Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Russell was a little boy.

He was a hurt little boy, so hurt that the bruises he wore sunk deep into his skin, down his bloodstream, up to his head. His mind bruised too. It turned shades of black, purple and blue, darkening and darkening under each blow his father dealt him. Each emptied bottle made Russell feel emptier.

The distance between him and his mother widened with every attempt to reach her. His heart cracked because she pulled back before they could touch, his heart shrivelled because she ignored his outstretched arms, his heart ached because she would hold any man at all but never her own son. It became a cold brittle little thing at the center of his chest.

To survive in the Seager household, a child needed to never complain, or cry, or care; so Russell became unable to feel anything just as it was necessary to do. He knew that he could only survive if he remained this way. He was aware how essential it was that he got rid of anything and anyone that threatened to change the perfectly impervious child he'd turned into.

The possibility to cause a death was never a big discovery for this particular little boy, nor was it something he thought was out of bounds. The fact that he could kill was a fundamental knowledge, just like breathing and walking were. Living beings were generally fragile, easily breakable, quickly forgettable, and they always eventually disappeared so they were ultimately meaningless. The skin would bleed red, the warm body would go cold, and no one would really hold onto the memory.

It was simple and easy.

A simple and easy way to survive.

Chapter Text

Russell was tired of listening to his father's incessant yelling and he was tired of seeing bottle beers everywhere he looked, tired of smelling his father's drunken breath, tired of his mother's passive and uncaring gaze, tired of being home. So as soon as his parents looked away, he snatched up some money from his mother's purse and left. He wanted to be somewhere where he wouldn't have to see anyone he knew so he walked to a part of town he'd never gone on his own before.

He'd originally thought he'd find something to eat until he walked by a huge advertisement for the local zoo. Russell stopped in front of it with his head tipped back. He knew he'd gone there as a kid when his grandma had still been alive but he didn't really remember any of it. He quickly made up his mind and started walking again.

Once he was standing in front of the zoo, Russell looked up at the board and then down at the crumpled bill in his hand. He didn't have enough money to pay the entrance fee. There were a few people flowing in and out the gates, not enough to constitute a crowd which he'd be able to mingle with. Russell decided to try and sneak in regardless on the off chance that he might go unseen. If it didn't work, well, he was good at running away from trouble. He didn't plan on returning here later, anyway. Russell thrust his hands into his pockets and followed a couple inside. They stopped to pay the entrance fee and Russell continued walking through the gates without looking back.

"Hey, you!"

Russell didn't glance over his shoulder and just kept going. He heard several voices speaking together and then footsteps ran after him, until finally a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. The big muscly blonde man who'd been working at the Welcome Desk was peering down at him suspiciously.

"Did you pay the entrance fee, young man?" he asked.

Russell told him that his parents already had and that they were waiting for him inside.

"Is that so? What did they look like?"

Russell described them without missing a beat, knowing full well that a couple with brown hair and brown eyes was too nondescript for the man to know which one it could be, and that there was no way for the man to remember every single one of the visitor's appearance.

The man didn't look like he quite believed what Russell was saying. "And where would they be? Why are you alone?"

Russell shrugged and said he'd forgotten his wallet to buy souvenirs, so he'd gone home to find it, but it looked like he'd lost it. Then he said that if he didn't believe him, they could go find his parents together and they'd show him the tickets they'd bought. The man looked back at the people staring and waiting for their turn in front of his booth. He seemed to be working alone, fortunately for Russell.

The man looked back at him and waved him away. "All right, you can go. Don't forget to make them show me the tickets when you leave."

Russell said that of course he'd do that, and the man nodded and went back to the Welcome Desk. Russell spun around and continued on his way. There were more people than he'd thought there would be, but he didn't mind. No one was bothering him. He wandered along the giraffes' paddock, the birdhouse, the tigers' enclosure. He stopped there to watch the big cat who was laid out in the sun atop a thick tree branch. Russell wondered how soft its fur was.

He'd been standing there for a while when someone came up to him with clanging sounds and said: "Hi there."

Russell looked up and his gaze landed on a young man wearing a dark green coat. The man's black hair sported a hair ornament made of golden threads glinting in the sunlight coupled with a shiny blue bead and a green diamond. Russell stared at the object with quiet interest.

"You're a new face, I think... Did you come here alone?"

Russell tore his eyes away from the shiny threads and his gaze settled on the man's face. He nodded even though he was a bit puzzled who this guy was. The man nodded back, looking thoughtful.

"You know, buddy, I was gonna go get the zebras some food... Want to come with me? I'm the zookeeper here, by the way," he clarified a bit awkwardly. "The name's Tabasa."

This was an unexpected turn of events. Russell had wanted solitude to calm his head, but he liked animals, and now he was curious to see how the zookeeper took care of them. Russell decided that he'd go with him and accepted his offer.

"Okay, then let's go," said Tabasa. "What's your name?"

Russell told him and really hoped that they wouldn't be talking the whole time. The zebras sounded interesting but that didn't change the fact that the state of his home still lingered at the back of his mind. Tabasa started walking again and the small dipper in his empty metal bucket clanged with each step.

"You seem pretty young to be coming here by yourself... You want to give me an age?"

Russell answered, low and laconic.

"Really? I thought for sure you were younger than 13... Well, it's not problem. So what do you think of the zoo? Pretty cool place, right?"

Russell nodded once again.

"Don't hesitate to ask me anything about the animals. I raise a bunch of them here at the zoo... sometimes I even take in wild animals living around town. Squirrels are cute."

They walked some more while Tabasa talked all by himself and didn't seem to mind that Russell wasn't answering anymore, down the paved paths until they reached a rectangular grey building. The zookeeper pulled out his keys with a jangle and turned a key in the lock, then opened the door. Russell curiously peered through it before following the man inside, taking in the cages of monkeys and the papers pushed off the desk by the breeze if they weren't already littering the floor.

"This is my office, kind of... Can you go ahead and shut the door behind you? I don't really want to pick all of those up."

Russell did as he was told while telling the man that he should be a bit more organized, in that case.

"...Yeah... You're probably right," answered the zookeeper in a tone that clearly indicated he wasn't ready to give up his languid ways any time soon.

The monkeys started screeching when Tabasa neared their boxes, and Russell stepped over to the desk to get a better look at the papers: detailed data on the animals' health, division of feed... Nothing he really cared for, but it was probably important.

"...Oh, yeah. Sorry guys," the zookeeper apologized to the monkeys. "Just wait a second, okay? I'll get you lunch. Wouldn't be good if you fell even sicker..."

He walked to the side of the room where he set down the pail he was holding and started rummaging through the cardboards in the corner. Russell turned away from the papers and walked towards the cages. He was careful to stop a few steps away from the closest one and stared at the monkeys without a word. Their screeching was really loud in his ears. One of the animals grabbed at the bars and opened its mouth wide, teeth flashing against bright pink flesh of its throat that flapped with every scream.

Something that usually laid low inside of Russell started growing unsettled the longer he stared at the monkey's ridiculous gesticulations. His gaze roamed across the cages. The senseless shrieking was growing dissonant all around him. There were big feverish eyes and bared teeth and open mouths everywhere he looked. The way they pulled at the bars and thumped their bodies against the walls reminded him of grotesque love-making. Disgusting, like a heavy man grunting and panting and yelling and throwing things around.

He should die.

"...Hey, Russell. Care to help me?"

The zookeeper's voice pulled Russell out of his head and he looked over to see that the man had straightened and stepped away from the cardboard boxes holding bags of apples, carrots, eggplants and cucumbers in his arms. Russell stepped back. He didn't care for that. He didn't want to get close to the loud creatures.

The zookeeper shrugged when Russell didn't answer, like it wasn't a big deal. "Suit yourself..." He squatted in front of the cages and started shaking the food out of the bags, dumping the vegetables and fruits on the ground where they rolled out and bumped against walls and paws. Tabasa didn't look like he minded all the noise. He smiled at the animals and said: "There you go. Eat up."

Russell saw the softness in the lines of his face and felt a flutter. The zookeeper was nice. He was much older than Russell, but his eyes weren't cold or mean or suspicious like all the other adults'. Tabasa had smiled at Russell and he'd talked to him normally. Tabasa had even asked Russell for what he wanted to do and he'd listened for his answers like they actually mattered to him. He hadn't acted any different when Russell had stopped answering out loud, he hadn't told Russell to use his words, he hadn't even pressed him for a reply when Russell had ignored some of his questions. Russell wondered if that was what having an older brother felt like.

An older brother... He would never get an older brother. He'd never know what it was like to have a real big brother. He didn't like thinking about this.

Tabasa was nice to him, and Russell didn't like it. He didn't like it because he didn't understand why the man was being nice to him, and Russell didn't like what he didn't understand, especially when it elicited a feeling in him. There was something bitter and heavy invading his heart, but there wasn't supposed to be anything in there. And the monkeys, they kept screeching. It had to stop. He had to stop everything. Something was wrong.

Russell looked around again and his gaze latched onto one of the iron pipes laying across the ground, next to a pile of cardboards.

He walked over and his small fingers silently wrapped around the cold piece of metal. The monkeys, the monkeys screeched but he couldn't get them in the cages. It was the zookeeper's fault that something was wrong, anyway. He was the one who'd brought Russell in here and made that thing appear in his chest. The monkey's screams became louder when the boy quietly walked up to the zookeeper's back. Russell stopped behind him.

Killing was easy, wasn't it? It was easy to get rid of things that were a bother. The pace of Russell's heartbeat didn't change. He felt detached. The monkeys' jumping became frantic, their shrill screams pierced Russell's ears.

The zookeeper gestured all about with his hands and said: "Hey, hey, calm down! What's the matter, guys?"

Holding this piece of metal felt natural. Russell raised the pipe above his head, his eyes trained on the back of Tabasa's green hood. Swinging it down... Simple.

The zookeeper's head turned around. "Hey, Russell-"

He cut off and looked up from his crouched position when he saw that Russell had been standing at his back. The hair ornament slipped down from Tabasa's shoulder into the air where it rocked like a small pendulum. His blue eyes widened. His lips moved. "What...?"

Russell swung the pipe down with all his might.

Chapter Text

From the very moment he saw the glint of metal hanging above him, Tabasa knew that he was in danger. He twisted around fast, arms raised, and the pipe connected with a dull thud and an audible snap that sent an explosion of pain shooting all along his arm. Tabasa let out a cry of pain amidst his monkey's shrieks of alarm and toppled over from the force of the blow. The boy's feet were unmoving in front of him and Tabasa hurriedly crawled away before he could get hit a second time, his hand shooting out to grab the cage's bars to drag himself upright. Russell watched him without saying or doing anything the whole time. The iron pipe hung loosely from his hand and rested against the ground.

Tabasa warily stared back, his breathing short and harsh, adrenaline coursing through his veins along with fractious pain. His legs felt wobbly and he had to lean against the cages to keep his footing. He took another step back and winced, muttering: "Ow." Every movement made his injured arm jostle against his chest.

The boy remained completely immobile. His lack of emotion was deeply unsettling and that was part of why Tabasa could feel himself freaking out a lot. Animals with no distinguishable body language were unpredictable and among the most dangerous for that very reason. He didn't dare move, afraid to set Russell off again, and he couldn't get out because the boy was standing in the way of the exit. It was hard to think through the pain. Tabasa was used to getting injured, bites from the animals, cuts and bumps from his own clumsiness, heck, he'd once broken a toe because he'd dropped something on his foot, but he'd never been attacked by someone.

He tried to order: "Put that thing down, Russell." He couldn't keep his voice from shaking.

The boy's dull eyes switched from Tabasa's face to the pipe he was holding. After a short moment, he let go of the pipe. It landed on the ground with a loud clang that made Tabasa flinch, his arm rubbing painfully against his coat. He waited for Russell to move, to talk, anything. Nothing happened.

"...Russell," he tried, "just... Please let me go. Whatever I did, I'm sorry..."

The boy lowered his head and looked at his hands. Then he looked back up. An odd look had appeared in his blue eyes but Tabasa couldn't tell what it was, and then the boy whirled around and ran out of the room.

The footsteps faded away and just like that, Tabasa was left alone cradling his broken arm. His monkeys had never stopped screaming. He didn't have the time to calm them down from all the commotion. Tabasa was distantly aware that he needed to get to the hospital fast because this was an emergency and an injury like this one could cost him his arm as well as his job, but he needed to warn his work. He got his phone out to call them and stared wide-eyed at the wall as the dial tone rang in his ear.

What the heck was that?

The operator working at the Welcome Desk picked up and Tabasa said: "Dani? It's- It's Tabasa."

"Oh hey, Tabasa. Why're you calling on here?" asked Dani. He was a nice older guy who was pretty lax about rules and guidelines, so they got along just fine.

"Um." Tabasa floundered. He didn't know where to start. Eventually he said: "My... I think my arm's broken."

"What? Shit, are you okay? How did it happen? Did you call an ambulance?"

"No, I- He ran away. Right, I need to... call an ambulance. I'll call one."

"Who ran away? Did someone hurt you?"

"He's just a kid, he looked lonely so I thought-"

"Tabasa, what did he look like?"

"Uh, small... Blonde, blue eyes, um, he didn't smile."

"He just left?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Call an ambulance, Tabasa. Okay? 911. I'm going to see if we can find- Oh, shit. Hey you! You!"

The line went dead and Tabasa stupidly kept the phone to his ear, until he realized that he needed dial a number to call an ambulance. He moved to hit the three numbers Dani had told him to call and only waited a few seconds for the operator to pick up. He kept stammering when he told them that his arm was broken. He was starting to feel kind of cold. When they asked him how it had happened, his eyes landed on the abandoned pipe laying on the floor. He shivered. Tabasa was certain that Russell had aimed at his head. He could've died. He didn't even know why he'd been attacked or what he'd done to deserve that.

"I-I just broke it," he finally stuttered. "I just want to, to get it fixed, please."

"We're sending an ambulance for you. Can you wait for them at the entrance?"

"Yes, yes... I can do that. Thank you. Thank you," he mumbled.

"It's not a problem, Mister McNeil. You should also find someone to stay with until help arrives, all right? I'll hang up once I know that you have company."

"All right." Tabasa got up, hissed a soft "ow", and walked out of his office.

He only remembered to lock the door when he was already halfway across the zoo, but then a middle-aged couple of visitors saw him, asked him what was wrong, and insisted on accompanying him to the meeting point, so Tabasa gave up on going back there. The operator hung up at some point, and then he was standing on the sidewalk with the couple while they tried to distract him from his pain by telling him how proud they were of their son who was about his age and had just graduated his 4-year degree. Tabasa apologized for ruining their stay at the zoo. The woman promptly reassured him that it was no big deal and that they were glad to help.

Tabasa hadn't seen anyone at the Welcome Desk and he wondered where Dani had disappeared off to. Then he wondered what had driven that boy to hurt him. It distressed him not to know. Tabasa was sure that he hadn't done anything wrong since he hadn't known Russell before today. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense, and his head was already very shaken up and confused. Part of him wanted to understand, but the other part never wanted to see the boy again. The kid was crazy and Tabasa wasn't a fan of crazy.

It took Tabasa's arm two whole months to mend.

Dani had caught the kid on the way out of the zoo and he'd been carted off to the police station soon after. Tabasa wasn't too clear on the details, he'd purposely tried not to get too involved in the whole process and had done the bare minimum of what was required of him, such as telling the police what exactly had happened to him.

It hadn't been easy living with a broken arm and it had been hard on Tabasa to be unable to work when pretty much his whole life revolved around the zoo. He was worried about his animals and about the fact that someone else was looking after them, even though his replacement was known to be good at his job. On top of these worries, Tabasa had had to learn to live with nightmares. He would often dream a figure standing behind him as he slept, but then he'd wake up and find no one there, even though it felt so real that he had to get up and double-check the locks of his home. They weren't as frequent nowadays but they weren't completely gone, and Tabasa remained twitchy on a day-to-day basis.

Dani called him a few days before his return to warn him that one Russell Seager would be present at the zoo.

Tabasa's eyes widened. "What?"

"He got sentenced to a CSO."

"CSO?" echoed Tabasa, confused.

"Community service order."

"Oh."

"Yeah. He works here for parks and gardens type stuff, so hopefully you won't have to cross paths with him too often. You definitely will from time to time, though, because he's going to be there for a while. Apparently he got a hundred hours, but he can't do more than four hours a day and he's on a bi-weekly rythm, so that means he's got approximately three months with us. Maybe you could work out a schedule where you can avoid him. Anyway, I thought I'd let you know to spare you the shock."

"Well... Thanks for the heads-up, Dani."

"No problem. See you on Monday, Tabasa."

Tabasa met Russell again on his very first day back at the zoo.

It was while he was cleaning out the wet straw from the rabbit pens in the children's farm that he heard footsteps coming to a stop behind him. He immediately whipped around, a reflex which manifested each time someone stood at his back that he'd acquired ever since he'd gone through the harrowing experience of nearly getting his head smashed in by an iron pipe. His gaze landed on a blonde head and he took an involuntary step back when he recognized the boy.

Russell was staring at him with the same dull blue eyes as the first time they'd met. This time he was wearing a youth offender's bright orange jacket over his clothes. Tabasa noticed he still had the same shorts despite the bad weather but Russell didn't seem to mind. It was quiet for a moment during which neither of them spoke. Tabasa distractedly rubbed his arm as he cautiously eyed the boy. He knew full well he looked deathly afraid of the boy and that it was kind of ridiculous given that they were ten years apart, but he didn't want to let his guard down around Russell. He could make out a dark shape around one of the boy's wrists where it was slightly uncovered by the shortness of his sleeves. The boy suddenly spoke and Tabasa nearly jumped out of his skin, but then he realized that Russell had just apologized.

Tabasa hesitated. "Listen, maybe we should avoid each other... Okay? I don't know what you were expecting me to say but I don't really want to be around you after what happened... You understand that, right?"

The boy pensively looked to the side. He didn't seem guilty at all. Then he said that he knew he'd done something bad, that this was why he was apologizing, and that it was fine if Tabasa didn't want to be around him. Having said this, Russell turned around to leave.

Tabasa stared in disbelief and couldn't stop himself from blurting out: "Why did you do it?"

Russell glanced at him. It was there again, the same strange look as last time, after he'd hurt Tabasa. But Russell didn't answer. He just turned back around and walked away. Tabasa was left standing alone in the Little Farm. He felt distinctly uneasy and distracted for the whole day after that encounter.

"The kid does a good job but he gives me the heebie-jeebies. I don't get why you thought it was a good idea to bring him along that day," Dani told him as his brown gaze sternly followed Russell's orange jacket. Cigarette smoke emanated from the white stick between his fingers and curled in the air between them.

Tabasa shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest. They were on their break and it just so happened that Russell was raking the dead brown and orange leaves nearby. "I told you, he looked lonely and younger than he is... I thought that maybe he was just lost but when he told me he was on his own, I decided to show him how I fed zebras so he'd have some fun."

"Guess you'll think twice about doing that from now on, huh?"

"...Yeah."

It had been two weeks already since Tabasa had come back and Russell had respected his wishes to keep a distance between them. Sometimes Tabasa thought he could learn how to relax at work again, but there were bad days when he didn't even want to go in his office, and others when he'd make detours around the zoo if that meant he could entirely avoid seeing Russell. Even taking care of the monkeys made him nervous now, especially when they got excited and started screaming and jumping around for whatever reason. That never failed to make him whip around to check that no one was standing at his back.

Tabasa couldn't always avoid walking past Russell, however, and he'd noticed soon enough that Russell never brought a hat, or a scarf, or food, or water, even though he spent four hours doing physical labor in the cold weather every day. Russell didn't ask for anything, either. Clearly he wasn't the type of kid to ever complain. Tabasa didn't feel like being the one to check on him when he still didn't know why Russell had chosen to attack him. He didn't know if anyone working at the zoo wanted to do it, either, given that they all sympathized with Tabasa.

"He doesn't speak much," observed Dani.

"He didn't back then either. I think he's just like that."

"Huh."

Both men fell silent and Tabasa stopped watching Russell to gaze up at the grey skies instead. They were slowly but surely edging away from autumn and closer to winter. Tabasa was always grateful for his long hooded coat when the weather got more hostile. Dani's line of thought must've been heading down the same road because when he spoke again, he said: "Have you noticed the kid's always in shorts?"

Tabasa looked back down. "Yeah."

Dani chuckled. "It's funny, there's always that one kid wherever you go. I had one in every school I attended."

"Me too... This one guy came to school every day on bike, in shorts, even all winter long. It was crazy. His legs would get as red as a lobster but he always said he just didn't feel the cold. I think he was with the boy scouts or something."

"Hm." Dani nodded, snuffed out the butt of his cigarette against the trash's steel top and flicked it inside. "Some people are just natural born beasts, I guess. Well, got to go. See you later."

"See you," said Tabasa, and they parted ways.

Chapter Text

Russell had wanted to escape the confusing emotions he'd felt because of Tabasa, had tried to get rid of the problem any way he knew how, and was now stuck working in the very place he'd wanted to avoid. The zookeeper was still there. He could still make Russell feel that... thing he'd felt. Russell really didn't want that. He could've killed Tabasa so easily, back then. Living beings were easy to wipe out of existence. They bled red on white fur, and then their breathing slowly ceased, and after that they would stop moving completely. They would stop existing, just like that. But Russell hadn't killed the zookeeper, and he wished he could find a solution.

Russell knew that what he'd done was wrong. School had taught him that much. He'd also figured out that other people felt bad after hurting people, but Russell didn't think he was like other people. He didn't know what that bad feeling called 'guilt' was actually like, and the same went for 'shame'. He knew what he did with Chris to earn money could hurt others, that it was a crime and that crimes were very bad, but he didn't care. He'd seen Chris wearing a worried expression sometimes when they talked about the drugs, and he knew that his friend didn't understand how it came so easy to Russell to deal them or how he was never perturbed by the kind of people they met.

Chris had been the first one to show Russell that side of humanity when he'd given him a taste of insanity in little pills. Bugs scurrying around, burying themselves in the folds of his brain. Bright yellow leaves against his eyelids, their nauseous glow. Aggressively flashy pink butterflies fluttering in the back of his eyeballs, hitting the tip of his fingers from the inside. Russell hadn't liked the pills. He'd settled for selling them instead.

Russell knew that he should've felt something bad and wrong inside of him, at least once, at least in the beginning when Chris had shown him how to sell drugs. But he hadn't. Maybe he was supposed to feel bad when he saw a person lying on the cold ground, foaming at the mouth with sallow cheeks and grey skin, hysterically laughing to themselves alone; maybe he was supposed to feel 'guilty' when he told himself that he was the cause of this in some way. But he didn't. He didn't care. He didn't care at all. Besides, dealing drugs helped Chris survive, and that was good, right? Helping people was a good thing. Russell gave all the money to Chris because there was nothing he cared to buy for himself.

Even if Russell often didn't know what to do with his emotions, he knew that he was capable of feeling. It just wasn't in the same way as everyone else. He didn't understand them. Many times he didn't even know who he was or what he was worth. It all made him lost in his own mind to think about it, so he preferred not to. It was better to just ignore everything. All he needed to do was to stay out of his parents' way, help Chris get money for his mom, and get carried by life every day.

Except that now, there was a bump in the road. He'd been put in custody the day he'd been brought in for questioning by a certain Officer Gennings, and his case had been referred to juvenile court, and Russell hadn't understood everything but he did know that Tabasa hadn't asked to press charges against him. Russell hadn't admitted to what he'd done at any point, but he hadn't cared to deny it, either. They'd asked him why he'd hurt the zookeeper and he hadn't explained because he didn't think anyone would understand.

Oddly enough, Tabasa had lied in his statement when recounting the events that had lead to his injury: he hadn't mentioned the iron pipe and had instead explained that he'd gotten shoved into the vegetable and fruit crates and fallen on the ground, whereupon one of them had toppled over and badly landed on his arm. Russell didn't know why Tabasa had done this. The result was that when Russell appeared before a judge, no formal charges were entered against him and he was only required to perform community service work. His dad was the one who got involved in the proceedings since his mom preferred to think her son didn't exist. He agreed to the program of informal adjustment, punished Russell for wasting his time, and then didn't care about any of it anymore.

So now Russell had to work at the zoo to make up for attacking its zookeeper, who was also the person guiding his work. In the two months Tabasa had needed to heal, Russell had worked with the replacement zookeeper instead. When Tabasa had returned, Russell had gone to apologize to him because that was what people did after hurting someone. Truthfully, the boy didn't care that he'd broken the zookeeper's arm. Those hadn't been Russell's bones. That hadn't been Russell's pain. Why should he have cared? Apologizing was just something he was supposed to do. Now that he knew that the zookeeper wanted them to stay far away from each other, Russell did exactly that.

Working at the zoo two times a week was something he quickly found an appreciation for, even though Russell had to do it in the cold with just his ratty jacket on. His hands quickly became dry and sore from the wind and cuts despite the gardening gloves his supervisor had lended him for the task, but he found that he didn't mind it too much. Russell liked the methodical, practical tasks that came with green space maintenance, and he liked that there were animals he could look at, and he liked that no one was there to talk to him while he worked. There were only his Youth Justice officer he had to report to and his supervisor at the zoo who told him what to do.

Russell hadn't told anyone why he had to go to the zoo twice a week after class, not even Chris, because he hadn't felt the need to. And maybe because he didn't want Chris' mom to know that he'd tried to kill someone when she was already worried that her son hung out with the wrong crowd, given how often they both got into fights. He only had one month left of community service anyway. As far as his friend knew, Russell had simply found another place he liked to hang out that was outside of their usual neighbourhood. Community service was as good an excuse as any to stay away from home and Russell was satisfied to have something to keep him busy. He'd crossed paths with Tabasa a few times but it hadn't elicited that strange feeling again. Everything was fine.

Being sentenced to community service meant that Russell had to be careful not to do anything risky until the three months were over, so he'd told Chris that he wanted to take a break from dealing. It had confused Chris but he'd taken it in stride with a "Sure, come back when you get bored!" Russell kept on living his life, going to school but mostly skipping class, going to church alone and praying. He liked going to church. It was peaceful there.

The Morning Glory Church stood on the edge of town and was painted a pure white, with vines of beautiful dark flowers scattered all along its walls and colorful glass panes on every side. A family of three took care of this church, two siblings and their mother. They all had the same chestnut-brown hair and cinnamon-red eyes. They looked happy when they talked to each other, although the priest's sullen expression was nearly constant. Russell had been going there for long enough that he knew their names. The priest was Dogma, the littler sister was Cody, and their mother was Deirdre.

Russell could see there was something between them that he knew he'd never have. The afternoons he spent at church were mostly dedicated to watching them chat. There was always a pervasive ache in Russell's body every time he perceived the warm, glowing aura that surrounded the small family. She smiled at the siblings so often. He knew that a mother was supposed to love her children. He'd wondered if his mom loved him at all, somewhere deep in her heart that he just couldn't see. He'd wondered so many times what he'd done wrong, why he didn't deserve to be shown any of it, why she was so angry at him, and yet he still hadn't found an answer.

There was a time when Russell had longed for his mother's tender touch, when he'd still been trying to do everything and anything to please her. She'd only pushed him away again and again. It was never the right time, never the right words, never the right thing to do. He'd resigned himself to never be loved. Unfortunately it didn't stop him from wishing even now, sometimes, for his mother to give him a kiss or a hug; for his mother to look after him and make him delicious meals and tell him how proud she was of him. But that wasn't his mother. His mother was the woman who gasped in pleasure from the bed next to his, she was the woman who moaned for more, she was the woman who made love to big beasts at night.

Sometimes she got drunk and those were the only times she looked at Russell. "You weren't born by choice," she'd say. "You ruined my life."

Why was I even born, he'd wonder. At least kill me after my birth.

It hurt every time he came to church and saw what they had that he never would, but he couldn't stop coming here. He just couldn't stop. So Russell would go to church and sit in the pews in the far corner, and he would pray. He prayed, so that he could see this mother who loved her children. He prayed, without believing.

Chapter Text

Tabasa took pity on Russell a week later when he walked by with his buckets of feed and saw Russell rubbing his hands together, hunched in a corner and shivering against the bushes. There was still no sign of a hat or a scarf despite the dropping temperatures. Tabasa looked around to make sure that he wouldn't be alone with the kid and went to put down his buckets in the grass next to him.

"Hi there," he awkwardly began.

Russell lifted a flat gaze to his face and didn't answer. Tabasa could already feel himself sweating under his clothes. It was always complicated to tell what the boy was thinking and Tabasa had never been good at that particular guessing game. He lifted a finger.

"First off, if you still feel like assaulting me... I'd like it if you could tell me right now."

Russell shook his head, then asked why Tabasa was talking to him. Hadn't they agreed that they had to stay away from each other?

Tabasa self-consciously brought his hand up to rub his nape over the hood of his coat. "Yeah, um... I know. It's just that... You're still a kid, and I don't know if anyone else has checked up on you yet, and you... uh... look like you're cold. Do you want a spare hat or something?"

Russell shrugged. He continued staring at him for an uncomfortably long moment and then asked why he'd lied to the police. Tabasa was taken aback by the sudenness of the question. He glanced around just in case someone had overheard, but it didn't really matter if anyone had, because he'd checked and lying in a victim statement wasn't that illegal.

Tabasa's attention returned to Russell and he hesitated shortly before he explained: "I wasn't going to tell them you tried to kill me with a weapon. ...That's really what happened, right? You... You tried to kill me."

Russell nodded.

Tabasa shivered and took a cautious step back before he could stop himself. Russell didn't make a move towards him so it didn't look like he was going to attack.

"Well... When they told me I had to come up to the station and say what happened, I looked up what happened to kids like you, and... Maybe I'm stupid. Maybe I should've let them. Maybe that's what you deserve, because... what do I know about how many people you've hurt before? But I didn't want you to be thrown in jail to rot for so many years. You're... just a kid. You know they could've tried you as an adult for what you did?"

Russell just kept staring.

Tabasa tried to take a deep breath but his chest felt tight. "...I just know I would've felt guilty for ruining your future if they put aggravated assault and battery on your criminal record. I don't even know why you did it... For all I know, you could be insane, but you could also have been pushed to do that. I have no idea... So I didn't want to do anything drastic." He rubbed his arm. "You're lucky, Russell... You're lucky it was me and not a more vengeful person. I hope you realize that... I really hope you don't do something that dangerous again."

Russell's gaze slipped away, down to the grass. They were both quiet for a very long time.

"Why did you do it?" asked Tabasa.

Russell lightly shook his head. He opened his mouth and it looked like he was going to explain himself, but then he closed it again. It looked like he either couldn't find the right words or knew Tabasa wouldn't understand.

"...Did someone tell you to hurt me? Were you threatened or something?"

The boy shook his head. Well, thought Tabasa, at least he's honest.

"So you just decided to hurt me... And that's it?"

Russell shrugged and finally said that it had been because of the monkeys, because they'd been so disgusting, and he'd never get a nice older brother like that, and he'd just wanted to make everything stop because it had all been so loud in- Russell stopped himself mid-sentence. His gaze flickered up to Tabasa's face and then back to the ground.

Tabasa stared at the boy, bewildered. He couldn't help but think that maybe Russell really was mentally ill. At any rate he definitely wasn't right in the head. The monkeys hadn't been doing anything but acting like monkeys, and what kind of reason was that, hurting someone because he wanted a brother? It was unsettling that none of Russell's reasoning made sense.

"Do you... have a therapist, or something?" eventually ventured Tabasa.

Russell shook his head and stared off to the side. He didn't say anything else.

Tabasa tightened his grip around his elbow. "Okay, well... Never mind that, there's something that's been really bothering me... It's been bothering me a whole lot. Do you think you'd try to attack me again?"

Russell didn't look at him. His tone of voice was low and subdued when he answered that he didn't think he would. It was always low and subdued, and he was short, skinny as a twig, unemotional. It was such a contrast to the violence he'd displayed that day. Tabasa probably wouldn't have believed this kid capable of breaking anyone's arm had he not experienced it firsthand.

"Listen, Russell... I'd rather you not try to kill me, right, I think that's pretty understandable. How can you be so unsure that you won't?"

Russell shrugged again. Tabasa was a patient man but even he was beginning to feel frustrated by the lack of clear communication. He didn't even know how he was talking so easily about getting killed when he still had nightmares of that happening, or how he even had the courage to be this close to Russell after everything, but Tabasa desperately needed to make sure that he wouldn't be put in that vulnerable position again. He wanted Russell to act normally just so he could reassure himself that Russell was a human boy who could be reasoned with, not some unpredictable being who'd try to maul him as soon as he let his guard down. He didn't know how to make sure.

"Russell."

The boy lifted his face and Tabasa scrutinized it. Russell's eyes were just as dull as they'd always been. There wasn't anything in there, not a flicker of self-awareness, not a hint of regret. Heck, Tabasa even would've been happy to find something more worrying like satisfaction or malice, because at least it would've given him an inkling of what was happening in Russell's head. But there was nothing there. Russell just didn't look like he cared. It was like talking to someone who was there-but-not-quite. Something was awfully wrong with Russell, and at this point it wasn't just about Tabasa anymore. There was a real possibility that Russell could snap again and who knew who else would get hurt when that happened.

Tabasa tensely asked: "Have you ever hurt anyone else...?"

Russell said no, this was the first time he'd wanted to do that to anyone. Tabasa hoped he was telling the truth. If so, then maybe Russell wasn't completely hopeless.

"Okay... Okay. Do your parents live around here?"

Something flickered in Russell's gaze for the first time at the mention of his parents, there and gone. Tabasa was unable to tell what it was and he took another step back, just to be cautious. Russell asked what did it matter if they lived close or not.

"I think... I should talk to them."

Russell shook his head in categorical refusal. No.

"Why?"

Russell didn't move. Tabasa ran a his hand through his black hair, beneath the hood, and sighed. He didn't know what to do about this. This wasn't even supposed to be his responsibility but he couldn't walk away from this with a clear conscience. He wished he knew what was wrong with the kid. Maybe the supervisor knew?

"Do you have any friends?"

One, mumbled Russell. Tabasa couldn't imagine what kind of friend this kid hung out with. And only one? It sounded suspicious.

"A classmate?" ventured Tabasa, and he was surprised when Russell nodded. "Why don't you have any other friends?"

Russell said, in a tone that indicated it should've been fairly obvious to Tabasa already, that people as a rule didn't really like him. And why did he even care?

Tabasa shuffled on the spot. "I just... I just think you need help, Russell... There's something going on with you."

Russell suddenly got up, turned around, said he didn't need help and asked him to go.

Tabasa had nervously backed away when Russell had moved, but he wasn't satisfied by their conversation and it didn't feel like the right choice to leave now. "Did I upset you?"

Russell ignored him and went back to his task.

"...Okay, well... I'm still going to ask for a spare hat. It's better if you don't catch a cold because of work, right?"

Tabasa didn't get an answer, so he edged away from the boy and only turned his back on him once he'd reached his buckets of food. Then he hurried off to finish this part of his work before he'd go get that spare hat, determined to have a chat with the supervisor while he was at it.

"It's not really our job to know about the kid's mental health problems, Mister McNeil," she told him when he found her in her office. "But I imagine that if he'd been assessed and they'd found something worrying then he wouldn't be working here with maintenance tools, now would he?"

Tabasa fidgeted with his hair ornament. "They didn't say anything about that? They don't think he could try to hurt someone again?"

Her gaze softened a bit. "Listen, I know it was difficult for you to end up with a broken arm and I know he's a bit weird, but he's almost done with his time here and then he's off our hands. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

"That's what I'm worried about," mumbled Tabasa.

"What do you mean?"

Not for the first time, Tabasa sort of wished he'd told the truth about how brutal the attack really had been. He only had himself to blame for being such a sucker. People always told him he was too soft. Still, he would've liked to share his full concern with someone.

