AN: now the story is getting more difficult to write. I know what I want
to happen but am having a hard time putting it all into words. So please
tell me if what I've written is at all confusing, so I can try to clarify.
Special thanks to Lori and Bev for being sounding boards and putting up
with me rambling about the story!
Richie sat at the counter watching Tessa carefully as she chopped carrots for the stew she was making.
"I can do that if you want me to," he offered.
"That's okay, Richie, I'm fine. But thank you for the consideration."
"Are you mad?" he asked.
"I'm frustrated."
"With me?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Because I can't do anything right anymore. I keep screwing up."
"What do you mean?"
"I never say the right thing; I never do the right thing. I can't remember at the right time."
Tessa put down the knife and looked the boy squarely in the eye. "Richie?"
"Yeah?"
Tears swam to her eyes again. It had been three days since Richie had started 'coming out', but this was the first time she had spoke to him. Periodically throughout the day, there was a notable change in his demeanor and personality. He went from quiet and soft-spoken, to bold and talkative and back in a matter of minutes at random intervals.
"It's good to have you back."
"Richie!" Duncan called from the living room. "Can you come in here, please?"
Something changed in the boy's eyes as he answered. "I'm coming, sir!"
Tessa watched as Richie disappeared into the living room. It was awkward to be around the man-child. He still looked 18 when she knew he was nearly thirty. His behavior was like that of an unsure pre-teen; a near adult one minute and a shy child the next. Sometimes he would boldly start a conversation and sometimes he would be hard pressed to make eye contact when spoken to. Sometimes he would dress himself in the mornings and sometimes he'd appear naked and leave his clothes in the middle of the floor in the living room. Tessa herself couldn't decide on how to behave around him. One minute she wanted to take advantage of his new cuddlesome nature and hug him and make sure he felt welcome, and the next she wanted to scream, cry and curse the man who created this strange child out of the young man that she used to know.
"No, Richie!" The harsh order brought Tessa out of her musings. She put down her knife and carrot and went to see what had happened. She found Richie crouched on the floor mumbling apologies and Duncan kneeling next to him trying to calm him down.
"I didn't mean to yell at you, Richie," he assured him sitting him up. "But you have to remember that you can't play with us, it's not appropriate."
"But I love you," Richie pleaded with him.
"I love you, too."
"Then why won't you play with me?"
Duncan took Richie by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Richie, I want you to listen to me," he said a little louder than usual. "I know you don't want to have sex with me. I know you don't want to do this. I know you can control yourself. You have to keep trying."
"Why won't you play with me?" he repeated more forcibly.
"Because that's not what friends do."
"But you're my master."
"I am not your master."
"Then who is?"
"You are your own master. You decide what you want to do, no one else."
"Every child has a master," he insisted.
"No. No one has a master."
"Then who will take care of me?"
"We will, until you learn to take care of yourself."
Richie turned to Tessa, his eyes totally confused. Whether it was from his own inner battle or the conversation, she didn't know.
"Richie, will you help me set the table?" Tessa asked holding her hand out to him.
With a deep, put out sigh, he took her hand and followed. Richie set the table and knelt behind Duncan's chair. He had been there a few minutes before Tessa noticed where he had gone.
"Now, what are you doing down there?" she asked with a smile and a laugh, as if he were a small child she was playing with.
"I am waiting for my master," he told her, puffing out his chest defiantly.
"Your master?" she repeated. "You don't need to do that."
"I must serve my master."
"No, you must get up off the floor."
"I am waiting to serve my master his meal."
"Sean!" she called into the hallway toward his room.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I don't know what's wrong with him. He won't get up."
Sean walked over to Richie and squatted in front of him. "Richie, can you hear me?" The boy looked directly at him, but didn't respond. "Richie, it's time to get ready for dinner."
"I am ready to serve my master."
"Richie, we've talked about this. You're not with Master anymore. You're home."
"Every child has a master."
"You're not a child."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not. You're an adult now."
"No," he insisted.
"Richie, you're losing control. I need you to fi." His words were cut off as Richie threw himself at him and kissed him deeply.
