Do Unto Others

Chapter 4

Warnings: Rape

Note: All past happenings are in italics.

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Ronnie Jr. …

Six and a half years old…

"Mommy," I say as she laces my shoes and helps me get ready for school.

"Yes sweetie," she asks me, her fingers working overtime to try and button my jacket before the school bus comes.

Her hair is thinning and falling out, pieces at a time.

"Are you gonna be here for always?" She stops buttoning my jacket. She stops breathing. She looks at me like it is the last time she is ever going to see me.

She is scaring me.

"Ronnie," she says before leading me over to the sofa and sitting me down beside her. I look up at her, my eyes wide and frozen in place. "Do you remember when the doctor said that mommy was sick?" I nod my head. I remember. "Well, sometimes when people are really sick they can't live anymore. They are just too tired."

"Like Tex?"

"Yeah baby, just like Tex," she tells me with a smile as she wipes the tears from her eyes. "And just like Tex, I will always be in here. I'll always be in your heart," she tells me as she pats my chest and kisses my cheek.

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Ten years old…

I sit in the hard plastic chair, holding my little brother's hand and watching as the doctors and nurses walk in an out of mom's room. I don't like hospitals, they stink.

Ryan looks up at me with tears in his eyes. He doesn't understand what's wrong. He starts to kick his feet back and forth and I can hear his stomach start to rumble. "Ronnie," he says as he looks up at me, tears tainting his green eyes. "I'm hungry."

I can see the corner of mom's bed when one of the nurses walks out of the room. 'You are the big brother, Ronnie; you have to take care of him. You have to protect him and keep him safe.' That's what mom always tells me, that's what she always says. "Okay," I say as I get up out of the chair. I wait for him to get down before I grab onto his hand again.

I walk down the halls, invisible to everyone. I stop outside room 220E and watch as the white dividing curtain is pulled back to reveal an uneaten food tray. I move across the hall and wait, making sure none of the nurses are looking at me.

"You wait right here, don't move, okay?" I say as I stand him flush against the wall, his three year old body almost blending in.

"Okay," he says. I walk into the room and take the sandwich, fruit, and juice off of the tray. All the portions are small, bite-sized. I put the food in my pocket, just in case we get caught, and leave out of the room as quietly as possible, trying hard not to wake up the old man.

I lead my little brother back over to the chairs in front of our mother's room. A nurse comes out and I can see that they have dimmed the lights, prepared her for death. Mom doesn't like the dark. "We are still trying to get in touch with your dad, okay?" She says.

"Okay." They'll never find him. He knows how to disappear when he wants to. I wait for her to walk away before pulling the food from my pocket and giving it to Ryan. He eats it quietly.

I let him have it all. I am the big brother. I have to take care of him. Mom says so.

"Ronnie," Ryan asks as he drinks some of the apple juice. I look over at him and smile. "Is mommy going to go up to the sky?" Daddy doesn't like liars. Mom says that sometimes you have to tell a little bit of a lie, and that's okay. "Is she Ronnie? Is she?"

I look at my little brother and I want to lie. I want to tell him that mom will be fine, but I can't. "Yeah, mommy is going to go up to the sky. But, you don't have to worry… because you have me and I am going to take care of you," I tell him as I snake my arm around his neck and pull him into an awkward hug.

He eats the last piece of his sandwich and looks over at me. "Well," he says, mouth stuffed. "What about daddy?"

"Don't worry about dad. I'll worry about him, okay?"

"Okay."

The sound of machines going off wakes me up and I sit up straight in my chair. Ryan is still asleep, curled up in a ball on the hard plastic chair. I take off my jacket and cover him with it. I look up and see my dad strolling into the hospital. He is drunk. I can tell from here.

I stay quiet. Talking gets you in trouble.

The doctor walks up to him and extends his hand, dropping it quickly when my dad sighs and sucks his teeth. "She fucking dead yet?" He asks. I immediately look over at Ryan, thankful that he is still asleep.

The doctor tenses. The callousness that my dad shows is new to him, but I am used to it. My dad stopped caring a long time ago.

"Yes, Mr. Matthews, she passed away at approximately ten fifty-seven." I sit there in the chair, too afraid to move. My dad still hasn't noticed me, us, sitting here. "If you want to you can…."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," my dad says as he scratches at the stubble on his chin. "Where's the fucking bathroom in this place, fuck."

