Ok, this is the third to last chapter. Enjoy please, and I own nothing but the story. I own no characters! Enjoy, and I just realized I already said that. Ahem.
He woke up in the middle of the night, sweat on his face. He put a hand to his mouth to stifle a scream. The last thing he wanted was Kirsten awake so she could dispense some more "helpful" medicine. He got into the wheelchair and went over to the bathroom. He purified his system once again, feeling surprisingly better when he was done. He got a drink of water before getting back into the wheelchair. He lay in bed. Kirsten walked in a little later to check up on him. She thought he looked a little pale, and his deep sleep worried her. She thought about waking him, but then thought about how embarrassed Ryan would be. He had been fine with her babying him for the first couple of days of his recovery, but she figured it was mostly because he knew he needed her help. Now, he pushed her away slightly when she tried to help him up, trying as hard as he could not to hurt her feelings.
She felt guilty for leaving him alone. She slapped her head with her hand quietly, thinking of how un-motherly she had been, leaving him alone so soon after his recovery had started. She wiped a solitary tear away from her face and knelt down beside him. She kissed him on the forehead and took his hand in hers. It felt so cold, as though he were some strange reptile and not a human being. "Lord..." she prayed silently. "Please help Ryan get better..." she was in tears by the end of the prayer, Ryan's hand entwined in hers. She felt strangely comforted by his sleeping figure. He was so different from Seth. Seth was loud, funny, obnoxious sometimes, but funny. He was an incredibly deep sleeper, so she never worried about him. But Ryan, he'd wake up at the drop of a hat, as though he was expecting someone to attack him, or hurt him in some way. Any noise that was made would send him jumping into the air, his eyes wide with terror.
As she thought about her completely different sons, she saw Ryan move slightly. She moved closer to him, making sure she was in his eyesight when he opened his eyes. She moved his head towards her with her free hand. He started coughing violently, causing Kirsten to jump . "Sweetie?" she asked, and her voice cracked from the tears that she'd shed moments before. Ryan's breathing steadied, and he looked from left to right, his eyes suddenly focusing on Kirsten. "What's wrong?" he asked hoarsely. Kirsten shook her head. "Nothing, sweetie, I just came to check on you, and you started coughing. I was really worried." Ryan half smiled, his usual signal to show that even though he wasn't ok, he would make damn sure they thought he was. "Maybe...maybe you should take two more pills." said Kirsten, trying to get him to say yes. He had something against the pills, but she thought he was just being stubborn.
"No, no." his eyes watered slightly. "Please, Mrs. Cohen...please don't make me take the pills." Kirsten tried to smile. "Now you're back to 'Mrs. Kirsten'? So 'mom' was only while you were delusional and seeing four of me?" Ryan attempted another half smile, but thought better of it and gave her a real smile. "Sorry, I just...Please don't make me take those things." he pleaded, pointing to the desk with the container. "If you really don't want to, you don't have to, but..." she smiled. "If you're not gonna call me 'mom', then at least go for 'Kirsten'." Ryan blinked slowly, trying to distinguish the real world from his horrible dreams. "I'll let you sleep, ok?" he nodded even slower than he blinked, terrified that he'd go through another wave of pain. "Sorry for bothering you sweetie." she said as she opened the door. She didn't get a response from Ryan, who was so exhausted he passed out again.
He wheeled into the kitchen, the smell of bacon overpowering the house. "Ah, my friend. As you can see, I've taken over your position as official bacon maitre of the household. You know how much mom likes bacon, don't you? Course ya do, buddy, huh, huh?" Seth's banter confused him, and he moved his head slowly from side to side, closing his eyes in an attempt to portray pity. Seth laughed as Kirsten entered the room, proclaiming: "Seth, I didn't know you knew how to make bacon!" Seth tilted his head and nodded, pointing at Ryan. "I learn from the master, mother." Ryan tried not to laugh as Seth clumsily made the bacon, dropping some to the ground, recoiling as some grease some got on his arm, and squealing when he got some in his eye.
