What Was Left Unsaid: Quicker Than Darkness

[wakingbreath]

What Was Left Unsaid Chapter Index

Main characters and pairings featured in this chapter: Craig, Albert, Joey, Snake aka Mr. Simpson.
Brief summary of this chapter: Retelling of When Doves Cry, the episode that introduced us to Craig Manning. Revisions of events and digging more into his home life. In this chapter, Craig decides he's going to leave his father's house and he doesn't care how he makes that happen.

2. Quicker Than Darkness
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It was getting hard to separate the days. Sometimes Craig was scarcely aware of the moments he fell asleep and when he would wake up. Sometimes it was hard to tell if the moments of darkness were because night had fallen or because he’d blacked out from the pain. His head was normally a little fuzzy, either cause he simply refused to acknowledge that this was his reality or from lack of food. What the hell did he need to eat for? He certainly didn’t need the strength because he never fought back. The anger he felt towards himself about that was phenomenal. If he could only take all the rage he felt when he was alone, silently wishing for his father’s death, and just apply to those moments when his father came at him like an animal. He’d started to punish himself for it, bringing the razor across his wrists. He always stopped each slice before it got too close to his vein though. His father was disturbed when he’d found out and that brought on a wave of presents and encouragement to go out with his friends. But he didn’t have any friends, not anymore. If Sean and Ashley were giving him looks that signaled they were approachable, he didn’t see them. He didn’t want to. He knew that his father’s nice demeanor would shift and he had to be ready for it.

So there was his emergency stash. The shoe box contained the money his father would give him out of guilt, his perfect family scrapbook, and an assortment of pills he’d been sneaking out of the medicine cabinet. He knew from the labels that they were sedatives and painkillers. His father had even given them to him before, once he cooled down and realized that he took things too far. “It’s just like really strong Tylenol,” his father had soothed, placing the pill on Craig’s tongue and bringing a glass of water up to his lips. Craig’s trembling slowly began to subside and his low crying tapered off, like the rain after a strong storm. He was just there, no pain. He was entirely empty now and it wasn’t the lonely ache of emptiness he felt when he thought there was no where to turn. It was empty, like an unoccupied room, just empty and there. He didn’t even care that his father remained next to him and usually that was the last person he wanted near him after something like this happened.

These fatherly moments were his blind spot. He knew they were there, maybe not so much anymore, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge them. And he was always looking for them, waiting for them. He was his father after all. Who else did he have? Joey had refused him, deciding that dad’s rule of no contact was best. He had Angela, sort of. He was loosing his grip on her though. When he wasn’t tired and achy, he’d flirt with Emma Nelson, who’d extend her babysitting duties to him in return. But even his time with Angie was becoming tainted. He found himself becoming too envious of her innocence, her trust, and even her father. It was like everything had this shadow over it. Everything was becoming so dark. Dark as night. And nighttime was a dangerous time.

His father hated to be awakened from sleep. Craig knew that he had trouble sleeping and when he’d just completed a long day at work, he was especially irritable. He was never sure of just what his father would hear at night, but he knew that the bumps and bangs his father would hear were going to be blamed on him. Sometimes he was guilty. There was the time he dropped something in the bathroom. It was like his hearing had amplified. He swore he could hear him getting out of bed and the shuffle down the hall. He’d just stood there, a hand over his mouth. His eyes bugged out as he stared at the doorknob. But nothing happened. He could just feel him outside the door. He didn’t know how long he waited.

In a way, it was better when the beatings would happen at night. Then he could dismiss it all as a nightmare. If only he didn’t have the bruises and the scars that would tell the story.
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“I need to go to school now,” Craig mumbled. He could somewhat deal with the punishments his father handed out at night but this was another story. He couldn’t be that sore around all the kids at school. He didn’t want them to see his eyes red and swollen from crying.

“Hey. Wait a minute,” Albert said in a low, firm tone.

