My life is pretty busy right now, and I have writers block... but enough with excuses! XD

I realize that I'm been going slower on this story than I did with 'NEVERMORE', and there's a reason behind that.

Nevertheless, the more reviews I get, the more motivation I'll have to write the next chapter! ;D

BAD KIDS

Chapter 3: Doctor, Doctor

"I don't know what else to do."

The phone was held between two pale, slightly shaking hands, the deep voice on the other end assuring the woman that it would be fine, that she didn't need to worry anymore because he was going to take care of everything. To most people, his words would've been empty promises, and maybe they were, but by this point, the woman was desperate and willing to do anything.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

The woman hung up the phone, stringing a long sigh to her being and flicking the light switch off as she left the room.

It had been a long day with even longer contemplations. At first, she was hesitant about the whole idea. After all, she knew her son wasn't crazy; he was just sad. But with all the problems he had everyday in school, there was no other choice. Something deeper than bullies tossing him around was occurring, and she knew what it might've had to do with - his father.

She recalled the nights after his father left that he had nightmares that were so terrible that he'd become physically sick, running to the bathroom to throw up his entire stomach, and sitting in there against the door until he cried himself to sleep. The woman would never forget all the times she picked up her son and carried him into his room again, tucking him in and lying there next to him just in case he had another nightmare.

Those were some of the lowest times in both of their lives, and every now and then, she still catches her son crying quietly. The throwing up had ended awhile ago, though, and just that was enough to restrain the woman from breaking down herself. She thought that maybe her son was finally getting better, finally healing.

It turned out, however, that she was very wrong. By the time high school came around, he was changing in ways that no one would call normal for a newly teenage boy. He somehow picked up an attitude along the way, and his most common phrase became, "I do what I want."

It scared the woman to see such a drastic transformation in her own child, whom she had tried her best to raise on her own. She had kept him out of trouble, protected him the best she could, and given him everything he ever wanted and more. So, why was he morphing into a monster? Why was the school calling to give her bad news every week? Why were his grades slowly dropping?

She knew one thing for sure: She needed to step in and stop the train before it crashed into the station. That's what she would do. Whatever it would take, she would gladly oblige.

"Alois," Alois' mother called him down from the bottom of the stairs, "we need to talk."

She heard a loud grunt of annoyance from upstairs and soon her son was stomping his way down the steps. "What?" He spat.

His mother repeated herself, motioning for them to go into the living room. Alois, who was unwilling in spirit, but willing in love, followed her.

The living room was awkwardly silent and dim... kind of like an interrigation room. Alois pulled the long sleeves of his grey shirt over his hands and placed himself lightly on the edge of the couch, gripping onto the cushion below him. An unreadable expression was planted on his face.

"Honey," his mother began, placing her hand on top of his, "I love you."

Alois was puzzled by the random statment, responding in a quizzical voice, "I love you, too, mom."

"I'm sorry that I've let this go on as long as I have." The miniscule smile she wore faded at the sound of her own words.

Her son was sluggishly shaking his head, not comprehending what she was getting at. "L-let what go on?"

"Everything." Was her simple answer.

Apparently, it wasn't enough of an answer for Alois, and he pulled away from her hand, becoming alarmed at their prediciment and the way her lips were curling themselves into a pout. Something inside him was screaming, "Just don't listen. Don't listen to the things you don't want to hear."

That's what Alois always did. When his teachers were speaking to their classes, he zoned out. When the principal was lecturing him, he tuned him out. It was easy, and it always worked for him. He learned over time that people would just give up on him after awhile and leave him alone. He was right when it came to everyone except for his mother. For some reason, she hadn't given up on him yet.

"I scheduled your first appointment for today."

Alois blinked wildly, realizing that he had blocked out everything she had been saying.

"Appointment? F-for what?"

"Therapy, honey."

At that moment, Alois felt his heart sink to the carpeted floor below his feet and there was a lump that had formed in his throat. He swallowed, scooting to the other side of the couch.

"W-what?" He spoke, unbelieving. "You think I'm crazy?"

His mother's mouth was agape, words flying like butterflies.

"No, Alois! I know you're not crazy!"

"Then why are you going to send me to a therapist? Mom!" The blonde boy sprouted from the couch, his whole body being taken over by a fit of insanity. Not only did he feel betrayed by the only person in his life that hadn't left him yet, but he felt like a bullet had met his chest, causing him to bleed out onto the floor and die like an animal.

The bad news was, he was still alive.

"I want you to stop hurting, Alois! I don't know what else to do!" His mother sprung up, too, trying to defend her reasons for getting him help.

"What makes you think I'm hurting?" Alois screeched. "I'm fine how I am!"

"No, you're not, Alois! I won't let you ignore yourself because I sure as Hell don't! I'm doing this for you because I love you! If I didn't, then I'd give up on you completely!"

"Why don't you? I wouldn't give a fuck!"

