Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2003 16:47:23 -0400 From: Jeff Wilson Subject: W.A.R. Part 4, Chapter 8 Here's that long chapter people were asking for. Yes, the title is stolen from a Metallica song. W.A.R. Part Four - Rehabilitation Chapter Eight -- The Memory Remains by Jeff Wilson I awoke late Sunday night with the overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom. It was a close call. I hadn't pissed the bed in almost a year, despite what Dustin had said. But that was a close one. Luckily, I realized that I was dreaming that I was about to pee and was able to wake up just in time. After taking care of business, I slipped back into bed. Just as I was getting comfortable, I felt a hand slip into my shorts. "Well!" I said. "Shhh!" Brett quickly silenced me. Then his head disappeared under the covers. I lay on my back and watched Brett moving under the blankets until his head was positioned above my private. I felt my shorts being pulled down, and I lifted my butt up so he could pull them off. Then I felt warmth and wetness as his tongue licked my dick up one side and down the other. Then I felt him pull my dick into his mouth and start to suck on me. I felt his lips moving up and down on my very happy five and a half inches. His left hand softly caressed my belly while his right hand was doing things to my balls that made me want to moan with pleasure. I kept quiet though. I didn't want anything to end this moment. We had been through so much this week. It felt so good to feel him kissing my most private places. My pelvic muscles tightened and then released as I squirted. I closed my eyes and just felt myself empty into his mouth. After a minute or so, his face reappeared from under the covers. "How's that for holy and pure?" He said, laughing quietly. "Do you want me to return the favor?" I asked. "Nah, that's okay. I like sucking your thing. It's neat. We don't have to keep track of who sucked who. I just want to have fun. Goodnight, dude." "Dude?" I asked. Since when does he call me that? But he was already back to sleep. "Goodnight." I said, kissing him on the forehead. We left the house early the next morning. I was glad that Brett's mom didn't come in to wake us up, because I had never put my shorts back on. It felt kind of nice sleeping without anything on. I might try it more often. We headed back to Pittsburgh after breakfast. Brett was in a bad mood. He had wanted to stay at home instead of being dragged along to the hospital again. But his mom had told him that he had to come along. So he sat in the back seat with his arms crossed and didn't say very much for the whole trip. When he did talk, it was to argue with his mom. I tried to cheer him up, but he was determined to stay mad, so I quit trying. When we got to the hospital, my mom was waiting for us. She called my name and we ran to meet each other. I have to admit, I was really happy to see her. She hugged me tightly and then kissed me repeatedly. How embarrassing! I knew Brett would make fun of me later. That is, if Brett hadn't picked that moment to do something to really tick off his mom. I didn't even see what it was, but it was enough that Jen did something I hadn't seen in a long time, she yelled at him. "Will you quit acting like a selfish little brat?" She shouted angrily. "I wasn't!" He protested. "Just leave me alone!" "Paula, I'm sorry. We're going to have to take a little walk." Jen said sternly. "That's okay, Jen. We'll go to visit George after we're done with Billy. He's in room 818." Jen grabbed Brett by the arm above his elbow and forcefully walked down the street with him. Mom and I watched as she dragged Brett along, giving him an earful as she walked. "What did you do to them?" Mom whispered to me quietly. "Very funny. Brett's just being a jerk today." I whispered back. We walked into the hospital and took an elevator to the third floor. Mom took me to the nurse's station. They sent us to a room to wait. A nice nurse came in and asked me to take off my shirt. For some reason, I was a little embarrassed to take off my shirt with my mom in there. That was weird, because she'd seen me walk around the house in my underwear lots of times. But I took the shirt off and handed it to her. Then the nurse took my blood pressure and temperature. I asked mom why they were doing that, but she said it was normal procedure. It was nice to have a nurse for a mom sometimes. When the nurse left, mom and I talked about what we had done during the week. I told her about the fun I'd had with Brett. She told me about visiting dad everyday and staying with her friends in Monroeville. After waiting for about fifteen minutes, the doctor finally came into the room. I was surprised that it was the same doctor who had talked to me last week. He told me that he was going