Author's note: Thanks again for all the follows and reviews, guys. I was gonna try to post every Monday, but I'm currently roadtripping/camping for the next month or so. I'll try to be as consistent as possible, but I'll pretty much just post whenever I get some wi-fi so bear with me.
Sandy noticed the boy shudder. Was he cold? Did he have a concussion? Broken bones? Who had beaten him? Had he really gotten into a fight? Was he really violent? The way he kept his head down and backed away from his touch, he couldn't be violent. Right? How could Sandy's son be violent? What kind of environment would he have had to grow up in in order to have his gene's and a violent personality?
He wanted to ask all of these questions, but he didn't. He couldn't. He could barely stand near the boy without scaring him? But was he scared? Or was it something else?
"Why don't we get out of here and then we can talk?"
Ryan didn't see any other options than to obey his new 'father.' What was he going to do to him? Could it really be worse than his real father? Could it be worse than jail?
The man could kill him. So could his father. So could jail.
He walked through the open door to the hallway that the man held open. He moved out of the older man's way but just stood there waiting., not having any idea where to go next. There were signs on the wall that had arrows pointing to the "EXIT" but Ryan knew from experience that things would go more smoothly if he waited for instruction. Maybe if he treated this man with the same caution he treated his real father, he would be okay.
Sandy followed his son out the door and saw that he had stopped. There were clear signs in front of both of them directing them out of the building, yet the boy just stood there. Would he rather have been left in jail? Did he find the boys he fought inside less intimidating than Sandy?
He cautiously walked around the boy and started leading the way to the car. He glanced back to see Ryan following him slowly with his head down. He thought he noticed a limp so he slowed his pace discretely.
He opened his mouth and then closed it. And again. He didn't know what to say next. How could they not tell him why he was taking a DNA test? How could they release him to his biological father without telling him that he had a biological father? He obviously had another one. He regretted not stopping at the case worker's office on the way over so he could have spent the six hours mulling over his file. But then he probably would have gotten to the prison over an hour later and would be getting Ryan an hour later, if they would even release him at such a late hour. It was seven already. They probably weren't supposed to release him except they had started the process so early.
"I can't believe they didn't tell you what was going on."
The voice was loud and it sounded angry. Ryan was too tired to listen to the specific words right away. He immediately stopped and got ready to defend himself against an attack while the words bounced around in his head.
It wasn't angry directed at him. He heard the man, his new father, quietly mumble 'sorry.' He heard the man's footsteps again and glanced to see that he was walking again. Ryan focused on his feet and followed. They were nice shoes. Nicer than his real father ever wore. But was the man who beat on a regular basis his real father? Or was this man? Was there just some huge mistake? There had to have been. But should he say anything about it? If this was a ploy of some pervert or serial killer, would questioning it just make things worse? Or would it be safer to ask before they left the confines of the prison? They were too far away from the guard and desk clerks and inmates for any of them to do anything to stop what was going on. It would be better for him to wait until they were outside so he could try to run if he needed to, not that it looked like he would get very far with his knee.
Sandy opened his mouth a few more times only to shut it. The teenager was so startled at his voice, it made him nervous. He had been a little loud. Maybe Ryan had just been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he jumped at Sandy's voice. Maybe. But he turned to see him following as quickly as he could with his bruised face facing down, staring at the floor.
What kind of teenage boy acted that way? It made his stomach turn. What had his son's life been like these past sixteen years? Sandy knew virtually nothing about his mother. They reached the door to civilization and he went first, holding the door open for Ryan.
"The car's that way." He pointed to the left. Thankfully, he hadn't had to park too far from the door. They would drive out of the gates. "The blue one." He made sure all of his words were softer and quieter than before, but the silence was killing him. He had to break it somehow.
He handed the paper work he had received earlier to the guard who scrutinized it.
"Look up!" Sandy jumped himself at the guard's loudly barked order. He looked over to Ryan who had obeyed, quickly. As the guard took his time to compare Ryan to his picture, Sandy took the opportunity to study his son's face. Blood was now smeared over his chin and cheek. He kept his face and the rest of the muscles in his body still and his eyes straight ahead, but Sandy noticed how quickly his chest went up and down. He was terrified. Or on drugs? Or scared of getting caught by the guard because he was doing something wrong? But what could he have been doing wrong? No, the guard had just scared him just like Sandy had. Twice already.
No matter how confused or upset Ryan was over whatever was happening, he knew that he had to obey the guard and that he had to do it quickly. He learned on his first day what the repercussions were for not. Even though it was almost a month ago, he was, as the guards had promised, taught a lesson he would never forget.
He could feel his father's eyes on him. Not his father. This stranger. But what was the stranger's name? He didn't even know. He wondered if this man was going to be like his father where it didn't matter how nicely or quickly obedient he was. Or if he would be like the guards and leave him alone if he was good. Ryan guessed that the guards really only left him alone because they would get in trouble if they didn't have a reason to beat him. But who would stop this stranger.
"Ryan?" The voice wasn't the guard's. Ryan looked over at the man who had said his name and took a second to study his face, it didn't look angry. It looked just as confused as Ryan's own probably did. It even had his own eyes. "Come on."
Lights flashed and caught his attention. It was the car he was about to get in. It wasn't falling apart like most cars he had ever been in. It looked normal. Just like the man's face. It even smelled normal, not like cigarette smoke and vomit. Ryan watched the gates to the prison pass in the side mirror and heard the man he was with give a sigh.