AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks once again to FrankElza for the amazing reviews and incredible support throughout this story. I really hope you like this chapter! xx

Chapter 26

"I'll check out the back" said Heath, lifting Harley off his hip and handing him to Bianca as they walked into the living-room. "Maybe he just came home" he said, looking worried and heading quickly towards the back door.

"I'll check the bedroom" said Tamara, parking Noah's pram beside Bianca, and heading out into the hallway. She opened the door to their room, expecting it to be empty, but there he was, sitting on their bed.

"Baby?" she said, cocking her head to one side, "Baby? Are you okay?" She was a little angry with him for running off on her like that, but she was also worried. After last night, was it any wonder?!

He looked up at her and gave her a weak little smile.

"Sorry, Tam" he said quietly, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed and got up. "I'll come out now…" he said, sounding tired, "I just needed to get out of there."

He started to move towards the door, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to look at him properly. He seemed to be avoiding her eyes, keeping them fixed on the floor. She put her hand out and lifted his chin to make him look at her. "I'm so proud of you" she said, when their eyes finally met, "Today was such a big hurdle… I can't believe how strong you are… and how brave!"

"Stop!" he said, clamping his eyes shut and shaking his head, "I'm not strong… or brave!" He turned and sat back down on the bed with his head in his hands. "I'm pathetic" he said in a small and broken voice.

It was then that she noticed the strong smell of bleach. She looked at him in horror and wondered what he'd done. He was still wearing his suit so it seemed unlikely that he'd have had a shower and put it back on again. She sat down beside him and reached for his hand, gasping a little when she felt how rough and raw the skin was. She picked it up to look at it. It was bright red, as though it had been burnt, and there were scratches all over the top, like he'd taken a wire brush to it.

"Baby… what… what did you…?"

He lifted his head and turned to look at her. "I'm sorry" he said, wiping at a few stray tears that had welled up in his eyes as he turned away from her. "That journalist… It's all going to be in the papers again… It's never going to end, any of this… I can't… I can't deal right now... It's just too much"

"Can I see?" she asked, cautiously starting to unbutton the cuff of his shirt. He didn't pull away but he didn't look at her either. She undid the buttons and began to roll up the sleeve of his shirt, trying to be as gentle as she could. As the tattoo on his arm became visible she let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. "Baby! What have you done to yourself?!" she cried, gently touching his skin with her finger tips. The smell of bleach was overpowering now.

"It helps" he said, through gritted teeth, but he kept wincing as her fingers made contact with his burnt and rubbed raw flesh.

"Baby, you've burned yourself!" she said, beginning to cry and looking at the red raw skin on her husband's arm. He'd obviously scrubbed long and hard at the tattoo and the skin was a deep red colour, more like raw meat than his normal sallow skin tone. It looked incredibly painful. She could still see the black ink as clear as day though, so he hadn't been successful in scrubbing it away.

"Baby, your poor arm!" she said, peeling the sleeve back further to check the extent of the injury. "Why would you do this to yourself?!" she cried, "Why would you hurt yourself like this?!" She already knew about his self-harming, but somehow, she hadn't imagined anything this bad.

He gave a little shrug, continuing to stare at the wall, refusing to make eye contact with her. He didn't know how to explain it to her.

"Sweetie, talk to me?!" she pleaded.

After a moment's silence, he glanced sideways at her with a guilty expression, before looking away again. "I don't know" he sighed, "It's just… It's like… a release… or something?"

"A release?" she repeated.

"I don't know… I guess, it helps…" he mumbled, "Helps me... to… concentrate" He held his free hand to his head and squeezed his temples. "It just… It helps me make it stop for a while…"

"Make what stop?" she asked, with a note of alarm in her voice.

He just clenched his jaw and shook his head at her. He couldn't say it. He couldn't tell her that he was trying to stop the feel of phantom hands all over his body. That he felt them all the time these days. She'd think he was insane!

"Just… the memories" he shrugged, "I can't stop thinking… My brain is whirring, like all the time… I just want it to stop for a while."

"But you're hurting yourself" she said, still staring at his arm. Part of her was angry with him. How could he do something like this to himself?! How could he not see how messed up this was?! "I want to… but I just… I don't understand…" she said.

