Any errors let me know and I'll try and fix them. ~~~~~~~ A boy of about 15 ran and turned a corner. Stopping as he rounded the corner he put his hands on his knees and breathed heavily as he leaned against the building. Sirens wailed about a street away. The boy pushed off of the building as the sirens seemed to disappear. He walked away breathing deeply. As he glanced to his left, flashing red and blue lights caught his attention. He stopped and turned around, as the flashing lights got closer and closer. Turning quickly he began to run again. His mind was racing, he had to get away from them but he didn’t know where to go. He ran and ran, zigzagging through the alleyways, completely out of breath. He was turning here and there, now completely lost. He dashed out the alley and skidded to a halt as a police car pulled up in front of him. “Stop right there,” yelled the cop, pulling out a gun and aiming it at the boy. The boy took off down the street towards crowds of people. He ran into the center of a crowd and disappeared. The cop stepped out of his car and walked over to the crowd. “Damn,” he complained as he looked down the alley and saw the boy take a left turn. “I need assistance. I had the suspect running down Maple Street, but I lost him,” he radioed in. “Roger that. Assistance is on the way,” replied the cop operator. The cop took off down the alley after the boy. The boy turned the corner on to Day Street, where he had started from and began to walk. As he stepped on the corner of the block, two cop cars boxed him in. One cop climbed out the driver’s door and the other out the passenger’s door. He stood there a moment breathing hard, then looking behind him and seeing the other cop, dashed to the tail end of a cop car and hopped over. One cop drew his gun and aimed it at the boys’ feet. The cop came out of the alley and stopped beside the other cop. “Don’t shoot him,” he said angrily. “I’m not, I’m gonna shot by his feet,” he said aiming at the street next to his feet and ahead of the boy some. “Go.” He shot the gun, hitting the street near the boys’ feet, causing him to stop and the other cop dashed out form behind the car. He ran catching up to the boy, but as he almost had him, the boy stepped to the side and took off down the street. The cop fired his gun again and hit the street behind the boy as the other cop took off on foot pursuit. The cop holstered his gun, climbed back in his car and took off down the street. Pulling up beside the boy, he slowly edged the boy closer to the building, and then turning the wheel, he slammed on the breaks and the kid hit the side of the car flipping over the hood and landing on the street on his back. The cop that was running ran up and around the car to the other side and knelt by the boy. “Good job, Bryan,” he said as he placed his hand on the boy’s forehead as the boy breathed out deeply and cupped his stomach, slightly rolling on his side. “Hey it worked, didn’t it Xavier?” Bryan replied. “Yeah, you almost killed him,” Xavier replied angrily. “Dyran,” he said looking at the boy, “why do you do this?” Dyran didn’t reply but slightly glared at him and sat up slowly and coughed. Xavier then stood and reached down, grabbing Dyran’s arm and pulling him up. “Oww,” Dyran whined as he was pulled up. “Why do you always run, Dyran?” Xavier asked again. “Why…do you chase me?” he asked angrily his short blonde hair falling in front of his blue eyes, his left hand still wrapped around his stomach. Xavier then smacked him upside the head. “Ow, what was that for?” He ripped his arm from Xavier’s hands and placed it at the back of his head. “Your arrogant, you little brat,” Xavier replied just as angrily. “That’s what it was for.” “I’m not arrogant,” he retorted. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the speech enough times to know it by now. ‘I just know how to have fun’, right?” He then grabbed Dyran’s upper arm and lead him to the back seat of the cruiser. “Exactly,” Dyran said, slightly smiling. Xavier eyed him darkly, then opened the car door and pushed him in. Closing the door he then walked over to Bryan and said, “One day he’s gonna get into real trouble.” “You guys are getting smarter,” Dyran said as Xavier walked him into the police station, handcuffs now about his wrists. “Oh, shut up,” retorted Xavier. “Hey Kyle, phone Dyran’s foster parents.” Dyran then jerked his arm out of Xavier’s grip and backed away. “Dyran what are you doing?” “Don’t call them,” Dyran answered, backing away slowly. “Why?” “Please don’t call them,” fear crept into his voice as he spoke. “Just let me stay here.” “Why, what are they doing to you Dyran?” Xavier replied, concern creeping into his voice as he walked to Dyran’s side and placed his hands on Dyran’s upper arms. Dyran stood there, his breathing quickening. “Dyran, what are they going to you?” He then turned Dyran to face him. Trying to slow his breathing, he looked up at Xavier and replied, “If I told you, they would beat