Craig froze. He felt his father grab onto the back of his shirt. He gave a quick tug and Craig found himself pressed against him. Albert spun Craig around quickly and Craig found himself pressed up against the wall, his fathers hand wrapped around his arms. Craig winced at the tight grip.

“Please. Please. I’m going to be late,” Craig felt panicked at the thought of having to deal with school officials this morning. He simply couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take anymore pressure.

“We just need to have a little chat,” Albert said. “I remind you the night before and for some reason, it just doesn’t stick.”

Craig nodded rapidly, knowing what he was about to say.

“You are not allowed to see Angela and Joey. Is that clear?”

Craig wasn’t sure if he had stopped nodding. “Yes. I know.”

Albert gave Craig another quick shake, “I hate to do this to you Craig, but it’s the only way we are going to make any headway with you. I don’t know how else to get you to remember.”

“I know,” Craig managed to whisper and let out a small cry.

“Okay. Get off to school, then.”

Craig didn’t even bother asking for his father to write him a late note. He silently called himself names as he headed off to school. It hurt to walk, but he was too relieved to get away from that man. He was sure that it took him twice as long to walk to school today.

“Mr. Manning, you are late again,” Mr. Armstrong greeted Craig once he saw him in the hallway. So much for making it to class unnoticed. He figured he could gloss over his tardiness with his music teacher, but here was another obstacle.

“Yes. I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to class right now.”

“Go check in at the front office.”

“I don’t have a note.”

“All the reason to go to the front office. I’m sure that Mr. Raditch would like to speak with you about your tardiness.”

Craig tried to ignore the tears burning in his eyes. He wanted to scream. This was too much.

“I’m late,” Craig said to the school secretary. He noticed how weak and tired he sounded. He had to pull himself together.

“Can I see your note?” She asked politely.

“Um, I don’t have one. I didn’t ask my dad for one.”

The secretary had to sigh. She pulled out a file and glanced over some papers. “You’ve been tardy twice this week and it’s only Wednesday. Not to mention all the other times. I think Mr. Raditch is going to want to have a talk with you.”

He could only nod as she picked up the phone and spoke to the principal. She hung up the phone and then gestured to a chair. “Have a seat. He will be with you in a few minutes.”

Craig glanced at the chair like it was his enemy. He then looked back over at the secretary to see if she noticed. She hadn’t. He almost sighed with relief as he watched her stand up and head out into the hallway. Then he began the task of making an attempt to sit down. He frantically tried several positions and found that the best was to tuck his leg under him so his weight rested on his thigh. He felt a brief moment of solace since he had found a solution to that problem. He knew Raditch would make him sit down for their little visit. He couldn’t hardly refuse and back up against the wall.

He pulled out a notebook and began to frantically write. He needed to do something to keep himself calm. He would rewrite the same phrases over and over again. “Please be quiet.” “Please just stop.” “Shhh.” It was all an effort to stop the noise in his head. He began to scribble more aggressively as secrets began to trickle out “Fuck you for doing this to me.” “It’s your fault.” “I hate you.” “Go to Hell.” “I hate you.” “It hurts.” He turned the page and scrawled, “I’m being abused.” Could he give it to someone? Hey, maybe he could leave an anonymous note somewhere. He turned the page again. “I think Craig Manning is being abused.” He could slip it into the guidance counselor’s mailbox. Or ’s. He was beginning to like that idea. Mr. Simpson was Joey’s friend. He could talk to Joey. Joey could fix it. Joey helped him with his mother’s death, he could help him now. Joey seemed like a safe guy. He turned the page again and attempted to print in a handwriting style that was not his own, “I think Craig Manning is being abused by his father. Can you help?”

“Craig?”

He glanced up at Raditch and quickly closed his notebook. He stood up slowly and went into the office. He watched Raditch sit down and then did the same, slowly easing himself down. He used the arm rests for support and hoped it wasn’t too obvious. He hoped it came across as nervousness, a hesitancy to have this conversation.