"I didn't think you would" he replied, voice flat and sad, "No-one ever does…"

She shook her head and blew out a big breath to calm herself. "We have to get this looked at" she said, "These look like chemical burns… I need to get Nate to take a look."

She got to her feet and headed towards the door. She was pretty sure that Nate would have arrived by now and she could maybe get him to come take a look without anyone else needing to know.

"No!" he said, roughly tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to cover his arm again, and looking at her in a wounded sort of way. It was like what she was suggesting was some sort of betrayal of trust. "It'll be fine, Tam… I don't need Nate!"

"Baby" she said, giving him a stern look, "I think it's going to blister! If you think I'm going to let you do this to yourself and not do anything about it, you can think again!"

She walked back over and gently rolled up his sleeve again, treating him a little bit like she would a small child that was throwing a tantrum. She looked at his arm again, so red and inflamed.

"Now, I'm going to get Nate, and you're going to let him treat you…" she said firmly.

Before he could reply, she'd gone out to the living-room to find Nate, and just left him there staring at the floor. An anger was building in his chest. Of course, he knew that he needed help but it should have been his decision to make, shouldn't it?! Did she even realise that she was treating him like a child?! Why couldn't she just listen to him for once? Why did she always think she knew best?!

"Let me see this arm then…" said Nate, walking in with a concerned look on his face.

He couldn't hide his shock when he saw what Kyle had done. Tamara hadn't gone into details so he hadn't been expecting anything of this scale. She'd simply said that Kyle had burned himself. These were deliberate and extensive chemical burns and abrasions!

He crouched down beside the bed, and tentatively turned Kyle's arm as gently as he could to get a better look at the extent of the damage. Kyle sat staring at the wall in silence, clenching his jaw and wincing in pain, but refused to look at Nate.

"I think I need to get you to hospital" he said, looking up at Kyle with a worried expression. "These are pretty bad burns!"

"Aw, mate?! Shit!" exclaimed Heath, as he stood in the doorway, "What the… what the fuck have you done?!"

Kyle's head shot round to look at him. "Get out!" he growled, glaring at him and yanking his arm away from Nate. He didn't like the looks they were all exchanging, as though he was crazy, and something to be pitied. "Get out!" he shouted again, "All of you! GET OUT!"

"I can't let you hurt yourself like this and just walk away" said Nate, in a slow calm voice. "Now that I've seen you, I have a duty of care… I need to get you to the hospital so we can get this treated properly."

"You should listen to Nate" said Heath, eyeing Kyle's damaged arm with alarm. "You really need that looked at, mate!"

Kyle looked down at the arm in question, and then glared back up at the three worried faces all staring down at him. He felt his blood boil. People had been controlling him his whole life! He'd spent nearly fourteen years, as far as he knew, locked in a tiny damp cell, being raped and brutalised at will. He'd been handed to foster parents, without any say in the matter, and expected to just adjust to things. Danny Braxton had used him for his own selfish gains, and like a total idiot, he'd allowed him to. Even Brax had thought he could tell him what to do and he'd ended up mixed up in all sorts of things because of these 'brothers' of his.

He was sick of it. He'd buried Kyle Braxton today, and with him, all sense of his own identity... The question was, what kind of pathetic loser had 'Kyle' left behind?!

"It's fine" he argued, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down so they couldn't see it anymore. His voice was tight and full of anger. "I know how to look after it myself… I've done it before… I don't need your help."

"Not this time" said Nate, "This is serious."

"You have to go to the hospital" insisted Tamara.

"You can't just ignore it" added Heath.

"I'm not going" he said, getting to his feet.

Suddenly they were all talking at once and hands were grabbing at his arms and pulling him in all directions.

"You have to go!"

He tugged at the hands on his upper arms, as he started to feel his chest tighten.

"We won't let you do this!"

He shoved the hands away, his heart was thumping loudly in his ears.

"Mate, I'll drag you there myself, if I have to!"

Why did they have to keep touching him?! Couldn't they see that they were freaking him out?!

"Stop it!" he shouted, violently shoving Tamara away from him, and twisting out of Heath's hold to cower in a corner of the room. He put his hands up to cover his ears and closed his eyes tight. "Just stop it!" he pleaded, "Stop telling me what to do! Stop talking at me! …Just… Just shut up for a minute!"