Kirsten kissed Seth on the cheek as he was leaving. He wiped his face off. "Ew, I think I got like, mom germs or something from that." Kirsten messed up his hair and he stumbled away. She closed the door, sighing. "Ryan?" she asked, leaning her head over the wall to see Ryan. He looked up at her, smiling. "You don't need to use the wheelchair, as of today." She pulled out a pair of crutches with a blue ribbon on it. Ryan breathed in as deeply as his bound ribs would allow him, smiling a genuine and truly happy smile in Kirsten's direction. He didn't care about the intense pain that followed his quick movements. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he said, his voice still hoarse. He reached out to grab the crutches, but Kirsten pulled them from his grasp. "Wait." she said, to his obvious dismay. "Promise me that you won't get ahead of yourself and try to run around, or something." He nodded gravely, reaching for the crutches once again. She skeptically handed them to him, and he mouthed another "Thank you." He tried to pull himself up, but failed and sat back down.
Kirsten was rubbing her hands together, trying to restrain herself from helping him. She knew he should do this on his own, but she couldn't help the feeling that he was silently asking for her help. She inched closer to him, making sure he didn't notice she was going to give into her motherly instinct and help him. She got close enough to say a quick: "Let me help you, sweetie." and try to help him up. He gave her a sideways glance. "I don't need help, Kirsten." He made very sure to call her Kirsten. "You do. And you need to start asking for it.". He blushed before steadying himself on Kirsten's arm. "Thanks..." he muttered, the half smile once again plastered on his face. "No problem." She smiled. "Ok, so you start your new physio today, and you have a new physiotherapist. Ms. Fields." Ryan nodded. "Take it easy, don't do too much at once, and please take the pain medications. Please?" She gave him puppy dog eyes, and he looked away. "It doesn't hurt." he whispered. She snorted. "Sure, that's why you flinch every time anyone even taps you. You're in pain, and you need those.". She pointed to the container of pills.
"I don't need those, ok?" he said, louder than before. It came out a little angrier than he had intended, and he flinched, expecting the worst. "I'm so-sorry. I don't like meds. I really, I can't deal with them. What if I get addicted?". Kirsten furrowed her eyebrows. She hadn't thought about that. "Just take them, ok? This isn't a conversation anymore. I'm telling you that you're taking them, so you are, understood?". He looked at her, sighed, and nodded. "Fine.". She walked over to where the pills were, shook two out and handed them to him, along with a cup of water. She watches him pretend to take them, palming them instead. "There." said Kirsten, proud of herself. She put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Don't worry, Ryan. I won't let anything happen to you.". She sent him off to sit down. He offered that he should probably sleep for a while, and she agreed.
He crutched his way over to his room and shut the door. He thought about flushing the pills down the toilet. But wouldn't they get suspicious if he only went to the bathroom every 6 hours? He wasn't thinking straight. The pain that surged through his body prevented him from thinking straight. He grabbed a pot with some sort of plant in it and dug a small hole. He put the two pills in it. He carefully sat down on the bed. He hated lying to the Cohens, but if he told them, he'd end up back in the hospital. He couldn't end up in the hospital again.
*** 9 years ago ***
"I don't know why you don't want to take the fucking pills, Ry. They're free, they get you high, what's the problem?" Ryan's hands shook. "I don't like them." he whispered. "Well fuck you, kid. Take the pills or I take them." said Bill. "Take 'em then!" said Ryan, regretting his tone immediately. "Little punk..." mumbled Bill, punching him in the face. "Bill, come on. He just got out of the hospital thanks to his little 'fall' down the stairs." Ryan shivered as he remembered. Bill grabbed the container of pills from Dawn and got all he could out of them. He forced Ryan's mouth open and pushed the pills in. He gave him the bottle of gin he had to swallow them. "How do you like 'em now, huh kid?" Ryan's pupils dilated almost immediately. He passed out on the couch, his body convulsing fiercely from time to time. Hallucinations clouded his dreams. Dreams of death, murder, abuse...his life.
Trey slammed the door. "Keep it quiet!" yelled Bill from his couch. He dropped his backpack on the ground, stopping when he saw Ryan on the floor. "What is he doing there?" he asked, giving Bill a sideways glance. "He fell.". Trey gave a sneer. "Yeah. The same way he 'fell' down the stairs?". Bill glared at him. "Shut up or you'll end up falling too.". Trey shrugged and turned his attention to Ryan. He tried to pick him up, but he couldn't. The boy was shaking violently in his sleep, every once in a while whimpering or letting out a small scream. Trey opened his eyes to see if he was aware of them. "What did you do to him?" he asked, his voice filled with anger. He heard Bill laugh. "He didn't want to take his pills so I made him take them.". Trey ran over to him. "You made him overdose? What the fuck is wrong with you?". Bill pushed him aside. From the ground, he pleaded with Bill. "Please take him to the hospital."
