Ricardo squinted as he rounded the bend and was met by a swarm of flashing lights in the distance. His heart immediately dropped into his stomach when he realized whose house they were crowded in front of. "Jesus, shit."
It was dark out, so although he wanted to get there as fast as he could, he had to be careful about the nosy onlookers standing in the street and gossiping. The blinding lights forced him to slow down. Ricardo found a parking spot on the curb a couple houses up to stay out of the way of the emergency vehicles. He jogged down the street, surveying the scene in front of him for a familiar face. However, neither of the house's residents were in sight.
How could this have happened? I just got off the phone with him, and although he'd been a blubbering mess, he hadn't said anything about his father being pissed at him.
Ricardo scanned each police car to see if Drake was in any of them, but his search came up short. He glanced at the front door, which was wide open as officers shuffled in and out. What he saw next made him sick to his stomach.
"Oh shit."
Being rolled out of the house by two men wearing coroner's jackets was a stretcher carrying a long black bag that was zipped up.
"Oh shit. Oh my God." Ricardo covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he felt nausea rising up his throat.
All this time, he complied with Drake's request to keep everything a secret, and now he immediately regretted that decision. He should've known that Martin would go too far one day. It was only a matter of time. All Ricardo could do was blame himself for not getting Drake out of this terrible home situation whether the boy wanted his help or not. He had been aware of it for over a year, and he'd done nothing about it. Not one god damn thing. And now it was too late. A life was lost. A good friend was gone, and nothing was going to bring him back.
And it was all Ricardo's fault.
The man stood frozen, lost in his own thoughts. His grief quickly turned to rage: rage for himself for keeping quiet, rage for Martin for being the worst kind of person imaginable, rage for Drake's family for putting him out on the streets and not being there for him, even rage for Drake for being too spineless to stand up for himself and tell his father when enough was enough. Drake shouldn't have had to put up with this. He was the last person who should've been treated in this way. Martin was a monster, and Drake deserved better. His friend had always put himself down - always spoke negatively of himself - because of the things his father said to him. He'd never realized just how special and talented he truly was. He thought he was worthless. He thought he was a piece of shit. And he'd died thinking that. Now he'd never know otherwise. He would never know how much Ricardo loved him. He'd never know about all of the potential Ricardo saw in him.
All he had left was the last words he'd said to him over the phone, and then just like that, Drake was dead.
"Ingram," an officer said as he stepped out of the house and made his way down the porch steps. He was met at the bottom by another policeman. "Take those cuffs off of Mr. Parker."
"Yes, sir."
Ricardo's eyes followed him over to an ambulance that was parked in the yard by a line of trees. He clenched his jaw and his fists tightened with fury as the man opened the back door and climbed inside. He was out of sight for a moment as he uncuffed the murderer, then he made his way back over to the house. Before he knew what he was doing, Ricardo was stomping across the yard with one thought running through his mind: I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fucking kill him.
When Ricardo made it to the vehicle, he whipped open the back door and came face to face with someone he didn't expect to see. "Drake?!"
"What the hell?!" one of the paramedics exclaimed.
Drake looked scared to death, and the quickness and unexpectedness of the door opening had caused him to flinch with terror. He was openly crying and trembling, and he had a blanket over him to cover his naked private region. "Ricky?" the boy's voice cracked.
"Holy shit!" He started to climb up, but was stopped by one of the two paramedics.
"You can't be in here."
"Please. Let him in," Drake tried. It was obvious that he was having trouble speaking for some reason.
"We're about to head out. You can follow behind us."
Ricardo looked over at his friend, the situation overwhelming him, but hesitantly, he nodded and stepped out of the ambulance.
"Ricky?" Drake was hurt by his choice. For the first time in a long time, he didn't want to be left alone.
"It's okay," the man said. "I'll be right behind you, and I'll find you the second we get there."
"Don't," the young man begged.
"You'll be okay."
However, Ricardo wasn't so sure about that. When one of the paramedics reached over to close the door, he stumbled back in complete and utter shock. Martin had been an asshole, but never in a million years would Ricardo have guessed that murder was something that he was capable of. Jesus, and his own son! He couldn't imagine the pain that Drake was in, not to mention his mental state knowing that he had to kill his own dad just to stay alive. His friend would never be the same person again.
"GAAAAH! STOP! STOP! PLEASE, STOP!"
Ricardo's heart broke hearing Drake's screeches of pain. He couldn't see exactly what was happening to him because a group of doctors and nurses were surrounding him, and he had been told to stay out of the way.
"STOP! STOP! STOP! RICKY, TELL THEM TO STOP! PLEASE!" His voice trailed off as he sobbed. "Oh, God..."
"We're almost finished," a nurse said. She sounded heartless although she was trying to offer him some comfort. "Try to be still."
"GGGMMMMM! MMMM!" Drake clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. He was breathing so hard through them that saliva sprayed from his lips.
Ricardo felt himself getting emotional when his friend called out for his help again. This was absolute torture. He hated that there was nothing that he could do about the situation. He wished that Martin was still alive so that he could beat the shit out of him. That would make him feel better about his current uselessness. "They'll be done soon," was the only comfort that he could offer.
Megan looked through the vending machine glass for a moment. Chips or chocolate? Chips or chocolate? Ch...iiips. She pressed A3, then watched as a small bag dropped down. She pushed her hand through the flap and pulled out her snack, then started making her way back to her mother's room.
