Open Case File [COMPLETED]

Facing Facts

Why? Do I ever need a reason?

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As the elevator doors dinged open, Donovan hoisted the last load of wood onto his shoulder and stepped out into the hallway. After eight trips from the lobby to his apartment carrying the thick planks, his shoulder was aching. As he pasted by Link's apartment, the door opened and twelve-year-old Link watched as Donovan walked by, neither of them saying a word.

Donovan nudged his apartment door open with his foot and hauled his load into his room, dropping with a loud bang onto the other pile of boards. Moving to his tool bag - sitting on his bed, he removed a measuring tape and a pencil and began making marks on the wall. He was determining the height when Link walked in. He stared at Donovan who was penciling in a line on the wall.

"What are you doing?" Link asked, scowling.

"Building a bookcase."

Link eyed the pieces of wood skeptically. "Why?"

Donovan turned around and had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Because I need a place to put my books."

Frowning more, Link surveyed the rest of the room, spotting a small bookcase shoved aside.

"Why not use that one?"

"Not big enough."

"You could just buy a bigger bookcase then," Link said.

Donovan could have, but he felt to help maintain his sanity he needed to build one.

"I could," he said, "but I know how to make one so I'm going to."

Donovan walked back to the tool bag and rummaged through it pulling out a hammer, a box of nails and L shaped brackets.

"How do you know how to make one?" Link asked.

Donovan wanted the kid to leave him to his work but since this was the most Link had talked since Donovan had arrived five months ago, he figured it would be a bad move to push him away.

"Two years ago," Donovan said, kneeling down by the pile of boards. "I broke the one in my room by overloading it. My dad said since I was a fool to break it, it was a good time to learn how to make one myself. One that was stronger. So he taught me."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

Link sank onto Donovan's bed, his face crumpling. "My dad never taught me to build anything."

Donovan didn't reply. When Link wasn't taking out his anger over his father on Donovan, he was playing the pity card. In the first couple of months, Donovan had been sympathetic, but all that sympathy was dried up and he wanted to smack the kid out of his self-pity. But knowing his mother would kill him if he did, he simply said nothing at all.

Donovan had hoped teaching Link how to throw a punch would have bonded them, but when Link failed at it after one time, what connection Donovan thought he had created was gone. Now they were two people stuck together. Link wanted someone to hate and pity him and Donovan wanted to be left alone.

As Donovan was hammering two boards together, his phone rang. He raised his head as Link snatched the phone off of the bed.

"Who is James?" he asked.

"My brother."

Link's forehead creased and Donovan knew what was coming next so he went back to his work.

"Did you know I have a half brother. I didn't even know that until a few months ago. I've never met him. He doesn't even know I exist." Donovan banged away at the nail, not saying anything. "Does James know who I am?"