The honeymoon is over. Now romie is making demands, and I must do everything in my power to fulfill them. Why? She's Canadian, and despite what you might hear, we have wicked tempers. Many warm thanks to Maud, who helped me out in my juvie stupidity.
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"Come on, kid."
Seth looked up to see Tim, still concerned, still pitying, looking at him.
Seth gave him-- all two of him --a silly smile and nodded, trying to stand up.
Tim and Steve each took an elbow and guided him to his feet.
The sun was too bright, and it blinded Seth for a bitter moment.
They carefully led him into the station, and the sound of drunks and junkies filled Seth's ears and caused him to shake his head to rid himself of the echoing noise.
He looked at the people sitting and standing throughout the police station again. He thought they looked old, despite the fact that only a few of them were over eighteen filled
"This one drunk?"
Seth opened his eyes long enough to see Tim shake his head. He pointed at Seth's neck. Seth could still feel the blood dripping down, sliding down his chest, leaving stains on his clothes that stuck to him.
The rugged looking officer with a beard and eyebrows comparable to his fathers' leant closer to Seth.
Seth pulled back a little, still unhappy about everyone getting in his face. The man pushed Seth's chin up and looked at the cut on his neck.
Seth swallowed nervously, waiting for the search to be over.
"The doctor's with Smith right now. I'll get Jenny to page him."
Tim nodded appreciatively and sat Seth down in the most uncomfortable chair he'd ever seen. Seriously? He thought they put some sort of device in it that made people feel completely awkward, just for kicks.
"You called his dad yet?"
A nod from the bothered secretary. She didn't seem to notice Seth's presence, and if she did, she didn't care.
Tim walked over to Seth and sat down.
He didn't seem to care abou the uncomfortable chair.
"As soon as you get patched up, we'll put you in one of the empty cells."
Seth shivered and let out a little whimper at the last word.
His reaction didn't go unnoticed by Tim, who tilted his head and smiled sadly.
"You hungry? Thirsty?"
Seth shook his head and shivered again.
He didn't belong here. At least, he didn't think so. Across the room, a girl in the shortest skirt Seth had ever seen and fishnet stockings scanned the room and glowered as she was led into the station by an antipathetic police officer.
In another corner, a boy swore and cursed anyone within a five foot radius.
Sitting close to the cursing boy, but definitely not next to him, was a shaggy haired boy with his head bowed. He shrunk into the squeaky chair, looking all of twelve.
Seth thought he looked like Ryan.
"Where's my brother?"
Tim looked sympathetic.
That was never a good sign. Especially not when Ryan looked the way he did when Seth left in the back of the police car.
"I-- I don't know."
Seth frowned. He hadn't heard a police officer stutter like that here. Show weakness.
He thought they had no weaknesses.
"I'll check for you, kid."
The second Tim left, Seth let out a shaky breath and looked around. No one seemed to notice him. He was definitely not going to cry.
Even though he felt like it.
In a way, he wanted to be taken into the cell, so that he could do what he wanted. Not that he thought there would be much freedom in a cell, but at least he would be able to cry if he felt the need to.
And he definitely felt the need to.
Tim returned a few seconds later and sat down again.
"Your friend Ryan Atwood, he's in Chino Hills Medical Center. Waiting for a parent to fill in papers."
Seth bit his lip and suppressed a wave of tears.
His dad was coming to see him.
Not Ryan.
Ryan was all alone in a dingy hospital room, getting poked and prodded.
At least Seth thought it was dingy. This was Chino, after all.
The doctor opened the door with a bag full of medical equipment. Seth felt scared, and he didn't know why.
Doc didn't say anything, just took Tim's spot on the chair next to Seth and moved him to the side.
Seth winced when he applied the gauze and wrapped it tight. The pulsing pain from before turned into a sheet of dull ache, and it didn't sting too much. Not as much as it did in the car.
"Ok. We've got a cell in the back. It's the last one at the end of the corridor."
Seth swallowed hard and whimpered when Steve pulled him up roughly by the elbow and pushed him forward.