"...Nothing. Do we have any spare hats his size? He might catch a cold in this weather..."

"Do you think he needs one? He hasn't asked for it."

"I don't think he's going to, but given the weather, you know... Just to make sure."

"You're right. I'll look into it, thank you for informing me."

"You're welcome."

Tabasa left, still unsettled, but he tried to accept the supervisor's reasoning. It was true that no matter the circumstances, surely an assault that had resulted in a broken arm would have lead to an evaluation of the culprit's mental state. If the chain of people implicated in Russell's case had deemed that it was safe for him to do this kind of community service, then maybe it was just Tabasa who was worrying too much.

He saw Russell wearing a red hat the next week just as he was reaching the Little Farm. He didn't know if it was the zoo's, and he didn't think to ask, because what truly confounded him was that Russell had clearly abandoned his post to go crouch in front of the rabbit pens. The kid was a hard worker when it came to completing his tasks and Tabasa hadn't heard of Russell getting caught slacking off quite this obviously before, even if everyone knew that he chose to look at the animals during his small pauses. He slowed down as he came closer, quieting his steps.

Unlike many other kids Tabasa had seen visiting Little Farm, Russell was keeping his hands to himself, but it was clear even from where Tabasa stood that he was staring at the rabbits with the same fascination as any kid his age. It was like Russell was just another teenage visitor wishing he had a pet rabbit of his own at home. The scene was so... normal.

"Are rabbits your favorite animal?"

Russell startled and whipped around, and Tabasa felt a tiny sliver of childish vindication to be the one to take the boy by surprise. Russell quickly got up without a word and started walking back towards the rake he'd left lying in his pile of dead brown and black leaves with hunched shoulders.

"Hey," Tabasa called after him, "don't worry, I'm not telling anyone."

Russell stilled and looked over his shoulder. Tabasa gestured to the rabbits with a smile that was only half-forced. A part of him was still very wary of the boy but the other was genuinely amused to note that Russell had tried to pretend that nothing had happened.

"So, your favorite animals?" Tabasa asked again.

Russell remained immobile for a brief moment and then turned around to face him fully. His expression was neutral, as usual, but Tabasa thought he might've detected a hint of uncertainty in his body language. His blue gaze flickered between Tabasa and the rabbits. He still didn't say anything.

Tabasa raised his hands. "Look... I promise you're not in trouble. I'm just asking because I'm curious. If you don't want to answer, that's fine too."

Russell's gaze drifted to the cages again and rested on one of the rabbits. The white one, noticed Tabasa, the one kids liked to call Snowball. The one that was a bit fat and didn't do much except twitch its nose and eat. Russell's pale lips finally moved: he did like rabbits the best.

"Have you ever had one as a pet?"

The boy nodded. He had, once, but it had been killed by a car. Tabasa winced internally.

"Oh... Poor rabbit... I'm sorry."

It was getting cold, standing here, not doing anything except talking. Tabasa shivered and put down the hay bundles he was carrying so that he could rub his hands together to warm them up. He'd forgotten his gloves on his desk. One day you're going to forget your head, he remembered his mom telling him when he was a kid. Well, some things never changed.

"I know how bad it feels, you know... It happened to me when I was a kid."

Russell looked at him.

"I had a cat," said Tabasa. "She had a litter. One of the kittens died the same way your pet rabbit did... I couldn't do anything." He could see he'd caught Russell's interest since the kid was still listening. He continued talking. "I wish I could've stopped the car and I wish I could've picked up that kitten before it walked out of the house. I'm the one who forgot to close the door so it was my fault... I still feel sad when I think about it, even if it was years ago."

Russell brought his sleeve up to rub at his pink nose. He didn't miss his pet rabbit. It was dead, and there was no point in missing a dead thing.

Tabasa crossed his arms over his chest, feeling uneasy again. "But didn't you care about it when it was alive?"

Russell nodded, yes, he had cared for that bunny. Somehow his answer made Tabasa more relieved than anything had in the last weeks. He almost wanted to insist that Russell did miss his pet rabbit, it felt that way even if Russell wasn't very expressive because of the way he talked about it; but it would probably be pointless. Instead, Tabasa focused on the fact that they were having a pretty normal conversation all things considered. That was good, right? It had to mean something.

"... We should talk more often," suggested Tabasa. "I think... Maybe, if you're okay with this, we could get to know each other."

Russell didn't answer.

"I'd like to trust that you won't hurt me again."

Russell said he really didn't think he'd try to hurt Tabasa, since he hadn't felt like it again ever since then.

"Yes, but you're not really giving me any real reason to believe that... Maybe I'll feel better if we become friendlier with each other. What do you think?"

Russell said that he didn't know what to think.

"Well, I think it would also be good if you had someone else to talk to aside from your one friend." Tabasa was still of the opinion that it wouldn't hurt Russell to have more than a single person to use as reference. Maybe this classmate of his was the one who'd shown him how to bash someone's head in with an iron pipe. "...What's his name, by the way? You didn't tell me the last time."

Russell also crossed his arms like he was getting cold, and said: Chris.

"All right. I think we should get back to work now, but... maybe we could talk like this again."

Maybe, said Russell, but he really didn't sound convinced.

"Okay... Well, good luck with work. I'll see you around then."

Russell nodded and left.

Tabasa honestly didn't know if he still felt as frightened as before, or if this worrisome feeling was more out of concern for what would happen in Russell's future. It was hard to be certain when he was saying the right things and whether he was getting to him or not because of the boy's lack of emotional response, but Tabasa thought that he was sort of getting the hang of it. What he was absolutely certain of was that Russell would benefit from some kind of psychological help, but Tabasa was no expert on this matter, and it wasn't like he could drag Russell to a professional anyway. It wasn't his place to do this. He had no right to contact the boy's parents, either, not for something like this.

For now all he could do was try to improve the communication between them. The reassuring elements were that Russell did know right from wrong, and he also liked animals, except for monkeys. It wasn't much to go off of but Tabasa would take what he could to reassure himself.

Chapter Text

Russell had a home, but really, it was just a roof over his head. His parents always seemed to forget their bills. The pieces of paper were always hung up haphazardly on the kitchen wall as if they weren't important. The refrigerator was big, the kind every family used, but it was practically empty. The living room had a filthy sofa, a table covered in crumpled newspapers and empty beer bottles, dirty walls, the constant nauseous smell of beer and a TV that his father left on throughout the night whenever he slept there. There was the messy bathroom which had a musty smell, where the shower was hidden behind a moldy curtain and the sink had long lost its clean white color.

Russell didn't have a room. The bathroom was the only place where he could have a tiny bit of privacy. He hid his diary there, in a drawer no one besides himself ever opened.

Russell played games when his parents weren't home. Games helped him forget everything, just like books did. Russell often thought that if he could have a very long dream, he'd want to visit that kind of world. He'd step out of his life and into these stories in a heartbeat if only he could do that. He wasn't particularly attached to his own reality. He didn't care about his parents and they didn't care about him. He didn't know what 'caring for family' felt like. All he knew was that when they were home, he had to try and stay out of their way, so he'd often leave the house and go to his usual hang-out spots like today.

"The zookeeper wants to be your friend? That's kinda weird. Then again, you do like animals... So I kinda get why the guy could be your friend after all." Chris sat up to look at Russell. "Still find it suspicious, though, I mean it ain't like he got a reason for being your pal. You should be careful."

The two boys were sitting in Chris' dreary little room. There were only the two of them there, since his mom wasn't home. Russell remained silent. He hadn't felt like attacking the zookeeper ever since the first time. Maybe it really had been because of the monkeys.

He still felt the same apprehension towards the strange feelings that had sprouted when he'd talked with Tabasa again the other day. The zookeeper had been afraid of him the whole time. Despite this, he'd also tried to talk with him like a normal person. Russell was confused as to why. On top of this, it was Tabasa who'd told the supervisor to bring Russell that warm hat. It was thanks to Tabasa that Russell was less cold when he worked, now, though the man had seemed so cautious to stand even several feet away from him. It didn't make a lot of sense to him why the zookeeper had come to speak calmly with him, and even less why he'd actually asked for the hat in Russell's stead.

Tabasa's nice voice, his sincere face, and his earnest words were perplexing. It wasn't a bad thing but Russell still didn't understand why the zookeeper would want to know anything about him given the circumstances in which they'd met. Tabasa had suggested that they could try to get along, but Russell didn't know what to make of that. He was sure that people who'd been hurt by someone weren't supposed to act like this with the one who'd hurt them.

Not many people cared to get along with Russell.

There was Chris, who handled the bad things in his life with a similar brand of nonchalance as Russell. Chris wasn't indifferent to his own plights, not completely, not the way Russell was to his; but they understood each other. They were linked by the unspoken deal that in exchange of Russell's help selling drugs, Chris gave him a place to hide out when things got hairy at home.

There was Mireille, the soft-spoken nurse with vivid green eyes and light salmon-colored hair who helped him at the hospital's backdoor when he got hurt and needed secret medical treatment. She was never too pushy about his injuries and was always eager to talk about her own life. Russell would indulge her, because he figured it didn't cost him much to lend an ear in exchange for her help. She didn't even notice that he didn't care. She was timid around others, but with Russell she had a lesser tendency to stumble on her words because it was easier when she spoke to someone younger than her.

There was Officer Bombers, the loud and cheery police officer who worked the night shift and sometimes caught him walking the streets too late at night during her patrols. Luckily she hadn't been there on the day Officer Gennings had brought him in. Russell hadn't really wanted her to know, because Officer Bombers always said that he was a good kid deep down and that he just wasn't good at showing it.

And there was Kantera, the calm doctor from another country who lived in his little red shop, always sharing stories about his homeland as well as the good food he made using his own personal recipes.

The only one of them he saw regularly was Chris. Mireille, Officer Bombers, and Kantera may have been adults that he liked, they weren't friends, and they weren't individuals he met all the time. The people Russell lived with and encountered every day either didn't pay attention to him because of his quiet personality or simply despised him because he behaved too oddly for them. This was normal for Russell. It was his everyday life. So it disturbed him that an adult, that he'd wronged, would still try to care about him like this.

Russell generally didn't like adults, save for the three that were well-meaning towards him. Adults kept repeating the same things over and over with a very strict vision of the world that younger people had to agree with, and when children argued with them, they became disproportionately angry. Adults always thought they were better than him just because they were older and stronger. So many of them were filthy, twisted, manipulative, hypocrites. He stared at them with the same spite they showed him and often got in trouble for it.

Tabasa was... his own category. He seemed well-meaning but it made no sense why he was that way towards Russell, unlike Mireille and Officer Bombers and Kantera who he'd never tried to hurt. Russell may have been an odd kid, but Tabasa was an odd adult. His gaze was never hard when it was on Russell. Sometimes his blue eyes looked pensive, as if he knew a secret about Russell that he didn't want to share, which was unsettling but Tabasa's way of doing it never made it feel like an actually bad thing. And then there was the fact that Tabasa was a zookeeper. He liked animals too. Russell had seen his expression when he was tending to the monkeys and the rabbits, like he was petting them with his gaze, and it was an expression adults usually didn't wear around Russell.

Chris was right, though. Even if Tabasa seemed like he could be one of the good adults, Russell hadn't known him long enough to be certain. He looked over at his friend and nodded to show that he knew he had to stay careful.

"I don't get how you guys talked in the first place, ain't like you're super friendly," observed Chris.

Russell shrugged. The zookeeper had been the one to approach him, they'd talked about animals, they'd gone to feed them. That was it.

Chris frowned. "He's the one who talked to you first? Really, man, you need to watch out. How old is he?"

Russell guessed that Tabasa was probably in his twenties.

"Oh, so he's still pretty young then. Not like that other creepy dude with the candy. Still, don't get yourself in any... You know. Just watch out."

Russell nodded again.

On Thursday, Russell came to the zoo early so that he could talk to Tabasa before starting his community service hours. It didn't take long for him to find the zookeeper, who was standing in a paddock behind some metal wiring. The green hooded coat exerted a strange pull on Russell. He didn't hesitate when he walked up to the man and called his name. Tabasa whirled around with wide eyes, but his startled expression faded away after a beat.

"Oh, Russell. Hey there."

Russell nodded quietly, then looked over at the animal Tabasa was tending to.

Bat-eared fox
Geographical range: Eastern and Southern Africa
Habitat: Dry grasslands
Scientific name: Otocyon megalotis

"I'm almost done with these little guys. ...Just wait a bit."

Tabasa finished emptying the brownish contents of his bucket to the side, and some of it splashed over the his boots but he didn't seem to mind. The zookeeper shook it clean of the last droplets before he opened the paddock and stepped out. Russell asked him what he was doing. Tabasa showed him the empty bucket.

"Cleaning this out. By the way, Russell... You really need to stop sneaking up on me like that. I might end up getting a heart attack."

Russell flatly apologized.

Tabasa looked away with a nervous twitch of the lips. "I can't tell if you're being sincere or not... I'll just choose to believe that you are."

Russell didn't know what to say to that.

Tabasa started walking along the wall. "Did you need anything?"

Russell shrugged.

"So... what's up?"

Russell didn't answer and kept following him. He didn't actually know what he'd been trying to achieve by seeking out Tabasa today. Yes, he'd wanted to talk, but he hadn't really thought it through. What had he wanted to say to Tabasa, exactly?

"...Russell, you're making me nervous. Say something..."

Russell looked up and realized that Tabasa was staring at him with something akin to worry in his eyes. Tabasa still seemed scared of him, even though he'd said that he wanted them to try and be friends. Russell asked him if he was scared.

Tabasa averted his gaze. "Well..."

Russell waited for him to continue but Tabasa fell silent. He looked fidgety. Russell didn't know what to make of it. He found it strange that an adult would be scared of him, even if he knew that what he'd done to Tabasa justified this kind of anxious behaviour. He didn't feel like hurting Tabasa anymore at all. He wondered if it had been a one-time thing. He'd never felt that urge before and hadn't felt it since. Eventually, after several long seconds of silence, Russell told Tabasa that he was sorry. Tabasa gazed at him again and it looked like he didn't know what to say.

"Well... It's okay if you don't want to talk, just... Tell me if you don't want to, next time."

Russell told him that wasn't what he was apologizing for.

"Oh. ...I see."

They both fell silent until they reached the next cage. There, Tabasa stopped to face Russell.

"Do you mean it this time? Do you actually feel sorry for what you did to me?"

Russell wasn't sure if sorry was what he felt, but he did feel like he shouldn't have tried to hurt someone like Tabasa, who hadn't done anything to him in the first place. Apologizing again felt like the right thing to do.

"...Okay," said Tabasa without insisting. Russell wondered if it would be enough to make Tabasa less afraid of him. It was time to start working, so he said good-bye and went to find his supervisor.

Chapter Text

A year before Russell had gone to the zoo and met Tabasa, Chris had told Russell about a new shop opening east of here.

"Heard not many people want to go to his shop, 'cause it's got weird plants and stuff. He's not from around here at all, and he acts weird too. I dunno, I haven't gone there for myself."

Russell had leaned on his elbow. What kind of place did the shop owner come from?

"Well, from what I've heard, he's from another country."

Russell had looked away, and he hadn't answered. How strange.

Russell wondered what it was like to come from another country. He wondered why someone would want to leave their home and travel to another part of the world. He wondered why he never thought of doing the same. Would it change anything to the way his life was if he knew no one?

He was curious to see what the new shop and its inhabitant looked like, so he went to the eastern part of the town to see. It didn't take long to find the new shop. It didn't look new. It was a bit shabby, and when Russell peered inside, it seemed smaller than looked on the outside. However, there was no doubt that this was the shop Chris had told him about: strange black signs were drawn along its walls, the inside was a bright lacquered red, and there was a painting hanging behind the glass door which Russell contemplated for a while. It looked like a green snake with a big, strong head, whiskers, and its mouth was open in a roar which unveiled two rows of sharp teeth. Its eyes were black and intense, and Russell felt like they were alive: when he leaned to the side, he was under the impression that the eyes followed him. The strange animal intrigued him.

He pushed the door open and heard a few light musical notes coming from above. He tilted his head back and noticed the flowered lanterns along the ceiling and the wooden chimes hanging over the door, and then he looked back down when he heard a deep, soft voice ahead of him.

"Hello, little one. What brings you along?"

There was a man at the counter at the end of the shop. Russell let go of the door and started walking towards him as it closed behind him. The man looked young, in spite of his gray hair, and he was wearing clothes that Russell thought looked like some kind of robe. It was a simple piece of clothing, gray in color as well, with a wide sash around the man's waist.

Russell stopped in front of the counter covered in a green tapestry and said he'd heard about the shop thanks to a friend.

"... I see, I see. Were you curious, perhaps?"

Russell nodded, and the man smiled gently. Russell observed that his eyes were slanted. The boy didn't know anyone else with slanted eyes and he'd never met anyone with dark red irises like this before.

"Then please, do sate your curiosity. What was it that you meant to ask?"

Russell looked beyond the man, where a green curtain hung at the back of the shop, then his gaze swept over the shop. Next to the counter, there was a low table in lacquered wood, and all around the shop he could see wooden boxes, plants and paper scrolls sitting on shelves, drawers, and red panels hanging from the walls with white signs on them. Unknown, peculiar scents saturated the air, and there were a lot of white pots and paper bags on the racks as well. He turned back to the man and asked what he was selling.

"Ah, well, I am a doctor. I sell many plants and herbal medicines to cure others' ailments."

Russell asked what ailments were.

"Why, ailments are troubles of health. There are many different recipes for many different cures, and I happen to have plenty of them."

Recipes? What kind of recipes?

"They are recipes from my homeland. If you feel tired, if you feel cold, if you feel sick... I have what you need, you see."

Russell asked what his homeland was.

"Do you know about the distant eastern lands? That is where I come from. The eastern land called Japan."

Russell asked about the strange animal in the painting.

"That strange animal, as you say, is a dragon. I do not doubt that your dragons are different, but that is what they look like where I come from."

Russell nodded slowly. How interesting. A dragon without wings... Could they fly?

"Why, yes, of course they can fly! They do not need wings to do so. Our dragons can glide with the wind and the clouds." When the man noticed that the boy wasn't going to ask anything else, he added: "Oh, yes, little one, could you please tell me your name? I would indeed love to know who it is I am talking to."

Russell answered, and the man tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Russell, is it... I see, I see. My name is Kantera. Now, Russell, you seem curious enough about me and about my shop. If you'd like, you could help me with it. I do like some company, and if you'd like, I could tell you more about my country. What do you say?"

Russell couldn't deny he was interested, but this was a bit sudden. The doctor noticed his hesitation.

"Now, now," he said with a smile, "You don't have to come all the time. You can come whenever you feel like it."

Russell shrugged. Maybe.

"If you have the time, we can talk a bit more." Then his eyes widened and he exclaimed: "Oh! I wonder, would you like to try some food from my country?"

The doctor didn't wait for his answer and disappeared behind the curtain at the back of the store.
Russell was curious about what the doctor wanted to show him, so he didn't leave just yet. Instead, he started walking around the shop. After taking a closer look, he noticed that most of the wooden boxes were locked, but he could sometimes see a piece of leaf or stem peeking out. He stepped up to one of the shelves which carried many white pots, and he tipped one over. There were little brown round pellets in it, and they made little clicking sounds as they hit the sides of the pot.
There were also wads of sprigs next to it, and in one of the bigger white pots, he found some kind of honey-smelling powder. The smell made him a bit dizzy, so he put the pot back where it was.

He heard footsteps nearing the shelf he was standing beside of, and the man appeared holding something plump and white in one hand. It seemed to be warm, as steam was rising off of it.

"You're very thorough when you're curious, aren't you?" said the man with an observant smile.

Russell looked at the object in his hand and asked what it was. The man looked down at the little white ball resting on a napkin in his hand.

"Ah, this is a manjuu. It is a very common treat in my country, and I daresay, the best medicine when it comes to feeling better."

He handed the manjuu to the boy, who shook his head. He didn't need to feel better.

"Come now, Russell," chided the man. "I'm not blind. You look like you could use a little something to cheer you up."

Russell didn't know what to answer, and the manjuu smelled very good, so he ended up holding out his hand. Kantera let him take it, and it felt just right in his hands: soft, plump, supple, and warm. As he ate the tasty treat - there was meat inside, and it was a little sweet - he watched as the doctor checked the pot he'd been looking inside of earlier. Then Kantera closed the pot and turned to Russell.

"Be careful, Russell, not all that I sell is completely harmless. This powder smells sweet, but it is a powerful medicine."

Russell swallowed his mouthful and asked what is was for.

"It helps induce sleep. It is made from a flower called the Yama-Basho, and I have some raw materials in the warehouse. I should warn you, however, never touch the raw flower."

Why?

"It gives... strong hallucinations to the one who handles it without care."

Russell took another bite of his manjuu and nodded.

Then Kantera asked him if he wanted to know more about the things he sold, and Russell said yes. He spent another hour with the man and learned many things about the doctor, like the fact that his dark robe was actually called a kimono, and was traditional japanese styled clothing, as were his shoes. He also learned that the pretty red flowers on each side of the counter were called Higanbana flowers, or red spider lilies: they were flowers that were brought to funerals and graves, and were consequently called death flowers in Japan. When Russell asked why the doctor kept those flowers here, Kantera told him that those were a constant reminder of how easy it was to die.

"After all, aren't they beautiful?" he added with a gentle smile, staring at the flowers with an undescribable expression.

And after that, Kantera asked him if it was all right for him to stay so late after school. Russell noticed it was almost past the time his father tolerated, so he picked up his bag and bid the doctor goodbye. Kantera told him he could come anytime. Russell didn't forget, and so the doctor's shop became a place for him to go when he didn't know where else to settle down, just like the pier at the puddle apartments.

There was something about Kantera that made him want to go to the shop, even if he didn't know what. Kantera was a strange adult. He had gentle manners, slow movements which were always meaningful, and had the same way of speaking as an old man. Russell was intrigued by this person.

Sometimes they drank tea together. Sometimes, the doctor asked him to help pick herbs. There were even a few times when Russell stayed the night, for special occasions like japanese festivals, which Kantera told him were called matsuri. On the date of the Hanami festival, or Cherry Blossom Festival, he brought Russell along to eat a picnic with him outside. It had been on a warm April evening, and they'd sat along a road with a few trees. The doctor had seemed a bit wistful, although he still smiled happily.

"These trees... Not quite as beautiful as the cherry blossoms, but they will have to do."

Then he'd looked down at the boy at his side and handed him a flower-shaped treat.

"This is Hanami Dango. It is no secret that you very much appreciate dumplings, so I think you will like it."

Russell had been surprised by the sweet taste of the dango, but he'd immediately taken a liking to it.

On the date of the New Year festival, Kantera made him taste traditional noodles called toshikoshisoba (a word which Russell had the hardest time to pronounce), and drink spiced wine. He also showed him spinning tops, kites and cards that were used to play games in the New Year festival. He brought out one of his old festival lanterns so that Russell could see one.

Kantera would tell him that those festivals were usually celebrated with family members, and that he used to do so all the time with his grandfather. The doctor often talked about his grandfather, and he obviously greatly respected the man. He told Russell about his land's culture, their way of life. About buddhism, and about the small scroll at the back of his shop which said namu-amida-butsu and meant "praise Amida Buddha". After a few months of this, Kantera also started telling him more about Higanbana flowers. This lead to discussions about afterlife, and how the Eastern populations viewed it.

There were flowers.
Souls of the dead marched in a procession under a silent sunset.

There were bones.
Bones were kept in cinerariums.

There was fire.
Bodies were burned in crematoriums.

Silky bones danced with a snapping in crackling flames.

Once, Russell visited such a place as he slept. There were shadows of fish floating around, because fish kept their eyes open even in death. Soft chimes rang out, sounding just like the ones in Kantera's shop. It was dark, and it was a bit hard to breathe, but it was peaceful. Russell thought that it was as close of a dream as he'd ever get.

Chapter Text

There weren't many good reasons for not attending community service work and Russell had thought that this meant he would be allowed three months of respite at home. He should've known better.

It was Monday and his dad was in a particularly foul mood, Russell could tell from his constant cussing at the TV about meaningless things and the number of beers he'd downed in only two hours. He'd decided to lay low for the first part of the evening but the tension had continued climbing and Russell knew that it would soon reach a breaking point. He didn't want to be around for it.

Dad normally didn't care if Russell was at home or not. He could spend the night elsewhere and neither of his parents would notice or care. His dad only noticed Russell's presence if he came back home late, and in general it was another excuse to hit him; but Russell rarely got held back when he left at 7PM without saying where he was going. Today, however, his dad was on edge.

Maybe it had been a hard day at work, maybe he'd gotten angry at someone, maybe Mom had refused him something, maybe he'd finally realized how worthless he was; a lot of things could've gone wrong. Whatever the reason, it lead to the moment when he asked Russell just as he was going to walk out the door: "Where do you think you're going?"

Russell froze. This wasn't good. It was never good when he got noticed. Russell slowly spun around and told him that he was just going to see a friend. Dad's face twisted in anger. There was no other warning before his hand clenched around his beer bottle and swung it at Russell, who immediately threw up his arms to protect his face and ducked down. The bottle smashed against the wall next to his head and pieces flew everywhere. Beer splashed over Russell's hair and clothes. The cold wetness seeping through to his skin was all he felt at first, and then he noticed the stinging line across his face, and then it started to burn.

Russell jumped up and the door slammed open when he fled out of the house, half of his vision gone blurry, unable to tell just how damaged his throbbing eye was.

It was late and night fell early in the beginning of winter. Russell ran blindly through the dark streets. He knew he was panicking badly, but he couldn't stop, because he didn't know how much of his impaired vision was the tears and how much of it was the glass. There was blood on the hand he'd used to touch the burning spot on his face and the streetlamps gave it a grisly shine. Maybe he was losing his eye. Russell's breath shuddered in his throat. He had to get help. He thought of Chris and his mom but they'd have to pay the bill if he got taken to the hospital and they couldn't afford something like this. He had to find Mireille, or- What if Kantera was still up?

He stumbled across a group of drunk college students in one of the streets and they noticed right away that he was bleeding, and someone grabbed him just as he was going to try to run in the opposite direction. It took Russell a second to realize that the loud voices around him were asking if he was okay and what had happened to him. He was too shaken to answer. They decided that the two least drunk students of the group- a couple- would give him a ride to the hospital. Russell didn't know what to do anymore so he just let them.

Mireille wasn't there. Of course, he should've known, she'd told him that she very rarely did night shifts. He didn't know why he'd thought that she'd be there. The couple didn't stick around so Russell ended up spending a few hours at the ER alone because he didn't want to disturb anyone and most definitely didn't want to call his dad. When asked what had happened, he answered that a drunk homeless man had thrown a beer bottle at him and that he didn't remember what he'd looked like. The doctor at the ER told him that he'd been lucky because the glass shard had only cut the lower part of his brow, which Russell understood meant "a little lower and you would've gone blind." Russell briefly wondered if his parents would've cared if he'd only had one eye left because of this, but of course they wouldn't have. He was given four stitches, an eyepatch, and a prescription for everything he needed to avoid an infection.

They did call his dad eventually, because he'd been hospitalized here before and the phone number was in his record. Dad said he couldn't come get him tonight. The doctor refused to let Russell go back home alone in the middle of the night, so in the end he had to spend the whole night in the ER for his dad to come fetch him in the morning. At least the hospital food was good. Or maybe he was just hungry.

When his father finally showed up, Russell got yelled at in the car on the way back for going to the hospital. Dad hated when he went to see doctors and always accused him of wanting to land both his parents in jail. Russell stayed silent during the whole ride and got cuffed in the head when his dad estimated that this meant he was ignoring him. It wasn't true, Russell just never knew when he was allowed to talk or not.

Russell didn't know if this qualified as a big enough problem to not go to work, so he went to the zoo anyway, just in case. He didn't want to get in trouble with his Youth Justice officer. He was allowed to go past the Welcome Desk and went straight to his supervisor's office as usual, except this time when he knocked on the door and she told him to come in, Miss Febe didn't start giving him his list of tasks right away. She frowned at him.

"What happened to your eye?"

Russell almost touched the eye patch but then remembered what the doctor had said about that and kept his fingers away from it. He told her the exact same thing he'd told the doctor at the ER.

Miss Febe continued frowning. "Do you have a medical certificate?"

Russell nodded and stepped up to the desk to give her the folded paper in his pocket. She glanced at it and handed it back to him.

"All right. I don't feel confident about letting you handle the usual work when you can only see out of one eye, so let me call your officer first."

Russell nodded and waited. Miss Febe got a hold of his Youth Justice officer, and after a few minutes of having Russell explain the exact nature of his injury and a back-and-forth between both adults, they decided that Russell would have to wait next week to continue his CSO hours.

"It's a shame, considering it was almost your last week," said Miss Febe. "But you'll still be done with it soon. You can leave, Mister Seager."

Russell left. He ignored the voice at the back of his head saying Tabasa won't even notice that you weren't there today. He didn't pay attention to it because he didn't care anyway. The week went by like usual. Chris told him he looked like a badass when they met up in class. "Like a pirate!" he exclaimed with a wink. Russell supposed it was a nice compliment. Pirates were pretty cool, after all.

Russell had recurring nightmares.

One of them was Poppy's death. It turned up a lot more often ever since they'd talked about his pet rabbit with Tabasa. He could never save her in his dreams because his dream self would always come to awareness already kneeling in the middle of the road, after the accident. Tire tracks. Dark asphalt. Red stains. He held the little ball of white fur in his hands. Blood poured down and down his hands and arms, each drop hitting the ground one by one, an inescapable echo.

Why is there so much blood?

Is Poppy okay?

Is she?

It always hurt but Russell never cried. He just watched, stunned and silent, his beloved rabbit's soft white fur slowly turn pink and then vivid red. The warmth of her small body slowly ebbed away. It glistened where the tire had crushed her open. He felt her life slipping through his fingers and there wasn't a single thing he could do to stop it. The rise and fall of Poppy's tiny chest slowed and weakened. She twitched. She stopped breathing.

I'm sorry.

The blood continued pooling all around him in a perfect circle.

I can't treat you dearly anymore.

It trickled down the road in a red, red line. He got up and followed it with Poppy's cold still body cradled close to his chest. His boots made light splishing noises wherever he walked. People stared at the bloody mess in his hands that had once been a rabbit. Poppy had loved to run in the grass, and Russell had loved to feed her thin little pieces of carrots, and her whiskers had tickled his palm. The people whispered poor thing, poor thing, poor thing all around him but they didn't stop walking, they didn't help, they just stared at the lifeless corpse in Russell's hands like it was a dirty thing.

When Russell woke up, he sometimes woke up with tears in his eyes. Other times he woke up hating his father because Poppy's death had not been a stranger's fault. He got over it, though, and he always got over it alone. No one was ever there to tell him everything would be fine, that he wasn't alone, that he'd be all right now. No one was ever there to give him a cup of water and stroke his hair until he fell asleep again. Russell didn't remember a time when there'd been someone to comfort him after a nightmare. As a small child, he'd learned to cope with them on his own.

The most recent nightmare was one where he stood frozen in the living room while a jagged piece of glass slowly inched closer to his face. He couldn't open his mouth to shout. He couldn't move to avoid it. He could only watch, and wait for it to be over.

Russell didn't get nice dreams. It seemed others usually had both. Maybe that was another sign that he wasn't normal.

When he returned to the zoo the next week, it was Tabasa who found him first and called out his name. Russell looked up from the bush he was tending to and the zookeeper stopped dead in his tracks.

"...Woah."

Russell knew his face made for an impressive sight. The sutures had been removed after a week but the bruising remained in shades of green and yellow, and the cut was still healing. He straightened all the way up as Tabasa frowned. "I was told you got into trouble, but I didn't think..." He trailed off, and then he stepped closer, the bags in his hands swaying with each step before he set them down at his sides. "...I was a bit worried. For you, I mean. It sounded like you ran into a nasty person from what Miss Febe told us... "

Something small, warm, and light blossomed in Russell's chest when heard those words. Tabasa was worried. The feeling felt nice, but then he pushed it deep down inside to study for later and told him that it had just been an accident. Tabasa got that strange pensive look on his face again.

"...Okay. Are you all right, though...?"

Russell didn't answer right away. Was he all right?

It was a good question. He hadn't really thought about how he felt after this whole incident, about whether he was okay or not, because he just didn't do that anymore. He knew, now that he'd had the time to recognize the emotion which had sent him in such a panic, that he'd felt scared of losing his eye. But he didn't feel any of it anymore; after all, it was over now. Russell looked up at the zookeeper and nodded. He was all right.

Tabasa didn't look convinced and he stared at Russell's face for a bit longer. Then he sighed, for some reason, and handed Russell one of the bags of carrots. "...Let's go take care of the rabbits in Little Farm. I'll pretend I was really really busy and needed the help, and I'll ask the supervisor to jot it down as a part of your tasks today. ...Okay?"

Russell accepted, not really sure why this seemed so important to him. Tabasa watched him take the carrots and then led him to the children's farm. They took care of the rabbits together without needing to speak, except when they focused on the big white rabbit because Tabasa had a story to tell about when Snowball had just been a tiny little bunny. When Russell was done and needed to go back to his regularly scheduled tasks, Tabasa grabbed the boy by the arm- gently, Russell noticed- and asked: "I've been thinking... This is your last week working here, right?"

Russell nodded.

Tabasa let go of him and his hand left a strangely empty sensation in the crook of Russell's elbow. "Do you think you could come back outside of your CSO...? Sorry if this sounds odd, I just... It feels like we're getting somewhere... You know?"

Russell thought that he could understand what the zookeeper meant by this, and he said he'd think about it.

Tabasa smiled at him for the first time since Russell had hurt him and said: "Okay."

Chapter Text

Russell became used to seeing Tabasa at least once a week even now that he was done with his community service order. He missed doing green space maintenance but he still liked going there for the animals and conversations with Tabasa. It was kind of pointless to go, ultimately, because of the long back and forth trips to the zoo and the entrance fees which were not that cheap. Russell probably should've been staying with Chris instead to spend the time. But each time he left the zoo telling himself it had been a waste of money, he never managed to convince himself to stay away.

He went there every Tuesday and Thursday, just like he had before. Tabasa's routine was always the same. At 3 PM, he'd be tending to the zebras, at 3:40 he'd reach the end of the Wild Lowlands, feeding the antelopes, and at 3:45 he'd be cleaning the rabbits' pens in Little Farm. They never went near Tabasa's office or the monkeys. Russell knew it would remind them both of the incident but he personally wouldn't have minded, which was why he suspected that Tabasa was avoiding it for his own sake. He probably disliked going there ever since Russell had attacked him. Russell wasn't bothered by the thought. It was Tabasa's problem, not his.

It felt nice, in a way, to have regular plans over the week aside from dealing drugs (which Chris had been very happy to see him pick back up) and going to church. Russell appreciated the fact that he could just watch the zookeeper work and Tabasa wouldn't push him to talk. When he did talk, Tabasa always seemed to be genuinely interested in what he had to say. It was different from Mireille who liked to talk about herself, from Officer Bombers who liked to crack jokes and didn't expect him to play along, and from Kantera who made conversation by answering Russell's questions. This felt more like talking to Chris, except that whereas Chris simply took whatever Russell spontaneously gave him, Tabasa seemed to expect Russell to share more about himself. It felt natural to do that.

Sometimes Russell did wonder about Tabasa's personal life, but he never told the zookeeper about it. He liked not knowing much about him. It meant that Russell didn't care about Tabasa. It was always a hassle to care.

"Gardenia... It kinda rolls off the tongue, don't it?"

Russell was pulled out of his thoughts by his friend's voice but didn't react. Chris turned to look at him. They were both lying on the ground with a pillow under their chests and the screen of Chris' busted gaming console illuminated his chin in blue light.

