Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Inside Out ❯ Broken [Part 2] ( Chapter 13 )

Several months passed, and Elias fell into what he thought was a completely normal, completely comfortable schedule. He woke up with Sheek and Lucas in the mornings, had breakfast with them, and then watched them as they left for university. Sometimes Elias would spend an extra ten minutes or so on the balcony, staring out at the streets longingly. He would smile to himself as he realized that he was hoping Sheek's car would be coming round the corner and pulling back into the parking lot.

 

“I forgot something,” Sheek would grunt, and Lucas would roll his eyes in the doorway and offer Elias an endearing grin before they truly left for the day.

 

He would watch television or draw, listen to music. He had taken to Lucas's guitar, and they had spent many evenings together while Sheek was at work, going over chords and different sheet music that he could learn to play while they were gone.

 

It was a very relaxed atmosphere, and although the nightly phone calls to his mother were somewhat stressful, Elias found that he didn't even mind those either.

 

It was late January, and the snow had continued to fall. He didn't mind the cold, though, for when he was outside, he was always glad that he wasn't cooped up in the apartment by himself. Not that he was ungrateful for the time he got to spend alone, and without fear of well… anything.

 

His birthday was coming soon, and with his own birthday, that meant that Lucas's too.

At exactly six years apart, Lucas and Elias had both been born on the same date.

February 3rd. He would be fifteen, and his brother would be twenty-one. This worried him though, because that would mean that his brother was of legal age, and would be able to drink. Of course he still enjoyed the occasional beer here or there, but he had never actually seen his brother drunk.

 

And Elias wasn't sure if he wanted to.

 

But, he reasoned as he flopped down onto the couch, was that being selfish of him? His brother was old enough to take care of himself. He knew that Lucas was if not responsible, cautious to say the least, and he would be careful when drinking. He only hoped that if he had been drinking, he wouldn't be around to see it.

 

He didn't know how his brother would act, and frankly, he didn't care to find out either. The last thing he needed at this point and time was a resurfacing of how his brother had used to act. Even if it had been out of frustration or whatever other excuse he had convinced himself of, it had never been pleasant.

 

And it truly did seem that things were looking up for the both of them.

 

Until he got the phone call.

 

-

 

It had been later in the afternoon, perhaps around three or four when the phone had rang. Elias had been sitting on the living room floor, guitar in his lap and surrounded by sheet music. He had scrambled up to get the phone, and when he managed to pull the cordless from its cradle, he was met with a resounding sob that had his ear aching.

 

Holding the phone away from himself, he listened several moments to the panicked crying on the other end of the line, before pressing the phone tautly to his ear.

 

“Hello?”

“Elias! Elias call the police! He's gone crazy!”

 

A loud smash was heard before the woman he had come to recognize as his mother, screamed. And the line went dead.

 

Frantically, Elias looked about the room. What was that all about? Who had gone crazy?

 

Grabbing his jacket, the boy stumbled over the guitar before reaching the door. Yanking on his shoes, he slammed the door and ran down the hall to the elevator. After pressing the down button for several minutes and receiving no response, Elias yanked open the door to the stairwell and began descending them as fast as he was able.

 

Tripping several times, he somehow managed to get to the main floor without falling flat on his face. Clinging to the banister a moment, his face pale, he lurched forward and pushed himself out of the apartment building. A cold wind hit him in the face, and he immediately regretted not grabbing a heavier article of clothing.

 

Having no time to go back up and get another jacket, Elias cut a sharp corner and nearly running into a parked car in the gust parking lot, pushed himself from it and continued running down the nearly vacant space. As he made his way to the bus stop, he could already feel the numbness beginning in his fingers, and he clung to the pole as he caught his breath.

 

The chilling wind whipped at his frail body, and he shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. As the bus finally rolled up, he clambered on and prayed that he had some change in his pocket. He did. Dropping whatever he had inside the change box, he ran to the back of the bus and sat apprehensively by the door nearest the back exit.

 

The bus jerked into motion, and all he could do was wait and build up horrifying ideas of what could have happened to his mother, who she meant by `“he's” gone crazy!' and what, exactly, was going on.

