Jan. 4th , 2011
The moment Danny got a call from the hospital he dropped everything. He told none of his workers what happened or even his boss why he was leaving; his mind was in too much of a chaotic whirlwind. He didn't hear them calling out to him in confusion or concern. The only thing he heard was what the doctor on the phone told him. It was on a loop, repeating over and over, driving the guilt further into his chest.

"Oh god, please, not again."

It felt like he was reliving the worst moment of his life. It was the same as it was before, getting a phone call from someone at the hospital while he was at work.

The drive to Brockton Bay General Hospital was ten minutes minus traffic. Danny made it in six, speeding the whole time. Getting a speeding ticket was the least of his concerns.

After he explained to the nurse at the front desk who he was, the poor woman able to understand him in the middle of his unintelligible babbling, he was taken to a room further in.

Taylor, his pride and joy, the only family he had left, was lying on a bed, hooked up to a machine that kept beeping loudly. A tube was stuck to her arm, connected to a bag filled with fluids. Her skin was deathly pale, and she looked like she was asleep.

"We found her when we went to talk to the principal," Murphy told him. The man looked at Taylor with a haunted expression. Danny knew why. Like him, he had lost his wife a few years ago and his daughter was only six or seven. Seeing Taylor like this must have made him imagine what it would be like if that had been his daughter in there, and he did not like the image at all. "She was inside her locker. Must have been in there for hours."

Danny felt sick. "Why was she trapped inside her own locker?" he asked desperately. He felt the infamous Hebert family anger building inside his chest. "And why is she on an IV?"

"The locker was…" Murphy dragged a hand down his face. "God, I don't even know how to describe it. Someone dumped the contents of the waste bin in the girls' bathroom in there, let it sit for a couple of days, then they shoved her inside."

The anger increased tenfold. "Who?"

He wanted to punch someone. More than that, he was ready to break somebody's neck. You didn't just somehow get yourself trapped inside your own locker. Someone pushed her daughter in there. He didn't care if it was a teacher or a student or even Lung that did this. Someone was going to pay.

"We don't know. Blackwell wasn't keen on talking when we told her we were there to ask about Taylor. Clammed up and said she skipped all her afternoon classes." Murphy looked at Danny with a pained expression. "I gotta be honest with you, Dan. I don't think we'll be able to do much."

"And why the fuck not?!" Danny demanded.

Murphy glared back. "You know why! We live in one of the worst cities in the U.S., Danny! Every day, we got phone calls about gang shootings, overdoses and capes running around blowing shit up! We do not have enough manpower, not enough people, not enough cops! If I told my C.O. that we got some kid who almost died because of some prank gone wrong, he's going to tell me to forget about it. As far as he's concerned, she's a statistic."

Danny's shoulders shook with rage. He wanted to scream at Murphy, but he knew his friend was right. Brockton Bay had all sorts of problems, ranging from business droughts and the overgrowth of the criminal element to the capes that made everyone's lives a living hell. The PRT was outnumbered and facing a war from all sides, whether it was dealing with the Azn Bad Boys and Lung or Kaiser's Empire Eighty-Eight. In between all of this was the cops, normal men and women who had to deal with the beginning of the shitstorm caused by cape fights and the aftermath, especially when the PRT couldn't be bothered to deal with the Merchants.

Murphy was a good man. He had been his neighbor for twelve years now and was the guy who tried to save Annette's life. He even babysat Taylor on a few occasions.

His anger dissipated slightly as he turned away and looked back at Taylor. His baby girl and the only thing he had left.

Danny knew deep down that this was his fault. He had seen the signs: Her coming home looking miserable, keeping her head low and not looking him in the eye. The noncommittal answers she gave when he asked her how her day had been. How things were going at school. When he got her report card in the mail, he saw her grades. She used to be an A's and B's student, but at some point her grades went to hell. Missing homework assignments and poor test results. Some days Danny caught her washing her clothes, which had stains on them. She even bought a new backpack, even though the one she had been using since the start of the school year was brand new. It had apparently been torn up and splattered with something.