“You aren’t starting the school year out too well,” Raditch observed as he looked over Craig’s file.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think of to say.

“You’ve had 2 absences, about a dozen tardies and we are only three weeks into school.”

He could only shake his head.

“Your grades are average, which surprises me because you did exceptionally well at your last school. Has it been a rough transition from boarding school to a public school?”

He shook his head again. Actually that was the case. At boarding school he was safe and he could do his school work. Here he was with his father, who sucked up all of his time. If he wasn’t smacking him around, he was recovering from it, and if he wasn’t doing that he was trying to get on his father's good side. He couldn’t concentrate on school. “Maybe,” Craig finally said. “It is really different being at home...I mean, in a public school.”

“So what’s up?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” was all he could think of to say. He lowered his eyes from Raditch’s stare.

“Do we need to call your dad in for a visit? Is he aware of what’s going on?”

“Please don’t do that,” Craig said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then you need to start getting here on time. Did you oversleep this morning?”

“No,” Craig answered truthfully.

“Why were you tardy today, Craig?”

“I had to take care of my dad. He’s been sick.”

“Why didn’t he write you a note?”

“I didn’t want to bother him with it,” Craig answered truthfully.

Raditch sighed and gave Craig a firm stare. “Okay. Anymore unexcused tardies or absences and we are calling a meeting with your father, do you understand?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Craig said and sighed with relief.
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Craig needed to get out of here. He needed this to stop. He needed to escape. And he would escape with Angela, he’d decided later that day. Emma even provided him with the opportunity. So he’d taken Angela to the park like he said he was going to, and then lured her over to the ice cream stand. As she licked at the vanilla ice cream cone, he proposed his plan. Those nasty bruises she’d seen? Well, they were from a dinosaur and they had to get away from the razor-toothed beasts. British Columbia didn’t have them; they should escape while they still can. He was so close when Joey had to show up and Angie revealed their plans.

He was sitting at the kitchen table now, anxiously rolling around golf balls. Back and forth, back and forth. Craig was rocking slightly as he rolled the balls. Back and forth, back and forth. Craig wasn't even concentrating on what he was doing. He just found comfort in the tedious repetition. He had no idea how his father was going to react once he found out he had spent the afternoon with Angela, how Angela had revealed his great escape to B.C. plan to Joey. From Joey's angered response, he knew Joey would be calling.

"Hey Craigger," his father greeted him as he came in, "Why are you home so early? Anything wrong kiddo?"

"Nah. I just had a long day, that's all," Craig said as he turned to look at his dad.

Albert took note of Craig's weary expression and said, "Well don't worry about it. We'll take it easy tonight. I've got some take-out here, a few videos."

Craig nodded and forced a smile.

"So, did you buy a new camera today?" Albert asked.

"Ah, no,” Craig said, and then his plans of running away entered his head again. There was no reason he still couldn’t leave. He quickly added, "The one I really want is about a hundred more."

"Well, we'll go check it out tomorrow. Your father is an outstanding haggler," Albert replied.

As Albert turned away, Craig smirked, pleased with his lie about the camera and how his dad had bought it. The phone rang and Craig's face fell. His father quickly answered the phone.

"Joey!" Albert exclaimed out of surprised, "What do you want?"

Craig rose to his feet fairly quickly. He watched his father's expression, how his features tightened as he listened to Joey speak. Several times Albert removed the phone from his ear, anxious to reprimand Craig for disobeying him yet again. But he kept listening and Craig took the chance to run up to his room. He was in a panic as he heard his father coming up the stairs behind him. Craig attempted to close his bedroom and was fumbling for the locks when his dad burst in. The door knocked him to the floor and he scrambled to his feet. Craig backed away from his father, holding his hands out in front him as if to say “no” or “please don't.”

