Teenage Baby

Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

Injection. Injection. Injection.

Aaron couldn't think of anything other than the dreaded injection.

It was the first thing that popped in his mind when he felt the odd vibrations in his legs, the ticklish numbness deep in his muscles, the frightening lifelessness that restrained him from moving properly. He could imagine Daddy creeping up to him at some point during the night and piercing the needle right into his flesh.

It made his heart race a thousand miles an hour, the close prospect of having lost control of his legs—the most important elements for his entire plans to escape. Even his chest swelled with fright until it was close to exploding, to bursting all the piling emotion into open air.

Aaron caught the bars and tried raising himself, but his numb legs didn't tolerate his weight, radiating with weirdly uncomfortable vibrations from the base of his foot to his knee until he fell back onto the mattress. He touched his shin, pressed his finger into the skin, but he didn't feel what he should; he felt odd, delusional thickness.

"No way." Aaron tried standing up again and again, failing miserably each time. He hadn't even done anything wrong. Why would Daddy do that to him? He'd been particularly obedient lately: he'd gone to bed without a word, let him brush his teeth, and he hadn't protested the slightest bit.

He strived to regain some sort of remote life and control in his legs—to receive some response from the nerves—but it didn't happen, and the terror snaked around his heart like poison ivy. He felt like his lungs were filled with thorns. "No! This can't happen right now."

Aaron's voice cracked and he almost wanted to cry but skillfully bit down the urge. Crying wasn't for men, the golden rule. So Aaron slumped down against the bars hopelessly, head leant back as he pressed his palms to his face. He wanted his legs back. He didn't know what to do, how to continue now that he had zero hope, now that he wouldn't be able to move until the drug would wear off—God knew when, and that was if it hadn't caused permanent damage.

The door suddenly flung open. Lou barreled in, his face crumpled and his shoulders tense with worry as he hurried towards the crib. "God, baby, what's wrong?" he urged, gasping when he saw heavy, strained breaths recking Aaron's little chest like earthquakes. Lou quickly bent over the railing and gripped Aaron's underarms, raising him and turning to place him on the changing table. With one hand, he held his pale cheek and forced him into eye-contact. Seeing his baby upset made his chest tighten. "Baby, tell me. What's wrong?"

"I can't feel my legs," Aaron said, almost choking on a strangled cry. Saying it out loud felt like an establishment of the horrible situation.

Numb, Lou thought. It was normal. Why did Aaron look so scared?

His eyes trailed down to Aaron's legs, then he held his bony ankle and raised the bottom of his pants until the fabric gathered at his knee, his shin now fully exposed. Pressing his finger into the skin, Lou carefully assessed Aaron's face for a reaction. But nothing. "Does it hurt, baby?"

Aaron shook his head. "It's numb. I can't feel anything."

Lou could see the need to cry on Aaron's face. Maybe because of everything? He wished his baby would stop torturing himself, stop holding back his emotions and restraining his tears. Why did he always try to deny his feelings? He smiled at Aaron in a way he prayed was assuring—in a way he hoped would put him at ease. "Baby," Lou said, "your legs are just numb. Maybe because you haven't been walking a lot. Don't worry, it happens."

Lou curled his arms around Aaron's waist, then pulled him off the table and placed him down on his feet, one hand gripping his arm to keep him balanced. "Move with me, baby. You'll see, they'll go back to normal in just a minute."