Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2003 21:59:42 +0100 From: Angela Mynah Subject: Angels Bruise so easily Angels bruise so easily A short story by Angela Mynah Angela_mynah@msn.com This story refers to cross generational sex of both a homosexual and a heterosexual nature. There are also scenes involving incest. If this story is illegal in your area or you are offended by such material, leave now. This story is fictional, however the issues that are raised in it, are not. This story deals with some very disturbing subjects. However, it is meant to educate, enlighten and entertain rather than frighten the reader. Although descriptions are based on case history, care should be taken to remember that this is a fictional story. Take the time to read and reflect, for you could save a life." Whilst this story can be free standing, you will get far more of an understanding from it if you read `For the love of a Bigot' first, followed by `The Martyr to Ignorance' then `A Victim of learning'.. ******************************************************************* Angels bruise so easily The ring was a masterpiece of the jeweller's craft. It was based on the number seven. There were seven strands of gold twisted together to form a thin twine. There were seven of those thin twines platted together to form the basic ring and at the intersections to the front of the ring, there were set, seven small diamonds. This was Simon's father's ring and this was the seventh time that the fist wearing it slammed into the side of Simon's eleven year old face. Don Mason, Simon's father, had not been impressed to see Simon walk up the road in public holding an older boys hand. He had merely grunted some form of acknowledgement to the sixteen year old boy, when the lad explained that the youngster has been given quite a beating in the playground at the end of the school day. His mood took an even harder attitude when he found that Simon had made little or no attempt at defending himself. However when he found out that the kid's sister, his own daughter, had been telling the boys at the school that Simon was gay, he lost his temper completely. He waited for her to come home from the same school and when she did, he ordered her to her room and started to shout and curse at her. He went quiet for a few seconds as she offered her side of the story. She knew the boy was gay and could prove it. It was as simple as that, but she made it worse for the unwitting boy when she suggested that Don should ask Simon for himself. Simon had always been the favourite in the house, and had always been given preferential treatment over his older sister. His coming into this world had been little short of a miracle, though it had cost the family the life of his mother. When Sharon had first become pregnant, Don went to the pub and bought all there drinks celebrating the expected son. It was not to be. Nine months later Claire arrived, pretty as a picture but a Girl, a bloody daughter. What flaming use was a daughter? Don reacted the only way he knew how. The day Sharon and Claire came back home from the maternity ward, he went to the pub and got drunk. On returning he beat up his wife and it was only by chance he lost his footing and fell to the floor, hitting his head on the way down. His unconsciousness saved Sharon from any further beating that evening. It was three years and several beatings later that Sharon informed him that she had fallen pregnant again. Only once did she mention the possibility that it could be a sister for Claire. He never hit her near her stomach in case she was carrying his son, but her head and chest received a volley of blows that taught her not to mention that possibility again. He ended by telling her that if it was another girl, he would stick it back up where it had come from and probably stuff Claire back up there too. He wanted a son and heir. He demanded a son, it was to be a boy or nothing. Girls were weak useless things, good for nothing other than domestic chores and of course sex. Boys on the other hand, well they grew into men. Enough said. This `agreement' being sealed with a punch was the last time the suggestion of a girl was mentioned. Don was not present at the birth, as it turned out, that was a blessing. It was a difficult birth as old injuries from past beatings had taken their toll. Simon Charles Mason arrived on this earth at ten fifteen in the morning, and a little less than an hour later Sharon Denise Mason departed it. Don's attitude to this was simple. No problem, the woman had done what she was put on the planet to do, and at least she'd got it right this time. All that was eleven years ago. Since then Don had employed a succession of child minders, none of which lasted for much more than a year or so, always getting fed up with his unwelcome sexual advances. In that period Gifts and treasures rained down on the boy Simon. Claire was lucky if her father even noticed that she was there. It was perhaps a little odd how Claire related to this treatment. She was determined to get her fathers affection. She was in fact much more like him than either of them had realized. At the age of fourteen she was doing all the cooking and laundry, and, generally speaking running the household. Her hatred of Simon was both total and completely understandable. The day she discovered that Simon was showing some gay attributes was the day that was to change her life for ever. Next door there lived a young family, Mother Father and a seven year old boy called Terry. Claire would often baby sit for them to earn a few pounds. If Don was going down to the pub, he insisted that she took Simon with her, rather than leave the lad in the house on his own. It was on those occasions that Claire noticed Simon was becoming aroused in the company of Terry. The way Terry had been raised, he had no shyness about his body and would often get ready for bed in front of both Simon and Claire. Whilst it amused Claire to see the naked child, she noticed that Simon not only went out of his way to get a good view, but also he was also sexually aroused by it. Her plan, as much as it was, was simple and therefore highly effective. Whenever she was baby sitting Terry, she would suggest that Don went out, she would look after both boys. It was this attitude that was achieving two ends. Firstly, Don started to warm to her, she was looking after his treasured son as well as letting him get down to the pub. That was what women were for, and second thing the plan achieved was that it was giving Simon a lot of opportunities to see the naked Terry, allowing the homosexual side of his nature to develop. She was now letting Simon bath Terry, while she said she watched the television. In fact she was standing outside the bathroom listening to the conversation within. Claire soon established that Simon was touching Terry intimately, now all she needed was proof. She knew her fathers feelings towards homosexuals and if she could prove to her father that Simon was one, she would start to get the goodies instead of Simon getting them all the time. She didn't have to wait too long. A few days later it was hot. Terry was playing in his garden. There was a paddling pool that had been set up and as the gardens were very private Terry would be naked. Claire knew this from experience. It was a Sunday. This was to be the day that she had been waiting for. Mr and Mrs Newley, Terry's parents, had to go to visit an elderly relative. They didn't want to take Terry as the relative was old and frail, not long for this earth. It was no place for an active seven year old boy. They called upon Claire to ask if she would act as child minder again. Claire of course agreed to do this but said that as she was still doing her school homework, she would send Simon in first and go in about an hour later. The Newley's accepted this and went happily on their way. Claire sent Simon in next door to look after the boy, and suggested to her father that he went down to the pub and had a drink while she prepared Sunday lunch. She didn't have to suggest it twice, he was out of the door and striding away, towards his beer in seconds. There was a tree on the boarder of the two gardens and the boys had made a tree house in it. Claire went into Simon's bedroom and took his digital camera from his desk. Quietly she climbed the tree and entered the tree house. From that vantage point she could see the two boys but they could not see her. The scene was perfect. The zoom lens pulled into close-up the spectacle of Simon on his knees, his face buried into Terry's crotch. In twenty minutes, Claire has fifteen photographs of Simon enjoying Terry in numerous ways. It was, she thought, a pity that anal sex was not one of them, but what with the blow job plus the masturbation and the kissing with both boys ending up naked, it would be enough. She went back into the house and made backups of the pictures. She thought of blackmailing Simon but no, this was to be a quick execution. Not painless, but quick. The final part to her plan was to wait till the start of the summer holidays, or at least the last few days of the school term. She knew of her father's