Chapter 24

As he flung the door open, Jason noticed Devyn curled in the window seat like he'd done so many times before, and he had an momentary sense of relief. Devyn appeared to be peacefully sleeping, head and knees leaning against the window, arm draped across his lap.

But Jason's heart jumped into his throat as he noticed that the boy's arm was actually laying palm up in his lap, his shirt soaked in crimson, and blood was streaking down to his elbow and dripping to a small puddle on the floor by his treasured notebook.

"Oh my God," he breathed, momentarily stunned, as he began to notice the heavy bruising on the kid's jaw that was hidden by the fall of his blond hair and the bright sun haloing him. Fuck, what the hell had Brad done?

"I need a bus immediately," he vaguely heard one of the officers shouting into his radio for the ambulance as he was pushed off to the side.

They had shoved past him before he recovered enough to move. Jason felt like he'd just been dropped into a surreal alternate universe.

This couldn't be happening. He wasn't watching the officer check the boy's neck for a pulse, as the other one called a brief assessment over the radio to alert paramedics of what they'd be walking into. The officer didn't just lift up the kid's arm, gripping the wrist. And Devyn's blood wasn't seeping through the man's fingers. No, no, no, this wasn't happening, Jason continued to try to blink away the image of Devyn's blood marring the purity of the room.

"Got a cut on the arm, lots of blood," the officer's voice seemed unreal. "Got a pulse, but faint, breathing shallow..."

"No," Jason heard his own voice croak. Jesus, Brad must have stabbed--

"Oh, god," Trent's voice came from the doorway.

"Jesus," Chris breathed behind him.

"Oh, shit, no!" Lyle seemed to be trying to push his way in, but other officers were shoving the men back forcefully, clearing the pathway.

"Get BACK!" Marlin yelled at them.

Since Jason was already in the room, Sheriff Marlin just shoved him further to the side.

"Where are we?" Marlin demanded, his lips set in a grim, tense line as he looked over the small battered body curled in the window seat.

The officer lifted Devyn's wrist higher, trying to keep the wound above the boy's heart, to slow the bleeding. Jason felt his stomach revolt at the sight of Devyn's blood oozing through the man's fingers and running down his arm.

"Oh, god," Jason gagged, as he turned and retched in the corner, dropping to his knees. But no one paid him any attention.

Marlin grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom for the officer to wrap around the bleeding wound.

"Still have a pulse, so not moving him, until the bus gets here," the shorter officer said clinically, with his fingers still on the boy's neck and watching for breathing. "Pulse is thready, but moving him might make it worse."

"Any other open wounds?"

"Not that we can see. There's a knife in his lap. Looks like he tried to maybe change hands so he could slit the other one. May have attempted to--"

"What--?" Jason gasped as he slowly understood what the officer was implying. Devyn tried to kill himself? Oh, fuck, why the hell would he--? When he knew I was--?

"Shit, my paring knife," he heard a gasp from outside the door. "Fuck, it's my fault," Chris sounded distraught, "I dropped it when--"

"No, Chris, this is Brad's fault," he heard Trent trying to calm the other man down. "He's the one who beat the shit out of the kid--"

"...There's bruising on his face and some on his neck too," the officer continued assessing the situation, "looks like fingerprints..."

"Fuck, someone tried to strangle him?" Marlin whispered.

"Make a hole!"

Jason was so relieved to see a paramedic race in, followed by two more carrying a stretcher, he nearly collasped. He continued to watch the surreal scene in front of him as the medic grabbed the bleeding wrist from the officer and quickly slapped a stack of gauze over the wound and tightly wrapped it several times in a makeshift bandage.

A neck brace was wrapped carefully around the teen's thin throat as the other medic carefully cut open Devyn's bloody shirt to check for other wounds. His fingers quickly probed over the boy's chest, checking for broken bones. The third medic dropped an oxygen mask over Devyn's nose and mouth as soon as his neck was supported.

"Got substantial blood loss. Bruising on ribs, possibly broken. Facial trauma..." Jason could hear the man's voice rattling. "... no indication of spinal..."

Another one was clipping a pulse oximeter to the boy's finger and other things that looked like they would check blood pressure and maybe heart rate. Jason didn't understand everything, just that Devyn looked so small and tiny among all the officers and paramedics.

As two of the medics moved to shift Devyn's body quickly to the stretcher, another one held Devyn's severed wrist and moved wires and monitors. Jason watched in awe of the fluid precision that the three men moved in. As Devyn's limp body was positioned carefully on the stretcher, Jason caught a glimpse of the horrible bruising on the boy's ribs under the smears of blood--more than what had been there a couple days ago--just before the boy's wounded arm was laid across his chest, keeping it slightly elevated until they made it to the ambulance.