"Oh, c'mon, don't tell me you think she's ugly."

Gardenia was pretty, that was something Russell couldn't deny, but he didn't get what Chris was making such a fuss about.

"Dude, isn't there a girl you like?"

Russell shrugged.

"Tch, alright... You're no fun... I bet that's why you don't get it. But, listen, she's perfect!"

Russell was unconvinced. 'Perfect' sounded like a strong word to use to describe anyone.

"Well, I mean, no one ever invites me to their birthday party. Not even you!"

Russell looked back to console without answering. He didn't need to justify himself.

"But she's so nice she invited me personally!"

Russell didn't say anything. It wasn't like Chris had been the only one she'd talked to and invited. Gardenia acted like she cared individually for all her classmates, but in the end the only reason Russell and Chris had been invited was because she'd had to invite the whole class to be equally kind to everyone. Russell wasn't sure if Chris understood that. He looked estatic just thinking about his crush.

"And she's always dressed nice, and her hair is so soft and pretty, and man, her eyes, they're so beautiful... And have you noticed how sweet her perfume is? She smells like strawberries, man, effin' strawberries!"

Russell watched the character on the screen, who was just standing there with shoulders that gently bobbed up and down. Chris would tire himself out at one point if Russell let him talk on his own. Then he noticed that his friend had fallen silent. When he looked over, Chris was staring at him.

"I guess you haven't noticed, huh," he said.

Russell said he hadn't really cared to.

Chris' brow furrowed and he looked troubled. "Russ, do you ever even... Nevermind. You know, you oughta take advantage of your looks. Anyway, are you going? I hear she's really rich."

Russell thought that he wanted to go, out of curiosity. He'd heard the same about how Gardenia's father was a very important man and his family was one of the wealthiest around, not to mention that he was apparently really good at baking and cooking. Some kids were lucky. Russell felt a heavy weight in his chest at the thought, which he ignored. He propped his chin in his hand and asked Chris what he intended to do.

"I, uh... I'm not gonna go. I don't got any good clothes..."

Russell pointed out that he didn't either. The party wasn't going to be all suits and bowties.

"But she's rich, man... Her and her friends are probably gonna be all dressed up, nice and pretty and everythin'. I know I'm gonna look like a clown next to the other guys. Ain't no way around that."

Russel said that they would look like clowns together, then. It wasn't that big a deal. Chris and him always dressed more poorly than their classmates, and any calling out they'd be subjected to at the party, they would already have experienced anyway. Didn't Chris want to eat the good food? It would all be free, and it would all be stuff they never got to eat normally. Chris' lips slowly curled up and he finally grinned.

"Yeah, you're right. We're gonna eat like kings!"

Russell nodded, satisfied that he'd convinced Chris, and then he dropped his head completely in the bowl of his crossed arms. He closed his eyes. It happened, sometimes, that a wave of weariness suddenly crashed into him. His body felt a bit like it was aching everywhere.

"You tired?" asked Chris. "You know you can sleep here if you can't get enough sleep over at your folks'."

Russell said he was okay in a muffled voice. Chris probably didn't buy it, but he didn't insist. They continued playing and ate some more cheap snacks until it was time for Russell to go. He got up and thanked his friend for the potato chips.

"No problem. See you Saturday at Gardenia's, then?"

Russell nodded, went to grab his bag at the door, and left the house.

Gardenia's house was huge and clean on the outside as much as on the inside. There were bright-coloured balloons on the white picket fence to point out that there was a party going on here, orange, pink and yellow, and the very same ones in the house as well, hanging from the corners of the ceiling. There were fairy lights in the hall, and paper garlands which said "Happy Birthday" stretched between the walls, and the air was saturated with the sweet smells of cake, candle wax and strawberries. Gardenia's father was there, and he welcomed them with a warm smile before guiding them to the living room, where Gardenia and the rest of the class were. The table there was covered in presents.

Russell's face didn't show it, but he didn't think he liked any of it. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to come after all. There was that heavy, dirty weight in his chest again. He hadn't been feeling good since the moment he'd woken up and gotten out of bed that morning.

Gardenia noticed them walking in the room and she got up to greet them with sparkling eyes. She wasn't fazed by Russell's lack of emotion. Maybe she hadn't noticed, because she didn't linger on either of the boys and went back to her friends as quickly as she'd come. Russell was left just standing there next to Chris. When he turned to Chris, he noticed the pink tinge to his cheeks. His friend looked kind of stricken. He asked what was wrong. Chris looked at him.

"Dude. Gardenia talked to me, she said hi! She smiled at me!"

Russell stared at him. He knew that.

"Even though I'm not wearin' any fancy clothes!"

Yes, agreed Russell, though he wasn't quite sure where Chris was going with all this.

"Do you think she's okay with me being here?"

Russell said: probably.

"Oh, man, that's cool. That's really cool. Do you think maybe she remembers me from class? Like, in a good way?"

Russell had no clue. He didn't get what being noticed in a good way implied, and he didn't know if Chris had achieved that with Gardenia, but he did know that Chris and Gardenia never talked so chances were that Chris wasn't any closer to Gardenia now than he had been months ago.

"Oh," abruptly said Chris, staring at something behind Russell. He turned around and saw that one of the girls in the room, Melody, was giving them a look. It was a look the boys knew very well. Chris sighed. "Well, even if Gardenia's okay with us, her friends don't like us so..."

Russell continued staring at her and she proceeded to ignore them. He knew her and he knew her parents, because the look in her eyes was the same as the one her parents gave Russell when they came to pick up their daughter from school. Chris and him had a bad reputation, not to mention that their living conditions were looked down upon by some of the rich adults. Melody and her parents were part of those people who behaved like they were dirty or something. Russell shrugged and told Chris not to mind her.

"Yeah, you're right. She's a bitch."

Russell left soon after to go find the restroom. He didn't want to ask anybody for directions, since he really didn't feel like talking to anyone, so he traveled through the house on his own to find it. It was a house that belonged to wealthy people. It was wide, and bright, decorated and spotless. There were some paintings hanging on the walls, and when he climbed up the stairs leading to the upper floor, he noticed a vase of fresh pink flowers sitting on a small table in the hall. It reminded him of the time he'd brought flowers for his mother, when he still tried to be loved by her. She'd ignored him, so he'd set them down on the kitchen table. When he'd returned, they were gone. He'd caught a glimpse of their petals in the trash later that day. Russell looked away from the vase. Flowers would've made his home look a bit better, but they wouldn't have lasted long. No one would have cared for them.

He finally found the restroom. Even this place was neat and tidy, and there were even some sprigs of lavender hanging from a ribbon next to the sink. It smelled surprisingly nice. So restrooms could be a nice spot, too. Who knew. The blonde quickly finished washing his hands, knowing that Chris was waiting for him downstairs and surely feeling very out of place without him. Then he stepped out of the restroom. And that's when he saw her.

Gardenia.

She was standing on the top of the stairs, gazing down at the empty hallway below, and Russell stopped dead in his tracks. Her white hair flowed down her back, and Russell was briefly reminded of Chris' words.

She's perfect.

Yes, she was perfect. A perfect little girl with a perfect little dress, pretty shoes, clear blue eyes, a perfect little girl in a perfect house with perfect parents having a perfect birthday. Russell's jaw clenched. Why couldn't he have such nice things?

A sudden thought crossed his mind: it was his birthday today too. But no one was celebrating it. No one was celebrating, no one cared, because no one knew. Russell was pretty sure his own parents had long forgotten the date of his own birthday. No one was baking him a warm, delicious cake, there were no strawberries or cream for him, no balloons, no cards, no gifts, no nothing. It was all for her. It was all for Gardenia, for this blessed little girl.

A perfect, blessed little girl.

An angel.

Russell's feet began moving again, but his steps were quiet.

All of the beautiful, colourful balloons, there never were any at home. All the gifts he'd seen piled up high on the table downstairs, there would never ever be so many for him. The sweet smell of a birthday cake, he'd never smell it at home. The smiles, the laughter he could hear from down below the stairs, there were never any at home.

The happiness.
The joy.
Things he could never have, things he could never feel for himself.

The look Gardenia's dad gave her.
That look.
A look no one ever gave Russell.

Why did Gardenia have all those things for her birthday, when he had nothing?
Why was Gardenia allowed bliss, when he was not?
What did she have that he didn't?

Couldn't she just disappear? Then, maybe...

Russell just wanted her gone, her and all the things she possessed. He wanted her to stop reminding him that he'd never have this. He wanted a happy birthday too, why should she be the only one to have one? This angel. Could angels die? Angels could fly. She had to disappear. Maybe he could make her fly away. Fly away and die.

Gardenia had everyone.
Russell was alone.

Gardenia was beloved.
Russell was ignored.

People cared for Gardenia.
No one-

The boy stopped moving, his hand mere inches from the girl's back. Was he really uncared for? The image of Tabasa feeding the rabbits swam up to the surface. Tabasa cared, didn't he? Hadn't he said so? The slope Russell's mind had been rolling down screeched to a halt and he swayed with indecision atop the staircase. Would Tabasa still be there if Gardenia fell down the stairs? Would Tabasa stay by Russell's side if he killed someone?

"Gardenia! Come down!"

Russell jolted out of his thoughts when he heard a man's deep voice call out right below him and Gardenia. He noticed the girl jerk as well, as if waking from a dream, and he stumbled back.
She turned around when she heard the movement behind her and her gaze latched onto his. Then she reached out to him with an air of concern.

"Are you all right? Russell, right?" When he didn't answer, she added: "You look a bit pale."

He shook his head wordlessly. He'd hesitated. This doubt he'd just had... It wasn't like him. She should've died, but with Tabasa stuck in Russell's mind, it had been harder for Russell to go through with it. The girl smiled at him and grabbed his hand.

"Well if you're feeling okay... Let's go downstairs, dad probably wants us to go eat the cake."

He didn't resist her as she pulled him along.
Something was wrong with him.

Chapter Text

When Russell returned to the living room by Gardenia's side, he felt all the others' gazes on him, but he didn't heed the strange looks and the hushed whispering. He made a beeline for Chris, who was gawking at him like he'd suddenly turned into an alien. Russell was very troubled. What was it that had made him waver? What was it that had made him hesitate? Had it really been the thought of Tabasa? He usually wasn't one to hesitate or doubt, because he never cared about consequences. Yet this time, he'd cared about- No. No, it had to be something else. It couldn't be Tabasa. He didn't care about Tabasa.

"Dude."

Russell looked over at his friend, who was still ogling him with the same awe-stricken expression.

"Did you just get to talk with Gardenia? Like, talk to her alone, one on one, just the two of you?"

Russell nodded.

"I can't believe it. No way, no way. She's Gardenia, you can't just- Aw, man, I'm so jealous right now!"

Russell looked away. It wasn't such a big deal. Chris slapped the blonde's shoulder.

"Russell, you basically just talked with the cutest girl ever, it's a damn big deal! What's wrong with you man, don't you realize how cool this is? An' if you get to become friends with her, then I might get my chance to get to know 'er!"

She wasn't that special, mumbled Russell. Chris' eyes widened.

"Yeah she is, Russell, she's cute, she's rich, she's smart, what more do you want?"

Russell shook his head. He didn't want to answer anymore. He didn't want to talk. This whole thing, the birthday, talking with Gardenia, Chris acting so excited, thinking about Tabasa, Russell was getting tired of it all. He needed a break. He needed to get out. He needed to empty his head. He looked at Chris and told him he had to go. Chris frowned and put his hand on Russell's shoulder.

"Woah, man, you all right? You look real tired all of a sudden."

Russell shook his head again, telling him everything was fine, that he just needed some fresh air.

"Are you leaving? Cause if you are, I'm not going with you. This is my chance to get to know Gardenia, man, you understand."

Russell nodded. Sure, he understood. He wasn't asking Chris to leave with him. Chris let go of his shoulder, obviously relieved.

"Cool. Listen, man, I'll keep a piece of cake for you to bring back home so you can eat some. Okay?"

Russell shrugged. He was lying to himself when he said he didn't care much for that cake, because in truth, he was curious to know what a chef's birthday cake tasted like. However he didn't want to admit it. It was already too much realizing he wasn't as indifferent towards others as he thought.
Chris watched him closely, and it seemed like he understood something was wrong with his friend.

"Russ, you sure you're okay? On second thought, maybe you shouldn't leave alone. I'm comin' with you."

Russell refused, taking a step away from the brunette. It was fine, he assured his friend, everything was fine. Chris obviously still had his doubts, but when he also took a step to go with Russell, the blonde told him to stop following him. Chris did as he was told, but he said:

"You can go to my house even if I'm not there, okay? Mom's fine with it."

Russell nodded, and then he saw Gardenia drawing closer to the both of them, so he quickly turned on his heels and hurried to get out of the house before she could speak to them.

Russell already knew where he was going. He wasn't going to go to Chris' place, because if his mom was there she'd try to talk with him, but he was going to hang out on the docks. Staring at the water was always a good way to stop thinking. Waves were hypnotizing.

As he made his way back to the more desolate districts, thoughts swirled around in his head. There was nothing left of the ice-hot feeling that had edged him on at the top of the stairs to push Gardenia off. It was exactly like that time when he'd almost killed Tabasa, the feeling had come and now it was gone.

Russell tried to clear things up in his mind, but it was hard. Every time he thought he'd cornered his thoughts, another came tumbling down and made everything a mess. He'd wanted to kill Gardenia. Hate had flared up again, and he'd hated her, and her father, and everything in that house. Had Gardenia died, he would've felt exactly the same as he did now: he wouldn't have cared about her any more than he did now. The issue wasn't her dying or not. The issue was that Tabasa had an influence on the way Russell acted and thought.

It scared Russell, it scared him more than anything else.

He didn't want the mere thought of someone to change his mind. He wanted to choose the things he did without being disturbed by... what exactly was it that had made him stop? Had it been worry? He'd felt like his lungs had been slightly crushed for just a moment. Yes, he'd worried that he wouldn't see Tabasa anymore. That was the word. But why? If he'd pushed Gardenia off the stairs at the very moment he'd chosen to, no one would've known it was him. No one would've seen him. They would've thought she'd tripped. Tabasa wouldn't have known, so it wouldn't have changed anything about Russell's situation. It had been an irrational thought. Completely and utterly unfounded. Irrational thoughts didn't often happen to him.

Russell reached the apartment complex he secretly called "the puddle apartments". He'd met a young woman once, standing on the edge of the pier, her dress flapping in the wind. She was one of Chris' neighbours, although she'd never paid attention to Russell. She'd seemed sad and alone. He'd stood next to her to gaze at the waves, and she hadn't reacted to his presence. Even now, Russell didn't know what exactly had pushed him to step up to her. She'd been so lonely, just like him, and maybe he'd thought she was the same as he. She must've been ten years older than him.

They'd stood side by side, quietly.

And then she'd talked. She hadn't known him, and he hadn't known her, except for the few times he'd seen her across the street. She spoke- maybe to him, maybe to the water, maybe to the wind.

"This place is a puddle...

A gloomy,
ugly,
moldy,
lightless,
damp,
back-alley puddle...

That's what this place is."

And then she'd fallen silent. Russell hadn't answered. They'd stayed there for a while.

Eventually Russell had left her to go see Chris. When he'd come back two hours later, she was gone.
Just a few days after that, Chris told him a neighbour had found a body floating right underneath the edge of the pier. The stuff of nightmares, had said Chris. Russell had shrugged and hadn't said anything. He didn't have a name, didn't recall her face, but he didn't forget her. Russell remembered her dress and her puddle.

Chapter Text

Russell stayed on the pier for hours, letting the lazy ebbing of the water take his troubles away.

He stopped thinking about Chris. About Tabasa. About Gardenia. About his home. He let the waves' hypnotic back-and-forth invade his mind, and he let go of everything. He understood why the woman had jumped. It felt like the waves were calling out to him, and he knew that the woman had fallen in their embrace rather than jumped in the sea. Things probably hadn't been going well for her, as it went for many of the inhabitants here. Financial problems, adultery, power cuts, drugs... The woman had chosen the sea. Many others had chosen blades, rope or medicine. Russell knew that if he'd been normal, he would've been long gone by now. He could've given in and stopped living whenever, but the thing was, he didn't care enough to die. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it was a bad thing. He didn't mind it being either.

Night fell around Russell, so he got back on his feet and started heading home. All his thoughts had vanished and left him empty and impassive just the way he was supposed to be. He really didn't understand why all those things had been bothering him in the first place. It was clear to him now what he had to do: stop seeing Tabasa. That was the only way he could go back to the way he was before meeting Tabasa. It was the only way he could stop caring.

He walked along the pier until he turned to his right to follow the regular pattern of the lamposts along Chris' street. Their lights had been turned on for a while now and whenever he looked up, he could see tiny black dots dancing around each bright orb he walked under. The insects were hitting the glass with soft a pitter patter, and he was reminded of the way his classmates surrounded Gardenia. How pointless.

He passed by the panel which showed a pretty picture of neat, clean appartments in rows under a bright sun and which said:

WELC ME   O  THE  P DL     A PART NTS

The whole presentation was drowned under layers upon layers of graffiti, and the shapes and spaces left behind by original name PORTLY could now be imagined to say PEDDLE, POODLE and notably PUDDLE. Russell found it to be an interesting fate for the panel.

As he made his way across the town, Russell found himself shivering from the cold breeze blowing through his clothes. He hadn't thought of taking his jacket this morning, hadn't thought he'd be getting home this late, hadn't thought it would get so cold. He didn't know what time it was, but he had a fair idea of it. Not the time of night boys his age were supposed to be out walking in the streets. He sneezed and sniffled. He wasn't quite there yet, but he felt like he was about to catch a cold. He wasn't anywhere near his house, even if he tried to walk faster. His home may not have been the best place in the world, but it certainly was much warmer in there than outside. Russell was about to cross the road when he heard a woman's friendly Southern drawl.

"Well if it ain't the Seager boy!" He turned his head towards the familiar voice and watched as a blonde officer with warm blue eyes walked up to him. She added her signature greeting: "Howdy Russell!"

Officer Bombers, Russell answered while giving her a small nod of the head.

"Aw, don't be givin' me that Officer Bombers nonsense, boy," she answered brightly as she held out her hand for him to shake. "I told ya to call me Yumi before, right?"

Russell complied, and their powerful handshake was hers for the most part. He let go, his arm returning to his side, and the officer lady frowned.

"Yer hand's awfully cold, boy, what're you doin' out so late? Ya know I can't let you stay out here at this time of the night."

Oh, he knew. Of course he knew. It wasn't the first time his path crossed that of the beautiful officer, nor the last, and he knew that she wouldn't let him go freely now that she'd caught him. For some mysterious reason, it seemed she appreciated Russell despite his misdemeanors. She'd been there every time he and Chris had ended up in custody for some scuffle or another. When he was brought to the office alone, mostly because one of the officers would find him walking around town at night instead of being home with his parents, she always insisted to be the one to bring him back.

She was never threatening or cold in her way of treating him: she just laughed, called him a bad boy, and then they'd go to his house. She didn't behave like the other cops, and the boy often imagined her as a sheriff with a cowboy hat like in the books. Her accent stuck with that image just right. Russell had quickly found that he didn't mind her at all. She was an adult he didn't mind existing. She was nice and he didn't dislike her warm presence nor her friendly conversation. She was a bit like... Russell stopped himself from completing that thought.

"C'mon, Russell. Let's get ya home. And while we're at it, how 'bout we have a little chat about this thing I heard where ya got yourself in quite the trouble?" Russell looked up at her with wide eyes, but she just smiled. "That's right. You didn't think they'd snitch on ya, didja now? Nothing escapes me at the precinct, Seager boy."

Yumi put her hand on his shoulder and lightly guided him forward, and Russell let her. They both knew that she would be doing most of the talk on the way home, but that was fine. She didn't look angry or anything, at least.

There was only one thing Russell disliked about the officer lady seeing him home: the way his father looked at her whenever she was at the door. Dad would always push Russell inside without saying anything to him and start up a conversation with the officer lady, and Russell noticed every time the light in his eyes when he saw her. It was the light of a degenerate love, and Russell wondered if the lady noticed the same things Russell did. Those eyes... Those dirty, greedy, disgusting eyes. They were the same eyes his father had when he watched Mom moaning in the bedroom.

Dad was the one who asked Mom to prostitute herself, but he was also the one who asked the men to do those things to her. His father watched through the window. Russell had seen it. He didn't understand the desire he could read on all of their faces. He didn't understand what grown-ups could possibly see through their vile bloodshot eyes, and oftentimes he imagined crushing them between his fingers into viscous, transparent bits of jelly. They'd stop staring then. Russell's skin wouldn't crawl anymore.

Chapter Text

Russell didn't go back to the zoo on Tuesday.

Nor did he go back on Thursday.

And the week after that.

Instead of going to see the antelopes, the zebras and the rabbits, he went to hang out with Chris just like he'd always done before meeting Tabasa. He stopped thinking about the zookeeper and his green hooded coat and his kind blue eyes, because Tabasa wasn't part of his life anymore. At least, that was what Russell convinced himself of.

Russell never felt lonely. He didn't experience that kind of bittersweet feeling. However, there were times when he'd find himself alone, like invisible walls were suddenly built around him: Russell would forget about the things surrounding him. If Chris was talking, Russell wouldn't hear him. If people were walking around him, Russell wouldn't see them.

At times like these, the zookeeper's silhouette would cross his mind and he would briefly wonder what it would be like if he just went back to talk to the man. Whenever it happened, Russell didn't dwell on his thoughts very long: he'd quickly move on to something else. Russell ignored the thought for two weeks, and then three, and he was sure that he was going back to the way he was before: the boy who didn't care about anything. It was a relief.

Russell was very careful to avoid the zoo's whereabouts whenever he walked around town because he didn't want to risk coming across Tabasa. He suspected that if he encountered the man, something would make him change again into the strange person he'd briefly become during the time he regularly went to the zoo and he really didn't want to care again. That had been a frightening experience which he did not wish to repeat.

Russell realized one day that he had been drug dealing a lot less during that time, when Chris asked him why he hadn't gotten as much money as usual. His friend didn't seem angry, simply curious.

"Are you chickenin' out on me man? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Russell shook his head, staring at the crumpled bills in Chris' hand. He wasn't scared... He'd just forgotten to deal. Chris shrugged and put the money in his pocket.

"Hey, it's fine, I'm glad you help me out an' all, but if you don' want to anymore I understand. Jus' thought it was a matter of time before you'd stop."

No, he didn't want to stop. He'd just been busy with... things.

Chris smiled. "Oh, that zookeeper of yours, right? Hey man, it's cool, I told you. I get it if you don' feel good sellin' drugs now that you got a straight, law-abidin' citizen as your friend."

The zookeeper wasn't a friend.

Chris' smile lessened. "You ain't friends anymore? What happened?"

Nothing. It had been a mistake, that was all.

"Did... Did he do somethin'?"

Russell shook his head and told Chris to forget about it, so Chris dropped the subject. And that was that. It was time to go, so Russell picked up his stuff and left Chris' house.

He knew why Chris had been so quick to assume that Tabasa had done something wrong. He felt the same way Russell did about adults, notably about men: he was wary of them. It wasn't surprising, considering they'd both had quite a bad experience with a stranger a few years back. It had been raining that day, a heavy downpour like the sky had just caved in from the weight of the water, they'd been far from home and they'd been taking cover next to a closed store. A man had stopped to chat with them, and he'd seemed nice enough. Once the rain had eased a bit, Chris had left and Russell had decided to stay behind, since he didn't want to go back home just yet.

The man had started to act a bit strange after Chris had gone. Russell couldn't quite put his finger on it at first, but he felt slightly uncomfortable with the way the man smiled.

"I haven't said this yet, but you're a cute boy. Grown-ups tend to talk behind my back and call me strange, because I tell this to children. I just really like children. That's all it is. You understand, right?"

Russell had nodded cautiously. In truth, he didn't really understand. And he didn't know why the man was telling him this. He thought he ought to get going. The man had stopped him by stepping in his way.

"Where are you going? You know, I'm very lonely. I'm happy I met a kid like you."

Russell had felt something travel down his spine and had taken a step back, uneasiness rolling in his stomach. The man had ignored his reaction and kept smiling his strange smile.

"No one understands me. But you understand, don't you? You know I'm nice... I just want you to stay with me a little bit. I'll give you candy if you come to my house."

The man had gotten closer, and that was when Russell had understood that he'd better run, that this was one of those strangers. Just as he spun around, he'd felt the man's big, cold hand grab his arm and pull him back. Russell had felt his heart pick up speed, his breath shorten. The man hadn't been very tall, but he'd been bigger and stronger, and Russell couldn't shake him off. The man kept insisting, like he wanted to convince Russell, and maybe convince himself.

"I'm a nice man! Why does no one understand me? Say that I'm nice! Say it!!"

Russell looked around frantically to find anything or anyone that could help him, but there seemed to be no one around because of the rain. The man had pulled on his arm again, and his grip was so tight that it had started to hurt. Russell was about to call for help when the man's other hand slipped across his face, muffling him before he had the chance. Russell had immediately bitten down on the fingers covering his mouth in an attempt to free himself. The man had screamed in pain and loosened his hold on the boy, and Russell had tried to slip away, but the man's fingers had grabbed the back of his shirt and he'd felt himself being pulled back. And then there had been the sound of a third familiar voice.

"Let go of 'im, you fuckin' perv!"

The man had turned around without letting go of Russell's shirt and had ended up facing a furious Chris. As soon as he'd gotten the chance, Chris had kicked him between the legs and the man had howled, crumpling to his knees. Chris had grabbed Russell by the elbow and pulled him out of the man's grasp, yelling: "Run!"

So Russell had ran. They'd fled as fast as their young legs could carry them, out of the street, out of the neighbourhood, and they'd only slowed down when Russell couldn't run anymore. Panting, Chris had looked up from his crouching position at Russell, who was leaning against a wall to catch his breath.

"What the fuck was that all about?"

Russell couldn't find anything coherent to say.

"Did that fucker do anythin' weird to you?"

Russell had shaken his head and slid down the wall. His heart was still hammering away in his chest, and he could feel his skin crawl where the man had gripped him. That had been.... terrifying. Yes, that was it. Fright was what he'd felt back there, and it was what he was still feeling. His palms were sweaty and his fingers felt cold, he could hear blood rushing in his ears and it felt like his lungs were about to explode. They'd stayed there for a while until their breath was back to normal, and then Chris had looked up again and smiled at his friend.

"I know kickin' some guy's balls ain't cool, but hey, it worked."

Russell had nodded and after a small moment of silence, he'd asked the reason why Chris had been there to help him.

"Oh, yeah! I jus' forgot to ask you if you could give me back your empty plastic bags, 'cause if I rinse them out me and my mom could use them instead of buyin' them. We're cutting it a bit too short this month, so any way of saving money's good."

Russell had dug into his pockets and handed Chris the crumpled plastic bags where there were still some specks of residue left. He'd asked Chris if he was sure they were safe to use, considering what had been in them moments prior. Chris had waved his concerns away.

"You're always asking yourself so many goddamn questions already, stop doin' that! It's fine if I clean them out real good."

Russell hadn't insisted. There were only two empty plastic bags because costumers who didn't take the contents along with the bag weren't common, but it happened. Chris had shoved them in his pockets. Then he'd looked up at Russell and frowned slightly.

"Hey, you sure you'll be fine goin' home on your own? I'll get it if you're not too hot to go alone, I mean, you don't look so good. Kinda pale, actually."

Russell had been about to answer that he was fine when he'd noticed that he was still a bit shaky from the earlier encounter with the stranger, and he'd nodded. Chris was right. He didn't feel fine, quite the contrary: he didn't want to walk back home by himself. Chris had smiled lightly and given his back a pat.

"Okay man, let's go. I'll keep you company."

Russell had gone the way back home with Chris at his side, and that night Russell's nightmares hadn't been about blood seeping in white fur. They'd been about the lingering feeling of the man's clammy hold on his arm. It had felt disgusting.

The skin there had been a bit bruised, but it wasn't serious enough to go see the nurse. Soon there was nothing left about that encounter but his and Chris' memory of it. They'd been much more careful since then.

Chapter Text

On Friday, he hurt his arm on the table. His father came home and noticed that the gaming system was still on when it shouldn't have been. The slap hit Russell harder than he'd expected, catching him across the face so violently that it made him lose track of time and space for a second. It was long enough that he couldn't avoid the small table in front of the couch and something cracked when he fell against its edge. After that, his elbow started feeling funny so he went to see the nurse behind the hospital. When she saw the way he was holding his arm, her big green eyes showed an emotion he didn't understand - and never did, each time it happened. Now that he thought about it, it was the same look that Tabasa had shown when- No, never mind that.

"A-Ah! Russell! Err, what happened this time?" exclaimed the nurse.

It was a bad fall, explained Russell. He noticed that the nurse's name tag, which said Mireille in pretty slanted calligraphy, was a bit askew that day. She gently pushed him inside.

"Um, y-you should sit down. I'm sorry if this hurts, but I need to see if anything is broken."

He did as he was told, letting her feel around his elbow with her fingers, and then she told him to wait and left for a bit. While he waited, Russell wondered why she seemed so hurried and why she hadn't smiled as brightly as she usually did. Was his elbow that badly hurt? Sure, it ached, it was bruised and swollen, but he could still move his arm around. He didn't think his elbow was the problem. He'd come here with a dislocated shoulder several times, and once he'd even had a broken finger: she'd looked alarmed but she'd still tried to give him a reassuring smile, even though he didn't need reassurance. This time, something was different about her. He couldn't tell what. She came back holding a familiar object made in black and grey fabric with straps hanging from it.

"I-I found a spare sling in our supply closet, so... Um, please, make sure to return it in the same state."

As she kneeled in front of him to slip it around his shoulder and arm, Russell asked why he needed one. It was as uncomfortable as he remembered. Once she finished tying it and making sure it was not too tight and not too loose, she looked up at him. Smiling softly, she explained it to him.

"Um, well, your elbow is injured, but nothing is out of place, so this should be enough. Y-You need to be careful, though, don't go running and jumping around, all right? It has to stay still. And, err, make sure you wear it all the time. .... Come back when you think it's better, and, um, I'll tell you if you can stop wearing the sling, okay Russell?"

Russell nodded. She gave him an ice pack as well and told him to hold it under his elbow until the swelling went down, and to do the same when he'd get home with the one she'd given him before. Then she said she was busy and had to leave, and that once he felt better, he could go.

"J-Just leave the ice pack over there," she said as she pointed on a small plastic table at the corner of the room. Then she smiled at him again, handed him some tablets of painkillers, said goodbye, and left.

Russell noticed something else that day: the nurse hadn't said anything about her patient, Mr. Saxon. He found it very strange. Maybe that was why the nurse had acted like she had. Something must've been wrong with her patient.

Russell waited for his elbow's swelling to go down, gazing at the way Mireille had taken back into the hospital. He'd gone inside there once, when he was younger and his family had started to really break down because his dad's gambling habits and drinking were getting out of hand. He'd been seriously hurt by the man, with a few fractured bones which had required his stay in a hospital bed.

He hadn't liked that place at all.

The nurses in the pediatric ward hadn't all been like Mireille. One of them had had a very short temper. He'd heard her get cross with one of the smaller patients once. She'd taken the girl by the arm, a girl with blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. Russell had seen her play with the hospital's toys, and draw with the hospital's crayons. He'd noticed her because she had bruises all over, like him. The nurse had dragged her into the checkup room. A horrible voice had risen from that place a few minutes later, a voice distorted by anger and frustration. There'd been sounds of breaking glass, and he'd heard her yell "little brat" again and again. Russell had stepped back and left the hallway.

That nurse's eyes had been cold. She hadn't been gentle. Fortunately, he hadn't been one of the children who needed the most attention, but she'd already had to handle him to help him up despite his fractured ribs. She hadn't really helped him out of his bed, rather, she'd ushered him to stand up and had tugged on his wrist so that he'd hurry.

"I don't have all day," she'd said with an impatient voice.

Russell had done his best to stand as fast as he could, so that she'd let go of him and leave.

Russell didn't understand why such a person, who clearly disliked children, worked in this kind of place. There were some kind nurses, but he'd gradually observed a certain phenomenon: when a nurse was kind, there was always another nurse to talk about her behind her back. They talked about each other above his bed as they changed the sheets, as if their patient wasn't there to hear them talk, and he watched them from the corner of his room as they spouted hateful words and made fun of their colleagues. He found it ridiculous, because even if the pair of ill-speaking nurses found faults in a third nurse, they'd do the same a bit later about the nurse they'd been talking with just before. It seemed pointless and it was obvious to him that talking the way they did about others wouldn't bring them anything.

Some nurses would complain when they thought no one was around. They'd sigh, and long for a change in their routine. One of them had even been muttering under her breath as she'd stopped in front of his room to jot something down on a piece of paper against his closed door. The doors weren't very soundproof, and he'd heard her grumble.

"Day after day, taking patient's blood, changing sheets, listening to the doctors' scolding..." She'd sighed. "So tiring..."

He'd assumed she was spending a bad day.

The nurses weren't the only bad thing in the hospital. Sometimes the other kids acted unpleasant as well. There was one time when Russell had been in the playroom, sitting in a corner by himself, and one of the younger kids had been running around and making a lot of noise. The nurse had stopped him, and one of the older children had gone to see him.

"Don't run around. Not everyone has health like you."

The younger one's face had fallen.

"I'm sorry," he'd said in a small voice.

The older one had ignored his answer and left him alone. Russell had been watching the exchange quietly, and then he'd gone back to reading his storybook. It was a storybook his granny used to have in her library.

Once, Russell had ventured out of his room to see what the rest of the hospital looked like. He'd stayed within the limits of the pediatric ward, and without knowing it, stepped in the palliative care section. He drew closer to one of the unmoving patients in the first bed to his right. It was a girl, a bit younger than him. She was holding some kind of stuffed animal under one arm, and the other one was enclosed in a big white plaster. Her arm wasn't the only part of her body covered in bandages and the like, there was also something made of plastic taped to her throat. The machine next to her bed was big and beeping, and there was a strange wooshing sound every now and then.

It was impressive.

Russell had stayed there for a while, wondering how someone could be so still in their sleep, so pale, despite the steady noise of the machine that sounded like a city truck backing up in the street. He had taken a step closer, reaching out to touch the girl's fingers. They were cold, and limp in his hand. How strange.

Suddenly, there'd been a loud continuous beep in his ear, and his head had jerked up, looking for the source of the noise. It wasn't the machine next to the girl, but it seemed to come from behind one of the many white screens separating the beds.

He barely had the time to walk past two of the beds when the door behind him opened, and several nurses came rushing in. He didn't say anything, and didn't answer when one of the nurses asked him what he was doing here. He stared at the nurses huddling around the bed just ahead of him, saw one of them pick up a small, white hand. He didn't have time to watch any more, the nurse next to him grabbing him by the shoulder and gently pushing him out of the room. He walked back to his section of the ward obediently, following the nurse's lead. He asked what had happened, and the nurse turned to him with a troubled expression.

"Something bad happened. Something sad."

Russell looked down, trying to understand. Something bad and sad... Had the kid been hurt?

The nurse nodded slowly. "I guess you could say that."

Russell asked if the kid would be okay. That was what you were supposed to ask when someone was hurt. The nurse hadn't nodded this time.

"Listen, Russell... The place where you were, it was a sad, quiet place. You shouldn't have gone there. Sometimes the children there... they don't make it."

Russell had been nine years old at that time. His grandmother had died a few months before, so he knew what death was. He'd asked if death was what happened to the kids in that room. It was a curious and new concept to him, that children could die like this. He'd thought only old people died in hospitals. The nurse's steps had faltered and he'd shot a glance at the boy. He'd hesitantly opened his mouth to answer.

