cutepanda12323: Yes, Ryan is a pretty rotten kid. Good thing Hawkeye's the principal. He'd have to be insane to disobey her if you ask me. I am so glad Ed punched him, too. It's something I've been planning on having Ed punch Ryan in the face since Ryan was introduced back in, like, chapter 3 so it was pretty satisfying to write. Hopefully family therapy is going to be helpful to the family in the long run, but yeah it was weird. Thanks for the review!

KieraElieson: I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far! All your reviews have been so nice and I appreciate them so much! You're awesome and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Hey, guys! We're almost in February which is crazy. I kinda wanted to put this chapter up on February 3 as that is the day I picked as Ed's birthday, but I managed to write and edit this before then. Oh well, lol. Happy early birthday to Eddo! I don't know when I'll post again, but it'll probably be a couple weeks. That said, this chapter does deal with child abuse as Ed tells more of his story. Thanks to everyone who's reading and I'll see you all next time!


It blows my mind that every freaking week Wednesday still manages sneak up on me. It's like that kid on Halloween who's, like, thirteen, and hides behind a wall to scare little kids. He always hides behind the same wall, too, so all the neighborhood kids should remember he's there, but they never do. He scares them every year the same way. That's Wednesday for me. I mean, I know it's coming. Wednesday is a constant in everybody's life 'cause it's a fucking day of the week. So, of course I know it's coming. But every Wednesday morning I wake up, surprised and upset that it's already Wednesday. This Wednesday is really gonna suck, too. Last week, I talked about the basement and it sucked so bad. I hate the basement. It's one of the worst things that's ever happened to me. I hate talking about it. This week, I get to talk about the fence. In my head, there are three things she did to me that I think are the absolute worst. The chain, the basement, and the fence. Those are the three things that will probably keep me up at night for the rest of my life. Those are the things that get me all worked up, even almost three years later. Those are the things I wish I could just wipe away from my memory.

I'm sitting at my desk in math class, staring at the clock. I'm trying to figure out my group plan post-fence. After the fence happened, nothing new really happened. She mostly stuck with the chain, beating us, playing house, the basement, starving us, and the cleaning game. It's not like she really came up with anything new after that. So, I guess after I talk about the fence, there'll only be two-ish more weeks of my story left. I'll jump to three years after the fence and talk about Al's breakdown at Winry's house that got her arrested then talk a little about living in the foster homes. I won't be able to go into a ton of details, but that'll be the end of my story. What'll group be like when I'm not telling my story? Will I finally be able to talk to the group about what's going on now? I don't know. I really don't. I watch the clock, anxiety rising up on me. I don't wanna talk about the fence today. I've been dreaming about it a lot lately. In my dreams, the fence goes all the way up the sky. Sometimes, I'll climb and climb and never get to the top. Other times, I'll get Al over the jagged edge at the top, only for him to fall off. Sometimes, I just dream about what actually happened. And even worse is when she catches me and drags me off the fence. I hate the fence. I really, really hate the fence. The fence took my leg away from me. Well, sort of. It was mostly her that did that.

The rest of the school day goes by and I can barely remember any of it. I kinda didn't pay attention 'cause I've been thinking of the fence all day. I walk to my locker, Al already there. He smiles at me and I smile back. I'm really proud of Al. He didn't want to go to school. He even cried all morning 'cause he didn't think he could handle it. His anxiety was feeding him all the worst-case scenarios for going to school today. He was worried about literally everything. But Dada and I gently talked him down and he slowly started to calm down. After a complete mental break down, he felt like he could try going to school today. He made it through the day and I'm super proud of him. I tell him with my eyes that he did a good job as I mess with stuff in my locker. Al grins happily and we start to walk outside. I've been really observant today and I didn't hear anyone talking shit on Al or spreading his secrets around. I guess that means Ms. Hawkeye scared Ryan-Douche-Canoe-Vaus to stay quiet. Ms. Hawkeye can be pretty scary sometimes. We walk outside and Dad's car is already waiting for us. We hurry and get in, Dada on his phone. My brow furrows and Dada says,

"No, it's fine. I think I can do that. Well, Ed's taking the permit test, but we might be doing that before Saturday. I'll let you know. Okay. Okay. I look forward to it. Alright, good bye."

"What was that?" I ask.

"Oh, Lucy asked me out," Dad replies. "We're going to an exhibition in Champaign-Urbana on Saturday night. Do you boys want to spend the evening with Granny?" I shrug.

"Sure, but I can still take the permit test, right?" I ask.

"Yes, honey, of course," Dad says. "We can actually take the test tomorrow afternoon if you want. We don't have to wait until Friday or Saturday to take the test."

"If Ed passes, will he drive us home?" Al asks.

"Um, no," Dada laughs. "He legally can't drive with you in the car. We might stop in a parking lot, though, for practice when he passes. I'm okay with you being in the car, Al, if we're just in a parking lot."

"So, Brother can't drive if I'm with him?" Al asks.

"That's right," Dada replies. "When he gets his license, he can drive with you but not while he has his permit. Ed's only allowed to drive with me."

"Ling said that his dad was mean to him when he taught him how to drive," I say.

"I won't be mean to you, Edward," Dada assures me. "No one is good at something the first time they try. We won't go on to the road until you tell me you're ready."

"Um, well, I wanna take the test tomorrow, then," I decide. "It'll be fun." Dad grins.

"Sounds like a plan, Ed," Dada says. "We'll get something nice to eat after and take Ed to a parking lot so he can drive."