They all stood and stared at him in silence while he visibly fought to calm himself. His chest was heaving in and out, and his hands were clamped tight over his ears. Tamara glanced at Heath and furrowed her brow. Neither of them knew what to do. Tamara wondered if they needed to call his counsellor and ask him to make a house call, or maybe even call an ambulance?

"Just give him a minute" said Nate, taking a seat on the bed and nodding for Tamara to do the same.

After a while, when he seemed to be calming down, Nate got up and walked slowly towards him. "Come on, mate" he said softly, as he touched him gently on the shoulder, "We need to go to the hospital… You know that."

Kyle opened his eyes and took his hands away from his ears. "Fine" he said, in a cold and stiff sort of voice, "Let's go to hospital then… since you obviously won't listen to me."

Tamara got up and picked up her bag.

"Not you!" he said, shaking his head at her, "Just me, and Nate".

"But?" Tamara began to say, "But… I…?"

"You stay here!" he snarled at her, before charging out past her, and grabbing his keys off the table by the door. The guests simply saw a grey blur, as Kyle ran out past them in his suit. The door slammed shut.

Tamara and Heath exchanged worried glances, unsure of what to do. Nate patted Tamara on the shoulder, giving each of them a sympathetic look. "I'll look after him…" he promised, "I think he just needs a bit of space… okay?"

Nate followed Kyle out to the car and got in the passenger side, as Kyle was already in the driving seat, and aggressively revving the engine.

"They're just worried about you" he said to Kyle, as they pulled out of the driveway at high speed. He couldn't help gripping onto the door handle and braking instinctively with his feet as they gathered speed. "We're all worried about you" he repeated, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at him.

Kyle simply snorted at him, as he wrenched the car round corners. "You shouldn't" he said, picking up speed in a way that seemed angry and reckless, "I'm not worth caring about."

ii.

Kyle sat on the bed in the treatment room waiting for the doctor to come back. They'd irrigated the wound for about half an hour to neutralise the bleach and then applied ointments but they still had to bandage it. He'd heard the hushed conversation between Nate and the doctor treating him, so he knew that they weren't going to let him leave until he'd had a psych consultation. He didn't like it, but he understood why. He knew how bad the thing looked. It was dark red and threatening to blister. No wonder they were so worried about him.

He shook his head at himself. He'd really thought that this stuff was behind him. He hadn't scrubbed himself with bleach like that for years and years! He'd even stopped himself the other evening, as hard as that was, and he'd gone as far as telling Tamara so she'd know to keep an eye on him. He'd been trying to fight it. He'd been trying so hard! But he'd broken today, and he'd let everyone down. He'd seen the disgust on Tamara and Heath's faces as clear as day. He felt so ashamed. What must they think of him?! And what were the Summers going to say when they found out?! They'd be so disappointed in him!

His mind began to drift back to a night when he was sixteen years old. The night that Jenny and David found out just how messed up he was…

Kyle walked up the driveway with his schoolbag slung over one shoulder. He was staring at the ground as he walked, and dragging his feet. He knew something was wrong. He hadn't been feeling well all day. He was hot one minute, and freezing the next, and he'd nearly thrown up when he'd tried to eat his sandwich earlier. Just the smell of other people's lunches had turned his stomach. His head was pounding.

He put his key in the lock and opened the door. He intended to go straight to the bathroom and have another shower. He felt dirty. He'd been restless all day because he hadn't had time to have a shower this morning and just the thought of how smelly his skin must be had had him squirming and scratching. He'd avoided PE of course. He never did PE… because screw them! He couldn't shower in front of all those other kids! He wasn't doing that. Not ever!

He started to walk towards his room when he heard Jenny and David talking in the kitchen. They weren't supposed to be home yet. He glanced towards the living-room window and saw their cars in the drive. He hadn't even noticed! He tiptoed to the kitchen door to listen.

"How do we ask him about this?" he heard Jenny say, she sounded worried, "I mean, you know how defensive he is… Would he even tell us?"

"We have to try" answered David, "We can't let someone hurt him… I mean… God, what if…?"

"Don't!" gasped Jenny, "I don't even want to think about that! …Maybe there's an innocent explanation?"