violent reputation and had on several occasions been the unhappy recipient of his temper. The summer holidays would give Don plenty of time to beat the living daylights out of Simon, without his having to go to school bruised up. Also by the time School started, things should have settled down, with the new pecking order established. She would, in her own way, rule the roost by then. Men! They were so predictable. The day Claire `Outed' Simon was the day that Simon was beaten up at school. It was the day that Peter Davis rescued Simon and took him home. It was the day that saw Don in Claire's bedroom, white with rage, listening to her telling him about his precious son. "Well go on then, ask him yourself. If he lies about it and says he is not queer and is not sexually abusing Terry next door, you can load this disc on his computer and see for yourself" She handed Don a disc that contained copies of the photographs of Simon's `indiscretions'. He was shaking when he took it. He so wanted to punch this silly little bitch, but he knew that there was no way she would have said all she did if she couldn't back it up. He couldn't quite get his mind round the possibility that his one and only offspring worth having, was a queer. A queen, a faggot. No it couldn't be true. He calmly walked out of Claire's bedroom and into his own. He loaded the diskette onto his own computer and looked disbelievingly at the images it held. Still calm, so very calm, he walked into Simon's bedroom and smiled at the boy. "Simon, come here and sit next to daddy. I want to ask you a few things. From what I have been told, you like boys rather than girls, is that true? Also I hear that you like Terry next door a lot too, is that also true? Do you love him and do sex things with him?" All the time Simon was nodding yes and saying that he loved Terry and yes they did things, Don was holding a smile on his face. The only danger sign that Simon should have noticed was the shade of red that Don turned when he heard Simon say that he wanted to sleep with Terry. Claire was listening at her bedroom wall to Simon's bedroom when Don stood up and delivered to Simon the first punch. "YESSSSS" she thought to herself as she heard Simon scream as the blows started to come hard and fast. The volley of physical and verbal abuse lasted for only five minutes, but they were five minutes of abject joy for Claire as she heard Simon's body being hurled against the wall and punches raining down on him. She heard the door slam and giving her father time to go downstairs, she went into Simon's room to gloat. Eleven years she had waited for this moment. She quietly opened Simon's door and walked in hoping to see a bruised and sobbing Simon on the bed, a condition she had been in so often. She was wrong. Simon was not on his bed, nor was he sobbing. He was unconscious on the floor, blood freely flowing from both his mouth and his nose. He was naked, his torn school uniform scattered on the floor. There was blood on the walls and even some splatters on the ceiling. Needless to say the carpet was covered in droplets of the stuff. All in all, it was a beating far more severe than any she had received. She was delighted. She turned and walked from his room, going down stairs to see if her father was alright. Don had gone to the pub. Claire knew that he would not be back till just before midnight. It would be the moment that she would execute the final part of her plan, She had seen the way Don had been looking at her of late. She was a good looking girl, developing nicely, and she was pretty sure that her father was not having any luck in that department. She would sleep naked that night, and she was certain that by the morning, she would have Don Mason eating out of the palm of her hand. As for Simon, well, who cares? Peter Davis was surprised and just a little disappointed not to see Simon walking to school the following morning. He was fairly sure that he had allayed the boy's fears about any repetition of the previous day's beatings from the other boys. He looked around and finally noticed Simon's sister, chatting away to her friends. He decided to go and ask her if Simon was alright. The look of distain she gave Peter rather took him by surprise. "No, Simon is fine, he just didn't feel like coming in today, he got beaten up yesterday for being queer. Why? Are you one of his faggot friends or did you want to hit him too?" Peter had never really liked Claire, even though they had had little to do with each other. This exchange between them only went to reinforce his view that she was a hard, feelingless girl. He muttered something about being neither violent nor homosexual, and left her to carry on chatting to her giggling friends. He could not help but hear that they were now discussing whether he was gay or not. He really couldn't give a damn. What he did care about was one of life's curious anomalies. One that he and his parents enjoyed, or suffered, he was not always sure which. The moment he decided to investigate Simons well being, he felt a warm glow, when he decided to keep his nose to himself and keep his own council, he instinctively worried about Simon again. It was unshakable, It was a rare feeling for him but he knew that his parents had also had such feelings in the past though they had never said much about them to him. He thought of the pictures on the mantle piece at home. Not of the one of him but of the two pictures, one of Derek and one of Andrew. He didn't know why these two pictures sprang to his mind at that point, but as he thought that maybe he should keep an eye on Simon, he had the warm glow again, and the image of the three boys, Simon, Derek and Andrew, went straight to his mind again. He felt spooked. It was a sore and stiff Simon who crawled out from under his bed. He looked at his watch. It was nearly midday. He remembered managing to crawl under the bed last night, very frightened and very hurt. His father had never even smacked him before let alone punched him. He didn't understand whatever it was that had caused the reaction yesterday evening. He sat on his bed wondering what was going on. As the minutes passed, he recollected the things that his dad was saying while hitting him. Things like "No son of mine is going to be a sodding queer" and "you sort yourself out boy, straighten out or get out". He looked around his bedroom, the television was smashed and his computer lay on the floor in pieces. Everything in the room was either smashed or covered in blood, some were both. As the events of the previous evening unwrapped themselves to him, he realized that he was naked. He remembered his father ripping his clothes off him. He looked about and saw the remains of some of his school uniform in tatters on the floor. He went to the wardrobe to get dressed. It was empty. So was the chest of drawers that had previously held the rest of his clothes. As he looked around his room he could see now that apart from some of the furniture, everything he had owned had been smashed. He looked out of his bedroom window, there was a fire burning in the middle of the lawn, he could just about see that it was his clothes that were burning. He could make out the collars from his shirts and some of his underwear. He was about to run downstairs when for the first time he saw the notice pinned to the bedroom door. He had to read it several times before the true meaning of it sank in. "You came into my life naked and with nothing. You will leave it the same way. You will be wise to be gone before I come back from work or you will get a repeat of last night. You are no longer a son of mine." Tears welled up in his eyes as he read the note yet again. He went out into the garden and tried to salvage some clothing from the fire, there was none to be saved, all the clothes had been torn to shreds before the fire was even lit. He went to Claire's room. He selected some of her clothes and put them on. It would be alright, He had always had his father's permission to take anything of Claire's he needed. He was certain that his father would have calmed down by the time he returned so, after cleaning himself up as much as he could, he put on the clothes he had borrowed. Simon decided to stay in his bedroom and wait for his father there. No point in doing anything else. After a short while he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. When Claire came home she went upstairs to see how Simon had coped. He would be awake now and her gloating would be that much more satisfying. She knew nothing of either the note or the bonfire of Simon's clothes, She opened the door. Simon woke immediately and sat on the edge of his bed. As Claire stood in the open door, she could not see the note on the back of it. She smiled as her eyes fell on his battered and bruised face. He tried to smile back but it hurt too much. He started to cry instead. That was when Claire saw that the boy was missing a tooth. The fact that his nose was broken was obvious to anybody to see. It was amazing but just for a moment Claire had felt some sympathy for Simon. Then she saw that he was wearing her clothes. He had just helped himself, yet again. The sympathy