Yes, I'm still writing this story. Sorry it took so long.

Enjoy. At Hanson's expense.

Chapter Four

My first night back in my own bed was a restless one. Harrison's words had a death grip on my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them. I could still feel them. Those first few nights I got little sleep. Doug came over the fourth night home and stayed. He was clearly concerned for me, but said nothing about it. It was the first time I got some decent shut-eye.

School was out for the summer, but there was still plenty for us to do—after our nice two week vacation. I took some of that time to visit Brian Ganz, a kid I had met on a case earlier in the school year. Unfortunately, he ended up being a much larger part of that case than I had hoped. He's one of the few kids from my many cases that I've kept in touch with.

It was also the case that I saw a side to Jenko I never wanted to see again. Jenks was always laid-back. He would get mad at you in a nice kind of way. If that makes any sense. And that happened to me quite a bit.

For the first time, Jenko was thoroughly pissed off at me. Sure there were times when he had been annoyed or upset with me (hence, the "getting mad at you in a nice kind of way"); but this time…this time was different. I had never seen him so angry. I had never seen him this angry at all before this moment. I wanted to crawl into the chair's cushion and disappear. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I apologized emphatically, promising I would never do it again.

What I did was stupid. I may have been safe at Brian's house, but Jenko didn't know that. Nobody did. Jenko had a right to be angry with me; but for some reason, it still hurt. My dad had gotten mad at me a number of times when I was a kid; even yelled occasionally. But I never felt like this when he did. Of course, I never pulled this stunt with him. My parents always knew where I was. Not telling them wasn't an option.

And I was beginning to feel that way with Jenko.

After giving him an update on the case he let me go. I had spent most of my time in there staring at my feet.

"You okay, man?" Doug asked as I walked out.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

I sat down at my desk, "Yes, I'm sure," and stared at it.

It's brown. Dark brown, I thought to myself. Apparently, I had also thought it out loud.

"What is?" I heard Doug ask.

"The desk," I answered flatly.

Then I got up and walked to the restroom. I stood in the middle of the room, not looking at anything, trying to keep my tears from falling. I walked into one of the stalls, dropped the lid down on the toilet and sat down, pulling my feet up. What was wrong with me? Jenko hadn't hurt me. I did something I shouldn't have and was rightfully yelled at for it. So why did I feel so hurt?

Tears were now streaming down my cheeks. What is wrong with you, Thomas? I screamed in my head. He didn't do anything wrong. You did. Stop crying.

"Hanson?" Doug was calling for me, but I didn't hear him. "Hanson?"

"This is so stupid."

"What's stupid, Tom?"

He was now standing outside the stall I was in.

"So what if he got mad at me. I deserved it. It's nothing to cry about, right?"

He opened the stall door. I didn't look at his face, but I heard the worry in his voice when he said my name. "Tommy?"

Doug told me sometime later that when I finally looked up at him, he would've sworn I was only fourteen. I'm sure I looked it. And I definitely felt like I was.

I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Tom?"

My tears were falling harder. "I feel so stupid. Why does it hurt so much, Doug?"

"Because you love him. He's like a dad ta you."

"Yeah…."

"You gonna be okay?"

I nodded, planting my feet back onto the floor and wiping the tears from my eyes.

He gently rubbed my shoulder as I finally stood up. "And he loves you. Otherwise he wouldn't've gotten so upset with you. Now come on."

I sighed over the memory of that day as I stepped into the room where I'd be meeting with Brian. It had been almost eight months and Brian would be out soon. He may be a little late getting to college, but he would get there. I had kept tabs on Tober and Jimmy as well. Through all the cases I've been on with all the kids I've met, those three are the ones I've become closet to. Tober didn't believe me when I told him and Jimmy that I was an undercover cop. Even when I flashed my badge he still insisted on "speaking with this Jenko-boss guy." Douglas didn't help in the matter any, telling them I really was a high school student recruited by Jenko and then attached some wild story about how and why I ended up being recruited. Apparently, this was some kind of payback for making him out to be a geek for that case.