Albert Manning shook his head at his son, "I can't believe you. Why can't you just let it go? I am your family. There is a reason I don't want you around Joey and Angela. I know what's best for you. Why can't you accept that?"

Craig shook his head and mumbled, "I don’t know."

“Joey is not your father!”

Craig stared past his father, stared straight at the doorway. He vividly imagined his escape. Charge at him and knock him over. Then race down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. Just do it. But he couldn’t move. His father was in the way. How was he going to get out of this one?

"I don't know why I don't think," Craig offered.

Albert reached for Craig and shook him hard, "I'll have to get you to remember. If you think that I enjoy this…" he snapped, “This is the only way we’re ever going to get you to remember.”

"I'll try to..." Craig couldn't finish as his father pushed him down on the floor. Craig struggled to get to his feet but his father pushed him down again. His father was over him now, shaking him hard. Craig's head bounced back with each shake and once it struck the floor hard. Tears immediately sprung to his eyes from the throbbing pain.

His father let go of him and Craig fell back on the floor. Craig struggled to breath, to think. He watched as his father took off his belt and his heart sank. Craig did not fight to get away this time. He took the belt as well as he could, trying not to cry. He hated it when his father saw him cry. Craig just curled up on the floor and tried to cover his face so his father wouldn’t' see the tears streaming down his face. But soon he could hear himself crying. Then he heard nothing.

Craig wasn’t sure if he had blinked or if he was just waking up. All he knew was that his bedroom was growing dark now. He was still on the floor, lying on his side, with his gaze fixed on the wall. Had he been staring this whole time? It was possible. Or did he simply pass out? It really didn’t matter; all that mattered was that he wasn’t all there. Reality was crashing down now. He wished that he could just sleep forever and just forget who he was.

Craig slowly eased himself up and clutched his head briefly. The pain seemed to stab at him all over. He glanced at the clock- a little after 7 pm. He tried to piece together the day’s events. He spent after school with Angela, and the altercation with Joey, home in the late afternoon, and then Dad...

Craig's mind came to a halt. He didn't want to think about what happened.

It was getting harder and harder to deny what was happening though. Time to survey the damage, Craig decided and slowly got to his feet. He went over to his bedroom door and quietly fastened several locks. Walking was horribly painful and Craig choked back a sob. He was almost afraid to turn on the lights, but after some hesitation decided on the small desk lamp. Craig approached the mirror and began to look himself over. He took off his shirt and examined the bruises from the day before, the welts from the belt beating before that, and the marks that were beginning to show from today's beating. He didn't dare look over the rest of himself. He just didn't want to know. He was a mess and everything was a mess.

I don’t know how to fix this, Craig thought wildly. He kept telling himself that and soon the panic diminished to sadness. He had to get away from here. But where would he go? His brain quietly whispered Joey and he went for his emergency shoe box, the one that held the money, pills, and his “Perfect Family” scrapbook. He first went for the scrapbook but instead of comfort, it felt like the final blow. It was everything he never could have.

Craig’s mind again returned to suicide. He had been thinking about it for awhile. Running away was his first plan, if that failed, then he'd off himself. He didn't see any other way out. His father hadn’t missed the pills he’d been sneaking from the medicine cabinet. Craig doubted that he’d miss him once he was gone. Who would miss him if he was gone? He’d hinted at that in Kwan’s class in his introduction speech. “Right…me in an infinite universe, an insignificant plant. What are we? One of six billion inhabitants, big deal. Honestly, if I were to say...(he’d stopped himself from uttering “kill myself” and instead substituted)...if I were to disappear, who’d care? What would it matter? A subatomic blimp in the temporal fabric of creation. So there you have it. Craig Manning.” Maybe Craig was silently hoping that his teacher, or someone, anyone, would know those words were an alarm and do what he couldn’t - get help. Craig opened the bottle, took several tablets, then paused, and thought about what he was about to do. He didn't want to die here at his dad's house. Maybe he didn't even want to die at all.