".... Not all of them. No, not all of them."

They'd both been silent until they'd reached Russell's room. The nurse had told the boy to lay down, and then he'd left him alone. Russell had pondered this new knowledge for a while.

Russell looked away from the door that had closed behind Mireille's back and removed the ice pack from under his elbow. The swelling had gotten a bit better. He remembered that at the time, the discovery that kids like him could die in a hospital had made him feel small, insignificant, vulnerable. Now, when he thought about death, it didn't make him feel a thing. Just as trying to kill Tabasa and Gardenia hadn't changed the rythm his heartbeat. Just as thinking about his dead rabbit didn't disturb him. Just as nightmares of blood and pain left him indifferent. As he stood up to put the ice pack back on the table, he wondered when he'd lost that part of himself. Maybe it was for the better, maybe it was for the worse. Russell didn't really care.

Chapter Text

On the Sunday of the same week when his elbow got hurt, he went to the church. Nothing had changed there. The girl was brightly chatting away with her brother, her chestnut-colored pigtails bouncing on her shoulders as she nodded vehemently, and their mother was sweeping the ground in front of the church. Russell sat in one of the pews and watched them quietly. His elbow didn't hurt as much as before thanks to the painkiller he'd swallowed two hours ago, but the sling was annoying and made it a bit difficult to move around. He'd take it off whenever he came home and hid it in his bag, because he didn't want his father to cause him any trouble for it, but he made sure to put it on whenever his parents weren't there. He didn't want to end up crippled just because he hadn't followed the nurse's advice.

Watching the siblings from his corner of the church, Russell wondered if he could ever behave the same way they did. If he could have the same bright eyes and same wide smile as them when they were together.

They seemed happy.
Gardenia seemed happy.

They had a mother.
Gardenia had a father.

All of them were loved by their family.
Was that the reason why they were so happy?
Was that the reason why Russell couldn't be like them?

Russell's gaze dropped to the small bible in front of him. It was sitting in the back of the pew in front of him, with a golden cross over its cover. Those people wore crosses around their necks.
Did those people despise anyone?
Would they be forgiven no matter what they did?
Wasn't that what the bible said?
Repentance was the way to be forgiven. It could forgive anything.

Russell looked back up and stared at the stuffy priest and his sister. If he could make them disappear like he'd wanted to make Gardenia disappear, would it make him feel better? Why did they have all that he didn't? Russell felt something growing inside of him. He hadn't been able to last time, but now... Now he could, because Tabasa wouldn't be there to trouble his mind. He wouldn't stop Russell from doing what he chose to do, because Russell wouldn't think about him, because Tabasa didn't matter anymore, not at all. Surely Russell could go through with his own decisions, without faltering. And even if it was a bad thing he wanted to do, then God would forgive him. Because if he repented, then he would be forgiven. And if he was forgiven, then everything would be fine.

If repenting could forgive anything, then...

Late at night, he went to church. The sky was clear, the moon shone down on the grass, its light spilling over the pretty dark flowers wrapped around the church. Russell was holding a jerrican full of gasoline, and it made soft splishing noises as he walked. There was no one around. The sound of the town was muffled by the distance separating the church from the rest of the world.

Russell put the jerrican down in the grass and sat down next to the church wall. It was quiet here. He tilted his head back and gazed at the vines. He didn't dislike this peaceful place. It was the home of three people. He didn't dislike the church, but he did dislike what those people had. He didn't like that those siblings were so happy and close. He didn't like that they had a loving mother, that they had things he could never have or feel. He didn't understand what it was that could bind people like this. Brother and sister... Child and mother. He disliked it. He disliked it all.

He wanted it to be gone.

Russell got back on his feet, opened the jerrican with his free hand, and grabbed it by the handle.
He started walking around the church slowly, pouring the gasoline along its walls. Everything was quiet. There was no one.

God, please listen.
Tonight, your faithful followers
will depart to your side.

The jerrican became lighter and lighter in his hand, until it weighed nothing but its plastic shell. Russell lowered it in the grass. He took out the match box he had in his pocket and put it in his other hand, the one whose arm was in the sling. Then he pulled out a match with his free hand.

What would Tabasa think?

He froze.
No.

Not again.

Not this again.

He ignored the thought and proceeded to stick the match to the side of the box. He suddenly noticed that his hand was shaking. Why was it shaking?

Isn't he the only one who really cares?

He tried to stop thinking about it, but he couldn't. His mind kept voicing his thoughts and he was unable to stop it.

He was worried, remember?

He stopped.

Even after what you did to him...

He hesitated.

What will you do then?

He stayed still in the dark night, the thought growing and growing in his mind. If he did this...
But Tabasa wasn't a part of his life anymore. Tabasa wouldn't know...

What will you do then?

It wasn't supposed to be a question he'd ask himself.

Why did he care? Burning the church down would be easy. The grass would burn, the vines would burn, the flowers would burn, they would burn. He'd wanted them gone for a while now, he just hadn't realized it. So why was he so... unsure? Why did he care?

He stayed like this a long time. The moon's light slowly disminished as big, grey clouds filled the skies. The grass around him darkened, but he didn't notice. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear it at first, the soft sound of crushed grass progressively reaching his ears until it grew dangerously close. At that moment, he broke free of his doubt-riddled mind, instantly alert.

"Is someone there?"

It was the girl's voice. The girl called Cody. He dropped everything and bolted out from behind the wall, fleeing in the opposite direction of the her voice.

"Dogma, don't you think it smells weird?" said the voice with an interrogative and slightly wary tone.

That was the last thing Russell heard before he was out of range. He didn't hear anyone running after him, or yelling at him to stop. No one tried to catch him. Russell ran. He ran, pain shooting through his arm as his fleeing strides jostled his sling around. He ran, and ran, and didn't stop running until he felt a stitch in his side, and then he slowed down and doubled over to catch his breath. No one had tried to go after him, so he hadn't been seen, right?

He tried to slow down his heavy breathing, listening to the sounds around him. There was a dog barking from afar, and he could hear the sound of a car once in a while, but that was all. He straightened once he got his breath back, and started walking to get back home. He'd left everything back there, at the church. Maybe someone would know that he was the one who'd tried to set fire to the church, but that wasn't what troubled him.

What truly disturbed him was that he didn't know what to do with the fact that he still cared. He wasn't cured. It was still there, the thing that made it a bit hard to breathe when he thought about Tabasa. He'd though it was gone. But why was it still there?

Russell looked down at his hand, the one that had been shaking earlier. His fingers were still agitated with small, rapid tremors. He didn't understand what was happening. Why was he shaking? Why did his breath still feel short, when he'd stopped to get it back? He could feel his heart still hammering in his chest and his breathing stutter, and it was like someone was grabbing the back of his throat and tightening their grip.

Maybe he was sick. Maybe he'd caught a cold.

Why was he thinking of Tabasa?

It's not a sickness. It's something more, something entirely different. Something you don't know, and don't understand, a voice told him at the back of his head. A mocking voice. A voice he knew, somehow, was right. This wasn't just a matter of being sick, of being cured.

And it made him feel very uneasy.

Chapter Text

Russell didn't go back home that night. Although slipping out had been easy, he knew that going back in was another level of difficulty that he wasn't ready to try. He was still feeling a bit apprehensive towards the way his hands shook, and he had no idea how to stop the trembling of his fingers. He couldn't spend the night out, it was dangerous. He didn't want the police to bring him back home. And he didn't want to disturb Chris and his mom this late. So he decided to see if Kantera was still awake. The man was a bit of an owlish person, and he often stayed up late sorting the products in his warehouse or quietly sipping tea and reading old books about plants, both from his homeland and from his new country. That was most likely the reason why he looked so sleepy during the day.

When Russell reached the shop, he peered inside and saw that light was pouring over the counter in two thin lines from behind the green curtain. Kantera was still up, and probably sifting through his plants. Russell tried to jiggle the door's handle to see if the doctor had forgotten to lock up the shop. He had no such luck, and the door remained firmly shut, so he knocked on the glass to try and catch the doctor's attention from beyond the curtain. He waited for a while, and knocked again, louder this time.

After a few seconds, the curtain moved and revealed the doctor. He looked intrigued and was holding roots of some kind in his gloved hand. When he recognized the small shape of the boy in front of his store, his mouth formed a silent "Ah!" and he turned back behind the curtain. A few more moments passed and when he pushed it aside again, the roots in his hand had disappeared, replaced by a key. The man hurried to the front of his shop and turned the key in the lock, and the door opened with a soft chime. He had a fretful expression, but his eyes were mostly inquisitive.

"Russell... May I ask what you are doing out so late? Is something the matter?"

The boy didn't answer his question, but he asked if he could stay the night. The doctor didn't hesitate and ushered him inside.

"Why, yes, come in." As he closed the door behind Russell, he asked: "Pray tell, Russell, what happened?"

Russell looked down at his hands. His fingers had stopped shaking. He still felt incredibly puzzled by his body's reaction to what happened, and he didn't understand why this was happening. It wasn't because of the failed attempt to set the church on fire, he was sure of it. He didn't care about that or the fact that he might get caught. He'd wavered because he'd thought of Tabasa, and he had little to no doubt that the zookeeper was the reason why he was like this.

"Well, Russell?"

The boy turned around to look at the doctor. Kantera wasn't looking stern or cross or anything like that. He just had a gentle expression on his face, an expression that probably meant that he really wanted Russell to talk to him. But Russell shook his head slowly and looked away. Kantera didn't insist, and he settled his hand on Russell's small shoulder to lead him to the back of the shop.

"All is well, Russell. 'Tis nothing. Let us chat about other matters."

Russell and Kantera spent another hour tying up roots into wads, and then the doctor told him he could go to bed if he felt like it. Russell noticed that his limbs felt a bit heavy, and that he was indeed tired. The doctor smiled at him kindly and went to fetch a clean kimono. It wasn't Russell's size, of course, but the doctor was short for his age, so Russell just had to roll up the sleeves and the legs for it to fit better. Once Russell had finished showering and had dressed for the night, he bid good night to the doctor who was reading in his seat with a cup of tea at his side, and he went to bed. Kantera's place was small, so there was no guest room, but the futon Kantera had laid out for him in the storeroom was much more comfortable than the ratty mattress he usually slept on at home. He thought about Tabasa for a while before he finally fell asleep. Russell's night was dark, silent and still. There were no nightmares.

The boy woke up to the mouth-watering smell of rice, natto, soup and other smells he didn't recognize. Only at the doctor's place was waking up in the morning so pleasing and appetizing. In Russell's home, breakfast wasn't really a thing: usually, it consisted of somewhat dry toast with chocolate spread (which sometimes lasted up to two months, because Russell was the only one to eat it). Discount fruit juice and cereal only happened if his mother was in a good mood when she went grocery shopping. Russell ate alone with a ticking clock and buzzing fridge before leaving for the day. When he ate breakfast at Chris' house, there was fruit juice, cereal, and even hot chocolate in winter, and there was a major difference: they didn't eat alone. Chris' mother always made an effort to eat with her son when she had the time, and when she didn't she'd leave a note on the table or their fridge that always ended with "I'll be back soon"; but she always took the time to stay when Russell spent the night there.

Russ sat on the side of his futon and pushed himself up. His kimono, which had loosened a bit over the night, probably gave him an untidy appearance, and he didn't doubt that his hair was in the same state. He looked to the side, staring at the small pile of neatly folded clothes he'd put there last evening after showering. He set to changing himself, and lowered the kimono on the futon once he was done, flattening it out before straightening and leaving the small storeroom.

The doctor was sitting at the table in the kitchen, and there were two trays in front of him. He was sipping his drink, and when he noticed Russell entering the room, he lowered his small bowl to the table and gazed at the boy. Russell didn't notice at first, because he was focused on the food sitting on the tray as he sat down. It smelled delicious, and looked just as good. The times when Russell had stayed at the doctor's over the night were rare, but whenever that was the case the doctor's breakfast usually consisted of white rice, natto and miso soup. Today, there seemed to be small pieces of meat as well. Russell looked up to ask what it was, and then noticed the serious expression on the man's face. The question died down before he even asked it. Something felt different this morning.

"Good morning, Russell."

The doctor had the look of someone who was expecting something. Russell cautiously dipped his head, wondering what was going on. He kept his words to himself, however, and waited for the doctor to say something else.

"It seems you're rested. I can just tell from your face."

The doctor let go of the bowl he was holding and crossed his arms, his hands sliding inside his large sleeves and out of view. He lightly tilted his head, and Russell felt like he was being studied.

"...Well, Russell? Could you tell me what happened yesterday?"

Russell didn't answer. He wasn't sure what the doctor was expecting of him.

"You are a silent one, no doubt. But right now, your silence is quite significant."

The doctor leaned to the side and picked something off the ground, and Russell recognized a newspaper. The piece of paper flopped on the table and Kantera pushed it towards the boy, then tapped the tip of his index finger on an article. There was a picture of a little white church with familiar pretty dark flowers and serpentine vines wrapped around it.

ARSON ATTEMPT INVESTIGATION ONGOING
Late last night, the police were called to investigate a suspected arson attempt at the Morning Glory Church.
"Our church was almost set alight and it was most certainly deliberate," says Dogma Toscarina, the local priest in the church which narrowly avoided this grim fate.
His sister confirms his words with great worry. "There was gaz everywhere. We could've died in there."
Police have backed up their suspicions after finding an empty jerrican and matches on the ground next to the church.
"We urge anyone who may have seen suspicious people hanging around the church late at night to contact the police," says Det. Snr Sgt Rolt.

Russell didn't read the rest. It was obvious from the title that they hadn't found who was responsible, but the doctor sitting across the table seemed to have guessed. Kantera calmly gestured towards the newspaper.

"Was it you?"

Russell didn't hesitate. There was no point in lying, and he didn't really mind Kantera knowing the truth. The consequences didn't matter to him. He nodded, and kept staring at the man. Kantera silently returned his stare, as if judging the boy in front of him. They stayed like this for a while, and then Kantera handed the boy a fork. He knew Russell didn't manage chopsticks very well.

"Here you are. Please, eat."

Russell quietly wrapped his fingers around the fork and retrieved it from the doctor's hand, but his dull blue eyes didn't leave the man's. Kantera leaned back slowly and smiled kindly.

"Do not worry, Russell. I will not be the judge of your acts, nor will I be the jury. Your secret is safe with me. I am not one to condemn others for what they may or may not have done."

The boy looked down at the food on his tray and lowered his fork in his small bowl of rice. He didn't really know what to answer to that. Kantera picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks.

"I have secrets of my own. Every human has a dark side to them, and we are no exception to that rule."

Russell quietly nodded at the doctor's odd words, still staring at the food. Something felt changed between them, and he didn't know what exactly, but he thought that he caught the gist of it: the doctor had done bad things too. And Russell wasn't in trouble for what he'd attempted to do last night. In front of him, Kantera slid his chopsticks in his mouth and started chewing on his piece of meat. Russell started eating as well. They didn't talk during breakfast, each of them wandering in their own mind, and the newspaper stayed where it was, laid out on the table.

Russell helped put away the dishes once they were cleaned, and told the man he had to leave. Kantera accompanied him out of his living space into the warehouse, and stopped right in front of the green curtain. Before pulling it aside, he looked down at the boy standing next to him and smiled softly.

"Remember, Russell. No matter what happens, no matter what you do, I will not condemn you."

Russell looked up at him pensively, still a bit puzzled by the doctor's earlier. He didn't know if asking the doctor what bad things he had done was a good idea, but it seemed fair to him that he should know, since the doctor knew about his arson attempt. So he asked the doctor what bad things he had done.

Kantera seemed taken aback, and his expression darkened. He didn't answer right away, and looked away from the boy's expectant face. His gaze rested upon the red lilies gathered next to the green curtain, waiting to be brought out front in the store to decorate the counter. He spoke in a soft voice, without looking away from the elegant flowers.

"Have you ever done anything else before, aside from the church?"

Russell said yes, his voice just as quiet. Kantera finally looked at him again, his grey eyes trained on the boy's blue ones, judging the depth of Russell's answer. His lips parted.

"Tell me, Russell... The darkness I see in you, it makes me wonder. Have you ever tried to kill someone with your own hands?"

A green hooded figure briefly flashed in Russell's mind, instantly followed by the image of brilliant white hair tumbling down the back of a yellow dress, both memories fading just as quickly as they'd appeared, and he nodded.

"I see..."

Kantera fell silent, studying the boy's face. Then his arms uncrossed and he bended down slightly, settling a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, and a very small, almost imperceptible smile appeared in his lips. The doctor had the same undescribable expression he'd had the day he'd told Russell about the red spider lilies for the first time.

"Then you should know that I've done the same. That is the bad thing I've done."

Kantera gazed intensely at Russell's face, and his eyes were serious and somewhat... pained. Russell didn't understand why, as the doctor wasn't injured, but he didn't ask any more. He could sense that Kantera had told him something extremely important, like a secret, and that he wasn't supposed to add anything to it. Russell had no doubt that the pain he could see in the doctor's eyes was linked to what he'd just said. So he just nodded silently. The doctor let go of his shoulder, and the heavy air lingering over his expression vanished when he smiled lightly at the boy and pulled the curtain open.

"Well then, Russell. Run along."

The boy stared at the man for just another moment, before thanking him for letting him spend the night here and stepping into the store. He crossed the counter and walked along the shelves and drawers until he reached the glass door. The wooden chime rang above him when he pulled it open, and he left the shop without looking back.

Kantera had killed someone. The gentle, smiling doctor was responsible for someone's death. However, it didn't seem like the doctor was the same as Russell, because contrary to the boy, there were feelings that showed on his face. Russell wondered if the undescribable expression the doctor had worn earlier was the one people had when they felt that legendary guilt.

Chapter Text

Russell didn't go back home to get his stuff for school, deciding it didn't matter if he went there empty-handed: he wouldn't be staying there anyway. He just wanted to see if his classmates had heard about what he'd done, and it interested him to know how they were reacting to the news of a potential arsonist in town. Russell had always had trouble curbing his curiosity.

He was already late for first period, but that didn't matter. When he reached the building, he sat on the school's steps and waited for ten o'clock to roll around, wondering if Chris would be there. A dull, aching pain suddenly reminded him yet again that his elbow needed another painkiller to stop acting up, and he looked down at his sling. Maybe he should've gone home after all. His elbow wasn't as swollen as it had been on Friday, but it was still a bit bruised and not completely healed, judging from the pain. Running away from the church probably hadn't helped it any. Russell had noticed that his body didn't heal as fast as Chris': whenever they got into scuffles with costumers, his friend's bruises always disappeared earlier than his. He would've liked to know why that was.

Russell looked away from his arm, his gaze sweeping across the street. There were a lot of people walking around, and cars drifting up and down the road. He had to squint because of the sun's bright rays. It was a beautiful day, and Russell wondered if the sky would've been any darker if he had gone through with burning down the church. One of the passerbys was holding a newspaper, and the boy caught sight of the article with a picture of the small white church. What would that passerby think when he read about it?

Russell leaned back against the step he was on and tilted his head back, closing his eyes and letting the sun's beams warm his face. He hadn't done it in the end, because he'd thought of Tabasa again. Avoiding the zookeeper had done nothing for him at all. Maybe it was time to return to the zoo. It seemed that Tabasa would stay in his mind no matter what he did, and he wanted to know why. Maybe Tabasa would know.

He distantly heard the school's bell ring, so he looked down and pushed himself off the steps, climbing up to the school's entrance and letting himself drift along the river of students down the halls until he reached his classroom. As soon as he took as step inside, Chris' voice called out to him.

"Russ! Hey!"

Russell's gaze swiveled to his left and he saw his friend beckoning him closer. He walked towards Chris' desk and said hi. Chris was practically beaming with excitement.

"Did you hear about the church?"

Russell nodded.

"Damn, this is crazy! To think there'd be an actual psychopath in our town!"

Russell stared at his friend, wondering what Chris would do if he knew that the psychopath was him. The other boy looked like he couldn't stay in one place, and he kept moving his hands around as he spoke.

"That's the church you go to, right? What if it had really gone down? Plus, I heard the priest was inside, with his little sis. They could've actually died, I mean, seriously died! How messed up is that?"

Chris' hands stopped flitting in every direction and he gazed expectantly at Russell, waiting for him to react. When he understood what Chris was waiting for, Russell said: pretty messed up.

"I know right? It's fuckin' insane, dude, I bet everyone's freaking out about what to do with that kind of person so close to where we live! My mom is, that's for sure."

Chris didn't ask about what Russell's parents thought about it, because he knew the kind of parents Russell had, and they most certainly were not the type to worry about anything. Too far lost in alcohol and sex. Russell shrugged like he didn't care, and Chris knew that it was indeed the case.

It'll pass, said Russell.

"Y'think?" asked Chris rather dubiously. "I don' think that's the kind of thing you can just gloss over."

Russell shrugged again. Then he completely changed the subject and suggested that they both leave the classroom. Surprisingly enough, Chris didn't immediately jump on the proposal.

"You just got here, dude, what's the big idea? Did you come jus' to get me?"

Kind of, answered Russell. He didn't feel like staying in class all day.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" Chris smiled widely. "Usually I'm the one to drag you outside with me."

Russell gazed at Chris. He was right, this wasn't the way things usually went. The boy looked at the other people in the class. They all looked a bit agitated, no doubt about the news, and the teacher would soon come back. For some mysterious reason, Chris seemed to want to stay in class, since he still hadn't accepted Russell's proposal. The boy looked back at his friend and said: never mind. Then he stepped away from Chris, but not towards his desk.

"Russ?" said Chris behind him.

Russell didn't answer and started heading for the door. Maybe he could spend the day at the zoo- but that meant going back home to get money. Well, that way he'd take a painkiller for the day, so it didn't really matter. Zoo it was, then, and if he wanted to go to the zoo, then he had to go alone. Chris staying in school would actually work out better than if his friend came along.

"Where're you goin'?" called out Chris, his voice interrogative and puzzled, but already a bit distant.

Russell didn't turn around or pause, and when he slipped out of the classroom he saw his teacher walking down the hall. Fortunately, he had the time to hide behind an older student before the man saw him, and his teacher walked right by him without noticing his presence. Once he was sure the path was clear, Russell hurried out of the school and down the steps. It hadn't been any use coming to school in the end, but now he knew what he wanted to make of his day, and skipping school had always been the least of his problems.

His father wasn't there when Russell came home twenty minutes later, but luckily his mother still was, which meant that her handbag was there as well. She didn't say anything to him, even if she noticed that he was there. She glanced at him when he noticed her in the bedroom, and then kept picking up the clothes on the ground like he wasn't there. There was someone in the bed, but Russell didn't try and see who. He already knew.

He waited for his mother to step in the next room with her arms full of clothes that weren't all hers, and when he heard the laundry machine click open, he quickly slipped his hand in his mother's handbag and snatched up a bill which he immediately hid in his pocket. If she was doing the laundry right now, then she would leave to work in about fourty minutes, leaving the man in the house by himself so that he would take back his clothes once they were dry and then go back to where he came from without locking the door. Their door was rarely locked. After all, they had nothing to steal, aside from Russell's game console, and his parents didn't care about what was his. They could always buy another cheap TV if this one ever disappeared- and who would ever want to steal such an old, worn-out TV anyway? Russell grabbed one of the painkillers hidden in his drawer, swallowed it dry, and left.

Russell had to make the trip back to the school and a bit further beyond, where the zoo was. His heart felt vibrant with a feeling he knew, but didn't understand why he was feeling it: anticipation. It seemed he was excited for some reason. Did he want to see the zookeeper that much? Why? He hadn't realized until just now how he'd missed going to the zoo and seeing Tabasa. He didn't feel reassured by this discovery.

He paid the entrance fee, and then took a few steps ahead and looked around. He didn't know where he was supposed to find Tabasa at this time of day, and walking around the zoo in hopes of coming across him probably wouldn't work out too well. Russell turned back on his heels and stopped in front of the counter where he'd paid for the ticket, waiting for the man behind it to notice him. When he did, Russell asked if the man knew where the zookeeper was.

"The zookeeper? Sure, buddy, he should be in the Birdhouse at this time of day. Can you find it on your own? Do you know where it is?"

Russell said yes, and then stepped away from the man. The Birdhouse was between the Terrarium and the African River, which weren't far from the entrance. However, the Birdhouse was pretty big, and if Tabasa was inside then Russell would have to wait for him to finish before he could see him.
Well, that didn't really matter. After all, Russell had the whole day ahead of him.

When he reached the Birdhouse, Russell circled the building to find the door reserved to the zoo personnel. He found it half-hidden by the shadows of an overhang of branches above the door. The back of the building was empty, save for the heavy shrubbery, so he sat down cross-legged next to the door and waited.

It was warm outside. The birds in the birdhouse were chirping loudly, and Russell found their chant oddly appeasing. The sunny weather, the calm, the solitude... Russell liked it. It would've been nice to have a life so tranquil and peaceful all the time. Russell could feel his eyelids grow heavy with drowsiness under the sunlight, grass tickling the skin right above his socks where the hem of his pants wasn't covering it. Yes, this was very nice. He wished he had something softer than the wall to lean against, so he could sleep. He was feeling tired, even if he'd slept well at Kantera's.

Suddenly, he heard the door next to him click, and he moved away from it so that he wouldn't hinder its opening. It revealed a familiar green silhouette, only today the zookeeper wasn't wearing his hood, probably because it would've been too hot to. For the first time, Russell saw what Tabasa looked like without his hood, and something inside of him wiggled when he saw the tuft of hair bouncing around on top of the zookeeper's head. Something that made him feel like he was being tickled inside.

When Tabasa noticed the small figure standing next to him, he had a slight movement of surprise and met the dull blue eyes of the boy he hadn't seen for a month. Not only was Tabasa incredibly surprised by this sudden and unexpected apparition, he also noticed something odd yet pleasing on the boy's face: a tiny, flitting smile. However, it was gone so fast that he wasn't sure he'd seen it. His eyes widened.

"Russell?"

A month ago, the boy had disappeared without warning, and Tabasa hadn't understood why. He still didn't, and now he was even more confused. Last time Russell had missed a day, he'd been injured. When he'd disappeared a second time, Tabasa had been worried, and as days and weeks passed, he'd ended up thinking that the boy wouldn't come back. That maybe something worse had happened.

Russell said hello.

Chapter Text

The zookeeper let go of the two buckets in his hands and grabbed the boy by the shoulders, his deep blue eyes briefly dipping down, noticing the sling, and then flying back up to Russell's face.

"Are you all right? What happened to you? ....What happened to your arm?"

Russell was taken aback by the slew of questions and Tabasa's frantic demeanor. He didn't answer. The zookeeper stared at him some more, then seemed to realize that he was holding the boy's shoulders and let go of him, instead kneeling on the ground in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Russell... I'm asking too many questions at once. ...But first of all, and most importantly, are you all right?"

Russell nodded, puzzled by the man's serious expression. Yes, everything was fine. The zookeeper sighed, briefly closing his eyes, and when he opened them again Russell felt like he was being pierced by the intensity of his blue gaze.

"What happened? ....Why did you disappear?"

Russell gazed back at him. He hadn't thought about an explanation for that. He hadn't thought that Tabasa would ask. Tabasa looked a bit upset, so Russell spontaneously said sorry. The zookeeper leaned back a bit, studying Russell's face. Then he sighed again.

"Apologizing, huh... I thought you'd gotten hurt again or something... I thought you weren't coming back. You really gave me a fright, you know..."

But Russell didn't want to tell him that he'd disappeared because thinking of the zookeeper had prevented him from killing Gardenia. That was probably a very bad idea: Tabasa wasn't like Kantera. He would find such a thing to be strange, and maybe he'd react in a bad way if he knew. So Russell ended up saying that he didn't want to tell. Tabasa frowned slightly, and he had the face of someone who couldn't figure out the solution to a particularly complicated enigma.

"...Why?"

Russell looked away and said that it wasn't important. Tabasa briefly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his face was very serious.

"...No, Russell, that's not how it works. I need to understand. It's important to me, I need to know why you suddenly disappeared. You can't just leave me like this without warning... Do you understand?"

No, Russell didn't understand. He'd just come here to ask him a question.

Tabasa leaned back on his heels. It was still exhausting talking with this little guy. He pondered the situation for a moment. It was clear to him that Russell would not open up any time soon, but he didn't want to yield right away. He didn't want Russell to think he could pull this kind of crap and then expect Tabasa to go along with whatever he wanted, even if it was just answering a question.

"...Okay, look, Russell. Let's make a deal. ...You can ask me that question if you answer one of mine first, okay?"

Russell tilted his head slightly to the side, as if considering the offer, and then nodded in agreement.

"...All right. Then tell me what happened to your arm."

The boy's eyes flitted down towards his sling before returning to the zookeeper's face. His mouth opened, and he said he'd fallen on a table.

"...Was it an accident?" asked the man.

Russell didn't answer right away, but he did end up saying yes.

Tabasa noticed his brief hesitation, and asked: "What I meant was, did someone cause this to happen?"

This time, Russell didn't say anything, which by now Tabasa knew how to interpret as admission.
The zookeeper studied the boy's face closely. If he was feeling any distress, his face didn't betray any of it.

"...Russell, I let it slide last time, for your eye. But this time, I want to know what really happened. Usually, I don't insist, but do you really think I haven't noticed how often you come here with bruises? ....Is someone hurting you?"

Russell didn't answer, his dull eyes remaining still as he stared at the zookeeper.

"You can tell me. ....Are you being bullied?"

Russell averted his eyes. He didn't want to say. His voice was strangely quiet, quieter than usual. Tabasa felt like pushing any further would break some thin line drawn between them, so he softly grabbed the boy by the shoulder again, and when Russell looked back at him, he smiled in what he hoped was a comforting way.

"It's fine, Russ. ....I get it. You've said enough. You can ask me that question of yours now."

There was no use insisting. Besides, Tabasa was starting to get a fair idea of why Russell was often sporting bruises. All he needed to know now was the person responsible, but each thing in its own time.

The boy didn't speak at first. Russell was struggling with his question. He didn't know how to formulate his thoughts. The whole thinking-of-Tabasa thing was pretty vague in the first place, even to him, so how was he supposed to share this problem with Tabasa himself? The zookeeper wasn't saying anything, patiently waiting for Russell to find the right words. Finally, the boy looked up again and opened his mouth, and Tabasa noticed how hesitant he seemed to be. Russell asked the zookeeper if he knew why he kept appearing in the boy's mind, despite them not meeting or talking for a month. If he knew why this was happening to him.

Tabasa's brows flew up. The way Russell spoke about it, it sounded like some kind of disease. He wasn't sure what to think about the question, and he cautiously asked: "...Do you mean... Something like, you think about me often?"

Russell looked pensive. Not... often, really, more like during important moments.

"...What kind of important moments?"

Russell didn't answer that question.

Tabasa didn't even try to interpret this silence, and instead tried to answer Russell's original question. He didn't know if Russell was normal enough to know the concept of caring for someone, and he was a bit afraid that the boy would think Tabasa was taking him for an idiot if he did know about it, but he had a hypothesis and he was going to roll with it.

"... I'm not sure, but it probably means that you care enough about me to think about me, even when we don't see each other. Do you think that could be it?"

Russell's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but Tabasa was keeping a close eye on his reactions and this didn't escape his attention.

Russell didn't understand. How was it possible that he cared about Tabasa? He looked down at his hands. How had that influenced the way his fingers shook when he'd almost burned down the church? However complicated it was for him to understand the reason behind it, Russell found that in the deepest recesses of his heart, he felt it was possible that he cared about Tabasa. Why else would he have thought about Tabasa shunning him if he ever went through with killing? Why else would he have felt... worried by the perspective of the zookeeper disliking him? Because that had been worry he'd felt, he recognized it now. But he was so careful not to care... He was so careful not to feel involved... He didn't understand how this had happened.

He looked up at Tabasa, at the zookeeper with the green hooded coat and the nice blue eyes and the colourful hair ornament and the bouncing tuft of hair on the top of his head, at the man who cared for animals and felt worried when Russell had an injured eye. And he realized he felt scared, again, but a different type of fright: not the uneasy apprehension he felt when he didn't understand feelings or people or himself, but the breath-shortening, heart-stopping, finger-shaking fright he'd felt when a stranger had tried to drag him to his house, when he'd first considered that what was happening to him wasn't sickness but a very real, very new way of feeling. He was scared for himself. He was scared that he was feeling a good feeling. He was scared that this unknown, strange, oddly pleasing feeling was going to change him for good. He didn't want to change. It was better not to feel what normal people felt, it was better not to care, because then it didn't hurt as much as it used to. He was scared of feeling pain again.

He didn't want this, he realized. He'd always known that he had to avoid caring, but now that it had become a frightening reality, he felt like it was too late to escape, that no matter how long or how far he ran away from Tabasa, this feeling of caring would remain. And then there would be pain.

Because caring always resulted in pain, and the very last time he'd felt it twisting his heart and crushing his soul, something inside of him had snapped and bled out along his bunny. He'd become unable to feel pain, and he'd also become unable of feeling any feelings at all except some like curiosity. Up until now, he'd managed to avoid any and every kind of deep pain.
At least, that's what he had thought until now. He'd thought he was safe, until right this very moment where he realized that the broken thing inside of him could still be fixed. And he didn't want that. He didn't want it to be fixed.

Was it too late? He already cared about Tabasa. The zookeeper was just staring at him, as if expecting him to speak. Russell didn't want to speak. He didn't know what to say. He just felt scared. He took a step back.

Tabasa started feeling a bit apprehensive when the boy looked up at him with eyes that suddenly didn't seem as dull as they usually were, and there was something in them like... an internal struggle. For a moment, Tabasa remembered what Russell had done to him when they'd met for the first time. He was reminded that the last time he'd seen any kind of expression on the boy's face, there had been painful consequences. He was so used to the boy's small size, wide blue eyes and young, expressionless face by now that he'd almost forgotten how dangerous Russell could really be. He looked around quickly to check that there were no potential weapons around for Russell to use, but there were none aside from a few pebbles on the ground. The zookeeper looked back at Russell, and then he finally noticed that something was different this time. What ticked him off was the way Russell was staring at him like he was some kind of threat.

A threat. The last thing someone could ever consider the zookeeper as, especially when that someone was the boy who had attempted to kill him.

When Russell took a step back, Tabasa understood that the boy was going to bolt out of here like a squirrel up a tree if he made the wrong move, and that would be the end of their relationship, whatever that was.

"Russell?" he cautiously asked.

The boy took another step back and just continued staring at him. One of his arms was half-raised, as if about to shield himself from something.

"You're not going anywhere, are you?"

Everything about Russell's face was blank except for his eyes, which looked deeply unsettled; otherwise, he wasn't reacting to his words. Tabasa reached an open hand out to the boy, but Russell took two steps back and slowly shook his head.

The zookeeper understood that this required different measures than usual, and he started talking to the boy in the same soft voice he used when he had to calm down one of the rabbits in Little Farm after a particularly noisy kid spooked it. If Russell took one more step back, and if he decided to run, then catching him before he managed to hide in the crowd of tourists and visitors would be near impossible with that head start. And then, bye-bye Russell.

"Hey, Russ. Come on, buddy... What's wrong?"

The boy's blue eyes were trained on him and Tabasa was pretty sure that if Russell had any whiskers, they'd be twitching in fright. He had no idea what had gotten him so badly scared, but Tabasa was rather confident in his skills of comforting spooked little guys- even if this one wasn't a rabbit. Tabasa started rising from his kneeling position very, very slowly, his arm still cautiously outstretched towards the boy.

"...What's the matter, Russ? Are you scared of something...?"

The boy's eyes followed the man as he stood up, his body tense and poised to run. He wasn't really listening to the words coming out of the zookeeper's mouth, but something about his voice kept him in place. It was a voice with light, soft intonations, but firm enough that it made Russell hesitate.