But never once did he think to ask what happened. He was still in grief about what happened with Annette. Some days he thought she had come home, seeing her image right next to Taylor every time she walked through the front door. He was so wrapped up in his problems that he didn't notice what was happening to Taylor—to his daughter.

And now here she was, lying on a hospital bed, in a medically-induced coma of all things.

All because he didn't do anything.

"…what am I going to do?"

Murphy looked at Danny before he sighed. "I don't know. I can't tell you what to do. But, you want my advice?" He looked up at Murphy almost pleadingly. "Get her out of Winslow. Transfer her to another school or something."

"How? I-I can't hire a private tutor for her, I don't even have enough money to send her to Immaculata, Clarendon is barely better than Winslow, and Arcadia's…"

"The alternative's are better than that shithole, Danny." Murphy shook his head and went towards the door. "Look, I'll try and see if I can convince my Sergeant to open a case about Taylor, but I can't make any promises, Danny."

"…thanks, Murphy. I owe you one."

Murphy scoffed. "In that case, buy me a beer next time. I hear a new place opened up downtown. Called the Gates of Hell. You should give it a shot."

Danny stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. He had never touched alcohol before, having seen what it did to parents and people. Yet when he looked back at Taylor's unconscious body, a reminder of his failures, the taste was suddenly very tempting…

The Gates of Hell was a lot fancier than he expected. If anything, it looked more like a ritzy dance club than a bar. Jazz music played softly over the roaring cheers and talks of the patrons already drinking the night away. Some were wearing gang colors. On one end of the bar was a group of ABB kids, but they were more concerned about seeing who could get more shitfaced than picking a fight with the E88 goons sitting not far away from them.

That surprised Danny, seeing as how the owner of the establishment was a black man. Bald, built like a wrestler and tattoos over his face. For some reason he was wearing black sunglasses while it was clearly nighttime and while indoors.

"Welcome to the Gates of Hell, brother," the owner greeted Danny as he walked up to the counter. "What'll you have?"

"Something light, please." Danny didn't know what his alcohol tolerance was like, so immediately asking for something strong like whiskey was a bad idea in his head.

The owner nodded and put a shot glass down in front of him, followed by a bottle. The cap was more or less ripped off than screwed off. Danny watched as the owner filled up the glass. The liquid inside the shot glass smelled rancid, and at the same time, sweet.

"First time's on the house. After this, you gotta pay."

Danny nodded and thanked the bar owner before he took the shot glass in his hand and poured it down his throat. He immediately regretted that decision as he swallowed the bile down, coughing haphazardly while his throat burned.

The owner looked amused. "First time drinking alcohol?"

"Y-yeah!" Tears stung in Danny's eyes. Christ, and people drank stuff like this like it was going out of style? Perhaps it was a good thing he chose not to get into that lifestyle. "God, it hurts…"

"It'll get better. Just drink in moderation, man. I get enough drunks as is, especially with these posers in my shop."

The owner walked away from Danny to work on another customer. The grieving father stared back at the bottle and empty shot glass in front of him. A moment later, he filled it again.

Some time later, after having taken three shots and coughing up a lung, Danny felt someone approaching him from behind. He looked over his shoulder and blinked.

"Alan? Alan Barnes, is that you?"

The last time Danny had seen Alan was during Annette's funeral. If he had seen the man anytime since, he couldn't recall the encounter, being in his bad headspace. He could remember how thin Alan had been; not as thin as he was, but still lacking any sort of fat on his body. At some point, Alan must have let himself go because the man in front of Danny barely looked like a well-respected lawyer.

His chin was covered in fuzz, a salt-and-pepper-styled beard with dark rings under his eyes. His hair had grown out, slightly messy but kempt enough to look presentable. He was also sporting a large belly, not too large but noticeable enough that it was hanging over his belt.

"Danny?" Alan blinked and stared at Danny for a moment before a smile broke over his face. "Holy shit! It's been ages. How have you been? Last time we met was…"

"Annette's funeral, yeah," Danny nodded. "I've…I'm going through some shit. I needed a fucking drink for the first time in my life, and I'm regretting immensely. And what about you? You look…" He trailed off, not entirely what to say to Alan out of fear it would come off as rude or condescending.

