Our Place in the Food Chain: Part XIII

James Timothy Possible was by no means a large man. In fact, in physical stature he was the pure definition of average. Yet, as he carried his unconscious daughter upstairs he looked terrifyingly huge to Ron. The sight of Kim in his arms, blessedly sleeping off the effects of the alcohol, made him seem almost ten feet tall, a towering edifice of protective father. She looked like a small child, not a young woman on the verge of adulthood cradled that way.

Not knowing what else to do, Ron stopped at the foot of her loft stairs as both mother and father went up to care for her. He knew he was in trouble, more trouble than he ever had been before. All the trust those two put in him had been flushed away, and for what? Just to increase his standings in the "Food Chain?" Instead now Kim had been hurt and it was his fault. He shouldn't have insisted they go to the party. He knew what could happen. Kim would never willingly drink like that so somebody had done this to her. It was his job to have her back, not spend his evening making a fool of himself in front of other women.

This was it, the absolute worst case scenario. Minutes crept by as he stared at the stairway. Up there was his doom, the man he respected most in the world, perhaps even more than his own father. Any moment now he would come down the stairs, a look of righteous fury on his face. He didn't say a word when he pulled up at the party, quietly loading her into the back seat. In fact, the only time he had spoken since calling them twenty minutes earlier was a terse order to get his bike and follow him home. He did so knowing full well he was driving to his own execution.

Right now he didn't see where he had any choice except to wait and take it like a man. Everything in his heart told him to run back downstairs, kick-start his bike and go home to hide. The near adult in him told him that would only make matters worse, if they actually could be from this point. If their was any way to salvage their relationship, at least as far as her parents were concerned, he would have to take what came, no matter how harsh it was. The growing logical side of his mind knew that Mr. Dr. Possible would not actually send him into outer space or do him any physical harm. No, he had more potent weapons than that in his arsenal. All he had to do was speak the words, "You shall not see my daughter any more."

That would indeed be the end. Certainly, once they turned eighteen they could do exactly as they pleased, but Kim would not willingly turn her back on her family, not even for him. Come Tuesday they would only have thirteen years. The ties that bound her to him couldn't be as strong as blood, especially considering how tightly knit the Possible family was. If her father told her that it was over between her and Ron, she was going to honor that, even if it meant severing a relationship that he considered the most wonderful thing in his life.

Oh, he would take Kim over his own parents any day of the week. What they had was too important to him, though such a thought filled him with shame. Honor thy Father and thy Mother was in his Holy Scriptures as well. Be that as it may, though, his love for Kim was beyond that, something he would risk even damnation for. Like it or not, his family was most definitely no 'close-knit.' It was far from dysfunctional but he still felt like he could leave tomorrow if he had to.

Or could he, without Kim?

She was the source of all the extremes in his life. She lifted his soul, but she also led him nearly to death on several separate occasions. She gave his life meaning, but also sent him into the depths of despair when he realized just how much he cared for her. She was the source of his strength, yet his greatest weakness.

He was also deathly scared for Kim's safety. There was absolutely no way to know how much she had. He held onto the faint hope she hadn't really had much and it was her inexperience with drink and her tiny stature that left her so inebriated. Then again he knew that if she had too much the alcohol could reach toxic levels, making her very sick or even killing her.

Ron didn't even consider how much he might have had. He took Kim's warning to heart and only had one canned soda he opened himself, planning to down plenty of caffeine free drinks at Bueno Nacho afterwards, knowing he would be safe there. He just never suspected that somebody was topping Kim's drink off in secret.

In hindsight, maybe her writing "KP" on her cup with a sharpie had been a bad idea after all. Everyone else had been doing it, since just about everyone was drinking out of those non-descript red plastic cups.

They really should have gone to the dance club anyway. Sure, the same thing could potentially happen there, but the crowd was certainly a lot less wild and the establishment kept pretty tight control of who was served beer and mixed beverages. It took two days to get the 'underage' stamp off the back of their hand every time they went.

He realized just how thirsty he really was as he tried to hear what was being said in hushed tones in Kim's darkened room. He imagined, over and over what her Dad was going to look like when he came down those stairs. It was going to happen sooner or later since he couldn't fathom her Mom allowing him to remain in the room as she undressed her and put her to bed. When that happened the real fireworks would begin.

