Crimson High

A/N: Well, now that I've left you with an awful cliffy, I have now returned to write this chapter. Because I have kept you waiting, I will make sure to post the final chapter before the end of the week. Also, I have updated this one at the same time as its accompaniment 'Crimson High – The Jane Story', to maintain the flow of the story. Please go and read that one too; I would really appreciate it.

Chapter ten

The blow did not catch me squarely on the jaw as I had expected it to. As if in slow-motion, I watched as Patrick launched himself into a flying leap over the sofa. He tackled my dad like a professional football player, throwing my dad off balance. The two of them tumbled to the ground, Patrick gripping my dad around his chest and upper arms. My dad recovered quickly, and tried to struggle free from Patrick's grip. My dad managed to free one arm, which he swung in the direction of Patrick's face. Patrick managed to dodge most of the force by ducking, but my dad still managed to catch him behind the ear.

My dad used this distraction to struggle free and stagger to his feet. Patrick stood up as my dad lunged towards him. Patrick sidestepped the lunge, and my dad stumbled into the wall by the door. He pushed off again, throwing a fist in Patrick's direction. Patrick ducked his fist, and managed to get out of the way of the lumbering bulk attacking him. My dad turned and swung his fist again, but Patrick wasn't quick enough to duck. The force caught him squarely over the cheek bone. Patrick staggered back and tripped over the rug on the floor. He fell backwards onto the old telephone table by the living room door. It shattered under his weight, scattering the contents – a telephone and several note pads – across the floor.

My dad turned to me, and I watched him advance towards me. Patrick stirred, and I could see blood seeping down onto his shirt from a large gash in his head. My dad's bulky figure blocked my view of Patrick, and I stared up into his eyes in terror. A huge hand grabbed the front of my shirt. My dad slammed me back into the wall, and I could feel my head beginning to burn when it had contacted the wall. He did it again. And again. And again. My vision was blurring as the pain began to override my other senses.

I watched vaguely as a blood-soaked arm wound around my dad's neck, pulling him away from me. I dropped to my knees as Patrick pulled my dad back onto the floor. The two of them began to struggle against each other. My dad, being a lot bigger than Patrick, rolled him over and swung his fist. Patrick put up his arm, blocking the flying fist. He tried to retaliate with a punch of his own, but had no force behind it. There was blood seeping through his hair, dripping onto the floor underneath him.

My dad grabbed Patrick around the neck, trying to choke him. I shook my head and staggered to me feet. This was no time for me to freeze up. I sized up my options, and then launched myself off of the wall. I used all of the force I could to propel myself at the struggling pair. I crashed into my dad with enough force to get him off of Patrick. However, I paid the price. I felt my collarbone snap as I collided with my dad's ribcage. I slid across the floor, and staggered to my feet. I was clutching my left arm to my side. The adrenalin in my system prevented me from feeling any pain, but I knew that I was now the target.

My dad shook his head, and tried to stand up. Patrick rolled over and sat up. He saw my dad had managed to get onto his hands and knees. Patrick spotted me clutching my arm and staggered up and over to me. "Are you okay?" he whispered, eying my collarbone.

I nodded. "We need help."

Patrick glanced at the sofa, and managed to come up with a plan that could save both of us.

My dad crawled towards me, and I backed away towards the sofa. Patrick went behind the sofa, and gripped the underneath of it. My dad was slurring curses and threats as he crawled towards me. I glanced over at Patrick, who nodded. I then took one large step back as Patrick lifted the sofa from behind. It pitched forward and toppled over onto my dad, trapping him beneath it. A barrage of swearing and yelling erupted from beneath the sofa, but we ignored it. I felt myself collapse, and the pain from my shoulder hit me like a sledgehammer. I screamed in agony for the first time since the break, and James came running down the stairs. He glanced once at the sofa before rushing to my side. "Get some ice," said Patrick. "We need ice to stop it swelling."

James nodded and disappeared. Patrick headed over to the shattered telephone table and picked up the phone. He walked out the room with it as James returned with ice wrapped in a dishtowel. "Tessie," he said, gently pressing the ice to my shoulder. "Tessie, are you okay?"

"I think so," I replied, trying to sit up. "My collarbone is broken, but that's the only serious damage. Patrick got it worse though."

James turned to the sofa. It was shifting and bouncing as though it were alive. My dad was trying to free himself. "Can I help you with anything?" asked James, glancing around.

I inclined my head towards the sofa. "Sit on the corner of that, please. It'll stop him from freeing himself."

James smiled dryly and straddled the corner of the sofa. Patrick still hadn't returned, and I scooted myself back along the floor to the wall. I rested my head back and closed my eyes. The pain was now a dull throb. Just then, Patrick returned. He was not alone. Two paramedics and two police officers were just behind him. "Her father is under there," said Patrick, pointing at the sofa.