me.” Dyran’s head then dropped to look at the floor as silent tears streamed down his golden toned cheeks. “Kyle, don’t make that call,” Xavier called over to Kyle who was half way through dialing the number. “Yes, Sir,” Kyle replied and hung the phone up. Xavier turned back to Dyran, who was still looking at the floor, silently crying and said, “You can stay here tonight, but tomorrow I’ve got to call them.” “Thanks Xavier,” Dyran said looking up at him, his cheeks still moist from his tears. “Yeah,” said Xavier leading him back to the back, “but now you got to tell me something. What are your foster parents doing to you?” Xavier quickly realized this question wasn’t going to be answered as Dyran had stopped walking. “If you don’t tell me, Dyran, then I can’t help you.” He turned to face Dyran. “If you tell me what they are doing then, if it’s serious enough, I could get you out.” “You can’t save me. No one can now,” Dyran answered as he started walking again. “Well if your not going to tell me, then I’m calling your foster parents and sending you home now.” Xavier had grabbed him and started dragging him back to the front of the station. “Xavier, please, no.” Dyran dropped to his knees to stop himself from moving. “Dyran, get up,” said Xavier jerking him up. He then looked at his face as he jerked him up and realized Dyran was crying as he stumbled to his feet. “Dyran you’ve got to tell me what they’re doing to you…” “I can’t,” cried Dyran as he cut Xavier’s words short. “They’ll…” He suddenly couldn’t find his voice and looked at the entrance to the station, his mouth slightly open. His foster parents were in the entrance doors and making their way towards Dyran as quickly as they could. Xavier followed his view, his light brown hair swishing around as he turned his head. His foster mom’s short form was taking quick steps as his foster dad’s tall form was taking slow, long strides. And at that moment Dyran wished he was in a cell in the back and had told everything to Xavier, for his foster mom reached up and smacked him with all the strength she could muster. He clenched his teeth together as his cheek burned with pain and turned a bright red; he started at the floor in front of him as his foster parents spoke with Xavier. “Thank you for catching him, Officer Carie,” said his dad as his mom glared at him. “I don’t understand why Dyran keeps running away and causing trouble.” “Well your welcome, Mr. Roger,” replied Xavier. “We’ll just pay his fine and take him,” replied Mr. Roger. “Oh, right,” he said as they walked over to the counter and Mr. Roger paid the fine and Xavier uncuffed Dyran. As soon as his wrists were free Mrs. Roger latched onto his wrist. Dyran was flung into the back seat and Mrs. Roger climbed in after him, slamming the door once she was in; his dad climbed in the front and drove off. “Run off, one more time, and we’ll beat you so hard you won’t be able to sit, or lay down,” threatened his mom, shaking her finger at him. “Yes Ma’am,” Dyran replied shakily, flinching as her fist came close to hitting him. “Kyle, I want a record of all offenses or abuses of Mr. and Mrs. Roger,” Xavier said once Mr. and Mrs. Roger where gone. “Yes, Sir,” said Kyle as he typed frantically at the computer, printing out Mr. and Mrs. Roger’s records. Xavier snatched the papers once they had printed and read them quickly. His jaw sagged slightly as though he had been punch. “How did they manage to adopt Dyran?” “Excuse me, Sir,” asked Kyle. “Listen: ‘Mrs. Debby Roger was accused of beating her 4 year old daughter, Christine Ann Roger, for spilling milk on the carpet. Mr. Joe Roger was accused the next year of beating their 6 year old daughter, Alice Ann Roger, for back talking.’ “Now how did they manage to trick the foster home and obtain Dyran,” Xavier questioned. “Maybe they cleared their record of offenses at the foster building?” Kyle replied thoughtfully. “Whatever they did, Dyran’s in trouble and he’s got to get out of that house now,” said Xavier. He shoved the papers at Kyle to throw away and marched for the door. “Where are you going, Sir?” “Back on duty.” A little sarcasm in his voice. “When Captain Lanning gets in, tell him to radio me.” Xavier walked out the door and hopped into his cruiser and drove off. “Until you can learn to behave, you can stay down there,” said Mr. Roger pushing Dyran down the basement steps. Dyran landed on the cold basement floor with a thud as Mr. Roger closed the door, falling unconscious. “Girl, get me a beer,” yelled Mr. Roger to their other slave child. She obeyed his command without question and snatched up a cold beer out of the fridge, popped the cap off, and handed it to him. He took the beer, gulped down a fourth of it, and flicked on the TV. “Yes, Carie, what did you need?” radioed Captain Lanning. Xavier snatched up the mic and spoke quickly. “I need a way to get Dyran out of his current home.” “Whoa, Carie, calm down. Why?” asked Lanning. “Cause Dyran’s living with