For his part, Alan wasn't the least bit insulted. "Like shit? Trouble in paradise, same as every other couple I deal with. Zoe and I have been arguing lately. About Emma."

"Emma? What happened?"

"We, er, had an incident while back. Emma got jumped by a couple of ABB thugs." Danny stared at his old friend in horror. Before he could assume the worst, Alan held up a hand. "She's fine! She got a few cuts and bruises, but she's fine. She got saved by Shadow Stalker."

Danny furrowed his brow. "Shadow Stalker? Isn't she that new Ward? The one that went on the vigilante bent?"

"You mean the crazy-ass one? Yeah, that'd be her." Alan sighed. At some point without Danny noticing, he had paid the bar owner and gotten himself a glass and a bottle. The smell coming from Alan's shot glass was acrid, much stronger than the weak stuff he was drinking. "I'm grateful for what she did, saving my kid and all, but ever since, Emma's been acting…weird."

"Weird how?"

"Last time I tried asking her about when she and Taylor were going to have a sleep-over like they did in middle school, she flipped out. I've never seen her act like that before." He shook his head. "It's the weirdest thing. Now that I think about it, she's been acting weird ever since she started going to Winslow."

"It is a shitty school."

Alan paused, then snorted. "Touché. Speaking of Taylor, how is she?" Danny went quiet. Alan looked at his old friend in concern. "Danny?"

"…Taylor's in the hospital." The lawyer choked and stared. Danny glared at the glass in his hand—at his own disgusting reflection. "She was trapped inside her own locker full of stuff from the waste bin in the girls' bathroom. She was in there for a day. A full goddamn day. And not a single person did a fucking thing to get her out."

Alan opened and closed his mouth, unintelligible noises falling out from his throat. The man looked as if he was in total disbelief, skin pale in horror. That had been his reaction too. Shaking his head, Danny downed the glass and coughed, the booze scorching his throat. Was it just his imagination, or was the room getting warmer? He felt like his own tie was suffocating him.

"…what are you going to do?" Alan asked him quietly.

Danny slammed the glass down on the table.

"I want someone to pay."

Jan. 5th , 2011
Whatever anger and frustration Danny had felt yesterday paled in comparison to the white-hot fury that ripped from his throat and manifested as an unholy scream.

"Well," Alan said glumly. "That could have gone better."

The two had left Amanda Blackwell's office, one stomping down the halls and the other following behind him. Danny had asked—no, begged him to help him out and find a way to deal with this. The two talked over drinks (which Danny regretted the morning after when he found himself lying face-down on the floor of his own living room with a pool of dried-up vomit not two feet away from him) and came up with the idea to get answers from Blackwell herself. She was in charge of the school and was the highest authority in Winslow, the teachers answered to her, so she had to know something.

The "meeting" did not go well. Blackwell had denied any and all attempts at questioning, claiming she knew nothing about the bullying. She even had the gall to try and play the sympathetic card, offering to pay Taylor's medical expenses.

Danny knew what it was the moment she pitched the deal. Hush money. She knew something and didn't want it getting out. He wasn't sure what made him angrier: The fact that Blackwell knew who may or may not have been the ones to shove Taylor into the locker or that she was trying to keep him quiet. At the very least, he did the first sensible thing a parent could do in a long while and tell Blackwell that Taylor was not going to be attending Winslow anymore. He didn't care if he had to make loans or put himself in debt; one way or another, Taylor was getting out of this god-forsaken hellhole of a school.

"We can build a case," Alan told him. Danny stopped and turned to look at him. "I know it's not the perfect solution, but we can try and file a lawsuit against Winslow and Blackwell."

"How?" Danny demanded. "Dammit Alan, you're the lawyer here. You know how many parents and people tried to do that against this place! Almost every single one of them suddenly went dead when some dumbass decided it would be a good idea to continue funding it!"