His handcuffs were removed and they asked him to place everything inside all his pockets and anything he had on him on the table. He did.
Steve then told him to keep his hands behind his back as he led him into the corridor full of cells.
It wasn't like he imagined a hallway full of jail cells to be at all. No one threw makeshift knives at him as he walked past. No one whistled or jeered.
They all looked so tired. So unhappy. A few of them, the really drunk ones, stoned ones, high ones, they talked to themselves and yelled at the Steve, but that was it.
Cobwebs in the corner, dripping water coming from a crack in the wall? There was none of that.
The fluorescent lighting was dimmed down and gave everyone a sickly pale color. Seth didn't bring himself to think that maybe they actually were that anemic color, and the lights only served to blanch them further.
The door slid open and Seth was pushed inside. Steve closed the door and left.
This cell smelled bad. Rancid. And the smells penetrated his nose and made him want to gag.
Seth sat in the corner of the small cell and blocked out all the noises.
He wasn't going to cry here.
He wasn't going to cry here because everyone might go all Oz on his ass. Literally.
He would save his tears for when he was out of here, and talking to his dad about what happened.
That would be when he'd cry.
He touched the gauze on his neck and started shaking. He pulled his knees up to his chest, looking for comfort, and wrapped his arms around his knees.
It always brought him comfort before. When he'd rest his head on his shaky knees and make himself small. It always worked.
It didn't work anymore.
He wasn't a child anymore, so of course his old manner of calming himself down wouldn't work anymore.
He should have known better.
"He's just a kid... Don't hurt him."
A shudder joined in Seth's shaking, and he thought how ironic it was that being called that had been what caused him to do what he did. Turn into an adult.
His hand drew itself to his neck. He could still feel exactly where the cut was. From the pulsing it did, he knew where it started. Where it ended.
He hadn't thought about how much of this exactly was his fault before.
To him, he had ripped the knife out of Eddie's calloused hands and stabbed him with it.
In his mind, he could see himself smirking as the blade tore through cloth and flesh.
That obviously wasn't the case, but Seth couldn't get the image of his face twisting in sadistic pleasure at the sight of a wounded man.
The cut on his neck seemed to prove otherwise, seeing as it must have been an occurrence of Eddie's hand pushing down on the blade.
Pushing down and making contact with his neck, slicing the skin and thinking nothing of it.
Seth dismissed the thoughts that pegged Eddie as a worse person than he already thought of him as.
He had hurt his best friend. Only friend.
But he didn't deserve to be stabbed for that.
He deserved to go to jail and rot there, like Seth was going to, but he didn't deserve to have metal tear through his skin.
Seth shuddered again.
As much as he hated himself right now, Seth knew he didn't deserve to be stabbed, either.
And yet, Eddie had tried to do just that.
"I didn't smoke that... I was keeping it for my friend..."
Seth jumped as someone laughed. A deep, manic laugh that shook him to his very core.
He wished that he had a blanket so that he could drown out the sounds of everyone's voice by placing it over his head.
He wanted someone to hug him. He wanted Summer to hug him.
She always had this way of calming him. Of making him feel better.
He had called her the day after he came back.
Told her that she was the reason he came back. That he loved her. That he had since he was little.
She didn't say anything, but her quiet sobs showed that he had broken her heart enough.
And she hung up on him, and his heart broke a little too.
She wouldn't want him now. She would have even more reason to hate him.
Attacker. Stabber. Completely useless.
That was him.
He wanted to sleep. To be able to close his eyes and drift off like he had in the back of the police car would be a kind gift from Moses. Or Jesus. Or whoever was in charge.
But he didn't deserve that. And he didn't get it.
"Cohen. Your dad's here."
Seth jumped and shrunk further into the corner. His dad.
Sandy would be so disappointed in him. He'd be so angry. He wouldn't want to help him out.
He didn't want to know what his dad had to say, only because it would drag him further into a pit of despair.
Maybe it wouldn't.
Maybe his dad would understand.
Seth doubted that. But he'd just have to find out.
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