Craig's eyes rested on his 'perfect family' scrapbook again. He removed a picture of Joey and Angela. Maybe Joey would understand. Maybe he could try one more time to fix things. He could try one more time. Just one more time and if it didn’t work, he’d give up. Craig tore a few photos out of the book and stuffed them in his pocket. He hesitated and then put the pill bottle in his pocket as well as the cash he had from his father. Craig quietly opened the window and peered out. His dad's car was in the driveway. Craig felt a sense of despair, but he figured he'd have to make an attempt to get out of here. Who knows what else would happen tonight. Craig crawled out the window and down to the ground. He wasn't coming back here, no matter what.

Craig moved as quickly as he could, farther and farther away from his dad's house. He was full of so many emotions and that drove him to keep moving and ignore the pain, keep running towards Joey. He arrived there, out of breath and the pain returning to him. He stood in front of the house for awhile, noticing that Joey's car and another car was in the driveway and all the lights on in the house. Craig felt a moment of panic and didn't want to do this anymore. He reached into his pocket and took out the bottle of pills. He dumped them into his hand and began taking them. Another moment of panic seized him. He stopped and put the rest back and tucked them back into his pocket.

Craig swallowed hard and approached the front door. He paused and listened to the sounds of laughter and talking in the house. His heart ached and he blinked away tears. What was he going to say, he wondered as he pressed the door bell.

Craig was surprised when his teacher Mr. Simpson answered the door.

"Hey Craig," Simpson said warmly but cautiously and glanced around for Joey.

Craig was silent for a moment, wondering what to do next.

"What's up Craig?" Simpson tried again.

Craig ran a hand through his hair. He half laughed, half choked back a sob. Tears of frustration and despair were welling up in his eyes again. "I don't know..." he managed to choke out.

Craig looked at Simpson's face for the first time, as he felt so awkward. He saw concern in Mr. Simpson's eyes. He knows something’s not right with me, Craig thought. Craig began to scratch nervously at one of his wrists, flinching as he tore into a fresh cut he had made on himself this morning. It was at this moment that Simpson reached out for him, taking his shoulder.

"Come on in," Simpson said.

"I'm not supposed to be here though. My dad doesn’t know. Just don’t tell him okay? And Joey's angry at me," Craig blurted out.

"We'll talk about that okay?" Simpson said, leading Craig inside, "If something's going on, we can talk about it, and I'm sure Joey will understand." Simpson unfortunately had seen this type of behavior in kids all too often. He wasn't sure what to suspect, but knew that Craig was in a poor state of mind. He had been watching him all week at school and noticed how unfocused and withdrawn he was.

"Where's Joey?" Craig asked nervously.

"He's in the kitchen. We were just getting together, like the old days. We used to go to school together, did you know that? We went to Degrassi too. Kind of funny that I'm teaching there now huh?"

Craig nodded and kept his eyes on the floor. He had no idea what Mr. Simpson had just said.

"Craig?"

Craig jerked his head up at the sound of Joey's voice. "I know this is a mistake and probably just annoying to you and I just wanted to say I'm sorry and I don't know what I was thinking with Angela earlier. I wasn't going to do anything, really," Craig paused and then added “I don't know what I'm doing right now. You know my dad doesn’t want me here. Just don’t tell him okay? He’d be really angry and I just can’t do this anymore."

Craig began to move towards the front door but Simpson reached out for his arm. As he touched Craig’s arm, Craig winced.

Joey and Simpson exchanged a worried look.

"It’s ok, Craig,” Joey said and slowly approached Craig.

"I don't think it's going to be," Craig muttered but didn't make an attempt for the door again.

He looked straight into Joey’s eyes and said, “I’m not going back there. Please…just don’t make me go back there.”

