Teenage Troubles (Prequel for Teenage Baby)

Chapter 9 | The captors

Chapter 9 | The captors

Six-year-old Lou threw up for the third time this night. And Dom groaned for the third time too.

  He took a deep breath as he pulled Lou's pajama that he'd stained with his own sick off his torso and threw it aside. The stench tormented his nose he but wouldn't nag because Lou certainly wasn't enjoying any of this either. When Dom washed Lou's hands and face, he led him back to the bed and perched himself on the edge, one hand absently stroking his hair. He let his head fall back against the headboard. His lashes finally collided.

  Maybe Dom had unawarely slept through it or something but he suddenly realized that Lou's fringe was getting wet under his fingers. His eyes yanked open and he quickly leant forwards. Lou was sweating. A lot. As soon as Dom brushed the back of his hand across his forehead, he frowned and cursed under his breath. The boy'd been burning up.

  "Lou?" Dom didn't even know what he was expecting for an answer. Not that he quite needed one. His instinct told him to take the clean pajama off Lou and he obeyed because he wasn't an expert and he needed anything to guide him into action. "Oh shit," he mumbled as he took in how his sides and torso were soaked with sweat.

  Dom jumped off the edge and bolted into the corridor, hesitating for a split second at the threshold before proceeding to his dad's bedroom. "Dad." He shook his shoulder. No response. The next shake was a bit more violent and it managed to rouse his father. George looked at Dom through sleep-blurred eyes. "Dad, wake up. Lou-"

Curses. A whole bunch of them. Dom prepared himself to get yelled at. His dad propped himself on an elbow and rubbed his eyes then grumbled, "What? Why in the world would you wake me up?"

  Dom looked away for a second, pursing his lips. His temples already started throbbing. "For fun. I just like to wake you up like that at midnight and I absolutely love listening to you yell at me. What do you think?"

"Just spit it out!"

"Lou's sick. He has really high fever. He threw up like three times already. We need to take him to the doctor."

George groaned, long and heavy. Dom watched. The reaction almost made it seem like he wouldn't bother do anything but soon enough his father was sitting, legs thrown down the edge of the bed. A sigh lifted Dom's chest. He knew he'd been about to get violent if he wouldn't wake up.

"Go get him ready. I'm waiting in the car. Hurry, I don't wanna wait."

  So Dom did. He woke Lou up, put him in new clothes and led him down the staircase. He climbed into the car, keeping Lou on his lap. Lou leant against him with his chest heaving and his eyelids drooping. Dom tried to keep his maternal type of anxiety under control. He was worried harder than he'd ever been but he pretended that he wasn't--possibly what his life was all about. Acting and pretending because reputation meant painting faults in glitter and gold. Under the glory lay the filth, always.

By the time they made it to the doctor's, Dom's jacket was doused in another large splotch of puke and Lou's fever was rocketing even more. The sharp swerve his dad made into the parking lot almost made Dom himself throw up.

"Where in the world does this shit keep raining on me from?"

  Dom'd been in the middle of helping Lou down the car. He stopped. Turned his neck and gazed at his dad hard. "Didn't you know that having a little child meant this kind of shit happens? Never heard of kids getting sick?"

"I knew. Doesn't mean I like to deal with it."

Dom grimaced. "I'm the one who dealt with it. You were asleep. I couldn't even sleep for two minutes. I had to clean his puke and change his bedsheets three time--"