to cut off the cast, remove the stitches from my hand, x-ray my arm again, and then put a new cast on my arm. He picked up a tool from the table and turned it on. I was surprised that it was the saw that he was going to cut off my cast. I had pictured a chainsaw or something. The saw tickled as it sliced through the cast. When he finished, he pulled the cast apart and I was in for a surprise. My skin was pale beneath the cast, almost completely white. It smelled funky too. The doctor cleaned it up before he started on the stitches. My fingers were so stiff that I couldn't move them, not that I'd want to because it hurt when I tried. My pointer finger had a pink scar that reached from my first to second knuckle. There were three large scars crisscrossing the back of my hand. Apparently the top of the glass from the mirror came down on top of my hand, while the palm of my hand was protected. I could have sworn that I had blood inside my palm when I punched the mirror. I asked the doctor what had happened. "Your fingernails drove into your skin when you hit the wall. That's why you were bleeding." He said. "Don't try to turn your hand over. You severely sprained your wrist as well." "I didn't know that." I said. "It didn't matter, you couldn't move it anyway. It will heal by the time the cast comes off. Now we need to go to x-ray." He said. The doctor put my arm in a sling before we walked to the x-ray room. There were many different machines there. There were a few other people there with various broken bones to get x-rayed. I was in and out of there pretty quick. I had to put my arm in various positions for the doctor and while I was doing that, I started to get the feeling that I'd done it before. In fact, before we were done, I was able to put my arm into position before the doctor said to do it. "Very good. You were so drugged up the last time we did this, I didn't think you'd remember any of it." The doctor said as the machine did its work. "I didn't think I would either..." I said. The more I sat there, the more and more I was starting to remember. The rest of the time I spent in the x-ray room, and then back in the small room getting my new cast was a blur. I was in another place... ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ "I'm the asshole! I hate myself! You know that?! I fucking hate myself! I'm an asshole and I'm a jerk and I'm a fucking loser! Sometimes, when I look at myself in the mirror, I just want to fucking kill myself." Dustin looked terrified of me. "Don't say that." "I do! I just want to make it go away! That'd show them! It hurts too much to live knowing that I hurt everybody who gets close to me. Knowing what I did to you. To Brett. My dad. My mom. My grandma! Everybody I love gets hurt because of me! I just want to hurt myself!" I saw again my hand going through the mirror. But this time I knew that it didn't have anything to do with Dustin. Dustin was right all along. I did it to myself. I felt again the pain that I'd felt when my hand passed through the glass and hit the brick behind it. I felt what seemed like the brick giving way. But it wasn't the brick that was breaking, it was the bones in my hand. I stood there looking at my arm, but I couldn't feel the pain this time. I saw all of the bloody cuts again, and the look of pure horror on Dustin's face. Like he was looking at some kind of monster. "Billy... Why did you do that?" Then I heard something strange... laughter. My own laughter. I couldn't help it, I was laughing at my pain. I watched Dustin back away from me and start to open the door when Brett burst into the room. "Billy! Oh my god, are you okay?!?" He turned to Dustin with a look of pure hatred. "What did you do to him, you miserable little dick!?!" He grabbed Dustin by the shirt. "I didn't do anything!" Dustin cried. "We were talking and he flipped out and said he was going to hurt himself and punched the mirror!" "Will you get the fuck out of here for god's sake and go get a doctor or something! Do you want him to bleed to death!?!" Dustin ran out of the room and went down the hall. "It's okay Billy. Everything's going to be okay..." I heard Brett say from what seemed like thirty miles away. "HELP!!!" Brett yelled. "Somebody help us!!" He yelled again, starting to cry. "Billy, hang in there okay? Don't you pass out on me. Stay with me." Dustin came back in with a nurse, who yelled for more help. The nurse then pulled Brett off of me and started to work on my hand. Brett stood next to Dustin while another nurse came in to help out. "This is all your fault!" Brett yelled at Dustin. "I swear to god, Brett, I didn't do anything! Billy punched the mirror! See?" He pointed to the shattered mirror. Brett pushed Dustin angrily. "No he didn't! You lying piece of shit! Tell the truth! What the fuck did you do to him?!?!" The nurses told both boys to leave. Then I could remember my mom coming in and then everything got fuzzy again... ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ "Wake up Billy!" My mom said. She startled me out of my daydream. Just like that, it was gone again. But at least now I knew that Dustin was telling the truth. He hadn't done anything but try to talk me out of doing something crazy. It really was Brett who thought that it was Dustin's fault. Brett had walked in on us with my hand a bloody mess and jumped to conclusions. But now, I knew who was responsible for my hand being messed up... Me. The doctor gave me some instructions while I was looking at my new blue cast. It extended from my knuckles up to my elbow. I had to keep it in a sling while I was in the hospital, but I'd get rid of that as soon as I got back to the car. I thanked the doctor, pulled my shirt on, and then my mom and I walked back to the elevator. When the elevator arrived, my mom was about to press the button for the eighth floor, but then she stopped. "You do want to go see him, right?" She asked. "I guess so." I said. "Mom, you know why I didn't want to see him last time, right?" "I know. We all know. It was a scary time, Billy. It's alright to be scared sometimes." "I know. I've got to ask you something... It's been bothering me for a while now." "What is it, sweet heart?" "Why did Dustin tell the police that we'd been in an argument?" I asked. "Because it was the truth. Billy, when a boy ends up with a bloody hand in a busy hospital something's not right. Dustin was honest. We were all honest. Dustin was so worried about you. He was crying about what happened. He said that you said you were going to hurt yourself, and then you did. That's part of why Jen stayed with you all week. We wanted to make sure you were going to be safe." The elevator door opened and we stepped off. "But that still doesn't explain why he would tell the cops about the fight. What if they'd have made me go to a foster home or something?" I said. "Billy! You're fourteen years old! You should know better by now. The police don't come to arrest people for one slap. We all know that what happened to you was wrong. I was more angry about it than anybody. But we also know what's in your father's heart. We know that he was torn up inside because of it. It was a one time mistake." She said. As we walked down the brightly lit hallway, she warned me about dad. "Now... Your father may not be totally there today. His mind is good, but there are still times when he gets confused. He has moments where he thinks people are out to get him." "Okay." I said. We walked to the nurses station and they allowed us to go to see dad. Mom led me to the room. I stopped at the doorway. Dad was sitting in bed watching a western movie on television. His beard was gone. It was the first time I'd seen him clean shaven in years. He was hooked up to an IV and some monitors. "Well, are you going to hug me or stare at me?" He said, glancing away from his movie. I almost ran over to his side and he leaned up to hug me. I sniffled a little bit as I held on to him. "Hey. You're not going to bawl on me, are you, boy?" He said as he released his hold on me and leaned back down on the bed. "I missed you, dad." I said as I wiped my eyes. "You missed me? You missed me at Brad's house? Wow... I should have a stroke more often!" "GEORGE!!!" Mom scolded. But dad just laughed and told us to sit down. "So, what's with the cast? Punching mirrors because everybody you love gets hurt?" "How did you..." "Shhh!!" Dad quieted me quickly. "Billy, I'm only going to say this once, and you're going to listen to me. You are not responsible for me. I am not your responsibility. It's not your fault that your grandmother died, and it's not your fault that I had a stroke. But when you start hurting yourself because of all this stuff happening, you really start to scare people." "I'm sorry." I said. "If you ever do something that stupid again..." "George..." Mom said. Dad stopped and then smiled. "You see what that temper of yours can do now?" He said. "Yeah." I said. "Now, where's Brian?" He asked. I was confused. I thought he meant my cousin. "Brian? Why would he be here? He lives down in Fairmont." "No... You know... That boy you always play with. Brandon..." "You mean Brett?" I asked. "Yeah. Heh heh! I still get names mixed up. Where's he at?" "Here he is." Dr. Reilly said as they walked into the room. Brett looked like he hadn't had a good time with his mom. I got the feeling that he had been crying. He smiled weakly at my dad and me, then he sat down in a chair with his arms crossed and stayed that way. We all sat with dad and talked for about a half an hour. He seemed to be doing really well, except sometimes he'd forget names or he'd say the same thing