"Dad," my son calls, snapping me back to reality. I turn my head to look at him, the coffee mug barely touching my lips. "We have to go or I'm gonna be late for school." I nod my head and watch as he grabs his book bag before heading out the door.

I drink the rest of my coffee, letting the warmth wake me up.

"This is really good coffee."

"Thanks, my boyfriend bought it. He is really anal about stuff like that," he says with a shrug as he takes a drink. I watch his neck as he swallows, wanting so bad to taste him. I have to wait until the right moment.

"Have you ever heard of Francois Bearoe?" He asks all of a sudden, his eyes sparkling. I shake my head 'no,' adding a small smile to the gesture. "He's great. I just recently discovered him," he says as he moves to one of his cutting tables.

The surface is white, pure white.

He pulls out a large art book and opens it up to a beautiful painting. "Don't you just love the use of color? It's amazing."

"Yeah, it's beautiful," I say, my eyes never leaving his face.

The opening of the screen door brings me back again and I look into the frustrated face of my son. "Dad, would you come on." He walks back out the door and I hear the car door slam shut.

Alison walks into the kitchen, her hair pulled back into a tight bun and her skirt neatly pressed. She is beautiful. "You better go before he starts to honk the horn," she says as she kisses me on the lips and goes to pour a cup of coffee.

I grab my art portfolio and graded papers before heading out the door. Drop Michael off at school. Head to class. I love my job. Teaching advanced art concept and design classes are more than air to me.

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Jorge Ramirez…

I walk up to a young nurse standing in front of a patient's door. "Excuse me," I say. She turns and I show her my badge. Josh stands next to me, letting me run the show. "I'm Detective Ramirez and this is my partner Officer Hilling. I need to see a patient that was brought in here a few hours ago."

She nods and walks over to the nurse's station. "What's their name?"

"Justin Taylor."

I wait while she looks up Justin's name. I look over at Josh and his eyes are scanning the hallways, always on the lookout. "You are sure he is here, right?" I ask. He walks closer to me and nods his head.

"That's what they said." The nurse looks up at us and hesitantly tells us that Justin is back in surgery. She points down the hall toward a tall, thin man. He is sitting in the chair staring out at nothing.

He looks almost dead.

"That's his umm," she hesitates as she looks between me and Josh. "Partner," she says quickly. She doesn't know how we may react so she speaks with caution. I thank her and start to walk away from her. She smiles sweetly and goes back to her work, her attention now partially trained on us.

I stop close enough to the man, who I assume is Brian Kinney, and softly clear my throat. "Excuse me, Mr. Kinney?" He looks up at me. His eyes are glassy and tired, and the shadow of a beard is starting to creep across his face.

"Brian," he corrects absently as he looks up at me. "Who in the fuck are you?" He blinks his eyes slowly, not bothering to close them all the way. He glances toward the double doors down the hall and then at the clock on the wall.

I open my mouth to say something but he beats me to it.

"They are running over. He should have been out by now. It's been five hours," he says as he wrings his hands together. I catch a flash of a silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand and mentally file it away.

I breathe in a breath of air and push on. "Mr. Kinney, Brian. Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?" Josh pulls out his pad and a pen, ready to write down anything that Mr. Kinney might say.

Brian looks at me and clears his throat before nodding his head.

I ask him all the standard questions. Where was he the night that the incident took place? Can anyone confirm his whereabouts? Does Justin have any enemies? Can he think of anyone that would want to harm his partner?

He answers all of my questions, all of them, some with a note of disgust and impatience. I take a step back when Brian moves to stand up. He runs a hand through his hair and moves toward the nurse's station.

"Hey, do you think it would be possible to get someone to go and check on what is taking so fucking long?" He asks the nurse that is sitting behind the desk. She is about to protest when she sees the look on his face.

"I'll see what I can find out." She gets up from her chair and walks toward the double doors, disappearing from sight. Brian turns to me and looks at me as if it is the first time he has seen me.

"Do you need something else?" He asks.

"Yeah," I say stepping closer. "We need to talk to Justin, as soon as he is able." I pull my card from my pocket and hand it to him. He rolls his lips into his mouth and gives a small nod before walking off to meet the nurse halfway.

"Do you want to stick around?" I look over at Josh and shake my head 'no.'

"Let's call it a night." I check my watch and see that it is well past eleven o'clock at night. "Yeah, let's call it a night. We'll pick it up tomorrow." Josh nods and flips his pad closed, sliding it into the pocket of his uniform.

I take one last glance at Brian Kinney before following Josh to the elevators.

