Eight Years Earlier



Shoveling yet another heaping spoonful of Cheerios into my mouth, I tapped my spoon on my loose tooth. “Owwwrrrr!” I mumbled, spewing cereal on my dad’s newspaper.



“Russell! Use your manners!” he scolded.



“Whaaaa?” I asked, chewing the Cheerios.



He grunted, exasperated, and returned to the business section of the paper. “Ma? Do I have to go to school today?” I whined. I’d just remembered that my homework wasn’t done and an angry 2nd grade teacher is absolutely NO fun, despite popular belief.



“Of course you do!” my mother’s clear, sweet voice called from the kitchen. “You always have to go to school!”



“Fine,” I muttered, spitting more Cheerios onto my dad’s paper. Out of nowhere the doorbell rang with a loud, DING DONG! And we all looked at it, startled.



“Who could that be?” my mom asked, popping out of the kitchen. Her dark brown hair (like mine) fell across her face and her soft caring features were creased with concern.



“I’m not expecting anyone,” my dad answered, sounding nervous. He ran a big hand through his graying hair and stood up from the table, brushing my Cheerios off his brown work pants.



He walked over to the door and looked through the peep hole. “Oh my God. It’s them.”



“Dad!” I said, “You told me never to use God’s name in vain!”



He ignored me and tip-toed away from the door, signaling for my mom to head out toward the apartment’s fire escape.



“DAD!” I yelled.



“Shhhh! We’re going to play the quiet game, okay, Russ? Don’t say anything until I tell you and I’ll give you…" he paused, thinking. "A piece of bubble gum!” he whispered and held his index finger up to his lips making a hushing gesture. I nodded. Bubble gum sounded good to me! We were halfway across the kitchen when the doorbell rang again. A muffled voice came from the hallway. “Open up, Mr. Blake,” It was the kind of voice that could tell you to eat an entire box of 64 crayons, and you would do it. It made me want to open the door.



My parents dashed for the back door and threw it open at the same time as the front door exploded. “Stop them!” the honey-voiced person called. “RUN!!!!” my panicked dad screamed. But it was too late. Three guys rushed up to us. One grabbed my mom and pushed her onto the floor, another tried to grab my dad, but he punched him the way they do in the movies and screamed, “RUN, RUSSELL!” I tried, I really did, but the third guy, smaller than the rest, and younger too, grabbed my hair and pulled me back toward him, hauling me off the ground effortlessly. I started to cry. “Let him go!” my dad yelled. “He didn’t do anything!”



“Do you think I care, Mr. Blake? Do you?” the honey-voiced man asked. Taking two steps forward, he stood right in front of me then bent over and looked me in the eyes. He asked, “How old are you, eight?”



“Seven,” I said proudly. When people guessed that I was older than I was it always made me happy. “Seven years old last Christmas!”



“Wow. That’s neat.”



“My mom said it’s good luck to be born on Christmas day,” I nodded, satisfied that I had made a good impression. “Why did you push her down?” I asked, remembering that my mom was on the floor. His voice made you forget everything. It made you want him to like you, it made you want him to be proud of you. “Why did he-” I pointed at the third big man who had taken me down, “-pull my hair? That’s really rude! My mom said never to pull hair. She said it’s a low blow.”



“It is,” he said. “That’s why he did it.” Spinning around he whipped a metal thing that I couldn’t really see, out of his pocket and pointed it at my mom. Gasping she jerked backward, trying to get away from him. The man looked at my dad and demanded, “Where’s my money?”



My dad stared directly into the other man’s eyes and said, “I told you, I don’t have it yet. The shop hasn’t started picking up business yet. I told you I would get it to you.”



“You said that last month too,” the honey man snarled. “I don’t want it later, I want it now! If I let you keep putting me off, what do you think that will say to all the others? Huh? Didn’t think of that, did you? I’ll tell you what that will say. That will tell them that they can borrow money from me and never pay it back. That they can just say ‘no’ to me! Well they can’t and you’re going to teach them that once and for all! Do you have my money or not?”