Audrey wasn't doing great. She was alive, and that was a relief. However, she was having a lot of trouble getting feeling into her legs. It was hard on everyone, but Megan couldn't begin to imagine what her mother was going through. She was tough. That was for sure. She never once cried about what had happened. At least, not in front of her daughter. Megan had walked in on Walter sobbing and venting about his anger towards Drake a couple times. She guessed he only felt comfortable doing it when she wasn't around.
It was hard to believe that Drake would do something like this. She knew that he hadn't meant for this to happen. She knew that he had been high. Megan had let him do his thing since this whole mess started, but now it was hard for her to not be angry with him. It had almost cost them Audrey's life. This wasn't fun anymore. However, Walter's radical solution of kicking Drake out of the family wasn't something that Megan could be behind. Drake was her brother after all. He was family. He made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. For example, Megan's greatest regret was not putting a stop to Martin's brutal punishments that he dished out on Drake every weekend. If she had blown the whistle on that, would he ever had resorted to drugs as some sort of coping mechanism in the first place? And if he never started using, Audrey never would've ended up here. Was this all inadvertently Megan's fault?
"AAAHHHHHH!"
Megan stopped in her tracks. She turned and looked at the closed door that she had just passed.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
She knew that scream all too well.
*FLASHBACK*
"AAAHHHHH! Dad, stop it!"
Crash!
"AAAAHHHHHH!"
Six-year-old Megan sat in the hallway outside of her bedroom. She hadn't meant for this to happen. Or...maybe she did. But now that it was, she regretted it. She had just been filled with so much rage that it had kinda slipped out. He hadn't meant to break her doll. She knew that. In fact, he'd even tried to fix it himself with the hot glue gun before apologizing to her. Why did she rat him out?
"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YOU SNOT-NOSED LITTLE SHIT?!"
"Yes!"
Smack!
"Yes, sir," thirteen-year-old Drake corrected, his voice muffled through the closed door. "Please, stop, sir."
"I swear to Christ, Drake, if you touch another one of her fucking toys-"
Megan felt terrible now. He didn't have any toys here. Really, his only option was to watch television, but that was only if their father wasn't already in the living room. Usually, Drake stayed hidden in the bedroom or outside - somewhere close enough, though, that he could hear and come running if Martin summoned him for lunchtime or chores.
"-I will break every single one of your goddamn fingers! Do you understand me?!"
There was silence. Megan could only assume that he nodded meekly, for Drake never would've left their father's questions unanswered. Next, she heard the sound of several spankings.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!"
"I don't fucking hear you answering me!"
"Yes, sir! I understand! I won't play with her toys anymore! I promise! Ow!"
"The next time you see her, you better fucking apologize."
Thinking that it would make his father a little bit proud of him for taking the initiative, Drake said, "I already apologized."
"THEN APOLOGIZE AGAIN, YOU DUMB MAGGOT!"
The boy's voice was shaky. "Yes, sir."
Crash!
"And I better not hear one more goddamn thing come out of your sister's mouth about you messing with her or her things or I will beat you into next week, you worthless sack of shit."
Megan jumped when the door suddenly opened.
"I thought I told you to go play outside," Martin said, closing the door.
The young girl was silent.
"We talked about this. Remember? Drake is only getting what he deserves."
"But he's always sad."
"He's just jealous because he's not perfect like you, sweetie." Martin squatted down and put his hand on her cheek with a smile, and suddenly, it was as if he were a completely different person - the one she knew and loved more than anything. "Who's my precious little princess?"
She couldn't help but smile at the attention her parent was giving her. "Me!"
"That's right. And you know what a princess's biggest job is?"
"Brushing her horsie's hair."
"No, but close. A princess's biggest job is to keep all the secrets safe, so you keep this a secret between you and me. Don't even tell your brother that you heard anything. Because if you tell anyone, I'm gonna get hurt, and then Drake's gonna get hurt. And you don't want your daddy to get hurt, do you?"
The child shook her head.
"Super secret pinkies?" Martin held out his pinkie finger, and Megan wrapped her own around his.
"Super secret pinkies." She leaned forwards and kissed her hand while he kissed his own, then they pulled apart.
"Alright, that's my girl." The man ruffled his fingers through her hair to mess it up as he pushed himself onto his feet. "Drake wasn't hungry. Looks like you get to pick dinner again tonight. What do you want?"
"Mmm, ice cream!" Megan's eyes lit up.
"How about chicken nuggets and mac and cheese?"
"Yeah, okay," she said. "After I eat my ice cream, though."
Martin smiled, then disappeared down the hall and into the kitchen.
Megan opened the door to her bedroom. She saw Drake sitting on the floor facing the wall opposite of her and holding her Barbie whilst observing his glue job. His muscles visibly tensed when he heard the door open, for he feared that his father had come back for more.
"Drake?"
His knees were to his chest, and he hugged them for comfort. The young boy sniffled and wiped his eyes to hide the fact that he'd been weeping. "Why did you tell?" he said, his voice expressing his lack of understanding of the cruel world around him. "I said I was sorry. I even promised to buy you a new one with my allowance." He then set the doll down onto the floor next to himself, and that's when Megan saw three dime-sized, red burns that Martin had left on him when he'd repeatedly pressed the metal end of the hot glue gun against the boy's skin.
"Drake-"
"Just leave me alone."
"I just-"
"Can't you take a fucking hint and go away?!" the thirteen-year-old exclaimed. "I don't want you here!"
"Excuse me?!"
Megan hadn't heard her father creep up behind her. She looked back at her brother, who had turned and was gazing up at the man with pure fear in his eyes.
