to work," he said, in a most humble voice. "Let's take this picture first so you can get to work."
"I'm not your puppet, Shawn." Hunter rose again, and his voice was solemn. He looked at me, and then at Shawn. "I'll help you the best I can, but when it starts interfering with my personal life, I'm sorry. You're my best friend, Shawn, but he- "and he pointed at me "- is not going to ruin me. I'm sorry if I can't be more of a help."
I didn't get angry. To my burning shame, I sympathized with him. I respected him. And that left me hollow.
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I'm sorry it's so short, but I think I should just put something out there for my patient readers. So here you are! I hope you enjoyed it.
From Here To Heaven
__
Chapter Four
__
Chris: One Step Forward
__
"Shawn?" Hunter asked when the car came to rest in front of a decent looking apartment building. It was on the far side of town, only a few minutes from the nearest bright area. The walls were peeling slightly, and the whole thing gave the appearance of a place for low income families. The parking lot was full of dire, poor cars that looked as if they couldn't chug their way out of the warehouse. Shawn's car was one of the best in comparison. A few kids dressed in black sweaters with hoods over their faces hung out by a lamppost, probably smoking pot or the like. More kids strung out the parking lot, talking, laughing, probably smoking too. It wasn't the worst neighborhood I'd seen by far; but at the same time, it didn't look exactly like a place Beaver and his family would live.
Shawn made an uncommitted noise to acknowledge to knowledge the question. I could see his eyes in the mirror as we passed the lamppost. He looked about ready to turn his head and speak to me, but at the last moment, he stopped himself. That was good, because I was never a huge fan of preaching.
"Can I talk to you outside?" Hunter continued in a casual voice, but his eyes flicked nervously to the mirror and rested on my head for a moment. I ignored him.
"Naw, Hunt, it's getting late-"
He was incorrect. Light was painting the sky in brilliant streaks. He was crazy, but I decided not to mention it.
"Shawn," Hunter said loudly.
Sighing, Shawn turned around in his seat and spoke directly to me. "Stay here, Chris. We'll only be a second and then we'll figure out how to get you upstairs."
"Great," I said shortly, speaking balefully. I would remain cool and short to them at all times; when I decided they were worthy of my trust, then I'd get serious.
Hunter slammed out of the car, strode past it, crossed the sidewalk, and entered the grassy area that brimmed the apartments. Shawn joined him and they talked lividly, never stopping, the flow of words exchanged and mingled constantly. It was interesting to watch. Shawn watched Hunter talk animatedly, almost as if Shawn was somewhere far away.
They argued and the sky turned a deeper shade of turquoise. The kids in the heavy black sweaters with hoods dispersed after a few moments, slapping hands and hollering to each other as they turned away and headed down alleys shrouded with the pre- dawn gloom. Most of the other kids on the sidewalk left too, but a few remained, talking and passing around a short white stick with a tan end. I wrinkled my nose at it.
I had tired the ritual of smoking. I had tried the ritual of drinking, passing out, and waking up feeling like you had just been mowed over with a truck. I had tried both and both had turned into what I had imagined: the smoke and the beer had turned me into a replica of the foster parents I despised. That had been the real breaker for me. If I turned into those who had harmed me, I was no better than they were. And nothing could make me want to imitate their despicable ways.
The light turned milky and splashed in hazy slants across my body. And still, Hunter and Shawn talked- or argued- in the overgrown grass. Doors opened in the apartments and men and women hurried out, some wearing suits to head into the business district, some wearing hardly anything to head toward the strip clubs, and some wearing casual clothes that suggested labor. They got in their cars with the splotched rust spots, in the cars whose tires looked shredded, in the cars that seemed about ready to break apart into pieces. The great low-class of society was unfolding before my eyes.
And finally, as the cars coughed and sputtered and clambered away, Shawn came and opened my door.
"Are you ready? My apartment is on the top floor, though. With your leg, it should be tough to get you up. I begged for the top apartments, because it's horrible to be on the bottoms because the top makes all the noise. I figure I'd just stay ahead of the pack."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked bluntly.
Shawn didn't miss a beat and part of me hated him for it. "Well, kid, we have to get you up the stairs. There's no elevator. You wouldn't mind if me and Hunter carried you, would you?"