over again. He told us that it was his right side that was affected by the stroke. He said that he couldn't feel his leg below his knee and his arm below his elbow. But that was good, because he hadn't felt them at all a few days ago. The rehab center would help him to regain his mobility and help him to walk again. He'd have to use a walker at first, and then a cane. When the nurse said that it was time to take dad for testing, we were all sad that it was time to leave. But before they took him, dad asked to see me privately. So everybody left us alone, and my dad asked me to lean close to him. "You really doing okay, boy?" "Yeah dad." I responded. "You know that I love you, even though what I did was..." "Dad, I know that what happened was a one time thing. We all do stupid things sometimes." "Just remember something... If the time comes that I should go, I want you to take that coin collection." "Dad! You're not going to die. You're getting better." "Billy! You take that coin collection, no matter what! That's yours. Everything inside that coin box is yours. You'll understand someday. But just remember to get that coin collection. Make sure you get the boxes and everything. Don't let your mom give it away or sell it for any reason. You understand me?" "Yes." I said. I wondered if this was one of those weird moments that he was having. Mom had said that he would sometimes think that everybody was out to get him. "Billy, do you know what happened to my parents?" "I know your mom died when you were little." I said. "She did. She died from cancer. I was four. When she died, it was just me and my dad. Your grandfather. He didn't take her death very well. He started drinking and then he started taking me out on projects with him. He only did it because he didn't know what else to do with me. But he didn't know that I was learning what to do by watching him. When I started to get better at the work than he was, he started to slap me around and said I was a show off. Then he started to find reasons at home to hit me and punch me. I put up with it until I was sixteen. Then I dropped out of school and started working on my own." "You dropped out of school?" I gasped. "Times were different then Billy. You could still be successful without graduating. Anyway, I started working on my own and making money, I met your mother and the rest is history. We didn't have you until we'd been married almost ten years. I never thought I was ready to have kids. I started that coin collection so that if anything ever happened to me or your mother then you'd have something to live on." "I'm going to live off of your coin collection?" "Billy, just trust me. Take that coin collection when I die. It's in my will. Don't let anybody talk you out of it." "But..." "Billy, just do it. Understand?" "Yeah." "Time to go Mr. Roberts." A nurse said as she walked into the room. I quietly walked out into the hallway. That was really weird. I guess mom was right about him telling secrets. The biggest secret was about how he had grown up. I always knew that my grandmother had died when he was really young. But I never realized that my grandfather had hit him and beat him up because he was smart. We said goodbye to my mom and started driving back home. None of us said much. Brett was still sulking in the back seat and Jen was concentrating on driving. I was lost in my own thoughts. I was trying to remember more about the last time I had gone to that hospital. I was also thinking about what dad had said. I never realized how tough it was for him when he was growing up. Losing his mom, finding out he had diabetes, his dad beating him up were all terrible things to deal with. No wonder I'd only seen my grandfather a few times before he died. No wonder dad never cried once during his funeral. I could see for the first time the boy that my dad had been. Alone, scared, angry, confused. A boy who had never really knew his mother and who hated his father. A boy who finally had enough and just quit school and moved out on his own. His life had been nothing like mine. The more I thought about it, the more I realized just who his life reminded me of... +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Well... That wraps up Chapter Eight. That was quite a peek into George's life. Also, it looks like Billy's ready to put his incident behind him and move on. Now, the next chapter should be fun. It's called "Brett's New Idea" and it's already done and just waiting for the right time to be released. I might just wait until next week sometime to release it. Maybe I'll release it sooner. I don't know yet. I know that it'll be interesting. It's Billy's last day at Brett's house. Do you have any comments on this chapter? I'd love to hear them! Tell me what you thought! vicioussquirrel@hotmail.com See you next time!