The still-dominant immature side of his mind thought that it was such a shame this wouldn't come from them getting caught making love. At least that would have been a wonderful last act of their relationship rather than Kim being sick and him waiting distraught outside of her room. Only he knew then the retribution would have been much more swift, the horrible things the man had threatened all the more likely.

The whispering had stopped and he steeled himself, ready for the inevitable. Take it like a man he told himself over and over. A shadow fell on the black ironwork steps and his heart started racing all over again. The urge to flee became almost overpowering.

Take it like a man.

As expected, James Possible was walking down the steps alone, quietly closing the hatch behind him, also shutting the door halfway down, turning the knob so the latch didn't make a sound. Slowly he turned toward him, time slowing down as he did so.

There wasn't the look of fury he expected on his face. Instead worry was etched there, making the man look so much older than his forty-four years.

"Ronald, we need to talk." He said quietly, motioning downstairs.

Silently he thanked Kim's mother. Apparently she had somehow convinced her husband to deal with this calmly, perhaps telling him to treat Ron as an adult instead of a misbehaving child. With as much courage as he could muster he followed the elder Possible down through the sitting room and into the family room. Finally he stood there, waiting for the inevitable.

His heart nearly stopped when James reached for him but instead of being bodily dragged around the house the man caught him up in a ferocious hug. After a few minutes he let the stunned boy go.

"I'm so sorry Dr. P. This is all my fault. I should have never asked Kim to go to that party."

"Ronald, listen to me. This is not your fault. I don't even think this is Kim's fault. I don't want you feeling bad about this in any way except to be worried about her. You did the absolute best thing you could have possibly done in this situation."

"I did?"

"Yes. The moment you realized Kimmie-cub was in trouble the first thing you thought of was to call us. If it had been worse then maybe you should have called an ambulance, but I don't think she's nearly that bad." He reached for him and crushed his shoulders again. "I can't tell you how much that sort of thing means to us, all of us. It means the faith we have put in you with our daughter has been well founded.

"I've always feared something like this can happen. Now, I won't know until she gets over this and we can talk to her what really happened so for right now all we're going to do is make sure she's okay."

"Is she okay?"

"Her mother seems to think so. Kimmie's never had anything more than a sip of beer or a glass of wine, so she has no idea how something stronger will affect her. I just can't say how much it means that the first though you had was to call us. I've always worried that somebody would try to take advantage of this kind of situation. Instead you were more worried about her than trying to do that or to try and cover this sort of thing up."

"Is KP in trouble?"

"Maybe. That depends on what she tells us. Personally, I don't think she would willingly drink like that. What can you tell me about what happened?"

"Well, we got there and danced a lot. We tried talking with our friends but the music was so loud we had a hard time doing that."

"Was there drinking going on there?" He asked, his face still showing signs of his worry.

"I saw some of the guys with beers, but I assumed they brought them themselves. The only things being served at the snack table were bottled pop and punch, maybe a couple canned drinks. That's what I had. Sir, Kim even told me not to drink anything we didn't get ourselves and swore off the punch in case it was spiked."

"Good, that sounds like my Kimmie-cub. You sure you never saw anyone putting anything in her drink."

"No sir, I'm sorry, I should have had he back better. I was just too into the fun. I guess I should have paid more attention."

James put a hand on his shoulder. "Son, there's nothing you could have done differently. You've never been a part of that scene so you just didn't know. I would have much preferred you went out on one of your usual dates, but I'm not upset with you about this. I know you love her too much to put her into some kind of danger the two of you don't know how to handle."

"Believe me, I'm never going to a party again."

"Ronald, you're seventeen, I don't think that's a very realistic thing to say. Just learn from it and be more careful in the future."

Anne came in the room carrying a small bundle.

"How is she." James asked, beating Ron to the question.

"Kimmie's asleep. Ron, I don't think she's going to be in any kind of shape to go to services with you in the morning."

"It's okay, Mrs. Dr. P. As long as Kim's alright."

She nodded and pulled him into a hug as well, letting him know she felt the same way about his decisions that evening.

"Ronald, are you sure you're okay to ride home? I can drive you if you want, it's okay for your bike to stay here." James said.