Brian was sitting at the table at the far end of the room, waiting for me. I smiled as he stood up and gave him a hug.

"How ya doin'?" I asked.

"Hangin' in there. You?"

"I'm okay."

I knew my tone and expression gave me away. He knew something wasn't quite right with me.

"So what's goin' on?" he asked as we sat down. "You don't seem like yerself."

"Just got done with a far-too-long case. Me and Doug were stuck at a boarding school."

"What happened?"

I sighed heavily and started to explain the case. He was amused at mine and Doug's McQuaid brothers persona and how I was on the lacrosse team. (I didn't see what was so amusing about that.) I had no problem telling him about my little fan club; at least about their creepy demeanor. Or the actual case itself. But when I got to my personal part of the story, I stopped. I couldn't go any further.

Brian waited for a moment for me to continue before speaking himself. "What happened, Tom?"

I had my arms folded on the table, staring at them. The air around me felt heavy. He waited patiently as I sighed heavily, running my left hand through my hair and looking around the room. Other than the two of us, the room was empty.

"Those, uh…those three guys that were watchin' me…."

"Yeah…."

I took a deep breath, hesitated, then looked him in the eyes. "I was raped. By all three of them."

"Oh, man, Tom…."

"Multiple times."

I had my head down, so I didn't see the expression on his face.

"Does Doug know?"

"No." I looked up at him. "Yer the first person I've told." I turned away from him and stared at my feet. My shoes had never been so interesting to me as they were at that moment.

A tear hit my shoe. Great. This is just what I need…to start crying now.

I felt Brian's hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

I looked up at him, wiping the tears from my eyes. "Yeah…. I'm fine."

"It's not my position to tell you what you should or shouldn't do. But you really need ta tell Doug."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked back down at the floor. "I don't know if I can."

Brian changed the subject after that. For which I was grateful. We spent the rest of the visit laughing about that case that started our friendship; our future plans; and whatever else we could think of. As brief as it was, it was still a sweet release for me; something that I desperately needed.

As I headed back home, I couldn't get Brian's voice out of my head telling me that I needed to tell Doug what had happened. But like every other time I wanted to tell him, I lost my nerve; and all those absurd, ridiculous thoughts bombarded my mind. I decided to stop by Doug's place. Maybe I'd get my nerve back.

There are few things that blow my mind. Doug's apartment is one of them.

"Where do you sleep?" I asked, munching on a cookie one of his neighbors had made for him. (She made a whole batch, not just the one cookie.)

"In the loft or on the couch."

"Where's yer bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right."

I was about to ask a dumb question; more like make a dumb statement. "You have a hallway?" I had been there before. You'd think I would've noticed.

"Yes, Hanson. I have a hallway."

Walking out of the bathroom I noticed another door, closed. "Hey, what's this door go to?"

Doug was standing at the end of the hallway, staring at me. "It's my bedroom."

I furrowed my brow. "You have a bedroom?"

"Yes, Thomas. I have a bedroom."

"So…why don't you use it?"

We walked back to the kitchen.

"I do. Just not fer sleeping."

"You're strange, Douglas."

"But you love me, anyway."

I rolled my eyes as we walked into the living room, plates of food in hand, and sat down on the couch.

"So how'd yer visit go with Brian?"

"Good. He's doin' good."

"How much more time before he's outta there?"

"Few months I guess. Not really sure."

I knew he wanted to ask me about what happened on the case. Brian was right. I needed to tell Doug. It was just a matter of actually going through with it. Which of course, didn't happen.

I would soon regret not telling him right then and there. My summer of hell was about to begin.

After eating pizza and playing on the Nintendo for nearly three hours I headed home. Ever since that last day of the case I'd been constantly looking over my shoulder. Whenever I was alone, every sound, no matter how small or even familiar, put me on edge. I had no idea where the three of them were or if their sick desires still included me.

Harrison's words echoed through my mind as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. 'Just because yer leavin' school…doesn't mean this is over.' I suddenly lost my desire to go into my apartment.

