A/N.: Sorry for this chapter, but I have difficulties with writing. But I don't want to annoy you with no up-dates. So I hope this is not too bad. Criticism and suggestions are very welcome
Mind the stairs!
Sleep didn't come over him. He tried to realize what had happened with him. Why was he here? She didn't want him here. He had forced him. Seth was happy he was here, because they could spend more time together. And what was going to happen with him? Hadn't Seth said something about his father being a lawyer? This meant trouble, right? It meant his social worker, social service and at the end foster home. Yes, it was bad. He needed a plan to prevent this. But what? Why hadn't Mr. Cohen be able to leave him alone? Why? He hadn't wanted to end up here. And foster home was the reason for it. They didn't understand. They thought this was bad. They never had witnessed what really bad meant. All he knew was that it was getting his ass kicked by A.J. than being part of the system. But nobody understood him. Someone knocked on the door of…in whatever he had been sleeping or not been sleeping in. Then the door opened. It was Mr. Cohen.
"Oh…good you're awake. I wanted to talk to you, before Seth wakes up and draws on you for the rest of the day." He took a seat in one of the basket chairs.
"So, I called your social worker and he'll arrive in the afternoon to talk to you about what will happen." He already knew that. He didn't need anyone telling him. Foster home. This was the only solution left for him. And no, he didn't like that idea. He only nodded and tried not to look at the man. He wasn't sure why, but he was afraid of him – especially after last night. He had the feeling as if this man could see through him - read him. As if he could predict his life and already knew everything what had happened. And this was what he hated most. He didn't want anyone knowing what had happened to him. He didn't want anyone having seen, what the man had…shit. This man knew it. This was the reason why he always had tried to 'help'. He had clearly seen through him…and…he knew everything, right? Shit. He had to go.
"Is everything okay?" The man asked.
"Uh…yeah…thank you." He said. Although he wasn't grateful for what Mr. Cohen had done.
"Ryan, everything will be alright. You just have to let some people take the strings out of your hand. Only then they can help you." Help. What did he call help? From bad to worse was a better description for their job.
"C'mon, I'm sure you like some breakfast." Mr. Cohen said and then they went into the kitchen.
The whole day was shit. He wasn't able to enjoy the time with Seth, although he was playing his first videogame – which was a lot of fun. His thoughts only wandered around his social worker and of what he was capable of doing. Yes, he hated this guy. Yes, it was his fault he had to put up with someone like him.
"Hey, do you think you can stay over the weekend? I hope you can. That would be so cool." Seth started to talk again.
"I dunno." He only answered, although he knew this wasn't going to happen. He looked into the water of the pool.
"Ryan, can you come in?" Mr. Cohen came out to the pool. He got up. He knew what this meant.
"Do you want me at your side? Talking to him? I can help." Mr. Cohen offered. Well, this was even more than his Mum ever had managed to ask.
"No, thanks. I handle it." He said and went into the kitchen.
"Hey Ryan." His social worker – Neil – said and sighed. "You don't want to tell me how long things are going that way or?"
"What do you mean?" he tried to play the innocent.
"Your Mum's stay in hospital, your absence from school, you faking your Mums signature and now this." He pointed at his face.
"Ryan, you're in serious trouble right now. Your principal is pressing charges against you, because of falsification of documents and he was the one telling me your Mum being in hospital. We had a deal saying if you have trouble at home, you come to me. And now I'm here, seeing you didn't stick to your part of the deal. What am I supposed to do now?" He only shrugged his shoulders. He already knew what he had to do. So why asking stupid questions? His opinion wouldn't count anyway.
"Foster home is the last option I have left now."
"Yeah sure…and if I had come to you earlier, I already would be there. Thus I could at least enjoy my last days of freedom." He had to give his anger space. He hated this hypocritical behaviour.
"Ryan, I know things are a little harder for you, but…"
"Then you should know, why foster homes are the last place I want to be." He said determining.
"Sorry Ryan, but this isn't in my hand. I have no choice." He had no choice. He wasn't even looking for another one. He got up.
"Ryan, where are you going?"
"Why do you care?"
"Ryan, I only can recommend no running. There's a charge against you, you already ran from us several times and you have priors. So you better think of what you do." Yeah, sure. No, he wasn't listening to Neil. He hated to be treated like a thing. He would stop them. No matter how much trouble he would get.
"Ryan…don't try to get into more trouble than you're already in!" Neil called but he didn't listen. He went down the driveway. Honestly, if this social worker cared, why didn't he run after him? Why didn't he try to stop him?
"Hi, you're here?" Shit. He didn't need that. Not that he stopped liking her, but the moment wasn't the best.
