I awoke early in the afternoon and found myself unable to return to sleep. No matter how much I fidgeted and repositioned myself, I could never get comfortable enough to drift back into even a light slumber. Eventually, I sighed and hauled myself out of bed, groaning at the mixed sensation of very drowsy and wide awake that plagued my body. I wandered into the living room to notice that the boy I had taken in the night before was awake and sitting upright, staring expressionlessly at the wall.

"Hey, did you sleep well?" I asked, approaching him.

He snapped his head in my direction at the sound of my voice. He gazed at me shyly with his wide, childish eyes, but didn't give me a response.

"Not going to talk to me?" I guessed. After another long pause that basically answered my question, I continued. "Can I see your back?"

The boy didn't move as I moved behind him to examine his wounds. Most of the scratches that striped his bony backside in a disorganized manner appeared small and mostly healed, but a few cuts on his lower back were rather long and a deep red. Worried that they might be infected, I made a quick trip to the bathroom to retrieve a tube of disinfecting cream and brought it back to the boy.

"This is going to sting," I warned as I squirted a tiny portion of the substance onto my finger. The boy gasped as I lay a hand on his shoulder and pushed him slightly forward to slip my other hand down his back to smear the disinfectant onto one of his cuts.

As soon as I rubbed the substance onto the boy's cut, he screamed and thrust himself away from my touch, twisting himself off the couch and whacking his side on the coffee table before scurrying into a corner and curling into a tight ball.

"Whoa!" I barked, shocked by the speed at which everything happened.

The boy was shaking in the corner, sniffling. This time, I was almost entirely sure he was crying. I approached him slowly, and I was surprised to finally hear his voice.

"No…" he muttered. "No…I'm sorry. I'll be good. Please don't hurt me…"

"I'm not trying to hurt you," I assured him.

The boy continued to utter pleas in a whisper, his voice becoming shakier with each sentence. "Please Father, don't hurt me. I'm sorry."

"Father?" I echoed, confused. "I'm not your father."

"No…please…"

At this point, I became doubtful that he was even listening to me. Curiously, I tried once again to read his mind. I closed my eyes and focused with every part of my brain on the one next to me. The vision that appeared in my head was hard to make out. All I saw was what looked like concrete with reddish brown stains splattered about. I had a sickly feeling that the spatters were plasma, and I heard a booming voice scream: "CHUCK! I told you not to let the horses loose! I told you a billion times!" The scary outburst was quickly followed by the boy's terrified, shaky voice: "I'm sorry, Father! I didn't mean it! Please don't hurt me!" The monstrous voice responded with: "It's too late for sorry. And you know damn well I'm going to hurt you!"

I blinked furiously and broke the connection. I was horrified by the daydream I had witnessed…or, was it a flashback? The latter possibility scared me, and I wondered if the reason for this boy's behavior was because he was abused, likely by his own father. His father...that booming voice…it mentioned a name, quite possibly the boy's name.

"Chuck?" I muttered.

The boy snapped his head in my direction, his wide eyes piercing mine. Tear streaks striped his face, and his eyes were glossy from crying.

"Is that your name?" I asked.

The boy's lip quivered before he nodded his head. He sniffled, and another tear rolled down his wet cheek. I kneeled beside him, lowering to his level as to look less intimidating.

"It's okay," I whispered. "Don't cry, alright? I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help you."

Chuck's shaking hands balled into fists around the legs of his torn jeans. His gaze moved behind me, and I followed it to the raccoon, which lay in a lump on my sofa. I pushed myself to a stand briefly to retrieve the stuffed animal before squatting on the floor again and handing it to Chuck, who took it gratefully and hugged it to his chest.

"I need you to trust me on this," I said softly, though in a slightly firmer voice. "I need you to let me help you."

Chuck nodded and wiped his face with the back of his hand. I helped him off the floor and back onto the couch. He buried his face in his raccoon and hissed whenever I applied disinfectant to his back, prompting a brief apology from me as I tried to be as gentle as possible.

"Okay, you're done," I announced, capping the tube and laying it on the side table.

Chuck released a long breath that I wasn't even aware he had been holding in. He glanced up at me with less terrified eyes, and then his stomach growled.

"Hungry?" I guessed. "I can make you something."

He nodded gratefully, and I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I never had much in the way of food lying around, but I did manage to scrounge up a package of bread, a can of peanut butter and a jar of jelly. After a few minutes of preparing a PB&J sandwich, I delivered it to Chuck back in the living room. As soon as I set the plate down on the table, he dropped the raccoon, grabbed the sandwich and devoured it messily.

"Easy," I warned. "You don't want to make yourself sick."

Chuck ignored me and continued to wolf down the sandwich, seemingly not even waiting to chew it. Once he had finished, he lay across the bed and picked his raccoon plush back up.

"My name is Steve, by the way," I declared. I probably couldn't have been more random with that statement, but I was eager to let him know.

"I'm Chuck," he muttered, even though he had already confirmed it with me.

I nodded. "Is there anything else I can get for you, Chuck?"

Chuck paused, as if in contemplation. I quickly checked my watch and stared at it in surprise.

"Wow, time flies fast," I observed. "I have to go to work."

"Work?" Chuck whispered.

"I promise I'll only be gone a few hours," I said, starting toward my room to change into my uniform. "Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you?"

Chuck remained silent as I half-closed my bedroom door and removed my clothes from last night, then slipped on my white uniform. I tied up my long dark hair and gathered it into a hairnet, then lay my tall chef's hat on top.

"I'll take that as a no," I decided as I strode to the front door. "I'll be back at eleven, okay?"

He gave me no response; he merely stared at me as I sauntered to the front door and wandered outside, leaving him alone in the safety of my apartment.