 

When the bus finally came around into his neighborhood, he made quite the show of yanking on the chord so that the bus would stop. When it did, he pushed himself from the bus with such force that he fell to his knees on the sidewalk. People gave him curious looks as they boarded the bus themselves, and ignoring his stinging legs and cold hands, Elias got to his feet.

 

He ran the two blocks from the stop to his house, and when he got up to the sidewalk, he immediately recognized the familiar black Chevrolet Silverado his father drove. Nerves instantly on fire, he walked briskly up to the front door. As his hand fell onto the knob, he hesitated, when a loud slam inside of the house caused him to jump. Pulling the door open, he stepped inside. Nearly falling over his face because of the coat rack, which had been knocked over, he stumbled forward.

 

Cries were coming from the kitchen, and coughing, Elias made his way down the hall before making a sharp left. His mother lay on the floor in a pool of red liquid. The table had been turned over, the phone was off the hook and disconnected from the wall. Cupboard doors were flung open and dishes were strewn about the floor. Most broken, but some still intact.

 

His father was standing over her with his fist raised. He was about to bring it down, when Elias let out a shrill scream and launched himself forward. The weight of his body wasn't much, but considering that his father hadn't been expecting his tackle, it distracted him enough to send him off balance. He careened forward, and his mother rolled out of the way with a pained cry. Getting to her knees, the woman crawled across the kitchen floor and began fumbling with the chord on the phone.

 

-

 

He reeked of alcohol. Was he drunk? He must have been.

Several days stubble laced his large jaw, and spittle flew from the mans lips as he swore and cursed. Elias was thrown off of him easily enough, and he ignored the minor pain that flared in his palm as it was sliced open by a broken piece of china.

 

Scrambling to his feet, he deftly ducked under one of his father's fists before spinning around on his heel and making a beeline for the kitchen entryway. His mother had hooked up the phone, and was blubbering nonsense into it. Elias wondered if she had managed to call the police, and he screamed when fingers grazed the back of his jacket.

 

Shrugging out of it quicker then he thought possible, Elias heard the angry yell of his father as he threw the jacket aside and came stalking after him into the living room. Skirting round the coffee table, Elias spun around to face his father. He hadn't seen him in so long, and he had forgotten how big he was. He towered at least six feet three inches over him, possibly even more, and his large, broad shoulders blocked the entree way to the kitchen.

 

“You little shit,” he spat, wiping his mouth. “I was talking to your mother, why can't you mind your fucking business?”

 

“Stay away from her you asshole,” Elias seethed, flexing his fingers. Big talk for him, being the small runt that he was. He could feel the blood from his palm trickling down his fingertips, and chancing a glance downwards, he saw that there was a very small puddle of crimson liquid soaking into the carpet.

 

“I'm going to finish her off, and then you're next,” he boomed, pointing a large finger in his direction. “Stay put.”

 

He turned back on his own heel and stomped towards the kitchen. Panic rose in Elias's mind, and warning bells began to sound. Like hell I'm going to listen.

 

He didn't know if it was utter stupidity or anger that caused him to do what he did, but Elias let out a growl before he pitched forward. Jumping onto the coffee table, he ran its distance before flinging himself from the furniture. Latching his arms around the mans neck, he wrapped his legs around his waist and began to tighten his grip with his arms.

 

His father pivoted on the balls of his feet, and, letting out a choked snarl, rammed his back up against the nearest wall. The hallway mirror shattered behind Elias, and he nearly lost his grip from the pain that seized his spinal column. He knew for certain that his shirt had been ripped, and he winced as his father did it again.

 

He could still hear his mother wailing in the kitchen, and as his grip slackened on his father's neck, he felt another wave of pain consume him. His body hit the floor as he was shaken off, and with a small groan, he rolled onto his side to ease the pressure on his back. His father whirled around and a swift, painful kick to the gut caused bile to rise in the boys' throat. Curling into a ball, he shot a hateful look to the man towering over him.

 

There was no question about it; he was definitely intoxicated. He had never really been the abusive type of father, but if he had a few drinks in him, he'd push them around.

Of course, he'd stopped bullying Lucas about on his sixteenth birthday, which was the day that he had hit him back and called the police.