"Actually, I'm not sure if Hunter could stand to touch me," I said sulkily in a low voice, eyeing the man standing on the lip of the sidewalk, glaring at Shawn and me. I ignored his heated gaze and instead peered up at Shawn.
A smile ceased his face. "I'm sure Hunter could stand to touch you, he's still here on planet Earth. Don't be too hard on him. He's kind of afraid of what he doesn't like."
"The great mystery of life," I said miserably. My leg was numb from not moving for so long, but I knew as soon as I moved it, pain would come fluttering from nowhere. I didn't want to move; I wanted to refuse it.
"Ready?" Shawn asked and without waiting for an answer, motioned to Hunter. I saw Hunter grumble something, and then he resignedly trotted over. "I'll drag you out and probably just throw you over my shoulder. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
I started to say something, but suddenly he swooped upon me and slipped his arms underneath mines. I yelped as he yanked hard, my knee banking badly against seat. He yanked again and I was into open air, hanging out, my feet resting on the seat while Shawn pushed me up. My leg hit the seat again. I cried out. Shawn's hands moved to my torso, hugged my stomach, and pulled me up. My legs fell from the car and hit the ground. I cried out again and frantically transferred all my weight to my good leg, the right one. I was standing now, leaning against the car door, Shawn grasping me around the middle. Hunter stood, watching us both serenely with quiet countenance.
"Lift," Shawn grunted and suddenly lifted me straight up, twisted me with supernatural strength, and slung me over his shoulder. I was looking at the black and scratched pavement, my long blonde hair obstructing my vision. My legs dangled and my gimp one gave twinges of pain.
"This is a good arrangement," Hunter said sulkily as Shawn began to walk, nudging the door closed. I gave a whimper of pain as my leg shoed foot banged against Shawn's ribs. It must have hurt him, too; I wasn't a lightweight, but he didn't say anything, just marched on without a word.
"Give me your keys so I can open the apartment," Hunter said. Shawn made a quiet acknowledging sound and Hunter fished around in Shawn's front pocket until there was a jingling of metal. Taking the keys, Hunter dashed ahead. I couldn't see anything except the ground in which Shawn traveled; first there was tar and broken pebbles, then a cream colored sidewalk, dead and brown grass, and finally a dark gray cement that was the landing to the stairs.
"We're going up," Shawn said. "Are you alright?"
Considering the fact I was dangling over a person's shoulders whom I had met just hours earlier, I was doing remarkably well. I told him so and he only made a small laugh. My leg hit the banister. I shouted.
"We're almost there," he stated, but of course he was lying. We had just started climbing a second before.
Shawn climbed, and my leg banged against the banister or his ribs with every movement. I wanted to scream at him, at the oddly terrifying pain in my leg, but I kept my voice to whimpers and occasional shouts and curses of pain.
"Don't cuss," Shawn said for the fifth time as we had almost reached the top.
"You fucking don't cuss when your leg is being fucked!" I screamed at him.
"Don't cuss," he replied.
I cursed.
We reached the top of the stairs, Hunter opened a door, and Shawn carried me into his apartment. It was dark and a single light illuminated the room. The carpet, from my vantage point, was old and frilly, but it looked decently clean. Craning my neck, I saw an old, battered TV set; an old, battered stereo set that seemed to ooze death; chairs gathered around a flimsy card table that looked fit to fall at any given moment; two crates full of odd and misshapen things that I could only guess at; a chest that seemed to be decades old.
"Here we are," Shawn announced and I shifted my head through the gap between his legs. The bottom of a rust-red couch gave to my vision. "Alley-oop," Shawn effected and suddenly shook me forward, using both hands to pull me back from my position. My leg shook pain. Cradling my back, he lowered me onto the couch, being as careful as he could with my leg and bruised body. My ribs had stopped their hurting awhile ago, but it still stung. He deposited me, carefully fixed my legs so that both were on the couch, and then stepped back to peer down.
"Nice place," I commented, wiping sweat from my eyes, panting. I looked at my oddly bent knee and then up at Shawn. Hunter switched on another light and more of the place was illuminated. There was a small kitchen nook in the very back of the place. A small hallway gave into what I suspected to probably be a bedroom and a john. It was light badly, with a few windows that didn't look like they would allow in much light. There were stains over the walls, over the furniture, but none of it was actually dirty. It looked pretty decent, truth me told.
