Hiding - 1. Hiding

I don’t get it. I really don’t. I’m lying in a hard uncomfortable bed and these people keep coming up to me and talking. I don’t understand what they are saying but I watch their mouths move; open, shut, open, shut. They point to things and their voices get louder.

I wince when they do that. It hurts. Sometimes I think that is all that is left to me; pain. Then again, I don’t remember anything else so maybe that’s all there really is. I don’t know. Those people don’t seem to be in pain but maybe they can hide it.

Hiding. I think that’s what I’m doing. That just came to me. I’m not sure if I’m thinking really but all of a sudden I know I’m hiding. I don’t know what from, I can’t remember, but it’s bad. I hear the voices again and I panic. I’m supposed to be hiding. No one is supposed to see. Move, move, move!

Pain!

***

“Jesus Christ!” The doctor and nurse went running when they heard the agonized scream from Room 11. The patient was nowhere in sight. Rushing into the room they found him unconscious on the floor in a tangle of blankets and wires.

“How did he even move?” Evan asked. The doctor knelt down and began examining him.

“I’m not sure. The pain of his injuries should have been enough to keep him unconscious, even if we didn’t have him on enough medication to drop a horse.” Paul put his stethoscope back around his neck. “We’re going to need more x-rays to make sure he didn’t do more damage to his ribs or broken arm. We’re probably going to have to redo some stitches, damn it.”

They gingerly picked the boy up and put him back on the bed. Evan and Paul quickly checked the IV’s, wires, and tubes. “I’m going to have to replace this Foley,” Evan said. He quickly got a kit and replaced the damaged catheter. “Okay, all ready. I’ll take him down to x-ray.”

Paul scribbled out the orders for the chest and arm x-rays and hung the chart on the end of the bed. “Make sure they know to rush these films. I don’t want to have to take the poor kid back into surgery, much less another emergency surgery.”

Evan nodded. “Will do, Dr. Michaels.”

Paul sighed as he looked at the bloody stripes on the floor. The kid’s back did break open when he fell. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. He called maintenance to get some cleaning staff up in the room to take care of the mess and then went to the doctor’s lounge. Sinking into one of the chairs there he closed his eyes. As hard as he tried he couldn’t stop the tears that leaked out.

Someone needed to cry for the kid. He had seen him before the police and ambulance showed up; the horrible conditions he had been left to die in. They had tried to fix as much of the damage as they could but there was so much they couldn’t touch with a scalpel. The mental damage might be more than anyone could hope to fix.

***

“Dad!” A young man went running into his house, the back door slamming.

“Daniel Roberts! How many times do I have to tell you not to slam that door?” his father scolded without looking up from his paper.

“It’s important Dad! It’s the kid, he needs help!” Danny was breathing hard, his chest heaving. He looked scared.

“What kid needs help? What are you talking about?” Paul dropped the paper and walked over to his son, giving him a quick hug to calm him. “Now slow down. Tell me what’s going on.”

Tears in his eyes, Danny shuddered and then spoke, “I saw him for the first time this morning. I… I broke a window in the house behind ours hitting my ball, or it sounded like I did. I hopped the fence and I was looking before I went to apologize. I broke a small window in the basement but when I looked inside there was this kid in there.

“I tried talking to him, to ask for my ball back but he just looked at me. Then I heard a man yelling inside and he looked so scared Dad. He told me to run. The door to the basement slammed open and this big guy saw me looking in and started screaming and cussing. I was so scared I ran back here and hid in my room. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Danny was rambling, his shock making it hard for him to think.

“That’s okay son, we’ll talk about that later. Focus now, who needs help?”

“The kid next door. I went over there, you know, to try and talk to him and stuff after I saw the man leave. No one answered the door and then when I went to the basement window I saw him.” Danny let out a sob, “He was laying on the floor, Dad, and he’s covered in blood. His arm looks like it’s broken and he was looking at me, I could see his eyes but he wouldn’t talk to me.”

