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Post by *Lore~Lowell* on Nov 9, 2005 6:35:26 GMT -5
************* PT.14
“Dog-pile!” Tré shouted cheerfully, pouncing on Mike and knocking the taller boy over onto Billie’s couch. The bassist landed hard on the cushions, getting his breath whooshed out of him. Tré began wrestling with him from his position over his friend, their laughs ringing in the living room.
“Get off of me, asshole!” Mike said, laughing, at the same time pushing at Tré’s chest with open palms. The drummer smirked, leaning his weight forward and making it impossible for Mike to throw him off.
“How do you ask nicely?” he said, visibly gloating in his advantage.
“Uh…if you get your fat ass off of me right now, I might not have to kill you,” Mike said, pushing hard at Tré’s chest and stomach again. “Now will you get off? I’m having trouble breathing.”
Tré frowned playfully. “That was a statement. I’d asked for a question.” He paused, and his brow furrowed. “And my ass isn’t fat.”
Mike sighed. “Fine, if you value your life, will you get off me?”
“And…?”
Mike rolled his eyes. “And your ass isn’t fat.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Tré rolled away from his position, tumbling off the couch. While he started to get up from the floor, Mike turned over and landed―hard―on Tré’s back, forcing him to lie flat against the carpet. Mike laughed as Tré gasped for breath and wheezed obscenities.
“Honestly, you guys are as bad as children,” Billie Joe said, coming into the room from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of soda and a bowl of chips. He placed both on the coffee table in front of the TV.
“I think your elbow’s digging into my lower back,” Tré grunted, shifting a little. Mike smiled and jabbed said body part harder into the form lying beneath him. Tré gave a little “oomph!” that proved Mike had hit a sensitive spot.
Billie rolled his eyes in hopelessness and sat down on the couch. “Forget it. You guys can lie there all night if I care.” Mike grinned mischieviously and turned his head to look at the trapped drummer.
“That sounds like a plan to me,” he said cheerfully. “You’re rather comfy, Tré.”
“Jackass!”
Mike laughed, and, taking pity on poor Tré, he got up. The bassist plopped down next to Billie and grabbed a chip from the bowl. Tré got up more slowly, groaning exaggeratedly as he stood and stretched. “I was right,” he said. “My ass isn’t the one’s that fat, Mike―yours is!”
“Shut the fuck up and sit down,” Mike said. “The show’s about to start.” Tré grinned and sat down between Mike and Billie, wrapping an arm around both their necks and pulling them closer to him. The two of them made fake choking noises.
“Ah, a day with my friends,” Tré said blissfully, leaning back. “What could be better!”
“Breathing seems nice,” Billie Joe gasped. “What do you think, Mike?”
“Sounds cool to me,” the other boy deprived of air said. “Tré? Could we have our heads back, please?”
“Fine,” Tré said cheerfully, releasing them and focusing his attention on the television.
Billie and Mike rubbed their necks and watched the TV as well, and the three fell silent. However, that day, they were not able to catch the end of the show. For at that moment, the basement door flew open and smacked against the wall with a loud “BANG!” All three boys jumped and their heads whipped around to see Billie Joe’s stepfather standing in the doorway, body rigid and breathing hard.
Tré could feel Billie inching closer to him, as if he were frightened of this man. The drummer had only met Steve once before, and that was when he’d come in through the living room to get a beer from the fridge. Tré hadn’t even talked to the guy, but he remembered that he hadn’t liked the look about him. He looked…threatening, like one who enjoys pain. His eyes held a certain darkness about them that made him uneasy as well.
A darkness that was shining in Steve’s eyes at that very moment. And, to admit, Tré was rather scared. Billie’s stepfather swept his eyes over the boys, then landed his gaze on Billie Joe. He raised a finger.
“You,” he said, his voice deep and controlled. Too controlled. “Downstairs. Now.”
Billie glanced at Mike and Tré, who turned their heads to look back at him. Tré’s eyes were filled with fear and confusion, but Mike’s were filled with concern. Billie Joe started to get up. Mike flung out a hand and caught his arm, at the same time shaking his blond head.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “You know what he’s going to do to you. Don’t go.” Billie paused, glancing at his stepfather and his best friend, uncertain.