"Listen, Russell... There's nothing to be afraid of here. Nothing."

Tabasa took a leisurely step forward, the movement so easy and innate that Russell didn't realize that the zookeeper was acting any different than he usually did. He knew he had to back away, but his feet felt frozen in place, and he was stuck there, he was stuck in front of the zookeeper who was still speaking to him in that gentle, steady voice which he didn't want to ignore.

"It's just me. ...Me, Tabasa. Just the zookeeper. Why are you afraid?"

Something within Russell's stomach was trying to get him to move, deep down in the pit of his stomach, cold and urgent, but there was a much bigger, warmer, heavier something closing in on his heart, preventing him from following that impulse. It was keeping him where he was, assuredly, but it didn't feel bad; his heart was held in place but it also felt versatile and light, and he was lost. He was completely, utterly lost.

"We haven't gone to Little Farm yet, you know? The rabbits will be sad not to see you..."

The zookeeper wanted him to stay, when all he wanted to do was run. Why couldn't he run? Why couldn't he break free from Tabasa's calm voice?

"What is it that's scaring you, Russell? ... There's nothing scary here."

Tabasa took another step, slowly, watching the boy's face for any sign of flight. But Russell wasn't backing away. In fact, the trouble showing through his blue eyes seemed to be dissipating gradually as Tabasa kept conversing in a level voice.

Russell didn't understand what was happening right now, under the sun, right here, between him and the zookeeper: but there was something taking shape, like a link of some sort.

"Russell," said Tabasa as he took a third cautious step forward in the most natural way he could manage. It looked like it was working: the boy's shoulders were progressively easing out of their hunched position.

Russell had to angle his face back to keep staring into Tabasa's eyes as the zookeeper got closer, and he did, unconsciously. The boy could see that the man's blue eyes were showing a meaningful emotion, but one he didn't recognize.

Tabasa asked in a soothing voice: "...You know I care for you too, right? You don't have to be afraid about anything."

Some small, flitting thing briefly appeared behind the lost haze of the boy's pupils, and for a moment Tabasa thought he'd hit a landmine and that the boy was going to vanish right then and there; but nothing happened. The boy stayed were he was. What Tabasa didn't know was that Russell had just realized something: one, that Tabasa was telling the truth, because he'd shown worry before, and that the zookeeper was somehow trying to look after him. Two, that Tabasa had the ability to care, and that he didn't seem in pain despite it, which meant that there was maybe a way to care without suffering.

However, this realization was overcome by Russell's sudden notice of the zookeeper's closeness, and he almost took a step back. But then he understood that although Tabasa was close, he'd gotten back on his knees, and that he wasn't trying to tower over Russell. The man reached out again, his fingers mere centimeters away from Russell's shoulder, something the boy didn't fail to notice but couldn't bring himself to do anything about. Tabasa was smiling warmly at him, his expression as friendly and benevolent as Russell had ever seen it.

"...Russell. Don't be afraid."

And then the zookeeper's placating hand lightly settled on Russell's shoulder. Russell stayed. The link was getting clearer, and what he'd only glimpsed earlier was materializing between them into something real and present. It was starting to feel like Tabasa and him would always be connected somehow. As scary and disturbing the thought was, it also made Russell feel... somewhat safe.

"There, buddy, there. ...That's it. See...? Nothing scary here. ... You're okay. Everything's fine."

The situation which had felt so strained just moments prior loosened when Russell averted his eyes, and Tabasa felt the boy lean into his hand, as if accepting the zookeeper's hold on his shoulder.
The man smiled again, and lifted his other hand to pat the boy's blonde head.

"...There, see, you're okay."

The zookeeper kept petting him for a while, and when the boy seemed to have calmed down completely he asked: "Feeling better, Russell?"

The boy looked back up at him and silently nodded. Indeed, there seemed to be no trace of his earlier panic left in his eyes.

"Good," said Tabasa, and he genuinely felt that it was. "...You want to talk about what just happened?"

This time, Russell shook his head in a definite refusal. Quietly, as usual. Tabasa gave his head one last pat and then let go of Russell to get back to his feet.

"That's fine, don't worry. Let's go feed the the foxes. ...Remember them?"

Russell nodded. He remembered the foxes. Bat-eared foxes, a latin name which ended in -lotis, he thought.

"Yeah, that's it. Otocyon megalotis. You've got quite the memory on you, Russ, that's impressive..."

Russell shrugged like it was nothing special and started walking. Tabasa picked up the two buckets he was carrying out of the Birdhouse and hurried after the boy. He wished he knew what had thrown Russell in such a troubled state, but he didn't want to push the boy's limits, not after what had just happened. Especially not now that Russell had come back.

Chapter Text

Russell closed the book in front of him and stared at the cover. The illustration was a tall grey brick tower with only one window, and there were strange symbols carved in the roof. Russell never managed to make out what they were, since the drawing as cut off there at the top of the cover. A rope hung down the single, dark window dug into the side of the tower. The story told of an old, old witch who lived alone and kept all the knowledge of the world to herself inside her many magic books, but was one day convinced by a lost, wandering girl that it was better to share it than to keep it. It was an interesting story, and Russell liked to read it because it also had very nice-looking illustrations. The witch's face was always hidden underneath her dark hood, and he'd given up long ago on trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes on the many drawings depicting her. It seemed the artist's intention had been to keep it a secret what she really looked like. The witch reminded him of his grandma. She also kept a lot of books to herself.

The girl, on the other hand, didn't remind him of any girl he knew. After all, he didn't know many. The girl did remind him of Chris, however: she was a bit rash in her actions, just like his friend, and she was smart and brave. She didn't show much respect for the witch, either, but the witch in the story didn't mind her talking like that.

Russell looked up and gazed at the people in the library with him. Passerbys. Strangers. People who didn't know him, people who didn't care. They would forget him and he would forget them. He wondered if any of them had broken insides like him. He looked back down at the book. Tabasa was in his thoughts, again. He couldn't shake free of them. He'd felt oddly appeased by Tabasa's touch at the zoo, despite feeling blinding fright just moments before. There was something strange going on between them, and every time he remembered about it, he felt a twist in his gut. There was no nice zookeeper to calm him down at those times, and he felt anxious. What if it really was a bad idea to continue seeing Tabasa? What if he'd been on the right path avoiding the man? What if he had been close to getting better, but had crushed his chances by going to the zoo that day? There were so many what if's in his head that he couldn't get a moment's rest.

Russell rose from his chair and walked over to the shelf to put back the book. Then his gaze roamed over the other storybooks that lined the shelves. He didn't feel like reading another book now that he was thinking about Tabasa. He turned around, and walked to Chris's seat. The boy looked up from the magazine he was holding, and Russell saw that he was staring at an ad for a toy gun. He wondered why there was an ad for a toy gun in a science-themed magazine, and chalked it up to adult logic. Chris grinned at him.

"Cool, huh? Mom's not gettin' me one, that's for sure, but I'm still askin' for it."

Now Russell remembered it was going to be Christmas soon, and realized that was probably the reason why there was such an ad in the magazine. Maybe Chris wasn't going to get exactly what he wanted, but his mom would surely try to make their Christmas a good one nonetheless. He himself wasn't going to ask for anything this year either, and there would be no change of decoration in his house. Maybe his parents would buy themselves a bottle of cheap wine to celebrate, just for the sake of celebrating. Just for the illusion of a special day. There would be nothing for him, as usual. When his friend didn't answer, Chris closed his magazine.

"You wanna go?"

Russell nodded again, so Chris stood up and put on his coat. Russell went to grab his own ratty jacket, and he joined Chris at the entrance. His friend hadn't put back the magazine and had left it lying on the table, unconcerned by the library's rules and the general concept of good behaviour. They walked outside. It was cold, and Russell shivered. The wind was fickle, its breath weak but snaking into the holes of his jacket and sliding across his back and belly. Chris noticed his shaking and unwrapped the scarf from his neck to hand it to Russell. The blonde looked at it.

"Take it, Russ. Don' wanna get sick."

Russell said thanks and donned the scarf.

"Man," sighed Chris, digging his hands in his coat pockets. "Why don't your folks give you better clothes?"

Russell didn't answer, and Chris wasn't surprised. Whenever he asked about why Russell's parents ever did anything, his only answer was either silence or a shrug. He understood why Russell only answered that way: it wasn't like he could do anything about the way his parents acted. Chris himself could only help so much.

"You can keep the scarf, I've got another one at home," said Chris.

Russell shook his head. He couldn't just take the scarf like that, it wasn't his.

"Well now it is," retorted Chris. "I can't get you a coat, but I can give you this. So take it."

Russell buried the lower half of his face in the scarf and said thanks, again.

"You're welcome," smiled Chris, and then jokingly added: "Let's jus' say it's your Christmas present."

Russell looked at him, and the look on his face reminded Chris that Russell wasn't very good with interpreting tone of voice. He wrapped his arm around the other's shoulder and loudly said:

"Don't look at me like that! I just felt like givin' it to you, it's not really a Christmas present. You don't have to feel bad about it just because you don't have a present for me."

The smaller boy looked back ahead. His hunched shoulders, still shivering from the cold, felt thin under Chris's arm, and Chris wondered yet again if Russell's parents even cared about how well he ate. It was hard to guess how difficult things were in Russell's home, beyond the money problems and the hitting. No one really knew what went on in there, even Chris. He'd only gone there a few times, when the parents weren't around. It had been pretty obvious money problems weren't the only reason why Russell had such shitty clothes, when Chris had seen what was supposed to be his friend's bed. Lack of money wasn't an excuse for everything.

"Wanna eat at my house? How about you spend the night?" suddenly asked Chris.

His mother wasn't especially glad when Russell came over, because it meant having to feed another mouth with nothing in return, but Chris felt bad whenever he thought about Russell's home. If this was the only thing he could do, then he'd do it. But Russell shook his head. There was something he had to do.

"All right," said Chris. He didn't ask what it was. If Russell wasn't telling him, then that simply meant he didn't want him to know.

They parted ways three streets away from the library, and Russell headed to the eastern part of town. He'd decided to go see Kantera to talk about Tabasa. The doctor welcomed him as soon as the jingle sounded when he pushed the door. There were a few people in the shop, as it wasn't closing time yet, but Russell was taken aback. He hadn't thought there would be anyone there besides Kantera: he was used to the empty shop. The doctor smiled at him from behind the counter.

"Hello, Russell. What brings you along on such a cold day? Are you looking for a bit of shelter, perhaps?"

Russell just needed to talk. The doctor's look grew concerned.

"Ah, then you will have to wait a bit. I hope it is nothing bad?"

The boy shook his head, walked behind one of the shelves and out of view of the doctor and the people, and waited. He saw that the red spider lilies were withering. The doctor would have to change them soon.

When the clock finally reached closing hours, Kantera locked the door and turned to Russell, who was still standing behind the same shelf. Before he could say anything, however, Russell walked up to him and asked Kantera if it happened sometimes for him to be so preoccupied with someone he couldn't do anything else but think about that person. The doctor smiled strangely.

"Why, yes, it happens. Unfortunately, it is not always a pleasing matter. Why do you ask me such a question?"

Russell told him about the nice zookeeper that made him feel different from usual, that made him feel like he could change inside. It was vague, because he didn't want to get into too much detail, but it seemed like the doctor understood despite that. Kantera didn't answer right away. He beckoned the boy towards the back room, and they walked through the green curtain. Then the doctor sat down, and Russell did the same. The doctor stayed silent a long while, his hands laying flat in his lap, his gaze lost in thought. Russell noticed that the teapot which was usually on the table was on one of the room's red shelves. The silence stretched out, and Russell thought the doctor was trying to find an explanation, but Kantera surprised him with another question.

"Russell, tell me... Do you sometimes feel like you lost something..." Kantera trailed off, then picked up his sentence again. "Do you sometimes feel like a piece of you broke away?"

The boy considered the man's question. For the longest time, he hadn't realized that was the way he felt, and when he had, it was because he'd discovered there was a possibility to pick up that piece and stick it back where it belonged.

"How could that be?" asked the doctor. "How could you put yourself back together?"

Russell shrugged. He had no idea. The doctor looked down at his hands. His face was strange, like something within him was fighting to get out.

"Russell... I thought..."

He struggled with his words, then sighed. His shoulders sagged.

"Never mind that. Then, about that zookeeper... He is the one who is changing you, isn't he?"

Russell stared at Kantera. He wasn't sure if he was changing, but Tabasa had helped him see that it was possible. Kantera smiled another one of his strange smiles.

"Yes, Russell, you are changing. Your eyes were different when we first met." He hesitated, and then continued. "You and I were the same, not so long ago. I..."

He stopped, and closed his eyes. It looked like the doctor had many things to say but didn't know how to, and Russell had no idea what to do in that kind of situation. So he remained still and silent.

"I do not know how much you have changed, but I need to know if..."

Kantera's gaze drifted to his left, towards the small corner of the kitchen. Then he looked back at Russell with different eyes, in which the pain had been replaced by something new. They seemed clearer, although his voice was still hesitant.

"Russell, you have killed before, have you not?"

Russell's eyes didn't flicker. They were trained on the doctor. Kantera watched the boy's expressionless face for a moment, then looked away. He got up and walked to one of the drawers next to his bed, pulled it open and picked up an object from within. Then he turned around and got closer to Russell to show him what he was holding. It was a picture of an old man with the same slanted eyes as Kantera. The portrait had a black frame, with a black ribbon wound around it.
Russell stared at the picture, then at the doctor. Kantera was contemplating him with a bizarre expression.

"This was my grandfather, the one I spoke to you about so many times before." Kantera set down the portrait on the table. "You should know what I did. My grandfather, he... He is the one. The spider lilies in my shop are for him. He is the one I killed."

Russell didn't say a word.

"I did love him, you know. He was truly the person I cared the most about. Have you ever cared about someone so much, that you could not bear to watch them wither?"

Russell didn't say a word.

"I respected him deeply. He was clever and wise, and so marvelously gifted in medicine making... Yet he grew old, and senile, and he whose mouth once spun such wisdom merely hung open. He started to forget. He could not even make his own medication any longer. Do you know how it feels, to watch a loved one slowly lose themselves?"

The pain bled in Kantera's gaze again as he spoke. Russell didn't say a word.

"Grandfather loved manjuu, more than you and me. Even as he grew older, and older, and forgot to eat and lacked appetite... If I offered him manjuu, he would happily eat it. I would go down the mountain to the confectionery, day after day, simply to see his beaming face."

Kantera lifted his hands to his face, hiding his eyes. He kept standing there, next to the silent boy.

"In the end, he would not eat his medicine unless it was slipped in his manjuu. Ah, Grandfather... He told me it was the same as always, that manjuu."

Kantera fell to his knees slowly, softly. Russell watched him from where he sat, gazed at his trembling shoulders.

"He told me it tasted the same as always, even if it was the last. Even if the medicine was different.
I could not endure it anymore, I was at wit's end."

His voice was shaky. His shoulders drooped, so low it seemed he was carrying the weight of the world on his back.

"I killed him. I killed him, and ran away. Yet the day I poisoned him, I poisoned myself. I have been riddled with guilt ever since. Do you know it? The guilt of having killed someone? I thought I had done a merciful act, but there was never meant to be a happy ending. I could only try to escape."

Kantera lifted his face out of his hands and looked up at the boy, tears sliding down his face. His face was a tortured mask, one Russell had never seen him wear before.

"Kiling him was even more quick and hollow than I thought. He was there, and then he was not. You understand, do you not?"

Then Kantera gently grabbed Russell's sleeve. His eyes were reddened from the tears, his face was pale, and the boy was suddenly reminded of the way dogs sometimes begged with sad, wide eyes. The doctor had the same expression.

".......Say. Would you kill me? You're familiar, are you not? I've even had nightmares lately.... »

Kantera bowed his head.

" .......I beg of you. I leave the means to your discretion."

Russell stared at Kantera silently. The doctor gazed back at him with equal intensity, his cheeks wet and ghostly in the slowly dimming light of the room. His hands were trembling, his breathing was laboured from the sobbing. Then Russell slid off his seat and walked to the kitchen corner Kantera had glanced at a few minutes prior. He slid open the first drawer, which contained bamboo mats, chopsticks, chopstick holders, and small saucers. He closed it and opened the next drawer, where he found spoons, forks, and knives. The boy slid his hand in the drawer, and his fingers wrapped around the second biggest knife's handle. It was long and exceptionally sharp. Its handle was wide and heavy in Russell's palm, as it was meant to be held by an adult hand. He closed the drawer quietly, and stepped back to the table. The doctor was still kneeling where Russell had left him, with his head hung low. When he heard the boy's footsteps approaching, Kantera looked up and smiled.

"Ahh, that's a good knife." Kantera closed his eyes. "Will you kill me with that, then?"

Russell held the knife close to his chest. The doctor, Kantera, who had taught him about dragons and spider lilies and eastern funerals and manjuu and festivals, whose shop smelled like a different world, who had made him tea and allowed him to spend nights here, who had offered him the best cooking Russell had ever tasted, who shared the knowledge of his impulses but didn't condemn him for it, was kneeling in front of him waiting to be cut down. Russell gazed at the man whose eyes were closed. Then he wordlessly set the knife on the table, next to the portrait.

So the doctor thought Russell was a killer just like him. That was why he'd given him shelter, and that was why they had been friends. So Russell would feel indebted, so Kantera could finally be killed in the end. It all amounted to one thing: he'd been used. Any other person would have felt betrayed, but Russell didn't feel anything. Everything he'd just thought and understood were facts to him, nothing more, nothing less.

Kantera's eyes opened when nothing happened, and he looked up. His grey slanted eyes met Russell's young blue ones, and the man and the boy exchanged gazes for a while. Russell didn't understand why Kantera wanted to die, and he knew he owed Kantera for all the nice things he'd been given. However, he didn't want to kill Kantera even if he owed him. If he killed Kantera, he would lose what he had with Tabasa, and he found within himself that he didn't want that at all, even if he had no idea why. Then the doctor spoke.

"I am too late," whispered Kantera. "You are not the same anymore."

Russell continued staring at him and didn't say anything. Kantera lowered his head, and two teardrops landed on his blue yukata. Then he quietly spoke.

"Russell... You should not be scared of the zookeeper. He is nothing bad."

Russell didn't answer.
Kantera didn't speak again.
The knife was next to the portrait.
The teapot on the red shelf was empty.
The red spider lilies in the shop were withering.
The lights in the shop shone golden.
Dead leaves scattered in the street.

Russell left Kantera's shop.

Chapter Text

"Say, Russell... What do you do on your free time?"

Russell looked up at the zookeeper. Tabasa was stepping out of the giraffes' pen, a huge building that allowed the animals to sleep safely at night. The boy thought a bit, then answered that he usually played video games when he had nothing else to do. Tabasa looked down at Russell and raised his eyebrows.

"Huh... I'm a bit suprised. I didn't think you were the kind of guy who liked those."

Then he shifted the bucket he was holding from one hand to the other and shrugged lightly.

"...I guess I'm more of a traditional myself. I've got plenty of crosswords and other puzzles at home. ...Maybe we could try it out together, if you're interested."

Russell followed Tabasa as he started walking towards the camels' area.

"I could bring you some. I've been stuck on several for a while now... maybe you could help me, huh?" The zookeeper turned to him. "What do you say?"

The blonde considered the offer. It could help pass time when his parents were home, since he couldn't use the TV then. He looked up at Tabasa and nodded.

"Great, then... I'll bring them next Tuesday. How's that sound?"

Okay, answered Russell. Tabasa smiled at the boy.

"It's a deal then. Wait here for a minute, I'll be back soon."

He entered the camel's building, and Russell stayed outside to wait. The weather was getting colder these days, and the jacket he had to wear during the whole time was getting really worn out. He was lucky to have Chris' scarf. Russell had tried to ask his mother for a coat, or at least a new jacket, but she'd brushed him off by waving her hand angrily, without a word, the way she had of waving a fly away. It was a gesture which very clearly indicated she didn't want to see him, even less listen to him.

Russell burrowed his face in his friend's scarf. It still smelled the way Chris's house did, but he knew that the scent would quickly disappear, snuffed out by the cloying smell of beer. Nothing could escape it. Russell took his hands out of his pockets and scrutinized the back of his hands. The skin there was dry and itchy and tiny bumps were starting to appear, the way it happened every winter. His skin didn't handle cold very well, and it didn't help that he'd lost a glove at school. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and shivered. It wasn't yet cold to the point of blowing little clouds of mist the way smokers did, but it was cold enough. Usually Russell tried to spend the most amount of time he possibly could in warm places during winters, but he liked coming here despite the cold.

Russell heard a shuffle ahead of him and raised his head. Tabasa was stepping out of the building with a second empty bucket in his hands and a stack of stray under his arm. Some strands of hay were hanging from his dark green coat, but he didn't bother to brush them off. The boy walked up to him and closed the door in his stead to help.

"Thanks, Russell," said the zookeeper with a grateful smile. Russell didn't answer, but he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Then they walked to Little Farm. Tabasa set down his empty buckets and went to open the first cage. He grabbed a handful of old stray and threw it in one of the buckets, then pulled out clean stray from the stack under his arm and pushed it inside. As he did that, he looked to the side to check what Russell was doing. The boy was sitting on the ground in front of Snowball, who seemed to be his favourite rabbit in Little Farm. Tabasa smiled and finished the cage he was tending to, closed it, and opened another. After a moment of comfortable silence, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey, I was thinking... I know you like animals, but what about fish? I heard the aquarium's pretty nice... Never got around to going there, though."

Russell looked away from the big white rabbit in front of him and asked why he'd never gone. The zookeeper sounded like he wanted to go, after all. Tabasa seemed thoughtful at the question and he shrugged with one shoulder.

"Well, I don't really know... I guess... I just don't think about it because I never get bored. I like my job, but it takes up a lot of my time, you know?" The young man smiled as he said that, and he stroked one of the smaller rabbits. This one had dark fur. "Guess I'll go when I really feel like it..."

Russell watched him pet the rabbit for a few more moments before turning back to Snowball. He'd gone there before, once, a long time ago.

"Really... What's it like?" asked the zookeeper with great interest. He waited for the answer without stopping his work, retrieving the dirty straw and making sure the water was clean.

Russell didn't answer right away, and Tabasa didn't try press him. The boy was remembering something, something nice that he'd forgotten for a while because he hadn't thought about the aquarium since then. The aquarium was a nice memory for Russell. He'd gone there when he was younger, a lot younger, and he'd met a girl there. She'd had long silver hair, green eyes, and he distinctly remembered her red dress and the white scarf she carried in her arms. She'd been alone and lost, so he'd taken her by the hand and helped her around the aquarium. She'd told him many interesting things, like the fact that the fish they could see in the aquarium weren't the only living things in the sea. There were also life forms so small no one could see them, like bacteria. Russell had been impressed by her knowledge. She was even able to tell him the names of the different fish there. When he'd told her how great he found her to be, she'd smiled shyly at him, and he'd felt pleased to see that she was happy of the compliment. She hadn't asked him for his name, and he hadn't thought of asking hers. She'd found her parents, and they'd waved at each other before parting ways. It was nice memory, and Russell wondered if he was able to make any more of those.

He remembered Tabasa was right next to him and still waiting for an answer, so he simply said the fish were pretty. The zookeeper nodded appreciatively.

"That sounds cool. Maybe we could go there together, you know?"

Russell watched him tuck in the stray of the third rabbit cage. He'd never thought of going back there. He and Chris didn't talk about going places together, and Chris was the only person he could've gone with. But now there was Tabasa, and he was the one who wanted to go after all, so there was really no reason for Russell to hesitate. ...It could be nice. Russell stopped petting the rabbit and pulled the sleeves of his old jacket over his hands to warm them up as much as he could, then looked up at the zookeeper. Yes, it could be a nice thing to do.

"Then it's a deal!" exclaimed Tabasa happily, shutting the door to the cage. "How about we go during Christmas break? That way we're sure to both be free at the same time. ... Oh, and we could go with your friend, how does that sound?"

Russell nodded. Sure, why not. The school break was in less than two weeks, and he had no plans during it besides hanging out with Chris. The aquarium would be a good place to spend time, even if it was just for one day, and if Chris agreed to come it would be even more worth it to go.
The wind blew stronger and Russell shivered again. It was time for him to find somewhere warm, he'd already been at the zoo for more than an hour. He turned to the zookeeper and told him he was leaving.

"Hold on, Russ." The man closed the cage and turned to him. "I was wondering, don't you have warmer clothes?"

Russell shook his head. Tabasa stared at him thoughtfully.

"Then maybe you shouldn't be hanging out with me in the cold. I don't want you getting sick because of me. Don't you have anywhere warmer to go?"

Russell just stared at him, so Tabasa hurriedly added: "Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't want to see you. ...I just don't think it's a good idea for you to stay outside so long without a proper coat."

Russell looked down at his jacket, then back at the zookeeper. He didn't mind the cold that much, but if Tabasa didn't want him at the zoo, then he wouldn't come anymore. The boy's face didn't change, but the words he spoke made Tabasa feel like Russell was quite unhappy about what he'd just said. Tabasa shook his head in protest.

"No, Russ, that's not what I'm saying. It's not that I don't want you at the zoo, I'm just worried that you might catch a cold dressed like that."

Russell shoved his fists deeper down his pockets, his shoulders hunched as he spoke with a quiet voice. He wanted to come here, and if Tabasa really wanted him to be warm, then couldn't he just stay in Tabasa's room? The zookeeper tensed slightly, and then relaxed just as fast. Russell staying in his room didn't mean he had to be there with him. Besides, the monkeys had gotten better a long time ago and there was only a parrot in one of the cages now, and Russell already knew all that. If he was the one suggesting this idea, then that probably meant it wouldn't be an issue.

"You could do that, yeah... I won't be with you, though."

Russell shrugged. It was fine, he'd just go there if he started getting cold. Otherwise, he'd stay with Tabasa while he tended to the animals. It wasn't what Tabasa had in mind when he'd started this conversation, but it wasn't like he could force the boy to stay somewhere else. At least they'd reached somewhat of a compromise.

"All right, let's say that's settled. ... Are you leaving right now, then?"

Russell nodded, so the zookeeper said goodbye.

Chapter Text

Russell didn't especially like fall and winter. Not only were they cold seasons, but they also made him stand out at school, because he was the only one without a real coat. His warmest jacket really wasn't that warm at all, and the tears and gaps at the end of his sleeves and along the bottom of the jacket got him noticed by the others. He didn't like it when others paid too much attention to him, especially when the others were his classmates. It wasn't that he minded their insistent stares and their gossiping whispers, but he simply disliked being the center of their attention. He felt more at ease when they ignored his existence and forgot him.

When he went to school the next day and slipped into his seat, he noticed Chris wasn't there. His friend was skipping class again, for the fourth day in a row. Russell knew Chris hadn't been dealing on school time, either, because he'd checked their spot on the second day and his friend had been nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was sick. Russell decided he would go check on his friend after school.

"My mom and dad said the police found him dead three days later."

Russell raised his head and he looked at the group of girls that were talking a few desks away. He noticed Gardenia was with them.

"That's creepy! Why did no one find him before?"

"I don't know, maybe no one came to see him."

"But wasn't it a shop? I mean, there had to be clients, right?"

"I said I didn't know!" The girl lowered her voice in a conspiring tone, though Russell could still hear her from where he sat. "I heard Dad say that it was poison."

Russell stood up. Their conversation felt familiar.

"You mean someone killed him?"

"They're not sure yet. My dad's friend is in the police, he said it might be a suicide."

"You mean he drank the poison himself?"

"No, it was in his food."

"But... isn't poison painful?" asked Gardenia.

She was answered with a shrug. "I don't know, they didn't say."

"... It's so sad," said the white-haired girl softly.

The girls fell silent for a short while. One of them noticed Russell was looking, but then she turned her gaze away and ignored him. Another one spoke.

"I saw him once. I thought he was weird, but he didn't look depressed or anything like that."

"Yeah, I think my parents talked about him too once, they said he probably came from another country."

"But still, poison... That's scary."

"How do you know about all that? I thought the police was really careful with that kind of information."

"I listened from behind the door while Dad was talking to his friend."

"You would get in so much-"

The girl cut off when she felt someone touch her shoulder, and when she looked up and saw Russell, she recoiled.

"Don't touch me! What do you want?" she snapped at him.

Russell retrieved his hand and quietly asked who was dead. He felt he already knew the answer, but he wanted to make sure.

"Why do you want to know? Mind your own business, we're talking."

She turned her back on him. The other girls stared at him, waiting for him to leave so they could resume their conversation, but he stayed there.

"Go away, Russell," said another girl.

He didn't go away. He wanted to know who was dead.

"A shopkeeper died, in the eastern part of town," said Gardenia.

Russell looked at her and asked if it was the one who sold plants and medicine, if it was the doctor with the kimono and slanted eyes. Gardenia nodded slowly.

"I think so. Did you know him?"

She gazed at him with searching blue eyes when she asked, her voice gentle but also curious. Russell didn't answer. He just turned away and walked back to his desk to get his stuff.

"What a creep."

"Why did you even ask him, Gardenia? He never answers."

Russell went to Kantera's shop. He didn't even feel the cold. He wanted to make sure what the girls had said was real, that they weren't just rumors, that Gardenia hadn't been mistaken. When he reached the shop, the lights were off. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. He stuck his face to the glass and peered inside. The shelves were still filled with all kinds of pots and boxes, but there was no light emanating from behind the curtain. Nothing moved. The spider lilies at the counter were dead and withered. Russell stepped back, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

The doctor was gone. He'd died after Russell had left him alone. Russell put his back against the glass and slid down into a sitting position, and he stayed there, watching the alley and its rare passerbys. Was the doctor really at peace, now that he had died? Would the police send his body back to his country? Would his bones be burned? Would he sleep with the floating fish and swaying higanbana flowers? Would he find his grandfather again?

Was any of that afterlife real at all?

Russell stayed there for a long while, out in the cold with dead leaves dancing on the street. There would be no more tea, no more cooking, no more talking about the doctor's home country. No more picking herbs and eating manjuu. All of that was gone now.

The doctor was gone.

Kantera really was gone.

Russell got up again when the cold started seeping into his bones from sitting so still on the sidewalk, and he decided to go see his friend just as he'd planned to earlier. When Russell knocked on Chris's door, he heard his friend swear inside. The cursing was followed by angry footsteps, then the door swung open and Chris barked: "What?"

When he saw Russell was standing there, he said : "Oh, Russ."

His expression shifted from angry harsh lines to a friendly and apologetic smile.

"Sorry, man, we keep gettin' bothered by religious guys who think we need their crap, so I'm a bit wound up. What're you here for? Wanna come inside?"

Russell stepped in Chris's house and his friend closed the door behind him. Russell asked why he hadn't been at school for four days.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that man, my mom's sick and I gotta look after her. You're bored without me, that it?"

Chris smiled widely, but he had bags under his eyes. Russell asked if she was very sick, and Chris's smile melted off his face like butter in a pan.

"She caught a really bad cold. I'm sure she'll be fine, but... I keep sayin' she should go see a doctor, but she doesn't wanna, and it's not like I can drag her there, y'know."

Russell knew. He asked if there was anything he could do to help.

"Can you go grab some cold medicine for me? And we're almost out of cough syrup, so if you could go get that as well, that'd be swell. I don't wanna leave her by herself."

Russell said that he could, and then asked if Chris was okay. His friend looked at him, seemed to hesitate.

"I'm... I'm not doin' that good. I kind feel responsible. I mean, she works so hard for the both of us, and she's so tired... But you shouldn't worry about me, you don't look too good yourself." Russell was taken aback by his friend's observation and it must've shown, because Chris nodded and added: "Yeah, I know you well enough to tell when somethin's wrong. Did somethin' happen? Your parents again?"

Russell shook his head and said it was nothing. Chris didn't insist, and handed him the money he needed to buy the medicine.

"Okay, nevermind. There you go. That should be enough."

Russell took the money and shoved it in his pocket. When he looked up at Chris again, he saw there was something else his friend wanted to say, so he waited. Chris didn't look very sure of himself, but then he finally spoke.

"Hey, that zookeeper guy of yours... Now that you're friends, you don't suppose you could ask him for some money? I didn't earn much this month, and with my mom being sick an' all, we don't have enough."

Russell slowly shook his head, and Chris frowned.

"What, you don't want him to be involved in our lives? It's okay, just tell him some bullshit like, I don't know, you need the money to help for a project of some kind, and then I'll return the money to you next month."

Russell shook his head again. Chris and him knew full well they couldn't borrow any money from anyone, debt was too dangerous for their unstable lifestyles. Chris sighed and ruffled his brown hair.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I shouldn't even have asked in the first place, sorry. It's just that... We're in so much shit this month, me and Mom... It's going to be a tough one to live out."

Russell stared at him, but he didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Chris noticed his friend looking at him and he straightened, a wide smile illuminating his features.

"But hey, we'll make it out all right, just like we always do! You're still welcome here whenever, you know."

Russell nodded and uttered a thank you, and then both boys fell silent. Things were always complicated for Chris and his mom because they cared and wanted the best things for each other, despite their money problems. At least Russell's parents had found a solution to that kind of dilemma: not caring about their kid probably helped a lot with their financial struggles. Russell wanted to help Chris just like Chris helped him, but aside from dealing, there wasn't much he could do. Chris gestured towards the door.

"Go get the medicine, I'll make us some food. Forget what I said about the zookeeper, okay?"

Russell nodded and walked to the door. He heard Chris rummaging through a cupboard as he stepped out of the house, and then the door closed behind him. It was so cold he could see little clouds of mist slipping out through his scarf where it covered his mouth, and his body tensed up in a shiver. He hunched his shoulders and started walking to the closest drugstore.

The door to Chris's house opened again thirty minutes later, and Russell entered holding a plastic bag. There was a steaming pot on the stove and fried nuggets in a plate next to it, but Chris wasn't in the kitchen. Russell took off his jacket and hung it to the coat rack, took a step towards the table, stopped, sneezed, and continued walking to put the plastic bag and its contents on the table. The door to his right opened and his friend appeared, his features brightening at the sight of the bag.

"Thanks, Russ! You were pretty quick. Just sit down, I'll be there in a sec."

He took out a plate, pushed some nuggets into it and plopped two big spoonfuls of instant mashed potatoes next to them, then grabbed the cold medicine and headed to his mom's room. Russell sat down at the table and rubbed his hands together to make them warmer. His throat ached a bit from the cold, despite Chris's scarf. Chris came back from the bedroom, picked up an empty glass on the drying rack, poured some water from the sink into it and walked back in the room. Russell continued to wait and stare at the food. He wasn't that hungry, but it smelled good. Then Chris finally came back for good, and they ate together.

Russell left the house soon after eating, as he didn't want to burden Chris with his presence. Instead of hanging out with his friend, he decided to go play video games at home. He would've liked to go see Tabasa, but it wasn't the right time for the zookeeper's shift. Besides, even if he liked being with Tabasa, he was a bit tired and didn't feel like talking to anybody anymore.

Just as he expected, there was no one home yet. Russell shivered and tried to decide if the house's temperature was worth taking off his jacket. The only time his parents allowed him to turn on the heater was when they were here, because they said it would cost too much to leave it turned on all day. Of course, whether Russell was there or not when they were away was none of their concern.

Russell ended up choosing to keep his scarf and use his jacket as a rug to sit on, since he wasn't allowed the couch. He didn't feel like having a case of freezing butt right now, he'd had enough of that when sitting in the doctor's alley. Besides, if he chose to play an action game or something, he'd stop paying attention to the cold.