"I-I..."
"I microwaved your dinner, Megan. It's on the table."
Her eyes moved over to her brother once more. He was staring at her with the most pleading eyes she had ever seen, and he shook his head.
"Go eat," Martin said firmly.
And Megan obeyed. She didn't want anything to happen to her father, and she didn't want anything to happen to her brother. She was scared. She was only six. All she knew was that the best thing to do was to try and ignore it. Once she was gone, the door was slammed closed.
"Who THE FUCK did you think you were talking to?!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, Dad. Honest." Drake was stumbling over his words.
"You are NOTHING! You aren't even worthy to be the dirt on the bottom of your sister's shoe! So I don't know where you get off talking to her like that!"
"Please, don't punish me."
"Oh, you're gonna be punished all right. My fucking food is getting cold having to deal with your shit."
Drake held his hands up for protection when the man stomped across the room. His shirt was grabbed, and he was shoved against the dresser. "Ah!" His hair was snatched so that he was forced to look at his own reflection. He hissed at the pain in his scalp.
"I am worthless. Say it."
Drake gulped. "I am worthless."
"Good. Now I'm gonna go eat my fucking dinner and watch some tv with your sister, and you are gonna fucking stand here and keep repeating that to yourself. You don't move from this spot until I come back and tell you to. You hear me? And if I come in here and find out that you aren't obeying me, I will snap that little neck of yours like a twig. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
Martin let him go with a rough shove, then he backed away a bit. He nodded his chin towards him. "Go on," he urged rudely.
"I am worthless. I-"
"Don't look at my reflection. Look at yourself."
The child met his own gaze like he had been instructed to do, then he continued. "I am worthless. I am worthless. I am worthless. I am worthless."
Martin turned and left the room.
"I am worthless."
He closed the door behind himself and even waited a full two minutes just to see if Drake would stop before finally joining Megan in the kitchen.
"I am worthless."
He'd checked on him after dinner and before watching television, and he still heard his voice emanating from the other side of the door.
"I am worthless."
After an entire Barbie Repunzel movie, Martin carried a sleeping Megan to her bed.
"I am worthless."
He was silent as he approached the door, for he wanted to catch the boy disobeying.
"I am worthless."
However, his son stood there staring at his own reflection with the most broken expression on his face as he repeated those same three words.
"I am worthless. I am worthless. I am worthless."
*END FLASHBACK*
Ricardo sniffled as he stared at his friend. Drake didn't deserve this. He was a selfish asshole sometimes, sure. But he had never done anything bad enough to make this a justified punishment. Even in his sleep, it was obvious that he was in a lot of pain. Drake had screamed at and cussed out every nurse and doctor in sight. He'd even begged them - like, actually begged - for some sort of pain medication. His doctor, Dr. Mido (the same Dr. Mido who had been assigned to him during his overdose) was hesitant to give him the meds because of Drake's ongoing struggle with addiction. Sometimes, it seemed simple: you should never let a man suffer. However, there was so much more at play here. Wasn't this little bit of pain better than a lifetime of suffering? Drake had argued that he was only stuck on cough medicine. He'd tried to convince the man that it wasn't a big deal. He wasn't getting clean any time soon whether he got the painkillers or not. Dr. Mido had suggested the possibility of these prescription drugs opening up a gateway for harder drugs, such as heroin. Drake had replied with, "I have no friends! Where the fuck am I gonna get heroin?!" At one point, the doctor told the young man that it was on his file that he had requested to not be given any pain medications, but Drake had informed him that, "My fucking dad said that! The last time he put me in the fucking hospital! He wanted me to suffer because I came here! You're still gonna let him fucking win?! Don't you see what he did to me?!" Finally, they had compromised. Dr. Mido promised to give him painkillers, but he couldn't promise that it would be much. Just enough to relieve a bit of pain.
So now Drake had finally managed to doze off. He hadn't been asleep long, and he'd already woken up twice in the last thirty minutes alone. Everything that had happened in the last couple hours was absolutely insane. Ricardo still couldn't even begin to wrap his head around it. Mr. Parker was dead, and Drake was laying in a hospital bed with a broken collar bone, a broken wrist, a broken fibula, a broken nose, a broken jaw, three severed fingers that were luckily still able to be reattached, three stab wounds, and several nasty-looking bruises. It wasn't fair. Martin shouldn't have gotten to have the easy way out. He should've rotted in prison. He should've gotten beaten and gang-raped every day for the rest of his life. That would've been true justice.
"Mm," Drake whimpered, his eyelids squeezing tightly together. He then opened them.
"You alright?" Ricardo asked with concern, scooting his chair even closer.
"I'm really hurting." His voice was a whisper because even straining to speak at a reasonable volume sent sharp aches throughout his body.
"I know, man. Is there anything I can do? Do you need me to fix your pillow? Are you comfortable?"
"I'm okay." His mouth was wired shut to allow his jaw time to heal. Drake hated not being able to talk plainly. He couldn't move anything other than his swollen lips.
"Maybe you should try to go back to sleep. You really need some rest."
Drake agreed. He closed his eyes again. His ears were ringing at the consistent beeping sound on the machine nearby. Every time he tried to fall asleep, he always wondered how he possibly could with all that racket, but somehow, he did it. "Hey, Ricky?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For staying. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Of course. I'm always here for you."
"I'm really sorry about how I acted-"
"Don't. None of that matters now. We're cool. Let's just skip the mushy stuff and do that bro thing where we just nod and suppress our emotions like douches."