"Richie!" Tessa shouted pulling the boy off. He fought her grip, reaching for Sean, trying to kiss him again. "Richie, stop!"
"Richie!" Duncan called getting in on the fray with Conner right beside him. "What are you doing?" It took both Duncan and Conner to hold Richie somewhat still.
"Let me go!" Richie screamed trying to break free.
"Get him to his room," Sean ordered. "I'll be there in a minute."
Duncan and Conner pulled Richie down the hall and Tessa had to grab his feet to keep him from kicking anyone. All three were pinning the boy to the bed when Sean came in with a syringe full of a strong sedative.
"Let me go!" Richie screamed, still fighting. "Master! Master, help me! Please! Don't let them do this to me!"
"Richie, it's okay," Sean told him calmly over his shouts. "Everything will be fine. This will just make you relax." He held onto Richie's arm just below the elbow and administered the shot.
"No! Help! Help! Master, help! Let me go! Make them let me go! Mac, please!"
At the sound of his name, Duncan released his grip on the boy's shoulders and pulled him up for a hug. "I'm right here, Rich," he assured him. "I'm right here. Everything is okay; you're safe now, you're okay."
"Mac," Richie whispered wrapping his arms around the immortal's waist. "Mac, don't let them take me, please."
"Nobody's taking you anywhere."
"I don't want to go. Don't let them."
"I'm not going to let anyone take you anywhere, I promise."
Richie's grip steadily loosened until he fell back onto his pillows, fast asleep.
"What happened to him?" Tessa demanded. "He was doing so well."
Sean shook his head. "I knew he may get worse, but I never anticipated such an out burst."
"What's wrong with him?" Duncan repeated the question.
"Take the boy's head," Conner interrupted. "He's clearly delusional. And he's scared, Duncan. Just put the boy out of his misery."
"I've already told you, Conner. I won't kill him and I won't let you."
"We should be able to save him from that," Sean agreed. "The personalities are just so strong."
"Richie is not schizophrenic!" Tessa shouted.
"To a degree he is," Sean told her. "He has two personalities. And they're fighting for control right now."
"There's medicine for that."
"For a chemical imbalance that causes it. This is strictly psychological; no medicine can fix it."
"But you can fix it?"
"I can help him fix it; he has to do it."
. . . . . .
Tessa had refused to leave Richie alone in case he woke up. She wanted someone to be there for him if he needed anything. At three in the morning, he started to stir and mumble in his sleep. She listened from her seat in a chair by his bed. It was obvious he was having some sort of flashback/nightmare.
"I'll be good," he pleaded quietly. "Don't, sir, please. I'm a good boy, I'll be good; I'm a good boy!"
"Richie," she said quietly. "Can you hear me?"
"I'm a good boy."
"Richie, wake up; you're having a bad dream."
"I'm a good boy!"
"Richie, please, wake up. It's Tessa, Richie. I'm here."
"Don't, Master, please! Please!"
"Richie, it's time to wake up," she reached over and shook his shoulder gently.
"Mamma!" he screamed and bolted upright in the bed. Tessa jumped back. He turned to look at her. "Master will be mad," he told her calmly.
"Richie, it's Tessa," she told him quietly. "Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
"I'm a good boy." He pushed the blankets off him.
"Richie, talk to me."
"I don't make my master angry."
"Duncan!" Tessa called as Richie advanced on her.
"My master likes for me to play with the guests. And I like to make my master happy." With surprising strength he grabbed her shoulders.
"Richie!" Duncan barked from the doorway.
"I'm a good boy," he said not looking away from Tessa. "I'm a good boy." He leaned in and kissed her deeply.
She squealed and pushed on him, but he stood his ground. Duncan crossed the room in two steps and pulled him off of her. In reflex, Tessa slapped Richie hard across the face. He looked at her stunned for a minute.
"Tess?"
"Richie, I'm sorry," she hugged him tightly. "I didn't mean it."
"I'm a good boy," he said softly.
"Yes, you are."
"I'm a good boy," he repeated as a mantra. Conner and Sean watched from the doorway, having been woken by the commotion. "I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm.. I'm a good boy. I'm a good. I'm a." He looked up at her as he fumbled over his words. "I'm a." his voice caught and his lip quivered. "I'm a whore!" His head fell onto her shoulder and he began to cry.
