Author's Note: I would like to thank you all for such amazing reviews! It's those reviews that keep me going! You're so wonderful!

There are a couple bad words in here, but I don't think they're that bad. Sorry to anyone I may offend with them.

Chapter 10: Hiding

Peter was filled with fear as he heard the tire explode. He had been tightly pressed into the seat, and was thrown violently to the floor as the car began to careen out of control. He vaguely heard Mike yell at him to jump out of the car, so he carefully jumped as Mike kept the car from spinning out completely and jumped. He tucked his body as close together as he could as he landed on sand and rolled. He felt the full impact hit him and the sand scratched mercilessly at his face and arms, but he tried to ignore the pain. Once he stopped rolling, he jumped up and looked for Mike, assuming Mike had jumped soon after him. He hadn't.

Peter spotted the car about half a mile ahead. It had crashed into the sand and only then had come to a stop. Mike was still in the driver's seat; not moving. Peter's blood froze fearing the worst, and he ran as fast as he could to the car. When he finally reached the car, he saw Mike was slumped on the steering wheel with blood dripping down his face and his eyes were closed. Peter felt the side of his friend's neck and was relieved to feel a pulse. At least Mike was alive.

"Mike!" Peter yelled trying to wake him up. "Mike, wake up! Please, wake up!" It wasn't working; Mike was out cold. Peter looked around for someone to help him, but no one was around. He knew his mother and Barty weren't far behind them and would soon find them, so he had to think of something. He spotted an old abandoned lifeguard building a few feet away and decided to try and hide out in there. He carefully unbuckled Mike and pulled him from the car. Careful not to move Mike's neck around too much, he grabbed him under the arms and dragged him as quickly as he could toward the lifeguard station. Once he got him up the ramp, he lay Mike down in front of the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He looked around for a way to pry it open, but there was nothing. He walked around and spotted a window that had already been broken by vandals. He climbed through it, careful not to cut himself on the glass, and ran to the door. He unlocked it and yanked the door open before dragging Mike in toward the middle of the room. Thinking that he needed to cover up their tracks, he dashed back outside and quickly kicked a lot of sand around in front of him as he walked backwards toward the lifeguard station. He then ran back and slammed the door shut and locked it again just in time to see the outline of his mother's car coming around the bend where they had lost control. Pushing himself against the door, he prayed that they didn't see him. He heard them slow down and pull off on the side of the road and stayed completely still so as not to make a sound.

"They crashed," he heard his mother say.

"Where did they go?" Barty asked.

"They ran, of course," his mother answered. "I don't see any tracks, so they must have run up the road. Get back in the car." Peter breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the car pull away. He carefully looked out the window to make sure they had left before running over to Mike.

"Mike, please wake up," Peter said, but again nothing happened. Mike looked terrible and Peter wanted to cry. His leg looked a little twisted and Peter could now see a sizeable gash on Mike's head from bouncing off the steering wheel. He looked around the room thinking there had to be a phone or at least a first aid kit here. He spied the phone first and dashed over to it, but it didn't work. He threw the phone across the room in frustration. Forcing himself to focus, he found the first aid kit and was glad when he found it fully stocked. He knelt down on the floor next to Mike and started wiping the blood from his face. He placed a square bandage over the gash on Mike's head and taped it. He wasn't exactly sure what to do about Mike's leg, but he checked to make sure it wasn't broken.

He thought about leaving to go get help, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Mike all alone unconscious on the floor. He tried to wake Mike up again, but nothing worked. So he put a rolled up towel under Mike's head as a pillow and sat on the floor next to Mike to just wait. Mike had to wake up soon. He just had to. After about an hour, he heard Mike groan in pain and Peter moved to make sure Mike didn't try and get up by placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Mike?" he asked. "Mike, are you ok?"

"Peter?" Mike groaned out. He opened his eyes slowly, but winced in pain after a moment.

"Be careful, Mike," Peter cautioned. "You hit your head pretty hard."

"What happened?"

"We crashed trying to get away from my mom," Peter answered. "Do you remember?"

"Now I do," Mike answered. He moved to sit up, but Peter pushed him back down.

"Don't," Peter cautioned again. "You're hurt pretty bad. Just rest."

"Are you ok?" Mike asked.

