The Runaway Boy

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

TOMMY WOKE DAZED and confused. He couldn't recall how long the beating had gone on for, only the final kick and the sound of a glass bottle shattering near his head on the concrete. He didn't think his face was too bad, he could feel a cut above his eyebrow, the scarlet blood flowing into his eyes. He knew that there would be bruises though, his skin pulled tightly and painfully, especially over his left eye socket where that elbow landed.

It was his body that was damaged almost beyond the point of movement. He needed to check how bad his body was bruised and whether it was internal bleeding or just surface bruises, but those idiots had dragged him to the shop and thrown him down in front of it like some sort of martyr strung up for the Hartford siblings to see. The sun had already risen by the time he woke up, and he knew that he was in no condition to run home and hide for the next few days until the bruises faded so the others wouldn't see him like this.

It was this that he was used to, the pain of a beaten body, testing out what parts of it were the most damaged and what parts were okay. He was almost okay with this, it was a reminder that it wasn't only his brother that was capable of hurting him like this. He was angrier than he was targeted because of the rivalry those people had with the Hartford's, most of all the Hartford he disliked the most. He didn't need to be dragged into their s**t just because he was affiliated with them, and he was more curious about what happened between Mason and those assholes to make them taunt him for a week then beat him to a pulp in the middle of the night. That's something he would figure out, but right now, he needed to get off the street before someone saw him and called the police.

He rested his head back against the cold metal of the garage door and begun softly probing at his chest with his shaking fingers, trying to locate the worse of the damage. There was no bloating, a couple of hematomas around his ribs which probably meant that more than one was broken. His leg was extraordinarily sore, but there were no breaks, and it was his eye that was the worst of it he guessed. His knuckles were also pretty cut up from the few punches he managed to get in, and he let out a sobbed laugh when he remembered breaking the first asshole's nose.

"Tommy?!" Sasha shouted, sprinting down the path towards him. She skidded to a stop in front of him, crouching down between his spread legs.

"Jesus Christ, those assholes," she spat venomously, her expression hard with concern as she extended her hand to his face, hovering it just over his left temple.

"I'm okay," Tommy exclaimed, he cringed at the way his voice came out hoarse and cracked as though he had been screaming.

"You are not okay! Your eye looks really bad," she directed her frustration on him, he realized then that he never wanted to be on Sasha Hartford's wrong side, he was sure she would be scarier than any of her brothers.

"I told Mason they would target you," she muttered under her breath as she looked over the rest of the injuries on his face, her eyes always flickering back to his bad eye that now thinking about it, was very blurry.

"I don't care, can you just help me in, so the police don't get called on me." Sasha looked at him like she was about to throw a punch too.

"I'm not moving you, we will wait for the boys to get here, so I don't drop you, then we will call the police, and you'll report them," She instructed, her voice unwavering of its authority. Tommy's stomach bottomed out at that, her expression turning just as dangerous as his.

"We are not calling the police."

"Tommy you were beaten up, you need to—,"

"I said, no!" He shouted, wincing at the burning pain coursing through his broken ribs. His breaths became heaved and broken as he clutched his side, doubling over as nausea threatened to tear him apart. Sasha watched him cautiously before carefully placing a hand on his shoulder, light enough not to make him flinch like she obviously expected him to do.

"Okay, we will talk about it later," her voice turned soft but as cautious as her expression. "Here they are," She added only a few seconds later and Tommy pushed himself back up to see the two cars pull up in front of the shop.

He'd never seen Nicky or Harry look so serious before. Soon enough, all of them were either crouched or standing around him. Tommy looked at all of them as they all talked at the same time, Sasha arguing with a silent Mason about something it seemed they had already talked about while Mason just stared past his sister and straight at him. Nicky and Harry asking if he was okay repeatedly, not touching him but coming close. It was Christian, though, his uncle who was looking at him with the question in his eyes. Was it him? Tommy shook his head in response, and Christian gave a short twitch in a nod.

"I told you Sam would go after him, and you didn't listen! None of you f*****g listened to me! This is your fault Mason," Sasha's last words seemed to cut into Mason, and he snapped from whatever deeper thought he was in.

"Sasha, enough, I'll sort it out," Mason's tone was all calm, but hard at the same time, the only giveaway that he was the least bit angry about this was how his fingers gripped his biceps tightly from where his arms were crossed over his chest.

"Just get me the f**k inside," Tommy shouted through the erratic talking and bickering. They all stopped instantly and stared at him.

"Tommy, you need to go to a hospital or a doctor at least," Nicky broke the few seconds of silence that had seemed to stretch on for far too long.

"No, I don't need to go to a hospital, it's not bad enough, I think it's just a couple broken ribs and my eye," Tommy explained in a much calmer voice as before, prodding carefully at his ribs again. 