"I'm good. Like I said, the only thing I had was out of a can. Tell Kim I'll call her in the morning." He said, turning toward the door.

"You'll do no such thing." Kim's mother said. "On the outside chance they might have slipped something in your drink, I'll make up the couch for you." She handed him the bundle. It was one of his t-shirts and some shorts. "You really should have left the bike there. It may be off of Kim, but the smell is on you and if you get stopped, that's all it would take since you're under age."

"I really think I should go. My parents…"

"Ron, I've already called them and explained everything. They're not upset and they agree with me. Now go to the downstairs shower and get yourself cleaned up while I get a pillow and some blankets for you."

Kim's parents watched him go, both of them thinking how much they really loved the boy.

James was also thinking about how he would hurt the person that did this if he ever found out who it was…and that he would bring Ronald along to help.

Kim didn't know where she was when she woke up from a dreamless sleep. She didn't feel the least bit rested and her head was pounding furiously. Her mouth tasted awful and she could smell her own sweat. A sudden wave of nausea almost claimed her but she was able to hold on. It slowly dawned on her she was in her own room, the blinds down on her windows, cutting off the pale moonlight outside.

She reached for her touch-lamp and tapped it three times, turning it on to full power. The meager bulb that normally was just enough to see by was now brighter than the sun. She hastily tapped the brass base a few more times, cycling through the settings until it was on as low as possible.

Even the ghostly green numbers of her alarm clock seemed brighter than normal. It was just past four in the morning and she knew her body craved more sleep. Yet that would not come easily with the vice currently crushing her skull.

She swung her feet out of the bed, fighting back another wave of nausea. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was slow dancing with Ron at the party, alternately dancing with him and making out. Now it was early Saturday (Saturday?) morning and she was in her own bed, wearing nothing but her underwear.

Kim sat on the edge of the bed, holding her scalp. Her hair was still damp from sweat, though she didn't know if it was from the party or from her fitful sleep. Some part of her mind started wondering how she got into her home and into her bed. Who had undressed her?

What the hell had happened?

She noticed a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water on her nightstand. That told her it was likely her mother had put her to bed and was expecting her condition. The pieces started falling into place.

She had been drunk.

How that had happened she had no Earthly clue. She had been so careful to get her own drinks, to the point she knew she was going to be ferociously thirsty afterwards. The party had just been so much fun, at least what she could remember of it. She recalled giving Ron a hickey as they danced.

Oh lord! Had she actually done that? She must have been pretty far gone by that point. It was something they teased each other about from time to time, but 'tagging' each other wasn't something they had seriously considered.

After fighting with the cap for a few minutes she finally managed to get four of the little green capsules out, taking the maximum dosage and draining the glass. Hopefully that would be enough to dull the throbbing that seemed to start at her forehead and spread all the way across her scalp. Somehow even her hair hurt.

With some difficulty she managed to change into her regular night clothes, not wanting to chance anyone besides her mother seeing her go downstairs to the bathroom in the fancy black underwear. By the time she got in there she couldn't hold it any more. What little was in her stomach decided it was much better off outside. It didn't help the last time she had hurled was helping her Mom at the Medical Center, the thought of an exposed human brain made her retch all that much more. At least by the time she finished what she came for and washed her face she felt somewhat better. Only then she realized she would have to take a couple more ibuprofens, considering they hadn't even had close to enough time to be absorbed.

As she carefully shut the bathroom door she heard a soft voice. "Kimmie?"

"Mom… I'm so, so sorry, I didn't…"

"Shhhhh. Just go back to bed and try to get some sleep. We'll all talk about this in the morning."

"But Ron…"

"Ron is just fine. He's downstairs on the couch right now." She reached out and gently but firmly gripped Kim's shoulder as she started to turn that way. "No, I don't think you would be very good company for him right now."

"Daddy's not going to kill him, is he."

"No, he's not. Ron made all of us very proud last night. The moment he realized what happened to you he called us. Now, go back to bed young lady." Even in the dim light of the hallway she could see her expression brooked no argument."

"Yes Ma'am." She slumped a little. At least getting some of the stuff out of her made her head a little better.

Kim mounted the stairs, worried sick what her boyfriend thought of her now.

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