“Now, boy!!”
Billie Joe winced, then untangled his arm from Mike’s fingers. He began to walk towards Steve across the living room. Mike and Tré watched as Billie’s stepfather grabbed his arm in a rough, hard grip and pulled him closer. Steve withdrew a tattered notebook. Billie’s journal.
“I found what you wrote on page twenty-seven, you little son of a bitch,” Steve snarled, shaking the boy in his grasp. “What makes you think it’s okay to write that about me? Huh? Answer me, filthy piece of shit!” Steve threw Billie away from him, making the boy hit the wall with a resounding thud.
Mike and Tré were positively horrified by what they were seeing. Mike, of course, knew what Steve had been doing to his best friend all these years, but he’d never once seen it happen, and it really was sickening to look upon. Tré, however, was completely shocked. Finally, he knew who was beating Billie…but he wasn’t sure he liked knowing the answer. To think…Billie Joe lived with this man, his life was trapped within Steve’s hands.
The two of them couldn’t move as Steve marched straight up to Billie, who was hunched against the wall, and smack him across the face with his own notebook. The end of the wire loop cut a gash across Billie’s face.
“Please,” the boy sobbed, sitting up and placing a careful hand on the small slash in his skin. “Not in front of them. Anything but that.” Steve smirked cruelly and wrapped his fingers in Billie’s black hair, wrenching the boy up until he was standing. He then spun Billie around and made him face his motionless friends.
“You don’t like it when I do this in front of your friends?” the large man sneered. “What’s the matter? Is it too embarrassing?” He looked up at Mike and Tré, who could barely breathe with the shock running through their veins. “Do you two have any problems with this? Any at all?”
They didn’t respond. Their eyes were wide, their faces pale.
“Good,” Steve smirked, then kicked Billie to the floor. He rained blows on Billie Joe’s chest, stomach, and arms, all before the eyes of the boy’s friends. Billie curled into a ball, trying to protect himself, his eyes squeezed shut and tears leaking from the lids. He struggled not to make a sound, and Mike could tell. But when Steve managed to rip a cry from his stepson’s throat, the bassist had had enough.
Mike leapt from his seat on the couch and flew at Steve, aiming at the man’s ribs with his fist. “Stop it!” he shouted, and swung a punch that connected sharply and sent Steve stumbling back. Mike stood over his fallen friend protectively and watched with satisfaction as Steve crashed into a small table and fell to the floor. Mike’s muscles were tense and his eyes shone with rage.
Steve blinked and looked up, as if he were disbelieving that a fifteen year old boy could topple him so easily. His confusion was quickly replaced with anger. He started to get up from his position on the floor, reaching behind him for an unbroken vase that he’d knocked from the table. He stood and raised his arm.
“No!” Tré tried to lunge forward to push Mike out of the way, but he was too slow. The vase cracked against Mike’s left shoulder and the chips cut into his skin numerous times, leaving deep gashes that bled freely down his arm. The pain sent the boy staggering, and he collapsed against the coffee table, the bowl of chips getting overturned and its contents scattered.
“Mike!” Billie cried, trying to rise to help his friend. But a strong hand grabbed his ankle and tugged him away, leaving Mike lying against the table, bleeding profusely. Billie Joe flipped over, onto his back, and tried kicking at Steve, who was pulling him towards the basement.
Seeing the open door, Billie felt instantly sick. It had a lock on the inside, and if Steve managed to get him into the stairwell and throw it, then he was left to his stepfather and whatever twisted things Steve would do to him.
Billie wriggled, kicked, punched, did anything he could to make the large man let go of him, but nothing worked. He was getting closer to the basement, closer…
And suddenly, the TV remote flew across the room and smacked Steve on the temple, making him falter. A little figurine then hit him on the arm. Random objects started striking him, making him let go of Billie, who crawled hurriedly away.
Tré was standing on the other side of the room, throwing anything―everything he could get his hands on at the threatening man. He even threw the chip bowl, but missed, and it shattered against the wall. He then chucked the glasses of soda.