"Suck it up, Hanson. There's no one there."

My pep talks to myself rarely work. This one was not among the rare.

I sighed heavily and got out of the car. The building looked ominous. "Get it together, Thomas."

Heading inside, I felt chills run up and down my spine. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. The stairwell felt foreboding. It was absurd, but I couldn't help it.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud, just walk up the stairs, ya sissy."

I walked hurriedly to my apartment, stopping abruptly in front of the door. I reached for the handle to check it. Locked. Sighing with relief, I unlocked the door and went in.

It was quiet, dimly lit by the lamp on the end table by the couch. I closed the door behind me and dead bolted it. Fear was starting to take over as I slowly walked through my apartment, jumping at the slightest sound. I almost drew my weapon. "You're just being paranoid," I told myself.

I felt ridiculous.

In my old apartment, my first apartment, the bathroom was by the front door. That never made any sense to me. I moved out after the fire. My apartment was relatively untouched by the flames, but there was extensive smoke damage. I found a place for the same rent and a bathroom in a less annoying—and less weird—place. However, my front door didn't have a peephole.

I was tired…but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to sleep. My fears were likely unfounded. Likely, but not certain.

After changing my clothes I collapsed onto my bed. As I started to drift off, I heard what sounded like knocking at my front door. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand as I got up. Eleven-thirty. It could easily be "Mother Hem" Doug checking up on me, even though I had just left his place. My eyelids were drooping as I walked to the door. Reaching for the knob a sudden chill ran down my spine. I slowly unlocked the dead bolt. My hands were trembling and my heart was pounding. Swallowing the lump in my throat I opened the door. (Why I didn't ask who it was before I unlocked the dead bolt, I still can't figure out.)

Standing just behind the threshold was my worst nightmare. The one thing I had been fearing most since the last day of that case was at my door.

How did they know where I lived?

"Hey, Tommy-boy." Nick the Nurse.

"What do you want?" I said, trying to hold my composure.

"We just came for a little visit. Mind if we come in?" he said, pushing his way past and followed by Harrison and Coleman, who each patted me on the head.

I stood there by the open door, staring at them.

Nick walked back over to me and closed the door, turning the dead bolt. "Now Tommy, you shouldn't leave yer door open. You never who just might walk in unannounced." His lighthearted tone was disgusting.

"What're you doin' here? How'd you find my apartment?" I growled.

"Easy there, Tiger."

Harrison and Coleman still hadn't said a word. Coleman was leaning against the back of the couch and Harrison was leaning against the dining table.

Nick put his arm around my shoulders. I jerked away, but he wasn't fazed. "You know what you need, Tommy-boy…." He put his arms around my shoulders again, squeezing tighter so I couldn't jerk away. "A nice warm shower. It would be very gracious of you ta be nice and squeaky clean fer us."

I struggled to get away from him. That's when Harrison finally spoke. "Now, now, Officer Hanson," he said as he approached. How did he know? "Let's not make a spectacle."

"Get out of my apartment."

Nick squeezed me even tighter. "Oh, come now, Tommy. We haven't seen each other for awhile." He glanced over at Coleman. "I think it's time for that shower."

He dragged me down to the bathroom and shoved me in. "Let's get that water runnin'."

I had no way of getting out and it would've been stupid to try anything. I was trapped.

With the shower now going, Nick turned back to me. "Oh, come now, Officer Hanson, you know you can't take a proper shower when yer still fully clothed." I stood uncomfortably still, staring at him. I had turned back into the frightened teenager from that case. "Either you take yer clothes off and get in that shower or I'm gonna do it for you."

There was no doubt in my mind that he would.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and slowly removed my clothes.

"Get in. Wash up."

I did. Scared to death.

When he decided I was finished, he told me to get out and dry off but to leave my "dirty clothes" on the floor.

So I did.

"You should comb yer hair," Harrison said.

Coleman countered, "Nah. I like it messy. Makes him look like a kid."

I felt like one.

They were mocking me. And clearly enjoying it.

