ONE
A hot August Friday afternoon and the street festival was just getting underway. Vin glanced down the long street toward the intersection another block away where rides and arcade games were just starting to hum into life. He muttered to himself under his breath. Having to mow Nettie's lawn today. Not only the hottest day of the year, but the opening day of the Maplewood Avenue Festival. Still, he promised he'd do it and by God, he would.Nettie's house was half a block down from the apartment building Vin lived in on the corner of the street. An old neighborhood, still decent though, with a mix of races and cultures, and the last weekend of every August since forever was the street festival. This was the first year Vin lived in the neighborhood, the first year he would go to the festival, and he was determined not to miss a minute of it.
Sweating just standing still, Vin unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it off his shoulders, letting it drag out of the waist of his jeans. He gave a few hard tugs on the rope pull of the old gas mower and it convulsed to life. A few more mutters under his breath at the bad timing of his promise to Nettie, and Vin began to mow her lawn. Nettie came onto the porch after awhile and watched him work. She owned an old house on an old block, and not much lawn came with it. A half dozen laps back and forth and he was nearly done. She walked down to him to get his attention.
"Don't forget Mrs. Millette's lawn," she shouted over the din. "I always mow her lawn too." Vin nodded and she went back into her house.
"No you don't," Vin said to himself, though. "I always do..."
People flocked down the shaded avenue, on their way to the games and food tents. Vin paid them no mind, unless their eyes met and they'd nod and smile a hello. No conversation could be held over the roar of the mower. Twenty minutes tops and Vin had finished both lawns. He cut the engine, much to the relief of his ears.
"Hi Vin," sounded dully over the ringing.
"Hey, Maria..." Vin smiled when he saw her. She was a sweet girl, fourteen maybe, she lived down the hall from him with her parents and little brothers. "Going to the fair?"
"Un hunh..." Her eyes swept the sidewalk in front of her, a slight blush on her features. She wore baggy clothes, jeans and a oversized t-shirt, she usually did, Vin thought to hide the fact that she was growing up. She was such a shy child, he always liked to see how big of a smile he could get out of her.
"Well, you meet me by the ice cream booth in an hour, and I'll buy you a Mexican sundae, okay?"
"Okay..." She smiled up at him sweetly and hugged her small brown paper bag a little closer before heading on to her home.
"Okay." Vin smiled back. He watched her a few more moments, making sure she got to the doorway of the apartment building, before turning back to the task of stowing the old mower back into the even older storage shed in Nettie's backyard. He'd only gotten as far as the picket fence gate strung between the two houses, tugging his shirt back on, when a sharp cry caught his attention.
"Stop it! Get away from me!" Maria's voice, in distress, and Vin was down the block in an instant. Maria had fallen, or been pushed, and sat nearly lying flat on the old tile threshold of the apartment building. Three boys stood above her, older teenagers, laughing at the girl and kicking at the contents that had dropped out of her bag - tampons.
"Guess you're a woman now, hunh?" One boy said. The others laughed. Maria was close to tears, trying to crawl away backwards, but she was blocked by the closed door. "Guess you know what that means..."
"Get away from me!" The neck of her t-shirt sagged as though it had been pulled on, and her eyes were wide with panic. Vin didn't recognize the teenagers and he shoved them out of the way as soon as he touched them.
"Get away from her!" he snarled, shoving them away to stand between them and the girl. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Two of the teenagers were taller than Vin, and the third outweighed him.
"We're just having a little fun - what's it to you?" The tallest of the three snapped back. "Just trying to tell her she's got a little magic going there, shouldn't hide it from the rest of us..."
"Shut up!" Maria yelled, even closer to crying, bundling the neck of her t-shirt closed with one hand. Without turning around to her, Vin said calmly:
"Maria, get up and go inside. Go to your Mom. Have her call the police. Go on honey, it's all right."
The three boys hooted when he called her 'honey' and Vin stared them down. There were police officers just a block away at the festival. He knew it and they knew it. "C'mon, let's go," the leader finally said. One of them spat at Vin's feet and flipped him a crude gesture as they walked away. But they left. Maria hadn't moved and Vin finally turned to her, crouching next to her.
"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
In answer Maria threw her arms around him, crying now in earnest. "They - they - t-t-t-t-ried to t-t-t-t-ouch m-m-m-m-m-e..."
"Okay, okay, shh honey, it's okay." Vin gathered her into an embrace. "Shh, shh... come on, let's go get your Mom..."