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Brian…

"What is taking so long? He was supposed to be in there two hours, tops." I listen as she tells me a lot of nothing. "So, you're basically telling me that I have to wait for the doctor to tell me something."

"Yes," she says as she walks away. I don't look at her. I start to pace the hallway. I can't sit anymore. I lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest.

"Fuck me, Brian. Fuck me." I bite my bottom lip and will myself to calm down.

"Brian," Michael calls and the image of Justin vanishes from in front of my eyes. He was outside, making all the phone calls and telling everyone.

I look at him and form a smile to play across my lips. "Let me guess, they all want to come to the hospital?"

"Yeah," he tells me and I let a small laugh escape. I knew they would want to. "You have no idea what I had to do to get Ma to wait until tomorrow." We let ourselves smile, grateful for the small break in the tension… in the waiting.

It is short lived as I see the double doors swing open. Dr. Salas comes out, flanked on the right by two doctors and on the left by another. Michael turns to the doctors and moves back toward the wall, closer to me. "Brian," Dr. Salas says as he nods his head toward Michael.

"How is Justin? What took so long?" I ask.

"Justin is well, under the circumstances. These are Doctor's Morrison, Clark and Douglass," he tells me as he points to each of his colleagues. "It was decided that in order to properly realign Justin's jaw it was best that his missing teeth be replaced prior to the wiring. Doctor's Morrison and Clark fit Justin with dental implants, causing the surgery to run a little longer than we anticipated."

I listen to everything he is telling me, cringing on the inside, but listening. "Everything went smoothly and we were able to repair the fractured jaw and wrist."

"Where is he? Can I see him?"

"In about an hour," Dr. Salas says. We talk for what seems like hours about Justin's recovery. "I'll have someone come and get you when he is situated in his room.

"Thanks," I say. He smiles and nods. The other doctors do the same and they turn to leave, opting to turn to the left and walk down the hall, instead of following Dr. Salas and walking back through the double doors.

"Well, that's good news at least," Michael says.

"Yeah," I say. I won't be completely happy until I take Justin home. I know he hates the hospital. "I better call Jennifer. She'll want to know."

"I have to go and pick up Molly. I have to make sure she is ready for school. I have to…." I put my hand on top of hers. The first person to person contact I have had since letting go of Justin's hand as they wheeled him down to surgery.

"It's okay, he'd understand," I tell her. I know she doesn't want to leave her baby, but she has to, and this time… this time, he is not alone.

I am here.

"Call me, if… if anything changes, okay?" She asks as she picks up her purse and starts to walk away.

I nod my head.

What would change? Why would it all suddenly change? I ask the questions, even though I already know the answers. Because, because he is hurt and because it is surgery, and with surgery nothing, nothing is absolute.

"I can call her for you, Brian," Michael says.

I put my hand over his and stop him from pulling out his phone.

"No, I'll do it." I walk outside and sit down on the first empty bench I see, pulling out my cigarettes and cell phone with one hand. I press a cigarette in between my lips and press the speed dial button that will connect me with Jennifer Taylor.

"Hello, Brian. What's wrong? I was just on my way out the door," Jennifer answers, the words flying out like a strong wind.

"He's fine, he's out of surgery. They are going to move him into his room soon." I listen as she tells me that she is on her way. I close my phone and finish my cigarette, blowing the bluish white smoke into the air.

"Brian," Michael says as he walks out of the sliding doors. "They moved Justin into the room. You can see him now." I toss my cigarette onto the ground and grind it out with my toe before following Michael back upstairs.

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Justin…

My whole face hurts. All the way down to my collarbone. I open my eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh light that is flooding the room. "The light, turn the light off," I say, my voice slightly muffled from sleep, dryness and the wire holding my mouth closed.

I hear rustling and then the light is gone. I open my eyes, slowly, and look right into Brian's face.

"Hey," I say as I look at him. He looks like he hasn't slept for days. He rolls his lips into his mouth and nods, a small smile playing on his face. He gets up and kisses me on my cheek. "Water," I manage to say. He picks up the pink water container and pours me some into a cup.

He presses the bottom on my bed and props me up, just slightly. The increased pressure on my ass making me all too aware of the events that happened. I wince around the pain as he holds the cup for me. I drink from the straw, letting the room temperature water wet my throat.

I let my head lean back into the pillow and sigh as my eyes fall on the ceiling before resting on Brian again.

