More sensitive topic warning. Violence, child abuse, and blood/gore.

Riley took his time that night. He walked slowly through the cold darkness, feeling the frosty air through the new cuts in his long-sleeve. Tonight was particularly chilly, and snow had begun to fall lightly once again. He sighed, watching his breath fog the air, then shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground as he walked. Why was he going back? Why? The same as always. The same reason he always went back the day after his father would beat him. Fear.

He thought it stupid how he was so afraid of that man that he would actually go back to him. Why? Had he really let himself be conditioned that way? He had promised Butters that he wouldn't let his father hurt him anymore… How was he going to keep a promise like that? If he ran away, he'd be found, and the consequences would be painful. If he tried to go to someone for help or the police, they might not believe him. His father could probably find a way to weasel out of it like he always did when he was at risk of something. If he fought back…could he fight back?

He halted suddenly, his shoes scraping the cement, and looked up. He was already standing at the corner of Locke Boulevard. Riley had never tried to fight back against his father before. He shook his head. What a stupid idea. He started walking again.

He walked all the way down the street. All the way to the overgrown lawn where the yellowed house sat waiting. Its damaged front door and boarded windows were less than welcoming, and the roof was sunken in from weather damage. Even the house itself looked tired and ready to give up. He stared emotionlessly up at the little house. This would be the last time he returned to this place, and he felt nothing.

Riley opened the door, stepped inside and closed it behind him, then stood there quietly and watched. Listened… He heard nothing, and nothing moved, so he silently walked across the living room, into the hall, and into his room and closed the door. Taking a moment to study the room, he found his yellow schoolbag and pulled it up onto the bed. He started collecting his things into the bag; he didn't own much. A few pairs of old clothes, his tooth and hair brushes, some medical supplies and bandages, a lighter, and his shoes were already on his feet. Now, the next question was where he would go…

As he zipped up the last zipper on the bag, he heard someone moving down the hall. He froze, tensing as the door was thrown open. "What the hell are you doing?" his father asked.

Riley's first instinct was to apologize, but he held his tongue and slowly turned to face him. He stared at the ground, like always.

"I asked you a question," the man growled dangerously.

Riley forced himself to look up at the man, sending him a defiant, hate-filled glare. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, bracing himself. "I…I'm leaving."

"HA!" He leaned against the doorframe and pointed at him, the rest of his fingers clinging to a bottle. "You're LEAVING?" He chuckled. "And where the hell are you gonna go, huh? The fucking orphanage?"

"Anywhere, even living under a bridge, is better than living with you," Riley said firmly, though his voice was shaking.

"Didn't you learn your lesson the first damn time you tried running away?" He pushed himself off the doorframe. "When I DRAGGED your ass back here and beat the shit out of you!?" He threw the bottle at the boy.

Riley lost his balance from the impact and fell onto his side, managing to catch himself with his right hand. His broken arm seared with pain and he hissed through his teeth. He used his other hand to wipe the alcohol from his eyes then opened them in time to see the man reaching for him. He panicked; he didn't want to deal with it anymore. Ten long years… He couldn't even recall when it started if he tried. It just was. But no more. He was tired of it.

With tears of panic and fury in his eyes, Riley reached out and grabbed something just as his father grabbed hold of his shirt and lifted him from the floor. He tightened his grip on the object, recognizing it as a large piece of the broken bottle as it sliced into his hand. Without hesitation, without thinking, he swung and thrust the broken glass into the man's neck.

With a horrid choking sound, he dropped Riley and grabbed at his own throat. Instinctually, he ripped the glass out, spraying the wall and carpet with blood from his jugular. He stared, eyes bulging, at nothing, stumbling backwards as a gurgling, choking sound emitted from his throat. Blood was just spraying from his neck and pouring from his mouth like water. Finally, he lost his balance and fell back against the wall, slumping down to the floor, and falling over in a pool of his own blood.

Riley had fallen to the floor against the side of his bed, where he had pushed himself so hard up against it that he managed to move it a little trying to get away from the scene. He stared, horrified, as blood sprayed and splattered the wall and soaked into the carpet. After his father had fallen and stopped moving, Riley felt a rush of panic so strong that he choked on his own breath and almost vomited. He hurriedly scrambled up and over the bed, landing on the floor on the other side, and huddled himself up tightly in the corner his bed made with the wall. He sat there like this, with his hands on his head tightly clutching his hair, and his face hiding between his knees, shaking violently as tears fell from his face.

After several minutes, his shaking finally settled down and he slowly lifted his head to wipe his face. He whimpered with pain, forgetting about his injured arm once again, then loosened himself and leaned back against the wall to steady his breathing. With a deep, shaky breath, he slowly got himself to his feet and grabbed his bag, slinging it over the shoulder of his uninjured arm. He stared fearfully at the body as he walked around the bed and towards the door, expecting him to jump up at any moment and attack him. He didn't bother checking if he was really dead; he was too afraid.

.

Brooke grunted and turned over the other way as someone nudged her. She heard someone say her name, but she tried to ignore it. She could feel them shaking her arm now. With an irritated groan, she opened her eyes. She could see the night sky and stars through her window. She looked over her shoulder and leered at Lucy. "What?" her voice cracked.