"Heck yeah!" I cry happily. "I'll have my license before junior year!"

"I think you will," Dad agrees. "You only need to have your permit for about six months or so before you can take the test to get your license. You'll be driving to school next year." Dada sniffles and shakes his head. "Oh, you boys are growing up too fast."

"Oh, so if I get my permit, does that mean I get a phone this weekend?" I ask.

"My goodness, it does," Dada says, like he's realized it for the first time. "Have you thought about what you want?"

"I want an iPhone," I tell him. "The really big one."

"Ah, the plus model?" Dad muses. "Well, okay. Will it even fit in your pockets?" I shrug.

"Who cares?" I ask. "The super iPhone is super cool." We pull into Dr. Hughes' office parking lot and Dada parks.

"Do you want me to stay?" Dada asks.

"I'm talking about the fence, Dada," I say quietly. "You know how this went down. I told you the truth after she got arrested."

"Yes, but I know how hard this will be for you," Dada replies. "The fence cost you your leg and that's a touchy subject for you."

"It's all touchy for me, Dad," I argue weakly. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to. There's nothing new I'm gonna say that you haven't heard."

"That's not the only reason for me to stay," Dad tells me. "Sharing those things with me is important but I can sit in just to support you." I sigh softly, bending over in my seat.

"It makes you sad," Al says quietly from the back seat. "I don't think Ed likes seeing you sad." Dad sighs and shakes his head.

"It should make me sad, Al," Dad replies. "Hearing what you boys went through because of my own negligence should make me upset. I could have ended it all if I had just been there for you but I wasn't and you suffered."

"Yeah, but you didn't mean for any of that to happen," Al argues.

"Honey, it doesn't matter," Dad says. "Intent doesn't matter anymore. Intention doesn't spare you from what happened as a result of my carelessness, Al. Nothing does." Al's chin quivers but he doesn't say anything.

"You can come in if you want," I tell Dada softly. "But you don't have to. That's all I was trying to say." Dad smiles weakly.

"You are such a sweet boy," Dada praises softly. "If you think you can handle it on your own, I won't stay. But if you want me to, I will."

"I can handle this one, Dada," I reply. "But I won't bark at you if you stay." I open the door and get out, Al following me.

"Then I'll see you after group, okay?" Dada says. "I'm proud of you, Edward." I smile, my blood getting all sugary and sweet. I nod and wave, Dada rolling up his window and pulling out of the parking lot. I take Al's hand and we walk into the building together.

Like every week, there's the circle of chairs and a snack table pushed up against the far wall. Me and Al sit down where we always do, Dr. Hughes talking with some of the other kids. That Lindsay girl with the dead brother waves weakly at us and I wave back. She grins and sits down and I scan the room. I'm looking for Nicole and Hannah. I'm still super pissed at them for what happened last week. I mean, I'm less pissed at Hannah since she apologized, but I'm still pretty pissed at Nicole. Dr. Hughes stops talking and walks over to us. He sits down next to me and asks,

"Looking for someone?"

"Not really," I mumble, looking away.

"How did family therapy go?" Dr. Hughes questions.

"It was weird," Al replies. "But I liked it. We made goals and when we see Dr. Bergmann in two weeks, we'll tell her if we could keep them or not."

"Sounds like Sophie," Dr. Hughes chuckles. "Well, I'm glad you liked it. I'm sure it'll feel less weird a few sessions in."

"I don't know what to say to her," I blurt. "Dada's there. What do I say?"

"Ed, you can say whatever you're comfortable saying," Dr. Hughes tells me. "That's the whole point. You can talk about the abuse, your feelings, or anything that pops into your head just like you do with me."

"She mentioned she wanted to focus on feelings of guilt and resentment," I say. Dr. Hughes nods and I go on, "She mentioned I might resent Al. Why would she think that?"

"Some siblings do," Dr. Hughes answers. "For instance, there are abuse scenarios where only one child in a group of siblings is abused. That would lead to feelings of resentment from the abused child directed at the non-abused siblings. Make sense?"

"Yeah, but why would I resent Al?" I ask, baffled.

"I don't think you do," Dr. Hughes says. "But if you did, that'd be a personal journey for you to make. Our feelings don't always make sense, Ed. You know that from experience. Getting to the bottom of our stranger feelings takes work and most of the time it's a journey we take alone." I nod.

"I don't, you know," I say, Al glancing over at me. "I never have." Al grins weakly.

"That's good to know," Al replies lightly waving at someone. My eyes are drawn to who he's waving at. It's Hannah. No sign of Nicole. Maybe she won't come. Group starts in, like, five minutes. Maybe she won't show up.

"I'll talk to you a little after group," Dr. Hughes says, standing.

"Okay," I reply, watching him walk off. I sigh, Al looking anxiously at me.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Al asks worriedly.

"I've talked about the fence before I can do it again," I tell him matter of factly. "It sucks, but it's the next part of the story." Al nods, frowning in thought.

"There's not much left, is there?" Al says.

"Nope," I reply. "It's weird. In a couple weeks, I won't have a story to tell anymore. I've been doing it for months. It's weird to think that in a couple weeks, it'll be over." Al nods in agreement.

"Yeah, it is," Al agrees. "A few months ago, we never even talked about what happened, not with anyone. Now we do. That's a good thing, I think."

"I think so, too," I say with a grin. "I think I feel better since telling my story and I guess that was the whole point of the group." Al smiles weakly at me.