Danny was shaking and Paul eased him into a chair by the table. Handing him the cordless phone Paul said, “Call 9-1-1 and tell them to send the police and ambulance. Tell them I will be in there with him so don’t shoot me.” He ran to the cupboard and grabbed his first aid kit before charging out the back door, letting it slam behind him. The short fence was no trouble with his long legs. Running around the house he checked to make sure the car was still gone from the driveway before he burst through the front door, breaking the lock and leaving it wide open.

He walked quickly through the living room, past a couch and big screen TV. The house was clean and neat but there were no pictures on the walls or any sign that a teen lived there. Paul walked into a kitchen and looked around. He headed for a door in one corner with a thick padlock on it. He had no hope of breaking that lock so he stepped back. Using the counter to balance he kicked the door repeatedly until it broke away from the hinges. Pushing it aside he rushed down into the dim basement, empty of anything but a mattress, bucket, and a baseball into one corner. The boy was lying in the middle of the bare floor on his stomach.

Paul’s first reaction was one of shock and horror. The kid looked young and was extremely emaciated. His blond hair was lank and greasy, hanging in blue eyes that were open but staring at nothing. Worse was the blood splashed around him and the bloody mess of his back and legs. Paul dropped to his knees and began assessing him, checking his pulse and finding it thready. The boy was barely breathing and his skin was both cool and clammy.

“Shit!” Paul took a pair of scissors out of his kit and cut off the remains of the bloody t-shirt and shorts. They smelled dirty, beyond the scent of blood. “Hold on kiddo, help is coming.” Not getting any reaction Paul kept on examining him for other wounds. ‘Broken arm, possible broken ribs, whip marks. Signs of malnutrition, dehydration,’ he shook his head. ‘This is bad’.

“Police! I'm coming in!”

“We’re down in the basement!” Paul yelled. “We need the ambulance here, stat!”

Booted feet came thundering down the wood stairs. “Put your hands up!”

Paul’s hands went into the air. "I live behind here. I'm a doctor. My son is the one who called 9-1-1."

"Just keep them up!"

"I understand you are doing your job but I really need to keep assessing him for the paramedics. I need to put my hands down. My name is Paul Michaels; I am a doctor at St. Mary's. I will not harm him, especially with you standing here."

The officer looked at him warily but nodded. Paul began running his hands down the legs of the prone teen. Not finding any open breaks he went back to take the kid's pulse. It was even weaker. "Damn it. He has to have internal bleeding. Can you get a rush on that ambulance?" Paul asked the officer.

He turned his head and spoke into his mike, "Dispatch, this is Officer Tenter, I'm on scene. I need an eta on that bus." His radio crackled and a female voice blared out in the quiet basement.

"Just pulling up outside. Is the scene secure?"

"Scene secure. I could use some back-up for when the homeowner gets back though. This is some bad stuff Evie."

The paramedics came into the house and the officer called out to them. They came down the stairs carefully with a backboard. They hustled over to Paul and the boy. "Excuse us, sir, you're going to have to move aside so we can treat your son," one said to Paul, trying to nudge him out of the way.

"He's not my son, I'm his neighbor," Paul told him as he shifted away so they could do their job. “My name is Dr. Michaels. I've assessed his initial condition as best I could. He appears conscious but unresponsive, pulse fifty and thready, respirations ten. His right pupil is blown, most likely a result of the large contusion on his temple. Obvious fracture of the right radius and ulna and possible broken ribs, again based on large contusions to the area. Multiple bruises and lacerations from his neck to his knees; mostly likely from a whip of some sort.

"His pulse has been growing weaker since I got here; there isn't much blood around him so I suspect internal injuries. Apparent malnutrition and dehydration. We need to get him to the hospital right now."