Drake's lips curved upwards and he let go of a chuckle, which was soon replaced with a hiss and wince.
"You okay?"
"Can you hand me my water?"
Ricardo stood and grabbed his cup that the hospital had given him. "It's empty. I'll go get some more." The man left the room, then closed the door quietly behind him. He didn't make it far before he was approached.
"Ricardo, is that Drake you're with?" Megan asked.
"Jesus, where did you come from?"
"I've been waiting to see. I thought I heard him earlier, but I wasn't really sure. Is he okay?"
"Yeah, he's..." He couldn't meet her eyes. All he could think about was the fact that her father was dead at this very moment and she had no idea. Was he supposed to tell her that? "He's not great. But he's Drake, you know. He'll pull through."
"What happened to him?"
"Where are your parents? They should know that he's here."
"They're down that way." She pointed down the hall. "Quite a ways."
"Maybe you should go get them."
"Mom can't leave her room right now, but I'll get Walter."
Walter looked out of breath when he made it to Drake's room. His panic mixed with his fast-walking made him short of breath. The second he saw his step-son, his jaw dropped. He stepped inside, his feet dragging. He felt sick to his stomach. "What the hell happened?!" he said with pain in his voice.
"Oh my God," Josh said from behind him.
Ricardo stood from the chair that he had been sitting in. Since Drake had fallen back to sleep when he'd disappeared for a water run, he moved over to the two. He was relieved to see that they had left Megan behind.
"How did this happen?!" Walter asked again.
Ricardo didn't even know how to begin. "It's... There's some things...you need to know about. It was...it was his dad."
"Martin did this?!" Walter looked on with disbelief. "I don't understand. I don't... Why would he do this to his own son? There's no way he would possibly...even be capable of..." He shook his head.
"When Drake was talking to the police earlier, he said something about a car accident involving his mom. He said it had set Mr. Parker off."
Walter's body was filling with rage. "Where is that son of a bitch? I'm gonna kill him." He turned to leave the room, but Ricardo grabbed his arm, so he met his eyes again.
"Um...he's..." The man shook his head. "He's gone."
"What do you mean gone?" Josh questioned, his voice shaky with nerves.
"I mean...he's dead."
"Jesus Christ!" Walter exclaimed quietly, still mindful of the sleeping boy. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get anymore information out of Ricardo once Drake wakes up.
"Drake was in a situation where it was either himself or Mr. Parker. He'd already been stabbed three times, and his dad was trying to strangle him. He said he was just trying to get him to let go, but he must've accidentally hit an artery or something because..."
"Oh my God." Walter looked horrified. It was devastating to hear what his son had gone through.
"I still don't understand," Josh said. "Why would Martin want to hurt him?"
Ricardo turned and watched his friend for a moment to make sure that he was still sleeping, then he faced the two men standing before him. "Drake will be pissed if he finds out I told you this but..." He had to tell them. He'd leaned his lesson on keeping quiet about these sorts of matters. "Drake's dad was... Drake was a victim of on-going violent physical...and sexual abuse."
Walter lost it then. He was absolutely crushed. He'd invited Martin over for Christmas dinner! And this is how he repays him? This is how he treats his family?! And what about Megan? She's been around him unsupervised plenty of times!
"How long?" Walter asked, but he had a hundred other questions. "You knew about this?"
"I...I didn't know about the sexual abuse. I just heard the police ask him about some explicit pictures and a video they found in Mr. Parker's room. I did find out that his dad was hitting him, though. And I really regret not saying anything. Drake always asked me not to, and no one thought Mr. Parker would snap like he did."
Although Josh had an idea, he needed specific answers. "What were the pictures of?"
"I don't know. I didn't look. Drake was really ashamed of them, though. He wanted to trash them, but they said they'd have to keep them for evidence."
"How long has this been going on?" He took charge of the questioning because he saw that his father was too broken up at the moment to do so.
"He told the police that the physical abuse started when he was thirteen. He said his dad blamed him for the divorce."
"And the...other thing?" Josh said. "How long has that been going on?"
"He said it started about two and a half years ago."
"Jesus Christ..."
Walter finally spoke up again. "What kind of sexual abuse was it?"
"What?"
"Was he touched inappropriately? Was it oral? Was it full-on penetration?"
"Uh..." Ricardo felt uncomfortable with the question, but he answered it. "He was raped."
"Goddamnit!"
"Dad," Josh said to remind him to stay quiet.
"I think it was really all of those, though. He said Mr. Parker made him say and do things during the...during the sexual assault. To his dad. To himself. Or else he would pretty much torture him."
"That goddamn trailer trash piece of sh... How many times? How many times did it happen?"
"Drake said it was, like, once in a blue moon at first. But it got worse when he stayed with him over the summer. And then it became almost daily when he started living with him again."
The father and son spoke at the exact same time.
Josh: "Daily?!"
Walter: "Living with him?!"
The oldest man in the room continued. "You mean to tell me he's been at his father's the entire time?!" When Ricardo nodded, he said, "That's impossible. Megan stays over on the weekends."
"He would either find someone else to stay with or his dad would lock him in the basement until Megan was gone."
"So basically Martin held Drake hostage from us?" said Josh.
Ricardo sighed. "It was my understanding that it was Drake's idea. His dad allowed him to freely get high there. He even let him have the money for his pills sometimes. Drake thought you guys would only try to stop him."
Josh wanted to cry right now, but his father already was, and one of them needed to be strong. He placed his hand on his dad's shoulder.