My dad turned his face away and shook his head. “Alright then. It’s settled, you’re no longer in debt,” he said sweetly. My parents looked at him shocked. “W-w-what?” my dad asked.



“Yup, it’s over.” Suddenly he turned and I saw the thing in his hand. I had only seen one once before, when I had snuck out to the living room after bedtime, and my mom and dad had been watching a cop show. It was a gun! That night when I had snuck out there, I had seen the thing fired and the person it had hit got a big bloody hole in his chest and died. Now a gun was pointed at my mom! “NOOOO!!!!” I thought I said it, but I realized it was my dad. On the show, the gun a made a loud sound like a, CRACK! But this one had something stuck to the front and it made more of a POP as it shuddered, and spat at my mom’s head.



She jerked, and blood flew into the air, a fine red mist. I started crying again. “Mom?” I whispered. My dad leaped forward and tried to hit the honey-voiced man but the big guy behind him grabbed him and forced him onto the floor, kicking and screaming, “No! NO!!! NOOO!!!!” Then the gun spat again, this time a red patch appeared on my dad’s back, but I knew he was dead too. “Dad? Mommy?” I sobbed. “WAKE UP!!!” No sound came from either of my parents and I threw myself at the man who had killed them. “You killed them?” I managed through my tears, “You killed them!”





“Don’t you forget it,” He whispered. Then they were all gone.



Present



I jerked upright, waking from the vivid flashback screaming in emotional turmoil and immediately lay back down roaring in physical agony. Pain. Everything hurt. My stomach was on fire and my chest ached. Every inch of my body felt like it had been broken into a million pieces. My vision blurred from the pain and I noticed where I was. White. White everywhere. White walls, white sheets, and glaring down on me, white light. I stared dazed, at the sterile hospital room ceiling, thinking I would never move again.



Suddenly, floating into my pain-fogged vision, a face appeared next to me. “Who are you?” I tried to ask, but all that came out was a pitiful moan pushing through my dry, cracked lips. “Don’t talk,” the man whispered, as one might to a sleepy child, “rest.” I tried to sit up again, but was rewarded with white-hot pain, searing through my abdomen. Tears sprung to my eyes involuntarily. I blinked them away. No one would ever see me cry. Never again. I’d made that promise to myself eight years ago, and I hadn’t broken it yet. “Who are y-” my choked voice trailed off, recognizing Officer Wallace. “Wha-what…”





Okay, now this may sound judgmental, but I’d only met Officer Wallace twice before, and I seriously hate him. I guess you develop feelings like that for a person when they arrest you every time they see you.



“Shhhh…”



I wanted to say, Heck no! You shhhhh! You have the nerve to—just then, it occurred to me that I was in the hospital. It all came rushing back to me. The dog, the fight, I’d thought I was dead for sure. But wasn’t I? I’d blacked out with the sound of a fire roaring my ears. Why wasn’t I dead?



I tried to keep them open, I really did, but my eye lids started to droop ever lower, until I gave myself up to unconsciousness. It felt really good.

Forty-Eight Hours Earlier



The bulletin board was so clogged with posters and pin ups in some places it was covered in almost an inch of, “Stolen Bike”, “Have you seen this kitten?”, and “Found cell phone” flyers. This was gonna be easy.



I placed my index finger on the board and scanned back and forth, up and down, looking for the highest reward prices I could find. Whoa. $200 for a golden retriever? What, did she have a diamond studded collar? I pulled Peanut the golden retriever’s flier off the board and slipped it into my backpack. “Who's next?" I asked the buliten board. I grabbed five or ten other miscellaneous posters, stuffing them into my backpack. Then, I called my mum and let her know I was on my way home. These posteres would keep me busy for at least a few days. Out of nowhere, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a streak of gold.