Richie sat at the counter watching Tessa carefully as she chopped carrots for the stew she was making.
"I can do that if you want me to," he offered.
"That's okay, Richie, I'm fine. But thank you for the consideration."
"Are you mad?" he asked.
"I'm frustrated."
"With me?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Because I can't do anything right anymore. I keep screwing up."
"What do you mean?"
"I never say the right thing; I never do the right thing. I can't remember at the right time."
Tessa put down the knife and looked the boy squarely in the eye. "Richie?"
"Yeah?"
Tears swam to her eyes again. It had been three days since Richie had started 'coming out', but this was the first time she had spoke to him. Periodically throughout the day, there was a notable change in his demeanor and personality. He went from quiet and soft-spoken, to bold and talkative and back in a matter of minutes at random intervals.
"It's good to have you back."
"Richie!" Duncan called from the living room. "Can you come in here, please?"
Something changed in the boy's eyes as he answered. "I'm coming, sir!"
Tessa watched as Richie disappeared into the living room. It was awkward to be around the man-child. He still looked 18 when she knew he was nearly thirty. His behavior was like that of an unsure pre-teen; a near adult one minute and a shy child the next. Sometimes he would boldly start a conversation and sometimes he would be hard pressed to make eye contact when spoken to. Sometimes he would dress himself in the mornings and sometimes he'd appear naked and leave his clothes in the middle of the floor in the living room. Tessa herself couldn't decide on how to behave around him. One minute she wanted to take advantage of his new cuddlesome nature and hug him and make sure he felt welcome, and the next she wanted to scream, cry and curse the man who created this strange child out of the young man that she used to know.
"No, Richie!" The harsh order brought Tessa out of her musings. She put down her knife and carrot and went to see what had happened. She found Richie crouched on the floor mumbling apologies and Duncan kneeling next to him trying to calm him down.
"I didn't mean to yell at you, Richie," he assured him sitting him up. "But you have to remember that you can't play with us, it's not appropriate."
"But I love you," Richie pleaded with him.
"I love you, too."
"Then why won't you play with me?"
Duncan took Richie by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Richie, I want you to listen to me," he said a little louder than usual. "I know you don't want to have sex with me. I know you don't want to do this. I know you can control yourself. You have to keep trying."
"Why won't you play with me?" he repeated more forcibly.
"Because that's not what friends do."
"But you're my master."
"I am not your master."
"Then who is?"
"You are your own master. You decide what you want to do, no one else."
"Every child has a master," he insisted.
"No. No one has a master."
"Then who will take care of me?"
"We will, until you learn to take care of yourself."
Richie turned to Tessa, his eyes totally confused. Whether it was from his own inner battle or the conversation, she didn't know.
"Richie, will you help me set the table?" Tessa asked holding her hand out to him.
With a deep, put out sigh, he took her hand and followed. Richie set the table and knelt behind Duncan's chair. He had been there a few minutes before Tessa noticed where he had gone.
"Now, what are you doing down there?" she asked with a smile and a laugh, as if he were a small child she was playing with.
"I am waiting for my master," he told her, puffing out his chest defiantly.
"Your master?" she repeated. "You don't need to do that."
"I must serve my master."
"No, you must get up off the floor."
"I am waiting to serve my master his meal."
"Sean!" she called into the hallway toward his room.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I don't know what's wrong with him. He won't get up."
Sean walked over to Richie and squatted in front of him. "Richie, can you hear me?" The boy looked directly at him, but didn't respond. "Richie, it's time to get ready for dinner."
"I am ready to serve my master."
"Richie, we've talked about this. You're not with Master anymore. You're home."
"Every child has a master."
"You're not a child."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not. You're an adult now."
"No," he insisted.
"Richie, you're losing control. I need you to fi." His words were cut off as Richie threw himself at him and kissed him deeply.
"Richie!" Tessa shouted pulling the boy off. He fought her grip, reaching for Sean, trying to kiss him again. "Richie, stop!"
