xxxxxx

Chapter 18

xxxxxx

Eddie's entire world was dark. His breaths were shallow, barely even there. His lungs burned. He felt a dull pain sensation all over his entire being. His eyes were either closed, or he was blind.

He could vaguely hear Richie's voice, but it sounded so muffled. Another voice was closer. It wasn't Patrick or Henry. It was a man. It was low and serious. Was it Mr. Powell? That didn't make sense. No one was home but Eddie and Richie... But then, the last thing he knew, Patrick was holding him down against the table, hurting him. That wasn't happening anymore. A chunk of time had gone by that Eddie couldn't account for. He was on the floor now, with a man's strong, but gentle hands holding onto him. He was scared. Was it Mr. Powell? Was Mr. Powell going to respond to this how Mr. Salinger did? With anger, accusations, a humiliating physical examination?

Eddie choked painfully and tried to turn his head to the side as he felt hands dragging him up into a sitting position. He felt a hand on his back and something hard pressed up against his lips.

"Stop-" He choked out weakly, realizing the tape was gone off of his mouth. Someone took it off at some point. A huge amount of time was missing from his mind. What the hell had happened...? The last thing he remembered, Patrick had him bent over the table. Eddie's consciousness was in and out during that. He felt pain down between his legs, but couldn't manage to open his eyes or even really flinch away.

Now he was on the floor. The tape was gone from his mouth. He didn't feel the sharp pain concentrated down below, just a dull pain coursing through his whole body, and a more concentrated pain in his lungs.

"Try to breathe, Eddie. You got this." Mr. Powell's voice spoke very close.

Eddie choked out a shaking, panicked, wheezing breath as he shook his head and shrunk back. He still didn't trust Mr. Powell. When did the man even get here? "Let go of me..." Eddie choked weakly.

"It's just your inhaler, son. Try to breathe. You gotta breathe, kid." Mr. Powell urged, pressing the inhaler back toward Eddie's lips. "I'm not gonna hurt you. It's just your inhaler."

Eddie whimpered, opening his mouth shakily so Mr. Powell could put the inhaler back. He couldn't breathe. He needed his inhaler desperately right now, so even though he was still kind of scared of Mr. Powell, he had to just deal with it. He couldn't afford to be scared right now.

"I got an ambulance coming, Eddie, so just stay calm. Try to breathe. I'm gonna push the button on this, so breathe in." Mr. Powell instructed.

Eddie inhaled and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter as Mr. Powell sprayed out a much needed puff of medicine. He coughed weakly, then leaned toward the inhaler again, silently requesting another puff. Mr. Powell seemed to understand and released more of the medicine.

"Keep breathing, kiddo. You're gonna be okay." Mr. Powell assured him, dragging him carefully toward the wall and leaning his back against it. He rested his hand on Eddie's chest as Eddie breathed in slow, shaking breaths and leaned his head back against the wall.

"You okay?" Mr. Powell asked, leaning down close, touching the side of Eddie's face to make him look up.

Eddie coughed softly and nodded, but kept his eyes closed. He felt so exhausted.

Eddie felt himself freeze as Mr. Powell's hands gripped his arms, leaning him forward. "W-what-" He managed to breathe, trying to ask Mr. Powell what he was doing. Why was he leaning him forward? To check if Patrick hurt him too bad? Was he going to do what Mr. Salinger did? "Don't touch me..." Eddie whimpered weakly.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, son. I'm just untying your hands." Mr. Powell explained.

Eddie felt Mr. Powell untangling the ropes around his wrists, then leaning him carefully back, squeezing his hands lightly. "I'm gonna go help Richie. Hang tight, kiddo. You're gonna be okay." Mr. Powell spoke, clapping Eddie's shoulder gently before standing up and walking away.

Eddie's eyes shot open. "Richie?" He whispered, looking across the room. He had almost forgotten Richie was here too, tied down, probably hurt.

"Don't worry about me, Eddie Spaghetti." Richie forced a smile, but he had tears in his eyes as Mr. Powell untied him and briefly looked him over.

"Those damn cops should have arrested those fucking lunatics." Mr. Powell grumbled, helping Richie up. "You okay, son?"

"Yeah." Richie breathed, immediately making his way over toward Eddie, squatting down in front of him, and pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Eds."

Eddie couldn't help but to choke out a tiny sob as he hugged Richie back. "I'm sorry, Richie... I got you mixed up in this... I'm sorry..."

"It's okay. That's not your fault." Richie promised, pulling back and looking Eddie up and down.

Eddie took a moment to do the same, looking his own self over, frowning when he noticed Mr. Powell's coat resting on his lap. He realized now that his pants were still pulled halfway down his thighs. Frowning, he looked past Richie's shoulder, toward Mr. Powell who was looking out the window, maybe hoping to spot the ambulance he'd called.

Eddie felt himself shaking. Had Mr. Powell seen him half undressed then? He supposed it was good that the guy had just put his coat over Eddie's lap instead of looking too hard, trying to examine him himself like Mr. Salinger did.