The cartridge smoothly slid in the console for once, and the screen came to life. Russell's fingers automatically moved around on the buttons to choose his character, more out of habit than of motivation. He wasn't focusing on the game, something kept calling his attention back to the closed shop and its dark interior. He hadn't seen Kantera die. Some part of him didn't believe that the doctor was dead. Gone, maybe, but dead? Every time he tried to imagine Kantera lied out on his table, his cold hand still resting on a half-eaten manjuu, it felt too surreal to be true and he stopped trying to imagine it almost immediately. It made more sense to him that Kantera had just left the shop, left this country, and gone back to where he came from.

But Russell also knew that police didn't lie. They were adults, and adults lied, but Officer Bombers had told him that police people weren't allowed to lie or they would get punished. Russell believed the officer lady, because her blue eyes were clear and pretty when she said so, and she had the clearest and prettiest gaze Russell had ever seen in an adult. She wasn't like the other grown-ups, she didn't lie to him.

Russell suddenly straightened and hit pause. Of course, that was it. He just had to ask Yumi if it was true, and she'd tell him and he'd know for good. That way he wouldn't be so unsure anymore, and he could stop thinking about it. Russell didn't even know why it bothered him so much. When he was eight and his grandmother had died, he hadn't thought about it much and he'd even forgotten all about her, except that she was nice to him and had a lot of books. He hadn't seen her die either, but it hadn't been difficult to believe. Why was he doubting Kantera's death? Why did he he have such a strong feeling that the doctor had simply gone abroad, and why did he avoid thinking about the man's dead body despite himself?

If he wanted to see Officer Bombers, he'd have to go to the police station himself. He didn't want to meet the officer lady on a late-night encounter like he usually did, because he didn't want her to bring him back here like she usually did. Last time had been the worst, after he'd spent the evening with Kantera and forgotten to watch the time: the way his dad had looked at her had been the weirdest yet. Russell had felt disgusted more than usual, maybe because for the first time since Officer Bombers had started to bring him back home, the officer lady had finally noticed something was askew. Russell didn't know how or why she noticed, but he knew she did in the way she turned her gaze away from his dad to look Russell in the eye. In her lucid blue stare, the boy had read a change, though he was unable to tell what kind, and it had made him realize one thing: he couldn't allow Officer Bombers to come here anymore. He was done with late-night encounters, even if it meant not seeing the pretty officer lady at all. He didn't want her to be involved with him and his dad any further, because the way she'd stared at Russell had given him a wrong kind of feeling, like something bad would happen if she came here again.

Russell had given up on seeing the officer lady again, but she was the only police officer who he knew would tell him the truth for sure. She was the only one who could really tell him about Kantera.

The boy turned off the game and got to his feet, gathering his jacket in his arms and putting the console away. He looked at the clock in the kitchen and saw that his parents would be home in about two hours. That left him just enough time to make the trip and come back before them so that he wouldn't have to face his dad upon coming home. Russell slipped on his jacket, pulled the zipper all the way up and braced himself before stepping out in the cold weather once more.

Chapter Text

It took him about twenty more minutes to reach the station than when he made the trip in Officer Bomber's car, and when he pushed the wide door open, he felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen with the building's warmth. He stepped inside and the door slowly closed by itself, making a loud clicking sound, and the only person sitting in the entryway's seats glanced at Russell. It was a man with a weird banana-like hairstyle and a sour face, sitting kind of slumped with his hands in his pockets, and he quickly went back to frowning at the person behind the reception desk. The boy walked up to it and stopped a foot away so that the person behind it could still see him entirely.

The man wearing a police hat looked at him and said : "Hello. Can I help you?"

He looked young. It was a police officer Russell hadn't seen before. Usually the one at the reception desk was an older woman when Yumi brought him in at night. Russell asked if Officer Bombers was here. The man lifted an eyebrow.

"Well it depends, why do you need Officer Bombers? Oh, are you her little brother or something?"

Russell said he just needed to talk to her. The officer seemed to hesitate a bit, and he glanced over at the sullen man with the banana hair, then back at the boy.

"What's your name, kid?" asked the officer. "I'll go ask around, see if she's there." Russell told him and the officer rose from his seat, nodding. "Okay, stay there. I'll be back in a minute."

Russell waited in the practically deserted room, and behind him the man with the banana hair shifted and grumbled to himself. They didn't talk. They were both waiting. The young officer reappeared a bit more than a minute later, a familiar blonde woman in his wake. When she saw Russell standing there, she exclaimed with a smile:

"Oh, it's really you! I thought Edward over here was havin' hallucinations, we don't see much of you when it's still daytime out. So what's bringin' the lil' Seager along? Ed told me ya wanted a talk with me." She placed her hand next to her mouth as if she didn't want the younger officer to hear and said: "Yer not in trouble, are ya?"

Russell shook his head and looked up at her. Officer Bomber's hair fell over her shoulders in shiny blonde waves, and her beautiful blue eyes watched him with kind interest. Again, he felt the certainty that she was the only one he could ask.

Yumi stared at the boy and noticed his jacket was torn. Up until the last time she'd escorted him back home, she'd always suspected the bruises he had were because of his parents. Oh, she'd noticed Mr. Seager's alcohol-laced breath and the questionable state of his clothes, the dingy house, the ladies' underwear lying about, Mrs. Seager never being the one to open the door. However, there was no proof for anything she suspected, and while she was a cop, she couldn't just bust in there yelling "for justice!". Russell never said anything about it, Mr. Seager acted as much of a gentleman as he could in his drunken state, and the mother was nowhere to be seen. But last time, Mr. Seager had acted more insistent than usual about inviting her in - probably had one too many drinks, even for him - and as he attempted to wave her inside, she'd seen the knuckles of his left hand. He usually had that hand in his pocket whenever she came there, so she hadn't noticed before, but that day they were definitely marked with violence.

She'd looked over at Russell in a useless attempt to find the truth in the boy's eyes, but they were as expressionless as ever. It had made her feel distinctly uncomfortable and she'd decided right then that she'd do something about this. She didn't know what, how or when, but she couldn't simply allow potential child abuse to happen right under her nose without attempting anything. She was a cop, for crying out loud! She'd refused Mr. Seager's invitation as she always did, bid both Russell and his father good night, and climbed in her car to drive back to the station. During the ride, she'd tried to come up with various scenarios and ways to go through with this and had finally chosen her course of action: that next time she brought back Russell, she'd accept Mr. Seager's invitation and make her own little investigation of the place. If anything suspicious came up, she'd call Child Protective Services and see if they'd agree to pick up on her trail.

The only problem was that she hadn't caught Russell walking around at night for quite a while now.

Russell told her he hadn't come here to cause any trouble.

"Nah, dont'cha worry!" she said. "I wasn't really thinkin' that, I know yer a nice kid, Russell."

He simply watched her and she waited for him to tell her what he'd come here to tell in the first place. It didn't take a lot of waiting. He'd come here to ask about a man named Kantera. Yumi's mind instantly connected the name with the case: the japanese herbalist they'd found dead three days ago due to poison in his food. Apparently his clients knew him under the name Kantera, but the japanese ID they'd found in his belongings testified that he really was called Ryuuzen. The woman wondered how Russell knew about it and why he was here.

"Yeah, I see who yer talkin' about. Someone ya knew?"

Russell nodded slowly. Then he explained why he'd asked to talk with her, and asked if the police had really found him dead. Yumi felt uneasy. The blonde kid in front of her was asking this for a reason, and the Russell she knew usually didn't care about anything. So why was he asking about this in particular?

"Russell, why're you askin' me this?"

The boy looked down and shrugged. He didn't think the doctor was dead. It was slim, but Yumi recognized denial in his voice.

"Russell... Were you two friends?"

Russell didn't answer.

Yumi swallowed. The boy obviously had hopes that Ryuuzen wasn't dead, simply gone, and he could've asked any officer here. The fact that he'd asked for her specifically made it quite clear that this was very important to him, and that he relied on her for the truth. She couldn't lie. She had to tell him.

She wasn't feeling great about this, but she asked: "You wanna know the truth?"

Russell didn't look at her, but he nodded. It was almost imperceptible.

So Yumi told him the truth. She tried to say it as gently as she could, because although Russell didn't show many emotions, she knew she couldn't afford to do this off-handedly.

"I'm sorry, Russell, but... Kantera is gone now. He did die."

The fourteen year old boy finally looked up at her. She had no idea what was in his eyes, but she knew that right there, in that young blue gaze, she was seeing more than Russell had ever shown in a long time. And it almost crushed her heart to see it.

"You all right?" she asked, reaching for his shoulder.

Russell jerked away from her and tore his gaze away from her face. For a moment, there was only silence, and they both just stood there, the blonde officer concernedly watching the boy, the fourteen-year old blankly staring at the ground. Yumi felt the gaze of her colleague on them, but the young policeman didn't say anything either.

Her hand remained in the air, and she softly ventured: "...Russell?"

The boy glanced at her. Then he turned around and ran out of the building.

"Hey!" called Edward from behind his desk.

"Russell!" she cried, and she took a step forward to follow him, but he was already gone.

The room fell silent, and the young police officer looked at her. "Who was that kid?"

Yumi shook her head sadly and started walking back to her office. "Just... a lonely kid. Ya haven't worked night shifts yet, but he's a regular."

"He's a bit weird, isn't he?"

She shot him a look. "Ya think?"

Russell didn't want to think about Kantera. Why was this affecting him so much? He didn't care! A few months ago, he would've been the one to kill the doctor without a thought, and it wouldn't have bothered him at all. So why was he feeling this horrible, gripping feeling that made him feel dirty and powerless? Why couldn't he stop it? Was it Tabasa's fault too? How? How did Tabasa do it? Why was he making Russell feel all these terrible things? It was so displeasing, and Russell could do nothing about it. The boy ran back home, and all the way, he could feel the dark, oozing feeling clogging his chest, and he hated it. He hated it, and he wanted to wash it off. He would've done anything to escape it. It scared him.

Last time he'd been scared, Tabasa had helped make it go away. But it was too late to go to the zoo now, and besides, what made Russell so sure Tabasa could help for this too? Maybe it would get worse. Tabasa had a knack for making Russell's emotions get out of control, but at least when he was there, he could help get them back to normal, or as normal as they could be. Without the zookeeper, Russell was completely at loss as to what had to be done.

His lungs were on fire by the time he reached his home, but he didn't pay attention. He was too lost in his feelings to notice. So lost, in fact, that he didn't see one of the windows of his house was lit up and by the time he understood someone was there, he'd already burst through the door. His feet halted and his first thought was that his dad was home early. The second one, when he saw the look on his dad's face, was that he was in trouble.

"Why the fuck are you making so much noise in my house?" barked the man, banging his beer on the table. "Close the fuck'n door!"

Russell did as told and turned back to his father, who ordered him closer with a significant jerk of his beer.

"Come here."

Russell silently walked up to him and just stood there with his shoulder heaving up and down, still catching his breath from all the running. The first slap landed like lightning, fast and burning. The man's blows were surprisingly quick for a drunk.

"What the fuck did I tell you about running in the house?" yelled his father.

In another time, Russell would've said he was sorry, hoping to quell the man's anger. But he'd long learnt his lesson. It only made his father angrier. Whatever Russell chose to do, he always became angrier. The man slapped him again and Russell stumbled a bit. He could never quite prepare himself for the force of the blow, because it somehow always ended up taking him by surprise.

"You look me in the eyes when I'm talking!"

Russell executed the order.

His father squinted his bloodshot eyes at Russell and slurred: "Where'd you get that scarf?"

He'd had Chris' scarf for five days and his father was just now noticing its existence. It would've been better if he hadn't, but it would've happened eventually. The man cuffed him over the head, hard. Russell felt tears spring up automatically from the pain.

"Answer when I ask you a question, you little shit!"

Russell told him he'd found it on the ground.

"What we give you isn't enough? Huh? Jacket not warm enough for you, sir?" retorted his father mockingly, before ordering: "Hand it over."

Russell didn't move.

His father narrowed his eyes. "Are you deaf? Give. It."

Still Russell didn't move. His father threw his bottle on the ground and stood up to his full height. Compared to someone like Tabasa, his full height wasn't that impressive, but to Russell he was towering over him like giant. A very angry, drunk, and harmful giant. He grabbed Russell's scarf and sharply pulled on it, jerking his son forward.

"Give me the fucking scarf!" he bellowed.

Russell felt the fabric tighten around his throat. He said no. He hadn't said no in a long time. His father's face became red with rage. Next thing Russell knew, he was lying on the floor with a throbbing pain in the side of his face and no more scarf around his neck. His father was standing over him, breathing heavily. Russell curled up for any more oncoming blows, but the man just stood there with the scarf held tight in his shaking hand. His voice was quaking with anger.

"Don't you dare say no to me again or I'll kill you. Now get out of my sight."

Then he lumbered back to the couch and picked up his bottle of beer again. Russell got back to his feet and headed for the bathroom, cradling his throbbing face with his hand. He didn't know why he hadn't given his father the scarf. The man would've kept it for a while and then dropped it on the floor once he was sure he'd made his point, without giving Russell any more trouble if the boy decided to wear it again. But Russell had resisted. What puzzled him most was that his father hadn't hit him more for what he'd done. Russell counted himself lucky.

The boy looked in the mirror, his reflection confirming that he would have a black eye very soon. His lower lip had split from one of the slaps, in the spot that hadn't healed from last time. He leaned away from the mirror. He wished he hadn't said no. Now he had no idea when he'd get his scarf back. Suddenly he heard his father's heavy footsteps approaching and the door flew open. His father appeared in the doorway and yelled.

"What're you still doing here? I said GET OUT!"

Russell didn't have the time to react. The man grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him out of the bathroom, half-carrying, half-dragging him across the house, opened the door and threw him out. Russell tripped and fell on all fours, scraping his hands and knees, and when he looked back his father had already slammed the door. Cold swept over the boy and he shivered, his teeth started chattering. It was a lot less easy to face this weather now, without the scarf. It was fortunate for him that he hadn't taken off his jacket in the house. Russell picked himself up and took a few steps, then looked around. He didn't know what to do. He didn't think he'd get kicked out of the house for what he'd done, not for the night. Maybe his father was finally tired of beating him and wanted him gone for good. And his mother... Well, she wouldn't notice. And Dad wouldn't tell her what had happened anyway.

Russell felt the shivers intensify, and he wondered if he could go sleep at Chris' house. It was the only place he could sleep if he wanted a roof over his head, but... He wished he didn't have to disturb Chris and his mom again, showing up unannounced on their doorstep to hog their place when she was sick and Chris was tired. But he didn't really have a choice now. Russell briefly thought of Tabasa, and for that short moment he felt something tug at his heart. He squashed the thought and started walking in the cold and dimming gray daylight. He had to hurry. He didn't want to fall sick.

He trudged on and on in the streets and tried to ignore the shapes sitting in the growing shadows that he crossed every now and then. Some of them were laughing softly to themselves, others were still. A few asked him for money, those who were conscious enough.

His fingers were so numb that they hurt, and his throat ached. He wished for the tenth time he'd somehow managed to keep the scarf. The evening's temperature itself wasn't as cold as in winter, but the gusts of wind that whistled between the buildings were freezing.

By the time Russell reached his friend's house, he felt like he'd become an ice cube. He hadn't realized just how much the scarf protected him against the cold. Or maybe he'd just become used to the warmth it provided. He didn't feel anything in his knuckles when they rapped on the door. Nothing moved inside, so Russell knocked again. He couldn't ring the doorbell, it was broken. Then a light turned on inside, and he saw a shape move through the house. Judging by the height, it could only be Chris. The door opened and Russell blinked when he felt the warm air inside brush against his face. Chris looked tired as ever, but that didn't prevent a surprised look to appear on his face.

"Russell? What-" Then he squinted his eyes at him and said: "Woah. You look like a train wreck."

Russell simply asked if he could stay for the night. Chris sighed and stepped aside to let his friend pass through.

"Yeah, get in. Your parents again, huh."

Russell crossed the treshold and Chris closed the door behind him. The blonde just stood there, wrapping his arms around his chest and shivering.

Chris held out his hand. "Wanna take your jacket off?"

Russell shook his head silently. He was too cold.

Chris frowned. "Where's your scarf? You're supposed to put it on when it's cold out, y'know."

Russell didn't answer. Chris didn't insist and he put his hand on his friend's shoulder to guide him to one of the chairs. Russell sat down, but he kept the same hunched position.

"Are you that cold?" asked Chris, reaching out to feel his friend's skin. It was freezing, and he almost shivered from the touch. "Did you stay out long?"

Russell answered: just for the trip here. Chris retrieved his hand.

"I'll just make you some hot chocolate or somethin', cause you look like you're about to freeze to death."

Russell didn't answer so Chris went to get the milk. He knew that it wasn't normal for Russell to still be so tense and shivering now that he was in a warm household, and he suspected it was because his friend was so thin. Russell got cold really fast, and remained that way longer than Chris. He just wasn't healthy enough. It didn't take a doctor's degree to see that.

Behind him, Russell said he wouldn't stay here too long. Chris waved his hand before reaching for the chocolate powder.

"It's fine, don't worry. It's not like you're disturbing us or anythin'. Mom won't even know you were here."

Russell fell silent again. Chris finished fiddling with the mug and put it inside the microwave, and waited. He looked at his friend every now and then, and it looked like Russell was finally starting to warm up a little. His face was just awful to look at, though. His eye was swelling and he even had some blood on his lower lip. Chris wished he could do something more than just give him hot chocolate. His mom had a first-aid kit, but she didn't allow him to use it for anything other than a real emergency, like a bad cut or a broken something. Medical supplies cost good money.

"I'm sorry I can't give you anything for your face," apologized Chris. "You can go wash it if you want."

Russell shrugged. It was fine.

The microwave reached the last second and Chris stopped it before it dinged, took out the mug and reset the timer. Then he walked over to the table and handed it to his friend. Russell took it, his cold fingers brushing against Chris', and they felt like ice. Russ didn't start drinking it right away. He set the hot chocolate in his lap and tightened his hold around it. Chris slid in the seat next to him.

"So what happened?"

Russell looked at him for a moment, and then his eyes reverted back to the mug. His father had gotten mad at him again. Chris crossed his arms on the table.

"But why were you outside?"

The blonde didn't move. His weary eyes were still trained on his hands.

"Did he make you leave?"

Russ nodded in a slight dip of the head.

"Is that why you didn't have my scarf?"

His friend still wasn't looking him in the eye, but he answered in a very quiet voice that his dad had taken the scarf. Then he apologized. Chris' anger at Russell's dad turned into confusion.

"What? Why are you sayin' sorry?"

Russ fell silent again, and Chris said: "I don't get why you you're apologizin'. You don't need to.
Just drink your chocolate and I'll give you clothes for the night so you can change.
We can play some games after if you want."

Russell hunched over even more and it looked like he was closing up.

Chris watched him for a while, but when his friend didn't move, he asked: "Russ, what's wrong man? You've been actin' weird all day."

Russell didn't answer.

"I know somethin's up. You know you can say it, whatever it is."

Russell kept staring into his mug. It was kind of beginning to feel like he wasn't really there.

Chris put his hand on the blonde's shoulder and said: "Russ?"

His friend's eyes moved slowly and Russell looked at him. Chris stared back. Then Russ shook his head and quietly said that it was nothing. That he was just tired.

"You sure?" asked Chris.

Russ nodded. Then he brought the mug up to his lips and started sipping his hot chocolate.

They didn't talk much after that. Chris understood that his friend just wanted to be quiet, but he knew something had happened before Russell's dad had done this. Russ had already felt kind of off at noon. Well, he always was a bit weird, but today he was acting... just a tiny bit different. Chris didn't know why.

Russ went to the bathroom to wash up while Chris cleaned the mug, and then they went to Chris' bedroom. It looked like Russell was pretty tired, and Chris himself felt pooped, so they didn't do anything else that evening in the end. They simply climbed into Chris' bed and slept.

Russ was already gone by the time Chris woke up the next morning, but he'd left a thank you note on his pillow using a sticky note and a pen from the kitchen. Chris squinted at the pink paper to read what was written, and then he plopped back into the bed. Sometimes Russ did this when he didn't want to bother Chris' mom, but Chris wished they could've at least eaten some breakfast together before he left. Just to see if Russ was feeling any better than yesterday.

Chapter Text

"It hurt, you know. The poison was painful."

The doctor sat behind the red table with a cold cup of tea at his side.

"I wish you'd simply killed me with that knife. You know how easy it would've been for me to die then. Isn't that right, Russell?"

His eyes were dark red.

His kimono was gray like the stormy clouds in the sky.

Be cursed.

"Why did you do it, Russell?"

His red irises were growing larger.

Two black higanbana flowers were blooming at the center of his pupils.

"Why did you let me poison myself?"

Be cursed.

The higanbana petals sprouted from his face.

The doctor smiled kindly.

Thick, black blood creeped down his cheeks.

"Will you come play with the fish?"

"Let us drink tea together."

"Aren't you happy?"

Be cursed.

The petals spread and spread, curving upwards and sliding over their heads.

The doctor had no eyes.

"Ah... 'Tis a dark and lonely place."

Be cursed.

His voice echoed in the empty obscurity.

The raw smell of bloody meat surrounded them.

"Aren't you happy?"

Be cursed.

Russell suddenly woke up from the nightmare with a small jerk of his body. He blinked twice, and rolled on his flank. The bedsheets covering Chris' shape were gently falling and rising beside him. The room was silent. Russell turned back to the window. The sun had barely started to rise, but he didn't want to go back to sleep. He decided to take advantage of the early time to slip out of Chris' house unnoticed.

Russell discreetly got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom. In the house's main room, where the kitchen and living room were joined, he changed out of Chris' clothes to put on the ones from the day before, then went to get a post-it and a pen. He wrote a quick note on it and silently went back in Chris' room to put the paper on his now empty pillow, next to the clothes which he folded in a flat little stack on the bed.

Then he stepped out of the house. It was as cold as the day before, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. His face hurt from last night, so he headed straight for the hospital.

The back door where he usually waited for Mireille wasn't unlocked, so he couldn't step inside to warm up a little. Instead, he settled for huddling against the wall, holding his knees close to his chest, and waiting. He was shivering and the cold made his head hurt, but he was also feeling sleepy again. He soon ended up staring at the ground mindlessly, and his eyes gradually closed.

He woke up to the sound of a window opening, and heard a small squeak of surprise coming from above. He blinked drowsily, his feet and fingers numb from the cold, and looked up. Mireille was staring at him with evident surprise in her big green eyes.

"Ah... R-Russell... G... Good morning... Y-You scared me, sitting in the corner like that... W-What are you doing outside?"

Russell slowly got to his feet and showed her the side of his face. The young nurse frowned disapprovingly when she saw the bruise.

"O-Oh, Russell, you got hurt again... Though, I suppose it has been a long time since I've, um, seen you. Y-You should come inside quickly before you catch a cold."

She disappeared from the window and a few seconds later, the door opened. Russell stepped inside, shivering from the nice change of temperature. His body ached from sitting outside so long.

The nurse's hands were trembling slightly as she handed him a cold compress. She seemed tired, and pale, and her lips were white. She gave him a pitiful smile.

"H-Here you go. I-I'm sure you'll be all better in a few."

Russell took the compress from her hands and applied it to the bruise on the side of his face. It was where it hurt the most. He stared at the nurse, who noticed his gaze.

"U-Um, Russell... W-What is it? ... Do I have something on my face...?"

He asked her if she was tired, because she looked a bit sick. Her eyes widened a little in surprise. She'd expected him to nod or shake his head silently, because Russell usually wasn't one to ask her anything when they met. He'd never shown any real interest in her, never initiated a conversation. The way things usually went, she talked and he listened, and that was it. This was quite the unexpected turn of events. Mireille brought her hands together in her lap and started wringing them.

"Oh, s-sorry... Err... Do I really seem out of sorts?"

Russell pointed out that she didn't have her name tag. She looked down and saw he was right.

"Ah! I-I hadn't even noticed..."

Then her surprised expression slowly morphed into sadness, something Russell knew how to recognize easily by now. Kantera had worn the same face a few times when he gazed at the spider lilies, and Russell had realized that sadness was also what Chris felt when he made a strange expression about his mom's problems.

"...I-I guess I'm not very good at pretending..."

She looked at him, and then sat down in a nearby chair, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh.

"I-I don't know if I should be telling you this. Y-You're young, Russell. Maybe you wouldn't understand."

Russell stayed silent. After a moment, Mireille shook her head and laughed softly.

"...Nonsense. I-I'm a stupid girl for even thinking about it. It's my own problem, after all."

She got off her chair and went to the cabinet to grab some band-aids and some painkillers. She smiled at him as she handed the whole to the boy.

"Y-You can go, Russell. Just... Um... Don't forget to bring me back that compress, all right?"

Russell nodded, but the nurse had already turned her back and left.

The boy didn't understand what was going on with Mireille at all, and he didn't know what to think about her unusual behaviour. It made him feel all strange and tense inside, like something bad was going to happen. She wasn't joyful, her face was really pale, and as for the bags under her eyes... They reminded him of Kantera before...

Russell felt a cold, nasty jolt in his gut and he jumped in surprise, his fingers letting go of the compress which flopped to the ground. His hand flew down to his stomach and he stared at it, confused and apprehensive. He waited for it to happen again, but it didn't, so he slowly removed his hand.

That was... strange.

He stared at the compress on the ground and knelt down to pick it up, wondering what had just happened to him. Things were getting very strange these days. He was feeling more and more things he didn't usually feel, and doing things he usually didn't do. He still didn't understand what it was he felt between him and Tabasa, didn't understand why he was starting to recognize feelings again, he didn't know why he'd gone back to Kantera's to check or why he'd asked Officer Bombers about it, didn't know what he was going to become because of those changes, and it scared him.

Even if Tabasa was there to help him understand some things, like the fact that he'd started to care about the zookeeper, Russell was not reassured. Even if the thing between him and Tabasa felt nice, he didn't really want to change any more than he already had. He'd had enough of all these unexpected, unexplained changes, and he felt like he couldn't catch up with them if they continued to be so fast-paced.

He felt like he was losing himself.

It was something scary, something that he couldn't force to go away. He really didn't like it, but he didn't know what to do about it either. He felt confused whenever he thought about these changes, yet at the same time he didn't want to understand. He was afraid that if he understood, then there would be no going back to his old self. He knew that being a person with no emotions was a lot easier than being normal : he knew that by watching Chris struggle with his mom's problems, Tabasa be scared of the monkeys, Mireille act incomprehensibly sad, Kantera... die from his guilt.

Feelings brought trouble. All Russell wanted was to avoid trouble. It should've been easy to make a choice. He just had to stop seeing those who made all those changes happen, get rid of them like he had tried to do all those months ago. And yet...

And yet, some part of him didn't wish to. He wanted to continue seeing Tabasa. If Kantera had still been there, he would've wanted to continue talking with the doctor too. He didn't want Mireille gone. He wanted Chris to stay.

Russell wanted many things, even if he didn't understand why he wanted them. Maybe he never would've realized, had he not met Tabasa, had Tabasa not tried to get closer to him, had Tabasa not made the special, fluttering feeling exist. But Tabasa had done all that, and new feelings had started to sprout after that, and now Russell was starting to realize some things about himself he'd never given much thought to.
He'd never realized how so much of his life was founded on his interactions with other people. He'd just been walking along a straight path, not paying attention to those that surrounded him.

But now he was.
He was noticing how troubled Chris was.
He was noticing how tired Mireille was.
He was noticing how important Tabasa was.
He was noticing all these things, more and more, and had no idea what all those things amounted to; but they were there, in his mind. And he felt like maybe he was supposed to do something with those things. He just didn't know what.

Russell stared at the compress in his hands, and for some reason he remembered how heavy the knife had weighed in his hand, that evening at Kantera's. He wondered yet again why he hadn't simply killed the doctor, the way Kantera wanted it. Surely the poison must've been very painful. Surely Russell could've spared the doctor unnecessary suffering. Tabasa wouldn't have had to know anything about it, and it wouldn't have changed anything. Why hadn't he repaid his debt to the doctor? Why had he been so sure that Tabasa wouldn't want him anymore if he did, and why was he so afraid of that possibility?

The cold, slimy feeling in his guts was back, so Russell put the compress up to his face and tried to forget about the knife. He opened the door and left through the back of the hospital.

Chapter Text

It was Tuesday.

Today was the day Tabasa was going to share his crossword puzzles with Russell, like he'd promised.

The boy curled up in his bed at the thought.

Russell wasn't sure if he wanted to go to the zoo. He wanted to see Tabasa but he just didn't feel comfortable with going there right now. Ever since he'd learned about Kantera's death, Russell had been feeling a bit under the weather. Sometimes when he thought of Kantera, an odd, cold feeling would clamp down on his insides and he didn't like it. It wouldn't go away. It was a lot worse than the incomprehensible flutter he felt upon thinking of Tabasa.

It smelled a bit musty near the ground. Russell could see all the small clumps of dust gathering under his mother's bed from where he laid. His elbow still felt weird from when it had hit the table even if he didn't need the sling anymore. It would feel weird upon waking up if he'd spent the night sleeping with his arm tucked under his head or pillow. It also felt weird when he carried too much stuff with that arm. It didn't hurt, but it was inconvenient.

Russell rolled over and faced the wall.

Tabasa would know what the clamping feeling was. Tabasa would explain if Russell asked him to, but Russell didn't want to tell him about what had happened. Maybe the zookeeper would think Russell had been the one to kill Kantera; after all, Russell had tried to kill Tabasa before. Kantera had even asked Russell to end his life, and if the doctor thought he was capable of it then Tabasa would think the same. Maybe Tabasa would become afraid again, like in the beginning. Maybe he would run away. Maybe he would leave Russell behind, sever their link, and leave him alone with his wavering mind and unstable heart.

Russell pulled the cover closer to his face.

He had to keep the clamping feeling to himself. That wasn't a problem- he was used to keeping to himself. What he was afraid of was that seeing Tabasa might make the feeling worse. Tabasa made Russell's feelings sprout and spill and the boy couldn't do anything to control it. Most of those feelings did not feel bad, even if they scared him; but this feeling... This cold, dead, slimy feeling was something Russell did not want to see growing bigger and wilder. He knew he wouldn't be able to push it back in a cage. It was already roaming free inside of him.

The doctor had said that Russell didn't need to be afraid of the zookeeper. The doctor understood Russell well. And although Russell wasn't one to doubt the doctor's words, he didn't understand why the doctor had said that nor what he'd meant by it. If only Kantera had explained it. If only Russell had asked. If only they'd had a bit more time. If only Russell hadn't left right then and there.

Russell pushed the cover away and sat up. His side hurt. There was new bruise there but he didn't feel like going to see Mireille. She was acting strange these days.

The boy contemplated his choices. There were two possibilities: either seeing the zookeeper would help Russell tame the feeling, either it would rear its ugly head and bite harder.

The boy stared at the dirty bedroom floor. He wasn't usually this indecisive, but he really didn't want the feeling to get worse and he was afraid it would spoil his time with Tabasa. He didn't want the things in his life to contaminate the zookeeper. Going to see Tabasa was something he viewed as completely separate from everything else he did, and he wished to keep it that way. He felt different when he went there, like when he went to church, but in a cleaner way. His shoulders got just a bit lighter whenever he saw Tabasa's green coat and kind eyes.

Russell got to his feet and neatly pulled up his cover over the thin mattress to make his bed, then made his way to the living room. He'd forgotten to steal his mom's money before she left, and that meant he didn't have anything to pay the entrance fee. He looked around the house for the meager possibility of any money lying around, but came up unsurprisingly empty-handed. He considered not going to see Tabasa, but then he remembered that the zookeeper was worried when he didn't come. Besides, now that he couldn't go, he wanted to go even more.

Russell stopped looking for money and went to grab his coat. It didn't matter if he didn't have any. He would've preferred to get in the zoo in an honest manner, but if he couldn't, then he'd go no matter what.

When he reached the zoo, there were a people flowing in and out the gates, but not enough to call a crowd. It would be difficult to simply slip through by mingling with the people. He stopped a few feet away from the entrance to consider his options. He decided to sneak through regardless, on the off chance that he might go unseen. Russell thrust his hands further into his pockets and followed a couple inside, hiding next to the man. They stopped to pay the entrance fee and Russell continued walking through the gates without looking back.

"Hey, you!"

Russell glanced over his shoulder and saw that the man behind the counter was looking straight at him, so he stopped. The man spoke to the people paying the entrance fee, raised a hand when they answered, and then slipped out of the booth to join Russell.

"Did you pay the entrance fee, young man?" he asked.

Russell said his parents had, and that they were waiting inside.

"Is that so? What did they look like?"

Russell answered without missing a beat, knowing full well there was no way for the man to remember every one of the visitor's appearance.

The man didn't look like he quite believed what Russell was saying. "And where would they be? Why are you alone?"

Russell shrugged and said he'd forgotten his wallet to buy souvenirs, so he'd gone home to find it but he hadn't in the end. Then he said that if the man didn't believe him, they could go find his parents together and they'd show him the tickets they'd bought. The man looked back at the people staring and waiting for their turn in front of his booth, then looked around for a collegue, but fortunately for Russell, there was none.

He looked back at the boy and shook his head. "It doesn't matter, you can go. Don't forget to make them show me the tickets when you leave."

Russell said of course, and the man went back to the booth. The boy turned around and started walking again. He knew the man would probably forget about the whole conversation, and if he did recognize Russell next time, he wouldn't remember if his "parents" had shown him their tickets. The boy had done everything to ensure he wouldn't mark the man's memories, but sometimes acting the least suspicious possible wasn't enough. He'd know for sure if he got off scot-free next time he came to the zoo, if the man didn't recognize him.

It didn't take too long for Russell to find the zookeeper, who was checking something over the railing of the antelopes' pen. He walked up to the green coat from behind and said hello. Tabasa whirled around then, a frightened look on his face. Then he flattened a hand against his chest and closed his eyes. There was a small pause before he spoke.

"Look, Russ... Don't do this to me, buddy... Seriously."

He opened his eyes and looked at Russell.

"You're gonna give me a heart attack one day, sheesh... I'm happy to see you and all, but I've told you before, don't sneak up on me like that. ... Okay?"

Russell nodded and said sorry.

"It's fine, it's fine. ... Just don't do it again."

Then Tabasa frowned a bit.

"...Are you cold? Where'd your scarf go? ... Did you forget it?"

Russell noticed he was shivering, and then said he'd lost it.

"Well, that's not good... You finally had something warm on you. Maybe you should go straight to my room... What do you say? ... We wouldn't want you catching a cold."

Russell said he didn't want to be bored.

"Oh! That reminds me... I brought the crossword sheets, you want to do them there?" Tabasa flashed him a genial smile. "It won't be too boring then, what do you say?

Russell stared at him. Tabasa's smile was nice to look at, and suddenly he minded going to the room a little less.

"Ah, nobody's sick today, though... You'll be alone back there."

Russell shrugged. He didn't mind the silence. He just wished Tabasa would be there too so they could talk.

Tabasa made a thoughtful expression, and then said: "...Tell you what, I'll join you for my pause. That way you won't be alone the whole time. ... Is that okay?"

Russell said sure. Tabasa rummaged through one of his big pockets and fished out some keys. He took one out of the bunch and handed it to Russell.

"Here you go, it's the key to my room. ... You remember where it is, right?"

Russell nodded.

"The puzzles are on the desk right next to the door. ... It's uh, still a mess there, but don't mind it, okay?"

Tabasa looked a bit embarrassed.

Russell simply nodded again, and left with the key. He walked along the zoo's diverging paths, merging into the crowd of visitors, until he reached the familiar gray building where he'd tried to kill Tabasa. He looked back to make sure no one was noticing the fourteen-year-old enter a building he obviously wasn't supposed to be entering, but people didn't seem to mind him. He quickly slipped inside and closed the door behind him before papers from Tabasa's desk flew all over the place.

