Thank you all for the reviews.
This is rated R.
Seth stormed out of the tiny apartment. The door, swelled from the heat in the room, refused to close until Seth gave a final pull and felt it budge into place. There were no keys to lock it with and Seth hoped it would be okay even though the neighbourhood looked prone to break-ins. Catching up with Ryan, who'd set an angry pace down the street, Seth offered to drive him to the hospital. Conflicting emotions battled in Ryan's eyes. If he wasn't so worried about Theresa he probably wouldn't have accepted, but he was worried and so Seth drove them, miles over the speed limit, dodging and weaving in traffic, to the emergency room.
Ryan, sitting silent, had been metamorphosed from a confident, in control, teenage-man to a worried statue of nerves. His stone-hard features concentrated on the passing buildings as they blurred by. Seth watched his face darken at each red light and stop sign.
Finally at the hospital, Seth parked the car while Ryan rushed inside to see if he could find anything out.
Taking his time, Seth scoured the parking lot for a space. He wasn't entirely sure it was safe to leave the car outside unattended, but he had no other choice. Wobbly legs led him through the automatic doors and into the waiting room.
Just as Seth was about to approach a lost-looking Ryan, a tall street-kid -attractive, dyed black hair and a stud through his nose--came down the hall and Ryan grabbed a hold of him. "Stix."
"Ry."
They eyed each other, neither seemingly able to find words. It was Ryan that finally broke the silence with his tortured voice.
"What did he do to her?" he asked, pulling on the labels of the taller boy's jacket.
The boy hung his head. "Beat her up pretty bad. She wouldn't let any of us touch her. She only wanted you." Seth saw silver flashing in his mouth when he talked and surmised he also had his tongue pierced. Seth felt his own tongue in his mouth, and thinking about the initial pain of having a bar through it, winced.
"Fuck! The baby?" The question sounded brittle like it would shatter him to a million pieces if he got the wrong answer.
Stix shook his head. "They're releasing her as soon as the doctor comes back."
Ryan appeared to be bracing himself, like at any moment he would fall apart and everything around him would collapse. "Are they letting anyone see her?"
Something about the way they interacted made Seth think that this wasn't the first time something like this had happened; it was like a ritual they hadn't quite practised enough, runes of unfaithful prayers.
Stix eased Ryan's hands off of his pauper jacket and let them fall where they may. "You can go; she's been asking for you anyway."
Ryan nodded and looked back at Seth. Everything undesirable was shining in his eyes and Seth couldn't breath. In the movies, in books, they always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, but not Ryan's. Ryan gave nothing away now. He just glared with fearless determination and strength.
Seth excused himself to find the men's room. He turned on the cold water faucet and doused his face, looking in the mirror. The air smelled musky like moth balls and sour milk. He felt his stomach lurch and his saliva thicken. He made it into the stall just in time to throw up everything in his stomach. Leaning against the porcelain, it felt like a vice was wrapped around his head, squeezing out all joyous thoughts. It didn't seem to bother him whether he contracted something from the toilet because at the moment his legs didn't remember how to stand. After a while though, he stood, coils of wracking shakes numbing his nerves, and made his way out of the stall and back to the sink. In the mirror, he saw his skin was gray and his eyes bloodshot. This moment wasn't real he kept telling himself. Shaking his head, he tried to come to his senses. He cleaned himself off as best he could and when he couldn't hide out in the bathroom any longer, he made his way out into the waiting room.
Two girls were sitting on either side of the guy Ryan had referred to as Stix on uncomfortable-looking red chairs - Seth thought that was a bad choice of colour to put into a hospital where so much blood was spilt daily. One, he recognized as Gwen -the woman that had given him his first blow job. She was resting against his side, biting her lip and the other -a diminutive woman, donning a fiery-red wig with lips to match and alabaster skin-was staring at the broken clock on the opposite wall.
Seth approached slowly. They all looked up, but no one spoke to him. Stix jutted out his chin in acknowledgement and Seth mimicked his actions, sitting down in an empty chair.
Ryan crept down the long corridor, the antiseptic smell burning the hairs in his nose and a trail of blood under the janitors mop making his stomach churn. The smell of death was strong. The chipped, graying walls, once white and gleaming, were like an old pair of lungs finally giving out, surrendering their last breath. A wave of cold rushed through him like a ghost walking through his body without permission and it gave him the creeps. Ryan hated hospitals. He'd spent enough time in them to know that not everyone left and death lingered much longer than a hacking cough or a broken bone.
He hesitated at the doorway, reminded of how many times they'd done this dance before. The overhead lights buzzed and flickered harsh-white against his eyes. From his place, he could just make out Theresa at the very last bed. The mustard-yellow drapes were pulled halfway around the bed, just enough to allow him a glimpse.
She was curled up, her back facing him, the threadbare sheets wrapped tightly around as she clutched a pillow like it was the only thing she had to cling to. He knew when he approached she would cling to him in the same way.
Theresa trusted the wrong people. She had trusted Eddie and she'd believed him when he'd told her he loved her and that he would always be there. She should have taken him at face value. Because he always was there. Even when she called it off, told him she'd made a mistake, he was there. Hovering. Restricting. Shrinking her into someone Ryan didn't recognize.
