A new update...I promise Scarred Youth will be updated soon, I just have to get through finals. The last chap WAS a flashback, can't say that enough. Anyways, here's the update, hope you like. Again, for reference, Trey was never shot...it never happened...

Oh brother, I can't, I can't get through

I've been trying hard to reach you

'Cause I don't know what to do

Oh brother I can't believe it's true

I'm so scared about the future

And I wanna talk to you

Oh, I wanna talk to you. . .

"Talk" by Coldplay

"Please wake up," she pleaded with the boy. He didn't deserve any of this. His life was story-telling worthy. He had battled everything and it had been time to relax. But that didn't happen. It would never happen.

Sanford Cohen lifted his head to footsteps. There stood Trey Atwood, inawkwardly at the doorway. Kirsten and Sanford Cohen slowly exited the room. It hurt so much to leave their now only son.

Trey Atwood suddenly felt uncomfortable around his little brother. The person lying in the bed was not the same person Trey Atwood knew. His brother was never this close to death. After all these two were through, this was by far the worst.

He sat down, and looked at his brother. Thoughts ran back to years and years ago when they were kids. Back when their mother wasn't an alcoholic, and their father was still there. Those were times that they were a family. Dysfunctional, yes, but a family nonetheless.

"You gotta wake up Little Brother," Trey Atwood started, and waited for movement. Nothing. "Please, Ry, please. Nothing is right. You have to wake up. We need you so badly Ry. Please wake up soon."

He looked down sadly at his brother and there was no change. How long would it be until a movement?

"I talked to Mom. She's gonna come out and visit. I don't know when, but she will. Maybe you'll be awake by then. I hope so, because this place is falling apart without you."

Trey Atwood, ten years old, pitched the old ratty baseball to his five year old brother. The younger one barely hit it, and Trey Atwood was getting annoyed.

"Come on Ryan. Hit it like you mean it," he said and his little brother threw the ball back at him.

"Why do I have to learn this?" the brother put the bat down in anger.

"Because I'm your big brother and if I don't teach you this, who will? Dad? He's too busy, you gotta learn," Trey Atwood stated as he would state the beginning line to his brother ten years later.

"I don't want to learn," his younger brother began to pick a fight and Trey Atwood hated fighting. He always won, and sometimes, he felt bad. Sometimes.

"Too bad," he prepared his pitch but the other brother didn't move. "What?"

"I quit."

"You can't quit. Atwoods aren't quitters. Now, get ready," Trey Atwood watched his brother pick up the bat. They worked on it for a bit, and as they got farther into it, Trey Atwood grew angrier. His brother was quite possibly getting worse.

"Can we be done?" the little boy begged.

"Why? Are you tired? Nah, a few more, I'll them 'em faster, be ready," Trey Atwood threw the ball, which his brother clearly missed. "You're swinging all wrong. Here, like this."

Trey Atwood, at a young age of ten, was excellent at sports. He later fell out of them, when his family fell apart.

Trey Atwood hit the ball far and ordered his little brother to go get it. His brother was silent and often overseen even at that young of an age. He just wasn't that strong.

This day wasn't an exception.

All Trey Atwood remembered now of what happened after that was seeing from a distance, his mother picking up her little boy off the road.

Dawn Atwood had been a good mother, and she cared for her boys. Her hands shook as she drove them to the hospital. Trey Atwood held his little brother in his arms. Blood seeped into his white shirt.

Trey Atwood had never been allowed to stay off of school, but for two days, he had. For two days, he sat by his little brother's side. For two days, he waited until the five year old woke up. For two days, he watched his family fall apart in front of him.

His little brother had been bruised and battered. The look of him summed up the two's childhood. It was abuse after abuse.

Two days the small boy slept and let the world around him fall away until there was nothing left.

Trey Atwood couldn't help but see the resemblance his brother had to his own self at five years old. They both were battered, and both hadn't woken up.

It was twice as long this time, and there was twice the damage. So twice the destruction. It amazed Trey Atwood how his brother's new family was still functioning.

The stay here had to be expensive. He remembered that just a two day stay killed their family. Along with rent, and water, and other bills, they were in debt.

Trey Atwood remembered their father a lot better than his brother. Their father was a decent guy, and indeed, he did have flaws, but that didn't change the fact that he cared about his family.

No one ever had the heart to tell Trey Atwood's brother that he was the reason his father was in jail.

The bills had been pilling up, and the Atwoods needed money. They were desperate. So, their father went out one dark and dreary night with a bag. None of them questioned it. He hugged Trey Atwood and his brother, then their mother, and walked out. That was the last time they saw him not wearing an orange jumpsuit.

They would visit every so often, and usually Dawn Atwood was the only one who saw him. Trey Atwood maybe saw him three times, and his brother, once. The visits were less and less, and now, they were never.

Trey Atwood didn't say a word to his brother, they were silent. Who knew back then when they were little kids that it would turn out like this?

He slipped his hand into his brother's for one final plead.

"Please, Ry, wake up. We need you. Don't do this," Trey Atwood waited for something, but nothing came.

Hope was growing thin, even after four days. His brother was in a coma, no one like the sound of it.

A battered hand squeezed another, and Trey Atwood stared at his brother. Never faster did he run out of the room and get a doctor. The hope all grew back as he practically screamed.

A doctor came into the room, and looked over the comatose victim. He shook his head. No, I'm sorry. No, it isn't happening. No, sometimes this occurs. No, it means nothing. Yes, your brother is still in the coma.

Questions came from Trey Atwood's mouth like rapid fire. And all the answers disappointed him more.

"Please Ry, wake up soon," Trey Atwood said to his brother after the doctor had left. Then he left, unfortunately leaving his brother alone.

Please review, we've only got three more chapters left!