The police came and took a statement, got descriptions and said they'd keep an eye out at the festival for the toughs. Maria took to her room and tearfully insisted she'd never go outside again. Vin promised Maria he'd bring her back ice cream, and told her mother he'd stop by Dr. Hyde's apartment and ask him to come up. The doctor was a few months past retirement but was more than willing to help out wherever necessary, with anyone in the building. With that all accomplished, Vin went back to finally finish putting away Nettie's lawnmower. She was standing on the porch again.
"There you are. I thought you'd abandoned me for fried dough," she teased.
"Naah, Maria had a little problem. Some boys showing her too much attention. I chased them away and got her back to her Mom... poor kid, she hardly knows how to handle decent attention."
"Is she all right?" Nettie was instantly concerned.
"Shook up, I told her I'd bring her ice cream, said she wasn't going to the fair. Maybe tomorrow I can coax her out." He tucked in his shirt as he talked. "She's a good kid, I hate to see her scared like that...well, I'm going to park this baby..." He indicated the lawn mower. "Then I'll take a shower and meet you at the fair. Allright?"
"Okay Vin, I'll meet you at the cotton candy."
He grinned at her. "First one's on me."
Vin stopped at Maria's apartment, she was sleeping. Dr. Hyde had given her a very mild sedative. Other than being frightened, she was okay. Vin promised to check back later, to see if she was awake for ice cream, then he headed up the stairs to his own apartment. He stripped off his clothes in his bedroom and pulled on his bathrobe to head to the shower. He felt good. He was sorry for Maria but she'd be okay, he'd make sure of it. He'd mowed Nettie's lawn - and Mrs. Millette's. Work was still two blessedly long days away and he was a few scant minutes away from the street fetival and cotton candy. He felt good.
The old pipes complainingly offered up the hot water and Vin didn't hear the soft creak of his apartment door being jimmied open and softly closed again.
When Vin didn't make it to the fair, Nettie figured he'd been called away to work. It happened a lot. Later, after a few hours at the fair, she stopped by Vin's apartment on her way home. She rang the doorbell, but he didn't answer. Working late on his night off. She headed home, reminding herself to call him in the morning and invite him for breakfast.
+ + + + + + +
Vin heard the doorbell. He knew it meant somebody was trying to get in touch with him, but he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do about it. Huddled in a corner of his bathroom, with his robe on inside out, he waited for the pain and nausea to go away so that he could take another shower and try to pull the fractures of his life back together.
TWO
Little by little, Vin found he could move without igniting the nauseating pain in his guts. Little by little, taking most of his weight on his arms, he pushed and pulled himself to his feet, up the wall, on the edge of the tub, hanging onto the old iron towel bar, until he stood, weak and trembling and scared. He leaned his head back against the outdated wallpaper and tried to control his breathing. Get clean. He had to focus on what he needed to do. Get clean. Get dressed. If he let his mind run off on its own, he'd be lost.Across from him, the little metal medicine chest hung crooked, the mirror giving him only a distorted reflection around the spiderweb shatter, with hair and blood caught in the edges of glass. Vin held on to the towel bar with one hand, catching himself every ten seconds or so as his legs threatened to give out. The other hand held his bathrobe closed. If he let go of the towel bar to tie his robe, he'd fall.
The door to the bathroom was open, fading sunlight still filled the apartment and lit the small bathroom. Get clean. Get dressed. Lock door. Panic mobilized Vin's aching body. ...lock door lock door lock door... Still holding onto walls and kitchen chairs for support, he made his way determinedly, falteringly, out of the bathroom, across the tiny kitchen/dinette and into the front room to the front door. Expecting every second that the door would burst open to admit three ghastly, grinning spectres, Vin turned the little lock button on his door knob and slammed the bolt into its unaccustomed place. It still wasn't enough and he turned to get a kitchen chair to wedge under the door knob.
Bloody footprints had trailed him from the bathroom to the door.
Blindly, desperately, Vin made it back to the bathroom in time to retch his lunch into the toilet.
When the sun finally set, Vin was curled on the floor of the bathroom, eyes shut tight against the blood, pain, and memories, his mind reduced to one thought: Get clean. Get clean. Get clean.
+ + + + + + +
"What?" Chris Larabee demanded, sitting behind his desk. "What happened? When did they decide this?" He'd been getting ready to go home at the end of a particularly long day, and didn't appreciate being interrupted by anybody, much less the Assistant to the Dean with disagreeable news.