"Thanks." Shawn stepped back and examined me again with his eyes. "We should probably do something about that leg."
"It's fine," I said defensively. "It just hurts a little."
"Can I look at it?"
"No thanks," I said crudely. "No thanks whatsoever."
"I'd watch my mouth, kid," Hunter snarled, stepping forward from the shadows to join Shawn in the center of the room.
I rolled my eyes indifferently. "Its fine, thanks. It just hurts a little. I'm sure it'll be fine later."
"Can you straighten it out?" Shawn asked.
I lied. "Yeah."
"Do it," Hunter said sharply. "Straighten it out."
I began to do so. Something shifted, something rattled.
And then I screamed.
I threw myself back upon the couch, gritting my teeth, clenching my hands so hard my nails left indentions in my palms. The pain was unbearable. It was as if somebody had taken a thousand hot tips and stuck them straight through my bone. I buried my head in my misery.
Through blurry eyes, I looked up at Shawn and Hunter. Shawn looked unfazed; Hunter, however, looked stricken and that startled me. If anything, it should have been Shawn who had the stricken look. But no, Hunter's eyes rolled and his mouth moved into an unhappy expression that spoke only of worry and pain. It confused me, and that broke through the pain that attacked me.
"Something moved in there," Shawn said, interrupting my thoughts. "I think you shattered it, Chris. Shattered it pretty badly, too."
"Did the gang do that?" Hunter asked, his voice thick.
I had to lie. I couldn't tell them the truth. "They must have."
"Where else are you hurt?" Shawn pondered.
I contemplated. One of my ribs was probably broken, and the others were maybe bruised. My head ached and ached and pounded violently. My neck felt increasingly painful, my arms felt rubbery, and I basically felt like somebody had beaten the crap out of me. Well, that was true. Two times over. I told them so.
"Alright, Chris. You've got to go to a hospital."
Panic fluttered inside my chest. "You promised you wouldn't take me!"
Shawn smiled a dazzling smile. "I know I did, but you need medical attention. Besides, nobody will ever have to know it's you."
I felt thoroughly confused. "What?"
"Hunter," Shawn cued.
Hunter's worried look disappeared. "Shawn, it's illegal." He sounded as angry as ever.
"Yeah, but you've done it before. You can do it again."
"It costs money."
"I'll give you the buck, buddy. Just get it done and explain to our young friend what you intend to do."
Hunter cursed loudly and then his eyes settled on me. "You can procure documents, kid, that change your identity. It's like the Witness Protection thing, only if you've got the cash, you've got a new identity. You'll get a new Social Security number, a new name, a new everything. If you know where to look, of course. Shawn wants me to do that for you."
I felt overwhelmed, but I had known that. Of course I had known that. I had considered it many times myself, but the cash had always been short in hand. "You'd do that for me?"
Hunter looked pissed, but Shawn smiled again. "You're hurt, kid. You need medical attention and I intend to get you that. Hunter, when you can have them?"
Hunter contemplated angrily. "I need his picture, since I can't take him in. And you're birthdate and any other information."
I said nothing.
Shawn eyed me. "I've got a camera with a few pictures left," he said. "It's left over from Walter's ring day. We can take it with that and get them developed. I'll get the camera."
"Shawn, you have to go to work." Hunter sat down on the beaten chair in the corner by the card table. "I'm not going to let you stop going to work."
"I'm going to work," he said, in a most humble voice. "Let's take this picture first so you can get to work."
"I'm not your puppet, Shawn." Hunter rose again, and his voice was solemn. He looked at me, and then at Shawn. "I'll help you the best I can, but when it starts interfering with my personal life, I'm sorry. You're my best friend, Shawn, but he- "and he pointed at me "- is not going to ruin me. I'm sorry if I can't be more of a help."
I didn't get angry. To my burning shame, I sympathized with him. I respected him. And that left me hollow.
__
I'm sorry it's so short, but I think I should just put something out there for my patient readers. So here you are! I hope you enjoyed it.