"Yeah…just on a run." He answered.
"Why?" Why? Why did people leave? There were thousand reasons and he knew them all. He only couldn't come up with one of them. He couldn't lie to her.
"Just have to leave."
"Do you come back? I mean, I wanted to get you to know a little more." She said, smiling at him. Yes, this was exactly what he wanted too, but this never was going to happen. He had to flee from hell, no matter how important the reasons where for him to stay.
"Uh…just…I don't think so." He hated himself. Rage grew inside of him. And who had he to thank for this misery? Mr. Cohen and his social worker. Both weren't able to believe he was coming to terms.
"What? But…I thought you and Seth were friends…I…I thought we…I…"
"I'm sorry, really. But I have no other choice." He tried to hold back his anger. Why couldn't she just be pissed - like every girl would be in her position - and tell him what sucker he was? Her understanding behaviour wasn't really helpful for him.
"Why? What's wrong? I…I can help…you."
"Sorry, but…you can't…nobody can." He felt despaired and helpless. But he stuck to reality. Even if he stayed, he wouldn't see her again. He was going to end up in foster home and thus he was going to disappear from the world.
"Why?" He saw how tears were forming in her eyes. He didn't want to hurt her. Really. He swore if he was able to change the circumstances, he did. But he wasn't.
"I…Shit…I'm a bunch of problems you should stay away from." He admitted. She would lose her interest anyway, when she found out about his life.
"I can't understand you."
"Okay,…listen, if I don't piss off, they put me into a foster home and then…my life is over for the next two years." Why was he telling her the truth? She …
"Ryan?!" A male voice screamed after him. Now he had to run. No quite sneaking out, but bloody run for survival.
"Sorry." He whispered and without thinking he gave her a kiss onto her cheek. The first and the last time he was going to kiss this smooth skin. But there was no time to think about that. He had to run.
"Ryan!" Another voice called, but he didn't listen. He only thought about running and not stumbling over his own feet.
The scene changed around him, he had reached the pier. He stopped and tried to regain his breath. Where should he go to? Maybe he could go and search for his brother. Nice idea. Since three years he hadn't gotten any sign from him. He had to leave the state, if he didn't want them to find him. Shit, where was the bus station in Newport? He only knew the line to Chino, but no other. Hitchhiking! This was it. They would lose him in less than a few seconds.
"Ryan?" Shit! He turned around. Shit! Neil had received support. A lot. One social worker he had seen once or twice and…Why wasn't Mr. Cohen able to keep himself out of his business? Well, he had no time to think about it. He had to run, because they came closer. His chest started to hurt. He paid no attention to it. But yes, it felt as if his chest started to explode.
"Ryan, stop, NOW!" He didn't listen. He ran.
Shit! Stairs! Not good in…He had no choice. The other social worker was too close to think about…Shit! Why were they chasing him? Why did this car stay there in his way at the end of the stairs? This wasn't fair. But he had no choice.
"Ryan, if you don't stop NOW, I have to take action!" The man screamed. He was too close, was already close enough to catch him…Shit! He felt something hitting his back. He lost balance, stumbled over and then he was on his way down stairs. Every single stair was pure pain. It felt like an eternity. Where was the end? There it was. With a last heavy thud he landed on solid ground. His body was one bloody pain. But…yes his arms and hands hurt most. He got back on all fours. His arms and hands were one bloody graze. Ouch…his right knee hurt.
"Are you alright kid?" Mr. Cohen kneeled beside him. Fuck, I fell down six stony stairs. How would you feel afterwards? He felt tears forming in his eyes. Yes, the gazes and his knee were hurting such awful he only wanted to cry. But they weren't allowed to see him being weak.
"C'mon, I help you up." Mr. Cohen helped him to get up and then led him back to the stairs, where he sat down. He handed him a tissue for his bleeding hands, but this wasn't enough as his arms were bleeding too.
"Ryan, I told you not to run." Neil told him off.
"Yes, and your colleague has had no reason to push the boy." Mr. Cohen snapped back. He didn't care right now. He carefully pulled up his right trouser. His knee was bleeding like hell. Yep, this would need some stitches. No he was ruled by pure anger. This man had pushed him? Then he'll need to know what pain really meant. He knew violence was no solution. But he wasn't able to control himself.
"Ryan, kid don't…" He wasn't sure what Mr. Cohen wanted to tell him.
He wasn't able to control his anger. He only felt how one punch threw this man onto the floor – like he had thrown him onto the floor. And then he only noticed that after three or four punches, his fist was bloody – by the man's blood.