While Tré was doing this, Billie appraoched Mike, who was still lying on the table, most of which was covered with his own blood. The bassist was lying frighteningly still, but he was breathing, and his eyes were half-open.
“Mike?” Billie whispered, gently shaking his friend’s good arm. “Are you okay?”
“ENOUGH!!” Steve hollered from where he was in the basement doorway. He marched across the room, shoving his way roughly past Billie and Mike, and starting going for Tré. The drummer yelped in fear and surprise and tried to dodge Steve’s hand. He didn’t succeed. The man pushed him hard, and Tré stumbled back into a large glass case of cutesy figurines Billie’s mother had collected over the years. A pane of glass shattered beneath the impact, some of it cutting into Tré’s skin. Blood splattered the carpet.
Tré cried out in pain and fell to the floor amongst the bits of broken glass. Billie watched with wide eyes as Steve spun around, seemingly done with Tré, and came toward him again. Mike cracked open his eyes when Steve pushed past him. He gasped when the first thing he saw was Billie’s stepfather beating the boy to the floor.
Despite the pain, Mike tried to get up. He felt slippery with blood, and his hands kept slipping on the wooden table. But he managed to stand, and he came up behind Steve, who actually heard his harsh breathing and whirled around before Mike was able to do anything.
Billie let out a ragged sob as Steve rammed his fist into the side of Mike’s head, toppling the boy. His stepfather then gave his friend a harsh kick to the side. “You just don’t know when to quit!” Steve said, giving Mike another blow.
Looking past the two of them, Billie saw Tré starting to sit up from where he was on the floor. The drummer’s arms were covered with slashes and blood was pouring gently from his back, but his blue eyes were shining with determination. Billie Joe waved a hand to get his attention.
‘Get help,’ the black haired boy mouthed. Tré stared at him, seemingly unsure of what he’d said, glancing at Mike and Steve concernedly. ‘GET HELP’ Billie Joe mouthed again, pointing to the kitchen, where the phone was. This time Tré got the message. He nodded and started to get to his feet.
To distract Steve, and to get him to stop beating Mike, Billie stood up and hammered his stepfather on the spine with connected fists. It wasn’t strong enough to knock Steve over, but it was enough to anger and hurt him, and the large man spun around and backhanded Billie roughly across the face. The boy somehow managed to keep his footing, though he stumbled back a few steps.
“I’m tired of you!” Steve roared, coming at Billie again. Mike could only watch helplessly from the floor, too weak and injured to get up and help his friend. Tré was making his way around the corner and into the kitchen. Billie was alone now.
“You sit around, you eat food, and you get in the way!” Steve said, still advancing on his stepson, who kept trying to back away. “I’ve had enough of you and your fucking existence! No one needs you! You’re an extra!” Billie saw the flash of steel in Steve’s hand. “One to be disposed of.” He raised his arm.
Mike tried to get up, but didn’t have enough strength.
Steve smiled.
And Billie snapped.
“NO!!!”
He lashed out and knocked the knife from his stepfather’s hand. He didn’t know how he’d done it, but the next thing he knew, the blade was flying across the room to land on the floor twenty feet away. Steve looked at him with a shocked expression.
It didn’t end there. Billie all but threw himself at the large man, punching, kicking, even biting, doing anything he could to hurt Steve. That was all he wanted. He wanted to show Steve all the pain he’d felt, wanted to show Steve that he wasn’t worthless. Most of all, he wanted to prove to himself that this man did not control his life.
“I’m SICK of you!!” Billie shouted, his knuckles cracking against Steve’s face. “I’m SICK of the PAIN!! Don’t ever touch me anymore! Don’t ever touch me, don’t ever touch my mother―” he drove a fist into his stepfather’s stomach, “―or Anna―” he kicked Steve in the ribs, “―or Holly―” a punch, “―or Tré―” a scratch, “―or Mike!! Don’t ever touch them ever AGAIN!!!”