James slid down onto the floor as the police officers righted the sofa. My dad was flat on his stomach, and he stirred at the sudden freedom. Before he could push himself to his feet, however, the police officers had placed him in handcuffs and dragged him to his feet. They led him away, reading him his rights. The paramedics, one a young woman, tended to my arm. "This is a bad break," said the woman. "We'll need to take you back to the hospital to set this properly." She turned to Patrick and eyed the congealed blood in his hair and down his face. "You will need to come too. That gash needs checking."

Her male partner lifted me gently to my feet and led me out to the waiting ambulance. Patrick soon joined me, with my three brothers in tow. The five of us rode in the back of the ambulance to the hospital.

XxxxxxxxxxxX

I was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed in a room somewhere in the hospital. My arm was strapped and wrapped and in a sling across my chest. My shoulder was the only major injury I had sustained, apart from some bruising to my face and the back of my head. I was now at a loss as to what to do. Patrick having dialled 911 meant that my family could now potentially be separated by child services. I was deep in thought, when Patrick suddenly appeared at my door. "How are you doing?" he asked me, taking in my appearance.

I grimaced. "Been better. You look like death warmed up."

He laughed. A dark bruise was beginning to form across his cheekbone, and he had a bandage covering his head. "I admit I have felt better."

I sighed. "How's dad?"

Patrick pushed the door shut behind him. "The police are looking at charging your father with assault and battery. But I also know that you are worried about your brothers being separated."

"Tommy's just eight," I replied, staring down at my hands. "I don't want him to grow up without his siblings around for support. He needs all of us."

Patrick nodded, and an idea seemed to occur to him. "Excuse me for a few minutes please, Teresa," he said, opening the door abruptly. "I will be right back, I promise."

I nodded, and he left the room. I sat deep in thought, and my shoulder began to throb. I grimaced in pain, and lay back on the bed. About five minutes later, Patrick returned. "It's all been sorted," he said.

"What has?" I asked.

Patrick smiled gently at me. "Your brothers. My mother spoke to the social services people now. The boys are coming to live with my mother and me in California."

I sat up abruptly. "What?!"

The movement jerked my shoulder, and I grimaced in agony. "Just relax, Teresa," said Patrick. "I called my mother and explained the situation. She had always wanted more children, and was more than willing to foster your brothers. The social services people were happy to oblige. It meant less paperwork for them to do. I don't think your brothers will even be entered into the system."

I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. Charlotte Jane, Patrick's mother, was always such a sweet lady. I had never really met her, but Patrick often spoke fondly of her. I was really glad that she was willing to look after my brothers for me. Tommy would be especially happy, because he really was fond of Patrick. I remembered something else, and somewhat arbitrary. I figured it was the painkillers kicking in. "Patrick," I said. "I remember something you mentioned about Red John, about him having a twisted sense of right and wrong. What did he do to you?"

Patrick grimaced slightly, but decided to tell me anyway. "Red John caught me breaking into his room. I was looking for some stupid alarm codes for Craig and JJ, but wouldn't pay Red John's high prices for them. Red John caught me stealing the codes and tied me to a chair. He cut the back of my shirt open and carved his signature into my skin with a sharp knife. Nothing could be proven, because I refused to admit to stealing the codes, so he got away with it."

I tried to sit up. "What was it?"

Patrick pulled his shirt off and turned around. Faint, but visible and slightly raised, was a smiley face. It had been carved into his left shoulder, and I could clearly see the features. "I can't tell the police how I came to get this scar, because I could get a record for stealing."

I sat up. "Why not tell them that Red John is selling private details to students? Surely he can be arrested for that."

Patrick shrugged. "He could be. I never thought of doing that."

I smiled sleepily. "The staff wants me to spend the night. Please look after the boys for me."

Patrick stood up, but bent over me. He pressed his lips to mine. I got a surprise, but soon wound my free hand into his hair to pull him closer. He pulled away far too soon for my liking, and I felt myself pout. "Teresa," he said, gently caressing my hair. "You need your sleep."

I could feel the painkillers making me drowsy. I snuggled back into the bed, and Patrick pulled the blanket up over me. "Thank you, Patrick," I mumbled to him.

"No problem, Teresa," he replied, stroking my hair.

"I love you," I mumbled before I could stop myself.

The hand on my hair froze for a slit-second, before continuing its soothing motion. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming, but I might have faintly heard, "I love you too, Teresa," before drifting into a deeper sleep.

A/N2: This is the second to last chapter in this story. I really am glad you have been enjoying this so much. Please review and tell me what you think. I really do appreciate your input into this story. Thanks.