"I, uh, maybe I feel better, too," Al tells me. "I mean, I still feel really low and wanna hurt myself, but…. I don't know. I feel…different. It's a good different, though. It's hard to explain."

"I getcha," I reply.

"So," Al says softly. "Uh, d'you really think you can handle talking about the fence?" I nod somberly.

"Yeah," I answer darkly. "I've done it before. I told Dad. I can tell these kids."

"I'll hold your hand if you need me to," Al says. I smile fondly at him and ruffle his hair.

"You're the best, Al," I say, Dr. Hughes reigning in the group. There's still no sign of Nicole. Good. I don't want her here.

"Okay, let's get started," Dr. Hughes announces, everyone quieting down and returning to their seats. He quickly scans for new members and when he sees there aren't any, he turns to me. "Want to start us off, Ed?" I nod. I set my watch and start talking,

"By the time I was ten, I was starting to get pretty desperate. It was like the older we got, the rougher Vanessa got. Guess she thought we could handle more as we got bigger. I don't know. It wasn't like we were actually getting bigger, though. When I was ten, I looked maybe eight and weighed less than that. I remember Dada was concerned and wanted to take me and Al to a doctor because he was concerned about our growth. Never happened, though. Vanessa would lie and say she did it and claim the doctor gave her ways to help us grow a little. When we didn't gain weight or get taller after a few months, Dada would bring it up and the cycle started all over again. I don't really know why the abuse got worse, honestly. I just know that it did. Vanessa was locking me in the basement a lot, I was getting hit with the chain a lot, and me and Al were constantly playing the cleaning game. We were missing school, but we were always missing school. I guess the only reason me and Al never got held back was 'cause even at our worst, we were decent students so missing school wasn't that big a deal. Raised lots of red flags for lots of people, but it never did anything. We were talking martial arts with Teacher still and we spent a lot of time with her. I had accidently told her things over the past year, but her constant hot-lining never did anything. By the time I was ten, I was really starting to think that me and Al were gonna be abused forever.

"The week before spring break when I was in fourth grade, Dada was gone and wouldn't be back until the Sunday spring break ended. Things were rough that spring break. Spending all day every day with Vanessa meant constant beatings, getting screamed at all the time, and never getting fed. By that Thursday, we hadn't eaten since Dad was home. It was so long ago, I actually didn't know how many days it had been. Vanessa said she had to work that day and I was planning on doing something drastic. I was going to take Al to Granny's auto repair shop and tell her everything. I was gonna let her take pictures and do everything she needed to with the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would end. Vanessa left around eight that morning and I waited a full hour before leaving. I had to be sure she wasn't just circling the neighborhood waiting for us to leave. She hated Teacher and hated that we went to see her so much. She knew Teacher was on to her so she did her best to make sure we didn't sneak out to see her. At around nine, me and Al started the long walk to Granny's shop. It took a while, but we finally made it. We were going to just go in through the front door when Al froze suddenly.

"'What?' I asked worriedly. 'What's the matter?' Al's eyes shifted to the road and he started shaking.

'I j-j-j-just s-saw h-h-her c-c-car go by,' he whispered. My eyes widened and I knew she'd be circling around any minute to drag us home. I looked around, my eyes landing on the old, rusty, jagged fence that encased the back of the property. Old cars were parked on the other side, but me and Al could drop down easily. I dragged him over to the fence and looked up at it. Bits of metal were sticking up at the top and I grimaced. I really didn't want to climb the fence. It was dangerous and I knew that. But I also knew I wanted the abuse to end and going through the front door would mean getting caught before Granny even saw me or Al. If I wanted to tell Granny the truth and end everything right then and there, I knew I had to climb the fence.

'Al, you go first,' I instructed. 'I won't let you fall. Stop before you get to the top. I'll climb over the bad part first and help you get over, okay?" Al nodded.

'O-Okay,' he stuttered. He started to climb the fence and I had to give him a boost. He was so weak from days of not eating that he needed some help getting started. Once he was climbing, I started to climb, helping Al when he needed me to. After a few tense moments, we made it to the top. Al stopped like I told him to and I started to climb over the jagged pieces of metal.

'Careful,' Al warned worriedly, looking over at the building. He gasped loudly and said, 'Brother! Her car's parked on the road! She's coming!' I knew I had to hurry. I knew she wouldn't hesitate to drag us both off the fence. I started panicking, not being as careful as I should have been. The wind blew suddenly and I nearly lost my balance. I felt my left leg, right below the knee, dig into a particularly sharp, long piece of metal as I fought to stay on the fence. I screamed, the metal going straight through my leg. Blood trickled out of the wound on both ends and I quivered on the fence, not sure what I should do.

'Brother!' Al frantically cried. 'Your leg's stuck!' I didn't have the guts to look at it. I tried to pull it out cleanly, but nearly fell off the fence. Instead of the metal pulling right out, the metal stayed stuck. I struggled to free my leg, the metal tearing through my calf. I screamed, feeling every muscle, vessel, and tissue slicing open as I finally managed to pull my leg out. I couldn't hang on so I fell on my back, landing hard on the gravel. I could feel my leg bleeding heavily and sat up, watching as Al carefully hoisted himself over the fence. He quickly jumped down and hurried over, his face turning green.

'Oh, no,' Al whimpered, his chin quivering.