Billie Joe started sobbing, still landing blows on Steve’s head, his neck, his chest…any part of Steve’s body he could reach, he bruised it or scratched it. Tears ran down the fifteen year old’s face, and still he didn’t stop. “I swear, I’ll kill you, Steve, I’ll fucking KILL you!”
Billie scrambled to get up and grasped the fallen knife from the floor. The man was starting to stand from the floor, but Billie Joe followed him, the blade gripped tightly in his hand. He raised his right arm, intending with every ounce of his soul to kill the man that’d nearly taken his life away from him, to stab him until he died….but a hand caught his arm.
The boy screamed with wordless rage and fought against whoever was holding him back, but the other person was stronger than him and kept pulling him away. The knife was wrenched from his fingers. Billie turned around and tried to lash out at the mysterious person, but then they just threw him to the floor and pinned him down. He struggled with all of his strength.
“Calm down, lad,” a gruff, unfamiliar voice said. “It’s alright, now. He ain’t gonna hurt you no more.” Billie still tried to throw the hands off his body.
“No!” he cried. “That motherfucking bastard deserves to die! Let me go, I want to kill him―”
“Marsha! Help me out here! This kid’s on a bloody rampage!”
Another set of hands joined the first in an attempt to subdue him. He fought against them, snarling curses at faces he couldn’t even clearly see past his furious haze and simply wearing himself out with his efforts. It took almost ten minutes, but, slowly, he began to calm down like an abused dog warily pulling its lip down over its canines and lowering its hackles.
He closed his eyes and rested his face against the rough carpet, his breathing slowing by the second. The pairs of hands loosened their holds cautiously, as if afraid he would enter the state of rage again.
“There now,” a female voice said softly. Billie liked the sound of it. It was gentle, soothing, like a wave of water after running through a heated desert. A hand gently smoothed his spiky black hair.
“Poor kid,” another voice said, the gruff male one.
“Kids, you mean,” the woman corrected her partner.
That instantly woke Billie up. He sat bolt upright, ignoring the hands grabbing him firmly again to prevent him from doing anything stupid. “Mike!” Billie Joe shouted worriedly. “Tré! Where are they? Are they okay?”
The face of a male police officer entered his vision. “There were two teenagers found in the house, one in here and the other in the kitchen. Both of them were unconscious. But the paramedics have gotten to them, and they’ll be alright. Just relax now, you’re safe.”
Billie ignored the officer’s last statement. “What about Steve? Where is he?”
“Steve?”
“My stepdad. Where is he?”
This time the female answered him. He turned to see her pretty face, dotted with freckles and her hair as red as copper. “We’ve captured him. He’s waiting outside in a police vehicle. Come, now. Let’s get you out of here.”
They both gently helped him to his feet and led him out the open front door, across his lawn, and to the street, where numerous police cars were parked, their lights flashing red and blue in the darkness. There were also two ambulences nearby, their back doors open.
Billie was led to the edge of the commotion and was sat down. Three paramedics came over and checked him out for any serious injuries, prodding here and there. Billie Joe hardly noticed. He was staring straight at a flashing police light, the image burning into his pupils. He seemed to be almost in shock.
“How are my friends?” he suddenly asked, not taking his eyes off the light. A paramedic looked up from where she was inspecting a deep gash on his arm from his brawl with Steve.
“They’ll both be fine,” she informed him. “They both need to get glass removed and they’re going to need stitches, but they’re alright.” Billie nodded, and, after the paramedics had patched up his injuries and were certain he was alright, they packed up their things and moved away.
The female police officer came over again and threw a blanket around his shoulders, which he hugged close to his body to preserve warmth. She sat down next to him. “Your mother’s been contacted,” she said. Without looking at her, Billie nodded. There was a pause where they both were silent.
“You’re a brave kid,” she told him, then got up and walked away. Billie Joe watched her leave. He then bowed his head and shivered. ~*~*~
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Post by *Lore~Lowell* on Nov 9, 2005 6:37:15 GMT -5
Okay, this was all supposed to be one part, but it was too big to post. ;D **************** STILL PT.14.... Ollie’s car screeched to a stop just on the edge of the large circle of police vehicles. She got out as soon as her car came to a complete halt, leaving the engine running and the car door open. She ducked beneath the yellow caution tape, her eyes searching for Billie the entire time.
