*IMPORTANT*: Alright, guys. I've been getting a lot of unhappy reviews from people about "Blind Ones". I know that that chapter was very upsetting, and even though I planned it to be that way, I did not expect it to go over the way it did. I honestly feel bad for hurting my readers' interests, and I've decided to fix it. I feel like I should apologize to everyone who did not like that chapter, as it was unexpected and a little random. Please forgive me - I promise I won't do something that dramatic again without dropping hints before. I sincerely hope that this chapter makes everything better. Again, I'm sorry. You have no idea how worthless I felt whenever I'd read a review displayed unhappiness. I want to make everyone happy with my stories, not upset. I honestly and truly mean that. Just please don't give up on me and my story yet. It's you all that keep me writing. I am grateful for your feedback and hope you enjoy this from now on.

Simon stirred in his bed late one night. He was tired, but felt sleepless. Stormy was curled up near his face like usual, but there was something missing beside him. He groggily reached across the bed to touch Roger. His hand fell onto an empty pillow. Simon opened his eyes slightly, and let out a sad sigh. Stormy was awakened by this, and mewed softly. Tears flooded the small boy's eyes. Images of Roger's bruises and cuts, the drunken man, the horrible beating at the concert, came rushing through his mind. Simon sat up and began to shake. It had been a few weeks since Roger had left them; the pain added every day. Simon clutched the soft blanket around himself to simulate a hug. He just wanted his brother back. He wanted his Roger.

The bedside clock read 1:19 am. The boy sat still for a long time, thinking about the way things were. Suddenly, downstairs, he heard quite the clamor. His parents were speaking quickly to each other. The front door was opening. There were shouts and cooing. All at once. Roger picked Stormy up and crept out of bed. He silently slid down the hallway to peek over the top of the stairs. Sure enough, his parents were scurrying about, wearing only their pajamas - they hadn't even bothered with robes. Simon descended the first step. Through the slats of the railings, he could see his mother sitting on the sofa, rocking back and forth. His father was at the telephone, quickly spinning the rotary. Suddenly, Simon's heart jumped. Maybe his mummy was having the baby. Filled with excitement and nervousness, he ran down the rest of the stairs to find out just what was happening.

Well, the baby wasn't being born, but he saw something that made him just as happy. Mrs. Louis was sitting on the couch, crying, rocking a bundle in her arms. Inside the bundle was a little boy. Little Roger. Simon ran to his mother and grinned. "Roger!" he cried out. It was so wonderful to see his former brother on the couch right where he belonged. Where he would always belong. Mrs. Louis wiped the tears from her face. "Simon," she whispered. "Something bad has happened. And Roger's going to need us very much, alright? We need to be very kind to him again." Simon nodded happily. He didn't need reminding. He touched Roger's cheek - the bruised cheek - and smiled. Immediately his face dropped. His mother said that something bad had happened. Roger didn't look frightened or sad. He just looked like Roger. So why all the fuss?

Outside, red and blue lights began flashing through the windows. A siren wailed far off in the distance. Simon looked back at his father, who was pacing by the front door. "Mummy," he whispered fearfully. "Is everything alright?" There was a knock at the door before his question could be answered. Mr. Louis opened it without hesitation, speaking quickly to the man that was standing out there.

A police officer stepped inside.

Simon was beyond confused. He looked back and forth between his parents, the officer, and Roger. There were no hints anywhere. "Is this the boy?" the policeman asked, pointing to Roger. Mrs. Louis nodded. She sat Roger up. "Baby," she murmured. "Tell the nice officer what happened. Be honest, and say every single detail. Everything you saw." The policeman knelt in front of the pair. Roger still expressed no emotion. He reached for Simon's hand unexpectedly. The small boy took it, feeling a bit shaky inside. He prayed not to have a seizure. Now did not seem like a proper time.

Roger took a deep breath and looked at the floor. "Daddy," he whispered. This was strange; the other boy knew that Roger always called the drunkard 'Father'. Never 'Daddy' - that was too affectionate. The policeman nodded patiently. "It's alright to tell me everything. I'm here to help you. That's what we're here for." he encouraged gently. Simon noticed that there were now several officers beginning to enter the house. He suddenly became scared. What on earth was going on? Again, Roger sighed. "I came home from school. He had been drinking. Bad. So he beat me. But that's all normal stuff. Went upstairs to be by myself. No dinner for me. I was bad at school. I got a note home from the geometry teacher. Daddy found it. Beat me again. No dinner. But then Daddy came up and found me…and he blamed me for stealing his stash of money so he was mad and he yelled at me and called me worthless and told me I should die so I cried and I sat there because I didn't know what to do…so he went back downstairs to drink more and then later on I heard a choking sound…hours later, that is…and I peeked downstairs and I saw a man strangling Daddy and yelling at him but I was too scared to scream until Daddy fell to the floor and the man started walking around the house so I climbed out the window and ran here I just ran."

Roger took big heavy breaths after his continuously run-on sentence. Simon put a hand to his mouth. Roger had watched his father get murdered. He wondered why he wasn't more shaken. The officer nodded solemnly. "My boy, I have some things to tell you, alright? But I want to be certain that you're mentally prepared for it all before I do. Answer me some questions. Be honest: did you watch your daddy die?"
"Yes, sir."
"Were you scared of your daddy?"
"Very much, sir."
"Were you scared of the man that was strangling him?"
"…Not so much, sir."
"Did you recognize the man at all?"
"No, sir."
"Had you ever been aware of a large sum of money that your father supposedly blamed you for stealing?"
"Never, sir."
"Are you frightened as of right now?"
"No, sir."