Joey put a hand on Craig's back to comfort him. Craig tried not to cringe or show any sign that he was uncomfortable. Joey sensed this and exchanged another concerned look with Simpson, thinking about the discussion they had earlier about Craig's behavior. Joey had brought up Craig to rant about him, how uncontrollable the teen seemed, and slowly he and his friend had started to put the pieces together. That kid needed help. Up until now, he wasn’t sure what kind of help he needed.

Joey began to rub Craig's back, "It's okay Craig," he said softly, "It's okay that you are here."

Craig exhaled in relief and his composure softened, Joey wasn’t touching a sore spot on his back. Joey kept rubbing his back reassuringly.

"Let's just go sit down," Joey said and pressed his hand gently on the middle of Craig's back, trying to urge him towards the couch.

Once his hand touched a sore spot, Craig inhaled sharply and jerked away violently. He couldn't help but glare at Joey with angry, tear filled eyes.

Joey quickly pulled his hand away from him. He wasn't sure what to do or exactly what was wrong with Craig. He had a hunch but that was hard to accept, for some reason. Maybe it was guilt. He really had no idea or how to handle this situation at all.

Simpson tried again, "Let's just go sit down. And I'll get you a coke or something, okay? And we'll just sit down and take it easy and talk a little bit okay?"

Craig rubbed his tear filled eyes. He hated the way he was looking in front of his stepfather and his teacher. He began to move towards the couch and the pain felt like it was a boulder crashing down on him. It all came at once, and Craig mostly felt it in his rear. Craig tried to keep it together and walked uncomfortably over to the couch.

Joey was beginning to feel panicked. He stared at Simpson with wild eyes, silently asking what they were supposed to do next. They watched as Craig paused by the couch.

Simpson moved quickly to Craig's side, wanting him to feel as comfortable as possible. "It's okay,” He said softly, and slipped an arm around Craig, "Let me help you sit down, okay?"

Craig glanced up at him and mumbled, "Okay."

"Just go slow, okay?" Simpson spoke softly, putting his hands under Craig's elbows to support some of his weight as he sat down, so the pain wouldn't be overwhelming all at once. Craig accepted this offer and gripped Simpson’s arms.

Craig's breathing became sharp and rapid. Joey and Simpson noticed how his eyes glistened with tears.

"I know it hurts, Craig" Simpson soothed, as he eased Craig down onto the couch. Craig still held onto Simpson’s arms as he tried to breathe normally. Simpson kneeled beside Craig and watched him with concern.

“Take it easy,” he soothed.

Craig let go of Simpson’s one arm so he could wipe the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t know why, but he just didn’t want to let go of him. Simpson continued to let Craig grip his forearm. He felt like he should touch Craig, comfort him in some way, but he didn’t want to touch a spot that was sore. He kneeled next to Craig for a few minutes, not saying a word. Craig wouldn’t look him in the face. Finally Craig released him and put his shaky hand in his lap.

Joey stood stiffly, a few feet from Craig, in a sort of shock. He didn't know this was happening to Craig. He began to feel guilty for the day's earlier events. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to apologize and give Craig some sort of explanation

"Hey Craig," Simpson spoke softly.

Craig didn't look at him.

"Craig?" Simpson tried again.

"Yes?" Craig managed to respond. He was beginning to feel dizzy and wasn't sure why. But then again he wasn't sure about much lately.

"Hey, I just want you to sit here for a minute, okay? Joey and I are going to go in the kitchen. He'll grab you a coke and I'm going to call Christine...Emma's Mom...and tell her what's up, okay?"

Craig mumbled something unintelligible.

"Craig?" Simpson tried again.

"Christine, tell her what...hey Angela, is she here? What are you going to tell them?" Craig mumbled.

"Angela's at her grandma's for the weekend. It's just me and Joey here. I'm just going to call Christine and tell her I'm not coming over later tonight, okay?"

"Okay."

"Stay right there, okay?"

"Okay."