Bill finally agreed, and they went to go find Dawn, who was also passed out, but for completely different reasons. He poked her. "Come on. We gotta take your damn kid to the hospital. "Which one?" mumbled Dawn. "The little punk. Come on.". Dawn yawned and stretched, giving herself a headache. "What's wrong with him?" she asked. "Bill made him overdose." said Trey, his voice dripping with hatred. Dawn snorted. "I already knew that. How bad can it be for him?". Trey shook his head in disgust and walked out. "Bill? Help me pick him up!" said Trey from the living room. No one came, so he had to pick the boy up by himself. He put him over his shoulder, and screamed at the two parents in the bedroom. "Come on! Let's go!"
Dawn pouted and got up. Bill walked past Trey, not even stopping to help him. He got his keys and started the car. "Put the kid in." he said flatly, not having forgotten the container of pills, which he took with him. They drove at a leisurely pace, and it was clear Bill was just doing it to bother Trey. "Ryan?" he asked in the back seat, lightly slapping Ryan across the face. He didn't move. Trey slapped him again, harder. He moved a bit, but stopped a few moments later. "Ryan, please wake up." said Trey, willing him to be ok. Ryan started shaking uncontrollably as they pulled into the hospital. Trey crawled out and ran as fast as he could into the hospital. "My brother...he needs...help..." he gasped out, panting. "Ok, son. Where is he?" asked the doctor calmly. Trey wondered how she could be so calm.
Dawn got out of the car, looking very worried, but Trey glared at her. It was all an act. "I got home and he had taken almost all the pain medication pills you gave us before. I was so scared he was dead." she whimpered. Trey snorted. The doctor and his helpers got Ryan onto the gurney without any problems. "He's gonna need his stomach pumped." said the doctor, his voice "matter-of-factly". They carted him into the hospital. Dawn tried to follow, but a nurse stopped her. "I'm sorry ma'am, but you, your son, and your husband will have to stay here.". Bill, who hadn't been paying attention, caught that last part. "Hey, I ain't her husband, alright?". The nurse nodded uncomfortably. "Sorry.". Bill shrugged. "We'll keep you informed about his health." she said quietly, with a small smile. Dawn smiled back, dismissing the nurse.
Bill left after an hour, saying he didn't waste his life with some piece of shit girlfriend who's kid was in the hospital half the time. He had left them, leaving Dawn to conclude: "Guess we're taking the bus home.". The doctor came out another two hours later. "Mrs. Atwood?". Dawn had stood, her composure still calm and steady even though her son had almost died. "Your son Ryan seems to have some sort of allergy to the medications we gave him before. They cause severe hallucinations and mental deficiencies. We're very sorry that we didn't realize his intolerance to the drugs earlier. The overdose made him experience some terrible delusions. He seems to have had a seizure, but we're not sure if they will continue." Dawn cut him off. "You're a doctor and you made a fucking mistake with my kid?". The doctor was taken by surprise.
"We're very sorry, Mrs. Atwood, but mistakes happen.". Dawn wasn't going to take anymore of his crap. "Come on, Trey. We're leaving.". Trey struggled against his mother, who was pulling him towards the doors. "But what about Ryan?" asked Trey, his voice cracking. "We'll pick him up later! Now come on, you little shit!". Trey gave up, letting his mother drag him away from his brother. The doctor stared at the two, his mouth gaping open at the mistreatment of the young man. Now that he thought about it, the scratches that were fading on Ryan's arms and face resembled those of Dawn's long, acrylic nails. The bruising on his face resembled a punch to the face, and the fact that Ryan had "fallen" down the stairs and had somehow gotten scars around his neck. It all pointed to abuse. He felt terrible for the 8 year old. No child deserved that sort of treatment.
