Derek Samson

I looked in my visor at a light. I only had Jesse and David left to drop off. They were pushing eachother back and forth good naturedly, getting rougher by the minute. "Hey, cool it back there, huh?"

"Yes, mommy. You take such good care of us, mommy. We love you, mommy." Jesse's eyes were widened in mock innocence. I smiled, David laughed.

Jesse looked over at David and forced him down on the seat, holding him there and making kissy faces at him. I was about to tell Jesse to back off, but David smirked at him and said, "Get your goodies somewhere else J, I'm straight."

"Unfortunately." Sighing exaggeratedly, Jesse sat up, David following suit. I turned my attention back to driving.

Jesse leaned forward inbetween the front seats, batting his eyelashes at me. "How 'bout you, Derry?"

I glanced at him briefly, "Come on, man. I'm driving."

"Are you saying my sexiness is getting to you? I didn't know I was..." He slid a hand along my thigh. "...Distracting you," I smirked, trying not to laugh. Then I turned and grabbed the back of Jesse's head, pulling him forward and giving him a smack on the lips before tossing him into the backseat. "Wooooh! Derek's a sexy beast! I love you now."

I pulled up into the driveway of a brick one story ranch style house, unlocking the doors. "See you tonight, J. Try to stay outta trouble 'til then, huh?"

"Bye, mom. Bye, YOU OOFTA SEXY MONSTER!" Jesse grabbed David's straight brown hair, licked his cheek, then hopped out of the car and bounced up his walkway. He waved before opening his front door, stepping inside, and closing it behind him.

I turned and looked back at David, quirking an eyebrow. "Oofta?"

He looked at me soberly, nodding his head a bit. "Oofta."

I looked back at him just as solemnly, nodding once. "Oofta."

It was quiet for a few minutes, just the humming of the car engine and the wind blowing gently into the windows. I snorted and we both burst out laughing. I pulled back out onto the street and waited for David to clamber into the passenger seat. He settled himseld down and lounged comfortably. I looked at him. He looked at me innocently."What?"

"You know what."

He sighed and put his seatbelt on, and I started driving away from Jesse's house. It was quiet in the car now, no Jesse to make us laugh or break the silence. But it was comfortable. David and I were like that together. We could enjoy a ride without talking and listening to the radio.

After a few minutes, I noticed David gnawing on his hand. "David, stop biting your nails." His knees were bobbing up and down. He took his left hand out of his mouth and replaced it with his right, chewing up the other hand. He wasn't talking. We were getting closer to his house, and a familiar ball of anger gathered in my stomach, a familiar feeling of protection ran through me. Often I or another of the gang found David, or were called to come pick him up from some random street because he had to get out of the house. His dad was a New York cop, a drunk, and David was an outlet for his frustration. His mom was always too high to give a shit, and if she did take an interest, it would be against David. David could fight with the best of them, but he never hit his dad back. He took it all. I always wondered why, but I guess when the person you're supposed to trust and take care of you betrays you, you don't know what to do.

I slowed the car down to a crawl infront of David's house. In the quiet, we could hear screaming coming from the house. David's eyes were haunted, looking from me to the house. I grabbed his shoulder, "You can just stay with me, David. You know I've got the space at my house."

He shook his head, swallowed, "No, I'm good." His voice was soft. David Corwin's voice was never soft; He was confident in himself. That is, until he came home. I always dropped him off last, so he wouldn't be embarassed infront of our friends. They wouldn't care, hell, they would feel sorry for him, but it's the principle of the matter. David didn't want anyone's pity. So I watched him slip out of the car, closing the door behind him. His back was straight as he trooped across the grass, and I thought that no matter how hurt and scared he was, he was brave.

When he reached the door, he fumbled for his keys. I'd watch him get in. I would wait outside for a few minutes before leaving, too, in case something happened. Because everytime I left him here and something happened, I felt like it was my fault. Like I wasn't protecting him like I should. So when the door opened, I watched him disappear inside, and a voice in the back of my head was saying "Don't go in there!" like it was a horror movie and the monster was hiding inside. In a way, I guess I was right. There was a monster hiding inside, but not the kind we usually hear about. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and I flexed my fingers, loosening my grip. It wouldn't help anyone to be angry.

I started driving away, excepting that today was going to be okay, when I heard shouting and a door slamming behind me. I looked into my visor, and it was to see David, running full out down the block, his dad behind him. I threw the car in reverse, opening the passenger side door. I held it open as I stopped and put the car into drive, my foot on the break only long enough for David to jump in and slam the door closed. Then the tires squealed, and we were gone. I didn't look at David, because if I did I knew I'd turn around and beat the shit out of his father. I just drove.

A little more than ten minutes later, we were at my place. I'd inherited my house and a well endowed trust fund the summer before, when my grandparents, mother, and father died in a car accident. I never thought about them. Don't get me wrong, I loved them to death. But I couldn't remember them. If I did, I'd stop, and I'd remember all the school plays they showed up to and playing football in the backyard with my dad or learning how to cook on weekends with my mom, and I would freeze. So I forgot, and I never thought about them, or their funeral, or my memories of them, and life went on.

It was two floors, tan with brown shutters and an oak door. I parked infront of the house and got out of the car, walking around onto the sidewalk and waiting for David. He stepped out and I pressed the lock button on my car keys, a loud beep from the car breaking the silence. David followed me up the four stairs to my doorway, waiting for me to unlock the door before walking in and going straight to the dark living room.

I locked the door and followed him. The sun was still up, and the rays coming in through the windows illuminated him enough for me to see a blossoming bruise on the side of his face and a fat lip. Some blood was smeared by his chin and mouth. He saw me looking at him and hung his head, hiding and ashamed. I walked over and sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. I leaned my head against his, pulling him tighter against me in a half hug. "It's alright, David. Don't worry, you're alright now. I'm here with you."

I felt him shake and wished I could take his pain away, even if it was just for a few minutes. David was one of those people who was never reduced to a pitiful mess or hiding in a corner while everyone else ran off to fight. He was confident and in the front line, always helping someone out who needed it or standing up for the under dog. He didn't deserve this. No one deserved this.

"He was waiting for me." I looked at David's profile, staring straight ahead. His eyes were shiny and he swallowed, trying not to cry. I was surprised he had said anything. He usually didn't want to talk about his home life at all. Other times, like now, if he said something about it, he wanted to talk about it. I didn't want to relive his horror with him; I didn't want to know what happened to David behind closed doors. But if he had to live through it, I could talk about it. I would talk about it.

"What happened?"

And he told me.