"Please Mr. Larabee, attempt to contain your ill-humor." Ezra Standish stood in front of the desk, grateful for the distance it kept between him and the irate head of security. "The younger Mr. James was arrested early today for DUI and despite all attempts by his uncle to secure his release, he is and will remain a guest of this county for the foreseeable future."
"So I'm supposed to take over his job?" Larabee was irritated. "What moron decided that heading up Security and heading up Environmental Services is the same thing? What are they trying to do? Save his job until he gets sprung? I don't care if his uncle is one of the biggest contributors to this University, Lucas James is trash and ought to be thrown out permanently."
"Yes, Mr. Larabee, I shall deliver your sentiments to the board on Monday morning. In meantime, I do believe it was the Chairman of said Board, Judge Travis, your father-in-law..." he pointed out unnecessarily. "...who requested you specifically for this post. I believe he feels you could amend whatever damage has been done to the department, and the University by the - shall we say, inconsistent - leadership Mr. James has given to the Environmental Services Department during his short tenure." Chris growled down in his throat and Ezra had to steel himself to not take one step further away from the desk. "You know Mr. Larabee, you aren't being thrown into this duty completely desolate. Mr. Dunne came up through the ranks of Maintenance to Security, did he not? You and Mr. Tanner are close friends as well. Surely they will be able to advise and implement any changes you deem necessary in the interim."
Chris stood up then and Ezra did take that step back. "You know what bothers me most about this Standish? You seem to be enjoying yourself way too much telling me about it...you sure it was Travis that suggested me? You sure somebody didn't put a bug in his ear?"
"Gracious, look at the time." Ezra quickly consulted his wrist watch. "And I promised Mother I'd take her to dinner tonight...well, Mr. Larabee, a treat as always...." He reached for his briefcase on the chair next to him and headed for the door.
"EZRA." Chris's stern voice caught him just as he was reaching for the knob. He took a breath and turned.
"Yes, Mr. Larabee...?"
Chris turned suddenly agreeable. "Dinner? Tomorrow night, my house? I'll get Vin and JD, maybe Buck. Get this mess sorted out? I don't want to let the Judge down. Don't want the rest of the Board to think having James back is a good thing."
Ezra smiled. "I'll be there."
+ + + + + + +
Vin watched the dark water swirl down the drain in his bathtub. He didn't know how long he stood under the pounding stream of hot water, washing away the blood and filth. He leaned against the shower wall, feeling the water sting his skin, and the injuries he didn't want to think of. Get clean. Get dressed. Get help. That last thought surprised him, then scared him. No help. Nobody knows. No help. He shut off the water then reached for one of the towels on the bar. Get dressed. No help. Get dressed. He got dry as fast as he could, then pulled his robe on, right side out, while he still stood in the tub. He looked down at the floor, trying to figure out how to get out of the bathroom without walking through the blood again. Before the sight of it made him gag again, Vin threw the towel down, completely covering the sticky mess.
It was still no easy task to get from the tub, out of the bathroom, and to his bedroom to get dressed. Despite all the hot water, he trembled from the exertion of keeping himself upright when all he wanted to do was collapse on the floor and die there. Using the towel bar, the sink, and the wall, he made it to the bathroom door and cracked it open. The rest of the apartment was in relative darkness, except for the light shining in from the lampost across the street, and out the bathroom door. Vin shut the door again, even as he told himself it was safe. He caught breath and walked the ten steps or so that took him into his bedroom.
The light switch was the first thing he reached for, even before his feet took him actually into his bedroom. Even though he'd tied the robe shut, he held it closed at his neck with one hand. He limped to his window, closed it and locked it before tugging the curtains shut, then pulled clothes out of his dresser.
He set himself down carefully on the bed to get dressed. The pain hadn't gone away, but it was at a point that he could bear. Getting dressed took longer than he wanted. His body didn't want to move and his mind whirled on with a dozen disturbing thoughts. Get dressed. He tried to bring his mind back into focus. Get dressed.
Then what?
Get help.
No.
Nobody knows.
Vin got dressed, all the way to sneakers on his feet. As he sat there, trying to figure out what to do next, his phone rang. The sound startled him and he waited for the machine to pick up, scared to hear who it might be.
"Hi Vin, it's Maria's Mom. Nettie said she thought you had to go in to work. Just wanted to let you know Maria's better. Her Dad got her to go to the fair a little while ago. We're both real grateful you were watching out for her today. You ever need anything you let us know Vin. Bye." She hung up and the artificial voice of the machine announced the time. He sat there awhile longer, reliving the moment he'd stepped in to save Maria, and took her back to her Mom. Reliving the moment he'd stepped out of the shower and....