Ryan opened his eyes wide, gasping for air. He was all alone. The dark room around him made him feel even more lonely than he already was. He coughed. His stomach ached, and his head pulsed in pain. Where was he? Where was Trey, and his mother? Hell, he would even want to see Bill right now. A nurse walked in. "Hi sweetie..." she said softly. The pale boy in front of her flinched. "Where-where's my mom?" he asked. The nurse was troubled by his voice. He sounded like an adult, not like any of the eight year olds she'd met over the years, still calling their mother's "mommy" and getting called names like "pumpkin", and "sweetheart". "They had to go home, but we're gonna take care of you here." replied the nurse softly. "Does your stomach hurt? I think it's time for your medication..." she continued. Ryan shook his head. "No, no more pills...". His voice cracked. The nurse nodded. "Alright, sweetie, but you get some rest, alright?". Ryan nodded.
*** Present Day ***
Ryan woke up sweating once again, this time awoken by a real nightmare, not a drug induced one. He cried silently. Where had his mother been when he had woken up all alone in that hospital? No where to be seen. While Kirsten, Seth, and Sandy had been there for him 24/7, she had only shown up a few days later, to pull him out of the hospital without notice, so they wouldn't have to pay. He got up, getting his crutches from up against the wall. He looked at his clock. Noon. He crutched his way into the living room, where his new physiotherapist was. He stood up to greet him. "Hi, Ryan! I'm Ms. Fields.". Ryan looked down and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you..." he muttered. They spent the next few hours practicing exercises to get his leg back to normal. He walked her to the door when she was ready to leave. "Ok now Ryan. I expect you to practice those exercises regularly, and don't try too much at a time, alright?". Ryan nodded.
Kirsten gave him an excited smile. "See? Wasn't that easier with the pills?". Ryan nodded. "Yeah." he lied. "Oh! Which reminds me. Here you go." she said, handing him two pills and a cup of orange juice. "Thanks." he said, palming the pills once again. She didn't notice as she sat down next to him to watch TV. He put the two blue pills in his pocket, turning his attention to the TV. He suppressed a grimace whenever she touched him accidentally or bumped into him. If he kept going like this, it was going to be a very, very painful recovery.
There. Two to go! Read and review s'il vous plait!
He woke up in the middle of the night, sweat on his face. He put a hand to his mouth to stifle a scream. The last thing he wanted was Kirsten awake so she could dispense some more "helpful" medicine. He got into the wheelchair and went over to the bathroom. He purified his system once again, feeling surprisingly better when he was done. He got a drink of water before getting back into the wheelchair. He lay in bed. Kirsten walked in a little later to check up on him. She thought he looked a little pale, and his deep sleep worried her. She thought about waking him, but then thought about how embarrassed Ryan would be. He had been fine with her babying him for the first couple of days of his recovery, but she figured it was mostly because he knew he needed her help. Now, he pushed her away slightly when she tried to help him up, trying as hard as he could not to hurt her feelings.
She felt guilty for leaving him alone. She slapped her head with her hand quietly, thinking of how un-motherly she had been, leaving him alone so soon after his recovery had started. She wiped a solitary tear away from her face and knelt down beside him. She kissed him on the forehead and took his hand in hers. It felt so cold, as though he were some strange reptile and not a human being. "Lord..." she prayed silently. "Please help Ryan get better..." she was in tears by the end of the prayer, Ryan's hand entwined in hers. She felt strangely comforted by his sleeping figure. He was so different from Seth. Seth was loud, funny, obnoxious sometimes, but funny. He was an incredibly deep sleeper, so she never worried about him. But Ryan, he'd wake up at the drop of a hat, as though he was expecting someone to attack him, or hurt him in some way. Any noise that was made would send him jumping into the air, his eyes wide with terror.
As she thought about her completely different sons, she saw Ryan move slightly. She moved closer to him, making sure she was in his eyesight when he opened his eyes. She moved his head towards her with her free hand. He started coughing violently, causing Kirsten to jump . "Sweetie?" she asked, and her voice cracked from the tears that she'd shed moments before. Ryan's breathing steadied, and he looked from left to right, his eyes suddenly focusing on Kirsten. "What's wrong?" he asked hoarsely. Kirsten shook her head. "Nothing, sweetie, I just came to check on you, and you started coughing. I was really worried." Ryan half smiled, his usual signal to show that even though he wasn't ok, he would make damn sure they thought he was. "Maybe...maybe you should take two more pills." said Kirsten, trying to get him to say yes. He had something against the pills, but she thought he was just being stubborn.
