Shattered

Rescue

Hours had passed and Jonathan hadn't seen nor heard anything of Mayson. The streets were empty this time of night. Or early morning depending on your view.

Jonathan walked the streets in search. In memory. He looked around at his surroundings and laughed as tears spilled quietly from his eyes.

He walked over and sat down on one of the three swings. The middle one. He remembered a time that seemed so long ago when he and Mayson would play here at this park. Mayson would push him on this very swing. If Jonathan closed his eyes he could almost imagine he could hear him laughing, feel the pressure of those hands on his waist as he caught and pushed him higher.

He kicked his feet dejectedly in the dirt and sighed.

"Goddamn it, Mayson..." He sniffled and sighed, wiped his eyes, and gripped his hair tightly to keep himself from screaming.

Before he knew what he was doing he was up on his feet and running west. He didn't stop, he didn't slow. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was glad for all the hours he spent running in school. His breathing echoed through his ears and his heart pounded with every footfall.

He rounded the last corner and sped up as he approached the house Mayson and Lucius shared. As he came to the front door he heard a crash and a scream. Without stopping he burst through the door, wood splintering forward as the deadbolt shattered the door frame.

What he saw boiled his blood. Lucius halted his movements and smiled menacingly.

His eyes were a cold blue. Evil eyes that would intimidate a lesser man.

"Ah, Jonathan. Come to join in the fun? He's got another round in him, I think." He laughed and pulled out of Mayson before tucking himself back into his jeans.

"Get the fuck away from him, Lucius, or I swear I'll fucking kill you," Jonathan growled out between clenched teeth, his fists tightening into weapons.

Lucius glanced at Jonathan's fists in disquieted foreboding. He'd heard stories about Jonathan Carson. There was a reason he'd kept Mayson away from him for the last eight months.

Mayson moaned in pain and rolled off the back of the couch with a loud thump as he crumpled to the floor. With the momentary distraction, Lucius lunged, connecting his large fist to Jonathan's face. He got a couple more hits before losing his upper hand.

Lucius screamed as pain shot through his shoulder and down his arm. There was a split second of confusion as to why Jonathan was no longer in view, and what that ripping sensation in his arm was. Then the ripping was replaced by white fire as he heard and felt his shoulder, elbow, and wrist snap. Then all went black.

Once Jonathan realized his opponent was unconscious, his vision cleared and his focus switched to the man lying a few feet away.

"Mayson!" He smoothed his hair from his face, careful to avoid fresh abrasions. "Mayson, can you hear me?"

Mayson moaned, his head lobbing to the side.

"Alright, listen, baby, I'm gonna pick you up and get you to your car and we're going to the hospital. You're going to be fine, Mace, okay, just hang on, love." Please be okay he pleaded silently.

He felt a warm pressure pressing against his forearm. There was a rhythmic beeping somewhere in the background, faint yet becoming louder as the haze lifted.

He felt tired and sore. His whole body hurt. Then like a levee giving way with the pressure of too much water, previous events came rushing back, flooding his memory within painful reminders of how big a failure he really was. Suddenly the warmth was gone from his arm to be replaced by soothing fingers in his hair.