Lucy looked nervous. "Brooke," she said quietly but urgently. "You NEED to come downstairs, right now! To the shed!"

"Huh?" She rubbed her eyes and turned over to her back. "Why? What time is it?"

Lucy glanced over her shoulder. "It's two thirty-seven a.m." She looked back at her. "Riley's here."

"Riley?"

"Please," she said urgently. "You MUST come with me!"

Without waiting for a response, she turned and quickly but quietly left the room. Brooke threw her sheets aside and followed. Why was Riley here at almost three in the morning? She found Lucy waiting at the bottom of the stairs and nervously shifting her feet. Upon seeing that Brooke was indeed following, Lucy went into the kitchen to exit through the backdoor. Brooke followed, letting Sniper outside before closing the door and continuing towards the shed. Lucy waited for her by the shed door.

"He showed up only a few minutes ago," Lucy told her. "He's very hurt and seems to be in a sort of…shock."

"What?"

"I…I can treat his injuries, but I thought that maybe…you could comfort him?" She opened the door to allow Brooke inside first.

Riley was sitting with his feet up and knees pulled close on one of the black couches inside. He was shaking slightly, either from fear or the cold, and looked very beaten and tired. His shirt was torn and stained and he was holding his right arm close to his chest. His left hand was cut and bleeding, and his face was cut and bruised. His sandy-colored hair was dark and wet, as was the top half of his shirt, and he smelled like beer. He was staring absently at the floor.

"Riley," Brooke hurried over to his side. "What happened?!"

He blinked and slowly looked over at her. "I…I didn't…" His words faded and he looked down again.

She sat beside him and carefully moved his wet hair out of his eyes then lightly stroked his cheek. "Okay Riley. You don't have to say anything right now. Just try to calm down. Lucy and I are going to take care of you."

She could feel him shaking, but he noticeably leaned into her touch and let out a long breath of relief. Lucy had gone off somewhere and returned with a large bowl of warm water and a small towel which she placed on the coffee table beside Brooke then turned and went to gather some things to treat the boy's wounds. Brooke got up and grabbed his ankles, gently pulling his legs down, then, as carefully as she could, she removed his shirt, feeling bad as he whimpered with pain. She took in a sharp breath at the sight of all the bruises and cuts on his body. A lot of them had been cleaned and bandaged already, but some were bleeding again or new. She glanced over and noticed Lucy shaking as she collected some things. Why was Lucy so shaken?

Brooke reached into the bowl and wrung out the towel. She sat back down beside Riley and started to carefully wipe his face with it. He winced a little but soon turned his head towards her to allow her to better see. After cleaning up his face, she moved to his shoulders and body, making sure to be extra careful with his right arm as it appeared to be hurting him the most. He closed his eyes and lowered his head when she began running some of the water through his hair.

Lucy brought over a larger, dry towel and placed it on his lap to catch the excess water, then used a smaller one to dry his body before setting to work on cleaning the cuts.

Meanwhile, Brooke had finished washing his hair and took the large towel to dry his head. After, she took his left hand and turned it over to examine the fresh cuts. They weren't too deep, but they were still bleeding actively. She cleaned and started wrapping his hand with fresh bandages, then bent his elbow and placed his hand against his chest. "Keep your hand up for a little bit."

Lucy was examining his right arm critically. It was mostly definitely broken. "I'm…going to have to set this."

Knowing that that meant a great deal of pain for Riley, Brooke grabbed one of the smaller towels and held it up to him. "Bite this." He obeyed without question. She gently pulled him closer, holding his head to her shoulder and wrapping her other arm around his waist, and watched as Lucy prepared a tourniquet.

Knowing exactly what was happening, Riley shut his eyes tightly and leaned into Brooke as Lucy took his arm. He bit down on the folded towel so hard that his jaw hurt, his scream muffled by both the towel and the girl's shoulder.

Brooke shut her eyes at the sounds. Screaming and the sounds of broken bones…it was too familiar. Luckily for poor Riley, Lucy, although young, was incredibly gifted in the medical field, so the event was over almost as quickly as it had started. She could feel him breathing heavily against her as he tried to calm down now that Lucy was only wrapping it. She ran her fingers through his damp hair and kissed his head.

"There." Lucy had wrapped his arm and shoulder up in a sling of sorts. She got up and pulled a blanket from the other sofa and carefully placed it around him.

Brooke took the towel from his mouth and tossed it aside. She leaned back on the couch and allowed him to stay leaning against her as he finally lost consciousness and fell into a deep sleep. She lightly stroked his back as he slept.

Lucy sat on the other side of the sofa and watched sadly. "I…used my Oracle abilities…to see what had happened when he showed up. He – He couldn't explain so I…" she looked away.

"What is it, Lucy?"

"His own father… His father hurt him, severely. On purpose…and…"

Brooke glanced down at the sleeping boy resting on her shoulder. "Riley…" she said quietly.

To be continued…

Poor Riley finally got some much needed TLC. Brooke is a LOT more tender and caring than she makes herself out to be.