Paul stepped back as they carefully rolled the teen onto the backboard. His entire body flinched when it came in contact with the sheet covered plastic but he didn't make a sound. "Looks like we can add responsive to pain but still no response to other environmental stimuli," one paramedic said, jotting down notes. The other paramedic was busy attaching the belts around the thin body.

He looked at the automatic cuff, "Blood pressure 100 over 60, pulse rate continuing to fall. Let's get this kid over to General."

Paul interrupted, "Take him to St. Mary's."

They were picking up the backboard and starting to tote him out of the room. The officer went up the stairs first to hold the door. "St. Mary's is a private hospital, doc," one of the paramedics said.

"I'll be responsible. The best pediatric surgeon in the state works there and is a friend of mine. He'd do this pro bono even if I wasn't asking. Just take him. I'll call the Chief right now." Paul pulled out his cell phone and called the hospital, asking to be transferred to the Chief for an emergency call. He put his phone on speaker. The paramedics were busy trying to navigate the stairs but he could tell they were listening.

"This had better be serious Paul, I'm doing an emergency appendectomy on a ten year old," an annoyed voice said, echoing through the open speaker.

"Let O'Brien take it. You're going to need to get down to Emergency. I'm sending over a neighbor kid, he's in bad shape, Anton, really bad. Looks like he was abused, beaten. Long-term too." He held his breath; he knew how Anton felt about child abuse.

The swearing coming through the speaker was expected but still made him blush. "O'Brien, get over here and finish this. Make sure you flush the abdominal cavity thoroughly."

"Yes, sir."

"What's the ETA on the kid, Paul?" Anton asked.

"He's literally a neighbor, so ten minutes via ambulance. They just need to hear approval to bring him in, procedure is General. I'll foot the bill; just need some back-up and your steady hands to help do the work."

"You've got it. The hospital has funds for pro bono anyway. Just have them get the kid here, I'll be waiting. Scrub in as soon as you get here."

"I will." Paul hung up his phone. "Good enough for you guys?"

"Sure thing. St. Mary's it is." The paramedics were quickly moving out the door. Paul went to follow them.

"Could you wait a minute doc? I need to ask you some questions," Officer Tenter said, putting a hand on his arm.

"We need to make it quick. I'm needed at the hospital."

He nodded and held his pen and paper ready. "You said your son called? How do you know the victim?"

"I don't. My son saw him this morning when he accidentally hit his ball and broke the basement window. He said he saw a big man come into the basement yelling and ran home. He went back later and saw the boy on the floor and came and got me. That's when I told him to call 9-1-1 and rushed over," Paul said. He went back into the kitchen to wash his hands; he couldn’t go home with blood on them. Danny would freak out. He didn’t need that on top of the stress he was already feeling.

"Do you know the boy's name? His parent’s names or where we could find them?" The officer was scribbling in his notepad.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sarcoplis. I've never been over here before. I really don't know them, I have only seen them in passing at neighborhood events; they've lived here for almost two years. We've never seen a kid here; I assumed they were childless." The officer was still scribbling as Paul dried his hands. "Look, I really need to go. I assume you'll be by the hospital after you are done. I will answer any more questions you have then."

"Okay, thanks Doc. I'll definitely come by the hospital later to check on him." He handed Paul a card with his name and extension number on it. They were walking into the living room when a large, imposing man walked in the front door.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" he bellowed in surprise.

"Mr. Sarcoplis?" Officer Tenter asked.

"I am. What in the hell is going on?" he snapped. He glared at Paul.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news. It appears your son was badly beaten. We have some questions for you and your wife and then you can go see him in the hospital."

The man's entire face flushed red, "You took him out of the basement? The boy must be confined so his disease doesn't spread. He is impure, contaminated." Mr. Sarcoplis advanced on them, "Bring him back! We are not done purifying him, he's unclean, unclean!" the man screamed.