“Ma’am, civilians are not permitted to cross the line,” a young police officer said, grabbing her arm. She yanked it roughly away, landing a glare on the man.
“I’m looking for my baby! This is my house!” she snapped. The officer seemed shocked and was immediately apologetic. He took her arm again, but in a gentler manner, one used for leading and not restraining. He escorted her to the center of the commotion, where the police chief stood with a few other officers. The chief turned to them when they were near enough.
“What is it?” he asked, glancing once at Billie’s mother, who was still searching the crowd for her son.
“She lives here, apparently. I think one of the injured boys is her son.”
Ollie snapped her gaze back to the officer. “’Injured’?” she asked worriedly, looking abck and forth between the officer and his chief. “What happened? Where are they?”
The chief cleared his throat. “Well…two are about to be carted to the hospital for stitches,” he reported in a businesslike, yet sympathetic, manner. “The third is fine physically, but he seems to have some trauma emotionally.”
“Take me to them,” Ollie demanded. “Now.”
It could be seen now where Billie Joe got his unique talent to make even his small form look intimidating. Ollie’s eyes flashed dangerously, making the police chief order the officer to take her to the boys. The young man did so without hesitation. He took her to the edge of the police squad, where the two ambulances were.
Ollie saw two forms lying on stretchers and a small figure hunched over them. She would recognize her son anywhere. The forms on the stretchers, however, she could see were Mike and Tré. They both seemed to be unconscious, yet Billie was talking to them, saying something she couldn’t hear.
She forgot about that as soon as she realized her son was safe. “Billie!” she cried, and she pelted off across the pavement. Billie Joe looked up from where he was sitting, seeing his mother running towards him. He stood up so she could enfold him in her arms.
“Oh my God,” she panted, holding him close to her body. “Oh my God.” She continued to ramble off to God, the Lord, Jesus, all different forms of gods, saying prayers of thanks and gratitude for the safety of her son. She soon even began to talk to the Greek gods. If it were any other time, it would have been humorous.
“Oh, God, Billie,” she whispered, kissing his face. They remained thus for the longest time, ignoring the paramedics skittering around them and the police officers. It was simply a little bubble in which mother and son stood, and time seemed to stop for only that moment.
And for that moment, Billie couldn’t help but think: She knows now. She knows. What will she think of me? Will she be ashamed?
Ollie finally pulled away, tears streaming down her face. She held Billie’s face in her hands and simply looked at him, running a hand over his hair, her mind still whirring.
“What happened?” she asked, giving voice to the biggest question in her mind. At that, Billie Joe dropped his eyes. Ollie gazed at him for a moment. “Billie, please tell me what happened. I need to know. Billie!” She gave him a gentle shake, one to possibly just wake him up or get him to tell her. But he took it the wrong way.
With a soft cry, he pulled out of her grasp. Ollie watched as he backed away from her, casting her one last mournful glance, and sat down on the asphalt next to Mike’s stretcher. He turned away from her.
‘The third is fine physically, but he seems to have trauma emotionally.’
The voice of the police chief rang through her head. With a glance at Billie, she spun around and sought out someone who could tell her what had occurred. She finally caught the arm of the police officer who had tried to stop her from crossing the line. He jumped, startled, and looked down at her.
“Yes, ma’am?” he asked.
“Tell me what happened. Please. I need to know. My son won’t speak to me or let me touch him. I need to know what happened.” The officer bit his lip and took a deep breath.
“I…I’m really sorry I have to tell you this, but…” He looked back down at the fretful mother, his eyes sorrowful and sympathetic. “The man who was arrested for domestic violence against both your son and now his friends…was your husband.”
It was like the hardest slap in the face anyone could ever receive. Ollie just started at the man for a moment, disbelief shining in her eyes and screaming in her brain, but then logic started putting it all together. Why Billie was so frightened and uneasy whenever Steve was around. Why Steve seemed to have the inclination that he owned or controlled the boy. Why Billie had become quiet and withdrawn.