"There's blood" said David, "I don't see any other way that it got there…"

"You really think someone's hurting him?" Kyle heard her ask, a thickness to her voice like she was fighting not to cry.

"God, I don't want it to be true" sighed David, "But we need him to talk to us… and if he won't we're gonna have to take him to the hospital and get him checked out." Kyle heard the man give a tired sigh. "I just… How can this have happened, under our watch?! We're supposed to be protecting him!"

Kyle's heart was racing as he listened to them. He knew what they were talking about! Jenny must have found the clothes he'd hidden under the bed! He cursed himself for being so lazy. Normally, he put them in the wash when he was sure they'd gone to bed, but he'd been too tired last night. She'd seen! He'd seen! They knew what he'd been doing!

He needed to get out! He needed to find somewhere to hide! He couldn't face them. He couldn't talk to them… not about this! He turned to leave but the sudden movement made his head spin and he knocked into a table. A lamp fell off and smashed on the floor. He froze. Shaking!

"Kyle?!" he heard Jenny call out, "Is that you?!" There were scuffling sounds and the noise of chairs scraping back on the kitchen floor. They were coming.

'They're gonna kill me!' he thought to himself, heart hammering violently and legs shaking as he heard their approach. He dropped to his knees and frantically started picking up the pieces. Maybe he could hide it?! When the door to the kitchen opened, he flinched, freezing to the spot and raising his hands to shield his head. "I…I'm s-sorry!" he stammered, with big scared eyes, "I d-didn't m-mean to! I'm sorry!"

"Sweetie" soothed Jenny, as she dropped down beside him, "We're not angry with you… We would never hurt you."

He couldn't stop shaking. He knew it was Jenny, but somehow Jessica's face was in his mind, glowering over him, and baring her teeth like an angry wolf. He knew Jenny wasn't going to hit him, but his whole body was tensing in anticipation.

"Kyle?" she reasoned with him, "It's just Jenny… Look at me… look at me, sweetie… Look where you are… You're safe here with us… With me and David" He could hear the sadness in her voice. "Look at me, Kyle, please?"

He was trying. He glanced up quickly, glassy eyes flicking up to meet hers, just for a moment, before looking back at the floor. "I didn't mean to b-break it" he said quietly, "I d-didn't mean to."

Flashes of memories were flooding through his head. He'd broken a lamp once back in the Hames house. Jessica had dragged him to the bathroom and nearly drowned him.

"I'm s-sorry!" he sobbed.

"I know that, honey" she sighed, "We don't care about the lamp… We care about you… You're what's important, not some silly lamp!"

He shook his head. He knew that wasn't true. He was worthless. He didn't understand how these people couldn't see that! "I'm not" he said.

"You're not what?" asked David, sitting on his hunkers behind Jenny.

"Im-important" he stammered, "I'm n-not 'important'… I'm noth-nothing!"

"Oh God, sweetie" tutted Jenny, "You are VERY important! You hear me! You are the MOST important thing in the world to me and David… Don't you understand that?! We love you!"

He hung his head even more and started to cry. His shoulders hunched up and down as the tears flowed down his face. How could they love him? How could they love something so disgusting and dirty? Didn't they know what he was?! How repulsive he was?!

He heard Jenny make a little whimper, and then to his horror, she put her arms around him. How could she do that?! He hadn't showered today! Didn't she see?! He was dirty. She couldn't hug him now!

"No!" he gasped, pulling away from her and scrambling to his feet, "No! You can't hug me! Not now… not before I…"

"Not before what?" asked Jenny, as she got to her feet. She looked worried. He knew why. His reaction must have been a surprise because he didn't normally mind her hugging him anymore. Sometimes he even initiated hugs himself. But something else was clearly bothering her. She was actually sniffing the air around him. He smelt of bathroom bleach.

"I need a shower" he said, trying to push past them towards his room, "I need… I need a shower…" His voice was high pitched, verging on hysterical.

"No, wait, Kyle?" called Jenny, as she caught hold of his arm to stop him. She looked shocked when he hissed in pain. "W-what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing" he answered, subconsciously tugging at his sleeves, "I just…"

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, "Have you hurt your arm?"

"No… it's fine" he replied, "I just need a shower…" Why couldn't they just let him go?! He tried to leave but David caught hold of his wrist and stopped him.