"I can't handle this right now," Walter said. "What am I supposed to tell Audrey? What am I supposed to tell Megan? Her father's dead."
Ricardo looked down at the floor with a shrug. He had no words to offer. What could he possibly say to make this situation better? He couldn't even begin to imagine what Walter was going through. His wife was in the hospital, and now his son was, too. Breaking the news to Audrey and Megan would be hard. It was a position that Ricardo didn't envy.
Ricardo said, "I can...I can leave...if you want some time alone. He's been waking up every fifteen minutes or so."
Walter shook his head. "No, Drake shouldn't be alone, and I don't think I can be here right now. This is too much."
Ricky nodded his head.
"If you don't mind staying," Josh added.
"No, of course. I'll stay as long as he needs me."
Walter patted his bicep. "Thanks. You're a really good friend. I'm glad Drake has you in his life."
Ricardo nodded shyly, then watched as the two left. He turned back to the sleeping boy, then sat down in the same spot he had been in for the past couple hours.
Drake groaned, and his face contorted with pain.
Ricardo, who had dozed off, snapped to and leaned forwards in his chair. "Hey, you alright?"
"Oh, shit," Drake whispered.
"What's wrong?"
"Is it time for more pain meds yet?"
It wasn't anywhere close to time, but Ricardo wasn't going to tell him that. "Not yet."
"God, this sucks." he whined. "I can't believe I have to go through this again. The first time almost killed me." He scooted himself up, for he was trying to get comfortable and find a better resting position.
"Let me help you." Ricky stood and offered his assistance. When he was done, he asked, "You thirsty?"
When he saw the boy nod, he grabbed his cup and held it for him. He pointed the straw towards his friend's lips. Drake put his lips on it, and since his jaw was wired shut, he had to suck the liquid through his teeth. He wasn't sure when he'd last had anything to drink, so he sipped in a lot - probably too much, for he started coughing.
"Take it easy."
Drake squeezed his eyes closed as his body jerked with each deep cough. He felt pain all over: his stomach, his shoulder blade, his entire back, his collar bone area, his wrist, his hand, his face. Ricardo grabbed a paper towel, then wiped the water from Drake's chin.
"Thanks," the boy said sheepishly.
"Don't mention it."
"I feel so helpless."
"Shut up. You're gonna be helpless for a while, so you might as well get over the embarrassment of having someone feed you and help you do everything now."
"Maybe you should work on your bedside manner."
Ricardo flashed a smile, then sat down again. "You slept a lot longer this time."
"I wish I could just sleep forever."
The man didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He watched Drake, who stared blankly at the wall. They were quiet for a while, but the younger of the two finally spoke up.
"My dad's dead."
Ricardo took in a breath, then slowly let it out. "Yeah," he whispered.
Drake's eyes welled up with tears. At first, it seemed as though he was holding it together, but instead, he suddenly fell apart.
"Hey, hey," Ricardo whispered, touching his forearm. "Try not to get upset."
"How am I supposed to tell Megan that her dad is dead? That I killed him?"
"You did what you had to do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now."
"I should've let him kill me."
"Don't say that."
"He was so good to her, and I'm so shit. Why am I even here anyways? My life is so pointless. I am worthless."
"You're not worthless!" Ricardo stood, then sat down on the edge of his bed. He felt like maybe being right in his face would help to get his point across. "I fucking love you, bruh. I couldn't even begin to imagine my life without you and all your chaos."
Drake lifted his eyebrows and smiled appreciatively as a tear quickly raced down his cheek. He sniffled. "You're saying bruh now?"
Ricardo laughed. "Julio's stupid slang words are starting to rub off on me. That's what I get for trying to use them ironically against him."
Drake really appreciated his friend's presence. He couldn't even imagine having to be here alone with his thoughts. Ricardo made everything better.
"God, I need to stop being a little bitch." He sniffled, then reached up with his good arm and wiped at his wet cheeks. "I'm crying every five fucking minutes."
"I mean, at least you said it." Ricardo playfully expressed a look of innocence.
Drake let go of a laugh. "Fuck you."
Ricky smirked. "No, but in all serious, though, you are the toughest guy I know. Honestly, I would be bawling my eyes out if I were you. I mean, Jesus, you should've seen me when I had to get those shots after that snake bit me a couple years ago. Oh my God, and the I.V." He shivered at the thought. "I fucking hate needles."
Drake smiled at the mental image he had in his head. He remembered Julio telling him that all the nurses had been irritated and thought that Ricardo was being a big baby. It had all been so insane to him because Ricky was like a rock. He fearlessly stepped in the middle of fights and kicked people out of his bar all the time. To Drake, needles hurt a thousand times less than punches. His dad's fist hurt more than most things. Well, now he'd never have to feel that same pain again.
As the memories of the past left Drake's mind and the stress of his current situation flooded his thoughts again, his face fell. Ricardo saw this and tried a coping tactic other than humor.
"You wanna talk about it?"
Drake's red eyes watered over yet again in less than one second, but he was able to keep the tears from falling. "I just have a hundred different things running through my head, and my mind is racing, and I don't wanna say anything because I don't want you to feel guilty for keeping my secret."