He glanced up and saw Simpson leading Joey out to the kitchen. Joey hasn’t said much to me, Craig thought sadly. Tears burned his eyes again. He wondered what they were talking about in the kitchen; he knew it was about him. Did they want to send him back to his dads? To the hospital? Craig began to feel weak. He looked down at his shaking hands. He thought about his injuries and what was happening now. And the pills. Craig felt terrified. He got up slowly and walked out in the kitchen.

"I should have known something was wrong with him, Snake. I don't why I didn't see it. He tried to run off with Angela this afternoon and when I spoke to his dad about it, he made it sound like Craig was sick, like he's out of control. And maybe Craig is sick. I don’t know. But something is wrong with him. The way he was walking and how it hurt him to sit..." Joey trailed off as he noticed Craig standing in the doorway.

“Craig…” Joey started, “I’m not saying any of this to be mean. I’m concerned.”

“I don’t care. I just don’t feel well right now.”

“Okay, Craig, let’s go back out to the living room and sit down. You look really tired,” Simpson said and lead Craig out into the living room.

Craig stopped and tried to make sense of things. He suddenly felt like he wasn’t really there anymore. It was hard to focus on one thing. He stared blankly at Joey, but could hardly make sense of what he was saying. It was even harder to respond. His heart started to race.

“Craig, what’s wrong?” Joey asked as he noticed the teenager’s gaze wander around the room, “Hey, are you okay?”

Craig didn’t respond to Joey. He leaned up against the wall and closed his eyes.

Simpson put an arm under Craig, afraid he was going to collapse. “Craig, what’s wrong?”

The teenager opened his eyes and looked at the concern on the faces of his stepfather and teacher. He put a hand on his chest and felt his heart thump wildly. His first thought was that he was having a heart attack. Chills were shooting through his body. He remembered the pills.

“My heart is beating really fast,” Craig mumbled, not wanting to tell the adults what he had done.

Joey put a hand on Craig’s chest and felt his stepson’s heart pound like it was going to explode out of his chest. He looked at Craig’s glassy, dilated eyes.

“I don’t feel good,” Craig mumbled, his muscles feeling weak. He just wanted to go to sleep. Panic set in again, “I think I made a mistake.”

The adults grabbed onto Craig as he began to fall to the floor. They eased him onto his back.

“He must’ve taken something,” Simpson said and put his hand on Craig’s chest, “His heart is beating like crazy.”

“What’s going on?” Craig whispered as he began to wake up.

“You fainted,” Joey answered, “Why’d that happen?”

“I didn’t mean for this happen,” he mumbled.

“Craig, did you take something? Did you take some kind of drug?” Simpson asked.

“This can’t be happening,” Craig muttered and began to sit up, “I don’t want this anymore.”

Joey put his hands on Craig’s back to support him. Simpson put a hand on the back of his neck to hold up his head. They watched as he gazed around the room.

“I’m really dizzy,” he mumbled and promptly turned his head to the side and began to vomit. He hadn’t eaten much all day and threw up mostly water. Between dry heaves, he caught sight of one of the tablets he had swallowed.

Craig felt himself becoming more aware of what was going on. He felt Joey’s hands under his armpits and Simpson’s had one hand on his back and the other on his neck. He wished he had the strength to wipe the saliva and vomit off his chin.

Simpson took a tissue and wiped Craig’s chin. Craig decided he was too dizzy and out of it to care what he looked like in front of his stepfather and teacher.

“I threw up on your floor,” he mumbled to Joey.

“You mostly just had the dry heaves,” Joey said to Craig. He noticed something white lying on the stain.

“Hold onto him,” he asked Simpson.

Joey picked up the white tablet off the floor, “That’s a pill, isn’t it?” He looked at Craig quizzically. Craig was breathing slow and shallow now. His eyelids were heavy.

“That’s what it looks like,” Simpson answered.

Craig barely heard Simpson ask, “You’ve been taking pills?”