two people who where suppose to never have kids at their home again,” Xavier answered, his voice becoming a little edgy. “I’ll see what I can do, Carie. Over and out.” “Thanks. Over and out.” Xavier put the mic back on its hook and drove around. Dyran’s head throbbed as he came to, and he could feel something cold and sticky on the side of his head, running from his temple. Dyran staggered to his feet in the pitch-black basement. His head felt like someone had tried to split it in half with an axe. He stumbled his way towards the doors that led outside and pushed up on them. They didn’t budge; Mr. Roger must have chained them on the outside. He stumbled back to the base of the stairs and climbed them slowly. Reaching the top he pressed his ear to the door. Hearing no one he removed his ear and slammed his fist on the door and yelled, “Please, let me out.” No reply. “Please. Let me out, please.” Still no reply. As he was about to slam his fist on the door again, he could hear footsteps and shuffling from upstairs and realized they must have been trying to sleep. He soon wished he hadn’t yelled when the light in the kitchen was flipped on and poured through the cracks along the door. The door was unlocked and swung open as Dyran took a few steps backwards down the steps. “You realize you just woke me up,” Mr. Roger snarled. “Sorry, Sir,” said Dyran still backing down the steps, gulping. “And you can’t have learned your lesson by now. Good night.” Mr. Roger slammed the door as Dyran raced up the steps and grabbed the handle, pushing, but he was too late. Mr. Roger had locked the door. “No,” yelled Dyran. “Please, Sir, let me out!” He slammed his free fist on the door. “You can’t keep me in here forever!” “Oh can’t I,” snarled Mr. Roger through the door. “Watch me.” He flicked off the light and strode back up the stairs. “Let me out!” Dyran yelled as loud as he could and slammed both fists on the door. “You bastard! Let me out. You can’t keep me in here forever.” He soon wished he hadn’t yelled that as foot steps stomped their way back down the stairs and kitchen again erupted in light. Dyran scampered down the steps as he heard the door unlock. The door flung open and slammed on the kitchen wall as Mr. Roger stepped in the doorway. “What did you say?” Mr. Roger stormed. He stomped down the stone steps as Dyran hid under the stairs. Mr. Roger slammed his feet on the cold earth that was the basement floor. “Where are you, you little prat?” Dyran sat under the steps, trying to control his breathing as Mr. Roger took a step to the right. He could hear Dyran’s uncontrolled breathing and looked down at the steps. Leaning slightly forward he spotted Dyran and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him out. “What did you say?” “I’m sorry,” whined Dyran. “I didn’t mean it.” “That doesn’t answer my question, you prat.” He tightened his grip on Dyran’s shirt, the neck hole becoming smaller. “I-I-I-I’m sorry,” said Dyran starting to cry. “I didn’t mean…” “What did you call me?” His grip tightening and his voice becoming edgy. Dyran stared at him a moment, wishing to be anywhere but her. He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He let a few tears fall down his cheeks then tried again. “A-a-a bastard,” Dyran chocked. “You never call me a bastard, you prat.” He then flung Dyran at the opposite wall, hitting it with a loud thud; his body slid down the wall and he looked up at Mr. Roger as he walked over. He leaned down and grabbed the front of Dyran’s shirt again and lifted him forward some. “You call me that again, boy, and you won’t be getting out of here, ever,” he snarled. He released Dyran’s shirt, his back hitting the wall hard. “Do you understand me?” Dyran nodded his head. “Do you understand me?” “Yes, Sir,” he replied weakly. “Good.” He leaned up and started back up the steps. “Tomorrow,” he said stopping halfway up the steps, “is gonna be hell for you.” Mr. Roger then walked out of the basement, locked the door, flicked off the kitchen light, and headed back to bed. Dyran rested his head against the wall as he heard the light footsteps of Mr. Roger stomp up the steps. “You’ve got to learn to control your mouth, Dyran,” he said scolding himself. “Captain Lanning, could you get me anything?” Xavier asked the next day as he walked in, ready for duty. “I got you a warrant to search the place and if anything indicates to Dyran being abused you can take him,” replied Lanning handing him the slip of paper. “But if I don’t find anything, then they’re gonna beat him for telling me,” replied Xavier. “That’s all I could get at the moment, but you bring me hard proof that they’re abusing Dyran and I’ll do everything in my power to get him out.” Xavier sighed at this, and then headed out for duty. ~~~~~~ Any errors let me know and I'll try and fix them. Tell me what ya think. I know it's really long and I have more, but it will take me a while to type them up. So enjoy this. Read and Review = more of the story