He made it to the bathroom just in time again, only there was nothing to bring up, though his body tried hard enough. Vin rinsed his mouth then brushed his teeth again, leaving the toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink so he didn't have to touch the medicine chest ever again. He pushed his body back to his room and curled up on the bed. He left the light on.
THREE
Vin felt good. He'd mowed Nettie's lawn and Mrs. Millette's. In a few minutes, he'd be heading down to the festival and cotton candy. He felt good. Just as he pulled back the shower curtain, the world started spinning and...Vin's body jerked awake on the bed, and the sudden movement sent shock waves of pain up and down his spine. Still curled on his side, he clawed at his pillow, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. The pain went down his legs and arms, all the way down to his fingers and his heart pounded hard against his ribs.
Shit shit shit. The pain made tears come to his eyes and he couldn't catch his breath. The only thing he could do was hold on until the pain peaked, then gradually retreated to the middle of his back. When he could move again, he realized he had his face pressed into the pillow, and his breath sounded too much like crying. shit shit shit.
Finally, he could turn onto his back, but it didn't ease the knife of pain in his spine. What time was it? With the overhead light on, he couldn't see if it was daylight past the curtain at his little bedroom window and he was afraid to turn his head to read his clock radio, afraid it would set off the pain again. So he laid there awhile, desperately listening to the sounds in his apartment, and in the hallway beyond his front door. Quiet. No one moved, or talked, or made any kind of noise he could isolate. The middle of the night. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He didn't want to sleep. He had to stay awake, had to keep watch. Had to stay awake.
+ + + + + + +
Dawn found Vin sitting at the little table in his dinette. He had his arms folded around his waist, leaning forward, trying to stand the pain. His forehead almost pressed against the cold formica. What day was it? Did he have to go to work? What was he going to do? What was going to tell people? Nothing. Nothing happened. I fell. I hit my head. Nobody knows. Nothing happened. Nobody knows.
He couldn't help thinking how alone he really was now. He could never tell anybody. Nobody would want him around anymore if they ever found out. He had to carry this alone. Make up a story. I fell. I did fall. I hit my head. I did hit my head. Anything. Just to keep people close enough away that nobody would ever find out. He had to survive this alone.
So slowly he wasn't even aware that it was happening, his head rested on the table and he cried.
+ + + + + + +
The phone rang and startled Vin - but he knew better than to move in response to it. He let it ring and the machine picked up.
"Morning Vin - or should I call you 'sleepy head'?" Nettie on the other end. "It's just past nine, if you're awake, why don't you come over for breakfast? Missed you at the festival last night. Hope they didn't make you stay too late at work. Call me honey. If not breakfast, come on over for lunch...bye."
Vin pulled himself as upright as he could manage and rested his folded arms on the table. He was on his third pot of coffee for the morning. Trying to keep awake. Trying to give himself something to do other than remember. With the windows closed, the air in the apartment was stifling and drinking the coffee only made him hotter. But he drank it. And he didn't open the windows. Vin stayed at the little table and dranke coffee and sweated in his clothes and tried not to move too much so that he could forget for a little while the pain that burned in his guts and mangled his spine.
+ + + + + + +
When the phone rang again, the morning had crept along to almost noon. The coffee was making Vin sick but he couldn't bring himself to eat anything. He expected Nettie's voice again. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't even want to listen to her. She'd be the first person he'd have to lie to about what happened. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to get near her - he'd only make her dirty too. She wouldn't understand. She was such a tough lady, she wouldn't understand how he let this happen. Why he let it happen. He should've just let them kill him. It would've been so much easier. He'd be dead now and not trying to plan the deception that would be the rest of his life. Just be dead and nothing would matter.
Vin was so far into cataloguing his misery, that Chris's voice on the answering machine took him by surprise. "Vin - Chris. Got a situation at the school. Need you to come over and help me sort it out. Dinner, four o'clock. But come over anytime you want to before that. Mary's out with Billy until later, we could watch a movie or something."
The sound of Chris's voice hit a spot in Vin that could still be made to feel safe. He could tell Chris anything, and Chris would be over in an instant to help him. He didn't have to be alone. Chris wouldn't ask a lot of questions. He would just be there. Ignoring the pain, Vin pushed himself up from the chair and tried to get to the phone before Chris hung up. But he was a fraction of a second too late. He didn't bother picking up the phone and dialing. It seemed like a stupid idea now to tell Chris anything. But he didn't want to be alone and Chris had invited him over 'anytime'. So, moving slowly through the haze of pain, Vin got his keys off the shelf in the kitchen and walked slowly to the front door. His heart pounded hard again, thinking of opening that door and what might be out there. His hands shook as he threw the bolt back and turned the button on the knob. Even more slowly, he turned the knob and opened the door a crack.