"You know," he says. "This metal is going to seriously impede our sex life." I feel the tears start to fall down my face and I wince as I move my right arm, trying to wipe them away. The drugs in my system are slowly wearing thin and every movement is followed by the most intense pain.

Brian leans over and wipes the tears from my eyes. "It's okay," Brian whispers to me, his face and arms resting on the handrail of the bed. I move my left hand up and let it merge with his right. "Dr. Salas says that you can go home soon."

I smile, as much as I can, which isn't much. The pain runs through me and my grip involuntarily tightens around Brian's fingers. "Ouch, what's wrong?"

"Pain," I squeak out, the pain streaking through my body. It feels hot, like lightning is inside of me, dying to get out.

Brian presses the call button on the side of the handrail and waits for a nurse to answer.

"Yes?"

"Yeah, we need some pain medication in here."

"Okay, someone will be right there." The nurse comes quickly, changing the empty IV bags and increasing the drip on the morphine. "It should kick in in a few minutes," she says before checking my vitals and leaving the room.

"I think she likes you," Brian says with a smirk. "In the nine hours since you got out of surgery she is the only nurse I have seen." I swallow and try to make my words as clear as I can.

"Twelve… twelve hour… shifts," I say. Brian looks at me and smirks.

I force my eyes to stay open. Brian stands next to me, his hand gripping mine. I lock my eyes on the small platinum ring that's wrapped around the pinky finger on his left hand.

"What is that?" Brian asks as he looks at the black velvet box on the countertop. I don't answer. I just sit still on the stool, staring at the box. I tap the top of the box a few times before flipping it open and sitting it back on the counter, facing Brian.

He sits his beer down, harder than he intends to, and looks at me. "Justin." I stop him before he can even start to protest. He stares at me, his heart beating as he burns a hole into my chest.

"I don't want you to say anything. I am not asking you for anything, but it's something that I want. It has nothing to do with you. I could care less if you ever put this ring on," I tell him as I gesture to the two rings in the box.

"Then what do you want? You want to wear that ring so that everyone will know that you are taken, off-the-market, owned?" He asks as he picks up his beer and walks away from me. "It's bullshit. Wearing rings is bullshit. They don't save you from being hurt. Straight men wear rings and cheat at the same time. It's meaningless."

I expected as much.

"Yeah, that's true," I admit as I run a hand through my hair. "But I still want to wear one. You don't have to." I take the smaller ring out of the black box and slip it onto the ring finger of my left hand.

It's a plain platinum band that to the naked eye looks like nothing more than that, a plain platinum band. I carry the small box over to the bedroom and toss it into the top dresser drawer.

Never to be seen again.

Eight months later…

"What are you looking at?" I ask. He shuts the drawer and slides the tee shirt over his head.

"Are we going out or not?"

Two months later…

I open the door and walk down the stairs, pausing on the outside of the building to wait for Brian. He flings the door open ten minutes later and I see the flash of something on his finger as he reaches into his pocket to grab his lighter.

He holds the flame to his cigarette and I see the platinum band, wrapped snuggly around the middle finger of his right hand.

I don't say a thing.

His eyes follow mine and he lets go of my hand. He slides the ring off of his pinky and puts it back on my finger, and just like that… they go back to not existing.

"The whole gang is out in the waiting room. They have been here since early this morning. Debbie got here first. It's a wonder we got her to wait that long. They are all dying to see you. You're mom's been here." He is talking enough for the both of us.

"Brian," I say. Each word takes my breath away. He stops talking and looks at me. "Shut the fuck up." He raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

"Twat," he says and I smile, slightly.

"I want to see Michael," I tell him. He frowns and looks at me.

"Michael?" I nod my head and he says 'ok.' He gives my hand a squeeze and walks out of the room. I let the air out of my lungs, slowly. I notice an oxygen mask sitting on my pillow, soft wisps of concentrated air still flowing freely.

The door cracks open and Michael walks inside, creeping slowly like he is walking through a minefield. I can't stop the increased beat of my heart as he gets closer but I try my best not to show how uncomfortable I am.

"Hey Justin," Michael says. He walks closer and I tell him to stop. All of a sudden I can't breathe. He stops where he is, afraid. "Do you want me to go?"

I shake my head 'no.' I need to talk to him. It's important to me. It's about Brian.

"Do you tell him everything?" I ask as I color in the panels for the next chapter of Rage. Brian comes out of the bathroom and starts to get dressed.

"He's my best friend," he says with a shrug.

"I need you to do something for me." Michael moves closer the edge of the bed and waits for me to talk.

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