Ricardo sighed as their conversation took on a more serious turn. "I'm gonna feel guilty no matter what. I could've stopped it. I didn't know it was that bad. I mean, when I would see you, you always had a new black eye or a new bruise, but I just thought maybe he hit you every now and then. I didn't know how much you were hiding under your jacket until last summer, and when I found out, I still didn't stop it. And I didn't know about..." At first, he didn't want to say it. He knew that it would make Drake uncomfortable now that everything was out in the open, and his friend probably wanted Ricardo to pretend he'd never heard him talk to the police about it, but Ricky needed him to know that it wasn't something that Drake should be ashamed about, so he put it out there to open up a doorway in case the boy needed to get some things off of his chest. "...the sexual assault."
It was a big deal. Ricky knew that, if Drake didn't talk about it with him, then he wouldn't talk about it at all, and it wasn't healthy for him to feel the need to go through it alone and bottle things up. That hadn't worked out so well after Meelah had died. Drake's self-isolation and erratic behavior is what had led to the young man's suicide attempt, and Ricardo was damn sure not going to allow that to happen again.
"I'm so embarrassed," Drake said, averting his watery eyes.
"And I understand that. I..." Ricardo paused briefly, and then he started speaking. "I've never told anyone this. But you know how mine and Julio's parents have that heavy Catholic background, and how we practically spent more of our childhood at church than with friends? And then I broke away from the church and got involved in a gang and had a lot of legal trouble?"
Drake remembered because a super young Julio had always talked about how badass his older brother was up until he found out that Ricardo had landed himself in jail for nearly beating someone to death.
"The reason I rebelled so hard against the church and everything that I knew to be right was because one of the priests used to touch me inappropriately. It's the stereotypical pedophile priest story. I was so ashamed that I never told the police, I never told my parents, and I never told Julio. I've kept that inside of me for almost fifteen years. So I know what you're going through. I know what it's like to feel completely powerless and weak."
Drake's bottom lip quivered no matter how hard he tried to stiffen it.
"And it took me so long to realize that I was actually neither of those things. I survived that. I went through one hell of a rough patch because of it, but I straightened myself out in prison. I became the best possible version of myself that I could be, and I want that for you." This was the first time that Ricardo had opened up to anyone about his past, and talking about it had him in tears. "Whatever you do from this point on, do it because it's what you want. Don't you dare let him hold you back anymore. And I swear to you, the second you let go of everything and find your self-worth and fall in love with who you are as a person, you're gonna feel so free."
A strangled sob left Drake's lips and the dam behind his eyelids broke, releasing endless streams of tears. His voice cracked so much that it was almost impossible to understand him when he said, "But it's so hard." He allowed his friend to pull him into a hug even though it wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world. "I just want to die," he admitted.
"But what about your mom? What about Megan and your brother and your step-dad? What about Mindy and Kenzly? What about me and Julio and Stevie? What about everyone who loves you and cares about you and prays for you and thinks about you every single day? We're all rooting for you, I swear. And believe me, I know how exhausting it is to keep fighting, but if you give up now, you're letting your dad win, and you'll be hurting people so much more than he's convinced you that you are now just by being alive. Everything he's ever said to you was a lie." He could feel the young man's torso shaking against his own as they cried together. "Think about Meelah. She was always honest, no matter how brutal the truth was. Did she ever even once tell you that your life wasn't worth living?"
Drake was too much of an emotional wreck to answer him.
"She only ever wanted all the best for you. No matter how you felt about yourself or what your dad told you, she always thought you deserved to be happy. And I guarantee you, she's looking down at you and wishing that she could tell you how proud she is of you and how much she loves you."
Sobs left Drake with those words.
"She would want you to stay here. She would want you to keep fighting. She would want you to better yourself and to stay strong for your family. They are the ones who need you right now. Julio needs you here. I need you. You mean so much more to us than you could ever understand, so when you feel down, you remember that. Okay?"
When Ricardo pulled away, Drake nodded his head. He wiped his eyes and sniffled. "Thanks, Ricky," he said.
"It's Ricardo," the man corrected, and he felt good when he saw a small smile creep up on Drake's lips. "And you know that you can talk to me about absolutely anything because you're not alone."
The young man nodded, then thanked him again.
"I love you, bruh."
Drake smiled through his tears. "I love you, too." He laughed at how unmanly they sounded, but he didn't mind it.
Josh softly wrapped his knuckles against the door, then pushed it open. He stepped inside the room and saw Ricardo standing in front of the large window and gazing out at the world below. The man turned to him, then made his way across the room as not to wake his sleeping friend.
"How is he?" Josh whispered.
"He's in a lot of pain. He popped some of his stitches open earlier, so they had to sew the wound on his stomach back up."
Josh looked past him and at his brother, who was laying on the hospital bed. Even during his slumber, it was obvious just how much pain he was in.
"But he's gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, they said he'll pull through just fine," Ricardo said. "They've gotta do surgery, though. For his broken wrist. I think they have to put screws in or something. I'm not sure. But the doctor hasn't even been in yet to schedule the surgery. They said it would be a couple days."
"Jesus," Josh said.
He really didn't know what to say. It was hard to even think of his brother the same now that he knew a bunch of secrets that Drake had been lying to him about since he'd met him. Did he know who Drake was at all?
"Why don't I give you two some time?"
"No, it's okay. I was just coming to check on him. I don't wanna kick you out."
Ricardo could see that the boy, like his step-father, didn't like to be in this room, but he wasn't going to let them keep pretending that everything was fine. "No, it's okay. I haven't eaten all day. I'm gonna run to Chick-Fil-A and grab some dinner. Drake will appreciate the company." He went over to the sink counter and grabbed his keys. "Have you eaten? You want me to get you anything?"
"No, I'm okay." He was still uneasy about being left alone with his brother. "Thanks."