"Are you insane? Tommy you—," Harry attempted this time but instantly stopped when Tommy returned it with a glare, his upper lip almost curling up over his teeth in a snarl.

"I'm in this mess because of whatever stupid rivalry your darling brother has with a bunch of heavy fisted oafs, so if I say no hospital or no police, then, no hospital and no police." They stopped and blinked at him in shock, Christian had his eyes fixed on the blood that was sweeping through his shirt just above his hip.

Mason came towards him first, but Tommy shook his head, he didn't want to be angry at him for this, but he couldn't help it. He was livid, and he was beaten because of him because of his stupid rivalry with some losers that have nothing better to do with their small-town lives then beat someone up in such a cowardly way. Tommy didn't even have a solid chance in a 1 against 4 fight.

"Don't touch me, this is your problem to fix so go fix it," Tommy tried to sound firm and unbreakable, but the reality was he was about to split down the middle. The pain in his body was dredging up old memories, ones like his dream that had him out running last night.

Mason nodded and took a step back, recrossing his arms as Christian and Sasha came to his aid. Harry stood in front of Tommy with his hands extended as if prepared to catch his inevitable fall. Tommy gritted his teeth as he lifted his arms high enough that Christian and Sasha could get underneath them. Just from doing that he could feel his body going into shock from the pain, his eyes blurred and his ears rang too loud to hear much else. His breathing was raged enough before, but now he felt as though he was choking on the air, suddenly thick and strangled.

"Tommy, hey, asshole, you don't want to go to the hospital? Then eyes forward and stay awake," Tommy could hear the concern in Harry's voice but couldn't help but grin at his wit. He glanced up at him as he saw Harry with that stupid cunning smirk. "Atta-boy."

Tommy glanced at Mason who was looking down the street towards the pub, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. Nicky was watching him carefully, maybe even a bit nervous. It was as if he was expecting Mason to run down there and take them all on himself. He concentrated on the side of Mason's face as the other pushed up from the ground. Tommy couldn't help the strangled sound the escaped his clenched teeth as his torso burned from the inside out, his ribs settling and cracking back into place.

He huffed for breath, leaning his head against Christian's temple, his feet planting underneath him. He felt terrible for it, but he wanted his uncle to know what leaving him with his family really looked like. This beating looked worse than it was, so at least there would be some resemblance to the states his brother and his lackeys left him in. For that, he felt terrible, but he also hated himself for still having compassion for Christian after he left.

"This, this is nothing, nothing compared to—," Tommy ground out, his voice broken.

"I know, Tommy, I know," Christian interrupted him before he could even speak Jonathan's name, because if he did, then it was game-over, the others would know who he was. Maybe he didn't really care if they knew, but he didn't trust them enough, his mere existence was dangerous to be around. If they knew, they could save their own asses and contact Jonathan, it had happened before, and Tommy wouldn't let it happen again.

"But you don't," Tommy choked, garnering the attention of Mason who he hadn't realized he was still staring at.

Silence fell, and Sasha and Christian helped him into the garage, Harry opening and holding the doors for them to go through and Nicky and Mason moving on through behind them. They managed to get him into Christian's office and lower him onto the couch, Sasha crouching down in front of him with a hand still on his shoulder as if afraid he would fall. Mason can in shortly after with a first aid kit putting it down on the floor next to Sasha — standing over Tommy with a look in his eye that he couldn't quite distinguish between pity or frustration.

"I'm fine, I can do it," Tommy tried to lean forward to grab for the first aid kit, but Sasha smacked his hand away.

"Tommy I need to look at where that blood is coming from under your hoodie," she said, completely ignoring his command.

"No."

"Would you stop being stubborn, she's trying to help," Mason exclaimed tediously, looking instead over his shoulder at Christian for back — who of which was now leaning against his desk watching this all unfold.

"I said no, I know where the blood is coming from, it's not serious," Tommy forced the words out, but his head was throbbing, and nausea was starting to kick in. It was a lie too, he didn't know how bad or how he got whatever wound that was making him bleed like that, but he wasn't going to let them see.

"I think you and our idea of severity are completely different," Nicky said, no humour whatsoever in his voice.

"Tommy, we won't judge you, we just want to help," Sasha said in that soft tone that Tommy found hard to resist. He flicked his gaze up to Christian who was looking right back at him with that look that said he wasn't going to be on Tommy's side for this one. He knew why Christian wanted him to trust them as he did. Christian wanted him to stay and put up a fight against his brother. Tommy didn't know if he could manage that. If he could really trust these people that he had only known for just over a week.

"I don't want to talk about it so don't ask anything, and don't touch them, please..." Tommy's words came out choked, the memories of his tormented past flickering behind his eyes at just the idea of other people looking at his scars. He looked around the room and waited for them all to nod in agreement.