Nothing, nobody was in the hall. He shut the door again. Then opened it again. Where was his truck? Around the corner. How fast could he get to it? As fast as he had to. The pain in his back transformed into needles of panic that held him in his apartment. Each step through the hallway, out the door, and down the street would be slow death. But he had to leave his apartment. He had to get to his truck. He had to go to Chris's house.
He had to.
FOUR
Walking out of his apartment and down the stairs was worse than death. The fear turned the pain in Vin's spine into fish hooks that attached him to his front door. He stood there a moment, staring at the door, wondering what they were thinking when they pried the lock and stole into his home, into his life. Did they know then what they were going to do to him? Or did it just occur to them when they found him - -.His hand closed around his keys hard enough to hurt and his body shook. It's not my fault. It wasn't like I was planning on them breaking in. It's not my fault. Please God let me just take back yesterday afternoon and you can take whatever else you want... Vin clung to the dark wooden banister that led from his apartment at the top of the stairs and took one step down. His right knee hurt - everything hurt - but the pain in his knee surprised him. He hadn't noticed it before. It hurt to bend his knee to make the stairs, but he did it. One stair at a time, every nerve in his body on alert for any sound, any movement. But no one and nothing stirred.
Opening the front door into the glaring noon day sun, Vin stopped a moment to remember where his truck was. He took a breath of the hot, motionless air. Everything looked different, an unfamiliar shade of familiar colors. Mechanical music fluttered past him from the festival and the streets were deserted. If he could just get to his truck, he'd be safe. If he could just get to his truck and get to Chris's house, he'd be safe. His feet in his sneakers felt heavy on the hot concrete, and the pain in his body made him walk slower and more stiffly than he wanted to. His truck was around behind the building, not far, but too far to suit him and the fear that sat on his shoulder, whispering lies into his ear. They were there, behind every door and window, waiting, watching. And the windows and doors they weren't behind hid the others, the people who would be able to tell just by looking at him that he'd been -
The sound of a gas lawn mower spinning to life startled him, sending the shock waves of pain rippling outward from his spine. He had to stop and rest one hand against the building to wait for it to subside. If anybody saw him now, they'd know. They'd just know. Just from looking at him. Would Chris know? Just from looking at him? Would he have to tell Chris anything or would he just know? Vin couldn't decide if he wanted Chris to ever know or not. Then why the hell was he driving himself to Chris's house?
When the pain eased, Vin straightened up and continued his slow hobble to his truck. He didn't see anyone, and hoped no one saw him. He almost expected his old blue Ford to have been vandalized - by them - but it sat just as he'd left it yesterday after work. Unlocking and opening the door was easy, getting into the truck was another matter entirely. Every muscle he needed to climb in - and some he'd never been aware were involved in the process - seemed to be in agony. He had to pull himself in painfully and slowly, and set himself carefully into the seat. He slammed the door shut and locked it, and relaxed - however minutely - for the first time since - since - -
Just say it stupid. Just say what it was they did to you. You can't even say it, can you? You can't even say what it was you let them do to you.
So then he whispered the word, gripping the steering wheel hard in both hands and staring at it till it blurred. He said the word and still couldn't believe that it applied to him. Yet there was no other word that came close to the pain and fear and humiliation he was smothering in now.
Maybe Chris would know just by looking at him and Vin wouldn't have to say a thing. And either Chris would be so disgusted he'd turn Vin right out of his house, or he'd be so concerned that he'd step right in and take over, giving Vin the chance to finally feel safe.
Either way, he'd know in twenty minutes.
+ + + + + + +
Chris lived in an old house on a few acres of land on the outskirts of the city. Vin drove slow, tense, minding the speed limit exactly, taking the turns cautiously. Everything was still that same strange hue and he didn't want to accidentally run a red light or run down some poor person on their way to the festival. Even so, he nearly went past the driveway and left a few inches of rubber on the black top when he screeched to a stop, belatedly looking in his mirror to see if it was safe. Since no one plowed into him, he guessed it was.
