Sorry for the delay, this one just wasn't as easy to write as I thought it would be :) Thanks to all for reading and special thanks to all who review! Let me know what you think, please?
Do not own, make no money.
Chapter 11: William And Joe
Craig felt the fight drain out of him as the car turned a corner and the roof of the Mercer house finally disappeared. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window next to him and wiped at the tears that had slipped down his cheek. He didn't know the people he was trapped with, and he didn't trust what was happening. His body shivered under his sweat shirt, but the car was warm. The fears that had overwhelmed him just after his mother died seemed to bite into his insides now, seeping into his legs and arms, making them feel like dead weight hanging off of him.
"My name is William Frustum." The man sitting next to Craig in the back of the car spoke calmly. "You're Craig, right?" He was trying to act casual, as if the situation they were in at that moment was normal, and well rehearsed. "How old are you Craig, twelve or thirteen?"
Craig knew he should be pissed at the remark but an aching was taking hold of him, one that he was familiar with, but still seemed odd to him. He wanted Bobby. This jerk didn't know how old he was, and from what Craig could remember he was talking in the same tone as his first caseworker, as if he were a stupid, small child with no concept of what was going on around him.
He turned away from William Fuckup and looked out the window of the car. It felt as if someone had slammed a bolder into his chest. He sucked in hard for some air and considered trying to open the door and jump, but he could see the lock had been engaged and was sure it was disabled so that he couldn't make that move.
"Thirteen I'll bet." William was digging himself in deeper. "Did your father give you those bruises son?" He asked the question, despite the fact that he had to know Craig wasn't going to talk to him. "It's against the law for a father to hit his son like that. No matter what your dad might have told you. You don't deserve to be hit like that." He went on, more words, more stupid, ignorant remarks about how his home life was obviously unhealthy and it was in his best interest to co-operate with them now, and they would make sure he wasn't hurt anymore. William went on about how Craig needed to tell them everything his father was doing to him, so they could get him and his father both some help. It sounded absurd. He didn't know about Craig's father, or the struggle that had led up to this very moment. The asshole obviously didn't know anything about Craig's history, or what was going on with his family. Someone had called this jerk and sent him down to pick up some kid for whatever trumped up excuse he could think of. Someone told him he was being abused in his home.
Craig wanted to tell this guy the mistake he was making. He wanted to tell him just how wrong he was, but there was no way Craig could talk to anyone about what had happened to him in the past several weeks, hell, he hadn't been able to talk to his own brothers without some kind of dramatc scene playing out. If he could make himself tell this man just the facts, maybe, just maybe they would see that what they were doing was wrong, that he needed to be home, with his brothers. Maybe the whole mess could be straightened out if he just told the facts.
There was quiet for a short few minutes, and then another voice boomed from the driver's seat. "You'll be fine young man. You will thank Agent Harris by the time this is over, for getting you out of such an unhealthy environment. Lord knows how much longer you would have lasted in that home." The man's voice was icy and cold.
Craig's young mind seemed to be sucked back in time, to his first experience with the case workers and the system he'd been dumped into back when he was six years old. His first foster home, and the fear he'd felt there flashed through his mind with sharp lines and vivid colors. The crowded bedroom and rules that no small child could possibly follow seemed to press in on him. The caseworker who stopped by and ignored the obvious abuse his first foster father had dealt out when one small sound was made, or the slightest movement slipped out. He'd learned quickly that he wasn't wanted anywhere, not really. He had been nothing but free money and any inconvenience that he might cause by actually having any needs was quickly dealt with by a sharp blow; his case worker didn't want to be bothered with the finer details of the situation she'd dumped the boy in, she was satisfied just knowing that the kid was in a home and not an issue to deal with on a daily basis.
These men in this car were no different than that first caseworker. Maybe it wasn't entirely their fault. It was a job for them and nothing more. The well rehearsed words and tone of voice that William let spill so casually sounded the same as too many others he'd heard when he was little, especially when he was in St. Vincent's. It must have been a part of the training they went through.
He remembered his mother complaining in recent years that she had new co-workers that seemed to be carbon copies of each other. They all used the same talk and the same voice when they spoke to their charges. The youngsters they were supposed to be looking out for seemed to be nothing more than a number to them, and they didn't care about how they had ended up where they were. She said it seemed they wanted to deal with the children as little as possible. It pissed her off and she was getting tired of it.
So here he was now, just another kid they thought needed to be written off as a lost cause, and no matter how much of the truth he tried to relay to them, their ears would shut him out. He wanted to scream out or hit something. He wanted to do something, anything, but his body was stiff and rigid, he could only sit there and stare out the window while panic grew inside, chilling him so that he shivered, yet raising a heat from somewhere deep inside enough that sweat coated him from head to toe.
"Leave him be Jim." William spoke calmly. "This is hard on him, we know that." Again, he used that tone that dripped with pity for the fourteen year old sitting next to him in the back seat, not that he knew he was fourteen. He knew nothing about Craig, or his family, or his life. He was a bigger asshole then Jim, whoever the hell Jim in the front seat might be. At least Jim didn't pretend to care about anything that was going on; his voice had given that away. He thought this was just a job, and whatever they did was earning a paycheck, screw the fact that it was hurting someone.