"If Drake wakes up while I'm gone, don't tell him where I went to eat. He's been begging me for Chick-Fil-A all day, but the doctors have him on a liquid diet right now because of his jaw. Don't let him talk you into giving him anything."
Josh nodded, and when Ricardo was gone, he looked at his brother. He prayed that Drake stayed asleep until his friend returned. He had no idea what to say to him. How was he supposed to face him after everything? No wonder he was a drug addict. How else could he possibly cope with the things he had gone through: frequent beatings, daily rapes? Drake had only ever needed someone to be there for him, but instead, he was put down and scolded and judged by his own family. He couldn't even begin to imagine how lonely his step-brother must've felt. This was a rough year for Drake. First, he felt personally at fault for Meelah's death, and then he'd been forced to kill his own father just to stay alive. The positive side to all of this was that this proves that Drake still has fight left in him. If he had truly wanted to die, he wouldn't have made it out of that one-on-one showdown that had taken place in his father's bedroom.
However, it was hard to focus on the light at the end of the tunnel when there were so many downsides. Thank God for Mindy. Josh had no idea how he could've gotten through this without her. She was so strong, and she did everything she could to help keep this family together. Telling Megan had been so hard. They didn't go into details about the severity or the frequency. He and Walter had been beyond shocked when Megan had admitted, while crying, that she'd known about her father hitting Drake. Walter had actually taken the news pretty hard. He couldn't fathom why on earth she hadn't said anything. He didn't blame her, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel like she was partly responsible for what had happened to his step-son. If she would've said something, maybe this could've been prevented. Walter had let up on her after seeing her reaction to learning about the sexual assault. The guilt she felt was clear as day. She swore that her father had never hit her or touched her in that way, but everyone was so rattled by all of this news that Drake had kept secret for so long that it was hard to decipher who was telling the truth anymore.
Josh and Mindy had stayed to comfort Megan while Walter asked to break the news to Audrey on his own. Everyone was crying. Everyone was feeling guilty and angry. Everyone was throwing blame: at each other, at themselves, at Martin, even at Drake. But no one was here. No one had come to see him. No one could face him. In Audrey's defense, she'd been cussing out everyone she needed to in order to get herself and Drake moved into a room together, but they kept claiming that all duo rooms were occupied.
Josh sighed. How on earth was Drake able to fool us all for so long?! Obviously, we just weren't paying enough attention. It didn't make any sense, though. All his parents ever talked (or, more correctly, argued) about was Drake.. Josh used to be jealous of all the attention his brother had received even when he wasn't there. It made him feel guilty for ever hating him.
Drake had been so emotionally destroyed after the abuse that he kept having to get high to forget. This had become a cycle. He moved in with his father knowing what would happen to him if he did, but knowing he'd be okay as long as he could get high afterwards. And even after everything was over, how could anyone expect Drake to get clean now when he felt responsible for two different deaths?
"Mmm."
Oh, God, no, he's waking up.
"Ah! Ah!" Drake groaned as he repositioned his shoulder until he could find it a more comfortable place to rest. When he did, he looked over to where Ricardo always sat, but he found his brother there instead. He smiled. "Josh."
He didn't realize that he'd been on the verge of crying until now because he felt embarrassed about it now that Drake was awake. "Hey." He sniffled.
Even through his smile, the pain he felt was still clear on his face. So was the fact that he was a tad bit high on the painkillers. "I was just dreaming about you," he slurred, the wired jaw distracting Josh from what he was saying. "We were on a magic carpet, and we had to take it through the car wash, but it had a forcefield, so we didn't get wet. Is it time for more meds yet?"
"I don't...think so." Josh figured that a nurse would come in whenever it was time.
"Where's Ricky?" Drake asked, reaching for the remote that had the nurse button on it. "That bastard went to Chick-Fil-A without me, didn't he?" Somehow after pressing it, it slipped out of his hand and landed on the floor with a loud crash.
Josh ignored the question because, now that his brother was awake, he needed answers. "What happened?"
"I dropped the..." Drake tried to lean forwards to estimate how far down the floor was and assess whether or not he could reach. "-fucking remote."
Josh picked it up for him. "That's not what I meant."
The boy's eyes squeezed closed tightly as he leaned back against the pillow. "Oh, shit." When he caught his breath, he lifted his hospital gown and observed his injury.
Josh peeked at the knife wound, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much it had hurt - physically and emotionally. "Geez..."
"This is nothing," Drake said. "The worst part was not being able to move or do anything while he cut off my fingers."
Josh looked at the wrap around his left hand, which was elevated. He had noticed it, but he and Walter had been so distraught over the sudden news that neither had actually asked for a list of Drake's injuries.
"They sewed them back on, but he said I can't play guitar anymore. They said that last time and I was able to. It's just my strum hand anyway. I don't know, though. This wrist is fucked." He held up his right arm.
"I don't understand. How are you talking about all of this like it's whatever to you?"
"I might be a liiiiiittle high." Drake smirked, and at that moment, there was a double knock on the door. He watched as a young brunette nurse walked in. "Oh, great. Is it time for my pain medicine yet?"
"We had this conversation thirty minutes ago. Remember?" She had a cute southern accent that Drake never got tired of hearing. "Didn't I just give you your medicine?"
Drake had no idea. It didn't feel like it.
"I even wrote the times on the board for you." She pointed at the whiteboard that was hanging on the wall. Above the times was her name: Nurse Deanna. "So that you wouldn't keep calling me in here every five minutes."