"You seem alright. Here's what I want to tell you. And do feel free to stop me if you need a moment. Your father was involved in heavy drinking, as you already know. But often times at the bar he attended, he'd gamble. You know, on card games and horse races and things like that. Well, he couldn't ever pay back all the money he gambled, so he wrote a lot of I-owe-you's. The man you saw tonight…he was owed a very large sum of money from your father, and apparently he'd been waiting for it for a long time. He went to your house to obtain that money, and when your father started arguing with him…the intruder strangled him. He then started walking around, as you said, to try to find any money he could. But nothing was discovered. We caught the man, and he's in questioning now. We asked if he planned to hurt you in any way, and he answered that he didn't even know your father had a son. He wasn't going to hurt you, Roger. The lie detector test even proved that. And he said that even if he discovered you, he wouldn't have even touched you. He said that it wasn't your fault. And it wasn't, Roger. It honestly wasn't your fault. None of this was. So don't feel like it was at all. The man just got revenge. I'm sorry to tell you this, but your father is dead."

Roger didn't express anything. He just kept clinging to Simon's hand, snuggled close to Mrs. Louis. Mr. Louis was looking on with the other officers. The dark-haired boy gravely nodded once, then lowered his eyes slowly. The officer took his other hand. "Does that all make sense to you?" he asked gently. Again, a nod. "Daddy was a very bad man…" the small voice whispered. Simon squeezed his eyes closed at Roger's summary of the events. The officer solemnly and stood up. Mr. Louis cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, but may I ask where the boy will be transferred to now that he has no immediate family?"

"He'll be staying wherever anyone decides to put him. If no one steps up to care for him, then he'll go to a boys' home where he'll wait for adoption there." replied the officer.

"No need for that, sir. We'll take him in. We'll adopt him. Anything just to keep him. Please, let us have him forever."

It was more of a plea now than a suggestion. The policemen all nodded. "That won't be a problem, sir." one said. The others gave a smile. Mrs. Louis went back to kissing Roger and rocking him, reminding him that everything was going to be alright. Simon felt tears began to slip down his cheeks as he thought about the horror of the scene which Roger witnessed. But not the boy. He just numbly allowed himself to be hugged and kissed and snuggled.

X x X

The next day at school, Jack found out about the incident. Roger was absent. At choir practice, Jack reported to the boys what had happened, and asked them to all be even nicer to the little member. Everyone was silent. "There's nothing to worry about." Jack assured them. He wasn't standing in front of them like usual. They were all sitting in a circle on the floor, him included. "He isn't in any danger. There isn't anymore harm. In fact, he's going to live with Simon's family again, isn't that right Simon? So no more beatings. He'll heal. Everything will be fine." Still, the choir was eerily silent. No one made eye contact. Harold picked at the carpet. "Maybe this will set him over the edge." he murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that maybe he'll get really upset about all these changes that he's being forced through, and just go crazy."

"Crackers," Bill agreed.

"Batty," Maurice added.

"'Round the bend," mumbled Robert.

"He doesn't handle change well," Simon said somberly.

"Boys, boys. Don't worry. It'll be alright. He knows how excruciatingly horrible his father was. He understands that things will be better now. Give him a little credit. After all, he's not a savage. He's a little English boy, just like us. He wouldn't do anything extreme. Ever." Jack finalized. One by one, each choirboy took to agreement. A chilling yet sad experience, they formed a pact to help one of their own heal from everything that had happened to him.

X x X

Roger was brought back to his home that day to get all of his personal items out of the house so the bank could foreclose on it. There were detectives and police officers downstairs, still gathering evidence and anything they needed from the scene of the crime. Roger was alone in his room, looking at everything one last time: the bed where he and his wonderful brother used to sleep together; the nightstand with a chip in the side from the time his father threw it across the room; the cracked mirror from when his father smashed Roger's favorite stuffed animal doll against it.

He decided he was glad to leave it all behind.

Roger gathered up his scarce toys and a few articles of William's clothing and put it all in the cardboard box the police had given him. He took everything out of the desk and piled it in - a lot of William's journals and articles of writing were in there. He had to save them. Roger found a book of matches in the back of the drawer (from what, he had absolutely no idea) and held them for a moment. He thought. He rose, heading over to the closet.

Roger climbed up the racks and blindly shoved some worthless stuff off of the hatbox he'd hidden up there. It was hidden well. He batted at the fat cylinder until it fell off the top shelf, climbing back down to retrieve it. He sat on the ground. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he then opened the box and looked upon huge the multiple stacks of money he'd stolen. Money he'd stolen from his father. The gambling money. Roger took out the stacks carefully, compiling them into one heap, and withdrew the book of matches.

With shaking fingers, he struck the match and dropped it onto the worthless paper.

Shaking and shuddering, he watched it burn. For the first time since he was removed from the Louis' home, he showed clear deep emotion. He cried. Not just a few tears, but big, heavy, silent ones. His body was racked with shudders as he remembered the pain, the fear, the horror that man had made him feel. He'd beaten him. Starved him. Scarred him. Killed his brother. Tortured him. Took away any happiness he had. Roger didn't regret lying to him. He didn't regret lying to the police. He was glad he'd taken the money and hidden it from the beast that didn't deserve to even be breathing air like a normal person. The flames died down, leaving only ash - the only remains of greed that his father had so openly displayed. Roger swept them all into his hands. He quietly stepped over to the window and leaned out. He opened his cupped hands and watched as the breeze scattered all of the filthiness far from him. The wind swelled up, making it all disappear. Roger smiled a wicked grin. There, you beast, he thought. You finally got what you deserved.