Nick smiled at me, messing my still wet hair. "Ain't he adorable." He spun me around and pushed me up against the wall. "How 'bout we get started."

"How 'bout we skip all this and you guys leave."

"Well, now," Harrison mocked, "he actually has a voice this time."

Nick's mouth was almost touching my ear. "Now where's the fun in that?"

He started to unzip his pants and I started to fight back.

"Not a good idea, son" Harrison said.

Nick slammed me into the wall. I hit my head…hard. Everything went fuzzy. The next thing I was aware of was waking up in my bed, startled.

Was it all a dream?

I jumped out of the bed and ran to the front door. The dead bolt was locked. I sighed heavily and turned to walk back to my room. As soon as I took a step with my right foot a sharp pain shot up my right side from my foot to my waist. The pain dropped me to the floor. I gritted my teeth, trying not to scream. When the searing pain passed, I looked down at my leg. On the side of my right leg, from my knee up under my boxers, was a massive, deep purple bruise. I lifted the waistband of my boxers; the bruise was almost to my waistline. It was painful to the touch and I was afraid to move. I didn't want that searing pain to come back. But I couldn't lay there forever. Even though I didn't have to work that day I still had to get up and get moving. Doug was bound to call—or just show up—at some point during the day.

I reached for the doorknob and pulled myself up, trying not to put too much weight on my bruised leg. I had to get to the bathroom and get a better look at it. Getting to my feet I took a deep breath and then took a step with my left foot. Taking in another deep breath, I took that second step. It wasn't as painful as the one that put me on the floor, but it still hurt like hell. As I limped to the bathroom, tears started to fall. The pain steadily got worse as I limped down the hallway. I had to stop a couple of times and take a breather till some of the pain subsided. By the time I made it to the bathroom the pain in my leg was worse. I stood bent over the sink, ready to collapse. Looking up into the mirror, I didn't notice anything unusual at first. My hair was a mess like it always was every morning. Then I noticed a large, black and blue bump on my left temple. I touched it an immediately flinched.

What the hell happened? Did I have some kind of night terror? Had they really been here?

"And why can't I remember?"

I didn't realize I was putting so much weight on my right leg until that searing pain returned and nearly put me on the floor again. I gritted my teeth again to keep myself from screaming. The tears were falling harder now.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my comb, wetted it and combed out my hair. I still don't know why I felt that that was so important. I had to get a good look at my leg now. No matter how scared I was to look at it. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see, but it wasn't what I expected.

I pulled my boxers down to get a good look at my thigh. In the center of the bruise my skin was broken. It looked as if it had exploded out. No wonder it was so painful. The only good thing was that it wasn't bleeding. At least not anymore. I pulled my boxers back up. I needed to go to the hospital, but there was no way I could drive myself with my leg the way it was.

I made my way out of the bathroom and back to my bedroom. The air was practically sucked out of my lungs when I saw the blood on my sheets. It wasn't a massive amount, but still enough to scare me. Then I saw a pair of my boxers on the floor by my dresser. One of the legs was saturated with blood.

My mind was reeling.

I picked up the phone on my nightstand to call Doug. Before I could dial I heard someone knock on the door. I prayed that it was Doug. I set the phone back down and slowly limped to the door. Halfway there, I heard Doug's voice calling my name. I sighed with relief as I continued to limp to the door.

"I'm coming."

I opened the door, cringing as I took a few steps back to let Doug in.

"Hey, pal," Doug started as he walked in. "I was wondering if you—" He paused, obviously noticing something. "What happened to you?" He closed the door and then touched the bruised bump on my temple."Ow." I pulled my head back.

Then he looked down. "What the hell happened to yer leg?"

"I don't know." I replied sincerely, limping and grimacing in pain.

"I wanna take a look at that bruise."

I didn't protest. "Okay." I was in too much pain.

"Come on."

He helped me down to the bathroom where he checked out the bruise. I felt a little uncomfortable dropping my shorts in front of him.

