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What Little Boys Are Made Of - Part 5---The little boy came bursting through the screen door and onto the porch of the farmhouse. His chest heaved with his huffing and puffing, but it wasn't from exhaustion. It was from fear. The hard, booted footsteps from inside the house rang in his ears. He's coming after me this time, the boy thought. His blue eyes misted, but he fought back the tears. He was 10 years old and too big to cry from being afraid. He had to think quickly. He couldn't outrun the older man, he knew that. Even though he was liquored up, his uncle could still catch him. The barn. The boy leapt off the porch and headed for the barn, running as fast as his shaking legs could carry him. Why couldn't he control his knees? They always started to shake and feel rubbery when he was scared. Once inside the barn, he dove into a pile of hay stacked in a corner and buried himself. He lay there, still as he could, stifling a cough from the dryness in the back of his throat. The barn door banged loudly as it was flung open. The boy froze. Why was he doing this? He never came after him before. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? Why... Suddenly, without warning he was grabbed by the waistband of his jeans and pulled roughly out of the hay!--- "No!" Trip gasped, sitting straight up in bed. Jon, asleep on a cot across the room, jumped up and was sitting next to him before Trip's head cleared and he realized where he was. "It's okay," Jon was saying. "Take it easy." Trip could feel the sweat on his face and he was breathing heavily. His eyes were misting and he silently cursed himself. His dry throat was intense and he coughed, licking his lips. Jon rose and moved into the bathroom. He flipped on the light and left it on as he returned with a glass of water. He cradled Trip's head so he could drink. Once Trip had lain back down, Jon put the glass on the shelf and looked down at him. "Want to tell me about it?" "Just a bad dream's all." Trip shrugged, looking off into the darkened room. "Might make you feel better." Jon pushed. Trip let out a breathy snort. "Feelin' better's not in my near future, Jon. Or haven't ya been payin' attention? Hell, I'm dealin' with the results of a 20 year old nightmare for the next week." Trip raised his hands up for emphasis. "I can't even take a piss without being reminded of what that bastard did to me..." The tears started to fall down the sides of his face and onto the pillow. Jon sighed sympathetically. "But we got through it, didn't we?" "Yeah, well," Trip wiped his face with the back of a clawed hand. "It was more like gettin' past it. Jon, I really appreciate everythin' you're doin' for me. I do. And no matter how long I live, I'd never be able to tell ya in words." His voice was starting to crack. "You don't have to..." "Wait," Trip raised his voice slightly. "Let me finish, 'cuz I don't know if I will if I stop to think about it." He drew in a shaky breath and blew it out through expanded cheeks. "It wasn't just that you had to help me in there. It was what I started to remember. Why I was runnin' away from him that time. I was in my room, gettin' ready to go to the swimmin' hole to meet some boys. I was gonna change into my cutoffs when I turned and saw him standin' in the doorway. He was starin' at me. I started to close the door and he grabbed it and pushed it back open..." ---"I'll help ya change, Charlie." The little boy looked up at his uncle, not sure why he was feeling very scared. The man slowly stalked into the room. Charlie backed up only to be stopped by bumping into the bed. He ended up sitting at the edge of the bed. "It's okay, Uncle Chris." The boy's voice quivered. "Naw," The man shook his head. "I ain't been payin' attention to ya like I should." Before Charlie realized what was happening, Uncle Chris' big hands were on his belt, undoing the buckle. "No!" Charlie yelled, trying to wriggle free from the man's grip. "Sit still, boy!" There was anger in his voice. The boy could smell the alcohol on his uncle. Not just his breath, but coming out of his skin. The man got the belt unfastened and was starting to unbutton the pants. "Leave me alone!" Charlie yelled, twisting his body. He didn't want to hurt Uncle Chris, but he also didn't like what he was doing to him. "Come on, Charlie-boy, I just wanna pay a little attention to ya." The laugh that followed sent a chill throughout the little boy's body. He knew this was not right. Uncle Chris was stinkin' drunk and he never remembered what he did when he was this bad off. Charlie knew he had to get away. "Stop it," Charlie screamed, balling his fists up and pounding his uncle in the chest. "Knock it off, you little shit!" Uncle Chris spit on him as he yelled. Then, he took one huge hand and grabbed both of little Charlie's hands in a tight grip. With the other hand the man continued to try and unzip the boy's jeans. Charlie was near tears now, but he knew he had to keep his head. He had no other options now and he did not like what he had to do. But Uncle Chris gave him no other choice. As soon as the toes of Charlie's boots connected with the man's groin, there was a wail the likes of which the boy had never heard before. The man released his holds and backed up as the boy barreled into him and ran out of the room.--- Trip had rolled over on his side, facing Jon, but staring at the floor. Jon just looked down at his friend in disbelief. "I didn't know what he was gonna do, but I was scared." Trip said. "And even now, I'm not sure. Guess I just reacted out of fear, like I did in the diner on Montelosa." "Kids are intuitive, Trip. I'd say if a ten-year-old child feels a situation with a trusted adult is scary...." Jon shook his head. "I don't know if this'll help any, but I think you must have been a tough little guy even back then." Trip rolled onto his back and looked up at Jon. How does he do it? Jon's faith and support were unwavering. Nothing Trip had done in the past had changed that. Not when he exercised poor judgment in dealing with an alien culture and got pregnant during a three-day diplomatic mission. Not when his anxiety got the better of him and he panicked when they were fusing with that alien jellyfish. Not when his body gave out on that desert planet and he nearly got both of them killed because of his weakness. "Why do you bother?" Trip mumbled. "What?" "I'm nothin' but trouble. Especially to you, Jon. Why do ya keep comin' back for more?" Jon let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. The guy just didn't get it. He really didn't get it at all. "I can't believe you have to ask. You really don't know?" "Come on, Jon. I'm hot-headed, damn smart-mouthed..." "You said it yourself, Trip." Jon explained. "Words just can't say it all sometimes. Showing someone how you feel about them is the only way. Fair enough?" Trip nodded, embarrassed at having his own feelings thrown back at him. He yawned. "You've got a lot of demons to exorcise, Trip." Jon said, standing. He bent over and pulled the covers up. "But you don't have to do it alone." "I know," Trip answered. "That's why it hurts so. I drag ya down with me..." "No," Jon snapped. "Don't do that. Don't think that I'm ever hurt by you or by what happens to you. When I'm hurting where you're concerned, it's because of me. I chose to make you important in my life, Trip, and with that comes care and concern. It's all part of it and I'm willing to risk that. Are we clear?" Trip nodded. Jon moved to shut off the bathroom light and then slid under the blankets on the cot. There was a brief silence then Jon heard the faint, muffled sounds of Trip sobbing into his pillow. Jon pulled the covers up tightly, more for comfort than warmth. There were definitely more demons Trip wrestled with and Jon was sure even his friend wasn't fully aware of all of them. But he was sure of one thing; he would find them all out and free that tortured soul. He had too, because he needed Trip to realize just how much he meant to him. And then, maybe, Jon could exercise the demon he had carried with him since the first day he met Charles Tucker III. |