“Peanut?” I mumbled, spinning around in time to see a flash of deep yellow fur disappearing through the gates of the park. All I had to do was catch that dog – if it actually was Peanut – and I would have some new shoes, and spending money to spare. I started to jog after the waddling, fat retriever when I stumbled on an exceptionally sharp rock that sliced straight through the duct tape that was holding my shoe together, and lost the sole completely. I didn't even care, I needed to catch that dog. I pulled off the ruined shoe and removed the other too, just for good measure. Chucking them over my shoulder, in the general direction of a trash can, I bolted toward the street.

Where did that dog go? Oblivious to the fact that it was getting dark, I sprinted toward the middle of the road, where there would be less debris. Still managing to step on sharp stone every so often, I carried on down the road for a good quarter mile before I started to lose steam. “Peanut!” I called, resting with my hands on my knees, “Where are you Peanut? Who's a good doggy? Come here! Peanut?” my voice echoed through the empty street. Just as I was going to turn and walk home, empty handed, I heard a distant bark, followed by another. Score. “Stay where you are; I'm coming Peanut!” Yikes. I was talking to a dog. Man, I gotta work on that.



As I followed the retriever’s consistent barking, I realized I was heading for a boarded up warehouse. I wasn't exactly sure where I was. I'd gotten kind of mixed up while following the dog, but this place looked unfamiliar, and honestly, more than a bit creepy.



It was probably six stories high, but that didn't matter because it was crumbling and leaning alarmingly to one side, making it seem half that size, but twice as imposing. I was in a part of my neighborhood that I didn't know very well because my new mom and dad always told me to stay away when I was younger. They never put restrictions like that on me now though. I guess they just assumed I wouldn't be stupid enough to come here. This place was like the Pittsburgh equivalent of the Elephant Graveyard. Weird to think a place like this could be right smack dab in the middle of my neighborhood.



“WOOF! WOOF!” Peanut's barking brought me back to the present, and I looked up at the building she had chosen as her hiding place. All the windows, or should I say window frames (there was not a shard of glass left in them), were boarded, except one or two where the boards had rotted or been removed. Old couches, rusted bicycles and broken TVs surrounded the place like The Keepers of the Crap or something.“Stupid dog.”



I took a deep breath and headed toward an un-covered window. Searching my pockets, I realized my mini flashlight was in my other jeans, go figure! I pulled out my cell phone and flipped it open (yes, I did say flipped, excuse me for not having an smart phone). Guided by the faint blue light I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill and dropped onto the floor of the empty... Dance studio?



What the heck kind of building did this used to be? A dance studio on the bottom floor? Okay. Whatever. I advanced slowly, waiting for Peanut to bark again. “Peanut...?” I shouted nervously. Gosh, this place was creeping me out all of the sudden. The chills running down my spine could have had something to do with the million-and-a-half shards of myself I could see sneaking along the floor-to-ceiling room-long mirror, or the fact that the building was suddenly eerily silent.



My cellphone dimmed and I snapped it closed and then open again, brightening the light. Where was that stupid dog?! Maybe this trip wasn’t worth it. I had seen a flyer for a missing cat the had a $75 reward. But that was nothing compared to $200. I needed that money.



I padded silently across the dance floor, making my way for the door on the far side. As I reached it and looked out into the hallway, I saw a door at the far end and headed for it. A staircase lead down to some kind of basement, maybe an archive for whatever business used to be here. I closed my phone and groped for the railing. Something told me not to call out to Peanut and, I’m not sure why, but I didn’t.



The door at the bottom of the stairs was hanging off its hinges, and I was startled to see that I could.... Well, that I could see. My phone was still in my pocket, but light filtered into the stairwell through the doorway. And with it, came voices.



“Did you hear something earlier? I thought I heard a dog.”



“Nah, man. No dog. You’re paranoid.”



“I dunno. I thought I heard something.”



“Fine than! Go check for yourself! We’re not wasting any more time on this.”



“Never mind.”



I peered into the room, and saw three men grouped in a loose circle, obviously having some kind of meeting. I would have just turned around and gone back up the stairs if at that moment Peanut hadn't barked. All three men spun simultaeously to see little, old me cowering in the doorway.