vanished like a summer dew. It was replaced with a wry smile. She said nothing but quietly closed the door, leaving the boy to sob in pain, alone again. It was when Don arrived home again that Simon held his first doubt as to the advisability of staying in the house. Don had walked in the front door to find Claire waiting there for him. He kissed her, then again with more passion than he had ever shown her in the past. Last night in bed was a night Don would never forget. Clair's plan had worked perfectly. When the embrace was broken, Claire smiled at Don and pointed her eyes to Simon's room. As cold as ice Don went to the bedroom door and looked at the mark left where he had removed the plaque that said "Simon's room". He went in. Simon stood by his bed. Don looked him up and down. He saw that Simon was wearing Claire's jeans. There was a butterfly embroidered on the hip of them, the pullover was pale yellow and had a similar design on it. Down stairs Claire heard the first dull thud as Simons father set about the boy again. Five minutes later Don walked into the sitting room and handed Claire her clothes back. She took them and the wry smile returned to her face. She took her fathers hand and led him to what had just become `their' bedroom. Naked, bruised and bloody, yet only a wall between them, once again the unconscious form of an eleven year old boy lay still. It was the last day of term and still Peter had not seen Simon. He was trying not to be too alarmed, thinking that by the start of the next term, the taunts and bullying would be over. The kids would have other things on their minds. As he sat at his desk, knowing that there would be little work done today, his mind once again wandered over the thoughts of Simon. Why had that kid got under his skin like this, it wasn't right, he was just a kid who Peter had rescued from a beating, yet somehow and for some reason Peter was feeling very ill at ease. Something was wrong, it had to be. At the morning break Peter went off in search of Claire, he would ask her. She was easily found. This time she was alone, no friends to show off in front of. She looked uneasy as she saw Peter walking towards her. "Hello Claire, Still no sign of Simon then. Is he frightened of getting another beating?" Claire had slightly misunderstood what Peter had meant and thinking he was talking about the thrashings Simon was getting at home she asked bluntly, "How do you know about those?" "Oh come off it Claire, I was the one that pulled him out of it, I know you knew that. Why can't you just answer a civil question with a civil answer?" "Oh that, yeah ok sorry, well if you must know, he has been kept off school by dad. He will be back next term. Now isn't there anybody else's business you can stick your nose in? I am waiting for someone interesting to come along." The rebuke meant little to Peter, he didn't give it a second thought. No, his thoughts were on the other things that Claire had said. He worried. There was definitely something wrong. There was a puzzle that would not clear itself in Peters mind. It was something she had said but he couldn't pull it to mind. He went over and over what the girl had said. He even wrote it down. `How do you know about that?' `Oh sorry, he is being kept off school by dad' `He will be back next term' Peter read the notes he made over and over. He studied them all day. Eventually he went home to start his summer break. When he got home his dad, Arthur, was there working on a new book he was writing. Sat in the corner was the man he now referred to as Uncle Keith. Keith Hobbes was a psychiatrist and now valued old friend of the family. Peter pretty much owed his life to Uncle Keith, and he realised that he would be the very best person to chat to about his worries. Keith sat quietly as Peter unloaded all his worries to him, When Peter had finished it was obvious that there was not that much that had been said. All summed up it amounted to ... Peter saves boy from playground attack and boy stays away from school for last few days. Boy's sister says he is ok just frightened. "So Peter, what is the basis of your concern? From what you have told me it's a clear cut case. Nothing to worry about." "Well there is something else but I think it may be silly" "Okay Peter tell me what the other thing is and I will tell you if its silly. Often it's the `Silly little things' that solve the puzzle" "No its not a case of `those silly things' its just one, its just `That silly little...OH SHIT that's it, She didn't say `how did you know about that?' she said `How did you know about those?' He has been beaten up more than once." "Well now you've sorted that out, does it solve your riddle for you" "No .. well yes ... no it starts a new one. I pulled the kid from a fight. He was getting beaten up. I took him home, right to the door. That was the first beating he had been given, he said it was the first fight he had ever had. He has not been to school since but his sister said "those" so where is he getting the other beatings?" "Hmmm. Good point. See, it was not such a silly thing after all was it?" Keith sat back to let Peter think about how the situation now stood. All this time Arthur had been typing away at his keyboard. He thought back to the day he heard that his first son, Andrew, had rescued a boy from a beating. He had been so proud of his son that day. Even the extent of the tragedies to follow could not take away the pride he had felt. Now Peter was showing himself to be a boy of similar standing. Once again he was proud. Proud and happy. Peter looked at the floor, then at Keith. Then he walked over to the mantle piece and looked at the photographs of Derek and Andrew. "That was not the silly thing. Something odd is happening as well. Sometimes I think that this is none of my business, Claire as good as told me so too. Every time I think like that I think of the kid and start to worry. I cant explain it. Then when I think `Its no good I have to find out if he is OK', I get this kind of warm feeling. Its like almost a voice saying `Well that's better, you do that' only I cant hear it, I just feel warm and comfortable. Oh and twice now I have thought of these photographs. Two photographs, one of a boy I hardly knew and the other of one I never even met." He turned and looked at Keith. The psychiatrist was unmoved by this, but interested. Peter looked at Arthur. Arthur was staring at him, having turned ashen grey in the face. It was Arthur who finally asked, "Tell me again how you felt Peter, tell me again in full detail. Don't leave anything out. No I have a better idea. I will tell you how you felt. The harder you tried to forget about the problem, the more nasty the things were that you were worrying about. The more you tried to abandon the cause, the more important the cause seemed to you. When you finally decided to follow it up and help this boy, you felt as if the whole world was applauding you. You felt so good about yourself that you knew you had made the right choice. That's how I think you felt. Am I right?" "Yes that's it and it's exactly how I feel now, Is it the same as when you read Uncle Keith's letter?" By this time `Uncle Keith' was paying full attention. The story about Arthur reading the letter from Keith when Keith was in Greythorne Prison was a part of family legend. Whilst the scientific side of Keith kept saying that bench tests would have to be made to test this out, the human side of the man could not help but believe that there was the intervention of two dead souls. As soon as he had accepted this, he felt oddly warm inside. He looked at the other two. "Okay, Hold it folks. Time to take stock, and I will try not to sound too cynical about nice warm feelings. We shall, for the time being, take such feelings as both real and very important. "First we have a lad who we suspect has been beaten about on more than one occasion. Second. The boy has not been seen since just after the first beatings. And lastly, the boy's sister says that the boy is okay. Do we have anything else?" Arthur spoke, "Yes you have sort of missed the most important detail, but it's the one we can't really quantify. It's the `feeling'. Keith, you know what Alice and I believe about this `feeling'. We maintain that it is the spirits of both Andrew and Derek guiding us to help a child. The last time we had it was when we had your letter written from prison. We gave you a home and as a direct result there are two boys alive today, who would otherwise, most certainly, have been dead. "Its one of those saved boys who is now getting the `feeling'. I cannot bring myself to think that the `feeling' would be sent to us, were it not a matter of vital importance. It is therefore my belief that this child Simon is in great danger, mortal danger in fact. "Now we can sit here and do nothing until we read in the papers about the death of this boy or we can act. I know which of those it has to be. In fact the question now is not `If we act', but `What do we do?' Well what do you suggest?" Both men looked at Peter, The relief that he felt now that he had some support was so great he had slumped into a chair and was crying uncontrollably. Keith