"Come on Craig, relax, it's not as bad as it seems. I promise you that." William continued talking. "I've dealt with a lot of kids in the system and I promise I will make sure you are placed in a safe home."
That statement seemed to explode inside Craig's head. Placed in a safe home? Who the hell did he think he was? He was accusing his brothers of hitting on him, and not taking care of him, when the truth was Bobby had been nothing but good to him.
Okay, Bobby spanked him sometimes, he'd spanked him that very day, but he only did that if Craig pushed him to it, and for some reason Craig just seemed to feel the need to push him, despite knowing that his brother would eventually break. It didn't matter to him; Bobby wasn't hurting him when that happened. It wasn't as if he was raising a fist to him, or breaking bones or putting bruises on him. He acted as if he didn't want or like spanking him either. The two of them were still learning how to deal with each other; Craig knew that, he could understand it because of the conflict that seemed to rage inside of him so often. At least Bobby knew he was there and cared enough to do something, even if it was difficult for both of them.
Bobby wasn't used to being a parent, he was used to being a brother, and his brothers fought with each other all of the time. Smacking at each other and hitting. It was strange making a transition like the one that had taken place between him and his oldest brother. No matter what though, Bobby made him feel safe, and he had come for him, he'd killed Sweet to get him back, and he'd come after him when Adam had stolen his freedom. Bobby had cared enough to come for him more than once, and he still hadn't talked about leaving town, leaving Craig behind like he'd feared. It was starting to look like he'd planned on sticking around and maybe being a father. Yes, Craig knew Bobby was more than just his brother. Bobby had told him he was his father; he wanted to be his father. He wanted him, period, and it felt good to feel wanted, to feel as if he had a parent. He wanted his father at that moment.
"Craig, you haven't been in school for over a month now. That's a problem. You have been in the hospital as well, with injuries that are very suspicious." William had been talking the whole time, but these words caught the boy's ears and his attention. "Can you talk to us about what has been going on? There will be formal charges brought against whoever it is that has done this to you, but you have to be honest with us. We can get you help, and maybe get some help for your father as well."
Craig felt confused. They knew he hadn't been in school, they knew he'd been in the hospital, and what had been wrong with him, but they didn't know the details on how he had gotten there? It didn't make any sense. They had to have talked to people to know that much, or seen files from the police, or the hospital, or even maybe the District Attorney's office.
They had to know that what had happened to him had nothing to do with his brothers, but rather a result of Adam Mack's warped sense of right and wrong. It was their job to find out the facts, that's what his mother had always done. What did they do, talk to his doctor and only listen to part of what he said? Did they bother talking to the police at all? Was it possible that they were so irresponsible that they'd take one man's word over any of the facts? They came to their own conclusions what the problem was, and how he'd ended up with the kind of injuries he did wasn't important to them. If that wasn't important then they wouldn't bother listening to him no matter what he said.
Craig shook his head slowly. "I'm not talking to you." He turned away from William. He needed Bobby. He didn't know what he was supposed to do right then. Usually he would just keep his mouth shut but it seemed the meds were melting away the remainder of the numbness that had engulfed him the past few days. The little bit that remained, the left over defenses that he'd managed to tuck away in the back of his conscious brain, were crumbling. He felt tears stinging at his the back of eyes, the feeling of falling seemed overwhelming and he thought he was going to throw up. "I want to go home."
"You are not going to be going back there for a very long time Craig…" William started in again, but a buzzing started to hum in Craig's ears, blocking out the words. The boy wiped the fresh tears falling now and turned further away from the man next to him. William continued talking, but the words were faint against that buzzing. He lifted his eyes and watched as the buildings on the street slipped past him, flashes of color blurred by tears. His brain started screaming at him from the inside. "I want my brothers." He barely got the words out through the stress building in his throat. "I want to go home."
William went on talking as if he hadn't heard the words. Craig watched as the residential neighborhood gave way to the throughways leading downtown. He watches as the homes morphed into small shops and stores before the structures started growing into multi-story office buildings lining the streets. Parking garages tucked in between skyscrapers; blacktop and concrete bedding walls of green luminous glass looming above him casting reflections off of each other.
Craig's vision seemed to cloud around the edges as the car pulled into the entrance of an unfamiliar parking garage. It didn't feel right, he knew that. This was not the right place. This was not the offices of Social Services. This was not where his mother had worked. This was a courthouse, and not one that he'd ever been too before. He felt his body stiffen up. Where were they taking him?
Jim parked the car on an upper level, where the daylight seemed to be blocked out by empty, cold cement that stretched out forever. The doors unlocked and the engine died. Craig could hear his own breathing, hard and quick. William got out of the car on his side as Jim climbed out of the front. Both met just outside of the door next to Craig, who shrank towards the interior of the car as it opened slowly; he didn't look up at either of the men but he felt them there, looking in at him.