"True, but that was because of gang violence. This is different, Danny. A girl was shoved in a locker filled with all sorts of disgusting filth and is sitting in a coma. More importantly, it was at the hands of fellow students, and it happened here at school, where the teachers are supposed to be keeping an eye out of crap like this."

Alan raised a good point. The lawsuits against the school were always about the gang violence, either because a student was affiliated with a gang or because gang fighting spilled out and got far too close to Winslow. Some shootings even occurred on school grounds when a bunch of dumb kids who thought they were hardcore gangbangers opened fire on each other. With how often incidents like that kept happening, it was a wonder why Winslow hadn't been shut down by this point. There were so many people suing the school that, by all rights, Blackwell should have had her neck buried in legal actions.

And yet, somehow, all of those lawsuits turned mute. Winslow continued to function, kids went to the school and every day parents worried whether or not something would happen and would never see their child again.

Danny knew that Alan's idea had merit, but who was to say that this case would stick? What guarantees did he have that this wouldn't also fall as suddenly as it stood?

"Mr. Barnes?"

A teacher stepped out from his office. At least Danny assumed he was. He looked young, early to mid twenties, short and wore a pinstripe suit with a red tie and dress shirt.

"Samuel," Alan greeted. "Been a while."

'Samuel' smiled slightly. "Last we spoke was during the teacher-parent meeting back, what, four months ago?"

Danny winced at the mention of the meeting. He had been absent that day, both because Taylor never said anything about it (or maybe she had and he was half-assed paying attention) and even if he did know about it, his work kept him from going. An incident at the docks involving one of his workers getting himself hurt by way of a welder wouldn't let him leave even if could.

"It was." Alan gestured to Danny. "Danny, this is Samuel Gladly. Sam, this is Danny Hebert. You might know him as the stubborn bastard from the Dock Worker's Union."

"Hebert?" Gladly's eyes widened slightly. "By any chance, would you happen to be-"

"Taylor's father?" Danny replied icily. His words were more bitter than he intended them to be, but it made Gladly squirm when he realized what he was dealing this. "The girl that's sitting at Brockton Bay General Hospital in a coma? Yes, I am."

"I-I see…"

Danny was almost tempted to walk up to Gladly and demand answers. Beat them out of him if he had to. This was one of the people who let his students get away with bullying Taylor and left her to die. If Blackwell wouldn't give him what he wanted, he could settle for the next best thing.

He took a step forward, almost menacingly. As though sensing his intention, Alan grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. That's too far, his eyes seemed to convey.

"Mr. Hebert," Gladly spoke again, this time in a more meek fashion. He glanced around the halls as if wondering if someone was watching them or eavesdropping before he sighed. "Might we speak in private?"

Danny glowered at the man. "About what, exactly?"

"About your daughter."

The lawyer and dock worker shared a look before they followed Gladly into his office. As soon as they were all inside, Gladly locked the door behind him and pulled on a cord, folding the blinders shut. Before Danny could even attempt to demand answers from the man, Gladly walked over to his desk and kneeled down, pulling out a cardboard box from underneath and set it down atop the table.

He peered inside and found several folders, each labeled with dates and names. Over half were labeled "Taylor Hebert."

Alan looked at Gladly. "What is this?"

"This," the teacher gestured to the box. "Is a list of complaints and notifications from Taylor about her bullying, all the way back to January of last year. Mrs. Knott and myself compiled them ourselves."

Danny went deathly still. Had he heard that correctly?

Alan, on the other hand, looked furious. "Last year? You mean to tell me that Taylor's been bulled since she started schooling here?!"

His hands grabbed a random folder from the box. Neither Gladly or Alan seemed to notice, too engrossed in their conversation. He opened up the folder and saw a crumpled paper inside. The handwriting was Taylor's. She had beautiful penmanship, just like Annette, but the writing on the paper was sloppy. He saw a few stains (tears?) scattered around the paper.

"Why the hell didn't you do anything?!" Alan demanded angrily. "You had to have noticed something!"