went to comfort him as Arthur went to the telephone and as he watched his wife, Alice, walk up the garden path, he started dialling a phone number. Anton Schreider was the headmaster of the school that both Peter and Simon went to. Although some years had now passed since the death of Arthur's son Andrew, there was a weight of guilt Anton still seemed to carry. He was also aware how close two other boys had come to meeting their ends, owing to the despicable behaviour of one of his teachers, a matter that added to the load he carried on his shoulders. There was nothing that he would not do to assist Arthur Davis in any way he could manage. It had been a fairly quick phone call that Anton had received, quick but very clear. He looked at the teaching schedule that had been for the last three days and called all the teachers who had been teaching Claire Mason. They were instructed to meet at Arthur Davis's house within the next half an hour. They were further told that it was a matter of considerable urgency. Putting the name Arthur Davis and the word Urgent in the same sentence had the desired effect and within twenty minutes there was a gathering of teachers in Arthur's house. It had only just given him time to explain the situation to Alice before the first ones arrived. She was a little sceptical until Arthur told her that Peter had felt warm the moment he had decided to investigate. That clinched it. The difficulty was going to be getting information from the teachers. They would certainly not swallow any tale about ghostly intervention. No, that part would have to be left out. That was a pity, because it was the only real lead they had. There was something else they had realised. With no evidence to support any claim, but still being certain that Simon was in very real danger, time was not going to be on their side. Time was not on the side of a small boy who was lying on his bedroom floor slowly regaining consciousness. He had not eaten now for just over twenty four hours. Although hunger was not the thing to the front of his mind, it wasn't helping. His entire body was covered in bruises and his mouth was full of dried blood. He crept out of his bedroom to the top of the stairs. He could hear the television on in the lounge. He gently crept towards his father's room. He knew that there would be some money there. He would have to take that and run for his life. He was in no doubt now that his father was not concerned about him, and would beat him again if caught in the house. He wanted to make no noise at all as he opened his father's bedroom door. He was successful. He had made no noise whatsoever, had he done so he would not have been greeted with the site before him. Quietly he closed the door again. His father and his sister were far too busy with each other to have heard him. He returned to his room. He was naked and had no access to any clothing. He was beaten black and blue and he was hungry. He went down stairs and looked in the refrigerator. He took some cheese and a two pint plastic carton of milk. There was some bread on the side so he took that too. He found some other bits and pieces and took his stash up to his room. Just before he went back upstairs, he opened the back door, leaving it swinging slightly in the breeze He needed to find somewhere else to hide. He had one of the best ideas of his life, one that probably saved his life too. He went onto the landing and gently climbed onto the banister. From there he was able to reach the loft hatch. As much as it hurt his injuries, he managed to climb up into the loft. Once there he closed the hatch and put a bar across it. Even if his father guessed where he was, the man would not be able to reach him. He turned the light on and looked about. In addition to the normal boxes and things he found in the loft, he also saw the cold water tank, he knew that this was going to be a life saver. He didn't want to wander about in case he was heard. This hiding place, whilst defendable, was much better if it was left as a secret. The roof space had been partially floored and there were some large pieces of foam stored up there. That sorted out his sleeping arrangements. There was another facility he found up there. His father had put up a new light on the landing replacing a rather old ugly strip light. There were still some holes in the ceiling where the old light had been. He found them and discovered that those holes and one or two others afforded him some spy holes. He would be able to see when it was safe for him to come down. He found also a gap in the eves that enabled him to see the front path out of the house, he would be able to tell when his father left for work. He was just starting to wonder if he was being over cautious, after all, this was his father he was hiding from, when he heard his fathers raised voice. "SHIT ! The little bastard has been in here while we were doing it" "How do you know?" "Look, there's his blood on the door handle and some more, here, inside. Oh yes, he saw us alright, Where is the little shit now? I'll have his guts for this, spying on us." Claire went down stairs while Don checked out Simon's bedroom. "He's not up here, any sign down there ducky?" "Yes, he has been in the kitchen. He has nicked a load of stuff from the fridge. Looks like he's done a runner though." Don went down stairs and into the kitchen. He looked around. "Yeah he's had it away alright, done a runner. Good riddance fucking queer" Although Don was saying these things he was starting to realize that his one and only son was gone, possibly for ever. Clair was reading his thoughts like a book. "I will have a son for you, it will be your son from your daughter, It is bound to take after you" "That's not really legal love, we can't do that." "Yes we can. I will go on the make with a couple of boys at school, they're not too bad. I will make them wear protection but when I take it off them after, I will clip the end. They will see their stuff drip out of it. That will have them worried. Every time you want it I will do that first. When I fall pregnant, we will say its one of the boys. We may even make some cash out of it as well" "My god, you're nothing like your mother are you. You're a scheming little bitch at heart aren't you" Don cuddled his daughter to him. However wrong it was, it was the only way he was going to have a son now. He would give her anything she wanted, all she had to do was bare him a son, and it wasn't to be some screaming queen like the one his wife had given him. Claire thought about all she had achieved. She held the number one slot in his heart. The good times were for her now. The runt had run off but he would be back, and when he was, she would get him back into the house but it would be under her terms. He could do the cooking, housework and stuff. She would sit back and relax, no problem about her having a baby, that wasn't going to happen, she would stay on the pill for as long as it took. Don couldn't say anything and certainly couldn't hit her, she was his daughter and underage. She would tell the police that she was his property and he would be in jail so fast his feet wouldn't touch the ground. She would only need to threaten that once and the job would be completed. Now wasn't the time to do that though. At the moment Claire was getting everything she wanted without playing nasty. That could be held in reserve, held for when it was needed. Up in the roof space, Simon had learned to cry quietly. His chest hurt, he had some broken ribs. His mouth was sore, a third tooth had come out and his broken nose hurt like hell. He managed to eat a little bread and cheese. He lay on the foam and had his first nights sleep as an orphan. He soon found that orphans cried then selves to sleep a lot. The meeting of teachers in the Davis's household had brought some interesting things to light. The combination of skills there being both teachers and the psychiatrist there, was formidable. The main reason for the Davis's suspicions, the `feeling' was covered by their saying that they had been given reason to believe that something was wrong, but were honour bound to keep the source anonymous. Various facts were coming to light. Well, more suspicions than facts but they all sort of slotted into place. First. It was true that as far as anyone knew, the fight outside the school was the first incident of violence anybody knew of Simon being involved with. Second. Normally the girls would chat about who they fancied and what they would do. That always stopped for a while after a girl had had sex the first time. Claire had stopped that sort of chat on the last day of term. Third. Claire had never shown any sibling feelings to Simon, and apparently did not like her father much either. That changed on the last day of term as well. Her feelings towards Simon seemed the same but she was less vindictive when she spoke of her father. All this was rather at odds with what else was already known of the family. When Mr Mason attended the school open nights, a time when the teachers and parents go together and discussed the children's progress, he did so with a difficult attitude to cope with. If the boy had done