"Because I'm not like your father!"

Alois ceased the arguement, staring at his mother and noticing that she was close to tears, her almost identical eyes becoming teary and grey. He could fight and argue all he wanted, but if he made his mother cry, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

It dawned on him that he was being unreasonable. Sure, he had no desire to talk to a therapist or let anyone into his brain, but when he laid eyes on his mother, who he knew was doing all she should and was afraid of what he could become, that broke him. That murdered his meaning and there he was, white flag waving like his life depended on it.

"Momma, I'm scared." Alois' shoulders sagged, his head tilting forward to hide his fear from his mother. As much as he hated admitting it, the thought of having to be in a room with a complete stranger that has degrees in God knows what terrified him like nothing else. Even worse, he'd be forced to tell this person everything about him and his life, which seemed pretty impossible for someone that wouldn't even inform himself of what was going on in his world.

"I know, baby." The woman embraced her trembling son, squeezing him tighter than was humanly possible, and drawing circles on his back with her hand. Alois snuggled into the crook of his mother's neck, biting the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn't start sobbing uncontrollably... not in front of her, at least.

"Listen, Alois," his mother lifted her head, gazing into the boy's eyes, which were filling to the brim with horror. "There are a lot of things that you're not going to like... being told what to do, being urged to talk about things instead of ignoring them. It's going to be a new experience for the both of us, and I just want to let you know that I'll be here for you throughout it all. I wouldn't dare to abandon my own son."

Alois nodded, seemingly understanding what she was gettin at now, but still locking eyes with her and pouting all too innocently.

"You won't throw me away?"

"Never."

The boy had absolutely no idea what was going to happen that day, and while a million different things were running through his mind, he was truly focused on one thing: the therapist.

"Mom?" He asked while they were in the car on their way there. "Is it a she or a he?"

His mother couldn't help but laugh at the way he worded his question. "A he, honey... Dr. Faustus."

"Faustus? What a bizzare last name..." Alois thought to himself. "Then again, Trancy is a fairly bizzare name, too, so I guess I have no room to talk... I mean, think." He was mentally jabbing himself with a ballpoint pen when he noticed that he was indeed pondering far too much for his own good.

He couldn't help it, though. Intrigue set in as soon as they rounded the bend and pulled into the parking lot of a little, brick building with trees and shrubs surrounding it on all sides. It sort of looked like a cottage or a villa, but with a sign and places for multiple cars to park. Alois, sighed, all of a sudden growing nervous again.

His mother parked, taking the key from the ignition and glancing over to the passenger seat where her son sat, appearing to be on the brink of a panic attack. She instinctively let her hand extend to his cheek, and he flinched, suddenly opening the car door and stepping out. She sighed, repeating his action.

They walked up the cobblestone pathway that lead to the front door of the building, Alois surprisingly ahead of his mother, arms crossed and face hidden by his blonde locks. Out of habit, he pulled his sleeves down lower, coughing as he reached the dreaded door.

This time, he let his mother open the door, fearing that if he did it himself, something from inside would swallow him whole, devouring his soul in one bite. It sounded silly whenever Alois replayed the thought through his head, but at the time, he felt that anything was possible.

They stepped inside the small waiting area, which appeared to be dimmer than it probably should be. "But they're always like this." Alois thought. "Offices are always either lit up too brightly or darker than the outside world." Once again, he sighed, another thought coming to his mind: "They're always either freezing cold or extremely hot... it's chilly in here." He pulled down his sleeves again.

His mother rang a silver bell that was placed atop the desk where Alois swears the secretary or whatever should've been, and almost instantly, a voice called out from the back room, "I'll be right there!"

The voice was deep, sounding unapproachable and mysterious. Suddenly, Alois wondered if the therapist was good-looking or not. The man's appearance at the arch of the doorway confirmed it.

The therapist, Dr. Faustus, had jet black hair that was styled like nothing Alois had ever seen before. His skin was pale, but he didn't look sickly. Glasses were perched on his nose, and the structure of his face seemed like that of a male model. From there, Alois let his eyes drift downward, scanning his entire body from his modern sweater and black v-neck shirt to his black slacks and Italian shoes.

The boy didn't even realize that he was staring in awe, unbelieveing that a therapist could be so handsome, unaware that such beauty resided in a country-like building right off from the main highway...

... and then there was a hand extended to him, and his attention shot back to the man's face. It was his hand. Alois shook it, wobbling a bit on his feet, and nearly melting into the ground when he heard the man's voice better.

"I'm Dr. Claude Faustus."

Alois gulped, trying to straighten his horrible posture all at once and replied, "I'm Alois."

The doctor smiled at him, and Alois' heart felt like it was working through a marathon with all its erratic beating and booming. There was something about this guy... something...

"Nice to meet you, Alois."

At that moment, Alois knew some things were going to change. If they would be for the best or the worst, however, he had no idea.