"Sir, you need to calm down. Step back," Officer Tenter warned him

Mr. Sarcoplis turned his anger on Paul. "You! I know you; you’re from that house behind me. You are a sinner! Your son was tempting the little bastard into sin with him just this morning. I've seen how you flaunt your devil ways. Get out! Get out!" The man shoved Paul before the officer could stop him, thrusting him back into a large bookshelf. Paul’s breath was knocked out of him as his back slammed into the shelf. He fell to the floor; books and knick-knacks raining down on him.

"You’re under arrest! Hands behind your back!" The officer struggled with the incensed man.

"Freeze!" A new officer stood in the door, gun trained on Mr. Sarcoplis where he fought the hold Officer Tenter had on him. Mr. Sarcoplis saw the black pistol trained steadily on his forehead and froze. His mouth didn't stop running though, even as he was handcuffed and forced to kneel on the ground.

"You'll all be sorry for this. I'll have your badges." Spit sprayed from his mouth. "You'll all rot in hell with the rest of the sinners." He continued to rave as the second officer holstered his weapon. They all ignored him.

"Thanks, Saul. I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

The other officer nodded, “Well I’d hate to tell your wife I let you get beat up at dinner tonight.” They both grinned.

Paul stood up from the mess on the floor. “I'll assume you want to press charges," Officer Tenter said to him.

"Damn right!" he winced, rubbing his back. "I think we both understand exactly who hurt that boy. Lock up is the best place for him for now. I really need to get to the hospital though. Can I fill out my statement later?"

Just then another person came running in, a woman this time. "Oh my god! Jerry, are you okay? What are you doing to my husband?"

"Mrs. Sarcoplis?"

"Yes! What is going on here?"

The second officer was pulling a still raging Mr. Sarcoplis out the door but Officer Tenter stopped his wife from getting close to them. "Ma'am, we suspect your husband has beaten and severely injured your son. He's on his way to jail and the ambulance is taking your son to St. Mary’s."

Paul broke in, "We'll need your consent to do surgery to save his life. He's very close to dying."

She sneered. "That filthy sinner can die for all I care. Nothing more than he deserves for his perversions. My husband was doing his duty to remove the evilness staining his immortal soul."

Paul flinched back and his mouth dropped open in shock. "How can you say that? He's your son! You would let him die? "

"Gladly. He's a sinner. He deserves to die. At least then his debt would be paid," she said nastily.

Paul looked sick. Officer Tenter was already pulling out cuffs. "Ma'am, you're under arrest. Place your hands behind your back.”

Mrs. Sarcoplis' eyes went wide. She spluttered, "What... how dare you! You have no right..."

Paul almost ran out the door, already on his phone to the hospital’s legal department. They would need emergency authorization to perform surgery. He hopped the fence and rushed in his house for his car keys.

"Dad?" Danny said warily, shock showing on his face as he stared at the blood all over Paul’s clothes.

"I'm fine. An ambulance came and took the boy to the hospital. His parents are under arrest so you don't need to worry that they'll come over here. Just lock up behind me and stay home today, okay? I don’t know when I'll be back." Paul leaned over and kissed his son on the forehead.

"Okay, Dad," Danny said, blushing after Paul moved away.

"Just... I love you, son. You know that right?" Paul asked softly.

Danny nodded, a little confused. "I love you too," he said.

Paul smiled and pulled a twenty out of his wallet. "You can order pizza for dinner if I'm not back."

"Thanks Dad. Let me know how he's doing, will you? I just feel... I don't know. I guess I feel responsible."

"Look son, I can't stay and talk about this with you right now, Anton needs me, but this was not your fault. Whatever happened to that boy has been going on for a long time."

Danny looked sad. "That's just not right!"

Paul sighed, "No son, it's not."

***

More voices and clicking noises. There are bright lights behind my eyes. I don't want to open them. Please let me be dead. Please let me be dead.

I lost track of time again. The voices went away for a time and I am left alone; beeping noises and dripping the only sounds I can hear. I float, adrift in a sea of fiery pain. The voices come back; hands touch me and move my body. Bursts of pain break through the barrier and a great tidal wave of agony washes over me and I feel myself just fade away under the onslaught. Let me be dead. Please let me be dead.