"You okay, Eds? You think you can breathe okay now?" Richie's breathless voice brought Eddie's attention back.

"Yeah." Eddie whispered. "C-can you help me..." He trailed off, struggling to stand up partway while also holding Mr. Powell's coat up to keep himself covered.

"Of course." Richie nodded, putting his arm around Eddie's back, holding him up with one hand and holding the coat up with the other as the smaller boy shakily pulled his pants back up. "Did Patrick... D-do you think you're okay?" Richie whispered.

Eddie swallowed painfully. "I don't know..." He whispered. His mind still felt so fuzzy on those details. "I think I passed out... Did he do it very long?" Eddie whispered. "I felt him start doing it... He did his fingers first... Then he started doing it for real."

Richie forced a small smile as he shook his head no. "He didn't do it very long."

"D-do you think I have to let a doctor-" Eddie cut himself off, biting his lower lip as tears filled his eyes.

Richie shook his head no again. "Only if you want to. It's up to you, Eds. It'll be more evidence against him, and if you want to make sure you're not hurt, it'd be a good idea... but you don't have to. It's up to you."

Eddie nodded softly, sniffing back tears. He didn't know if he should allow a doctor to examine him or not. He didn't think he was seriously hurt... And Patrick admitted to killing three other people, so he was probably going to go to some kind of prison for quite some time even without evidence of this. Mr. Powell and Richie had watched him do what he just did to Eddie too, so there were more witnesses than there were to some of the other things Patrick did.

"Just think about it, Eds. You've got a little while to decide. It's not a bad idea... It would be good to make sure you're okay... To have as much evidence as possible so he can't possibly get away with this... but it's still up to you. I understand why you wouldn't want to do it. I'll stick by you and support you either way." Richie promised, hugging Eddie close again.

... ... ... ... ...

Once again, Eddie couldn't bring himself to allow a doctor to examine him. He felt guilty about it. He felt like he was being weak and cowardly, but he just couldn't do it. Both Richie and the Powells were supportive though. Mrs. Powell asked him more than anyone else if he was sure, but she didn't seem too mad when he refused.

The cops had come by and questioned everyone who was there individually. When Eddie talked to him, the man gave Eddie quite a bit of hope, noting that Patrick confessing to two separate people about the fire that killed his parents about about smothering his baby brother was a pretty big deal. Even if he was only still a kid when it happened, he would at the very least be sent to an institution somewhere for quite a long time.

Since Eddie was too scared to allow an evasive medical exam, they took his clothes instead, telling him there might be DNA there, and the fact that Richie and Mr. Powell saw what Patrick was doing would be pretty big evidence too. Eddie told the cops and the doctors that Patrick had spit on his fingers before forcing them up into him. That he rubbed saliva on his penis too - so they had him press his underwear up against himself before taking them off, and seemed hopeful that there might be some evidence there.

Now Eddie was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt the nurse had given him. He and Richie were sitting in a hospital bed in the emergency room, waiting on Mr. and Mrs. Powell to finish talking to the cops and for the doctors to release them.

They had examined Richie too - since Henry beat him up pretty hard. He and Eddie were actually in separate rooms separated by a curtain at first, but the hospital staff let them pull the curtain back and eventually Richie just climbed into Eddie's bed with him.

"Did you hear Mrs. Powell yelling at the cops?" Richie whispered as he leaned close to Eddie.

Eddie nodded. She had sounded so mad, accusing them of being incompetent, telling them they should have gotten Patrick and Henry off the streets immediately when Richie and Eddie initially came forward about what had happened.

Eddie had never experienced an adult defending him so fiercely before - not since his mom... whose defense was a little more complicated. She liked it when Eddie was hurt or sick, then rudely demanded the best care for him like it wasn't her fault he was sick in the first place.

Eddie blinked as he looked out past the half-closed curtain. Mrs. Powell was at the nurse's station now, seemingly being kind of difficult. Eddie couldn't help but to smirk slightly. Did that mean she actually cared about them? Like more than a social worker doing her job?

Her husband was also pretty harsh with the cops when they first got to the house, while the paramedics were quickly looking Eddie and Richie over. He said a lot of the same things his wife did. He was very angry about Patrick and Henry being allowed to walk the streets and do whatever they wanted all this time.

They weren't going to be permitted to do that anymore. That's what Eddie heard the cops tell Mr. Powell. They said each of the older boys committed very serious crimes and would be sent away for a long time for it. Even Henry. Possessing an illegal gun, threatening kids with it, breaking into a house, holding kids captive and being an accomplice to sexual assault... It was all a big deal according to the cops.

"Do you think Mr. and Mrs. Powell actually care about us?" Eddie whispered, laying his head down on Richie's shoulder.

"Yeah." Richie quickly answered with a small laugh. "Clearly. You heard her yelling at the cops."

"Even Mr. Powell did." Eddie noted. "I kind of thought he didn't like us. But he was really nice. And he didn't act like Mr. Salinger. He didn't blame me. He didn't make me let him look..."