"I'm fine," Peter answered. "A little banged and bruised, but other than that, fine. Thanks to you. If I'd been in the car when it crashed into the sand, I might be in the same condition you are and then we'd be dead. My mom and Barty found the car, but I'd pulled you in here and erased the tracks so they wouldn't find us."

"That was really smart thinking," Mike said trying again to get back up. "But we can't stay here."

"Mike, you really need to rest!" Peter said trying to push him back down.

"I can rest at home," Mike argued. "We can't leave Micky and Davy all alone. You're mom knows you're here now and she's probably come to the conclusion you're hiding Patty. The logical next step would be to find where you live to find Patty. Micky can barely walk and Patty and Davy have Marcy to worry about, too. We can't stay here." Peter's stomach instantly knotted; he hadn't thought of that. What if his mom had already found them? He'd been too worried about Mike to worry about the others. Mike tried to get up, but fell right back down groaning in pain as he twisted his already messed up leg.

"Careful," Peter said. "You twisted something in your leg, I think."

"Help me up, Peter," Mike said. Peter complied and together they made it out of the lifeguard station. It took nearly an hour for them to walk back to their pad with Mike hanging off Peter's shoulders and a few times, Mike nearly passed out again. They followed the beach along, so they reached the back door of the pad and Peter carefully helped Mike sit down on the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll go get Davy," Peter said. Mike nodded and leaned his head against the railing on the stairs. "Mike, stay awake!" Peter exclaimed as Mike closed his eyes.

"I am," Mike said. "I'm just tired."

"Just stay here," Peter said. "I'll go get Davy and we'll bring you up upstairs." Peter ran up the stairs as fast as he could, terrified that Mike was going to pass out again. If he did, Peter wasn't sure he'd wake up again. He ripped open the back door to the house, startling the others.

"Peter!" Patty exclaimed who'd been sitting right next to the door playing with Marcy. "You scared the daylights out of me!"

"What's wrong?" Davy and Micky asked in unison instantly recognizing the worried and pained expression Peter knew he wore on his face.

"Where's Mike?" Micky asked.

"At the bottom of the stairs," Peter explained. "Davy, help me carry him up."

"Why do we need to carry him?" Davy asked sounding worried.

"We got into a little accident," Peter explained. "We were trying to outrun my mom and crashed."

"Mom's here?" Patty asked jumping up and looking terrified.

"Yes," Peter answered. "Davy, help me?" Davy rushed over and followed Peter down the stairs. When they got to the bottom, Peter was devastated to discover Mike had passed out again and had fallen over onto the ground.

"Mike!" Davy exclaimed upon seeing him.

"Oh, Mike," Peter moaned. "I told you to stay awake! Davy, help me lift him. Careful, though, he twisted his leg." Davy looked extremely worried, but grabbed Mike by the legs while Peter grabbed him by the arms and they carried him up the stairs. Micky moved quickly off the couch to make room for Mike and sat in a chair. Patty dragged over another chair so he could at least keep his leg propped.

"Great," Davy said. "Now we're two men down."

"Is he gonna be ok?" Marcy asked.

"He hit his head really hard," Peter said waving at the bandage on his head. "I hid us in a lifeguard station for a while. Lucky they had a full stock of first aid."

"So what do we do now?" Davy asked.

"I don't know," Peter said nearing tears again. "Mike, wake up. Please, please, please…"

"Peter, tell me what happened," Micky said firmly. Micky was sliding effortlessly into the leadership role Mike usually took, which was very comforting to Peter. Peter recounted everything that had happened, never once taking his eyes off Mike and willing him to wake up again. "We can't stay here," Micky said when Peter had finished.

"What do you mean?" Davy asked. Micky sighed and looked over at Patty who was holding tightly on to Marcy. They both looked scared.

"Your mother is bound to find out where you live," Micky said after a short pause. "Davy, your mom already knows where you live. And my parents will probably figure it out, too. Mike's down and I can't walk. That just leaves you two and Patty to take care of Marcy. We can't protect ourselves here. We're sitting ducks. We have to leave."

"Where are we going to go exactly?" Davy asked.

"And how are we going to get there?" Peter added. "We don't have a car."

"How bad is it?" Micky asked.

"I don't know really," Peter admitted. "I was more concerned about Mike."

"Of course you were," Micky answered. "I would have been, too. Ok, there's an abandoned warehouse not too far from here. It's not perfect, but it'll have to do for now. Davy, can you call Mr. Crumpets and see if he can tow the car into his garage for a while?"