"No, no." his eyes watered slightly. "Please, Mrs. Cohen...please don't make me take the pills." Kirsten tried to smile. "Now you're back to 'Mrs. Kirsten'? So 'mom' was only while you were delusional and seeing four of me?" Ryan attempted another half smile, but thought better of it and gave her a real smile. "Sorry, I just...Please don't make me take those things." he pleaded, pointing to the desk with the container. "If you really don't want to, you don't have to, but..." she smiled. "If you're not gonna call me 'mom', then at least go for 'Kirsten'." Ryan blinked slowly, trying to distinguish the real world from his horrible dreams. "I'll let you sleep, ok?" he nodded even slower than he blinked, terrified that he'd go through another wave of pain. "Sorry for bothering you sweetie." she said as she opened the door. She didn't get a response from Ryan, who was so exhausted he passed out again.
He wheeled into the kitchen, the smell of bacon overpowering the house. "Ah, my friend. As you can see, I've taken over your position as official bacon maitre of the household. You know how much mom likes bacon, don't you? Course ya do, buddy, huh, huh?" Seth's banter confused him, and he moved his head slowly from side to side, closing his eyes in an attempt to portray pity. Seth laughed as Kirsten entered the room, proclaiming: "Seth, I didn't know you knew how to make bacon!" Seth tilted his head and nodded, pointing at Ryan. "I learn from the master, mother." Ryan tried not to laugh as Seth clumsily made the bacon, dropping some to the ground, recoiling as some grease some got on his arm, and squealing when he got some in his eye.
Kirsten kissed Seth on the cheek as he was leaving. He wiped his face off. "Ew, I think I got like, mom germs or something from that." Kirsten messed up his hair and he stumbled away. She closed the door, sighing. "Ryan?" she asked, leaning her head over the wall to see Ryan. He looked up at her, smiling. "You don't need to use the wheelchair, as of today." She pulled out a pair of crutches with a blue ribbon on it. Ryan breathed in as deeply as his bound ribs would allow him, smiling a genuine and truly happy smile in Kirsten's direction. He didn't care about the intense pain that followed his quick movements. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he said, his voice still hoarse. He reached out to grab the crutches, but Kirsten pulled them from his grasp. "Wait." she said, to his obvious dismay. "Promise me that you won't get ahead of yourself and try to run around, or something." He nodded gravely, reaching for the crutches once again. She skeptically handed them to him, and he mouthed another "Thank you." He tried to pull himself up, but failed and sat back down.
Kirsten was rubbing her hands together, trying to restrain herself from helping him. She knew he should do this on his own, but she couldn't help the feeling that he was silently asking for her help. She inched closer to him, making sure he didn't notice she was going to give into her motherly instinct and help him. She got close enough to say a quick: "Let me help you, sweetie." and try to help him up. He gave her a sideways glance. "I don't need help, Kirsten." He made very sure to call her Kirsten. "You do. And you need to start asking for it.". He blushed before steadying himself on Kirsten's arm. "Thanks..." he muttered, the half smile once again plastered on his face. "No problem." She smiled. "Ok, so you start your new physio today, and you have a new physiotherapist. Ms. Fields." Ryan nodded. "Take it easy, don't do too much at once, and please take the pain medications. Please?" She gave him puppy dog eyes, and he looked away. "It doesn't hurt." he whispered. She snorted. "Sure, that's why you flinch every time anyone even taps you. You're in pain, and you need those.". She pointed to the container of pills.
"I don't need those, ok?" he said, louder than before. It came out a little angrier than he had intended, and he flinched, expecting the worst. "I'm so-sorry. I don't like meds. I really, I can't deal with them. What if I get addicted?". Kirsten furrowed her eyebrows. She hadn't thought about that. "Just take them, ok? This isn't a conversation anymore. I'm telling you that you're taking them, so you are, understood?". He looked at her, sighed, and nodded. "Fine.". She walked over to where the pills were, shook two out and handed them to him, along with a cup of water. She watches him pretend to take them, palming them instead. "There." said Kirsten, proud of herself. She put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Don't worry, Ryan. I won't let anything happen to you.". She sent him off to sit down. He offered that he should probably sleep for a while, and she agreed.