'I'm fine,' I lied, fighting tears. 'Let's j-just g-g-get to G-Granny b-b-b-before she does. Help me up.' Al grimaced but held his hand out to me. I grabbed it and he pulled me to my feet. My left leg nearly gave out and I cried out in pain. It hurt worse than anything I had ever felt before. My leg was basically a river of blood and could barely support my weight. I tried to take a step and nearly toppled over, Al rushing over to help. He put my arm around him and said,

'I'll help you.' With Al's help, I limped to the back entrance of Granny's shop, Al opening the door.

'Granny!' Al cried. 'Granny, help! Ed's hurt!' We walked to the front desk, freezing when we saw Vanessa sitting in the waiting area, a smile on her face.

'My goodness, boys, you are in a pickle, aren't you?' She said sweetly, Granny coming in from the garage.

'God, Edward!' Granny called, hurrying over. She inspected my leg and said, 'How did this happen?!' I glanced over at Vanessa and hung my head in shame.

'I hoped a fence,' I answered, my little voice shaking. 'I almost fell and my leg got cut on some metal.'

'He needs a doctor,' Granny informed Vanessa stiffly. 'I should call Hohenheim.'

'Pinako, you know Victor can't be disturbed at work,' Vanessa lied coolly. 'I'll take him.'

'Like you took Al last year when his appendix was about to bust?' Granny questioned harshly. 'You don't have the best track record and I know you're on thin ice with Hohenheim. Don't act like you're not. He's not sure he can trust you with his boys.'

'He's still upset over something that happened a year ago?' Vanessa questioned dully, picking at her nails.

'Al could have died!' Granny cried, still looking at my torn-up leg. 'Izumi and Hohenheim both told me how sick the little guy was! And you didn't even try to have him checked out! You may have fooled Hohenheim, but you can't fool me. I see right through you and someday, I'll have these boys removed from under your thumb. Just you wait.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Vanessa told her. 'My step-sons are bad boys. I can't connect with them or get them to listen to me. I haven't fooled anyone. They're just bad kids.' Al whimpered, his chin quivering and Granny shook her head.

'I have half a mind to take Ed myself,' Granny said. 'I don't know what good it would do, though. Nobody in this town seems to think there's a problem besides myself and Izumi and Sig Curtis.'

'Because there's not a problem,' Vanessa insisted. 'Now, the longer you stand here and accuse me of abuse the longer Ed's on that leg. He's losing a lot of blood, you know.' Granny scowled at her and Vanessa smiled sweetly. 'Besides, it's not your responsibility to take care of these boys. It's mine. I could raise a stink if you take my step-son without my permission like Izumi did last year with Al. That wouldn't be good for anyone, including you. Let's just avoid a problem, okay?' I glanced up at Granny, her jaw tightening.

'If I have any reason to believe you didn't take him to the ER, I'm calling the police,' Granny informed her angrily.

'Oh, no,' Vanessa lamented sarcastically. 'How terrible. The police who can never find proof of what you've convinced yourself is true.' Granny scowled at Vanessa but quickly looked at me instead.

'Ed,' she addressed in a hushed tone, probably so Vanessa couldn't hear, 'Call me tonight if she doesn't take you ER. Call me or Izumi or even your father but please, call someone. I can't really see your leg, but judging by the amount of blood you're badly hurt. Do it when she's in bed if you're scared but please call someone.' I nodded, shaking because my leg hurt so damn bed.

'Okay,' I answered. Al helped me limp out to Vanessa's car and we got inside. I had every intention of calling someone that night 'cause I knew Vanessa had no plans of taking me to the hospital. Unfortunately for me, Vanessa had something in mind that would do more damage than the initial injury did.

"As soon as we got home, Vanessa dragged us both downstairs to the basement. She yelled the whole time, screaming about how we almost destroyed the family by running away to Granny's auto repair shop. She angrily reminded us that what happened at home between us and her was a secret – a secret we weren't supposed to tell. She also reminded us that because of what happened when Al was in first grade, it was likely that no one would take us seriously. After all, Teacher and Granny and Sig and even a teacher here and there had called the police or hot-lined our family but nothing ever happened. They always called right when we were beginning to heal. Our house wasn't messy like lots of child abuse cases and our dad was so affectionate and loving that no one believed that in our classic, two-story house horrific abuse was happening. Vanessa truly had built up a story that we were liars and bad and loved to be dirty and that she was the poor step-mother who just couldn't connect with her husband's kids. Anyway, when she was done screaming at us she locked us both in the basement. Al had never been trapped down there like me so he pretty much started wailing as soon as the door was closed. Al's scared of the dark and even in the day the basement is pretty dark since there's only one tiny window. I rolled up my torn-up pant leg, trying to get a good look at my leg in the dim light. I couldn't see much, but what I saw was awful. Blood was everywhere, still pouring out of my leg from both sides. I could see a long, deep, jagged gash but couldn't see anything else about it. I knew that at least some of it went straight through, I just didn't know how much.