His eyes roamed about. The place was devoid of any animals and silent, and it seemed Tabasa had forgotten to open the blinds on the window this morning. Russell stepped up to the window and pulled on the cord, letting the light pour in. He turned around and went to the desk, which was still overflowing with the same papers he'd seen all that time ago. Tabasa hadn't cleaned up at all.

Russell wasn't surprised that the zookeeper was as untidy as ever. He even felt a little tickled inside.

The boy looked around for a chair or a stool, and a swivelly one caught his attention. It was all the way over on the other side of the room. Russell stared at it and wondered if Tabasa thought the way he managed his room was a good one. He brought the chair back to the desk and sat down, then looked for the crosswords. He didn't want to make a mess by sifting through the papers, because he was pretty sure that Tabasa hadn't put anything on his desk for a while now. The boy looked around him, and then under the desk. There was a bright blue and yellow booklet sitting next to the desk's feet, and it had landed with its cover facing up, with several white papers sprawled on the floor all around it. Russell supposed Tabasa had just thrown it on his desk in a hurry and it had slipped over the side in a waterfall of papers. Maybe the zookeeper had been out the door by then without seeing, but he probably just hadn't bothered to pick anything up.

Russell took the booklet and put it on the side, and then he started cleaning up a bit. He found a pencil under one of the sheets. It had a giraffe pattern. Russell put it on top of the booklet.
He gathered all the papers and stacked them neatly together before setting them on the desk. He considered tidying the desk, too, but maybe Tabasa wouldn't like that. Instead, Russell settled for doing the puzzles on top of the whole mess.

He opened the booklet. Most of the puzzles were finished, but there were missing words in several. It seemed Tabasa often did the puzzles with a pen, so there were a lot of scratched out letters everywhere. The inside of the zookeeper's crossword booklet was as messy as his room. Russell could only imagine what Tabasa's house looked like.

Russell took the giraffe pencil in his hand. The tip wasn't very sharp, but at least the eraser wasn't completely gone, and the pattern was a nice touch. Russell settled in the swivelly chair and started deliberating.

Chapter Text

Tabasa came back to his room by the time Russell had finished four of the puzzles. Russell heard the door open and his gaze crossed Tabasa's. The zookeeper smiled at him and stepped inside, leaving the door half-open.

"Hey there, Russell," the zookeeper said. "Doing good?"

The boy nodded.

When Tabasa spoke again, he sounded a bit hesitant.

"So uh, just so you know, I'm not going to stay for too long... I've got work to catch up."

Russell said it was fine. It wasn't really, because he wanted to talk with Tabasa, but he didn't even know how to explain what was bothering him so it didn't matter.

"So how're the crosswords going?" asked Tabasa.

Russell handed him the booklet, but Tabasa gestured for him to just toss it over, so Russell did. Tabasa deftly caught it in mid-air and flipped it open. He took a moment to read the new words and looked up, and Russell figured he looked happy. There was more to the man's expression, but he didn't know what.

"That's... pretty amazing," said Tabasa with a smile. "You found some great words...! I never could've found them on my own... for sure."

Russell didn't answer and just twirled the giraffe pencil between his two fingers. Tabasa lowered the booklet and noticed the stack on his desk.

"... Did you do some cleaning?"

Russell stared at him. Even if he had done some cleaning, the mess in Tabasa's room was hopeless. Tabasa looked surprised at that, and then he smiled.

"Did you just... Was that sass?"

Russell said maybe. Tabasa laughed and tossed the booklet back.

"I know it's a mess here, you don't have to rub it in my face..." Then he muttered to himself : "I should really tidy up the place though."

Russell agreed. Tabasa shot him a look and sighed.

"I get it, I get it. Well... I better get back to work. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Russell nodded, and watched as the zookeeper waved and left the room. The door closed on Tabasa's back and the place fell silent. The boy swivelled back at the desk and gazed pensively at the crosswords. Tabasa had praised him.

... It felt nice.

Russell stayed a bit longer, and decided it was time to leave when he couldn't find any more of the crosswords. It was a bit boring without Tabasa there, anyway. If Russell had warmer clothes, he could spend more time outside with the zookeeper. He wished he could've kept the scarf, again.
Russell closed the booklet and put it on the desk, neatly setting the pencil down next to it. He slid off the chair and walked out, remembering to close the door behind him with the key, and set out to find the zookeeper. He found him at Little Farm, and Tabasa noticed the boy's presence before he even stepped inside.

"Hey, Russell. Done with the crosswords, or do you need something?"

Russell handed him the key and said he was done.

"So you're leaving then," figured the zookeeper. "... You didn't stay very long today."

Russell told him that it was boring to be alone in that room.

"Yeah, sorry... My pause was really short. ... Not much of a pause at all."

Russell shrugged and said it was fine. Tabasa straightened and patted down his coat to remove the pieces of straw.

"So, Russell... Are we still good to go for the aquarium?"

Russell nodded.

"Did you tell your friend? ... Chris?"

Russell said he'd forgotten to tell him.

"Well, it's next week... Let's meet up on Monday, if that's okay with you two. Monday morning at, say... 10AM. Make sure he can come, all right?"

Russell said all right.

Tabasa smiled at him. "All right then... See you on Thursday."

Russell went to school the next day to see if he could find Chris. His friend was sitting at his desk with his chin in his hand, but when he saw Russell, his eyes widened.

"Dude! Over here!" He gestured wildly for the blonde to join him.

Russell made his way across the desks and Chris nearly pounced on him.

"Where've you been? I heard the teacher say you haven't been to school for days! I though somethin' had happened to you, you were actin' all weird and shit!"

Russell remembered that the last time he'd seen Chris was last week, after his father had kicked him out of the house. He hadn't thought to go see Chris again after that, and even less about school.
Russell said it was nothing, that he just hadn't felt like coming.

"No Russ, I'm serious, like what the hell man?" exclaimed his friend. He looked somewhat cross. "Your face was all messed up and you didn't stay in the morning, and then I didn't hear from you in like, three days, and then I learn you haven't been to school either- Where were you, even? Did you stay home or what?"

Russell said he hadn't been feeling well.

"Man, Russ, I told you you could come over if you needed... Why the hell would you stay with your parents?"

Russell didn't want to bother Chris' mom. She was sick. It would be inconvenient for her to have to watch over two people. Chris shook his head.

"No, man, Mom's a lot better now. She's getting over it, she's tough you know."

Then he grabbed Russell by the shoulder.

"But serious, did you get hurt again or somethin'? Did you have to go to the hospital? Cause if that's the case you gotta tell me, Russ, I mean what if something-"

At that point Chris seemed to remember that they were in the middle of their classmates, so he pulled Russell closer and lowered his voice.

"Look, if somethin' bad happened to you and your parents didn't do anythin' to help you, you know you could count on me right?"

Russell stared at Chris without answering. He didn't understand what Chris was getting at.

"I mean, we both know your parents are douchebags, okay, it's no secret to me. An' maybe they don't care if you get hurt, but honestly, if you got hurt or sick real bad I'd be worried man. I mean I know somethin's up with you, Russ, even if you won't tell me. But you gotta understand, we're friends, right, and cause I'm your friend I wanna know when you're in trouble. You get that?"

Russell answered : kind of.

Chris sighed. "Okay well, guess that's good enough. Jus' don't go disappearing like that after I see you so messed up, got it? I thought you ran away or some shit."

Russell nodded.

Chris let go of his shoulder and leaned against his desk. "So are you sick or somethin'?"

Russell didn't think so. He'd just been feeling weird for a while.

Chris observed him with an expression that lacked conviction. "Really? Cause you look pretty tired to me."

Russell said he wasn't lying.

"I'm not sayin' you're lyin', Russ, just that you look like you could probably use some rest. Pretty sure you couldn't sleep well at your parents', right?"

Russell shrugged.

"Well if you need a good night's sleep, just come on over. I'm sure Mom won't mind now that she's feeling better."

It was Russell's turn to be unconvinced. He knew Chris' Mom didn't need Russell there, she already had enough on her plate as it was. She didn't disapprove his presence during the night, but she certainly didn't approve it either. It looked more like she had gotten used to the idea rather than she had accepted it. He knew he cost her money whenever he ate or slept there. Then Russell remembered he was supposed to talk about the aquarium to Chris, and asked if Chris' mom would be okay with paying the aquarium's entrance fee. Chris seemed surprised by the sudden change of topic.

"The aquarium? You want us to go there?"

Russell said it was the zookeeper's idea. Chris squinted at him.

"So... You wan' us to go with that guy to the aquarium? He's your friend, not mine. Why would I go with you two?"

Russell said it could be nice.

"I don't know 'im," stated Chris. "It would jus' be awkward."

Russell said the zookeeper had been the one to propose for Chris to come along.

"What- Why?" exclaimed Chris. "He doesn't even know me!"

Russell shrugged. He didn't really understand himself, but it sounded like a good idea for the three of them to go together. Tabasa sounded like he wanted to meet Chris, even if Russell was a bit reluctant at the idea of Tabasa and Chris coming in contact with each other. As long as Chris didn't say anything about the bad things in Russell's life, it would be okay. Tabasa wouldn't be contaminated. Russell told his friend that he couldn't say anything about them.

"What?" said Chris. "So you want me to come, but I can't say anythin'? What's the point then?"

Russell shook his head. It was fine if Chris talked with Tabasa, but he couldn't say anything about his parents or what they did when they didn't go to school. He didn't want Tabasa to know. Chris had a strange expression, and he crossed his arms.

"So that guy's your friend but he doesn't know anything about you? How does that work?"

Russell said they talked about a lot of other things. Like animals, and crosswords. Sometimes they didn't talk and it didn't matter.

"Man, you guys are weird..."

Chris thought to himself and then he shrugged.

"Heck, why not. I haven't gone to the aquarium since I was six anyway. I think Mom'll actually be glad I do somethin' kind of normal for once, don't worry 'bout the money."

Russell said okay, and told him they were supposed to meet up in front of the zoo on Monday morning.

"Okay, sounds good to me," said Chris.

Chapter Text

For once, Russell's dad wasn't the one to hurt him this time. Russell didn't even see it coming. One moment he was talking with Chris on the side of the school's basketball yard, the next he was thrown to the ground and his knees burned. Russell looked up and recognized that the one who had pushed him was one of Gardenia's friends. It was the girl who didn't like them.

"What the hell?!" yelled Chris. "What's your problem?"

"It's not my fault, you guys were in my way!"

"Yeah? Well how 'bout you apologize, you bitch?"

"Oh my god! Did you just call me a bitch?!"

Gardenia appeared next to her friend. "Calm down, Mel! You're the one who pushed him, so you should say sorry."

"But I didn't do it on purpose!"

"What?!" exclaimed Chris, compeletely irate. "Are you fucking kiddin' me?! You obviously did!"

Russell picked himself up and tried to pull Chris away, telling him it was alright.

"No, it's not alright!" retorted Chris. He didn't budge and kept glaring at the girl. "I saw her push you on purpose!"

"I did not!" repeated the girl. She was getting red in the face.

Gardenia looked at Russell and suddenly asked : "Are you okay, Russell? Your knees look really bad."

Russell peered down at his knees and saw they were all scraped up, and so did Chris. The blonde shrugged and said it was nothing, but Chris turned on the girl again.

"Look what you did!"

Suddenly they heard a man's voice next to them. "Is everything alright?"

The four of them turned in unison and saw that a teacher was standing there, his hands on his hips. He had a stern expression on his face.

"What's going on here?"

Russell didn't answer. Chris was glaring at the teacher, already knowing he would get into trouble for something he hadn't done. There was a small moment of silence during which no one said anything. Then Gardenia spoke up.

"Melody ran into Russell, but-"

"It was an accident!" said her friend. "And Chris called me a bitch!"

"He did what?" said the teacher.

"Hold on!" Chris exclaimed defensively. "That ain't the problem, you definitely pushed him on purpose!"

The teacher crossed his arms on his chest. "Chris, do you want to take another trip to the principal's office?"

"What?!" shouted Chris. "She's the one who pushed Russell!"

The teacher looked at Russell and said: "Bring him to the nurse's office first, and then I want both of you to go and explain what happened to the principal."

"What? Me too?" said Melody.

"You too," said the teacher. "Unless Gardenia can tell me that it really wasn't on purpose."

They all looked at the white-haired girl. She glanced at her friend, then looked at the ground.

"I, um... I'm not sure."

"Gardenia!" exclaimed Melody, her voice shrill with indignation.

"Look, I don't know! I was trying to catch Nora, not you! I only saw Russell fall!" retorted Gardenia.

"Well then. Both of you better be at the principal's in ten minutes," stated the teacher.

Melody glared at them and stomped off with a huff, and the teacher left the three children alone.

"Shit, I knew he was gonna rag on me. Your friend is a bitch," Chris muttered with hunched shoulders.

Gardenia frowned at him. "Hey, watch your mouth!"

Russell watched them silently. His knees hurt, but he didn't want to go see the school nurse. He didn't like her at all, because she didn't like him. He could see it in the way she handled him. She didn't really care if he got hurt, and she touched him the least amount possible. When he'd gone there, he'd felt like he had some kind of contagious disease or something. It could've been because his clothes smelled bad, or because she didn't like that he didn't talk or smile. He didn't really care to know why : all he knew was that if he ever was going to see a nurse, it certainly wasn't that one. Russell resigned himself to go see Mireille. No matter how weird, she was still a better nurse than the school's, and he didn't want to stay with bloody knees all day. He told Chris he was going to go.

"To the nurse's?" asked his friend.

Russell shook his head.

"You're leaving?" asked Gardenia.

Russell turned to her and considered her inquisitive blue eyes. He didn't like that she was asking him things, as if she cared. He turned around without answering and left Chris and Gardenia to themselves.

"Why doesn't he answer, like, ever?" he heard Gardenia ask Chris.

"Well maybe he doesn't wanna," answered his friend. "Anyway, I gotta go to the shitty principal's now. Fuckin' great. Don' forget to thank your friend for me."

"Hey, it's not my fault you called her a bitch and got in trouble for it!"

Russell didn't hear the rest. He was already out of the schoolyard by then.

When he reached the building, Russell approached the hospital with an apprehensive feeling in his gut. He hoped Mireille had gone back to normal, that her patient had said something to make her better, so that he wouldn't have to face her pale lips and tired eyes. He hoped she had stopped looking so much like Kantera from back then. Russell slipped around the back of the hospital and waited next to the door. There was a black cat waiting there as well. It had green eyes and was staring impassibly at the boy. Russell knew Mireille liked to sit outside and play with that cat when she took her pauses and when the weather was warm enough. She didn't smoke during her pauses, not like other nurses. Now the weather was so cold that Mireille probably never opened that door unless it was to let Russell inside. She stayed inside for her pauses. The boy wondered whether the cat felt lonely. It didn't look lonely. It didn't have any kind of expression.

When Mireille finally stepped in the room, Russell got up and knocked on the window. He was really cold, and wanted to come inside to warm up a little, so he didn't really take the time to study her. The nurse looked surprised by the sound, but when she turned to look outside and saw him, her expression shifted. She unlocked the door, gestured him to come in and turned back around to leave the room immediately. Russell wondered what had gotten into her, but he went inside just as she'd told him to and sat down to wait for her to come back.

Mireille reappeared only minutes later, carrying a bag with her. She walked up to him, and without saying a word, set her bag on the table next to them. Russell saw that Mireille had not gotten any better. Her face was pale as ever, and there was no warm light in her green eyes. Even her salmon coloured hair seemed dulled and dreary. It used to be neatly tucked behind her ears, and now it simply hung loose around her face. Mireille spun around and her intense gaze pinned Russell where he stood.

"I-I thought about last time, when I was going to tell you," she stated.

Russell waited for her to continue.

"...I, um, can't talk about it to anyone else here, and, um, I really don't think it would be a good idea to tell anyone at all. Though... Y-You aren't mean, Russell. I-I think I can tell you, after all."

Russell stared at her. He'd come here to get the cuts on his knees fixed, and now she was talking about what was wrong with her. The boy asked if she had any desinfectant. Her eyes widened.

"O-Oh! I'm s-sorry! I-I didn't even think...!"

She hastily walked over to a drawer and pulled out a bottle and some compresses.

"J-Just sit down, I'll fix you up. And I'll... er..rr..."

She seemed to hesitate as she glanced at the bag on the table, her fidgety fingers unwrapping the compresses. Then her eyes hardened with decision and she finished: "I-I'll talk about my, um, problem."

Russell didn't answer, uneasy silence lingering between them. The nurse started cleaning the cut.

"R-Russell, do you know what love feels like?"

Russell shook his head slowly, tensely, but Mireille wasn't looking at him. She didn't seem to care about his answer.

"I-I love someone, but... that person doesn't love me."

Russell understood right away she was talking about her patient. This time, her cheeks weren't getting pink.

"...H-He can't love me. Because something is... blocking the way."

Mireille's eyes were strange, and she was rubbing the desinfectant in Russell's cuts with unusual strength. It stung a lot more than usual. Russell didn't speak a word, didn't move. He didn't dare. This felt wrong.

"N-No matter what I do, he won't love me."

She looked up at Russell, and he saw that her green eyes were burning.

"I-It's not fair, right?" she exclaimed, her voice suddenly loud. "Why can't I have his love? W-What makes me unworthy?"

Russell felt agitated inside. It was like Mireille was a different person, like there was a beast lurking under the depths of her bright green eyes and it was about to jump out and bite. The boy tried to retrieve his knee from the nurse's grip, but she was holding it tightly. Too tightly.

"W-Why can't I get what I want?"

Russell didn't reply. He was too tense to speak, and he didn't know the answer to her question in the first place. Russell wanted to run from her. He wanted to run away from this place. Mireille threw the compress in the trash at Russell's side and started to apply a bandage to Russell's knee.

"N-No one understands. I-I'm the one who's there for him. I-I'm the one who's caring and, and looking after him all the time. So why, why doesn't he love me??"

Her movements were jerky and not gentle at all, and Russell didn't like it. It hurt. She looked at him, her green gaze as piercing as a hawk's.

"W-What do you think, Russell? I-It's not fair, right?"

Russell just stared at her. It was disturbing to see Mireille act so strained and be so harsh, in a way that was so different from usual. He could feel cold tingles at the back of his neck and head, like his hairs were rising. The nurse seemed to sense his unease and she didn't insist, looking down to finish what she was doing.

"I-It's alright if you don't know. After all, you... W-Well, you're just a child."

Then she stood up and smiled at Russell, and the beast in her green eyes had disappeared. It was like nothing had ever happened.

"T-There, all patched up. ...Er... You should be a bit more careful with yourself, R-Russell. W-What would you do without me?"

Russell avoided her gaze and said thanks. The bag on the table caught his attention again, and he saw a red corner peeking out the top. He quickly slid off his seat and told the nurse goodbye, before leaving as fast as possible.

Chapter Text

When he went back to the zoo on Thursday, the man selling the tickets said: "I didn't see you leave last time."

Russell stilled, his extended hand holding the change out. He'd underestimated this man's memory. The man was staring at him with cold eyes, so the boy said he'd forgotten to show the tickets upon leaving because his parents had been in a hurry to return home.

"Hm..." The man behind the counter acknowledged his answer with a small frown. "I don't know if I should believe you, so you better not do that again. I won't be as indulgent next time. I'm sure you know that people get in trouble for not paying the entry fee."

Russell wordlessly dropped the coins in the small metal drawer and the man pulled it back to him. The shiny change disappeared behind the window, and a paper ticket came out in exchange. Russell picked it up from the metal plate and pocketed it.

"Off you go," said the man.

Russell didn't need to be told twice and quickly turned to leave the booth, continuously avoiding his gaze. He didn't like the look in the man's eyes, and found himself wishing to find the zookeeper as soon as possible. It was getting even colder outside, Christmas was coming soon. There were some decorations scattered about the zoo like cardboard cutouts of Santa Claus, candy canes and bells hanging around here and there. Russell had noticed that the ticket booth was also decorated according to Christmas colors, all red and white, and there was a reindeer with a red nose sitting on top. Russell couldn't ignore any of it, but he would've liked to. He really didn't like Christmas.

Tabasa was near the antelopes, and greeted Russell like usual when they met. The boy didn't tell him about the man at the booth, but he stuck close to the zookeeper. If Tabasa noticed how close they were walking, he didn't say anything about it. He just talked about how the cold weather made some animals lazy and unwilling to go outside, while others liked seeing visitors even more than usual because of how bored winter made them. Russell didn't speak. He felt a bit better now that Tabasa was beside him, but he couldn't get the prospect of the approaching holiday out of his head. His Christmas wasn't going to be like one of those magical and festive depictions of a holy day he saw everywhere in the streets: it was going to be a day like any other, with mushy, dirty snow on the sidewalks and beer cans lying everywhere in the house. There would be no music, no lights, no Christmas tree, and no wonderful Christmas meal. There would only be his parents sitting on the couch, sharing their bottle of wine in front of the TV commercials, and when the bottle would run out they would drink beer like usual. Normally Mom didn't like being touched by Dad, and Dad didn't try, but it was different for Christmas. When they would be drunk enough, Dad would start touching Mom, and they'd make noise until they would pass out from the alcohol. It was disgusting.

Tabasa quickly noticed that Russell's hunched shoulders were shivering, so he handed him the key to his room.

"Why don't you go warm up? I brought a different set of puzzles for you this time... I think you'll like those too."

Russell took the key, but he didn't leave right away. When he asked if Tabasa could stay longer for his pause today, the zookeeper hesitated. He looked away from Russell's face for a little bit, but Russell stayed. In the end, the man answered :

"...Sure. If you want me to."

Russell nodded. He felt satisfied by the zookeeper's answer, and finally left for Tabasa's room.

He entered the small building and saw that the desk wasn't as messy as before. There were still a lot of papers, but at least they weren't strewn about. He sat on the swivel chair and opened the new booklet, this one a pale orange. There were a lot more incomplete puzzles in this one. The boy looked around for the giraffe pencil and lifted a few papers before finding it, and started to think.

Russell heard the door open half an hour later and he looked to the side. The zookeeper stepped in and pulled his hood back, and as he did so his cowlick sprung forth. Tabasa smiled at him.

"Hey there, buddy. How's it going?"

The man was rubbing his hands together, and Russell thought maybe they were cold from the weather outside. It was warm in Tabasa's room, though. Russell shrugged and handed him the booklet so Tabasa could see the progress he'd made today. The zookeeper swiftly took the booklet from Russell's hands and scrutinized the pages. His eyebrows rose up slowly, and then he looked at the boy sitting in his chair.

"Russell, you're really good at this kind of stuff... Do you like reading?"

Russell shrugged again, and said : a little bit.

"What kind of books do you read?" asked Tabasa.

Russell usually read storybooks, and sometimes novels, but it was a bit difficult to focus on long ones.

"Haha... Yeah, it's hard to concentrate sometimes," agreed Tabasa. "Novels definitely aren't my thing... I like reading reviews and magazines better."

The zookeeper lightly tossed the crossword booklet back at Russell. The boy caught the puzzles and flipped through them once more. He'd completed three and had tried five others, but the words were too complicated for him to find them all. Tabasa leaned back against the wall and took a cereal bar out of his pocket. Russell looked up when he heard the crinkling of the wrapper, and the zookeeper noticed. He gestured towards the boy with the snack.

"You want a piece?"

Russell hesitated. It looked good, but it was Tabasa's, not his. He wasn't even that hungry. His stomach hurt too much where his dad had hit him for him to feel hungry. He almost refused, but Tabasa broke off a morsel and tossed it at him before he had the time. Russell hastily dropped the puzzles in his lap to catch it.

"Oops, sorry... Probably should've handed you that instead of throwing," said Tabasa.

Russell answered that Tabasa's definition of handing things was throwing, so it didn't make a difference.

"What? No it's not," answered Tabasa defensively. "I mean... It's not..."

He stopped to consider how he'd given back the booklet earlier, and then said defeatedly: "...Maybe it is."

Then he took a bite out of his cereal bar, and added with his mouth full: "...Are you going to sass me all the time now? Is that what's going on...?"

Russell shrugged and looked at the piece in his hand. There were chocolate chips. His stomach growled without warning.

"... Are you that hungry?" asked Tabasa.

There was that expression on his face again that Russell knew but couldn't quite put his finger on. Russell said no, and ate the piece in one bite.

"You sure? ...I have more cereal bars in my bag, if you want," insisted the zookeeper, gesturing towards the backpack laying on the ground a few feet away.

Russell didn't answer, so the zookeeper pushed himself off the wall and went to get the bag. Russell watched the man grab his backpack, and decided that he would take a cereal bar if Tabasa really wanted him to eat. The zookeeper rummaged around for a bit, then went back to Russell and gave him two cereal bars, this time without throwing them.

That was when Russell noticed that the zookeeper's hands were shaking a little. At first, Russell thought Tabasa was still cold. He looked up. Tabasa didn't look cold. And if he was cold, he would've kept his hood on. The zookeeper waved the bars in front of his face, and in doing so his fingers stopped shaking.

"Well? Are you going to take them?"

Russell didn't answer. He didn't move, either. He thought he was starting to understand what was going on. Faced with the boy's silent immobility, the zookeeper's lips twitched unvoluntarily and he cautiously repeated:

"Russell?"

The boy stared at him and remembered that Tabasa had had the same nervous twitch when Russell had come back to apologize the second time they'd met. Back when Tabasa was scared of him. Maybe Tabasa was still scared. After all, they were in this place. The monkeys weren't there, but it didn't change that this was exactly where Russell had tried to kill the zookeeper. The clamping feeling happened again, and Russell knew he couldn't stay. He hadn't wanted to scare Tabasa. The zookeeper had wanted him to come in this room for warmth, because he worried about Russell ; but if it scared him, why had he come during his pause? Maybe that was why he hadn't stayed on Tuesday. Maybe he'd been too scared to spend time here alone with Russell.

Russell still didn't answer, and he finally saw how stiff Tabasa was. The zookeeper's smile had turned strange and his blue eyes were not as clear anymore. He was staring at him like he was expecting Russell to do something bad. The zookeeper was still scared of him. After all that time talking and walking across the zoo, things hadn't changed that much between them after all.
Russell believed deep inside that he would never try to kill Tabasa again, but why would the man believe the same thing? Russell had tried once already, and it was one time too many. Tabasa was scared of him. How could the zookeeper care for someone who scared him? He must've been pretending the whole time. Why, Russell didn't care to know.

Russell slid off the chair without a word, and glanced at the zookeeper. Tabasa looked confused.

"...Russell?" he repeated.

The boy looked away and was about to bolt out of the room, but Tabasa suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him.

"Woah, buddy! Where are you going? Didn't you want..." Tabasa stopped talking when Russell turned to face him. They stared at each other silently, and then Tabasa asked: "... What's wrong...?"

Russell didn't hesitate for this. It was the truth, a fact, something that now seemed clear as day. He simply stated that Tabasa was scared of him. He hadn't understood why Tabasa didn't like it when he said hello from behind, but now he did. Now he grasped the reason for the zookeeper's reactions. He didn't mean for it to be that way, but Tabasa was frightened and that was all there was to it. He would leave. Tabasa didn't have to pretend. It was fine. He would leave.

The zookeeper seemed stunned for a moment. Then he shook his head. "... No, no, Russell! That's not... I mean..."

He straightened and sighed. "Oh, man... This is hard to explain..."

He scratched his head distractedly and Russell stared at him. It wasn't what?

Tabasa let his hand fall.

"Well, I'm... I mean, ever since then, I don't really like this place as much, you know? ... Yeah, I'm still a bit scared... but, uh..."

There was a moment of silence as the zookeeper gathered his thoughts.

"Well, it's hard to explain," he repeated. "I don't think I can really do that. But... I don't want you to leave, you know. Oh, and I'm not pretending!" he precised vehemently. "I really want you to eat these cereal bars and I really do want you to come to the zoo, all right?"

Russell didn't understand. Why was Tabasa acting like this, when he was scared? Why was he being so nice to someone he feared? It made no sense. Why were things so complicated, all the time? It made his head hurt. He didn't know what to say or do. Tabasa watched him silently, and then tried to give him the bars again.

"Look, Russ, buddy... Just take them. You're hungry, and I want you to have them. ... Don't worry about me, all right? This is just... uh, a normal reaction, I guess... I can't control it."

The zookeeper waited patiently until Russell took the snacks from his hands, then gave the boy a pat on the shoulder.

"I like it when you're here, okay? Don't think otherwise."

Russell gazed at him, still holding onto the snacks, and said it didn't make any sense.

Tabasa shrugged lightly and smiled. "It doesn't always have to. ... Stop worrying about all that, okay?"

Russell wasn't worrying. Russell didn't worry about things. Tabasa watched him silently without speaking, so Russell insisted: he didn't worry.

"Okay, okay," finally answered Tabasa in surrender. "You're not worried... I get it."

Russell said he wasn't worried one more time, for good measure, and opened one of the cereal bars.
This sweetness was something he didn't taste often. Anything was better than the cereal his mother bought him on good days, and even Chris didn't have such tasty snacks from his mom. Russell saw that the brand was one of the expensive ones they never bought. He pondered as he ate. So this was what expensive food tasted like.

"You like it?" asked Tabasa with a smile.

Russell nodded.

"Great," replied the zookeeper.

And it really was great. It was the best thing Russell had eaten in years. Russell kept munching on the cereal bar. Now that he'd started, he wasn't going to stop. It was good. It was really, really good. He quickly finished the first one and went to grab the second, but then he realized that if he ate the second one, he wouldn't have any left. He reluctantly put it back into his pocket and looked up, noticing that Tabasa was staring at him. He asked why Tabasa was staring at him.

The zookeeper dug into his pockets and handed him a third cereal bar.

"Here."

Russell accepted it without making a fuss. So maybe it was Tabasa's and not his, but Tabasa was giving them to him, so it was probably fine.

"...If I'd known you'd like these so much, I would've brought you some earlier," stated Tabasa. "I'll bring some next time as well, for both of us."

Russell said thanks and started opening the cereal bar. Tabasa didn't answer right away. It looked like he had something else to say. After a short pause, he spoke again.

"... Russell, you always try to run away. And you never tell me why you do it, when it happens..."

Russell stilled and stared at him. He didn't like where this was going.

"Don't do that, okay?"

Russell didn't understand.

"I mean... Don't try to run away."

Russell stared at him, his cereal bar half-opened in his hands. He knew what Tabasa was saying, but it didn't make sense to him why Tabasa was telling him this. Was running away so bad? Why couldn't he run? It was the one thing that helped him escape things he didn't like or understand, without having to hurt anyone. If he couldn't run, then what could he do? He didn't want to hurt anyone, or Tabasa wouldn't want him. So if he couldn't run, and if he couldn't kill, then he was stuck. Why was Tabasa telling him this? Russell said again that he didn't understand.

Tabasa sighed.

"It's just... I don't want you to feel like you have to run away when you're with me. You don't have to, all right? You really don't. If something bothers you, just tell me... Because I can't guess what's going on inside your head."

Russell tightened his hold on the cereal bar. Some things he just couldn't tell, especially to Tabasa.
He himself didn't know what made him run away like that. It just felt easier to run away. He didn't feel like trying to understand, all the time, what made him uneasy, what made him scared, what made him feel anything he wasn't used to feeling. Running was now the only way out for him.
So Russell said no.

Tabasa shot him a perplexed look. "No...?"

The boy suddenly felt like the inside of him was agitated and murky. No, he didn't want to tell Tabasa if something bothered him. Tabasa didn't need to know what was going on inside his head. Tabasa didn't need to know anything, because there was nothing to know, nothing to understand, and Russell didn't need for anyone to understand him.

Tabasa shook his head, confusion spreading on his face.

"Wait, Russell, I didn't mean upset you..."

Russell felt horribly strange. He was feeling on edge, like he was going to either explode or melt where he stood. Irritation buzzed and scratched at his skull, and nothing mattered anymore. He didn't want to stay. He didn't want to see Tabasa. He wanted to hit, and break, and tear, and run far away from everything and everyone until he was alone.
Until there was no one left to understand, or to understand him.
Until there was no one left to worry, or to worry about.
Until there was no one left to stop him from running away.

"Russ?"

The cold and slimy feeling kept growing and growing.
He head hurt, his face hurt, his stomach hurt.
His body felt stiff and cold but he was burning inside.
He was silent, but there was roaring in his head.

"... Russell, hey."

If he couldn't escape, then he was trapped with all the things that he couldn't understand and it scared him. Why did Tabasa want to trap him this way? Wasn't he allowed to avoid all of those things? Couldn't he be left alone?
Why was Tabasa still scared of him?
Was it because he'd killed Kantera so painfully?
His head was pounding.
But he'd been careful not to contaminate Tabasa, so why did Tabasa know?
Why was Tabasa scared?
Why was Tabasa still worrying about him even after what Russell had done to him?
Why couldn't Russell understand anything, why could he never make sense of what people did?
Why couldn't he simply run from everything?

"Russell!"

The boy suddenly snapped out of his trance. He remembered where he was. There was Tabasa leaning in front of him with a worried look. Russell forgot what he was thinking about. His stomach hurt, and he felt a bit woozy. He was tired. It was cold. His brain throbbed.

"Russell, are you all right?" asked Tabasa.

Russell said he didn't want to stop running away.

"...Okay," said Tabasa, nodding slowly. "Okay. ...I shouldn't have said that. Sorry, Russell. Okay? Sorry."

Russell quietly said he had to go.

"Okay, Russell."

Russell turned away and walked to the door. He felt like he was walking on a cloud. Something within him had turned. He needed to sleep. His head hurt.

"Russell..."

The zookeeper's voice stopped the boy's hand a few millimeters away from the handle. Russell didn't move.

"Next week, since we're going to the aquarium... Don't forget to bring some money for souvenirs, too, okay?"

Russell nodded, and left.

Chapter Text

As soon as Russell came home, he slipped around the living room quietly and went straight to bed. He didn't take his clothes off. He was tired and his brain was hurting from talking with Tabasa, and thinking about Tabasa, and trying to understand everything but failing. He lied down but his head was pounding and pounding, and it took him a while before he finally fell into slumber.

He felt much better in the morning. He woke up to an empty house, meaning he'd overslept and his parents were already gone for the day. Russell sat up on his thin mattress and stayed there for a while. His head didn't hurt anymore, but he felt tired. He sneezed, and it hurt his stomach. The house was cold. He decided to go back to sleep : he didn't feel like going outside or seeing anyone.

He woke up around noon and got up to eat, then played video games all afternoon. He tried not to think about anything. He didn't want to think of anyone. He was tired of it. His eyes started hurting a little after a while, and his body felt a bit sore. He sneezed once in a while, and had to blow his nose a few times. A few hours later, his face felt all puffy and blowing his nose didn't seem to help with his runny nose. When a dull ache in his brain started to appear, Russell decided that was enough games for today and turned the console off. His head felt heavy and his muscles pulled at his bones like sacks of weights, so he went back to the bedroom to lie down. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep a few minutes after.

The first time he woke up, he distantly heard his father come home and turn on the TV.

The second time was when his mother climbed into her bed. He heard her giggle from his corner of the room. There was someone else with her, heavier and bigger. Russell squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears.

His night was fitful. He kept waking up to the sound of animals grunting in the wide bed. He could make out the shape of his father staring at the moving mass from the window.

He woke up late again the next day. He felt cold under his single cover, despite his clothes. His head hurt a little less, but he felt dirty. He shivered when he sat up and the blanket slipped off his shoulders. The house was silent, so there was nobody there.

Russell got to his feet and went to the bathroom to take a shower. His limbs were heavy. He shed off his clothes and stepped into the shower, and let the burning water rinse off the dried sweat that covered his skin. He sneezed once, twice. As he washed himself with soap from the white discount bottle sitting in the shower, he tried to avoid the bruised area of his stomach. It was fading, but it still hurt. His skin felt tender and achey all over.