He weakly turned his head to the side to look at his teacher. He tried to work his mind around this and figure out what to say. He felt his head drop down.

“Damn it, Craig,” Joey said and lifted up his head and looked at his face, “Don’t you dare do this.”

“I’m going to lay him down and call an ambulance,” Simpson said to Joey.

“Just wait, he’s waking up,” Joey urged and still held Craig’s head in his hands.

Simpson sighed, “He’s not going to stay awake much longer. We need to get him to the hospital.”

“No,” Craig muttered, “That’s why I did this.”

“What?” Joey said and pushed Craig’s hair off his sweaty forehead, “What does that mean?”

Craig looked into Joey’s eyes but couldn’t find the courage to tell him.

“What did you take?” Joey asked frantically.

“In my pocket. Dad’s pills, pain pills and Valium,” Craig managed to say. His head pounded as his heart raced.

“How many did you take?”

Craig weakly shook his head, “I don’t know.”

Simpson eased Craig down onto his back. “I’m going to put him in the recovery position,” Simpson said as he turned Craig over on his left side and pulled his right leg up so he couldn’t roll over on his stomach. “Keep him there,” Simpson said as he got up and promptly went for the phone.

Joey felt of Craig’s pockets. He felt a pill bottle his stepson’s jeans pocket and pulled it out. He noticed that Craig’s shirt had risen slightly. Joey stopped breathing for a moment as he noticed the purple tint of a bruise on Craig’s abdomen. He pulled his stepson’s shirt up slightly. He gasped as he looked at the huge bruise on his stepson’s right side.

"The ambulance is coming. They said not to move him. And to keep him warm,” Simpson said as he returned with a blanket.

Simpson paused as he noticed the bruise on Craig’s side, “Oh no,” he said as he knelt beside the teenager.

“Yeah,” Joey said sadly, “Remember what he was talking about earlier? Not wanting to go back to his father’s.”

Joey touched Craig’s forehead and looked into his dazed half opened eyes, “I think we know why this happened, Craig.”

Simpson draped the blanket over Craig, “Let’s keep you warm.”

Craig tried to roll onto his back. Joey held him, “Craig, just keep still.”

Craig let out a low sob as he continued to struggle, “I hate being held down.”

“Craig, just listen to me. I know you are very uncomfortable but try to relax and stay still.”

Craig began to jerk with dry heaves again. “I want this to stop,” Craig muttered, “I don’t feel good. My throat feels like it’s swollen.”

“I know, kiddo,” Joey said, “It’ll stop soon. The ambulance will be here soon and we’ll get you some help.”

He watched as Craig’s eyes closed. The men kneeled beside Craig and listened as he struggled to breathe. His chest barely moved with each breath.

“You could have just told me what was happening,” Joey said to his very still stepson. If it wasn’t for his ragged gasps for air, Joey wouldn’t have been sure Craig was even breathing. “What the hell did you do?”

The two men leaned over Craig, watching him breathe. Joey put his hand on Craig’s chest.

“His heart is going wild. It’ll speed up, then slow down some, and then start racing again,” he said.

“I’m worried about his breathing,” Simpson declared. “If he doesn’t start breathing better..."

“Come on, Craig,” Joey interrupted and continued to plead to his unconscious stepson, “Just hang in there.”

Joey was so focused on Craig that he didn’t notice the paramedics in the room now. Simpson eased Joey onto his feet and away from Craig.

“Let them take care of him now,” he said.

Joey watched as the medics checked Craig’s vitals and quickly lifted him onto a stretcher. An oxygen mask was placed over Craig’s nose and mouth. Joey was relieved to see that it fogged each time Craig exhaled. He’s still breathing then. Just keep breathing.

“Do you know what he took? Do you have the bottles?” One medic asked.

Joey handed them the bottle he took out of Craig’s pocket.

As they headed out the door, Joey glanced back at Simpson.

“Go with him,” Simpson said, “I’ll follow.”