Saturday

They tell him he's been asleep for five months. They call it being "in a coma", and they say it's from the concussion and trauma to the brain. Probably resulted from abuse and the death of his mother. He bites his lips and tries not to think about it. But they keep talking and taking tests and drawing blood and injecting him with pain medicines. They tell him that his mother was buried and they made her look really pretty. They tell him his father was buried across the site from her. He thanks them for that.

They tell him that, because he's been, eh, out of commission for five months that he's going to have repeat this school year. He tells them he's not going back. He tells them he's dropping out because he doesn't want to do it anymore. They look a little disappointed, but he really doesn't give a fuck anymore. Doctors run more tests, take more blood, fill his stomach with shit food that he eats only portions of. Fuck, he can't even finish a cup of chocolate pudding. He has no appetite.

The police ask questions. How long have you been abused? He replies in monotone, barely above a whisper half the time. Almost my entire life. Was it just your father or did your mother do it too? My mother tried to fucking save me from it. They feel ashamed for asking something like that. As they should be. He doesn't want to talk to them, though. There's only one person he does want to talk to. But he hasn't shown up yet. He's been awake a week and the one person he wants to see hasn't come around.

Naturally, this makes him quite… depressed.

He's awake for two weeks, and still no sign of Adam. Monte visits him on occasion, but even when he asks, the older male doesn't say anything of the redhead. Almost as if he's trying to ignore the topic of "where is Adam?". Every time he tries, Monte changes the subject or just says "I don't know". It irritates him. Badly. To the point where sometimes he won't even talk of anything else or have any interest in anything other than Adam.

When days like that come around, Monte tells him that he needs his rest.

Three weeks, no Adam. He's given up on asking since Monte won't tell him. He's barely eating anything, sleeping perhaps too much for his own good. Sometimes the kind nurses that tend to him will help him walk down the hall. He's been bedridden for five months, his muscles and joints don't really want to work properly at times. It used to be that he couldn't make it half way down the hall without being winded. But now he can make it down and back without exerting too much strain.

The nurse tucks him back into bed. There's a book on the side table, a small TV in the corner. His window opens to a nice view of Los Angeles, it lets in a lot of light. She says she'll be right back, but he doesn't really hear her. Where is Adam? Why hasn't he come to say hi? To make sure he's okay? Is it too much to ask for? Is he busy with school? No… He can't be. School's out by now. It's July; that's what they've told him, anyway.

When the nurse comes back in, he turns his head to talk to her for a moment. "Can you do me a favor?" He asks. She stops and looks at him before nodding. She has bright blue eyes and thick, curly black hair, freckles gracing her cheeks.

"Sure thing." She says. He fiddles with the hem of his blanket, staring down at it for a second. He's not sure if what he has in mind will work, but he can hope and pray can't he? 'It just the last time you hoped for anything, it didn't work, remember?' Shut the fuck up.

"Can you possibly get in touch with the Lambert's? They lived right next door to me…" He says softly. The nurse bites her lower lip for a moment, thinking briefly.

"I think we have them on record, if I remember correctly. Let me go check, and if I can find their number, I'll bring it to you." She says with a slight smile. He returns it, but only partially. She turns and leaves the room, and he sits in silence. He hopes that she can find the number. Maybe Monte can't tell him, but surely Adam's parents can, can't they? They won't be so cruel as to keep that kind of knowledge from him…

But maybe this is just more wishful thinking. He's not sure at this point. He looks out the window again, wondering if anything's changed. He doubts it. It's fucking Los Angeles. Things rarely change anymore. He sighs, looking back down at his hands. He blinks back tears, thinking of the things his hands have done and touched… He killed his father for killing his mother… He's held hands with an angel, touched an angel… He rests his head against the pillow, feeling a few tears slip and slide down his face. He wipes them away as the nurse walks back in.

"Here you go, Tommy," she says, handing him a piece of paper. He nods in thanks as she leaves again, and he reaches for the small phone beside the book on the side table. He dials the number with shaking hands, before holding it to his ear and listening to the soft rings. He breathes a little harder with each ring before there's a click, and a female voice on the other end.

"Hello?" He swallows the lump in his throat, but he can't stop his racing heart.

"H-hi, is this… M-Mrs. Lambert?" He can't help the stutter, either. He stutters when he's nervous. It's a bad habit he's been trying to break for years.

"Yes?" She sounds confused. "Yes this is, may I ask who's calling?" She sounds sweet.

"M-my name is Tommy J-Joe Ratliff, ma'am. I'm a friend of Adam's…" There's a smile he hears in her light little laugh, but it also sounds sad. Happy but sad? What?

"Hi, Tommy. How've you been?" She asks, and he sighs slightly, smiling a little bit. She sounds so, so sweet.

"Well, I have to say I've been better…" Well, not always. But he has been better than this before, that's true. It's just… He's not sure if she knows that little detail or not. He hasn't really been told much of anything other than the fact that the cops aren't going to pin his father's death as murder on his hands because it was considered self-defense for years of abuse. Or something like that. "But I'm doing okay." He finishes.

"That's so wonderful to hear. I'm… I'm sorry about what happened… to your mother, I mean." So, she knows Allison died. Okay… "I— we only know as much as the police allowed, but they told us that she died and you were in the hospital. But I'm glad to know you're okay." He smiles, feeling tears in his eyes. He hasn't been cared for or worried about like this by anyone other than his mom and Adam. Adam…

"Thank you, Mrs. Lambert—"

"Oh, honey, call me Leila, please." He laughs a little.

