DarkStar

7

 His head swam as he fought against the darkness. Slowly, so slowly he became aware of little things. His body lay on something hard, a table, perhaps the floor. The air was chilled. There was a ringing in his ears... wait, that was wrong. It was screaming.

His mouth was dry and he tried to lick his lips. Why did he feel so sluggish? How had he come to be laying against the hardness that was beneath him. It sounded like there were so many people in the room. Was he laying in the road? Had he been at the park again? This was worse than the last time. Usually they only hit him. It wasn't like this where they knocked him unconscious. Something was wrong. Why couldn't he make his limbs work. His mom would be worried. Usually she would call for him. Maybe she was and he couldn't hear it over the screaming. What were they saying. He recalled the last thing he had heard. He had been at the treeline and it was night time. He had heard them, the voices as soft as the wind, soothing, calming. Run! Now they were screaming, muffled, as though they were restrained by a force, unable to break through.

"You are so beautiful, little one. Can you open your eyes? I know you can hear me."

Elia's brow furrowed. He didn't know that voice. It had been quiet compared to the screaming but he had heard it anyway. He didn't want to be with this person. He didn't know who they were. Why was it so quiet and so loud all at once? He wanted to run but his legs wouldn't move. He wanted to sit up, to crawl away but his body had betrayed him and lay still upon the hardness beneath him. He took a shuddering breath, the only thing that he could do. Breathe. He tried to hear one voice in the screaming. He tried to hear anything of what they said. Bad place! Bad place! Pain! Hurts! Get up! Get up Elia!

It came clear just before he felt hands upon him and the screaming became a ringing in his ears. All that they did was brush his hair from his face. He felt eyes upon him. He tried to speak but could only manage a small sound of distress. Why did he feel like this? Why couldn't he move? His heart began to race as he felt the hands shift.

"How old are you, my sweet? You can't be more than twelve. You're perfect. Will you open your eyes like a good girl? I want to see the color. It's okay honey. You won't feel a thing and it will all be over soon."

He couldn't help himself. He was not a girl! He was nearly fourteen! He wanted to move! He wanted to run to where the voices were. He wanted to say the name of the one who would make this all go away, but his mouth refused to do anything so all he could do was whimper. The man before him was pale, too pale, with a curtain of hair that fell like cobwebs, a mix of blond and white, into his eyes. His shirt was untucked, unbuttoned, his pants were open, and in that instant Elia wished he'd never opened his eyes at all. Why would someone like that expose himself to a child... unless...

"There's my good girl. You really are the most beautiful one that I have found yet. Don't worry. I told you it won't hurt and I meant it. None of the others ever complained, but then again, I'm not really sure how this stuff all works so maybe you will feel it and just won't be able to do anything about it. I'll be the last thing you feel. Won't that be nice?"

Elia wanted to shake his head no. All he could do was breath as a growing constriction gripped his chest and his breaths became ragged. He wanted to change. If he was a wolf he could run, run far away from everything. He could run until there was nothing left of him and he could be free. He could hear his pulse drumming in his ears. He desperately searched the room looking for anything that could help him, anyone. Branches scraped across the window. Branches that turned into screams as gruff hands began to fumble with his clothes.

* * *

He had to school his expression as he walked back into the room. The wheelchair caught the attention of the nurse as one of its wheels hit the doorframe when the detective hastily entered. She had just finished pulling his pants on and startled, dropping the shirt she'd picked on the floor. He was handing it to her just as she fumbled to balance Elia so that she could reach it. His slight body nearly slipped from her grip and she let out a little eep as she steadied him. Gently the detective helped, pulling long dark hair out from the collar and settling it about Elia's shoulders. Once he was sure that the shirt was pulled down around the body that was warm, but nearly lifeless, he cradled him with one arm while wrapping the blanket about him before lifting him into the wheelchair. Without a second thought he had grabbed the socks that had been beside where Elia sat, and the shoes so he could finish dressing him. This was the first time he would see him in actual clothes. It had always been too thin hospital gowns... or his own blood. The detective took a shaking breath.

"Do you have any kids, sir?" The woman's voice was soft but he still spooked. He hadn't even realised that she was still there.

"No. None to speak of."

"I thought, when I first started, that he was your son. You treat him the way that a parent would treat one of their kids. One of the other nurses told me the story of how he came to be here and how old he is. I still can't believe it. Now it looks like you could be his grandfather and he's still, just the same as he was. Has it really been fifty years?"

The detective looked up with such a tortured expression that she visibly bit her tongue and gasped.

"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have said anything. You're just, very good with him. You are the most caring person that comes here." She offered him a smile and turned, leaving them alone.

Had it really been that long? He knew it had even as some part of him didn't want to believe. He sighed as he carefully checked how Elia was in the chair. His eyes were open. He looked so sad. The detective stretched and smoothed his thumb around Elia's face, wishing to offer him comfort.

"It's okay, Elia. We're going to the woods today. You will feel better, I just know it. Maybe soon... soon you will talk with me. I just want to tell you that nothing can hurt you now. I fixed everything. There's no more pain. I found them, I found all the other children and now they have peace. I just... I wish I knew that you could hear me. I tried Elia, I tried."

His hands wrapped around the handles of the wheelchair and he careful maneuvered them through the door and into the hallway. Before going any further, he grabbed another blanket which he settled about Elia's shoulders and then across his lap. He almost looked like a normal little boy, not one who had been through what he had been through, not one who should have grown into a man and known life and love, not pain. The detective took a deep breath before he began to walk them towards the door, to the yard, and further to the trees that grew beyond.

* * *