His head hurt like hell. The pain was so severe that he wasn't able to think about anything else. Even moaning hurt. He just laid still for another fourteen minutes before he tried to move his head again, hoping to find a more comfortable position. The pain in his head exploded and sent new waves of agony through his nervous system. That's it, I'm dying. He didn't die, but had to admit that he nearly wished to for a moment.
It took him many slowly deep breaths to calm down and ease the pain. The headache was still bad, but he tried to open his tired, heavy eyes. His eyelids fluttered. He tried for a few more minutes before he's able to open them. But there wasn't much to see, it's dark around him.
Awareness grabbed him and he feels the pain in his arms, legs, his body. His arms and legs were tied to each other. The breaths he took didn't bring much fresh air in his lungs. He realized that he was in a trunk again. The aftereffect of the drugs hit him hard and he began to panic. His breathing fastened and his whole body started trembling. He moved his legs up, in desperation to open the trunk.
There wasn't any way to get out there. His panic caused more pain. Convulsions shook his head and his body. He screamed until his voice died. He was half conscious, when the car stopped.
The trunk was opened and bright light shined in his eyes. His head felt like a volcano that would erupt a new dimension of pain soon. Strong hands grabbed his almost naked body and threw him to the hard asphalt ground. His head and his ribs collided with the ground. The pain was too unbearable for him to take. It's bad enough to make his heart skip many beats, before the unconsciousness pulled him finally back to the pain free darkness.
2,400 miles away from Evan was his older brother still reading the diaries he had found. His emotions changed from anger to sadness to disbelief to hate and so on. He was reading about the torture his baby brother had gone through since he was just a little child. Hank had been shocked about the first words in his brothers diaries...
Dad's always mean. Doesn't give me much food, always hungry and thirsty. Don't have friends, Dad says no! Makes me stay under the house, when Henry isn't home. Dark there, scares me. Hurts me with shoes or hits with his hands. Says I'm useless. Says nobody loves me, tell him Henry does, but Dad says Henry just says so, because he doesn't want to be mean. I don't know, maybe better if I don't wake up again.
….but to his horror that has been the harmless beginning. There was much more. As Evan had become older he started writing much more detailed. Hank was raging. How was it possible that their mother had never noticed what was going on? How had Eddie been able to do this to a sweet innocent child, not to mention his own son? And why had he himself never found out about it? Under the house meant obviously in the basement. Their basement that had always been dark.
Evan had written about the beatings, the starving, dehydration, psychological abuse, the things he had to do for their father, jobs that were too hard and exhausting for his young weak body.
Hank took a deep breath, when he was sure that he found the first hint that could help to find his brother.
It's worse, Dad took me to friends. Let them hit me, had to do work for them. One made me wash him in the tub. It didn't feel right, but Dad made me to. Some only hit and kicked me, others wanted me to rub them. Feels wrong.
Dad says we go to friends somewhere far, too risky here. Don't want to go, but he makes me to. Says we go to Washington, the state not city. Didn't know there were both. Said Seattle or so...something with a sea.
Seattle sucks. Dad's meaner than at home. His friends here, too. Have to clean for them, sleep in barns or basements. So hungry, feel sick. One cut me on my chest. Scared he hurt my heart. Beats strange. We'll go to another place soon. Don't want. He says it's not so far. Scapuse or so. Oregon.
The friends here even worse. Make me sleep outside in the cold. Only good thing is snow, can eat it, when I'm thirsty. Not much snow. Fever. Sleepy, can't. Make me bath with them or shower. Clean there toilets. Too much pain. Can't take it anymore, just want to die, but won't. Will leave in two days to Portland. Not far away.
Was wrong. Portland is very far. Not the one in Oregon. More than 3,000 miles I heard Dad tell someone. Don't know, if I can take more. They keep hurting me. Treat me like an unloved doll. Nobody smiles nice. One man smiled, but it was a mean smile, before he touched me, made me touch him. Where is Henry? Miss him. Dad says we drive home soon, but come back in a few months. Don't want to, but there's no way out. Dad said visit more friends then, makes me scared. Tried to be dead, but didn't work. Took razorblades to cut me, but it hurt so bad, couldn't finish. Dad was angry when he saw the blood. Kicked me till I was away.
We're driving home. Keeps torturing me. Says I'm not good enough, didn't work much and not good. Said makes me pay for it. Just want to be happy. Henry will make it better. Tell him all, when I come home.
Henry didn't have time. Too busy with school and his friends. Jealous he has friends. Nobody likes me. Mom says Dad makes me better, but he doesn't. Took her pills from the bath. Took a lot of them. Feel so sick now, but think it makes the pain go away. Want to go to heaven. I'm so sleepy, think I die soon. Good.