S***.

Present



My eye lids fluttered open. I didn’t try to sit up. That hurt way too much. Looking around the room, I was disappointed to find it empty. I wanted to talk to James. Usually, I don’t call adults by their first names, my mom had taught me it was disrespectful, but in this case, that was sort of the point. James, James, James. Gosh I hate that name. I looked around for the nurse’s call button and spotted it on my modified TV remote. I pressed it. Nine times. Yeah, maybe I’m a little obnoxious, but I was really hungry. Instead of the sexy, glamorous nurse that one-too-many Hollywood movies brought me to expect, a tall, skinny male nurse walked into the room. He looked down at me and smiled. “Sleeping beauty awakes?” He queried.



I faked a yawn. “Just until I get a snack. Then I’ll go back to waiting for my prince.”



“Yeah... About that, sorry, but you can’t eat until we get a doctor in here to check you out,” he muttered, cringing at having to be the barer of bed news. “What would you say your pain level is right now? Zero is none, and ten is like, ‘I wish I were dead,” this time he was smiling.



Well, let me tell you, I’m not a whiner. I’m good at controlling the pain. “Right now? Other than the hunger pains in my stomach,” I said pointedly, “like, a zero. But that’s just ‘cause I’m trying not to move... Or breath,” I admitted.



The nurse winced. “That bad? I hate to ask, but can you try to sit up for me?”



“Try? I can do better than that! I can make myself blackout on cue if you want!” I smiled. “All I have to do is sit up really fast, and BAM!” I smacked the heels of my hand together, producing an impressive, SMACK! that echoed out into the hallway.



“Do you think you could go slowly?”



I nodded and ‘slowly’ levered myself up onto my elbows and pushed. Immediately, the pain hit me like a ten ton weight. I collapsed back onto the pillows, clutching myself and shivering violently. I took short quick gasps of air trying not to inflate my chest too much. I could barely make out the words the nurse was saying over the roaring in my head, but I concentrated, and heard, “Calm down, take a deep breath. I know it will hurt, but you gotta do it.” I did. It hurt. A lot. “Now take another. In, out. In, out. One, two. One, two.” My breathing slowly returned to normal, and tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away again.



“Are you okay now?” he asked, desperate.



I nodded.



“How much did it hurt when you tried?” I could hear the guilt in his voice.



I knew there were people in other countries having limbs amputated while they were fully aware as we spoke, so I was not going to say ten. They were in way more pain than me. But this was more pain that I had ever been in, in my whole life.



“Umm... eight... point five?”



“It’s not a test. Just tell me how much it hurts to you.” He looked at me like he knew what I was thinking.



“Ten.” I said, trying to sound stronger than I was. “Yeah, um... ten. I’m gonna lock in with ten. Did I win the million dollars?”



“Sorry, bro. Not even close,” he said jokingly.



“Oh well, maybe next time.” I said weakly. “Um, can I get some food now?”



“Maybe. I just got to get that doctor in here.” He smiled at me. “One minute.” Then he turned and walked out the door, sanitizing his hands as he went.



There were stupid ‘stay clean’ signs all around the room. One said, DIRTY HANDS SPREAD DISEASE. WASH THEM! Another, on the hand sanitizer dispenser, said, GEL IN, GEL OUT, GEL HERE, GEL NOW!



Just when I was thinking I would never wash my hands again, just out of spite, the doctor walked in. The next five minutes were a blur of poking and prodding and pain. I never want to be asked, “How much does this hurt?” ever again. I kept thinking about my promise not to cry, but the tears were just waiting to hop over the edge of my eye-lids and make themselves known.

Forty-Eight Hours Earlier



My eyes widenedas the three men turned to look at me. Then, I turned and bolted up the stairs. I could hear them thundering toward the door, but I didn’t care, I just needed to get out of there. I flew out of the doorway at the top of the stairs and rushed into the dance studio, looking for a weapon, anything to protect myself with.