reasonably well at something, he was, in his fathers eyes, a genius, far ahead of the others in his class. If he had done less well, the teacher of that subject was a moron and should be sacked. When his daughters class was being discussed, Mr Mason would wander off and go to the pub. He had no interest whatsoever. He even said to one of the teachers that it didn't really matter how the girl did, a woman's place was in the home. Keith started to make notes of the main points and as the last of the teachers left, he paraphrased them. "So what have we got, There is a young boy who was loved by his father, no, more than just loved, worshiped by his father. However, now he has been outed as gay. Its probable that this has turned the father away from him. The father will be the most likely source of any beatings. We know that the father has up to now been fiercely proud of his son, and any revelation of homosexuality would be a catastrophic let down to a person like that. Lastly, we know that the father has a reputation for extreme violence. I don't think we need look for anybody else, its almost being advertised to us." "Oh my god, not again. That's why we are getting such a strong message from the 'feeling'. It's the Andrew and Derek scenario all over again, except that instead of the two concerned being friends, they are father and son. Like you say, its going to be Simon's father giving the beatings now." "Yes but there is more to this, we have to be careful not to rush in with half a story, there are more questions to be answered first. The one that plays on my mind is that we can deduce that there have been two beatings, one at school and one at home. That's all we can say. We can assume that the one at home was severe, brutal enough to keep the boy at home for a few days, perhaps to let a black eye calm down or similar. We have no evidence that the situation is any worse than that, apart that is, from this `feeling' Peter was becoming more and more frustrated with the way the conversation was going round and round. It seemed to him that whenever they were getting anywhere, one or other of the men would start to say things like "We mustn't rush in" or "Well we mustn't do anything hasty". It was driving him crazy. "Tomorrow I will go to round to his house and ask him if he wants to come out with us. If he is there and ok, he can come round here and we can think of something we can do. If he is not there, I will try to find out where he is. Both the men and Alice could sense the frustration Peter was feeling and thought it best if he were allowed to make this preliminary enquiry, warning him however not to seem pushy. It was with that thought playing on his mind that Peter went to bed. He did not sleep well, tossing and turning, thinking out and role playing through various conversations he might have with either Mr Mason or his daughter. Down stairs the conversation had taken a slightly different direction. Alice was concerned. "What did you make of the change in attitude that the teachers all agreed that Claire Mason has gone through? It seems odd to me" They all agreed that it was strange but when Keith suggested that an incestual relationship might have developed, the other two looked at him aghast. "No surely not, it can't be. Why would a man who seemingly totally discounts his daughter suddenly start a relationship with her? And why would she go along with it?" "Well, its not as surprising as you may think. Now there is a void in the man's life, it will need to be filled quickly. If the daughter is as callous as we have been lead to believe, she would want to be the one to fill it. There would be little or no use letting somebody else fill it and to let the boy back in as the number one would be unthinkable in her eyes. Don't forget, she was the one who told the world about the boy being homosexual. She will be the one to benefit the most. The more I think about it, the more likely it seems to me. We had better not forget to tell Peter tomorrow that the girl will be every bit as hostile to him as the father would be." The following morning they didn't forget to tell Peter of this new possibility, and his description of Claire's attitude towards him fitted the suspected scenario perfectly. As Peter walked towards the Mason's house, he started to reason with himself that should there be a `father daughter' incestuous relationship in that household, this would be quite helpful. If Don Mason meant to inflict harm on young Simon, Prison would not be the easiest place to do it from. Don was never the most pleasant of people to have to talk to and when he opened the front door and saw the sixteen year old standing there, he was perhaps more abrupt than his normal obnoxious self. His greeting of "What the hell do you want" was like water off a ducks back to Peter. "I wondered if Simon was in. I have his assignments for the summer holidays at home and I was asked to go over them with him." "Hmmm ain't you the teachers pet then. Well he's not in. He went out yesterday afternoon and he's not back yet. I don't expect him back too soon either." The door shut in Peter's face while he was saying thank you and good bye. As he walked down the garden path, something small hit him on his back. It was a piece of bread. He looked at the house but the door and all the windows were shut. Another piece fell at his feet. He still could not make out where they were coming from but at that moment he saw Mr Mason looking out of a downstairs window. Peter half heartedly waved to him, turned and left. This account was related to Arthur, Alice and Keith, leaving out nothing and mentioning the bread incident in great detail. Peter was certain that it was important. He was sure that the bread was being thrown at him by someone who wanted his attention but for some reason could not shout for him. It had to be Simon, but where had he been hiding, there was no sign of him. Peter had seen the tree house but it was too far away, the bread had to have been thrown from somewhere much nearer. Arthur agreed with Peter, the bread was thrown to attract his attention, and it would have to have been Simon throwing it. There were two possibilities with this, either Don had lied about Simon having gone out and that the lad was being held by force, or Simon was in hiding but had stayed close to the house for reasons best known to himself. The problem was finding out which, as one situation would have to be handled very differently from the other. Keith made the suggestion that they could keep an eye on the house from the back of his old van. It was Peter who saw the obvious, It had to be him on the `stake-out' Simon knew Peter and would recognise him again. The two adults were of no use in that area, a point they reluctantly conceded. They would however be needed if some diversionary tactic was required. Claire was going to be the problem. Getting her out of the house would be tricky. Don was easy, he went to the pub most nights so offered no difficulty. That one was solved by Alice. Terry was the answer to that. Find out what night Claire baby sat for Terry. It would be certain that Don would go to the pub that night for sure. That would have them both out. Seven o'clock that evening saw an old van parked up just along the road from the Mason's house. It had been there twenty minutes when Claire left their house and walked to the Newley's house. It was pure luck that the first night of the stake-out was the best one to be had. It was the night that Terry's parents went to their bridge club. At seven thirty Terry's parents, Mr and Mrs Newley got in their car and waited. Don Mason came out to the car and got in. They always gave him a lift to the pub on bridge nights. At seven thirty five Peter was in the Masons driveway standing about where he had been when the first piece of bread had hit him. There was a high hedge between the two properties so he could not be seen by Claire from the Newley's house. He called Simons name as loud as he dared, he called it again. The front door opened. Peter's martial arts training had shown him what a beaten body looked like. He had seen many pictures of people who had fallen victim of a karate expert who had lost his or her temper. They were mild compared with the site that befell his eyes. Simon, holding just a towel to maintain his dignity, was a total mess. Peter could not believe what he was looking at. He walked to the door and so very gently he picked the whimpering child up and carried him in his arms to the van. As he approached it, the back doors opened and Arthur took the boy into his own arms, placing him on the bench seat and with Peter closing the doors Keith drove off to Arthur's house. "We have to inform the police and inform them now. Mason could do us for child abduction for a start." Alice, whilst delighted at the success of the venture, was not unreasonably spelling out the problems they now faced. Keith agreed with her. He had given the lad a quick medical check over and had diagnosed various injuries. "He needs medical attention too, as quickly as reasonably possible but first off, the police have to be involved. We are already skating on thin ice here. Lets not go too far down the wrong road." They looked at Simon. He was lying on the sofa, his head in Peters lap. Peter was gently stroking the child's forehead. He was asleep, the first deep sleep in seventy two hours that had not been brought about by violence. Even through the bruises and swellings there was the faintest trace of a smile. Peter looked at the three adults looking down on him. "Can't the police come tomorrow? He is so fast asleep and it would be a pity to wake him for more horrid things to happen. They will take him to hospital and he won't know anyone there. Can't that all be done tomorrow?" Reluctantly Arthur agreed. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Keith also conceded, another twelve hours would make little or no difference. Peter insisted that he carried Simon to his room, Simon could have the bed and Peter would use a folding bed. As Peter carried on stroking Simons blood matted hair he looked at Alice "Why do angels bruise so easily?" Three choked grownups followed Peter with his broken child upstairs to bed. Two of them were feeling very proud of the way their adopted son had behaved throughout all this, the third was feeling very pensive about the future. Claire Mason was feeling pensive too. The Newley's had returned home from their bridge evening and Clair had come back to the house. Don would not be back for another hour, yet here was the front door swinging open on the breeze. "So the little runt has returned has he" She snarled to herself. Her investigation showed that he was not in the house, she looked upstairs in the boy's bedroom. Nothing. Then she saw the Attic hatchway was down. She climbed up the way she always had, standing on the banister rail then swinging up. She saw the makeshift bed, the remains of the bread and cheese and that the lid of the cold water tank was removed. She saw a plastic bucket and both saw and smelled what that had been used for. Then she saw the thing that really worried her. One of the holes that Simon had used for seeing who was where looked straight down on the double bed in her fathers room. Simon had seen the two of them at it in detail. That could change things. He was now in a position to blackmail them. The question now was, had he run off or would he be back. As she was thinking all this she had lowered herself back to the floor. She heard the frond door open and close. She went downstairs and by the time she reached her father she had decided to say nothing for the moment about her discovery. He took her into his arms and planted a beer flavoured kiss on her mouth. Taking her hand they went to their bedroom. Peter half woke up feeling breath on his face. He froze without opening his eyes. He wondered if Don Mason had somehow managed to enter his bedroom. A few moments later as he became more conscious, he heard a quiet whimper. He opened his eyes and looked straight into the beaten face of Simon who was on his knees looking at him. "Can I get into bed with you sir? I'm frightened." "No Simon, I will get into bed with you, there's more room, and it's Peter, not `Sir'. You don't need to be frightened here. There is no one here to hurt you and your dad doesn't know where you are." Peter climbed into the double bed and cuddled the child to him, the smell of blood was still strong, also the boy had not really been able to clean himself very thoroughly. Some may have said the smell was slightly sexy, quite erotic. Others would just have said that the lad needed a bath and needed it as soon as possible. Peter came under that second group of people and there was little pleasure in it for him as he gently hugged the frightened boy to him and `spooned' up to him. That was the way they were when Arthur walked into the room with two cups of tea the following morning. They were both sound asleep, Peter because he always slept like a log and Simon because it was the first real sleep he had enjoyed since the beginning of this nightmare. Arthur could not bring himself to wake the two, but did tell Alice to go and have a look. She did and took her digital camera in with her. The sight was so sweet. It would have been ten o'clock when Peter came down stairs to start the day. Arthur and Keith were discussing how to go about telling the proper authorities what the situation was. It was a delicate smatter and would have to be dealt with carefully. Peter wanted to be involved as much as possible, showing his maturity to his parents and Keith. He suggested that they should have a long talk with Simon first. They would be better able to assess the best actions to take only if they had detailed information about what had been going on in the Mason's household. Arthur looked up as Simon chose that moment to come into the sitting room wrapped in just the blood soaked towel he had been rescued in. "We had better find some way to get your clothes young man." "I don't have any sir. Dad tore them all up and burned them. I don't have anything. He broke everything of mine he could find. I got nothing left" Peter held the sobbing boy to him. It was going to be a painful business getting all the details out of the lad, but it had to be done. Peter took a novel approach to the problem. What ever the boy said, Peter would think of a positive side to it and get the boy to think of it differently. It was worth a try. "Well if your dad has burned all your clothes we don't need to go and ask him for them. That means he still won't know where you're hiding. This is good. The same thing goes for all your other stuff too." "He gave anything else I had to my sister, Claire. Whatever she wanted of it. She gets everything now. Daddy hates me now. He told me never to call him daddy again. He told me to go away and never go back. He said if he sees me in the house again he will beat me up so bad I won't ever wake up again." "Well you are here now, and you can stay here for as long as you like. We do need to tell the police where you are, just in case things change. Will you tell us all about what happened, everything you can remember?" Little Simon started to tell them about his sister telling all the boys at the school that he was a `homely something' and how his dad had asked him about it. He explained as much a he could about the beatings and the notice pinned on the inside of his bedroom door disclaiming him as a son. It was when he started to talk about how his dad had started doing things with Claire that Keith started asking him questions. An hour later they knew all the facts. The physical abuse Simon had endured as well as the incestual relationship that had developed with Don and his daughter. He was able to give quite graphic descriptions of some of the things they had been doing together. The police were quite quick to arrive. Arthur had explained as much as he could over the phone, ensuring that they both knew and fully understood just how fragile the boy was. It had been a while since Keith had been having to sign on to the sexual offenders register, but all the local officers were aware of his history. They also knew that his main obsession with boys was to help them, not harm them, it was further known that his crime was that of voyeurism. He was not thought to be of any danger to anybody, far from it. It would never really be known how many lives he had saved but it was known to be at least two for certain. Two officers and a child psychologist had arrived as well as a doctor specialising in paediatrics. The doctor confirmed all Keith's diagnostics, agreeing also that hospital would not really be necessary. As a temporary measure Alice had fashioned a sheet into a form of toga causing Simon to move from the category `Cute' to `Delectable'. Even Peter had to admit to himself that the boy was attractive. When the police left it was early afternoon. They promised that within the hour there would be a warrant out for the arrest of Don Mason, and that a health visitor would come round with some clothes for Simon. Nobody had mentioned Claire. Most of those there were preoccupied with Simons problems, and Simon had been brought up not to worry about Claire, she was just a girl. However, it was Simon who first worried about his sister, even though it was obvious to him that all his current problems were as a direct result of her intervention in his life. The health visitor was still there when Simon asked, "What's going to happen to Claire? If the police put daddy in prison and I am here, what will happen to her?" "Now don't you worry your little head about anybody else except you. We need you to get back to being fit and strong for Mr and Mrs Davis don't we?" Arthur was amazed that after all that scheming little minx had done to this child, he still thought of her, he was about to say as much when Keith interposed. He had seen the train of thought Arthur was on and knew that the man was unaware of how this strange upbringing would affect both children. Keith took Arthur to one side. "You shouldn't blame Claire for all this you know. She is a product of more abuse than even Simon here is. Simon's abuse has been over three days or so, Claire's started the day she was born and increased tenfold the day Simon was born. It was mainly