"Come on Craig; don't make this harder than it has to be, please? Get out of the car and we can get inside, where it's warm. Are you hungry? We can order some pizza, how does that sound?" William was still using that hollow sound of pity that was so well practiced.
Craig fixed his eyes on the door on the other side of the seat. He wondered if he could be quick enough to make it out the other door before the men caught hold of him. Maybe he could make a run for it, the only problem was the direction he'd be running would take him deeper into the parking garage, and he was sure William and Jim would catch him. He felt as if his muscles were moving too slow, as if his mind was stuck in slow motion, and that would hinder his attempt at escape. The idea of going inside the courthouse left him with the feeling he was being locked away somewhere and it frightened him more than anything else. He'd expected the office where Evelyn had worked, he'd been there before, it was a familiar place, and there was bound to be familiar people there. He was surprised these men didn't know about his mother, or him. It was possible they were out of another office, most likely that was the case or Craig would have known them, he was certain.
"We don't have time for this." Jim reached in, grabbed hold of Craig's left arm and pulled.
Craig's muscles stiffened up and he tried to pull free of the grasp pulling him towards the open door. It did not good. He was on his feet, with both men gripping onto his arms in a matter of seconds. He didn't try to pull away; he knew it would do no good. They pulled him across the concrete, their steps echoing off the vast emptiness surrounding them. Craig half wondered why there were no other cars, no people anywhere.
They entered an elevator at the end of the garage. Once the elevator door closed the air seemed to stale and a hit of mold hung thick in the air. Craig felt his breathing hitch slightly as his chest twisted around more tears. His vision blurred with more tears as the doors opened and he was pulled through them quickly. Jim let go of his left arm, but William still held on tight. They walked down a long empty hall way, the tile under their feet sent out a series of thuds that bounced against the paneled walls differently than the echoes in the garage. The sounds were flat and soft.
Jim opened a door to their left and held it open for William to push Craig through into a small office with a reception window on the wall furthest from the door, a heavy looking steel security door with no handle visible loomed next to the window, looking menacing to the fourteen year old who suddenly felt as if he were about to disappear from the rest of the world. Why would Children's Services bring him to a place like this? He wasn't being arrested, was he? That's what it was starting to feel like. He was being arrested and was going to end up in Juvi and he hadn't done anything wrong.
William pulled him to stand next to the door with no handle while Jim walked up to the glass and flashed an I.D. at the woman on the other side. Not a word was spoken, but a loud electrical buzz sounded and the door moved open, inward. William pulled Craig through into a hallway of concrete floor painted green with a cement block wall. Doors lined them on both sides. William stopped at one about halfway down the hall and pushed it open. Craig recognized the kind of room he was in. A table set in the middle with metal folding chairs lining both sides. A large mirror ran along one wall, and that was all that was there. William pulled a chair away from the table and dropped Craig into it not so gently. Craig felt his arms cross his stomach and hug tight. He shivered from the chill in the room.
"Do you want some pizza?" William still used the calm, condescending voice, but his actions looked mechanical, "How about a soda?"
Craig didn't answer. His eyes found the edge of the table top and took in the sight of the scratches and nicks that marked the surface. He felt more tears falling and couldn't stop the sob that escaped.
"It's okay Craig." William sat down next to him and looked at Jim. "Why don't you go get him a soda?" He asked.
Jim stood in the open door and sighed. "Yeah, sure, I'll do that. I'll get the files too and we can get started." He sounded pissed about something.
"Why don't you calm down Jim? This is going to be a long day, and we may as well make it as easy on him as we can, right?" William kept his body turned towards the door. "Just get him the soda please?"
Jim walked out without saying another word, pulling the door closed hard behind him. The loud crack of the metal door hitting the frame caused Craig to flinch slightly.
Craig's mind was starting to play the game again. He'd seen Jack being arrested. What if all of his brothers had been arrested? What if they were all going to jail and he was going to be put in Juvenile Detention and he'd never see any of them again? What if he was taken far away and put into foster care again, or locked up at St. Vincent's like he had been when he was little.
"Where's my brother Bobby?" He asked the question before he realized it. He didn't peal his concentration off of the table to look at William.
"Craig, you are not going home, at least not until you have talked to us and told us what has been going on there. Where are your parents?" William asked.
Craig shook his head. "Why don't you look that up in my file?" He asked.
"What file?" William asked.
"You are the dumbest son of a bitch I have ever met." Craig muttered. "Go fuck yourself." His mind was ping ponging back and forth from anger and dread and other indescribable states in between. His lungs seemed to be fighting to breathe. "Where the hell is my brother?"
"He's not coming for you. He doesn't know where you are and he's not going to be told. Not until we figure out what is going on." William let down his façade and a hint of loathing seeped out with his words.
Craig felt his blood freeze instantly inside his veins. He was being punished for being born. He knew it. It was what his father had done for years, and now he wasn't there, so someone else had to take on that task. His eyes flicked up to the mirror on the wall and he looked at his reflection. His life was never going to be normal. He was never going to be with his family again, and he was always going to be alone.