Chapter One-Hundred and Forty-Three
Asher knocked on the Breakfast Club home, sighing as Claire answered. He noticed that she hadn't slept for days, and that she'd added on a little bit of weight, and had also been crying. "Is Thomas here?" He asked, offering the girl a hug.
She wrapped her arms around his torso, noticing that his build was so much like John's. "He's in the den." She stated, wiping her eyes as Asher let her go. "Is John okay?" She asked, looking up at the man.
He gave a sad smile, placing his hand on her shoulder. "He's not the best, but he's still alive."
She nodded, worried that John might have more going on that Asher didn't know about. "Is he still eating?"
He shook his head, dropping his gaze to his feet. "Sara, my girlfriend, is thinking about giving him a feeding tube if he doesn't start eating by tomorrow. But that's up to him for the most part."
Thomas patted Claire's shoulder as he noticed Asher in the doorway, stepping outside to speak to him. "What's the matter?" He asked, looking up at the taller man.
Asher looked Thomas in the eyes, knowing that if John was kept from Claire and his family much longer it would literally kill him. "John needs you guys." He stated. "He's getting sicker by the day, and he hasn't eaten in almost a week. I'm scared that if you keep him away much longer…" He didn't need to finish the sentence, Thomas knew what he was saying. John would probably die without the contact with his family, and each day that passed was only another step toward his death from starvation or possibly even suicide.
"We found out what happened with Clarissa." He sighed, looking up as Amelia and Jessop laughed while playing a game of tag. "It was a drunk driver."
Asher nodded, knowing how horrible it had been to lose his fiancée to a drunk driver when he was no more that twenty-five. "How is she?"
Thomas shook his head, remembering how frustrated she'd been at her physical therapy appointment the day before. "Better. She just needs more time."
"John asks about her every day when I check up on him."
"Do you think we could get guardianship back?" Thomas asked, his heart aching with the knowledge of the pain he'd caused John.
Asher smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think that's best."
John fought against Asher and Sara as she tried to insert a feeding tube into his nose. "No!" He screamed, kicking out against his uncle as he held his head in place. "NO!"
Sara cursed as John's nose began to bleed from the rubber tube cutting the thin skin inside of his nostril. "John. Stop it." She forced the tubing deeper into John's nose, waiting for him to swallow to make it go into his esophagus and into his stomach. "Swallow." She ordered, so frustrated with him that she didn't care that he was practically sobbing from what was happening to him. "Johnathan. So help me-" Before she could finish her sentence John swallowed, letting the tube into his throat. "Good." She smiled, brushing his ratted hair back, as she started the little pump to get food into him. "Relax, baby. It's over."
Asher pushed his body weight off of his nephew, brushing a stray tear from his cheek and whipping the blood from his mustache where his nose had bled. "I'm sorry Johnny."
"Fuck you to hell." John cried, wishing he could rip the tube from his body and be done with this. But he knew that would cause more pain than it was worth. "Both of you."
Asher's heart ached with his words, knowing that what little trust he'd gained from John had been nearly lost with this act. "Rest." He turned John's light out, taking Sara's hand as they left the room. "God, I hate this." He whispered, leaning on Sara as they took a seat on the sofa together. "I just hope he trusts me after this is over."
Sara nodded, knowing how hard Asher had worked for the thimble of trust he'd gained from his nephews. "He will. He just needs time." She smiled, letting him lean her back on the cushions as his emotions took over. She felt his hand slide under her blouse, his callouses from years of construction work rough on her stomach as he slipped his fingers into her old jeans to unbutton them. "I love you." She whispered, as she slipped his shirt off to show a thick scar over his stomach where he'd been grazed by a bullet.