"Relax, Hanson. I have the same plumbing." He knelt down to take a look at it. My bruise, not my plumbing. "Besides, I've already seen you naked."

"Don't remind me. " I yelped. "Don't push on it so hard."

"I didn't. Pull yer shorts up and get dressed. I'm gonna take you to the hospital."

Though it was just across the hall, he helped me to my room. I didn't want him to see the blood, but I didn't have a choice. He didn't say anything when he saw my blood-stained sheets.

"What happened, Tom?" he asked as I slipped on a t-shirt and my pajama pants.

"I don't know," I replied, searching for my slippers. I didn't feel like trying to put on my jeans or my sneakers. My leg hurt too much. "I can't remember anything." Of course, I remembered something. But I wasn't sure if was real or just a dream.

"You ready?"

"Yeah…. I'm ready."

Again, Doug helped me limp along; this time out of my apartment and to my car. I'm sure he was pleased he would be driving.

"You all the way in? I don't wanna smash yer leg when I close the door."

"Yeah…. I'm all the way in. You can close the door."

Once we were on our way Doug asked, "How bad's yer leg hurtin' ya?"

"It feels like someone's tryin' to rip my leg apart." He cringed. "What about yer head?"

"Only when I touch the bump."

"And you can't remember anything that happened."

"No." My voice grew softer. "It was just a dream."

He glanced at me. "What dream?"

I was staring out the window. "More like a nightmare."

"Well, what happened in yer nightmare?"

"I'm not sure where it started. But when I got home from yer place I was so tired I just changed my clothes and went to bed. I guess I fell asleep right away." I looked over at him. He gave me the nod to continue. "I guess in my dream, I was starting to nod off when I heard knocking at my front door. So I got up to answer it. I was so tired I didn't bother to ask who it was, so I just opened the door."

"Who was it?"

"These three guys."

"Did you recognize them?"

"No," I lied.

"What happened?"

"They pushed their way into my apartment and assaulted me. Well, tried to."

"Tried to?"

"I woke up. Then I ran to the front door to check and see if it was locked. It was. And then when I turned to walk back to my bedroom…."

"You found out yer leg was messed up," Doug finished.

"Yeah…."

"What about yer head?"

I shrugged.

"You sure it was just a dream?"

"No, I'm not sure."

When we arrived at the emergency room Doug insisted that I just "show them" my leg rather than tell them first. I saw a doctor immediately.

My wound ended up needing stitches. I almost screamed when the doctor cleaned it out and tears were streaming down my cheeks. I tried not to completely lose it and jump off the table while the doctor checked out my leg. I was terrified laying there with my pants down and I knew Doug could tell how upset I was. I had insisted that he be in there with me.

"It's alright, Tommy. I'm right here."

"I know."

As soon as the doctor was done I had my pants up as far as I could get them while still lying down. Doug helped me off the table so I could pull them up the rest of the way. I was a much happier boy then. The doctor gave me some medicated cream to put on the bruise on my leg, as well as my head, and some gauze to keep on my wound until it healed. My head injury was minor.

And then I was outta there as fast as I could limp outta there.

The doctor had told me that a night terror wasn't farfetched. He had seen many injuries that were caused by such nightmares. So I left it at that. A night terror. I asked him why I couldn't remember what had happened. He told me simply that because it happened during my night terror, I was unaware of reality. It was similar to sleepwalking. A sleepwalker doesn't remember what he did or how he got somewhere while he was sleeping. However, there were cases in which the person experiencing the night terror did remember what was occurring in the dream. I for one didn't want to remember.

And I prayed that it would never happen again.

By the time my vacation was over, the wound on my leg had healed and the bruise was fading. My leg was still a little sore, but I could put weight on it without any problem. The bruise and bump on my head were gone and I had no lasting effects from it.

I never have figured out what caused the small gash in my leg. Doug and I searched everywhere in my apartment, but continually came up empty.

With my leg on the mend, I was eager to get back to work. What I was not eager for was my upcoming summer from Hell.

JSJSJS

I'll try not to take so long next time.