 

Yes, their family had a wonderful track record, and Elias wondered if this was all a game.

If it was a game, he was losing terribly, and he knew he wouldn't have a second chance to redeem himself.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

 

Head spinning, Elias lifted his gaze from the floor and caught the outline of a familiar shape. Lucas was standing in the open doorway, eyes wide and looking angry. He glanced down to Elias then up to their father before another horrible shriek erupted from the kitchen. Elias forgotten, their father stepped over him and headed for Lucas.

 

He evaded the mans drunken aim easily enough, and shoving him hard into the wall, Lucas ducked under him and came to kneel beside Elias. His hands were firm as they gripped his upper arms, and he lifted him to his knees as gently as he could.

 

“Why are you here?” he hissed, his eyes searching his brothers' face. “You're covered in blood.”

“Mom,” Elias blubbered, his eyes brimming with tears. “she called and she was screaming, and she yelled and the phone went dead and I didn't know what to do—she called the police, did she call the police?”

 

He could hear himself rambling, but it didn't matter. A searing pain was running up and down his back, and black spots were swimming in his vision. He caught Lucas's worried glance before his head fell forward. Struggling to remain conscious, he grit his teeth as Lucas leaned him against the wall.

 

“She didn't call the police, she called me.”

 

His brothers' presence disappeared, and he could hear his fathers' heavy breathing as he got to his feet. Elias couldn't help the wave of fear that washed over him, and when he passed by him, he didn't know if it was because of relief or the wounds on his back, but blackness consumed his consciousness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

When Elias woke up, the lights that flashed continuously above him caused his eyes to hurt. Letting them fall closed, he stayed still and tried to figure out where exactly he was.

There were voices surrounding him, and although they were muffled, he could hear the angry tones of someone, which, as his mind cleared, he recognized to be Lucas.

 

“Is he going to be alright? He's been like that for hours.”

“His wounds have been cleaned and tended to,” an unfamiliar voice responded. “It's just a matter of time before he regains consciousness.”

“Well what if he doesn't?”

“He's suffered a severe wound to the back, but no head trauma is apparent. Mr. Taylor, calm down and let us do our jobs. We know what we're doing.”

“You'd better,” Elias could hear Lucas mumble.

 

He stayed like that for several moments, lying wherever he was, before he let his eyelids flutter open. The bright light was gone, and he wondered if he'd imagined it. A shadow fell across his face seconds later, and he found himself staring into a set of worried green eyes.

 

“You're awake?”

 

He found he couldn't bring himself to speak, and he wondered why his throat was sore. Until he remembered he had been screaming. Shifting ever so slightly, he let out a cough before attempting to prop himself up on his elbows. Lucas pushed him back down gently, and looked up.

 

Following his gaze, Elias's eyes fell across a short, stout man who was dressed in black slacks, a white button-down shirt and a long, white coat. The nametag on his coat said `Dr. J. Samuel' and Elias came to a conclusion. He was in the hospital.

 

Again?

 

“Well, good morning,” Samuel joked, tucking the clipboard he was holding under his arm. “I'm glad to see you're awake. How are you feeling?”

 

Elias opened his mouth to speak, but truth be told, he couldn't feel anything.

Shaking his head as a substitute for words, he caught the doctor nodding.

 

“It's the morphine in his system,” he explained to Lucas. “Painkillers.”

“I know what morphine is,” Lucas snapped. “Are you sure it's that? Not because of his back?”

“Most positive. We did several tests and some X-rays when you brought him in. No nerves were damaged in the accident. He'll be fine.”

“When can I go home?” Elias whispered. Lucas shifted his gaze from the doctor to him, and then he looked back to the doctor.

 

“I don't know,” he bit out. “He won't tell me.”

The man took the clipboard out from under his arm, and flipping through several pages, he nodded some. As he let the papers fall back, he stepped forward and patted Elias's foot.

 

“In a few days. Your body seems to be functioning properly but we want you here for observation. That was quite a nasty beating you took.”

 

The doctor fell silent as Lucas shot him a glare, and he nodded before hurrying out of the room. Slumping back into the chair beside the bed, Lucas sighed and cradled his head in his hands. Elias watched him silently a moment before slowly easing himself upwards on the bed so that he was in a seated position. His back ached dully, but it was nothing more then a discomfort.