"Thank you, Leila. But, I have a question…" He trails off.

"Yes?"

"Umm… is Adam— is Adam home?" He stops talking after the question is asked; he barely breathes. He waits for Leila's response, and she seems hesitant. He gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment as she sighs over the line. He imagines her with her eyes closed, either leaning against a wall or sitting down in an armchair, rubbing her temple with her free hand.

"Tommy…" She sighs again. "Adam went to go live with his grandparents… Up in Washington. He left about two months ago. I'm really sorry…" Tommy lowers his gaze down to his lap, feeling the sting of tears welling it the corners of his eyes. They spill over and slip down his cheeks. Adam left?"

"W-what?" He barely realizes he's spoken until the word passes his lips. Leila sighs softly again.

"Adam went through a spell of depression. He wouldn't eat, slept most of the day. Sometimes he'd be up late at night and he'd just… Sit on his bed and stare out his window. If it wasn't that, he'd be on the back porch staring at your house." He's not hearing a word of this. He's just staring at his lap and watching the tears soak the thin blanket that's spread over his legs.

"I'm really sorry, Tommy." She says after a moment.

"It's okay." He says, but his voice is flat and he's trying not to completely break down in front of her right now. His shoulders are slumped forward, his spine is bent and it's starting to hurt, to be honest.

"I take it you two we real close?" Another tear falls.

"Yes, ma'am." The conversation is pretty much over after that. He says goodbye to Leila before hanging up the call, and he drops his hands in his lap, the tears flowing freely. Adam… Adam left? Adam left before he could even say goodbye? Is this why Monte wouldn't say anything? Because he didn't want Tommy to know that the person he loves is gone? And that… He chokes, burying his face into his hands and weeping. He can't help it. It's like learning his mother died all over again. He may never see Adam again.

He sits in his room, crying. Even when the sobs are done, the tears spill and spill and spill like never ending waves. He sniffles, swallowing the pained lump in his throat. He doesn't even really pay attention to the nurse as she asks him if he's okay. She sits down on the edge of the bed and wipes away his tears with a Kleenex. She asks if everything's alright, and he shakes his head. She tells him he has a visitor, and wants to know if he would like to see said visitor. He shrugs.

She leaves, and Monte comes in. When Tommy looks up at him, his grief turns into anger. He's angry because Monte couldn't just fucking tell him! He drops his gaze back to his tear soaked lap, even as the older male takes a seat in a chair near his bed. And he's sure by the look on his face and the pain in his eyes that Monte knows he found out. The male sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before folding his hands in his lap.

"Who told?" He asks.

"His mom." Monte frowns and looks up at him. "I called." He nods and looks back down again, his fingers knotted together as he sits in silence. Tommy swallows the lump in his throat again before grabbing a tissue and wiping his nose with it, tossing it into the trash can.

"Why couldn't you have just told me?" He asks, keeping his voice low and as calm as he can make it. Monte shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. Tommy looks up over at him, his lips in a tight, thin line across his face.

"I… I was going to…"

"No, you were going to leave me wondering and guessing before I drove myself insane." Okay, that's exaggerated, but right now he's pissed beyond belief. He's pissed, he's depressed, and he really, really just wants to fucking see Adam.

"That's not true, Tommy. I was going to tell you. I was just waiting for you to get back on your feet, first." Tommy scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I've gotten back on my fucking feet. Just cause I'm still in this Goddamn place doesn't mean I'm not capable of handling a little truth once in a while." His voice is getting harsh and climbing a little. Monte shifts in his chair again, leaning forward a little and trying to be calm.

"I know that you're capable, Tommy. I'm not saying you aren't…" Tommy looks away, biting down on his bottom lip as a new wave of tears stings at his eyes.

"She told me he left two months ago. Pretty much a month before I woke up. A month, Monte. You couldn't have convinced him to hold out? You couldn't have told him to wait just a little longer?" The tears well, but they don't fall just yet.

"Tommy, you would have had to see him… He was killing himself because of what happened…" Now they spill. The idea that his baby was hurting himself just… It stabs at Tommy's entire soul. He puts his face into his palms, his hair curtaining him. It's grown out, it hangs down to his chin. A dirty blond mess of hair. "I'm so sorry, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't watch him suffer, and his parents suggested that he get out of town for a little while. Just to clear his head and not worry so much."

Tommy wipes the tears away and he looks over at Monte again. "Have you tried calling him?" He asks. Monte swallows and nods. "Well?"

"He doesn't answer. I've tried calling his grandparents, but he's either never home or he doesn't want to talk. He's shut himself off." Tommy blinks a few times.

"Let me call him." He says firmly. Monte's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "Why not?"

"You're not strong enough to handle that. As it is, you need to calm down…" He's so tired and fed up with this.

"Fuck calming down, Monte!" The monitor indicates that his heart rate is increasing, and he feels exhausted again. "Let me talk to him!" Monte stands from the chair and pushes Tommy down against the pillows, forcing him to try and relax. He has to take several deep breaths to calm his heart down and to keep the dizziness away. His hands are shaking at his sides.

"Not today." Monte tells him. He's crying again, his lower lip trembling. But now he doesn't even look at Monte. The older male sighs and says he'll be back another time, before leaving and closing the door behind him.

'Adam, why couldn't you hold out?' He thinks to himself. 'Why couldn't you just… hold out a little longer? Why did you leave?' He looks up at the ceiling, staring blankly at it for a moment. His heart and his head hurt, and the combination of the two make him really, really tired.

'Why?'