mental, but it was abuse none the less. "All her life she has been told that she is nothing. She didn't matter, she didn't count. For fourteen years she has craved love and recognition from her father. As she matured sexually, she recognised the only thing her father wanted from a female. It was the only thing she had to offer that he might want. He was a drunk as well so not always morally at his best." "How we are ever going to heal the deep mental scars that the girl will have is a mystery to me, if we ever do. I agree that Simon showing concern for her is surprising, and I might add a very optimistic sign, but lay no blame at the girls feet, it doesn't belong there." Arthur had already worked most of that out. He knew in his heart that Claire was probably a nice girl really, if you got to know her, if she let you get to know her. "Yes ok. I know that Don Mason is where the finger should point, you're right." "Is it?" "Is it what?" "Where the finger of blame should be pointing." "Well yes, of course it is. Anybody can see that. Can't they?...Errrm Isn't it?... I mean shouldn't it be? Dammit I hate it when you do this. I know what a situation is then you come along and tell me I'm all wrong. If it's not Don Mason's fault who's fault is it?" "You assume that someone has to be at fault. If Simon had been an only child he would almost certainly have had Don's attitudes. Would that have been Simon's fault? No it wouldn't. Where did Don get his attitudes from? Was he an only child? What was his father like? You can now see where I am coming from. If Simon shows any characteristics of his father, should we put him inside prison now and save all the trouble later on? "No the problem is far deeper than that. When you look at the laws that Don has broken they amount to `Unlawful wounding', `Wounding with intent to commit grievous bodily harm' Unlawful sex with a minor' and `Incest' They may just add `Indecent assault' as he stripped the boy. If he gets a good lawyer and puts a plea of `diminished responsibility' he could be out in 6 months, maybe even less. At the most he would get two years and be out in one." Arthur looked at Keith in total disbelief. It seemed abhorrent to him that after submitting a young child to the kind of violence that Simon had been victim of, a man would spend less than twenty years behind bars. But no. that was the bottom line. Somehow they needed to set up a protection plan to last Simon longer than the one the law would provide. Peter was also privy to this conversation and he was not happy with the situation either. There was a strange feeling that was absorbing Peter. He didn't understand it, he didn't even recognise that it was there, but it was. It was not from some spirit world. No it was nothing like that at all. Peter, Mr `straight boy' himself, was falling in love. Falling in love with a boy. Falling in love with a helpless boy who needed all the love he could find. Peter had fallen in love with Simon and was powerless to do anything about it. This was a strange kind of love unless one understood its subtleties. It had almost no sexual connotation to it. Was the love that a boy might show his brother? No it was more than that. Was it then perhaps the love that a man may have for his lover? Oh no, this was so much stronger than that. Well could you liken it to the love of a mother to her new born son? No but that is as close as you are likely to guess. This love was of the rarest kind. It was all consuming. It was more powerful than any other emotion known to man. The last time anyone in the Davis family had come anywhere close to such a love was when a young boy sacrificed his own life for another. The love Peter was developing for Simon was of the same intensity that Derek had held for Andrew. There was no greater. There was no stronger and most dangerously, there was no compromise. There was now nothing that Peter would not do to protect his Simon. Yes, you read that right, `HIS Simon'. It was six thirty five in the evening when the constable knocked on the door. Arthur opened it and invited the officer in. "I'm terribly sorry sir, but there have been some developments that we think you should be kept aware of. Owing to a delay in processing the requirements of Miss Claire Mason. Mr Donald Mason has been released on bail. He has the legal responsibility to look after her. He has also claimed the responsibility for the care of one Simon Charles Mason. The child protection group are yet to file their report so we have to take Simon with us and deliver him to his father. We are unable to do anything else. "Under normal circumstances this would have been sorted out before the boy was removed from the father in the first place but sadly, albeit with the best of intentions, you have given the father this loophole, his lawyer has identified it and the law is as the law is. We have to take the boy and return him to the father. I really am terribly sorry about this but if you resist I will have to arrest you." "But isn't Simon the only one who can testify against his father, about the attacks on him?" "Yes sir he is" "That means you are putting him in a position of extreme danger" "Yes sir we know that. The best we can do is to put a squad car outside the house. If we hear any sounds of a domestic disturbance, we can enter without a warrant. We will have a car there as long as is necessary" "That's nowhere near good enough, we all know what the score is. You will find a corpse in the morning with some story about suicide. Mason will get off the hook. You know that and I know that." The policeman shrugged his shoulders. He knew that Arthur was right. Mason had used the most effective tool against the police. The law! The police are bound to uphold the law even when it is obvious that in doing so they put those they want to protect in jeopardy. Police uphold the law, Justice is in the hands of the courts. Mason was going to make sure that whilst the law would be obeyed the matter would never go to court. Arthur turned to Peter to tell him to get Simon ready to go with the officer. Peter was not there. Simon was though. Simon had understood every word that had been said, not just by the policeman but by everybody, including when Peter whispered in his ear and left. It was to be an example of total faith when Simon kissed Arthur, Keith and Alice goodbye and left with the policeman. Not a tear in his eye, but a look of defiance. Keith had seen the whispered exchange, and had seen Peter slide out of the back door, onto his bicycle and slip away. He had seen that look of defiance in Simons eyes. What ever they had planned was not good. There would be trouble from this and Peter was going to need some moral support. One thing Keith knew. If you take an expert in the marshal arts and really piss him off, somebody would get seriously hurt. The first two had happened. The hurt was next. As soon as the police officer had left with a slightly tearful Simon, Keith grabbed the other two saying, "No time to lose, things are out of hand. Get in the van NOW. We need to get to Mason's house" There are times to argue and there are times not to. This was a time not to, and Arthur and Alice got in the van. Keith ignored the speed limits and in a short while they were parked just down the road from the Mason's house. No one else seemed to be there. Keith had expected to see Peter's bicycle there but no, there was no sign of it. He started to wonder if he had read the situation wrongly when a police squad car drove up. Two officers started to walk Simon down the path when the front door opened and Don walked out. H walked briskly down the path meeting the policemen not far from their car. "Thank you gentlemen, I will take the little shit from here" They looked at each other but had no option other than handing the boy over. Simon looked nervously about. He had not expected to be handed over so easily to his father. A firm grip on his shoulder stopped any idea of his running. Tears of resignation started to flow from his eyes. He knew the beating that was to follow. Almost as if it were of no more moment than handing back some piece of lost property, the two policemen turned and walked to the car, moments later driving it away. The first blow was as hard as it was predictable. It was a kick to the testicles and it had Simon reeling. He attempted to run to the tree house but his father was after him. Arthur and Keith could bear it no longer, they were out of the van shouting at Don to stop. Don did not stop but Arthur and Keith did. As Simon neared the tree that held the tree house, he fell. Don loomed towards him when suddenly, dropping from the tree above, came Peter. He landed on his feet not more that six feet in front of Don, and he was between Don and Simon. Even at the range they were Arthur and Keith could see nothing but anger and hatred in Peters eyes. They stared into Don's. The hatred was returned in full. "Fuck you kid, I'm going to enjoy this" Don pulled a knife. Peter's expression hardly changed at all, it merely went from anger to cold calculation. The first slash missed by some inches but Peter didn't move, He had judged it right and was sizing up his