"Yeah," Davy nodded and dashed toward the phone.

"I'll go get a few things packed for us," Peter said and he dashed off to pack anything they might need such as clothes and sleeping bags.

An hour later after Patty and Marcy gathered up a little bit of food and Davy made sure they had medical supplies for Micky and Mike, they were ready to go. Micky couldn't walk well, so he leaned on Davy for a little support while Patty and Peter carefully carried Mike in between them as he still hadn't woken up again. Marcy helped to carry some of the things they had packed keeping close to Micky. Once they had gotten to the warehouse, they snuck in unnoticed and made themselves comfortable. Micky felt very tired and lay down on one of the sleeping bags.

"Patty, can I talk to you for a minute?" Micky asked wanting to do this before he took a nap. Patty nodded and came over to sit next to him. Micky spoke quietly so the others wouldn't hear. "Patty, I need you to promise me something. If anything happens and we have to split up, I want you to take Marcy. She likes you; she trusts you."

"Micky, I-" she started, but Micky cut her off.

"I don't want it to have to come down to it, but it may have to," he said. "If you have to leave us behind, I need to know Marcy is going to be taken care of. Please promise me, Patty." Patty's eyes filled with tears a little as she thought about this possibility, but she finally nodded and wiped the tears away.

"I promise, Micky," she said. "You saved my life twice. If I can't return the favor, I'll do it for Marcy."

"Thank you," Micky said. Patty got up and walked away trying to keep herself strong. "I'm gonna lay down for a bit," Micky said to the others. "Keep an eye on Mike. Make sure to keep his leg iced and change his bandage in a few hours."

"Sure thing, Micky," Peter said taking a spot on the floor next to Mike to keep an eye on him. Micky knew that Peter felt really guilty about what happened to Mike and he wished he could do something to make Peter feel better, but knew there wasn't much he could do; when Peter got into one of his guilty moods it was hard to snap him out of it. It was an endearing quality because it showed his compassion and loyalty, but it was also annoying because he had nothing to feel guilty for. Davy sat next to Peter by Mike's side and Patty sat down on Peter's other side. Marcy surprised Micky by curling up next to him. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her protectively before drifting off to sleep.

Micky woke up with a pain in his back. He remembered being kicked the day before by his father, and now he felt it. Carefully he pulled himself out of bed and shut off the alarm clock before it woke up his mother or father. He was in enough pain as it was, and the day wasn't even a minute old. He got dressed, wincing in pain when he bent over to the bottom drawer to get a pair of jeans out. He didn't normally wear jeans, but since he knew that today would be yard work day, he decided it was best.

Once he had dressed and brushed his teeth, he went into the kitchen to make himself some cereal. His mother had taped his chore list to the fridge the night before and with a heavy sigh, he read it over while eating. It was written on two sides of a piece of paper; it was going to be a long day. He finished his bowl of cereal and started to work on the kitchen. There were a lot of dishes from the night before because his parents had a few friends over and of course, they'd all gotten drunk and made as much of a mess as they could. It took him nearly 2 hours just to clean the kitchen.

The next task on his list was the yard work. He'd have to rake the gravel out front and the grass out back; he'd have to pull all the weeds around the house; he'd have to sweep the driveway and sidewalk in front of the house; he'd have to wash the windows. This task took him nearly 4 hours to do, and by the time he was done, he was incredibly thirsty. His parents had woken up by now, but they wouldn't let Micky in the house unless he had to go to the bathroom while he was working on his chores. He finally finished, and his mother brought him a small glass of water and started inspecting his work. She told him he'd done an adequate job and told him to move to the rest of the list.

By the time the sun had begun to set, Micky had been working around the house nonstop. He'd cleaned and organized the garage in addition to the yard work and cleaning the kitchen. He'd cleaned the living room while his parents had gone out to eat at a nice restaurant (he'd eaten a peanut butter sandwich for lunch) because he'd just get in their way while they were watching TV if he cleaned the living room while they were there. When they returned, he'd started on laundry for all three of them. As the laundry was going, he finally had a chance to sit and do some homework. He was forced to sit outside, because his parents didn't want to see or hear him. But he wasn't able to do it for very long as his father suddenly became enraged.

