Chapter 9 - Shattered
Leighanne Littrell woke up as her husband started screaming. She leaned over and shook him.
“Brian, baby, it’s just a dream,” she soothed. “Wake up.”
Brian pushed her away as he sat up, breathing hard. He looked around, disoriented.
“Shhh,” Leighanne whispered, rubbing his back. “It’s over, baby. You’re safe. You were just dreaming.” She listened carefully as he breathing began to slow. “Are you bleeding?”
“I-I dunno,” Brian answered, climbing out of bed onto badly shaking legs. “I’ll go check.”
“All right,” Leighanne consented. That was her hint that her husband wanted a moment alone.
Brian went into the bathroom and flicked on the light. He squinted in the brightness as he rolled up his sleeves to see if he’d opened any of his scabs in his sleep. One on the underside of the right arm oozed slowly. He sighed and tied a piece of gauze around it. He leaned against the sink and took several deep breaths before dousing the light and getting back into bed.
“Are you all right?” his wife asked.
“I was bleeding a little,” Brian answered. “I’m okay.”
There was a long pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“It might help, baby.”
Brian turned on his side away from her. “I can’t. You just . . .”
“Wouldn’t understand?”
Brian sighed. “Yeah.”
Leighanne sat up. “Maybe not, but that’s only because you keep me in the dark. You won’t tell me anything about what happened! I want to help, but I can’t!”
Brian shut his eyes. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Don’t do this to you? What about what you’re doing to me?! I’m the one that holds you every night as you try to sleep through the nightmares! I hear you -- my husband -- screaming, but you won’t let me help. Do you have any idea what’s that like?!”
“When I talk about it, I remember . . .”
“You’re remembering anyway! Brian, you haven’t slept a single night soundly since it happened. You need to talk about it and try to cope with it.”
“I can’t.”
“So you’re giving up already?”
Brian practically leapt out of bed. “Don’t talk to me about giving up! You don’t know what we’re up against!”
“That’s only because you won’t tell me!”
“I don’t want to fight it anymore, Leighanne! We fought to stay sane, we fought to stay alive, and now we have to fight to get well! Well, I can’t do it anymore! I don’t have anything left! I can’t fight! The only fight I want is with those bastards that did all of this! But can I have that? NO! Because they ran off the minute the Feds were in sight! That’s the fight I wanted, not this!”
“Brian, a physical fight would be easy,” Leighanne said, moving closer to the edge of the bed. “It’s over and done with quickly, there are rules, and there’s a winner. But this is difficult. This is a battle with your emotions.”
“HAVEN’T I HAD ENOUGH OF THOSE FOR ONE LIFETIME?!” He picked up the glass of water from the night stand and hurled it at the wall.
They both stared at it as it shattered.
Leighanne put her hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry,” Brian said simply, going back to bed. “I’m sorry.” He turned on his side away from her.
Neither of them slept for a while.
~~~
Denise McLean watched as her son cooked breakfast. Scars ran up and down his arms and shoulders, healing slowly. She wondered if he knew that . . . she knew. She knew he’d done it all to himself. She didn’t have the heart to ask him about it. She had seen the scars and bruises on the other Boys and the looks on their mothers’ faces. They were all aching for their children. They wanted to protect their children from the monsters that had hurt them. But no monster had hurt her Alex. Alex had hurt Alex.
“Alex, are you all right?” Denise asked.
AJ grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah, Mom. I’m fine.”
Denise nodded. “Good.” That’s what he always says, she thought, attempting not to burst into tears. He won’t talk to me about it. I don’t think he’s told the psychiatrist either. Is he in denial? Why won’t he say something . . .
“Breakfast is served,” AJ said, setting down a plate of eggs and French toast with a flourish.
Denise forced a smile. “Thanks, honey.”
~~~
“Hi, honey,” Jane Carter said as her son sleepily descended the stairs. “I made you some breakfast.”
Nick shook his head. “Not hungry.”
“But you didn’t eat much dinner last night . . .”
“I know,” Nick said. “I’m just not hungry. I’ll grab something for lunch in a bit. It’s late anyway.”
Jane nodded. “All right, honey.” She ruffled her son’s messy hair as he went by.
At least he’s here with us, she thought. She had insisted her son temporarily move back in with his family while he recovered. She didn’t want him in a big house, all alone.
“Hey, squirt,” Nick said as he picked up the Sunday comics from the table and started reading them.
“I’m not a squirt,” Aaron said defensively, flicking through the TV channels. He stole a glance at his brother over his shoulder. “You all right?”
Nick didn’t looked up. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I thought I . . . last night you . . . I thought I heard --”
“You didn’t hear anything,” Nick said firmly. “You must’ve been dreaming.”
“Uh, right,” Aaron eeped, trying to concentrate on the TV. He was crying again last night, Aaron recalled. Mom wanted to go in, but he locked his door. Why is he so intent on fighting this alone? He cleared his throat. “You wanna play Devil Dice?”
Nick smiled and put down the paper. “Sure.”
The one surefire way to cheer my brother up, Aaron thought as he brother walked over to join him on the couch.
Halfway there, he collapsed.
“NICK!”
~~~
“Nick? Brian’s on the phone,” Aaron said, holding the cell phone.
Nick groaned. I am so in for it, he thought. He carefully took the phone from his brother’s hand, using the arm not attached to the IV. “Can I have a minute alone?”
His mother and brother nodded, leaving the hospital room.
“Hello?”
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“Umm --”
“We’re all having a hard enough time as it is, but no. You have to scare the hell out of everyone by starving yourself to death and ending up the hospital. I should let Howie kick your ass. That’s what he wants to do.”
“I didn’t mean to --”
“Damn it, Nick, think about other people before you do stupid shit!”
Nick broke down crying.
Brian sighed and sat down, knocking over the mail stacked on the kitchen table. “Nicky -- Nicky, calm down. I didn’t mean to yell --”
“Every time I have to eat, I just keep thinking about what happened and then I can’t . . . I just keep rememberin’ . . . and it kills my appetite . . . I wasn’t tryin’ to kill myself . . .”
“I know, I know. I just . . . I just got scared. They told me you were in the hospital and I just . . .” Brian ran a hand through his tangled hair, a tear running down each cheek. “Have you tried talking to your family about it?”
Nick shook his head violently, though Brian couldn’t see. “I can’t. I just can’t. They wouldn’t . . .”
“Get it.”
They were both quiet.
“I’ll call the other guys. We’ll come see you, all right?”
“Okay.”
“Just hang in there, Frack.”
“I will.”
“See you soon.”
“Bye.”
~~~