 

The memories that floated around his mind were hazy, most likely because of the drugs in his system, but he could recall quite clearly what had transpired. Gingerly rubbing the back of his neck, Elias shifted carefully.

 

“Where's mom?”

“In ICU.”

“What…?”

“The doctors said she suffered a large blood loss; they don't know if she'll be okay. She's had a transfusion, but they can't make any promises.”

 

Fear seized him.

He wasn't fond of his mother, true, but he didn't know what he would do without her.

Living with Lucas was only a temporary thing, and there was no way he would let him live with their father. Not after what happened…

 

“And dad?”

“He's in jail.”

“The police arrested him?”

“The neighbors called them.”

“Are you okay?”

 

Lifting his face, Lucas gave him an odd look. Nodding several times, he raked a hand through his hair before exhaling.

 

“You scared me,” he muttered. “When I came back, you were passed out in the hallway. You looked…dead.”

“Dead?”

“You were pale,” he began, lifting his eyes from the floor. “and your breathing was shallow. I thought you were dead.”

“Who called the ambulance?”

“One of the neighbors,” Lucas replied. “I ended up getting dad out of the house, and someone saw what was going on, so they dialed 911. That's my guess, at least.”

 

Nodding, Elias fell silent, having run out of questions. He played with the blankets strewn over his lap nervously, before sighing and turning his head to the window.

 

“So I won't get to go home today?”

“Looks that way.”

 

Elias couldn't help the tears that stung his eyes. He was landing himself in the Hospital a lot. Too much. The people were probably getting suspicious of him; Lucas was probably getting sick of it, too. Sniffing carefully, he ducked his head and focused very hard on the material between his fingers.

 

“Elias? What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” he bit out, and he could have kicked himself when it came out as a whimpered mumble. “I'm fine.”

 

Lucas, as usual, wasn't buying it. The scrape of metal against the floor as he got up caused Elias to lift his gaze, which he realized, was a big mistake as soon as he did it.

Lucas's green eyes were fixed on his own, and he sat down on the bed beside him. A hand came up to gently brush against his cheek, and he tilted his head.

“What's wrong?”

 

-*-

 

The pouty look he received after asking his question contradicted the very words that left the boys lips. Shaking his head, Lucas let his gaze wander over his features before giving a sigh. He didn't want to bug him about it—but he was worried. Terribly worried.

 

He cringed at the thought of seeing Elias passed out cold in the hallway, and could only quell the anxiety in his chest by reasoning that the boy was here now, sitting up in front of him, very much alive and ...crying?

 

“Hey,” he started, somewhat surprised. “Elias, don't cry.”

 

But he was. His tiny shoulders were shaking, and his head was ducked. Lucas could hear him sniffing, and he had dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. No doubt to try and stop the tears.

 

Hands coming to gingerly rest on the boys' shoulders, Lucas shifted closer on the bed so that he was able to pull the weeping boy against him. His hand moved down to caress his injured back, his fingertips brushing ever so lightly against the bandaged wounds. Fingers moving to cup the nape of his neck, he tilted the boys face up and gently pried away his hands with his own free one.

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

Large, crystalline blue eyes widened at the question, and the already glazed-over optics filled up with tears. His lips continued to tremble, but instead of pulling away from Lucas, he slumped up against him and pressed his face into his chest.

 

“It's okay,” he soothed, his arms moving to wrap around Elias in a loose embrace.

“This whole thing,” Elias mumbled into Lucas's chest, “This whole thing is so fucked up.”

His grip tightened on Elias as he said that, and Lucas bent to kiss the crown of Elias's head. Nodding in his hair, he exhaled shakily. They stayed like that for what could have been moments-hours? He wasn't sure. But he lifted his head again, and Elias was sleeping against him.

 

Setting him back against the bed, Lucas carefully got to his feet and stretched what he realized, were aching muscles. As he did this, he looked towards the door and then back to Elias. He was sleeping, all right. He could go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Then he'd return.

 

As he left, Sheek was lounging outside by the door. Is head was tilted back against the wall, and he didn't even spare Lucas a glance as he left. Simply fell into step beside him, and they proceeded in silence to the elevator.