"Let me go!" he whined, as he began to shake and cry again. His voice was quiet and choked. "Please, David, let me go?!"

He knew it was David, but Simon's face kept flashing through his mind. He never would have spoken to Simon that way. He never would have spoken to Simon at all. Simon would have broken his wrist for talking back to him. Snapped it like a twig. He knew that from experience. He stared down at David's hand on his wrist and imagined him twisting it violently.

"Let me see your arm" coaxed David.

"No!" gasped Kyle, "I can't!"

"Please, Kyle" pleaded David, "Please let me see?"

"Please, David?!" sobbed Kyle, as he tried to free his wrist, "Please don't make me?! I'll be good… I just… I'm dirty…"

"No, Kyle… you're not" sighed David.

Kyle looked at him for a moment and then hung his head. All the fight had gone out of him. He felt dizzy and hot.

David shook his head in a sad sort of way and began to pull Kyle's sleeve up. He gasped loudly when he saw the blistered red skin underneath and noticed the stench of bleach. His eyes drifted to the neckline of Kyle's top; there was a similar reddening of the skin there. David didn't say anything, he just looked at him with the saddest possible expression. His eyes were so kind, so full of love and concern. Kyle still wasn't used to having someone look at him like that. He didn't think he deserved it. He could see Jenny standing behind David. She looked distraught. He felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry" Kyle mumbled quietly, "I'll understand if you don't want me now."

"God, Kyle" groaned David, as he reached out and took his face in both hands, forcing him to look at him, "We want you… Nothing you could ever do would make us not want you. I wish you could understand that." He took him tentatively by the shoulder and led him over to the couch to sit down.

"It… it's not as bad as it looks" said Kyle. as he watched David turn his arm back and forth to look at it.

"Mmm" sighed David, "It looks like it hurts?"

Kyle shook his head. It did hurt, he was lying, but he didn't want them worrying. He could see Jenny staring with a furrowed brow. Too late!

"Kyle" said David, with a pained expression, "I know you're not gonna like me asking this… but I'm going to need you to take your shirt off…"

Kyle's eyes went wide and he started to breathe a lot faster. He knew why David was asking, and that it was a completely innocent request, but too many men had asked him to get undressed over the years and just the thought of taking his shirt off was setting off flashbacks. He gripped the cushion of the couch with his free hand. He couldn't hear David anymore! His mind was filled with auditory memories of past trauma. He could hear the sounds those men made! He could hear them grunting in his ears. Their laboured panting, hot and heavy on his back. Their disgusting words of encouragement… He felt like his world was dissolving…

A voice suddenly broke through the horror in his head.

"Kyle?!" it was shouting, as a hand shook his shoulder, "Kyle?! Please, look at me! Look at me… Easy, come on, just breathe and look at me… It's David… It's just me…"

Kyle forced himself to look at David's face but something was wrong. He couldn't bring his eyes into focus. Everything was fuzzy and his head was spinning. He felt like his skin was on fire. Why couldn't he breathe properly?!

"Kyle?!" called Jenny's voice, and he felt a cool hand on his forehead. "Oh God, David!" he heard her gasp, "He's burning up! Feel his head!"

Her cool hand was replaced by David's warmer one, and then suddenly he was being lifted bridal style and carried outside.

"W-where are we going?" he managed to say, when he felt the motion of the car, "W-what's happening?!" He could see the passing streetlamps and realised he was lying down in the back seat. Had he been drifting in and out of consciousness?!

"The hospital" said Jenny, "Baby, we're just taking you to the hospital, you're sick…You're very sick, honey…"

"Mr Braxton?" said a voice, that shook him from his thoughts. The psychiatrist had finally come to see him.

"I don't use that name anymore" he answered, with a gritted jaw, "I've told your colleagues that… repeatedly."

iii.

"MAN ATTENDS OWN FUNERAL" read the headline.

Irene held up the tabloid newspaper in disgust, as she sat at the breakfast table with Chris. "That poor young fella!" she exclaimed, tutting loudly and holding it for Chris to look at. "That boy's whole world is falling down round his ears and they're busy dancing on the rubble!"