No car or truck sat in the driveway though; he'd come all this way and Chris wasn't home. He had to be back soon though. He'd be expecting Vin to call him back. He had to come home soon. Vin parked. He thought at first that he'd wait in his truck, but people driving past the house could see him - and if they could see him, he knew they could tell...he didn't want anybody looking at him. He opened the truck door and those same shrieking muscles opposed him getting out of the truck. But he swung his leg out and made his body follow, then shut the door and made his way to the deck at the back of the house.
He'd just set himself down, slowly, painfully, on the top step of the deck when Cowboy - Chris and Mary's over-exuberant but ever watchful black lab - roared up to the sliding glass window, barking for all he was worth at the intruder. Vin had been expecting it though and his body didn't react to the sound. He cradled his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Chris was supposed to be home, he was supposed to help Vin, tell him what he was supposed to do now that his life was over. Please Chris, come home. Please Chris. Vin's mind reverberated this. If Chris didn't come back - if Vin was left to sit out here alone and in pain, with an over-energized dog barking at him - he'd just shatter into a million million pieces. He could feel it starting around the edges of his vision and traveling down into his arms and legs and hands and feet. He'd come apart - literally come apart - and the pieces would never fit together exactly the way they'd been.
It seemed to take forever, but after a few minutes, a vehicle pulled into the driveway and Vin heard Chris call out for him. "Hey Vin! You around back?" But even if Vin had had the energy to answer him, he couldn't summon the words. "Hey, didn't you hear me?" Chris had followed his own voice into the yard. Then when Vin didn't answer, didn't lift his head, a more anxious question. "Vin - you okay?" Vin felt Chris sit next to him.
Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me. Vin prayed. If you touch me I'll come all apart and it'll never go back together...
"Vin?" and Chris did touch him when Vin still didn't answer. He laid his hand gently on the middle of Vin's back. Instead of shattering though, Vin felt himself held together by that touch. He raised his head to look at Chris and was devastated by the look of horror he saw in his friend's face.
He knows, he can tell, he doesn't want me around...
"What the hell happened to you?" Chris demanded.
"Nothing." Vin's first spoken word in how long? Twelve hours? Eighteen? His throat was dry and hoarse from throwing up.
"Nothing? Vin you got two black eyes and a busted nose. What the hell happened?"
Vin stared at Chris a minute, trying to understand what he was saying. He'd never gotten a good look at his face in the broken mirror, and he'd avoided looking at himself in the truck mirrors. When Vin didn't answer, Chris decided:
"I'm taking you to the hospital."
"Don't wanna go to the hospital," Vin mumbled, turning his head down to cover his mouth with his hand. "Wanna throw up." This took Chris by surprise.
"Right now? "
+ + + + + + +
Vin took his hand away long enough to snap " As soon as it's convenient. " Chris was on his feet in an instant, pulling Vin up by the arm and leading him to the glass sliding doors.
"Shut up Cowboy!" Chris shouted to the dog as he unlocked the doors and slammed them open. The lab was quiet but danced around them as Chris tried to gently - but quickly - guide Vin to the downstairs bathroom just off the kitchen. Vin let himself be guided, he kept his eyes closed as much as he could. It seemed to quiet the nausea. But once he was in the little half bath, and Chris raised the lid for him, he lost half of all the coffee he'd had that morning.
Chris stood close by, keeping Cowboy out of the way, actually frightened by the way Vin was throwing up. It came up violently, out his nose, splashing back onto Vin, as though some power greater than just his body's physical reactions had control of it. Vin choked and brought up more, till only bile came up, then nothing came up, and his body kept trying. Finally it stopped, but Vin didn't move off his knees in front of the toilet. He supported himself with both hands on the rim, panting deep short breaths that sounded like whimpers, shaking so hard Chris thought he must be in shock.
"Vin?" Chris crouched down to put his hand on Vin's back again. "I've got to get you to the hospital."
Vin didn't hear Chris. All he knew was that he was in a bathroom, on his knees, being sick, praying the pain would stop, and someone touched him. He swung out blindly at the touch, lost his balance and fell sideways. His back hit the wall and this time it wasn't a knife that went through his spine but an axe. Instead of fists, his fingers splayed backward in pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth but the air he needed for the scream he wanted to scream wasn't there. The pain just went on and on. Wave after wave, out his spine, down his arms, gradually lesser and lesser until finally he could take that breath of air, dragging the scream in with it.
When Vin was aware of his surroundings again, he saw that Chris had a grip on his arms, staring at him with a mixture of pure fear and concern. Vin still panted, afraid to move one muscle, tasting the coffee and bile as it burned in his esophagus.
"I'm taking you to the hospital," Chris said again, and Vin dared to shake his head.
"Take me to Nathan."
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