"Al and I tried to use the downstairs rinse sink in the laundry room to rinse out my leg and stop the bleeding. We quickly learned, though, that Vanessa must have been planning on leaving us down there 'cause the water to the basement was shut off. My leg got achy and heavy as time went on, the bleeding never getting much better. I was feeling light-headed and sick as my leg was left exposed to the open air. Al found some old towels to wrap around it. He wasn't sure how clean they were but it didn't matter. If we didn't stop the bleeding, I'd die of shock or blood loss before Dada came home on Saturday morning. Once the bleeding was better controlled, we both knew it was a waiting game until Dad came back. I could feel myself getting sick as I got nauseated a lot. My leg felt like there were pins and needles inside and I couldn't get comfortable. I tried throwing up, but I had nothing in my tummy to throw up after a solid two weeks or so barely eating anything. I was dehydrated and that didn't help anything. I wondered if my leg was gonna get infected as I sat down stairs with Al. Al'd curl up next to me for hours, his head resting on my right thigh. He was scared and didn't handle the dark well at all. When he was awake, he was crying. I'd cry too, Vanessa occasionally opening the door to yell at us to stay quiet. Early Saturday morning, almost a full forty-eight hours after I cut my leg and got locked in the basement, Vanessa came to get us. We got a bath and some food, Vanessa wrapping my leg up. I finally got a good look at it and let me tell you – it was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen. The part closest to my knee went almost all the way through my calf. I could see muscles and bone and it made me feel more sick than I already felt. As the cut went down my leg, it got shallower. Yellow and white globs of puss oozed out of it and Vanessa didn't bother cleaning it. I could hardly bare weight on my left leg and could barely walk. I had no idea what would happen to me when Dada came home.

"An hour or two after my leg got wrapped, I was lying in bed, trying to get some sleep. Al was lying next to me, snoozing as I stared at the ceiling. My leg hurt so bad I couldn't fall asleep even though I really wanted to. My stomach was upset, I felt like I was running a fever, and my whole body ached. I knew my leg was the reason I was sick. I had a nasty feeling that my leg itself was infected. Nothing oozed nasty yellow gunk unless it was infected. I sighed, holding Lamby under my arm. I missed Dada so much. I sat up, wincing 'cause everything hurt so bad. I never called Granny like she told me to. I kinda wanted to, but wasn't sure I'd be able walk to the phone with my leg the way it was. I could barely walk on it when it happened. It had been a couple days since it happened and it hadn't gotten any better considering it didn't get cleaned or anything. Walking seemed out of the question. Al stirred behind me and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"'Is Daddy home?' Al yawned. I shrugged.

'Don't think so,' I replied quietly. Al sighed and hung his head.

'I want him to come home now,' Al sniffled, our door opening. Al clung to me, whimpering loudly as Dada came into the room. Al let go of me instantly and he ran over to Dad. Dad picked him up and carried him over to my bed. Dada sat down next to me, Al on his lap and said,

'I heard you had an accident. How's your leg, honey?'

'It hurts,' I replied.

'Pretty bad?' Dad asked. I nodded.

'Pretty bad,' I echoed. 'It's oozing yellow stuff, Daddy.'

'Can I look it?' Dad asked.

'Yeah,' I answered. 'I don't feel good. I'm all achy.'

'I think you're running fever,' Dada commented. He lifted Al off his lap and sat him down next to him. Dad gently pulled the covers back and lifted my left leg on to his lap. He started to remove the bandages, gasping as he took them off.

'Oh, God,' Dada breathed. I looked up at him, a worried look on my face. 'Baby, what did you do?'

'I, uh,' I stammered, not sure what to say. Usually Vanessa gave me a bullshit story to tell people but I didn't have one. She didn't tell me what to say so I just said, 'I had an accident.'

'Edward, what happened?' Dada pressed. 'This is bad. We have to get you to the doctor, now.'

'I, um, hopped a fence,' I said. 'It's my fault. I'm stupid and tried to climb a fence. I'm sorry, Dada.'

'Honey, you're not stupid,' Dad assured me. 'We need to go the ER. Your leg is way worse than Vanessa let on.' Dada picked me up and I clung on to his clothes.

'I'm sorry,' I apologized. 'I'm sorry.'

'Ed, baby, it's okay,' Dad whispered. 'It's okay. It was an accident. You didn't do anything wrong.' Al hurried to follow us, Dada carrying me down the stairs.

'Vanessa!' Dad called.

'Yes,' Vanessa replied, poking her head out from the kitchen.

'Care to explain Ed's leg to me?' Dada asked angrily. 'How did it get so bad? Why haven't you taken him to get stitched?! He clearly needs stitches!'

'He's scared of the hospital, Victor,' Vanessa said anxiously. 'He won't let me take him. He screams and cries whenever I try. I cleaned it as best I could –'

'Did he get a tetanus shot!?' Dada demanded. Vanessa scowled at him and crossed her arms.

'How could he if he won't let me take him to a doctor?' Vanessa asked.

'His leg is infected!' Dad yelled, Al hiding behind him. I hid my face as Dada went on, 'He could lose it now! I know he's scared of the hospital but he's old enough to understand why he needs to go! You should have called me to calm him down!'

'I'm sorry, I did what I could,' Vanessa argued. 'He doesn't listen to me! Neither of them do!' Dada stomped to the kitchen, grabbing his keys off the counter.

'I can't stand to be around you right now,' Dad told her angrily.

'Victor, it's not like I didn't try,' Vanessa said, Dad pausing. 'I wanted to take him, I did. He fought me so hard. Besides, it just happened yesterday. I didn't think it would get so bad overnight. Ed's not being 100% truthful about what happened, either.' I looked up at Dada, his jaw clenched.

'I've got to go,' Dad said, leaving. Al hurried behind him and he put me in the car. Dada started driving and he glanced backward at me from the front. 'Is what Vanessa said true, Ed? Are you lying about what happened?' I shook my head frantically.