As the doors slid closed, leaving them alone in the small compartment, Sheek sighed and gave a small shake of his head. Lucas continued to stare straight ahead, before he could stand the gaze of his friend no longer. Letting out a growl, he turned to face him.

 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Exactly.”

 

Sheek watched him a moment before exhaling.

 

“That was a stupid thing to do, on your part.”

“What was?”

“Taking on your father like that. He was pretty drunk.”

“He hurt Elias,” Lucas quipped, with little emotion on his face. “I wasn't not going to do anything.”

 

The doors parted, and they stepped out of the elevator. Moving down the darkened hallways, they fell into silence once more. The chatter of other people surrounded them as they neared the cafeteria, and Lucas cut a sharp turn in hopes of ditching Sheek.

 

He was his best friend, yes, but sometimes, his words, his observant nature, they were too much to handle. Rubbing his temples, he snatched up a sandwich that had been engulfed in saran wrap, and headed to the cashier. He really wasn't' that hungry anymore.

 

 

-

 

Once back in Elias's room, Lucas sat down in the chair by the bed. He ate his sandwich silently, as he watched the boy sleep. He didn't seem to be in pain, and his facial expression was relaxed, as was his breathing.

 

Eyes sweeping over his face, Lucas swallowed and leaned back in his chair.

His knee bounced nervously as he looked around the relatively empty room, before his gaze once more came to rest on that of his brother.

 

Sheek hadn't followed him up; he wagered he probably stayed in the cafeteria to get something to eat himself. Grateful for that, Lucas threw the remains of his sandwich in the wastebasket. It was getting late. He'd been there all day, since Elias had been transferred from ICU to the lower levels of the hospital.

 

The sun was setting, and it was getting dark out. Leaning over the bed, Lucas placed a kiss on Elias's forward and turned to go. A small hand shot out and grappled at his sweater, before fingers curled around the material firmly. Looking over his shoulder, Lucas didn't understand the feelings that washed over him.

 

Elias's face was still relaxed, but his eyes were wide open, and although they were clouded with sleep, they looked worried.

 

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

 

He sat up, and alarm rose in Lucas when the boy winced. His hand automatically reached out, and he eased him back onto his bet.

 

“I don't want you to go,” he whispered, his hand still clinging to his sweater. “I don't want you to go.”

 

“Okay,” Lucas nodded. “Okay, Elias, I won't go. Just go back to sleep.”

 

Elias continued to look at him in the dimming room, before he shuffled carefully on the bed. Lucas understood the pleading look he gave him, and moving to sit beside him on the bed, he rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm gently about the boys' waist.

 

“You're not going to be here when I wake up,” Elias whimpered, as he lay back down beside Lucas. “You're just going to wait until I fall asleep again.”

 

“I was with you last time wasn't I?” Lucas asked, brushing a strand of hair from Elias's face. “I'll be here, don't worry.”

 

Tightening his grip around Elias's waist, Lucas pressed a soft kiss against the junction of his throat, before nestling his face against his neck. Elias stilled, stiffened almost, and Lucas didn't exactly have to wonder why. He trailed his lips along his neck lazily, before bestowing a kiss to his jaw and then moving to his face. His hand slid up from his waist, and he cupped his jaw.

 

Elias was watching him, wearily almost.

 

“Go to sleep, Elias.”

 

Elias was watching him, staring at him almost, and although the look he was receiving unnerved him, Lucas forced his expression to remain calm as he returned the boys gaze.

Hesitantly, Elias shifted closer, and curling his fingers into the material of his sweater at the base of his throat, he rested his head on Lucas's arm and closed his eyes.

 

Lucas smiled and let his hand fall back onto his waist, and he leaned down to yank up the comforter so that the boy wouldn't get cold.

 

 

A/N: Eh. Sorry I haven't updated soon. This chapter took longer to write then I would have expected. I feel kind of bad, because I keep sending this poor boy to the damned Hospital. This is going to be the last time he'll be here, I swear. XD (Well, for his well being anyway…) I hoped you liked it. Let me know what you think via review. <3333 And thanks to everyone has reviewed so far. I feel special. :]