"I think he's a good person, Eds. I know we still don't know him well, but I think he's just kind of quiet. You were sorta passed out, but he was really gentle with you. He made sure you were still breathing before he headed for the phone, then came back and helped you with your inhaler."

"Yeah." Eddie nodded. "I remember that last part. I was kind of scared... but he was nice."

Richie smiled and nodded. "Maybe we finally found a place where we fit in this world. With each other. With them." He suggested, nodding toward the hallway. "I think they actually care... like real parents. Like good real parents. Like loving ones."

Eddie nodded, blinking as he looked up at Richie. Richie hadn't ever had loving parents. Not even one.. Not that he remembered. They couldn't have loved him if they gave him up when he was three without any real reason. Surely they'd have at least made contact with him or left a note or something if they loved him even a little.

Wrapping his arms around Richie and leaning rather heavily against him, Eddie closed his eyes. He had been pretty scared for Richie's sake when Henry had the gun pressed against Richie's head. Eddie didn't know what he would have done if Henry shot him. Even though he hadn't know Richie for all that long, he felt like the boy had become his best friend, his brother.

Maybe Henry wouldn't have really killed Richie. Maybe it was just a threat, to keep him and Richie still and quiet. Maybe even Henry didn't know for sure if he'd have done it or not. Patrick seemed pretty serious though.

Eddie wondered how close he and Richie had come to dying tonight. He wondered how much Patrick would have hurt him first. How long he would have had to endure brutal, humiliating pain before Patrick would have finally cut his throat like he threatened. Eddie was practically passed out by the time Patrick started though. He couldn't breathe and was in so much pain. He probably would have never known how long Patrick would have gone for. Only Richie would have had to suffer through watching it happen. He wondered if Patrick would have killed Eddie first or Richie.

"Richie... Do you think Patrick was really gonna kill us?" Eddie blurted, looking up at Richie.

Richie frowned down at him, blinking a few times, then shrugging. "Maybe... He did confess to like three fuckin' murders. Leaving us alive after that would have been dumb. I don't think Henry planned on killing us though."

"He looked kind of shocked when Patrick said all that." Eddie noted.

"It doesn't matter." Richie shook his head. "They're both in so much fucking trouble. The cops found them. Did you catch that? They arrested them about two hours after we got here. That's what I heard one of the cops saying to Mr. Powell. They said they're going to be in prison for a really long time - especially Patrick."

Eddie smiled slightly. He hoped that was true, that the two older boys would be locked up forever, that there wouldn't be some fucked up reason that they'd both go free.

"I'm sorry, Eds." Richie spoke in a small voice after a few minutes of silence between the two of them.

Eddie frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I said I'd protect you." Richie answered. "I didn't protect you."

Eddie shook his head. "There was nothing you could do... and you did protect me... So fucking much. Please don't feel bad, Richie. You've put up with so much bullshit from me."

Richie shrugged slightly.

"You have, Richie. You got up in the middle of the night because I had to pee and was too scared to walk six steps down the hallway by myself. You've been letting me sleep in your bed. You ran away with me, gave me your jacket... You told Patrick to hurt you instead." He whispered.

Richie looked away. "I couldn't stand to watch him hurt you, Eddie. I wish he'd have done it to me instead."

Eddie hugged Richie tight. "I fuckin' love you, Richie. Don't feel bad. Please don't feel bad."

Richie laughed softly. "I love you too, Eds. I know none of it was my fault... I just wish there was something I could have done."

"You did more than anyone else ever has." Eddie whispered. "I don't think anyone has ever cared that much before. Not even close... To fucking offer yourself up to be raped? Jesus Christ, Richie... I don't know if I could have done the same... I'd have wanted to be heroic and protect you, but I can't in all honestly be sure I could have offered myself up like that. I think I would have been too scared. You're so fucking brave..."

"You've been through enough, Eds." Richie whispered.

"So have you." Eddie whispered back.

Richie exhaled as he rested his cheek on Eddie's hair. "I think things are gonna be better from here. For real this time."

Eddie smiled, looking out into the hall at Mrs. Powell viciously defending him and Richie like they were her real kids, at Mr. Powell, who covered him up when he was exposed and vulnerable, who didn't pry or make him feel responsible, who helped him with his inhaler and spoke kind, gentle words while Eddie was panicked and in pain.

He looked back over at Richie, whose breaths were calm and even. His eyes were closed. Maybe he as falling asleep. His instinct was to maintain his paranoia, to not yet believe that Mr. Powell wouldn't hurt him later, to refuse to believe Mrs. Powell really cared about them. A big part of him wanted to remain guarded, but maybe this time he truly didn't have to. Maybe he had found a family. A good one. A loving one.

Maybe in his new house, it wouldn't matter that there was a foster-dad. It wouldn't matter that the bedroom doors didn't have locks. He had parental figures who actually cared now. He had Richie. Things were finally going to be okay. He was finally safe.

xxxxxx

the end

xxxxxx