***

"You’re going to be okay, Joseph. Can’t you try and talk with us?" Paul and Anton stood in their white coats and stared down at the scared boy in the bed. The teen stared back at them, shrinking away. Birth records showed his name was Joseph Sarcoplis. He was fourteen and his medical records stopped at age twelve, as well as his school records and any proof of his existence at all.

Anton pulled Paul out of the room and into the doctor’s lounge. They hugged, both needing the comfort though they tried to hold displays of affection to a minimum at the hospital. “Why Anton?” Paul said in a small voice. “How can anyone have such a beautiful child and do that sort of thing to them?” He looked on the verge of tears and leaned into Anton, needing the embrace.

“I don’t know, babe. The world is full of bad people. All we can do is try to put the pieces back together as best we can.” Anton stroked his back. “It was hard enough with Danny; do you think we would be able to help another abused teen?”

“I can’t bear for him to go into the system right after something like this. He needs to be with people who are really willing and able to help him. Can we think about calling Social Services and renewing our foster parent license?”

Anton leaned forward and gave Paul a quick kiss. “Yeah babe, we can think about it.”

Paul looked frustrated. “He won’t even talk to us right now. Maybe he wouldn’t want to live with two gay guys. We need to talk to Danny too. This has been hard on him; he had nightmares last night again. I don’t want to push him into a relapse.”

"Of course, Danny is part of our family, an important part. We couldn’t do this without him,” Anton said. “Let’s give it a day or two and then talk to him. Joseph was starved nearly to death, dehydrated, beaten and then went through surgery. That's a lot to go through and he won’t be ready to come home for a while. We have time for him to get used to us if it all works out for him to come live with us.

“Right now I would be shocked if he was willing to trust us with all he’s gone through; even if he wasn't doped to the gills. He will need some time to learn that not all adults are like his parents. I've called psych down for a consult. Dr. Sanghi is the best, she helped Danny; she can help Joseph too."

***

I am not as out of it as they seem to think. I hear what they say and now I remember the words. I now understand the strange people are doctors. I dart my eyes around the room now that they are gone. The pain is better. I won't trust them though. They might seem nice but once Mr. Sarcoplis seemed nice too. Back... before. Before they found out. Before they said they were no longer my parents. I don't remember much from that time, the magical 'before'. It hurts to remember; I feel so confused.

Soft bed, warm showers, food that didn't come in a can with a dog on it. Before touch meant pain and I wasn’t a dirty sinner. I sometimes stared out my little window and watched. I saw the men in white coats once through a hole in the bushes. They were doing that thing; the one that my parents said was sin. The one they caught me doing in the before time. Did the kissing mean they were sinners too? Was this hell? Did God finally forgive me and let me die like I prayed for?

***

"He's shut down. I don't know if he's in too much pain or just too afraid, but he won't even look at me. Do you know of anyone he's responded to in the past? A family friend or neighborhood kid he might open up to?" Dr. Sanghi asked. She and Paul were sitting at a table drinking coffee in the doctor's lounge and talking about Joseph.

"The family moved in about two years ago. I never saw the kid, not even during the summer. Danny said Joseph told him to run when he saw him the morning we found him. Other than that I don't know if I've heard him make a single sound other than that scream when he fell out of bed. He doesn't trust us," Paul said sadly.

"I'm not surprised. What I've seen of the police report and the old injuries his x-rays showed he's been a victim of extreme abuse for some time. I don't know what to do with him. He is most likely not going to respond to any adults but he needs help. I can see it, this great need to share his pain, but it's walled up behind a dam that I can't breach from the outside. Do you think Danny would be willing to talk to him?"

Paul looked hesitant. "I don't know. He still has nightmares sometimes, even after all these years. I don't want to make him have another relapse."