He crutched his way over to his room and shut the door. He thought about flushing the pills down the toilet. But wouldn't they get suspicious if he only went to the bathroom every 6 hours? He wasn't thinking straight. The pain that surged through his body prevented him from thinking straight. He grabbed a pot with some sort of plant in it and dug a small hole. He put the two pills in it. He carefully sat down on the bed. He hated lying to the Cohens, but if he told them, he'd end up back in the hospital. He couldn't end up in the hospital again.
*** 9 years ago ***
"I don't know why you don't want to take the fucking pills, Ry. They're free, they get you high, what's the problem?" Ryan's hands shook. "I don't like them." he whispered. "Well fuck you, kid. Take the pills or I take them." said Bill. "Take 'em then!" said Ryan, regretting his tone immediately. "Little punk..." mumbled Bill, punching him in the face. "Bill, come on. He just got out of the hospital thanks to his little 'fall' down the stairs." Ryan shivered as he remembered. Bill grabbed the container of pills from Dawn and got all he could out of them. He forced Ryan's mouth open and pushed the pills in. He gave him the bottle of gin he had to swallow them. "How do you like 'em now, huh kid?" Ryan's pupils dilated almost immediately. He passed out on the couch, his body convulsing fiercely from time to time. Hallucinations clouded his dreams. Dreams of death, murder, abuse...his life.
Trey slammed the door. "Keep it quiet!" yelled Bill from his couch. He dropped his backpack on the ground, stopping when he saw Ryan on the floor. "What is he doing there?" he asked, giving Bill a sideways glance. "He fell.". Trey gave a sneer. "Yeah. The same way he 'fell' down the stairs?". Bill glared at him. "Shut up or you'll end up falling too.". Trey shrugged and turned his attention to Ryan. He tried to pick him up, but he couldn't. The boy was shaking violently in his sleep, every once in a while whimpering or letting out a small scream. Trey opened his eyes to see if he was aware of them. "What did you do to him?" he asked, his voice filled with anger. He heard Bill laugh. "He didn't want to take his pills so I made him take them.". Trey ran over to him. "You made him overdose? What the fuck is wrong with you?". Bill pushed him aside. From the ground, he pleaded with Bill. "Please take him to the hospital."
Bill finally agreed, and they went to go find Dawn, who was also passed out, but for completely different reasons. He poked her. "Come on. We gotta take your damn kid to the hospital. "Which one?" mumbled Dawn. "The little punk. Come on.". Dawn yawned and stretched, giving herself a headache. "What's wrong with him?" she asked. "Bill made him overdose." said Trey, his voice dripping with hatred. Dawn snorted. "I already knew that. How bad can it be for him?". Trey shook his head in disgust and walked out. "Bill? Help me pick him up!" said Trey from the living room. No one came, so he had to pick the boy up by himself. He put him over his shoulder, and screamed at the two parents in the bedroom. "Come on! Let's go!"
Dawn pouted and got up. Bill walked past Trey, not even stopping to help him. He got his keys and started the car. "Put the kid in." he said flatly, not having forgotten the container of pills, which he took with him. They drove at a leisurely pace, and it was clear Bill was just doing it to bother Trey. "Ryan?" he asked in the back seat, lightly slapping Ryan across the face. He didn't move. Trey slapped him again, harder. He moved a bit, but stopped a few moments later. "Ryan, please wake up." said Trey, willing him to be ok. Ryan started shaking uncontrollably as they pulled into the hospital. Trey crawled out and ran as fast as he could into the hospital. "My brother...he needs...help..." he gasped out, panting. "Ok, son. Where is he?" asked the doctor calmly. Trey wondered how she could be so calm.