'No!' I cried, tears welling up in my eyes. 'I'm not a liar! I was playing outside and tried to climb a fence! I almost fell off and hurt my leg! That's really what happened!'

'And did you fight Vanessa about the hospital?' Dada questioned. I licked my lips, wringing my hands together anxiously.

'I, um, well,' I struggled, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell him the truth, but knew the truth may not do any good. It hadn't before. This situation definitely didn't paint Vanessa in a good light, but that never mattered before. I figured it wouldn't matter then, either. 'I, uh, don't really remember, Dada. I'm sorry. I don't remember.'

'Well, even if you did fight her, Vanessa could have gotten you seen regardless,' Dada grumbled. I didn't realize it as a little kid, but Dada and Vanessa were having marriage problems around this time that Dad kept hidden from me and Al. He didn't want to stress us out. Apparently, they were fighting constantly and could never get along. I think the only reason they were still together was 'cause Dada was out of town so much. If he had been home more, he either would have realized the abuse was happening a long time ago or broken up with her. They were actually on the rode to divorce, I think, before we got rescued. Dada almost broke up with her over this, but they "worked it out" through come couples counseling. They never really got passed this, though.

"We got to the hospital and got seen pretty quick. A bunch of people came in to look at my leg. Dada was on the phone with Granny and Vanessa a lot, clearly trying to get a clear story. He had mine, Vanessa's, and Granny's story and none of them really matched up so he really didn't know what really happened or what the time frame was. Lots of doctors and nurses got a good look at my leg and it got cleaned (that hurt so bad, I can't even describe it) and they bandaged it up. It was a waiting game after that. I heard doctors throw around words like 'severe trauma', 'internal damage', and 'potential for sepsis' but had no idea what any of that meant. I just knew it was all bad. Dad was done talking on the phone by then. Al was sitting on one side of me and he was sitting on the other. My head was resting up against his arm, Dada petting my hair. Someone knocked and Dada told them it was okay to come in. It was one of the doctors I saw earlier, the one who ordered the x-ray and some other tests. He shut the door and sighed, Dada standing up.

'Well?' Dada asked anxiously.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Elric,' the doctor began, my heart stalling. 'There is extensive internal damage in his left calf. There is a puncture wound right below the knee that goes all the way through and the laceration on the calf is long, jagged, and deep. Infection is starting to talk its toll on not only the limb, but your son. He's at risk for sepsis or septic shock and the only way to completely prevent those complications is to amputate. The damage is too extensive and it's unlikely he'd ever regain full mobility and use of that leg, even if severe infection is avoided. I'm very sorry, but the best course of action is amputation. You can refuse, of course, but refusing could cost your son his life.'

'You're not serious,' Dada breathed, sitting back down on the bed next to me. I stared at my lap, Dada shaking his head. 'There's really nothing else you can do?'

'Nothing else that would offer the same results as amputation,' the doctor replied. 'I can't imagine how difficult it is to accept but I assure you that amputating the leg is the best thing to do for your son.' I looked up at Dad, his chin quivering.

'Daddy,' I whimpered, 'Am I gonna lose my leg?' Dada nodded and choked. He started crying so I started, too.

'We'll get admission started,' the doctor told us. 'He'll go into surgery either tomorrow or Monday morning. We can get a mental health professional in to see you if you'd like. Just let a nurse know.' Dada nodded and the doctor left, leaving me and him sobbing on the bed, Al trying to comfort us both.

"I heard lots of people tell me I could still live a good life with a missing leg. I was gonna get a prosthetic when I was healed. I was gonna learn to walk on it, but it would be hard since I was going to be losing my knee. Dada and I cried a lot that day. I had nice nurses who helped me get to the bathroom without putting weight on my leg. The following morning, I lost my leg. That Monday, an investigation was done on my family through social services and while they were concerned about family dynamics, they didn't find conclusive evidence of abuse. Like I said, Dada and Vanessa were rocky after this and Granny even thinks that if this hadn't happened, Al's breakdown three years later may not have been enough to get us rescued. All I know is that my desperation to escape and Vanessa's cruelty ultimately cost me my leg, something I'll have to live with the rest of my life."

My watch beeps and I turn it off. I look around the room, Hannah's eyes glued to my left leg. She's pale, almost like she can't believe what I just said. I shake my head and ignore her, Al squeezing my hand. Maybe she didn't know I have a fake leg. That isn't exactly information I go spreading around. I mean, I don't care if people know but I don't start off conversations by saying, "Hey, my name's Ed and my left leg is fake. Nice to meet you!" That would freak people out, I think. That sort of thing makes people uncomfortable. But people always get uncomfortable when they learn I have a fake leg. Rose and Ling learned I had a fake leg right after it happened and Paninya figured it out when I wore shorts after she moved here. But she has prosthetics, too, so it wasn't like she was uncomfortable. But everyone else gets all awkward when they learn. They fidget a little and try not to look at my leg, but always do. They never feel comfortable enough to ask questions. All they do is stare. I guess that's what Hannah and the rest of the group is doing. Nobody besides Al and Dr. Hughes knew that I lost my left leg when I was ten. And now they know. The group begins to talk like most weeks and I can feel Hannah's eyes on my leg the rest of the hour. Group ends and I know Dr. Hughes is gonna want to talk to me and Al before we leave. I stand up and stretch, Al getting up, too. Hannah walks over and I groan softly, Al elbowing me in the ribs. She pauses in front of me, staring at my leg. I look at her and she keeps staring at my left leg.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

"I had no idea," Hannah says softly.