Dr. Sanghi patted his arm, standing up from her chair. "I understand though I think it might actually help him to use his own experiences to help someone else. At the very least he would have a good idea of where Joseph is mentally and be prepared for it. But if you think it's too much for him, I understand. I’ll try to think of something else."

Paul sank back in his chair, chewing on his lip. He sighed. "I'll ask him. He's been pretty upset over this whole situation. He feels bad he didn't get help right away but he had a flashback when he saw that man screaming. It might help him feel better about that too."

Dr. Sanghi looked concerned. "Do you want me to schedule him for a few sessions?"

Paul thought about it. "No, not right now. I'll call you if he doesn't bounce back. He's a pretty happy kid most of the time now." He stood up and gave Dr. Sanghi a quick hug, "That's due in large part to you."

"Hey, you put up with more than most people would, even if it was their own kid," she reminded him. "You took on an abused teenager that needed a lot of time and attention and turned him into a happy, loving kid. I wouldn't expect him not to have some relapses, even if it's been almost three years. But maybe these guys can help each other out."

Paul nodded. "I'll see if he wants to come to the hospital later today. He has baseball practice until four."

"Thanks Paul."

***

Voices again. One soundd different. Softer. Wait... now it's closer.

"Hi," the new voice says. It's so quiet my head doesn't hurt at all. "My name is Danny. I wanted to come and talk to you."

I can't help it; the voice is too much. I opened my eyes. Sitting in the chair beside the bed is a boy. Well, he looks like a teenager with those wide shoulders and brown stubble on his face so he can’t be that young. I stared at him, I've seen him before. My head hurts too much to think of it.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry." His brown eyes drilled into mine. Tears filled his eyes and he sniffled.

No, that's wrong. He is meant to be happy. I know I've seen him before, smiling and laughing. He's like a sun, my sun. Memories flowed into me over the waves of pain. The window. I remember now. Watching him play with his things, talking and laughing with the men that came in wearing the white coats. He lives with the men Mr. Sarcoplis said were filthy sinners. He said they should all die. I don't want him to die and go to hell! My face scrunched up and I felt tears in my eyes.

"What's the matter? Are you in pain? Do I need to get a nurse?" Danny panicked and stood up, backing toward the door. He was going to leave.

"No," I croaked. "Please, don't go."

Danny stopped. Oh thank god he stopped. He moved back to the chair but he still look upset. He was gripping his hands together so tight that his knuckles were bone white. He was shaking a bit but determination flowed across his face and he squared his shoulders.

"Look, I can understand if you hate me. I know how you must feel right now. My last foster parent before Dad hurt me really bad. I was so mad that no one said anything. The other kids just let him do it. When I saw your dad it all just hit me again and I was afraid; so afraid. I hid in my room but you couldn't. I didn't help you; just like those kids didn't help me. I'm sorry." Tears flowed down his face.

I stared at him. He had been hurt? Why do people do that? What’s wrong with them? I felt a burning rage that someone would dim the bright happy sun of his soul. I had watched him for months when I was chained to my mattress by my injuries. He had kept me sane as it got worse and worse. I didn't know what to believe anymore but I had to make the pain in him go away.

"It's okay. Not mad," I forced out. "My fault."

Danny shook his head gently, "No! It's not your fault. No matter what, no one should treat anyone like that. Like I was treated, like you were treated. We're human beings!" he said in a fierce whisper.

"But I..."

"Nothing. Nothing you could have done, Joseph. You are a good person."

I couldn't help but sigh. I used to feel that way. Maybe I could again. I gave him a tentative smile.

He chuckled and smiled back, "Hey, you smiled Joseph! You should do that more often!"

That made me frown. I hate that name. I want this boy to call me something else, not the name they used. I want him to talk to me, the real me. I think that would be good. "Joey."

Danny smiled, his natural happiness bubbling out. "Joey," he repeated.

I guess he wants to talk to the real me too.

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