"Okay, you tell me where I can touch, and say if it's too much and we will take a break..." Sasha explained, all Tommy could do was nod. Relief of her understanding hardly seeped through under the anxiety of being touched over his scars. It's a trigger, and he doesn't want to blackout into a panic like he's done before because of it.

Tommy gripped the neckline of his hoodie and attempted to pull it up himself, but lifting his arms above his head sent burning searing pain coursing through his beaten body. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force the trembling to cease. But it wouldn't, and as the adrenaline and shock started to seep away, he felt the fear crack him down the middle. He wanted to trust them, he desperately wanted to have his uncle back too, but he had let himself trust before, and every time he was hurt by it.

"Tom, look at me," Christian sounded a lot closer now. Tommy hadn't realized that he had his hand over his eyes until he felt Christian tap the top of it with his index finger like he used to when he was younger.

Tommy remembered when he was just 5 years old, and they were celebrating Christian's 22nd birthday — his father had scolded him for not tucking in his undershirt to his trousers properly. His father had said that even though he was the second son, he had to appear as though he wasn't as useless as he was. He had run away and cried under one of the kitchen benches. Christian, of course, came to find him. Tommy had always covered his eyes when he was about to or was crying, and Christian had tapped his hand until he took his hands away. Feeling it again made his heart shatter.

Tommy took his shaking hand away and stared back at his uncle who was looking at him in the same way he always had, with that worried look in his eyes. He never told him he wasn't good enough. Never scold him for laughing or smiling. Never hurt him. He would take him out for ice cream or to the park. He would let him sleep in his bed if he was scared of the dark. He taught him how an engine works. He was his first friend, his brother, his father. Christian used to be the type of person Tommy wanted to be. He never looked up to his father or brother, he always looked up to Christian. Until he was gone.

"I know you can't trust us, especially me... and I promise you that I'll never make that mistake again but trust that they have kept me hidden for 5 years, I know you've been through hell, especially after I left and I'm so sorry, but please let us help you," Christian's words hurt more than any knife or burn and he didn't have to look up to see the others figuring out who he is, that his bullshit story was utterly fabricated.

"I'm not a kid anymore, you can't tell me things like that and expect me to believe a single word you say," Tommy said hoarsely.

"I tried to go back for you, I did... you know that you were more a brother to me than my own brother was — but your father said you belonged to Jonathan now and if I came back then they wouldn't let me go again. I was so selfish, but not a day has gone by where I haven't thought about you, I wish I had fought for you more. So I'm sorry that now they know who you really are, but this is the way that I fight for you to stay," Tommy searched Christian's eyes for the truth, desperate to latch on to the thread of trust that was always fusing and snapping. His eyes were so sincere, but Tommy knew that they had always been like that which still made it difficult to hold on.

"He's telling the truth, Tommy. There were so many times over the years where we had to talk him out of going back for you, so don't blame him," Mason cut in, it took Tommy so off guard that he physically flinched at the softness in his tone, something that he hadn't heard from him before. Tommy stared back at him in shock, his vision was blurry but clear enough to see Mason just behind Sasha, looking down with not a look of pity but that same look of understanding he had when he saw Tommy's condition that one morning.

"Let us help you, please Tommy," Sasha added, taking his trembling hand softly in hers. Christian was now chewing on his bottom lip as he usually did when he was hurt and trying not to show it.

"Why? You don't even know me? You can't be that naive to think he won't kill you for hiding me? Christian, you remember your high school friend Matt Walters right? He hid me for a while, and I came back to the house to find his throat slit, what about... oh the Gleason family were killed too, their house set on fire with me inside, trying to smoke me out like a pest," Tommy was instantly hit with a belt of nausea and was only saved by the bucket that Nicky slips onto his lap. He let out havoc of hiccuped laughs that slowly turned into sobs. He was ridiculously stupid, crying like this in front of people he didn't know after being beaten to a pulp by more people he didn't know.

"Don't be so stupid to think you are helping me when all that will help me is knowing that the people around me aren't dead because of me," Tommy whispered, wiping his mouth off with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Did you ever stop to think why we would want you with us? It's not because we particularly like your attitude problem," Mason practically spat the words as if it was battery acid burning through his mouth. Tommy looks back at him in confusion, waiting for the elaboration he was bound to get.

"Your brother had our father killed, and I personally would rather that bastard not get what he wants most — and that seems to be you. So, here's what's going to happen, you are going to shut it. You are going to let us treat your injuries because you refuse to go to the hospital. You'll rest here until I drive you home at the end of the day. You'll stay in Winchester and work at the shop. And you won't run. Do you understand?" Mason finished, his eyes not once leaving that of Tommy's gaze.

Sasha squeezes his hand softly, and he realizes that he has no more energy to fight it. That deep down, he knows he truly wants to find a place and never run from it. Despite Winchester already causing him enough motive to run again — he wanted to stay. He was so selfish for it, but it's what he wanted. What he needed more than anything. Tommy was so exhausted of running, ravaged by a past that sent him into constant states of either panic, paranoia or depression. And he wanted that to end.