"I don't go around telling people, you know," I tell her, crossing my arms. "You would have found out by May 'cause I'd start wearing shorts."

"Yes, but, I know the story now," she says quietly. "Your father…. He should have called the police and had her arrested for what she did to you."

"What do you know?!" I question loudly. "You have no idea what he was going through!"

"Does it matter?" Hannah argues loudly, Al inching behind me. "You lost your leg because of her! Your granny and your dad didn't do enough to help! Your granny should have come over to check on you or just taken you to the ER right away! They all failed you but the state thinks it's safe live with your dad?!"

"Shut the fuck up!" I yell, the group looking at me. "You have no idea what you're talking about! Granny tried to help! So did Teacher! But they felt trapped 'cause of shit that happened before! She made it so nobody could help! Haven't you listened to a fucking word I've said since you started coming? You have no fucking idea what you're talking about!"

"Edward," Dr. Hughes says calmly, "Take a few steps back and take a few deep breaths." I glare at Hannah but back away from her. I try to breathe, Al cowering behind me. Dr. Hughes walks over and looks over at Hannah.

"Hannah, this is a touchy subject for Ed and you know that," Dr. Hughes says. "I've told you before that their father truly didn't know what was going on between the boys and his wife. The adults in their lives did everything they could for the boys, but false information and the attitudes of child protective services prevented them from truly being able to help. Exploding and claiming negligence on the adults in their lives isn't a way to promote recovery. If your attitude is going to continue to be a problem, I may have to ask you to stop coming. Understand?" Hannah crosses her arms and nods.

"What about him?" She spits angrily.

"Edward and Alphonse have been a member of this group for almost a year and have not caused any disruptions in that time," Dr. Hughes explained. "In other words, they stay and you would have to go. You harassing Ed for answers about something he's not comfortable with isn't something I'll put up with much longer. Try to take calming breaths and acknowledge Ed's request that members of the group shouldn't talk to him about the abuse after group ends. I want everyone to benefit from this group, including you. Try to be more aware of others next week." Hannah glares at Dr. Hughes and storms back to her seat. She grabs her stuff and stomps out of the room, bumping into me. I glare at her back as she leaves, calmed down. I look over at Dr. Hughes and say,

"Uh, sorry I exploded. She just wouldn't leave it alone. Talking about how I lost my leg sucks and I didn't need her coming up to me and saying what she said. I'm sorry." Dr. Hughes smiles at me.

"I understand," he tells me. "I know how painful the memory of losing your leg is. I also know how painful it is for you to talk about how powerless not only you and Al were, but how powerless the adults trying to help you were, too."

"Poor Granny," Al says softly from behind me. "She wanted to help so bad, but knew if she did, she would stop it or twist it somehow so Granny looked like the bad guy."

"She was good at that," I grumble.

"Ed, you've never mentioned that your dad and step-mom were having marriage problems," Dr. Hughes says. I shrug.

"Never came up," I brush off. "'Sides – it's not like anything really came of it. They went to some marriage counseling thing and 'fixed' it. I mean, Dada didn't like her staying home alone with us anymore after I lost my leg, but they weren't broken up."

"I feel like this is something you need to work through, Ed," Dr. Hughes tells me. "Dr. Bergmann might be able to help."

"Work through?" I question. "Why? 'Cause I resent Dada?"

"Yes," Dr. Hughes replies. "This event of them nearly breaking up, your father getting so close to the truth only to back off, clearly hurt you and hurt your trust with him. I feel like it's important to work through." I nod, though I really don't wanna talk about it. I wanna stop resenting my dad, I do. But, like, just thinking about how close he was to figuring everything out and ending it when I was ten only to pick her over us again hurts too damn much. I don't wanna talk about it with anyone. Not Dr. Hughes, Dr. Bergmann, not even Al. I don't want to talk about it.

"Boys," Dada says, walking inside the room. Al hurries over and gives him a big hug, Dad chuckling weakly at him. "Did you miss me?" I can see Al nod and I grin weakly. Dada and Al walk back over, Al being a little clingy. Not that I blame him. It's only Wednesday but this week has been horrible and hard so far. Al can be as clingy as he wants if you ask me.

"You okay, Ed?" Dad asks. I nod.

"I'm okay," I answer.

"So, group went okay, then?" Dada asks.

"I made it through my story without crying so, yeah," I reply. "Uh, Hannah and I did get into a yelling match afterword, but only 'cause she was talking about stuff she doesn't know anything about. She always wants to talk about my story after group and I told her not to but she doesn't listen." I sniffle and Dad sighs.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes softly. "You sure you're okay?" I scowl but not.

"I said I'm fine," I snap softly. "God, you're just like Hannah sometimes. You never know when to back off." I cross my arms, Al scowling at me at Dad's side.

"Rude," he comments angrily.

"So?" I question.

"Boys," Dada interjects quickly. "Let's not get into it in public. Thanks again, Dr. Hughes. C'mon, boys." Al waves at Dr. Hughes and we all leave. I'm still mad so I don't talk to anyone as we get into the car. Dad pulls out of the parking spot and starts to drive, his eyes sliding over to me.

"We need to talk about your attitude," he tells me matter-of-factly. I glare at him.

"What attitude?" I scoff.

"That one," Dad says. "Edward, you can't talk to me that way."