opponents skill. He crouched slightly as the second slash though much nearer missed again. Don attempted a stab but was sidestepped and with a slight grab to the wrist and a twist Don was sent toppling to the ground. Peter immediately saw his mistake as Dom smiled at him. Don was now sitting on the ground, knife in hand, right next to Simon, Dons Primary target. As Don looked at Simon he raised the knife. Peter screamed as he launched himself at the man. It was one blow. It was quick and executed with total accuracy. It was also fatal. Don was dying before his head hit the ground but it was not without its compensation. Peter had put himself between the knife and Simon. The last conscious sight that Don had was that of his knife sinking into Peters flesh. Don left this earth as a result of a single blow to his throat, It is doubtful that he went to the same place that his late wife Sharon had gone. Peter lay still, the knife sickeningly projecting from his ribs on his right hand side. Arthur and Keith ran to him and were on their knees next to him as his eyes opened. He tried to speak but the words dissolved into a contorted smile a he saw his Simon come and kneel with them. "My instructor always says I get that move wrong, I will listen to him next time" "Lie still son, help is on its way" "I know, the ambulance was called before I jumped the bastard" "What?" "Those two coppers, they knew I was going to have him, that's why they left, now its straight self defence, got the knife to prove it" It hurt him to talk but he felt he had to. It was as though if he stopped talking he would never talk again. Keith had in the meantime been looking at the wound and had seen that as nasty as it looked it was not actually life threatening. Now there was another on the scene. Claire had watched the whole drama unfold from her vantage point in Don's bedroom. One look at her father told her that he was dead. Simon was all she had left now, or was it that all he had was her? She wasn't sure. The ambulance arrived and took Peter to the hospital, Arthur accompanied him. Another one would come presently for Don, but he was in no rush. Claire took Simon and Keith indoors and sat them down. Force of habit caused her to make a pot of tea, and as if she was on `autopilot' the nice china was used and biscuits were laid out on a plate. As she re-entered the room Simon stood up for her and held the door. It was only a little gesture but she noticed it. Keith noticed it too. There were a lot of bridges to repair over a long time but it might, just might, be possible. The three of them indulged in small talk. Keith was fascinated in this display that the two were putting on, consciously or subconsciously, both refusing to take the lead. Eventually after about the third embarrassing silence, it was Simon who broached the obvious subject. "What is going to happen to us now?" "I don't know. What would you like to happen?" "I want to be looked after by Uncle Arthur but I don't think Claire would like that. I want to be with Claire too" Claire had to admit that she had not really got on with Peter, but if she was honest, she had not really got on with anybody else either. Even her relationship with Simon, her own brother was at best touch and go. Keith was still enthralled at the distance she was holding herself at. It was obvious that Simon needed his sister but what she had not yet realised was that she needed her brother more than ever. The knock at the door came as a relief to them all. It was Arthur with Alice. Alice sat down and, after announcing that Peter was in no danger and would be home very soon, she accepted a cup of tea. She looked at Claire. "Well, what's to be done now then? I have a suggestion to make, only it's a bit more than a suggestion. I have spoken to the social services woman. She was going to come round and gather you both up with your belongings and take you to the emergency accommodation they have for refugee children. I have talked her out of that and told her that you would both be staying with us for a week or two, just till we get this mess sorted out. Is that acceptable to you Claire? Claire had been a hard girl all her life, she had always had to be. She had never done a person a favour, and had never had favours done for her. Now she was at the mercy of someone who was trying to help her whilst asking nothing in return, She was as frightened as hell. Simon sensed this and sat next to her. This made things worse. Now the boy who, an hour ago she was wishing dead, was snuggling up to her. The cracks in her reserve started to show. Seconds later her face buried in Simons shoulder she was crying her heart out, begging him to forgive her. Keith moved Arthur and Alice away into the next room. "Those two have so much life to catch up with. I think a few minuets alone just now will make a good start to the healing process." "Will they ever be able to live with each other like a brother and sister should?" "I very much doubt it Alice, the damage is far too severe. I have been watching them and as much as it would be lovely to see them together, it can never really be. The best result will be for them to live near each other. Then they can see each other often but will be able to get away when they need to, and that will be often. If they live in the same house there would always be fights as to the pecking order. One has been brought up to be dominant whilst the other has the dominant nature. The girl having been subordinate all her life has just found out that this is not her natural role. To keep them together now would be hell on earth for both of them." As an uneasy silence fell over the room the answer to their problems knocked on the door. "Hello, Oh my word what a mess it all is, Sorry, may I introduce myself, My name is Liz. Liz Newley. I live next door. Oh hello Mrs Davis, You teach my son. Terry goes to your school. Liz Newley was a genuine sort of woman and one of the few people that Claire liked and respected. Her husband Dennis was from a similar mould. These were not exciting people but they were reliable. It did not take long before they had offered to look after Claire. It was perfect, near enough for the siblings to get together, yet far enough apart to enable them both to grow. Best of all, both children liked the idea. Peter was only held in hospital for a couple of days. The knife wound was only muscular it would heal reasonably quickly. Once home he set about sorting out the spare room for Simon. Alice and Arthur had gone into the town with Keith leaving the two boys on their own. Simons bruising was almost completely gone now and a dentist had affected a respectable repair to his mouth. He went about like a shadow to Peter, and to be honest it was starting to get Peter down. It wasn't that the kid was annoying, no not at all. It was that Peter was still getting feelings that were worrying to him. Worse still, Peter knew that Simon worshipped the ground he walked on. Simon had more than once told Peter that he owed him his life. Peter had taken to kissing Simon from time to time. Not mouth to mouth, but kissing him goodnight on his forehead for example. Peter was worried because it was something he was enjoying more and more each time. Just to get some peace and quiet he looked at Simon and said, "You are all hot and sweaty, why don't you have a shower and change into something cooler?" Simon was gone in a flash and Peter heard the shower going. He had just finished assembling a new wardrobe in the room that was to become Simons when the lad walked in. His idea of wearing something cooler was to put on the toga that had been made for him out of a sheet. This time the boy wearing it was not sporting two black eyes. His mouth was not disfigured with broken and missing teeth. The toga was indeed most appropriate as he stood there looking every inch the roman god. Peter walked over to him and held him close, then closer still. He ran his hands through the boys hair smelling the aroma of the shampoo so recently used. As he hugged Simon to him the creases of the garment moved slightly and rather gave away the secret that Simon was wearing nothing else at all. Peter took Simon down stairs and sitting on the couch, sat Simon on his lap. Still sniffing the boys hair and massaging his back the truth dawned on him. He knew he loved this little boy, in a way that had started the moment he had saved him from the bullies at school, but this love was not sexual. It was the love a father has for a son. Strangely it was a million miles away from the love Don Mason had thought he had for his boy. Simon could do anything and Peter would forgive him. Simon could be anything and Peter would support him. It was a love that Simon was to benefit from for many years, but there, at that moment, as he was cuddling Simon, he saw one of the last of the fading marks left by the boy's father, it reminded him of a question. Why do angels bruise so easily? **************************************************** That was `Angels bruise so easily' A short story by Angela Mynah angela_mynah@msn.com All comments welcome, even flamers. Its being ignored I can't stand. I love to receive e-mails (hint hint)