"Can you help with my jersey?" Tommy said cautiously, his eyes flickering back up to Mason, as if out of instinct.

Mason looked unflinching by how the question directed itself to him, but he gave a quick quirk of his head in a nod and stepped forward. He seemed to get it before anyone else that this was Tommy complying with his shopping list of orders. Sasha let go of his hand and shuffled out of the way to make room for Mason as he knelt down in front of Tommy, taking the bucket from his lap, putting it on the ground instead.

Tommy knew that the others were thinking whatever he was hiding under his long sleeves must be bad, that they might even be preparing themselves for it, mainly because he was so defensive before. But he also knew that their preparation wouldn't be enough, not when he felt revolted and scared of himself if he caught a glimpse of his torso and arms in the mirror after a shower. Now he was facing a bloodied and bruised version of it, something that would send him plummeting into his trauma without him even being able to control it.

"Rest your arms on my shoulders, so you don't have to hold them up," Mason exclaimed, his hands tugging lightly at the hem of Tommy's hoodie.

Tommy did as he said, Mason, helping to get his arms up that far. Mason leaned in closer to get a better grip on his clothing, his cheek brushing against his own. Tommy almost felt like he could relax like this, with Mason this close to him, his warm, steady breath against the side of his neck. Tommy didn't get it, Mason had been nothing but distant to him since they first met, yet he was the one to convince Tommy the most. Maybe it was that understanding in his eyes whenever he so obviously picked up on what made Tommy flinch, which made him uncomfortable. It was as if Mason — without knowing the reason behind it, could see Tommy mentally struggling to swallow down his past from wreaking havoc on his present.

The comfortability disappeared when Mason pulled his hoodie and shirt up, carefully maneuvering it over his head and shoulders and off his arms. It was his arms that he had purposely kept hidden from Christian when he first showed him. Despite showing Christian his scarred body in an attempt to hurt him — he didn't think he could stand the look of pity that would be on his face as was on all of theirs right now. His arms were covered in crisscrossing thin scars from the blades Jonathan pressed into his skin, it wasn't those ones that looked bad.

It was the rigid scars that sliced from his wrist up to the insides of his elbows. Jonathan wanted everyone to think he did it himself so that he would forever be seen as 'weak' and 'breakable'. They were made to break him down under the eyes of anyone he let see. His chest had various thick strips of burn marks from the fire poker, through inside those burns were the cuts too. Some scars were much more gruesome than others, scars merely thin enough that at the time Tommy was relieved to feel that little amount of pain than what he knew was coming.

Tommy looked down at himself and sucked in a deep breath through his clenched teeth—hissing at the sight. He was bruising badly, and it just made the milky silver scars that sat on top of those bruises more pronounced. His ears began to ring, and black spots contoured the corners of his eyes, he forced his eyes to keep moving, finding the source of the blood above his hip. He wouldn't have cared as much to have another scar because sooner or later it would fade into the rest, but this... This had him feeling so heated with disgust and anger that he instantly started scanning the room for something that he could use to burn it off or cut it out.

"Who is he?" Tommy murmured under his breath, his eyes returning back to the mark.

"Samuel Morgan, he's a nobody," Nicky was the first one to be able to get their voice back and speak again.

"Why this then?" Tommy dragged his thumb over the top of the open flesh, looking up for answers just to see everybody but Mason and Christian wince at his action which should've garnered more of a painful reaction on his part than theirs.

"He's apart of a small gang from a few of the small towns around here, they all work in the mine. We don't like each other, he did that to get under my skin because you are one of us, but he only does it if you piss him off enough but knowing your smart mouth I'm sure it wasn't hard for you to achieve that," Mason explained, his voice in complete monotone. His eyes washed over Tommy, not even being considerate of his privacy, seemingly more curious by it.

"We can talk about this later, I need to clean that before it gets infected," Sasha cuts in, obviously extremely mad by the mark. "Where can I start?"

"Please don't touch below the waist or above the lower ribs. Can you cover that after your done?" He asked, looking down at her and for the first time, she looked at him with something that resembled the way Mason did when he understood the boundaries that were Tommy. She smiled softly at him and nodded.

She got to work and kept going despite his flinches from either pain or discomfort. The others stayed in the room and watched, either because they couldn't look away or because they knew that for some reason that he couldn't begin to grasp — it was the first time he felt somewhat comfortable around people who could see all of his secrets. Mason sat on the couch next to Tommy and cleaned out his eye with saline, apparently the whole white of his eye was now blood red, and he had a slit through his eyebrow that Mason sutured closed because he knew how.

People were actually taking care of him in a way that had never happened before, and he didn't know how he felt about it. But he thought that maybe it felt good.