Dawn got out of the car, looking very worried, but Trey glared at her. It was all an act. "I got home and he had taken almost all the pain medication pills you gave us before. I was so scared he was dead." she whimpered. Trey snorted. The doctor and his helpers got Ryan onto the gurney without any problems. "He's gonna need his stomach pumped." said the doctor, his voice "matter-of-factly". They carted him into the hospital. Dawn tried to follow, but a nurse stopped her. "I'm sorry ma'am, but you, your son, and your husband will have to stay here.". Bill, who hadn't been paying attention, caught that last part. "Hey, I ain't her husband, alright?". The nurse nodded uncomfortably. "Sorry.". Bill shrugged. "We'll keep you informed about his health." she said quietly, with a small smile. Dawn smiled back, dismissing the nurse.
Bill left after an hour, saying he didn't waste his life with some piece of shit girlfriend who's kid was in the hospital half the time. He had left them, leaving Dawn to conclude: "Guess we're taking the bus home.". The doctor came out another two hours later. "Mrs. Atwood?". Dawn had stood, her composure still calm and steady even though her son had almost died. "Your son Ryan seems to have some sort of allergy to the medications we gave him before. They cause severe hallucinations and mental deficiencies. We're very sorry that we didn't realize his intolerance to the drugs earlier. The overdose made him experience some terrible delusions. He seems to have had a seizure, but we're not sure if they will continue." Dawn cut him off. "You're a doctor and you made a fucking mistake with my kid?". The doctor was taken by surprise.
"We're very sorry, Mrs. Atwood, but mistakes happen.". Dawn wasn't going to take anymore of his crap. "Come on, Trey. We're leaving.". Trey struggled against his mother, who was pulling him towards the doors. "But what about Ryan?" asked Trey, his voice cracking. "We'll pick him up later! Now come on, you little shit!". Trey gave up, letting his mother drag him away from his brother. The doctor stared at the two, his mouth gaping open at the mistreatment of the young man. Now that he thought about it, the scratches that were fading on Ryan's arms and face resembled those of Dawn's long, acrylic nails. The bruising on his face resembled a punch to the face, and the fact that Ryan had "fallen" down the stairs and had somehow gotten scars around his neck. It all pointed to abuse. He felt terrible for the 8 year old. No child deserved that sort of treatment.
Ryan opened his eyes wide, gasping for air. He was all alone. The dark room around him made him feel even more lonely than he already was. He coughed. His stomach ached, and his head pulsed in pain. Where was he? Where was Trey, and his mother? Hell, he would even want to see Bill right now. A nurse walked in. "Hi sweetie..." she said softly. The pale boy in front of her flinched. "Where-where's my mom?" he asked. The nurse was troubled by his voice. He sounded like an adult, not like any of the eight year olds she'd met over the years, still calling their mother's "mommy" and getting called names like "pumpkin", and "sweetheart". "They had to go home, but we're gonna take care of you here." replied the nurse softly. "Does your stomach hurt? I think it's time for your medication..." she continued. Ryan shook his head. "No, no more pills...". His voice cracked. The nurse nodded. "Alright, sweetie, but you get some rest, alright?". Ryan nodded.
*** Present Day ***
Ryan woke up sweating once again, this time awoken by a real nightmare, not a drug induced one. He cried silently. Where had his mother been when he had woken up all alone in that hospital? No where to be seen. While Kirsten, Seth, and Sandy had been there for him 24/7, she had only shown up a few days later, to pull him out of the hospital without notice, so they wouldn't have to pay. He got up, getting his crutches from up against the wall. He looked at his clock. Noon. He crutched his way into the living room, where his new physiotherapist was. He stood up to greet him. "Hi, Ryan! I'm Ms. Fields.". Ryan looked down and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you..." he muttered. They spent the next few hours practicing exercises to get his leg back to normal. He walked her to the door when she was ready to leave. "Ok now Ryan. I expect you to practice those exercises regularly, and don't try too much at a time, alright?". Ryan nodded.
Kirsten gave him an excited smile. "See? Wasn't that easier with the pills?". Ryan nodded. "Yeah." he lied. "Oh! Which reminds me. Here you go." she said, handing him two pills and a cup of orange juice. "Thanks." he said, palming the pills once again. She didn't notice as she sat down next to him to watch TV. He put the two blue pills in his pocket, turning his attention to the TV. He suppressed a grimace whenever she touched him accidentally or bumped into him. If he kept going like this, it was going to be a very, very painful recovery.
There. Two to go! Read and review s'il vous plait!