"I can talk to you however I feel like talking to you!" I snap loudly. "You weren't there when we needed you! You abandoned us! You can't start acting like a father now and expect everything to just be happy and good all the time!"

"Edward," Dad sighs, "I understand how you feel –"

"No, you don't!" I yell, cutting him off. "How the hell could you?! I mean, Jesus! You saw my leg! You saw it! You heard her bullshit story! Hell, you even thought it was bullshit, too! But you fucking stayed with her! You picked her over me and Al! You always did! You have no idea how that feels!" I'm heaving, Al watching worriedly from the backseat. Dada lowers his head and I glare at him.

"Edward," he says softly. "I'm sorry."
"I don't fucking care!" I scream at him. "I hate you!" Al gasps loudly from the back and

I glare at him. "Don't you start, you daddy's boy. I don't want to hear it."

"Edward," Dad warns.

"What?!" I cry angrily. "He always stands up for you! He shouldn't! Everything is your fault but Al stupidly worships the ground you walk on! It gets on my fucking nerves! He gets on my fucking nerves! He's always tugging on my clothes and whining and crying and sucking his thumb like some big dumb baby! Grow up!" Al's bottom lip trembles and he hangs his head. The car stops roughly at a stop light, Dada scowling at me.

"That's enough," Dad commands. "Edward James, I am extremely disappointed in you. I know that you have complex feelings of resentment and blame toward me. I do. I would, too, if what happened to you happened to me. But that does not give you an excuse to blow up at myself or your brother. You and Alphonse process very differently and that's okay. You're grounded, Ed. I'm not going to put up with that." My brow furrows.

"Seriously?" I question.

"Oh, yes," Dad replies angrily. "You cannot use your feelings and experiences to justify being mean to other people. That's not how it works."

"B-But," I croak, licking my lips as my throat closes up, "I wanna take the permit test tomorrow."

"That'll have to wait," Dad tells me.

"Dada!" I cry.

"Sorry, but you can't get what you want after treating me and Al that way," Dad scolds.

"I didn't mean it," I say frantically. "Well, most of it, anyways! I don't know why I say the things I say when I'm angry! Honest! I don't hate you! I don't! Please let me take the permit test, Dada! Please!"

"Ed, no," Dad says firmly.

"Dad!" I cry. "Please! I can be good! I'm sorry! I'll be good!"

"Ed," Dad sighs. "Honey, I have to punish you. Do you understand? You're still a good boy and we'll take the test next week. But you have to learn there are consequences to blowing up at people. I've been far too lenient, I think." I quiver, tears forming in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, sniffling loudly. "I'm sorry. I wanna take the test. I wanna be good. I'll be good." Dad exhales loudly and shakes his head.

"Edward," Dad says gently as I start crying. "Honey, it's okay. I still love you. You're still a good boy. Ed, it's okay." I keep crying and Dad sighs again; "I really am soft, aren't I? Geeze, I can never seem to pull the trigger now a days when it comes to punishment. Not that I have to punish you boys very often, but still. Edward, I'll let you off the hook this time because I know you're very upset from having to tell your story today. You aren't grounded and you can take the test tomorrow just like we planned. But the next time you yell like that or bully Alphonse, I won't be soft on you." I wipe my face.

"I'm sorry," I whimper. We're at a stop light so Dada leans over to me. He pulls me into a hug and pets my hair.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you how incredibly proud I am of you," he tells me softly. "You told the story of losing your leg and I know how hard that must have been. I know you're emotional and upset and that's why you blew up." I nod.

"I'm sorry," I say again. "I don't hate you. And Al doesn't annoy me. I don't care if he tugs on my clothes or sucks his thumb or cries. Hell, I cry a lot, too. Sorry, Al." Al glances up at me and wipes his face.

"It's okay," Al whimpers.

"It's really not," I argue weakly, Dada letting go of me so he can drive. "I don't want to be mean to anyone, especially you and Dad."

"You've done very well recently, Ed, at being patient before speaking and I'm very proud," Dad adds, Al nodding along.

"You haven't been mean to me in a long time," Al agrees, grinning weakly. "I'm proud of you, Brother." I blink, a weak smile crawling across my face.

"You're the best, Al," I tell him. "You know that, right?" Al shakes his head.

"No," he replies. I smirk and undo my seatbelt. I crawl into the backseat, Dad yelping in surprise, and sit next to Al. I tickle his sides, Al laughing wildly.

"No?" I echo, Al giggling madly. "You goofball; you're the best person I know."

"E-Ed, st-stop!" Al laughs, Dada chuckling from the front.

"I believe I've asked you to not crawl from the front to the back while the car is in motion," Dad teases. I stick my tongue out at him, Al cackling loudly.

"B-Brother!" Al laughs, practically begging for me to stop. I do, Al giggling lightly.

"Who's the best?" I ask.

"Me, I guess," Al giggles. "I gotta pee now. Thanks." I shove him lightly.

"Just keeping you regular," I tell him.

"Ed, honey, we all know Al has no issues with that," Dad cuts in, Al blushing.

"Hey," he whines.

"You pee every hour, sweetie," Dad says. "That's pretty darn regular."

"Dad," I say.

"Yes?"

"I really am sorry," I tell him.

"I know, Ed, I know," Dada replies. He grins at me from the review mirror and says, "I'm a little relieved I didn't go through with punishing you. I don't think I could have stuck to it, honestly."

"Guess I won the parent lottery," I say, shrugging. Al laughs and we head home, my mind off the fence for the first time all day.