Why he’d believed that Ollie didn’t understand what he was going through. Which was the precise truth. She hadn’t understood, even though she claimed to.
‘I’m SICK of Steve!!’
That was what he’d shouted before he ran. At the moment, Ollie hadn’t acknowledged it or understood…but now she did.
“Where is he?” she asked the officer in a rough voice, fury shining in her eyes. “Where is the asshole I considered my husband?” The man didn’t respond, possibly under orders or frightened that she would maim Steve if she got close enough to him.
Ollie didn’t need an answer, for then she saw a dark, stern figure sitting in the backseat of one of the police cars. She let go of the officer and ran towards it. When she came near enough, she banged her fist against the window. Steve jumped and his head whirled around.
“I trusted you!” Ollie shrieked, banging the window again. “I fucking TRUSTED you, you motherfucking son of a bitch! I TRUSTED YOU!!” She then tried to open the door, but it was locked, and she couldn’t get in. She beat against the door with frustration, tears streaming down her face.
Four police officers came over and grabbed her arms, pulling her away from the vehicle. Steve watched from within with an expressionless face, watching his wife rage and spout curses at him.
“No! Let me go! He hurt my baby! I won’t let him get away with it!!” Ollie continued to rant, fighting against the police officers. “Damn you, Steve! I hope you rot in the very pits of hell!! DAMN YOU!”
Billie watched from the other side of the street as the officers began to subdue his mother just like they had done him. Finally, he couldn’t watch anymore and turned away, bowing his head and staring at his hands clenched around each other in his lap. A ragged cough caught his attention.
He looked up to see Mike’s glazed eyes staring straight at him, clouded with pain and disorientation. Billie leaned forward, his breath catching in his throat, and took Mike’s hand gently within his own.
“Are you…okay?” Mike wheezed. Billie Joe wished he could rip the gas mask off of the bassist’s face. It made him look so weak. Billie couldn’t stand the sight of Mike being weak.
“I’m fine,” Billie whispered, offering a small smile. “You and Tré are going to be alright. Steve’s been arrested.” Billie Joe glanced back at the police car his mother had been trying to get into, the one his stepfather was sitting in. “And I’m fine.”
Mike gave him a strange look, trying to see past the painkillers and drugs the paramedics had given him. “I meant…okay…emotionally,” he said faintly. Billie didn’t respond, only stared into Mike’s foggy blue eyes. The other boy gave him another one of those knowing looks before he slipped back into unconsciousness. Billie Joe felt his eyes watering.
“Look out, son,” one of the paramedics said, and he squatted down to lift Mike’s stretcher with his partner. Billie scuttled away and watched numbly as they lifted his best friends into the ambulences. The female paramedic that had answered his questions before gave him an encouraging look before slamming the door shut, and the two vehicles sped away, their sirens blaring and lights flashing.
A few of the police cars began leaving as well. Officers left the house with evidence proving Steve’s abusive ways, got into their cars, and left the scene. Billie’s mother, now that she’d calmed down enough to speak and act reasonably, was giving the chief Mike’s and Tré’s numbers so their guardians would be able to be notified of what had happened.
And the entire time, Billie stared down the street the ambulences had gone down, not really seeing anything but seeing everything all at the same time. ************ Yeah, that's the climax. I hope you liked it.
NOTE: THIS ISN'T THE END OF THE STORY. Unless it says "Fin" or "End" or "The End" or "Go home peeps, that's it", the story is not over. Remember that.
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Post by whatsername on Nov 9, 2005 16:00:16 GMT -5
sophie.......u are so smoking something..........SHARE, DAMMIT!
omg, lorelowell, that was amazing. i could see the whole fight happening, it was insane.......
on a happier note, i loved how tre did the whole 'choking' mike and billie thing. i do that to my friends bean and timmy a lot, cause i wove them, and they hate it. they think its that ONE drawback of having a girl as such a close friend, lol.
anyway, i gotta know how this ends ASAP........as in: UPDATE!