"But I get so lonely when you're not here," he said in a joking manner.
She shook her head, but couldn't help but grin at his constant flirtatiousness. "Goodnight, Drake."
Josh caught his step-brother eyeing the nurse as she left the room.
"Jesus, she's hot as fuck."
Some things never change.
"You bitch," Drake said as Ricardo dropped his keys onto the counter. "You snuck out while I was sleeping."
The man nodded his head towards him. "How long's be been up?"
"Almost the entire time you were gone." Josh got out of the chair. "I'm gonna head back to my mom's room."
"Aw, you're leaving?" Drake said.
"Yeah. I left my phone. I'm sure they're all wondering where I am. I was just gonna drop by for a few minutes."
It was obvious to Ricardo that Josh felt as though he couldn't get out of there fast enough. In fact, he was already halfway out the door.
"See ya later. Bye."
Drake didn't even have time to return his goodbye before the door closed. Ricardo felt bad as he looked at Drake, but then he remembered that the boy was feeling just fine right now thanks to his medication.
"So did you bring me some chicky nugs or what?"
Ricardo turned away from the television with a smile when a commercial came on, interrupting whatever comedy they had been watching. He looked at Drake, who was gazing out the window. His smile faded. "What's up? You seem stressed."
Drake shrugged. "Nothing."
"No, tell me."
"I just - I owe this guy some money, and if I don't get it to him today..." Drake looked at his lap. "He's already threatened to hurt my family if I don't pay him." He met the man's eyes. "I hate asking because you've done so much for me already, but do you think maybe you could meet up with him, and I swear I will pay you back as soon as I can?"
"How much do you owe him?"
"Five hundred."
Ricardo blew air out of his mouth after hearing that amount, but he did have some money saved up. "Yeah. I'll pay it."
The relief was evident on Drake's face. "I swear I'll give it back."
After getting the address, Ricardo left the hospital room, and for the first time since he'd arrived, Drake was alone. Although he was grateful that his friend was going to help him out, he had no idea what he would do next week or the week after that. Would Molly want to have sex with him like this? Maybe so. She did enjoy role-playing quite a bit. Would he even be cleared for such a physical activity by the doctor? Would he even be out of the hospital by then?
He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind and focus on the fact that, for today, he didn't have to worry.
"I can come up there."
"I don't know if he's really up for visitors right now," Ricardo said to his brother over the phone as he stepped off of the elevator. "He's been through a lot of shit, and he's really embarrassed about it."
"I can't believe this is happening. It all just came out of nowhere."
"I know. If you talk to Stevie, I don't think you should go into detail about anything. Drake probably doesn't want the whole world to know."
"Yeah, of course."
"I haven't even told him that I told his family what happened."
"They haven't come to see him?"
"Josh has, but, you know, Drake was on his meds, so I don't think he remembers that at all."
"Shit."
When Drake's room was in sight, he decided to end his phone call. "I've gotta go, but I'll tell him you wanna come see him."
"Alright, see ya, bruh."
When Ricardo opened the door, he came face-to-face with a doctor.
"Whoops. Excuse me," the man said, then he left the room.
Ricky closed the door behind him. "Who was that?"
"The guy that's gonna do my wrist surgery. He came to schedule it."
"When is it?"
"Sunday," Drake said, then he changed the subject. "How'd it go?"
"Fine. He said he'd give you some time off before your next payment, but your interest is gonna go up."
"Shit, how'd you manage that?"
"I told you. I used to hang around people like him before I went to prison. You just have to know how to talk to them," Ricardo said. "And Rashaad was actually the guy who left without me when the police showed up, ultimately leading to my arrest. He kinda owed me one."
"You know Rashaad?"
"He's killed someone just for looking at him the wrong way. These guys are not people you should be associating with. You need to pay them off and get the hell out of there. He told me that the only reason you're alive still is because Meelah's brother keeps vouching for you. Eventually, his influence over them is gonna run out."
The young man nodded, his heartbeat quickening. "Thanks for going for me. And listen, I really appreciate you staying, but if you need to get back to work-"
"No, I'm taking some time off. I'm using some of my vacation days." He walked over to the window and leaned against the sill. He could see that his friend had a lot on his mind. "What are you thinking about?"
"Have you told my family that I'm here?"
The man sighed. "Yeah. I ran into Megan yesterday."
"How much did you tell them?" Drake didn't meet his eyes.
"I told them everything," he said honestly.
He'd expected it, but it still sucked because now he was going to have to figure out how to go from here while carrying around that baggage everywhere he goes. "I think they hate me. For what I did to Mom."
"They don't hate you."
"Then why aren't they here?"
Ricardo crossed his arms. "They just...they took the news really hard. It's a lot to process."
"They're ashamed of me and they hate me," Drake disagreed. "And now that you've told them everything, they think I'm disgusting and they're pissed that I've lied to them this whole time."
"Shut your fucking mouth, alright?" Ricky scolded. "Your family is the nicest family I have ever met, and they love you. But yeah, they probably are pretty pissed that you never told them, but they don't hate you for it. They just feel guilty. They're probably over there thinking that you hate them. They feel like it's their fault."
"I just want my mom," Drake said. "But I'm too scared to face her."
Ricardo understood his guilt and embarrassment.
"When you were younger and that stuff happened, what would you have done if everyone would've found out?"
The man let go of his breath. "I don't know, to be honest." Nothing good would've come of it. That's for sure.
"What do you do when you feel like the life you've set up for yourself has crashed and burned?"
"You start over."