"I did!" Gladly hissed. "I asked Taylor if she needed help, and she told me she didn't! I thought it was hazing! Kids bully each other all the time!"

"You call being shoved and trapped inside a locker full of shit hazing?! She could have died!" The man's cheeks were red with anger. "If you know who did this, then fess up!"

"You don't have to." Alan looked at Danny. His tone, so full of anger, had become deathly quiet and calm. His eyes, on the other hand, were smoldering and his hands were shaking. "Taylor named them."

Wordlessly, he handed the paper over to Alan. The man looked it over, reading every word, then stopped. His eyes went wide. Shock ran all across his face, spluttering in disbelief.

As they looked through more of the complaints Taylor made, Alan's face lost more and more color until he turned completely white.

In each and every paper she wrote regarding the bullying, begging and pleading for the faculty to do something, two names were always mentioned. Danny had no idea who Sophia Hess was, but he recognized the other name easily enough.

It would be hard not to, considering she was Alan's daughter and Taylor's best friend.

Emma Barnes.

Alan and Danny separated after their business with Winslow concluded. His friend had gone deathly quiet, never once saying a word and looking as if he was getting older by the second. At first he had been in disbelief, saying that it couldn't have been Emma. Danny agreed with him. Taylor and Emma had been as thick as thieves growing up. They hit it off almost immediately when they met at the playground, and on more than one occasion when Emma slept at the Hebert household, he had caught the two invading the kitchen in an Ice Cream Raid, aided by his traitorous wife.

The complaints Taylor made to the teachers spoke of a completely different Emma Barnes. Whereas the Emma Danny recalled was the boldest little thing but at the same time shy as a mouse, the Emma Taylor spoke of was cold and callous. One complaint in particular stuck out in his mind, where Emma had apparently taken Taylor's flute, defaced it and smashed it to pieces. Taylor didn't own a flute, but her mother did. One time, Taylor had shown it to Emma and the girl held it with a sense of appreciation and gentleness.

Between Danny and Alan, the former wasn't sure who was shocked more by the development. Either way, he found himself once again at the Gates of Hell, drinking and burning his throat and attempting to get shit-faced. He idly wondered if it meant he would wake up in a pool of his own vomit this time around.

He still couldn't believe that this had been going on for a year. A whole year of bullying, and she never said a word to him. She endured a year of hell, done at the hands of her own best friend and someone else, and she didn't tell him anything. A part of Danny felt angry towards Taylor, but not out of malice. He was angry at her for not telling him about the bullying. He could have put a stop to all of this, gotten her away from that fucking school sooner, so why didn't she tell him?!

Another part of him, the one that looked back at him in disgust every time he saw his reflection, told him why. The school hadn't done anything to help her. Why would he? He didn't notice the small tell-tale signs or the times she did try to tell him something, but didn't. She couldn't trust him because he couldn't pull his head out of his ass sooner.

That hurt worse than the day Annette died.

Danny took a long swig of alcohol straight from the bottle instead from the shot glass. The bar owner whistled. "Damn. Rough day, brother?"

"Try a fucking shitshow of epic fucking proportions," Danny growled. There was a slight slur in his speech, telling him that he was either already drunk or he was close to getting there. "Ever had one of those days where you felt like stringing some bastard up, even when the bastard might be you?"

"Can't say that I have. That bad?"

"Yeah. That bad."

Danny took another drink. The burn was slowly ebbing away and his head began to throb in pain. He felt a small vibration in his pants pocket. In spite of his personal feelings about owning a cell phone, Danny bought one for work purposes in case someone at the docks requested his help. He removed his cell from his pants pocket and looked at the caller ID, lips curling in distaste.

Alan was the last person he wanted to hear from right now.

He answered the call and pressed the cell up to his ear. "Whatever it is you want to say, I-"

"Someone recorded it."

Danny's brain went dead. "…excuse me?"

"I went back to Winslow and grilled one of the teachers," Alan growled. "Some asshole by the name of Quinlan saw the whole thing but didn't say a thing about it. She sang like a jailbird soon as I mentioned the lawsuit, said a couple kids recorded the whole fucking thing on their cellphones. One of them is a kid named Greg Veder. I just got done talking to him. I've got a copy of the video."