Hank was beyond shocked now. He was glad Evan had learned to write so early. He had taught him since he himself had went to school. He hoped that the diary had helped his little brother a little. Evan had just been 9 years old, when he had attempted suicide for the second time. How much pain must the kid had felt?
Dr. Lawson had tears in eyes, tears that were falling down on the diary. They ran an uneven line through his brothers words. Some letters almost vanished, others seemed to get bigger with the wetness.
He knew three locations he would go to now. He asked the young and attractive librarian for a map. She got it for him. "Are you okay, Sir?"
"Yes, why?"
"Well, your eyes are red." She said shyly.
"Oh, just some bad allergy. Thanks for the concern."
She left and he started figuring out which places his brother and his father had went to. Okay, there was Seattle, WA, then some place in Oregon. He wasn't quite sure about that one, because his brother didn't write it right. He opened his laptop and started to Google. The second place was probably Scappoose, OR. Okay the last one was Portland. Evan had written that it wasn't in Oregon. Considering the distance to the other Portland, he was sure that it was Portland, ME.
Okay he needed a way to get to Seattle fast. He searched for flights online and called to figure out, if there was a way he could get a ticket for them. He got one around 4.30 pm with Delta Airlines. It would be an over six hours flight, but that was the fastest way for him to get there. He grabbed his stuff and left the library.
It wasn't too long after, that he was on his way to the airport. He made sure that a rental car would wait for him in Seattle and waited nervously for the time to pass. He did some more research on the internet to find a hint where in Seattle his father had went to. He called several people for guestrooms, cabins, motels. But he didn't find anything. He tried to find out, if they had rented a car. And he was lucky. They had rented one with Emily's name.
Once he sat in the plane he felt exhausted and it didn't take long for him to fall asleep.
It was difficult to wake up. His head was still aching and his ribs hurt like hell, not to mention the rest of him. He was tied to a plain bed. No, make it chained. There was another chain above his stomach. He was hold tightly. There was no way to move. The room was dark and it was cold. Somewhere nearby was water dropping. Sounded like a sink. It was a terrible place. Not better than the ones he had been held before.
He hadn't time to think much. The light went on. Eddie, Emily and another man stood beside him. They had a bottle of whiskey with them. He pressed his mouth shut. It wasn't hard to tell what they were up to. Emily opened the bottle. She was now standing on the headboard, leaning over him. His father hit his elbow into his ribs and Evan couldn't help it and screamed in pain.
His mouth was open and Emily pushed the bottle down so hard that there was no other way than swallowing. He coughed, but she didn't took it away. He was unable to breathe, but Emily didn't stop. The liquid made him feel like drowning. He panicked, but she didn't take the bottle away until it was empty. She smiled.
Evan was drunken. He was sick. It was horrible. "Tell me about your brothers accounts."
"No, bitch!"
"Tell me about your brothers accounts." When he said 'no' again, she pulled another bottle through his lips and teeth and made him drink half of it.
"Still wonn tell ya." He slurred. The feeling of being drunken beyond his own control made his situation worse. It was harder to focus, almost impossible to think. He somehow knew that there was more than the alcohol. "No tell ya."
"Tell me about your brothers accounts." Emily said again.
He didn't want to tell them, but he couldn't fight her voice. Everything was blurry, he had no mental strength left. He told her the bank and about three accounts Henry had. Didn't want to. It made him sick, guilt washed over him and tears started running down his cheeks.
"Tell me about his savings and his password or pin-code."
"No waaaay. Neva."
She grinned evilly. "You will. Don't worry, you will." Emily pulled a syringe from her pocket and went beside the bed. "I think we just need some more horror to break you. I could just sedate you, if you'd change your mind now."
He shook his head. Dizziness and sickness mixed with fear and desperation. But he had already told her too much. He betrayed his brother and deserved to suffer. Wouldn't make difference anymore, Henry would find out what he had done and wouldn't be able to forgive him again. Yes, dead or alive, wouldn't make a difference.
The needle went through his skin into his vein. He felt the cold liquid running through his veins and it was just a couple of minutes later, when the monsters came back, when his mothers blood dropped down on him again. The dead touched him everywhere. They bite him, ate from his body.
Evan R. Lawson, CFO of HankMed, was again left alone in the darkness. But there was nothing more left than an almost empty figure. The drugs worked their way to his brain and it was harder for him to come back to awareness every time it wore off. Convulsions ran through his body. There was a noise, when another rib broke. But he was fighting his own horror. Too far gone to notice the new injury. Too far gone to notice the terrible pain in his back, too far gone to notice that he peed again and that the urine had a pinkish red color this time.