A nurse breezed past him and he finally got up his nerve, stepping into the room with Theresa and half-a-dozen other occupied beds. He slowly made his way around the side so he could see her face. The damage was worse than he expected, but not as bad as it had been the last time. For that, he could be thankful. Her eyes battled to open, welling up with tears when she recognized him.
"Hey," he said, touching the side of her face. It was bruised and her lip was bloodied. He tried not to cringe.
"Ry." Her voice was strained like she was speaking through a mouthful of marbles.
Ryan didn't want to say anything that would upset her, but there were things on the tip of his tongue he wished he could say. He took her hand and perched on the side of the bed, careful not to disturb her. The circles under her eyes-masked under purple bruises-were darker than he had ever seen them before. He knew it was time for her to go to Atlanta.
"I thought we agreed that Eddie was bad news," he said and tried not to sound too bitter or reprimanding. "He could have killed you. I told you that I would take care of you; I told you that you didn't need to do this anymore."
"We need the money and I swear: I didn't know he knew Eddie." She started to cry. Ryan hated when people cried. He always felt awkward and useless. He gathered Theresa in his arms. She clung to him like he knew she would, and, fisting his shirt into her hands, sobbed onto his shoulder.
Theresa recounted the whole ordeal with detached exactness. Eddie's friend had lured her into a car with the promise of money and delivered her to Eddie, defenceless and alone. He'd beaten her like a dog. She'd felt like she was being broken in two, like he would never stop and the pain would never ease, like it would always live inside her and suck out all the laughter from her soul. And even when she cried and begged him to stop, he hadn't, not until her thighs were drenched in blood and her voice was barely a gasp did he stop his violation.
Ryan's gut twisted. He couldn't help thinking that if he had been there he could have stopped it...he could have saved Theresa.
How she could be so stupid, he didn't know. Except that a small part of him did get it, did understand. Because he had once trusted so freely and the consequences had been just as devastating. So really, he couldn't be mad at her for having hope that people could change, that there was goodness in everyone. In a way, he envied it.
Touching her hair-matted with small twigs and clots of dirt-he whispered, "I think it's time."
She didn't agree or disagree either way.
Ryan held her for a very long time until the doctor came in for one final exam and signed her release papers.
The nurse-her own eyes watery and her skin blotched-had been nice enough to find Theresa some clothes -a gray track suit, frayed at the sleeves and worn thin at the knees. Ryan thanked her and helped Theresa take off the scratchy paper nightgown stained with blood.
Bile rose in his throat as her body was bared. Fist-size bruises marred her tan skin accompanied by cuts and scraps and blood. Her back and legs were no better and Ryan had to look at the ceiling to keep the tears out of his eyes.
Blood. So much blood.
Running a washcloth over the wounds, Theresa didn't react at all. She stared off into space, a vacant look in her eyes. She registered nothing and that, more than anything, scared him.
Everything was bruised. Theresa was defeated. And he hadn't been there to stop it.
Seth didn't know what he was supposed to do. He wasn't good in a crisis. No one spoke to him or to each other and Seth began to feel an ominous thump in his chest every time he looked up and Ryan still hadn't come back.
An hour later, Ryan walked alongside a nurse as she pushed Theresa in a wheelchair. Their hands were connected in a tight grip.
Seth, following the others' lead stood as they approached, taking tentative steps toward the pair.
He tried not to stare at the nasty bruises or Theresa's stomach where a baby had once been, but he knew he did a piss-poor job of it.
"That's Seth," Ryan said, offering no other explanation. Theresa had surely seen him before. She knew who he was.
Theresa tried to smile, but didn't quite make it.
"I'm sorry," Seth began, but Ryan's hand was on his chest and his eyes-blue and commanding-were locked on him.
"We don't say sorry."
Seth looked between the aged faces of the teens who nodded in agreement. He didn't know what to do, so he did nothing.
Ryan crouched down, took Theresa's arm and placed it around his neck. He lifted her up and, with deliberate care, passed her over to Stix.
"Go with Stix; he'll take care of you until I get back." His voice was gentle, but Theresa refused to look at him for some reason. Ryan sighed. "Okay?" No response. His hand cupped her face, tilted her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye. "Okay, Theresa?"
She finally nodded and let Stix lead her out the automatic doors. Jags and Gwen followed close behind.
"Is she going to be okay?"
Ryan nodded.
"What happened? Is there anything I can do?"
"You know what? You ask too many fucking questions!" Obviously in Ryan's eyes Seth was just making a nuisance of himself.
"Look, I'm just trying to help."
"You want to help? Go home, Seth," Ryan said without facing him. "You don't belong here."
Seth's adrenaline was pumping. "I want to help." He touched Ryan's shoulder, but he shook Seth's hand off.
"You can help by leaving. I can't watch out for you, too."
Seth watched him walk out the door without a look back. He moved out of the way as two paramedics rushed through the door with a man on a stretcher, blood oozing from an open wound on his chest. Seth watched drops of red hit the worn tile and when he looked back up all traces of Ryan and his friends were gone.
Seth stood there until something inside him ripped. It was the picture he had of Ryan's life. The glamour and glitz were swept aside with the torn portrait he'd painted himself of Ryan. It was just an image, an idea and it needed clarifying. Seth was not going to save Ryan with money. It was going to take a lot more than that.