"Get in here, you little shit!" his father's voice boomed through the closed back door. Micky braced himself for what he knew was coming and entered the house.

"Yes, sir?" he asked confused as to what he had done now to make his father angry.

"What is this!?" his father boomed throwing a piece of paper at him. Micky picked it up and saw it was a letter from his teacher. His stomach hit the floor realizing his teacher was telling them that she thought someone was abusing him and that because of that she'd notified social services.

"I didn't say anything to her," Micky said quickly. Why on earth would his teacher tell them that she'd contact social services? Didn't she realize that would only make things worse?

"Really?" his father asked standing up and puffing himself up to his full terrifying height. Micky braced himself, but still fell to the ground when his father's hand hit the side of his head. Micky's vision blurred and he tried not to cry out in pain. That only gave his father the satisfaction. "You're nothing but a damn troublemaker! We give you food, clothes, and a damn roof over your head! We even give you a bed to sleep in and this is how you repay us?"

"If social services takes you away, you won't get any of those luxuries," his mother spat.

"Luxeries?" Micky repeated before he could stop himself. "My clothes are either too big or too small, and my bed has so many broken springs it's a wonder I don't get stabbed while I sleep. Not to mention I basically only eat cereal and bread all day!" Micky knew he'd done it this time. He tried to scramble away, but his father grabbed the back of his hair and threw him against the wall. Micky's head bounced off the wall and once again Micky's vision blurred.

"How dare you!" his father boomed in a voice so loud Micky was sure the neighbors would hear. Then he started screaming terrible, foul names at Micky, but he barely heard it. All he heard was blood pumping through his ears as he tried to force his vision to come back. He'd gotten several concussions over the years and as long as he focused, he could usually bring himself back and push the pain away. After everything he'd gone through over the past dozen years, he had a very high pain tolerance. He had to. If he didn't, he'd have surely broken into a thousand pieces by now. He finally was able to push himself back to the present situation just as his father grabbed him and lifted him up off the ground.

"You had better talk to that teacher at school on Monday," his mother said as Micky's father threw him across the room. "Tell her to mind her own damn business."

"I will," Micky breathed, pain coursing through his body again. He tensed up when his father strode over to him and smacked him across the face again. Micky fell to the ground and found it much harder to push himself back up. His father just laughed and kicked Micky in the stomach. Micky felt like he wanted to throw up, but swallowed it back down.

"Speak up, you little shit," his father said.

"I said I will," Micky repeated. His voice was hoarse and choked from pain, which caused his father to laugh. The laugh made Micky even sicker. The next think Micky knew, his father had stomped on his face. Micky felt blood leak out his nose as pain exploded in his head. All he heard was a ringing in his ears, and his vision went completely dark.

"Don't get blood on my carpet!" his mother shrieked. "Get up and clean that up before it stains!" Micky pulled all the strength he had and ran into the bathroom. He immediately threw up in the toilet, only just barely making it in time. He tried to breathe and focus to keep himself from passing out. He knew if he did, it would only be worse. The one time he'd done that, he'd woken up with more bruises than he could count and he couldn't even get out of bed all day, which of course meant he couldn't do that days' chores so he'd had to do them the following day in addition to the already assigned chores.

Once he'd forced himself to breathe and his vision had returned to the best he thought it was going to, he pushed himself up and grabbed the cleaning supplies to clean his blood out of the carpet. His knees were weak from pain and his movements were wobbly. His parents were sitting on the couch waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. He felt both of them staring him down as he cleaned.

"You'd better not have made a mess in that bathroom," his father cautioned when Micky finally got up.

"I didn't, sir," Micky said.

"Go clean it anyway," his mother told him. "Top to bottom. Shower, counters, mirror, floor, everything. Spotless. So help you if I find anything."

"Yes, Ma'am," Micky said walking slowly to the bathroom. When he got there, he set the cleaning supplies on the counter and sat on the floor. He made sure the door was locked behind him and he relaxed as much as he could until he would have to start cleaning. It took another 2 hours to clean the bathroom because of how much pain he was in, and he was finally able to lie down in his bed again. He hadn't eaten anything for dinner, but he would have just thrown it up anyway. His entire body ached and his head was pounding as he lay it down on his old, flat pillow, but by sheer force of exhaustion from the day's work coupled with the pain of fighting off unconsciousness allowed him to pass out within a second after climbing in bed.