"Richie!" Duncan called getting in on the fray with Conner right beside him. "What are you doing?" It took both Duncan and Conner to hold Richie somewhat still.
"Let me go!" Richie screamed trying to break free.
"Get him to his room," Sean ordered. "I'll be there in a minute."
Duncan and Conner pulled Richie down the hall and Tessa had to grab his feet to keep him from kicking anyone. All three were pinning the boy to the bed when Sean came in with a syringe full of a strong sedative.
"Let me go!" Richie screamed, still fighting. "Master! Master, help me! Please! Don't let them do this to me!"
"Richie, it's okay," Sean told him calmly over his shouts. "Everything will be fine. This will just make you relax." He held onto Richie's arm just below the elbow and administered the shot.
"No! Help! Help! Master, help! Let me go! Make them let me go! Mac, please!"
At the sound of his name, Duncan released his grip on the boy's shoulders and pulled him up for a hug. "I'm right here, Rich," he assured him. "I'm right here. Everything is okay; you're safe now, you're okay."
"Mac," Richie whispered wrapping his arms around the immortal's waist. "Mac, don't let them take me, please."
"Nobody's taking you anywhere."
"I don't want to go. Don't let them."
"I'm not going to let anyone take you anywhere, I promise."
Richie's grip steadily loosened until he fell back onto his pillows, fast asleep.
"What happened to him?" Tessa demanded. "He was doing so well."
Sean shook his head. "I knew he may get worse, but I never anticipated such an out burst."
"What's wrong with him?" Duncan repeated the question.
"Take the boy's head," Conner interrupted. "He's clearly delusional. And he's scared, Duncan. Just put the boy out of his misery."
"I've already told you, Conner. I won't kill him and I won't let you."
"We should be able to save him from that," Sean agreed. "The personalities are just so strong."
"Richie is not schizophrenic!" Tessa shouted.
"To a degree he is," Sean told her. "He has two personalities. And they're fighting for control right now."
"There's medicine for that."
"For a chemical imbalance that causes it. This is strictly psychological; no medicine can fix it."
"But you can fix it?"
"I can help him fix it; he has to do it."
. . . . . .
Tessa had refused to leave Richie alone in case he woke up. She wanted someone to be there for him if he needed anything. At three in the morning, he started to stir and mumble in his sleep. She listened from her seat in a chair by his bed. It was obvious he was having some sort of flashback/nightmare.
"I'll be good," he pleaded quietly. "Don't, sir, please. I'm a good boy, I'll be good; I'm a good boy!"
"Richie," she said quietly. "Can you hear me?"
"I'm a good boy."
"Richie, wake up; you're having a bad dream."
"I'm a good boy!"
"Richie, please, wake up. It's Tessa, Richie. I'm here."
"Don't, Master, please! Please!"
"Richie, it's time to wake up," she reached over and shook his shoulder gently.
"Mamma!" he screamed and bolted upright in the bed. Tessa jumped back. He turned to look at her. "Master will be mad," he told her calmly.
"Richie, it's Tessa," she told him quietly. "Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
"I'm a good boy." He pushed the blankets off him.
"Richie, talk to me."
"I don't make my master angry."
"Duncan!" Tessa called as Richie advanced on her.
"My master likes for me to play with the guests. And I like to make my master happy." With surprising strength he grabbed her shoulders.
"Richie!" Duncan barked from the doorway.
"I'm a good boy," he said not looking away from Tessa. "I'm a good boy." He leaned in and kissed her deeply.
She squealed and pushed on him, but he stood his ground. Duncan crossed the room in two steps and pulled him off of her. In reflex, Tessa slapped Richie hard across the face. He looked at her stunned for a minute.
"Tess?"
"Richie, I'm sorry," she hugged him tightly. "I didn't mean it."
"I'm a good boy," he said softly.
"Yes, you are."
"I'm a good boy," he repeated as a mantra. Conner and Sean watched from the doorway, having been woken by the commotion. "I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm a good boy. I'm.. I'm a good boy. I'm a good. I'm a." He looked up at her as he fumbled over his words. "I'm a." his voice caught and his lip quivered. "I'm a whore!" His head fell onto her shoulder and he began to cry.