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Post by *Lore~Lowell* on Nov 9, 2005 19:42:41 GMT -5
Yay! Next part! ******************** PT.15
Billie stared at his fingers.
Then at the hem of his jacket.
Then at the clock.
And back to his fingers.
He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, sighing quietly. Ollie sat next to him, a magazine open on her lap. The thing is, her eyes never left one spot on the page, and she never turned it. She seemed to be lost in thought. Nearby, Tré’s and Mike’s father and stepfather were sitting in their own seats, waiting impatiently to see their boys. Tré’s dad was hunched over, his head in his hands, and Mike’s stepfather was sitting back, staring at the floor, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly in nervousness.
They’d all been sitting there for over an hour. Ollie had called the boys’ guardians and told them of what had happened, and the worried parents had come immediately, wanting to know their childrens’ conditions. Then they sat down in the clean white waiting room…and the wait began.
Billie Joe’s sisters, Anna and Holly, were somewhere else at the moment and didn’t know what had happened. Anna was over a friend’s house and Holly was at play practice. Ollie was still fretting over the fact of what to tell them.
Billie watched the second hand on the clock rotate around and around the circle’s face, counting out the minutes, seconds…
It seemed Ollie couldn’t keep it in any longer. With a sigh, she closed the magazine and slammed it down on a nearby table. She grabbed her son’s hand within her own, stood up, and pulled him out of the waiting room, out of the hospital altogether. When she came to a safe spot by the wall, she stopped and tugged him into her arms.
Billie was a little taken aback by the sudden gesture, but he remained still in her arms. When his mother finally pulled away, she had tears streaking down her face.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t see,” she whispered raggedly, her body shaking with sobs. “I could have saved you so much pain if I was only there for you, if I hadn’t been so blind. I’m so sorry, Billie Joe.” She took him in another embrace, weeping bitterly over the fact that Billie had been receiving so much pain right under her very nose. How could she be so blind???
“It’s not your fault,” Billie murmured. “Steve…he hid it well.” Ollie flinched at the sound of her husband’s name and held the boy tighter.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she suddenly asked. “I could have helped you. Why didn’t you tell me?” Billie buried his face in his mother’s shoulder.
“I…I was afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because…he had all of you―Anna, Holly, you―in his house. I was afraid that…if I told, he would take it out on you. I didn’t want that to happen.”
“Oh, Billie,” Ollie wept, holding him tight against her. “I’m so sorry this had to happen to you.” The boy didn’t respond, only let his mother hold him. They were both quiet.
After nearly fifteen minutes of standing like that, the front door to the hospital opened, and Mike’s stepdad, Dave, walked out. Ollie released her son as the man approached, looking relieved.
“They’re awake,” he reported. “The doctors are letting us see them.” Billie set off at a brisk walk, leaving the two adults behind. He entered the hospital again, hearing Dave and Ollie catch up to him, and went to the room they’d been told Mike and Tré were in.
Chad was already at his son’s bedside, and Dave rushed to Mike’s. Billie remained in the doorway, unsure of what to do. His mother stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder. The boy watched as both Mike and Tré spoke softly to their fathers, telling them of any pain or whether they were alright or not. Finally, Mike noticed Billie Joe standing on the other side of the room.
“Come here, Billie,” he said, waving his good arm.
Billie glanced at his mother, who nodded and pushed him gently forward. He made his way slowly to Mike’s bed, ever conscious of the blinding white walls and the five pairs of eyes on him. When he was close enough to his friend’s bed, he stopped and looked down, not meeting Mike’s eyes.
“Billie,” the other boy whispered. That got him to look up. Mike held out a hand, which Billie Joe took a hold of.
Mike gave a small smile. “You’re alright?” he asked softly. Billie nodded. “Steve’s been arrested, right?” Billie nodded again. Mike’s smile grew wider.
“Billie,” he said, “you’re free.”
Billie Joe sucked in a breath and dropped his eyes to the bedsheet. He stared at the thin, rough fabric for a moment, not really seeing anything, for the longest moment, then looked up again.
“Am I?” he asked quietly. “Am I really?” ********************* More comin'!
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