Chris took the paper out of Irene's hands to look at it properly. It had a huge photo of a very distressed looking Kyle on the front page, with two smaller ones of the coffin, and of the Hames' being taken into custody, handcuffed and looking startled. The article described how Kyle had been living under the false belief that he was 'Kyle Bennett/Braxton' when in reality there was a murdered child by that name buried on the Hames' property. It outlined how the identity of this imposter, known to locals as Kyle Braxton, was still unknown, and postulated that he might in fact be the offspring of the Hames couple themselves.

Chris finished reading and glanced up at Irene in horror. "You don't think he is, do you?! …I mean, he couldn't be theirs, could he?!"

"I guess he could!" said Irene, grimacing at him and then taking a sip from the coffee cup she cradled in both hands. "I hope for his sake that he's not though!" She didn't like to think that he was the child of such cruel and evil people.

"This whole thing just seems to be getting worse and worse!" said Chris, picking up his breakfast things and taking them over to the kitchen counter. "What was it like?" he asked, leaning his back against the counter to look back across the room at her.

"What? The funeral?" she asked, shrugging a little. "It was sad, like any funeral, I suppose…"

"Yeah but… I mean…" he said, screwing up his face, "It must be so weird… sort of burying 'yourself'? …I mean… I can't imagine finding out that I'm not 'me'… and then having to bury… 'me'"

"Well… yeah… That would be weird!" she said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes a little. "You do know that he didn't actually bury himself, don't you, Chris? ...I mean… It was just a little kid with the same name as him."

"Yeah, course!" said Chris, blushing up a little. If he was honest, he had sort of thought of it as Kyle burying himself. As though he was holding a funeral for himself, like he and the dead boy were somehow the same person… "It must have been hard for him though? I mean… he still doesn't know what his real name is, does he?"

"No, he doesn't" said Irene, staring down at the picture of Kyle on the front of the paper. She felt terribly sad for him, especially having seen how upset he was yesterday, and Bianca had certainly seemed quite affected by the whole thing. "That poor boy has been to hell and back by the sounds of things, and having these journos turning up taking pictures isn't making things any easier! Honestly, Chris, they're like vultures! They have no shame!"

iv.

Andy walked up the wooden path from the beach, drying off his hair with his towel and tugging at the T-shirt that he'd just thrown on over wet skin. It was sticking to him a little and making him uncomfortable. He looked up and spotted Josh standing by the railings, and shook his head at himself. He'd forgotten for a moment and raised his hand to wave. Josh's blindness still made him a little sad sometimes.

He was meant to be meeting him for breakfast but he'd lost track of time and he was at least twenty minutes late at this stage. He ran the rest of the way and reached him a moment later.

"Hey mate" he said, panting a little and putting his hand on his shoulder to let him know that he was there. "Sorry I'm a bit late."

"You're always late" said Josh, turning around to face him. "Why change the habit of a lifetime, eh?" he said, with a sarcastic smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" he said, laughing a little and holding out his arm to let him link on him. He deliberately bumped him a little with his shoulder to let him know that he'd turned to stand beside him. It was easier for Andy to lead him than to find his own way there with the cane. Josh took his arm and they headed towards the diner. "How was Kyle… y'know… after?" asked Andy.

"I dunno…" said Josh, furrowing his brow a little, "I don't think he's back from the hospital yet… Evie said she'd call when he got home." He couldn't help being worried about him. Disappearing like that after the funeral had put everyone on edge, but he was one of the few people who knew where he'd gone. He wondered if the doctors would let him out today. "He's just having a really tough time" he said.

"Yeah, I can't imagine…" said Andy, but he trailed off as something distracted him. "Uhhhh…." he started to say, trying to pick up his train of thought but he was clearly watching something in the distance.

"Andy?" said Josh, picking up that something wasn't right.

Andy was too busy watching Phoebe. She was talking to a man outside the diner, down the side by the bins, and in a ridiculously obvious way, she had taken an envelope from him and stuffed it in her bag. It couldn't have looked more like a poorly executed drug deal had they tried. She'd even looked all around her to make sure that no-one was looking. It was almost cartoonish!

"Um…" said Andy, stopping them in their tracks. "I've just seen Phoebe with that Journo guy from yesterday" he said, "I think he just gave her a wad of cash?!"