Chapter Three: Taking Care
At first seeing Stuart had made him uneasy; he never showed it though and sure as hell never said anything to even hint towards that. He hated when he had walked into that hospital room with its beeping machines to see the boy's mother standing there with red rimmed eyes and his father giving his son's attacker a look of distrust and hate. They hadn't cursed him or made a move to hit him though, Stuart's mother had only told him what to do to take care of her son, and made sure to remind him several times in her instructions that if she saw one mark or one hint of a cold Murdoc would be in jail for a very long time. She made sure she stressed about his chronic migraines, how if he began whimpering, and shaking that he was getting one. She had given him the prescriptions he needed to take care of the situation and had even followed him back to his shit little flat to make sure it was fit for her son to live in until he was okay again.

The sad thing was that the doctors couldn't even pretend that he'd be alright again. There were things that he wanted to ask her, like why in hell's name his hair was blue, but it was a situation where he knew questions were better off not being asked. Stuart's mother like most mothers showed obvious disgust upon seeing where her son would be living for however long, but didn't say too much. He carried the boy over to the pull out couch and gently laid him down, his good eye was just barely open, and both it and the black eye stared up at Murdoc almost in fascination. If they had been alone he would have smacked him for that look.

He hated that black eye, it looked like it wasn't even there…Was it there; it was just a never ending abyss of darkness with this shine to it.

"It's not missing; just damaged…He might still be able to see out of it, no real way of knowing while he's still in this state….it isn't gone though, it's just dented as they would call it."

Murdoc just barely looked at the woman as she spoke. There was something about the way a mother could care for their child that hurt him, especially in times like this. He'd had a mother, a few actually; there had been the one who gave birth to him, one he rarely saw, and the third was a woman he loved dearly. She was always so kind to him, caring, when he'd come home from school beaten up she would take care of him, tell him he was her little boy, and then his father scared her off….He felt that mix of rage and depression shoot through him, but managed to push it back.

"Well I should be off, just remember what I told you Mr. Niccals. He's my only son; I don't need you to harm him more than you already have." She said her tone was wavering on bitter and a total break down.

He watched as she ran her fingers through the boy's messed blue hair before leaving. He made sure that he locked and chained the door behind her. Now that he was finally alone with the barely conscious boy he felt strange, he felt as alone as he didn't if that made any sense at all.

He ran his fingers back through his greasy hair and sat down on the edge of his mattress. He sat staring at the other man who lolled his head to the side so he could look at him.

"Do you even understand me?"

His voice echoed through the room and he felt idiotic asking the question.

"This is so fuckin' stupid, y'know? I didn't mean ta hit ya kid, it was just wrong timing and all, y'know how tat is mate."

He rubbed his hands up and down over his face and growled in frustration. He should have turned in the names of those sodding idiots he had been with that day, five days in a jail cell just so he could get out and take care of this kid, and pick up trash. What would the cops do, those idiots hadn't done anything, and they were just some idiots he had forced to go with him. If they got charged with anything it'd just be drug possession.

"Well it's yer fault, what were ya thinkin' just standin' there starin' off into space like that? Are you dumb in the head or something like that, just some pathetic dullard doin' nothin' all day. I bet you're just another stoned out college kid and I gotta take care of you."

He didn't care what Stu's mom said, she wasn't there at the moment anyways. He got up and walked over to the boy smacking him hard across the face. It felt good, so did the slaps after that, and the rough pull he gave to the kid's hair before he went back to the bed. Those eyes never left him, he was so drugged up it was pathetic.

"Idiot, fuckin' faceache, I shoulda just taken my jail time instead of this garbage….Dammit how long are ya gonna be like this for anyways?" He yelled at the boy.

A weak moan was his only reply.

This was stupid; it was the equivalent of talking to himself.

"Why's your hair blue like that? It can't be dye, there aren't any roots….Do ya got a girlfriend or are ya into guys, ya seem like you're into guys. Idiot, probably never had sex before, do you even hear me talkin' to you right now? Probably not, I'm wasting my air on you, y'know?...I'm going to bed, why am I even telling you this?"

He turned his back, but could feel those eyes on him. He could feel them on him when he crawled under the ratty black blanket that covered his bed, he could feel them on him as he drifted off to sleep, and that bloodied stare haunted him in his dreams as well. This boy was determined to get into his head and take control of his life without even knowing it. He seemed so stupid and so fucking innocent; it made Murdoc wan to hurt him more. He knew that he would, it was just the Niccals way to hurt things especially if they were a burden on your life in some way.