Jesus, it was so much worse than he'd thought it could be. Brad had beat the crap out of the kid, tried to strangle him. Jason ran his hands over his face as he watched the young boy being strapped onto the gurney.

"Blood pressure is dropping--"

There was a flurry of movement as one medic grabbed a clear bag of fluid, another was already swabbing his uninjured elbow and efficiently slipped in a needle. Within seconds it seemed, the medical crew had an IV going and vital fluid was being replenished into the boy's bloodstream, until they could make it to the hospital.

"Okay, move out."

Jason desperately wanted to reach out and smooth back the boy's messy hair, to grip his hand, and tell him it would be alright. But the skilled paramedics already had the unconscious teen out the door.

Instead, Jason managed to struggle to his feet and follow them down the stairs. Trent, Chris, and Lyle were already following at a safe distance, teary eyes focused on the smears of blood across the kid's arms, torso and face.

Officers kept pushing him back out of the way when he tried to get too close, trying to keep an eye on what was happening. From what he could tell, the medics seemed calm and he heard the word 'stabilized' as they were loading him onto the ambulance.

"What the hell is going on?" Jason heard a familiar voice.

He turned, trying to place the source.

"Devyn?" he heard the voice pitch higher in worry and panic. "Devyn!"

Then his eyes fell on the ebony-haired teen that had made Devyn so happy lately. His red jeep was angled off into the grass, the door hanging open as the teen had obviously abandoned the vehicle when the police wouldn't allow him to drive any closer. He'd managed to run halfway up to the house, but now he was being restrained by an officer, who was warning him not to come any closer.

"Is that Devyn? Is all that blood?!" the kid was demanding to know. "Oh, my God, there's so much--"

Jason could see the kid looked pale and anxious, especially since no one was telling him anything.

"What the hell happened? Please, just let me--" the boy begged, his voice strained with grief.

Jason took another glance at Devyn being loaded into the ambulance, finally feeling a sense of hope as they shut the doors and drove off.

He started over toward Michael, who had stopped struggling with the officer. He could tell that the officer was sympathetically trying to explain what he could to the teen, that Devyn was alive and being taken care of, as Michael nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. Jason noticed instantly when the teen spotted him because the chiseled features turned from panic and worry to fury in seconds.

As Jason walked closer, Michael broke free of the officer and stormed up to him. Jason should have realized what was coming, but he didn't have time to duck the fist thrown at his jaw.

"Fuck!" Jason reeled from the blow.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Michael yelled, trying to get to him to take another swing, but the police officer had grabbed the kid's arms by then.

"You let this happen!" Michael accused, and Jason felt the rebuke slam into his chest.

He had let this happen. He should have just taken Devyn with him to the police station. He should never have allowed Devyn to talk him into letting him go back into that house. He just never thought --

"Michael," he breathed as he bent over, hands on his knees as he choked in air, "Michael, I'm so sorry."

He slowly rose, wiping the blood from the corner of his lip, where Michael's fist had split it.

"You're sorry?" Michael scoffed increduously. "You're fucking sorry?"

"Kid," the officer's voice harshly interrupted, pushing Michael back away from Jason, "Calm down, right now. Or I'm going to have to remove you. You understand?"

Michael took another step back, deflating. Jason stepped hesitantly closer as the teen's anger seemed to be seeping into tormented misery.

"You let him get beat to hell? And you're sorry?" Michael whispered.

"Michael, I didn't--"

"Hey, kid," the officer drew the boy's attention, "I know you're upset, but this guy isn't the one who hurt Devyn."

"But he didn't stop--"

"Actually, he did. He's the one who came to the station today with evidence against Mr. Milburn. Without him, Milburn wouldn't be in custody now."

Michael's dark eyes looked up at Jason suspiciously, like he didn't quite believe that he was innocent. And he wasn't. Jason knew that. He was as guilty for letting it happen as anyone else. He had sat there at the kitchen table, watching the pain in the kid's eyes, the cry for help in his unapproachable attitude, and he'd berated the kid for it. He'd just sat with his cards folded on the table in front of him, just watching the game play out--watching the kid, the deuce, as Chris had called him, rally desperately against Brad's full house of puppets.

Jason held his arm out. "Come on. Let's go to the hospital," he urged. Michael slowly stepped forward, reluctantly allowing himself to be comforted as Jason wrapped his arm around the teen's shoulders.

"Something tells me Devyn's going to need to see you when he wakes up."