The stress of the weight on his chest made his pulse quicken and he forced his eyes open. He found himself staring straight up into Devan's face. His eyes looked around the room for the doctor or a nurse, but he was alone. Then he looked back at his stepfather and just waited.

The man just looked over him and said, "Didn't think it was going to be like this. Always thought you'd be yourself the next day."

He looked out the window and asked, "Did you or are you just trying to make waste of the time before you do what you came here to do?"

Devan shrugged and said, "I guess you're right. Besides, you've been in here for a month now. I'm surprised they haven't released you yet."

He rolled his eyes and said, "It's called recovery from accidents."

The man sat in the chair next to the bed and asked, "Is that what they think it is? Did you lie again? I thought you'd have ratted us out to that gal you brought home the first day of summer and she'd notify the authorities."

His eyes narrowed and he said, "Leave her out of this. She didn't do a thing wrong and didn't say a word."

Devan smirked and said, "Must have told her not to. Good boy."

Then he slapped his hand down onto the boy's chest and made everything tighten. His breath disappeared and yet he remained still. Devan nodded and stood. He grabbed his jacket and then he sent a blow to the boy's head. When it caused him to jerk back into the bed he winced.

Then the bastard left and he fought to regain control. The room was spinning violently and his stomach started to react. He looked around for an emergency switch, but he only failed. When he felt sickness rolling in he rolled off the bed. He thanked the man upstairs that he still wore his clothes as well.

Then his muscles started moving and he became ill. His throat tightened and he started coughing just to gather some breaths. It burned with every cough and he felt sweat starting to break out. When the final round stopped, he held himself up on his knees and hands while his body continued shaking. The door opened and he felt soft hands wrap around his stomach.

Then he closed his eyes and heard, "Damn it. I'm so sorry, Terry."

He felt some relief kick in as he listened to her voice and then she pulled him back onto her lap. His breath started to become stable again but his body still shook. The smell of the mess on the floor was starting to make him feel sick again and he rolled back onto all fours. When she touched his shoulder, some of the nausea went away and he found her cleaning up the mess. It was gone in another minute and then she knelt in front of him.

Her hair was unbound and rested at her shoulders. She wore a white shirt with a pair of black jean shorts. Her skin looked darker and he knew where she had been. Then he heard her talking and he forced himself to listen.

She looked off to the side and said, "I should've known this would happen when I saw him leaving the room."

He wanted to say something, but the movement only hurt his chest more. She slipped her arms back around his chest and helped him back onto the bed. Then she cleaned his hand and re-inserted the IV. As she retaped it down, he let his gaze fall on her soft hands working on his rough and burning skin. When she stopped, he looked up at her and she smirked.

She brushed a lock of blonde hair from her face and asked, "Feeling better now?"

He leaned back into the bed and said, "It's hell. What do you think?"

Her smirk became a smile and she said, "I just had to ask. Now, I should go get the doc and let him check you over to see what that idiot did to you."

When she stood, he snatched her wrist and said, "Just forget about it. I'll be fine."

Her eyes met his and she said, "Don't think you can change my mind. Those two foster parents have been abusing you and you need to get help or it will never get better."

He let her go and said, "You can get the doctor, but I won't help you any."

PGS