His mouth went dry. "And…?"

"…it's a whole lot worse than hearing about it. That's all I can say." There was a mixture of grief and anger in Alan's voice. "I knew something about Emma changed. I just thought it was nothing since she didn't act out or anything. I told Zoe that she didn't need therapy. I-" The poor man choked. "God fucking dammit, how could I not notice?"

Danny looked at the bottle in his hand. His reflection stared back at him expectant.

"…same reason I didn't notice anything, Alan. We're both horrible parents." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, setting the money for his drink on the counter and walking out the door. "What now?"

"Now?" Alan scoffed. "Now, Blackwell is going to regret her life choices. Taylor's complaints, plus video evidence?"

"Alan-"

"I know, okay?!" Alan barked. "I know this whole thing involves my daughter. It's going to be a conflict of interest. That's why I'm handing this off to a friend of mine."

"Who?"

"Ever heard of Carol Dallon?"

Danny's eyebrows went up. "The parahuman lawyer? The one that handed the Bad Canary case a while back? Isn't this a little out of her field of expertise?"

"No, she specializes in dealing with parahumans. Doesn't mean she can't deal with a school. I'll get in touch with her tomorrow and let you know what happens."

The call ended there. Danny stared at his phone, blinking and wondering what the hell just happened. When Alan called him, he was expecting him to suddenly cut off all ties with him and try to defend Emma. Make it so this whole thing disappeared under the rug. It's what he would have done if he found out Taylor was involved in all this. Sure, he'd be disappointed in her, but she was his daughter. He'd give the whole world if it meant she could be safe.

If Alan was serious about going through with this, Emma was likely to face charges. She'd be lucky if she ended up on probation instead of Juvenile Hall. So why was he…?

I suppose I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, should I?

Danny shook his head and sighed, running his fingers across his scalp.

This was turning out to be a shitty week.

Jan. 13th , 2011
Taylor hadn't changed.

The doctors told her that her condition was stable, but there were still no signs of when or if she woke up. Danny thought it was optimistic of him to think she would be awake by now, but he hoped that she'd be sitting there, eyes open and her eyes the first thing he'd see when he walked into the room she was in.

Instead, he saw what he swore was Annette, only younger. Every passing day, it seemed as if Taylor was looking more and more like her mother.

"Hey, kiddo."

Taylor said nothing.

Danny sat on the chair next to her bed. "Sorry I haven't been around to visit lately. I've…been very busy lately. I've been thinking about a lot of stuff. And dealing with a lot of stuff."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"So, um… I've got some good news for you. I know this might not mean much to you, but I… You won't have to attend Winslow anymore. I've pulled you out. Alan's helping me out with paperwork for Arcadia when you wake up."

'When.' It was funny how he was holding onto such lofty hopes. But it was all he had left, really.

She was all he had left.

"I can't promise it'll be better than Winslow. I've met a few of the teachers, they seem nice enough I guess?" Danny looked at Taylor for a minute before groaning. "I suck at this, don't I? I really did pick the worst time to start acting like a dad, huh?"

If Annette was still here, she would never have let this happen. Hell, she would have kicked his ass if it did.

"I wish you were here…" Danny murmured sadly. "You would have known what to do."

He gently brushed his finger against Taylor's cheek. Her skin was getting color back, so that was a good sign. Looking more closely, Danny realized how much his daughter was starting to look like his late wife. Give her a few more years, and she'd be-

"What the hell?"

Danny stared in confusion, his fingers pinching a small bundle of hairs.

When did Taylor dye white streaks in her hair?

On a side note, if you are interested in supporting me in any way, please consider buying my book "Chase Ryder and the City of Lost Memories" on Amazon. It is available for kindle, hardback, and paperback for 8.99, 26.99, and 12.99 respectively. Not to be confused with Jo Ho's Chase Ryder: A Heartwarming Thriller for Dog Lovers book series.