Spotting the shattered mirror, I got an idea, and quickly whipped off my t-shirt, and rushed toward it. I wrapped the shirt around my hand, and then grabbed a large, sharp shard of glass. This would have to do. I heard noise in the hallway and bolted toward the window, leaping out into the comparative safety of the open-air.



I put on a burst of speed and sprinted around to the front of the building. I wasn’t sure what about these guys was so scary, they hadn’t been doing anything bad, but there was something, some small thing, that had screamed danger.



As I ran, my fists clenched, and yelped with pain, as the glass sliced through my shirt, and cut into my hand. I threw it away from me like it was hot, and as I did, I caught a glimpse of the direction I had come from. Clear. No one seemed to be following me. I pulled out my phone and called my mom to tell her I would be a little late, but I never stopped moving.



“Hello?”



“Hi, mum!”



“Are you almost home? Dinner is on the table.”



“No. I’ll be home in a few. I got a little distracted. I’m sorry. See you in fifteen minutes.”



“It’s okay sweet-heart. I’ll see you then! Love ya, bye.”



“Love you too, bye mom.” I snapped my phone closed just as I rounded the corner of the building, and literally ran into a parked car.



I tumbled onto my hands and knees trying not to use my injured hand to catch myself. I gabbed the bumper with my good hand before standing up, and looking straight into the eyes of one of the men from the basement. I froze. As I looked into his face, something I would never be able to explain happened. I heard my father’s voice. “RUN, RUSSELL!” it screamed panicked. As much as what I was hearing was relevant to the situation, it was tied to a memory. I painful one.



I squinted. Looking into his eyes. He was smaller than the other two men. Smaller... And he looked somehow familiar. How?!



No way.



It couldn’t be him. But it was. His fist shot out from nowhere, and nailed me in the gut. I doubled over, just as his knee came up and smashed into my face. I jerked upright, losing my balance and falling hard on my side, in the dirt.



Just then the other two men appeared, and the one in front of me kicked me in the ribs. Hard. I jerked on the ground, coughing and struggling to stand, but as I did, he kicked me again, and again, and again. Each time, it shock of pain jolted through my body. I finally squirmed out of reach of his boot, and staggered to my feet.



“What are you doing here?!” he grumbled.



“I-I-I-I was just chasing a dog.”



He slipped a knife from his a pocket and flicked it open. “Tell. Me. The. Truth.”



“I swear.”



He obviously didn’t believe me because he lashed out with the knife, at the last moment, bending his arm and slamming his elbow into my chest. Ow. One of the other men had snuck up behind me, and he grabbed me around the waist. Hoisting me in to the air, he to a few steps forward, and through the front door of the warehouse. I kicked and started to scream but as soon as I did, I was rewarded with a punch in the face.



I probably would have been crying from the pain, but I was way past crying at this point. The man carrying me, staggered down the hallway and into the stairwell before dropping me.



I tumbled down the stairs, smashing my head in the wall, and almost passing out, but I couldn’t afford to pass out. I fought the malignant worms of darkness the ate at the edges of my vision, and managed to crawl away from the footsteps that followed me. I stood one more time, leaning against the wall for support.



“What are doing here?” I was asked again.



“How much did you hear?” the third man was speaking.



“Nothing.” I spat, flecks of blood and saliva flying from my mouth.



I guess some the spit hit one of them, because suddenly I was being smashed in the chest, yet again, and I felt something in my body give-way. Probably several somethings.



“Please.” I pleaded, falling to the floor, gasping for breath. “I-I-I didn’t s-s-see anyth-th-thing!”



It was getting so hard breathe.



“We gotta get out of here,” muttered one of them to another, “Finish this.”



So they did. One little knife was all it would take to destroy every dream, every hope I ever had. And it did. Or so I thought, as I fell to the floor, blackness clawing at me and blood oozing from the hole in my stomach.



Goodbye?



Black.