After his shower, he changed into clean clothes and threw the dirty ones in the laundry machine. Then he went to the kitchen to get some toast. When he opened the bread bag, the dry slices smelled stale the way industrial food had of growing old. It was unappetizing, and he wasn't very hungry anyway, so he put it back in the drawer. He turned his head to the fridge, and decided to get some fruit juice. Maybe it would help clear up the cotton that was filling his head. He opened the fridge, grabbed the carton and felt that it was lighter than it was supposed to be. The cold sent pricks in his fingertips. He closed the fridge, unscrewed the cap and finished the bottle in two swigs, then went to throw it in the trash bin that had yet to be emptied.

Russell looked at the entrance door, then at his game console. He went to turn it on, but the bright screen hurt his eyes, and he decided not to play any video games today. He was too tired to feel like going outside, so he thought he could try reading a book. The boy sneezed again and went to get some toilet paper to wipe his nose, and then decided to take the whole roll back to bed with him in case his runny nose didn't stop. Russell went to lie down and spent the day in bed. The text in the pages of his book was blurry, so he quickly gave up on reading and fell asleep. He drifted in and out of slumber and didn't get up to eat.

His father came back and watched TV all afternoon. Russell heard his gravelly chuckle and disapproving grunt a few times, accompanied by the pops of opened beer cans. His mother came home later in the evening. There was no second voice accompanying her, so Russell found himself hoping that the night would be silent.

"I got the wine," said his mother.

"Good," grunted his father.

"You want to do this now or tomorrow?"

"I don't care."

They drank the bottle of wine that evening.

Russell thought maybe it would be better to go to Chris', but he didn't have it in him to walk all the way out to the Puddle Apartments in this state. He had to settle for trying to sleep through the noise his parents were making. It was disgusting. He wished they would stop, but he knew better.

Russell woke up in the middle of the night, his clothes damp with sweat. He felt like he was burning up. He got up on wobbly legs and made his way to the kitchen to get a drink from the sink. His father was snoring on the couch. The smell of beer was even more pungent than usual and Russell felt nauseous. His head was pounding and pounding and his eyes stung. Russell felt himself swaying, so he sat down on the kitchen floor to drink his glass of water. When he was done, he lowered it in his lap. The cupboard door felt cool against his back, and so did the dirty floor. He felt himself dozing off, so he put the glass on the ground next to him to avoid breaking it if he let go. He was too tired to get up, so he fell asleep in the kitchen.

Pain and the debilitating sensation of churning in his belly woke him up in the morning. His father had kicked him in the stomach and was towering over him, smelling of alcohol and sweat.

"Get out of my way," his father growled.

Russell quickly tried to get to his feet, but he tripped and fell back on his knees.

"Move," his father growled louder.

Russell moved, but he took too long and his father ended kicking him out of the way. The boy's limbs felt weak and he toppled over like a ragdoll, and when his body slammed against the floor he felt the air whoosh out of his lungs.

"When I say you move, you move!" shouted his father.

Russell heard his mother from the other side of the house. "My head hurts, stop yelling!"

"Shut up! Not my fault your kid's so fucking lazy," the man yelled back, and kicked Russell again.

His foot caught the boy in the head. Russell landed on his side, blinked a few times to clear his vision and crawled away without protesting, wordlessly curling up in the corner in case his father decided to beat him some more. His head hurt, but he wasn't feeling as hot as last night, so it was slightly better. His mother stepped in the kitchen with a towel on her head. She was half-naked, but everyone in the house had stopped caring about that for years. She looked at Russell, and then at her husband.

"The brat's sick, just leave him."

Russell looked up at the woman. It was the first time in years she'd acknowledged his existence. Even his father looked surprised, then his face became red and congested.

"You don't tell me what to do, bitch."

"Look, you really want a dead kid in our house?" retorted his mother. "I don't want cops here, and you don't want to end up in jail."

Understanding finally broke through his father's alcohol-infused mind when what she was saying dawned on him. His jaw relaxed and he just said: "Oh."

The woman heaved an exasperated sigh and threw a disgusted glance towards Russell before leaving the kitchen. His father turned away from Russell and opened the fridge. The boy didn't move. Russell didn't move even when his father left. His stomach hurt, and his head hurt, and his whole face felt stopped up. Russell's body started aching horribly after a while of sitting in the same position and he knew he had to lie down. He got up and stumbled back to his bed, laid down on the thin mattress and pulled the cover over his body. His breathing was shaky. Russell closed his eyes.

He woke up in the afternoon feeling very thirsty, but also nauseous. It was like the room was spinning. He brought a hand to his face and felt that his skin was hot. He was really sick and wasn't getting any better. He had to go see Mireille. Russell pushed himself in a sitting position and got his legs out of his bed, but he felt exhausted. He wasn't sure he could even stand up. Russell stared out the window at the spiralling snowflakes and grey skies. He hadn't noticed the snow before now. A violent shiver shook Russell's body and he crawled back under the cover. His head hurt, especially on the side where he'd been hit. Russell tried to ignore the thirst and nausea so he could sleep. He knew he was dirty and sweaty and the smell of beer probably clung to him like a second skin, but he didn't have the strength to do anything, let alone take a shower.

He woke up in the middle of the night again, his stomach cramping up horribly. He had to eat something. He realized he hadn't eaten anything for two days. He got out of bed slowly and walked to the kitchen completely hunched over. His whole body hurt and he was walking like an old man, cautiously, taking it one step at a time. He had to lean against the wall with his hand to make sure he wouldn't trip and fall.

Russell ate some bread, trying not to gag at the stale taste, and drank water from the sink without bothering to take a glass. The fresh water soothed his burning throat and extinguished some of the fire inside of him. He also splashed water on his face and neck. When he turned off the faucet, he felt a little better and his stomach had stopped cramping up. The room was cold and he shivered violently. He went back to bed, and when he lied down he felt like maybe he'd get better from now on. The water had certainly helped a lot. He quickly fell asleep.

Russell woke up with a start. There was someone knocking at the door.

The boy blinked, and sat up. His body still felt achey, but he was better than yesterday. He got out of bed and noticed that he wasn't shivering as much. He still felt cold, and occasionally he trembled, but at least it wasn't uncontrollable. Eating that bread had been a good choice, even if it tasted bad.
Russell went to the door and cracked it open, squinting at the light as a gust of cold, fresh air hit him. He was surprised to see Chris staring back at him. His friend's eyes widened when he saw Russell.

"Holy, you look like shit."

Russell asked what Chris was doing there. His voice cracked a little because his throat was dry.

"Uh, the aquarium? Does that remind you of anythin'?"

Russell realized he had completely forgotten about the aquarium.

"We waited for you at the zoo and we were wonderin' why you weren't there, so here I am. What happened? You sick?"

Russell considered his state. He didn't feel too bad compared to last night. He was probably getting better. He answered he was fine.

"...Right," said Chris. "You still feeling up to it?"

Russell said yes. Then he noticed Chris had said "we", and he asked if Tabasa was there.

"Yeah, yeah," answered Chris annoyedly. "But he's a few houses back, told'im to stay there and wait. I figured you didn't want him to see your home. But are you sure he's all right up there? I mean, the guy acts super suspicious. He's really nervous and jumpy. I just said hi and he whipped around like I was some kind of ghost."

Russell said that was something the zookeeper did. He couldn't help it, apparently.

"Huh," said Chris. "So how long till you're ready?"

Russell told him to wait just a bit, and he closed the door. He looked around the place. He was lucky that his parents weren't there, because his father would have gone ballistic if he'd seen Chris here. The man hated when people came to his house, even if it was just on the doorstep - unless it was Officer Bombers. Russell headed for the bathroom. The mirror reflected someone pale and tired. He didn't have time to take a shower, so he just washed his face and changed clothes.

He got out of the bathroom and grabbed his jacket, and realized he didn't have the money for the entrance fee. He dug into his pockets, but there were only a few coins leftover from the zoo. Russell went back to the living room and looked under the couch to see if his father had dropped anything under it. There were only beer caps and empty cans. Russell straightened and went to look under his mother's bed, and his eyes caught a crumpled bill peeking out from behind one of the bed's feet. It had slipped in the corner between the walls and the bed. He climbed on the bed, touching as least of its surface as he could, and tried to reached for it, but there wasn't enough place for his arm to pass through the gap. Russell got off the bed and tried to pull the bed to him to dislodge it, but it was too heavy for him. He let his arms drop at his side. He couldn't pay the entrance fee, and with Tabasa and Chris there he couldn't just pass through like he did at the zoo. He didn't want to ask them for any money, either.

"Russ?" called out Chris from behind the door.

Russell looked at the door, and back at the bill. The whole situation felt stupid. The money was right there, why couldn't he just have it? The boy moved closer and tried to pull the bed again. It moved slightly, but not enough. Russell's heart was beating hard and he felt out of breath. If he was feeling better, it wouldn't have been this difficult.

"What're you doing?" asked Chris.

Russell considered crawling under the bed to get to the bill, but it was extremely dirty there and he really didn't want to touch anything that was related to his mother's activities. The boy grabbed the edge of the bed one more time and pulled harder, and finally the bed moved away from the wall. Russell quickly climbed on the bed again, careful not to touch the messy bedsheets with his hands, and grabbed the bill under the bed. He finally fished it out and hurried to the door before Chris decided to come inside. Luckily, the bill was simply dusty and not as gross as Russell thought it would be.

He opened the door and Chris said : "Finally! Thought you drowned in the toilet bowl or somethin'."

Russell said they could go and closed the door behind him. Chris guided him to where Tabasa was waiting. Both of the boys were surprised to see him merely two houses away.

Chris glared at the man. "What're you doin'? I told you to wait where I left you!"

Tabasa raised both of his hands to appease the boy's anger.

"I thought you were taking time, so I uh... I was wondering if everything was all right."

Then he looked at Russell and said : "...Hey there, buddy."

Russell said hello. Tabasa lowered his hands and his blue gaze grew more intense. Russell felt uncomfortable.

"Are... you alright?" asked the zookeeper. "You don't look very good..."

"He's cold," said Chris. "We should go."

"Oh, right, right... Let's go then...! ... The car's right over there, in the next street," he told Russell.

Russell said he thought they were going by bus.

"No, no," said Tabasa. "That way you two don't need to pay the bus fee."

He turned around and the boys followed him to where he'd parked his car. Russell's skin felt sensitive under his clothes. He knew he was dirty and sweaty, and hoped he didn't smell too bad. As tired as his body felt, he really did want to go to the aquarium with Tabasa and Chris. He hoped he wouldn't get sick again.

Chapter Text

On the way to the aquarium, Chris noticed that Tabasa was checking the rearview mirror a lot.

Both of the boys were sitting in the backseat, and the zookeeper's car made weird wheezing, rattling sounds each time the tires hit a bump or whenever the man had to brake. It wasn't very reassuring.

Chris felt cautious of the zookeeper, even if it he was rather laid-back and didn't seem to have any ill intentions. He found the zookeeper's friendliness suspicious, as adults usually weren't that pleasant with him or Russ, and the way he constantly wore a hood was questionable. The thing that bothered him the most about the zookeeper was his reaction when he had approached him at the zoo earlier. The man had turned around too fast for it to be normal, and the way he'd jerked away from Chris had been disproportionately violent. That scene weighed on Chris' mind, because the handful of people he knew to be this jumpy were all drug addicts. Although it seemed Tabasa hadn't made any weird moves on Russell all this time, Chris didn't feel comforted by the zookeeper's behaviour and he wanted to make sure the man was completely innocent. He didn't know why Russ had decided it was okay to befriend this guy, and he wasn't about to trust his friend's intuition. It didn't matter if Russ trusted this Tabasa guy or whatever, Russell was clueless about warning signs and never caught on that he was facing a threat until it was already too late. He often would've gotten in big trouble with their costumers because of that unawareness if it weren't for Chris watching out for him.

Chris had decided to keep an eye out for any suspicious behaviour on Tabasa's part ever since Russell had told him about the aquarium. He really didn't want to have a repeat of their past experience with another stranger. He could still remember very clearly the frightened expression on Russell's face from back then. It had shocked him to see such a vivid emotion in his otherwise dispassionate friend, and he'd felt really guilty leaving Russ behind with a complete stranger who was twice his size. He didn't even want to think of what could've happened if he hadn't come back for Russell's empty bags.

Chris sneaked another glance in Russell's direction. The blonde had started nodding off five minutes into their trip, and was now resting his head against the window with his eyes closed. His mouth was half-open and he snored a little. Chris knew immediately that something was up with Russ when he opened the door to his house and showed his face. It was obvious he'd gotten hit by his dad again, because there was a bruise on the very side of his head, hidden just beneath his hair. Chris was no stranger to the bruises on his friend's body, and had a sharp eye for them even when they were hidden or faded. Not only had he gotten hurt, but Russell was pale, had bags under his eyes and looked tired.

Chris suspected that Russell was feeling worse than he let on. The thing was Russell didn't ask for help when he got sick, just disappeared for a time and then suddenly reappeared like nothing had happened. Chris had no way to know that his friend had been sick until Russell actually told him after the fact, and he was so good at hiding how shit he felt that Chris rarely realized it by himself. Though hiding it may not have been the best word to describe what Russell was doing ; it was more like he himself ignored what state he was in. Chris wasn't completely sure if Russell was simply tired this time because he hadn't slept enough, or if he was falling sick. He'd sneezed when they were heading to the zookeeper's car, once, but he hadn't done it again and it could've just been the cold weather. He'd said he was feeling fine earlier, too, and that had to mean something. He would've just said it if he was sick. Despite all his reasoning, Chris couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with him and he hoped that his mom hadn't given her cold to Russ.

The zookeeper suddenly spoke. "We're here... Maybe you should wake him up."

Chris looked out the window and noticed people with their kids holding onto blue balloons from the aquarium, with a shimmering green sea turtle drawn in the middle. Chris stared ahead and saw they were entering a parking lot, and the aquarium towered over the cars. It was a huge building, with blue paint and shiny windows, and people were flowing in and out like cars on a two-way lane.

He reached for his friend's shoulder.

"Hey, Russ, wake up."

Russell slowly opened his eyes and blinked. Then his gaze focused on the one who'd woken him up. He recognized Chris, straightened, and looked around to get his bearings. His blue eyes took in the scene, the building and the people, and then he turned to Chris and asked if they were there. He had a red mark on the side of his face where he'd flattened it against the window, and Chris grinned.

"Nice facepaint," said Chris.

Russell didn't get what he was saying at first, and then turned around and tried to see himself in the window, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hey, Russ... Did you sleep well?" asked the zookeeper from the front seat.

The blonde looked at the back of the man's seat and nodded, even if Tabasa couldn't see him.

"He said yes," Chris informed the man.

"Oh... okay," answered the man. "Thanks."

The zookeeper parked in the third line of the parking lot and stopped the car. They all got out of the vehicle, and Chris noticed Russell shiver from the cold. The zookeeper seemed to notice as well.

"Come on, let's hurry inside... It's time we had some fun!"

They quickly reached the entrance and Chris dug in his pockets to take out the money his mom had given him. He was waiting for his turn while Tabasa paid for his ticket, when he saw that Russell was looking at his hand with a strange expression.

"What's up, Russ?"

The blonde looked up at him. There was a short moment of silence, and then he said he didn't have enough. He didn't think the aquarium would be so expensive. Chris took a closer look at the change in his friend's hand. Russ had a sawbuck and some small change, and the entrance fee was 14 dollars for people their age.

Chris reassured him. "It's fine, man, I got more than what I need for the ticket."

Russell shook his head and said that Chris wouldn't have enough for a souvenir then. Besides, he didn't want to use the money Chris' mom had worked so hard for.

Chris shrugged. "I don' really care 'bout souvenirs and I'm pretty sure Mom doesn't mind."

Russell was about to answer, but just then the zookeeper turned around and said: "Okay... Let's go!"

Both children stared at him and Chris said : "We didn' pay yet, dude."

Tabasa smiled brightly. "That's fine... I got your tickets!" The man handed them two light orange tickets. "Here you go..."

Neither of them moved. Chris frowned. "Why'd you pay for us?"

The zookeeper seemed confused and his smile lost a bit of its happiness. "Well, uh... I thought it would make you happy..."

Chris didn't really like this, and he felt like the zookeeper was trying to buy their favour. He looked at Russell, and his friend just seemed puzzled. Well, he didn't really seem like anything, because his face was as blank as ever, but judging from his lack of reaction... Knowing Russ in general, he probably didn't get what the zookeeper was doing. Chris turned back to the zookeeper and grabbed the tickets.

"Well, that's fine by me. Just don' expect anythin' in return."

"Of course not...!" answered the man. "...It's just that I thought I'd surprise you two. Like a gift, you know...?"

"Sure. Here, take it," said Chris as he handed Russ his ticket.

The blonde took it, but he stared at Tabasa and asked: why?

The zookeeper was looking more and more confused by the minute. "... Aren't you guys happy...? I really thought you two would like it if I bought your tickets... I mean... It's not a big deal, is it?"

"No, it's fine," said Chris. He was okay with getting presents if that meant keeping his mom's money, as long as the zookeeper didn't have any shady reasons behind it. After all, from what Chris could tell, Tabasa wasn't someone with money problems and paying two kids a trip to the aquarium probably didn't seem like much. Maybe Tabasa really did appreciate Russ and was willing to give him nice things, but if that was the case, the guy was in for a hell of a time. Russell did not understand the concept of gifts at all. In fact, his friend was still standing there holding his ticket like it was some unidentified object he didn't know how to handle.

"Come on, let's just go," said Chris, and he walked away from the ticket booth. The zookeeper followed suit and Russell did as well, after a small moment of hesitation.

"... Well, at any rate," said the zookeeper while unfolding a map he'd gotten from the booth. "Apparently, we're closest to the tunnel and the touch pool... They've got rays in there!" He looked at Chris and asked: "What do you say?"

"Sounds good to me," said Chris.

They turned around to Russell, who was walking behind them. Russell looked at them and nodded.

They approached the basin. Dark shapes were gliding across the shallow waters and there were at least twenty kids trying to reach the same ray. Chris found it childish, how they strained to even brush the tip of the ray's wings, but at the same time he kind of really wanted to touch it too. He stopped a foot away from the basin and looked at the other two to see what they would do.
Russell stopped even earlier than him, his blue eyes fixated on the crowd. He didn't particularly look like he wanted to come any closer. The zookeeper walked straight up to the basin and asked a couple to move to the side, and then he turned around and gestured for them to come closer. Chris glanced at Russ, who seemed to hesitate, so he decided to join the zookeeper. Just as he'd thought, Russ quickly followed him. Tabasa smiled at them and rolled up his sleeves.

"What's wrong, you two... Scared of the rays?"

Chris shot him a look. "Nah, I guess we just don' wanna to be seen with you."

Tabasa laughed light-heartedly. "That's cold, haha..." Then the zookeeper put his hand in the water, and he shivered. "Oh... That's cold."

Chris stared at him, and thought oh well, why the heck not. He rolled up his sleeves as well and reached out to the rays, and saw that Russell was holding his hands close to his chest.

"You don' wanna do it?" he asked his friend.

Russell shook his head. He was tense, like he was still cold from the outside.

"Is it the water?" asked Chris. "You don't have to put your hand in, you can try touchin' the ray when it's close. We'll bring it close, yeah?"

Russell said okay.

Chris stared at him. "...Are you okay though?"

Someone yelped and they were distracted by the sound, their heads turning towards the voice. The zookeeper's face was drenched and the people around him were trying to hide their laughter, some more successful than others.

"What the hell happened?" Chris asked him.

"One of the rays... splashed me..." answered Tabasa, but he looked puzzled as to why.

"Sorry!" exclaimed a mother next to them, and she was barely repressing her laughter. The little girl in her arms was laughing so much her small face was a bright pink. "She didn't mean to make the ray panic like that."

"Oh... It's alright," said the zookeeper with a sheepish smile, and he wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat. "It's just water..."

Chris smirked at the zookeeper's mishap, and then looked at Russ. What he saw nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. His friend's lips had a tiny, almost invisible curl to them that nobody would've noticed if they hadn't spent as much time with him as Chris. Russ was smiling. Smiling. That must've been at least the equivalent of full-blown laughter in Russell's case.

"Holy shit, Russ," said Chris.

Russell looked at him, the curl disappeared, and he said : what?

Chris stared at him a while longer and then said : "Uh, nothin'. Nothin' at all."

Russell gazed at him blankly, probably trying to figure out what was Chris' problem, and then said okay and went back to watching the rays.

Chris turned back to the basin as well, but his mind was reeling from what he'd just seen. Russell smiled. He'd never seen Russell smile because of anyone but him, and even he had a hard time making Russell smile. It was really rare for Russell to let go, even if it was just a little. Chris didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, he was glad that Russell had found more reason to smile, but on the other, he didn't like that the zookeeper was that reason. They hadn't even known each other for that long. What did that mean about his and Russell's friendship? Wasn't it more than a few months' worth? Chris looked over at the zookeeper, who was now pulling back his hood to squeeze the water out, and he couldn't help feeling a tad jealous. Part of him knew he was probably overreacting, but he was wondering if Russ would still need him if the zookeeper stayed around. He looked back at the basin as one of rays swam closer, and felt frustration welling up inside of him. What had this Tabasa guy done for Russ that he himself hadn't? It was unfair. He'd looked out for Russell for years, and this guy just hung out at the zoo with Russ for a couple months, yet they had the same results... The whole thing felt like a joke.

"Hey... What's the matter?"

Chris jerked out of his thoughts and turned to the zookeeper. The man was looking at him with a concerned expression. He'd put his hood back on for some reason, even though it was still humid.

"What're you talkin' about?" asked Chris defensively.

"You seem down all of a sudden," observed the zookeeper.

"None of your goddamn business."

"Okay, okay, sorry..." answered Tabasa. "It's just that I want you two to have fun... So if there's anything you want, just tell me, okay?

"Right," grunted Chris. Then he noticed Russell was staring at him too, so he asked : "What?"

Russell said: nothing, and looked away.

Chris didn't talk again for a while, listening to the zookeeper's happy monologue as the man held an approximative conversation with Russell about the rays. He sounded used to Russell's silence, and Chris realized that he was just as good at talking to Russell as he was. It didn't feel awkward or unnatural between them, and now Chris wondered just how often the two of them would meet. Russ didn't tell him everything he did, so Chris had assumed he only went to the zoo from time to time, but this made it seem like they really were more than just aquaintances. He could see that Russell appreciated the man's presence, that he liked listening to him, even if the zookeeper was an adult. It annoyed Chris even more, and he retrieved his hand from the basin. He didn't feel like doing this anymore, didn't want to stay in the aquarium with them, didn't feel like he could have fun here, but for his friend he felt compelled to stay. He leaned against the basin's wall and silently watched them interact. The zookeeper managed to guide one of the rays closest to the edge as possible, and told Russell to come closer so he could touch the fish. Chris stepped back to let Russ in front, and the blonde reached out to the glossy fin. As soon as his fingertips touched the strangely soft surface of the ray's cold skin, he retracted his hand in surprise.

"It's weird, huh?" said Tabasa with a smile.

Russ looked up at the man, and then back at the ray which was swimming away. He nodded and asked if he could try again.

"... Sure," answered the zookeeper. Then he turned to Chris. "Can you help me catch another...?"

Chris half-heartedly complied.

Chapter Text

After spending some time there, they exited the touch pool area and started walking through the tunnel. Chris walked behind the zookeeper, and Russell trailed behind. Tabasa and Chris stopped from time to time so Russell could catch up.

"You still feelin' cold?" Chris asked him.

Russell said he was fine, but he knew he was slow. The cold that had lingered on his skin earlier had been replaced by uncomfortable warmth, and he felt sweaty. Fortunately, the aquarium's ventilation system and many tanks filled with cold water made the air rather cool, and Russell hoped he wasn't showing how hot he was. He was trying to repress his sneezes as much as he could, because Chris had looked at him weirdly when he'd sneezed earlier, but he was barely managing it. He had to wipe his nose with his sleeve whenever the others weren't looking. The last thing he wanted was for this trip to end prematurely because Chris thought he was sick. Admittedly, it was the truth, but Russell liked being here and didn't want to go.

Russell liked fish. They were silent and pretty. Their movements were effortless and gracious, and they were calming to look at.

He wondered why Chris had acted so snappy at the touch basin. Russell didn't think Tabasa had done or said anything wrong. Russell didn't like to see Chris in a bad mood like that, especially since they were supposed to be having a good time. Russell looked ahead and watched Tabasa and Chris walk in front of him. Chris' shoulders were a bit hunched, and it looked like he was sulking. Russell didn't understand why. A huge manta ray caught Russell's eye and he stopped to catch his breath. It was gliding horizontally to the tube they were walking in, and there were big fish all around. Russell squinted at the shapes that were moving far behind and recognized one to be a turtle.

"Russ, you comin'?"

Russell turned and saw that Chris was waiting. He joined his side and they both trailed behind the zookeeper.

"You sure you're alright?" asked Chris. "You don't look alright."

Russell looked at him and said Chris didn't look very alright either.

"What?"

Russell stated that Chris was acting weird.

"No I'm not," said Chris.

Then why was he acting like that with Tabasa?

Chris glanced at the green hooded coat. "... It's nothin'."

Russell didn't insist.

They reached the end of the tunnel and Tabasa waited for them to come closer. "Hey, you two... are you hungry? Or thirsty maybe...?"

Chris shrugged, but Russell said he was thirsty. He wanted to cool down, and his body hurt where his father had hit him the day before. He felt like he needed to sit and rest for a bit, and having a drink was a good excuse to do so while avoiding suspicion.

Tabasa nodded. "Okay, well... There's a food place nearby, so how about we take a pause and see what exhibits we want to see?"

Russell nodded and Chris said : "Okay."

The zookeeper guided them around a few halls and they approached some sort of hut. It had a blue sign plastered on its front with a list of available drinks and food. Russell's gaze drifted to the prices. They were expensive. Tabasa didn't seem disturbed by it, however, and he asked them what they wanted. Chris' answer was fast.

"Cola."

Tabasa nodded, and looked at Russell. "What about you?"

Russell said he didn't care, and asked if they could go sit down. His body hurt. Standing in the middle of the crowd that was waiting for their order made him feel small, and he didn't like it.

"Of course," said Tabasa. "You don't mind if I choose for you?"

Russell shook his head. Chris looked at him, and then at Tabasa. "Just pick orange juice for him."

Then Chris gestured for Russell to follow and they went to sit down at a nearby table. His friend sat across from him, and Russell saw that he was staring, so he tried not fidgeting so much. His stomach hurt and his head was starting to hurt too, not to mention how uncomfortably warm he was feeling, and it was difficult to stay still.

Chris suddenly spoke. "Are you hot or something?"

Russell looked at him and shook his head. He was fine.

Chris looked like he didn't believe that. "You know, if you don't feel good, we can just leave."

Russell said he didn't want to. He was having fun here.

Chris didn't answer. His stare lingered a bit, and then he looked away. Tabasa was approaching their table carrying a tray with three cups. The man lowered it on the table and sat next to Russell.

"They were faster than I expected, " said Tabasa happily as he went to grab the cups to hand it to them. Chris was quicker than him and took his drink for himself. Tabasa looked lost for a moment, and then he just grabbed Russell's and gave it to him.

"Here you go, Russ. Drink up, you look like you're a bit too warm."

Russell said thank you and felt Chris' gaze on him again. Now he knew for sure that he was showing signs of the fever, and he wished that it was something he could hide. Tabasa seemed gullible enough, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Chris called him out in front of the zookeeper. Russell didn't want Tabasa to know he was sick, if that meant they had to leave.

Fortunately, Chris didn't say anything more about his state. Once they finished their drinks, Russell felt a bit better and hoped that it would last. Tabasa went to throw the plastic cups in the trash and put away the tray with the others, and then walked back to them with a smile.

"Ready to go? I think I saw the mascot while I was at the trash bin... Would you like to check it out?"

The boys shrugged, and the zookeeper took it for a yes. He guided them to the spot where he had seen the mascot, and there was indeed a giant plush turtle standing there, waving at the passerbys and taking pictures with people.

"Let's go say hello!" said Tabasa excitedly, and Russell looked up at him. The zookeeper's eyes were bright and he suddenly looked a lot younger than usual. Russell didn't think adults could act so much like a kid. For some reason, it felt nice to see that expression on Tabasa's face.

They went to the mascot and the turtle turned to them. It waved around its two front fins and said hello in a girl's voice. Apparently, the mascot was named Whirtle the Turtle. It was written on the front of the suit.

"Would you two like a picture with me?" the turtle asked them. Her voice sounded like she was smiling.

"Oh, yes, go ahead!" exclaimed Tabasa with a wide smile. "I'll take a picture of you with the mascot!"

Russell looked at Chris, and Chris made a face at the zookeeper. "Seriously?"

"Yes!" said Tabasa.

The turtle waddled up to them and lowered her fins on their shoulders. Russell felt that the person inside must have been hot in that suit, like him, because the underside of the fin felt very warm against his shoulder. He felt uncomfortable and the air was getting more stifling the longer he stood next to the mascot that was radiating heat, yet at the same time, the weight of the fin on his shoulders did not feel bad. Next to him, Chris groaned and complied when he saw that Russell was okay with getting their picture taken. Tabasa held up his phone and snapped what was probably a few pictures, judging by how long it took. Then he smiled and did a thumbs up, and the mascot's fins disappeared from their shoulders. The big turtle waved them goodbye and then went over to another group, a family with two little girls.

They continued the tour, and a few minutes later Tabasa saw that there was a gift shop not far from where they were. They went inside and split up to look for a souvenir that they liked. Chris chose a plastic glass for his mom. It has pretty transparent pictures of fish inside the plastic, and there was a blue liquid at the bottom with glitter and two small plastic floating jellyfish. Tabasa found three keychains, two of which could light up, a fish-shaped pen, a pencil with turtle patterns, and also a holographic paperweight.

"For the papers on my desk," he told Russell with a wink.

Russell, for his part, chose a little plastic camera. It was the kind with pictures already inside it, that changed when he pressed the button on the top right corner. It wasn't expensive, and he liked the pictures. When they went to the counter, Tabasa paid for them again. Chris didn't even try to question it this time, and Russell still didn't understand why Tabasa was doing that. They had brought money for it, they could very well purchase the things they had chosen, so why was he using his own? Tabasa turned around and gave them back their respective souvenirs, and then also gave them each a keychain.

"It's good to buy souvenirs... But I think group souvenirs are even better," said Tabasa. "Now we each have a keychain, so we can remember we came here together... Great, right?"

Russell looked down at the keychain and noticed a button. He pressed it, and the keychain started glowing green. Then the light turned blue, and then red. He looked at Chris and saw that his friend had the other keychain that could light up. That meant Tabasa had the one that didn't. Russell turned his gaze to the zookeeper, who was looking at his own keychain with a smile. It looked like Tabasa didn't mind having the boring keychain.

They left the gift shop and went to the next exhibit. This aquarium was very brightly lit and there were lots of different fish inside of it. There were small and big fish, striped and dotted, of all colors and all shapes. He saw a fish that was both purple and orange, and another white one that had a very long nose. He watched the anemones gently sway at the bottom of the aquarium, and the starfish in the corners where the glass walls joined. One of the fish glided next to Russell's face. It was a silver fish with long fins, and he remembered this was the fish a little girl in the red dress had shown him all that time ago. Her proud little voice rang out in his mind excitedly.

"Did you know there are other things that live in the sea? Some of them are so small no one can see them, like bacteria!"

He wondered where she was now, if she'd grown up just like him. Did she still have the same smile, and the same light in her eyes? Her red dress would be too small for her now, so maybe she'd gotten a new one. Maybe she'd cut her long silver hair. And maybe... Maybe she hadn't changed at all. A memory distinctly appeared in Russell's mind, that of him and the little girl finding her parents. She'd ran up to them just like they'd ran up to her, and he could only stand back and watch. She'd left holding hands with her mom and dad, smiling at him and waving goodbye. Her mom and dad were smiling too, smiling at her with warm light in their eyes. Her mom and her dad, smiling at her.
He watched the silver fish swim upwards, towards the surface, up to the bright neon lights. It hurt his eyes, and suddenly he felt dizzy and couldn't breathe. He felt himself falling backwards.

"Woah!" Chris swiftly caught him by the shoulder when he stumbled, and Russell didn't fall. He quickly leaned forward and steadied himself with his hands on his knees, his mouth wide open as he tried to catch his breath. It felt like his lungs couldn't get enough air all of a sudden.

Chris said : "What's going on?"

Russell didn't answer.

Chris decided to guide him to the nearest seat when he saw that his friend was suddenly out of breath. It was occupied by some kid, but the parents were there and saw that Russell wasn't doing well. They asked their son to scooch over and Chris helped Russell sit down. The blonde let himself fall on the seat and held his head in his hands.

"You okay, Russ?"

Russell nodded silently, his face hidden behind his hands.

Chris stared at him, not knowing what to do. The kid's father leaned towards them and said : "Do you need help?"

Chris looked at him judgingly. The man looked genuinely preoccupied by Russell's state, and Chris didn't have much of a choice but to leave Russell here so he could get Tabasa. His friend obviously wasn't going to move. Chris' eyes slid over to the mother and her son, who were both staring. He decided that Russell wasn't risking anything by staying with them. They were a family, and there were people around. As long as Russell didn't try anything funny like leave on his own or something, he'd be fine. Chris turned back to his friend.

"Russ, I'm gonna go get Tabasa, okay? Don't move. You get me?"

Russ nodded sluggishly.

Chris took off and wove his way around the crowd until he found the green hooded coat on the opposite side of the circular tank. The man was gazing at a weird, long-nosed fish with an amused smile, but when he caught sight of Chris running up to him, his expression became concerned and he opened his mouth.

"Is something wr-"

Chris cut him off. "I think Russ is sick."

They hurried back to the bench. Russell was still sitting in the same position, and the woman was talking to him. Her son was staring at him and Chris felt his blood boil when he saw the expression of disgust on the boy's face. The boy looked five years old, and Chris knew that Russell smelled bad and that children that age didn't hide their feelings, but it still pissed him off to see it.

Tabasa knelt in front of Russell. "Hey, buddy... Are you feeling sick?"

Russell didn't move, so the zookeeper took him by the shoulder to get him to react. "Russell?"

The boy lifted his face out of his hands and his gaze focused on Tabasa. His cheeks were bright pink and his eyes looked a bit glazed. His state had worsened in a matter of minutes, and Chris felt that it was because Russell simply couldn't hide how sick he was any longer than he already had.

"Oh... You don't look good, buddy," said Tabasa. He reached up to the boy's forehead and knew he had a fever before his hand touched Russell's skin. He compared it to his own forehead, just to make sure, but it really wasn't much use.

"I'm taking you back home," he stated. He turned to the boy standing next to them. "Sorry, Chris."

Chris shrugged. "Nah, we should go."

Russell shook his head and said he didn't want to leave.

Tabasa looked back at the boy. "...But you're sick, Russell..."

The blonde shook his head again. Tabasa was surprised to see him act so stubborn.

"We're goin' whether you like it or not," said Chris. "I knew you were sick, see, I told you we could leave, but you wouldn't listen."

"It's okay," Tabasa said as he tried to reassure Russell. "We'll come back another time... I promise."

Russell shook his head a third time, but at that point it felt more like it was automatic. Chris spoke again, this time to Tabasa.

"He's not listenin', let's jus' go. Come on Russ, get up."

Russell didn't move.

"...I'll carry you on my back, if you want," proposed Tabasa. "It'll be fun."

Russell stopped shaking his head and looked up, and Tabasa knew he'd caught his attention. If he was hesitating, it meant he wanted to do it. Tabasa turned around and held out his arms behind him.
"Come on, hop on."

Russell said he wasn't a kid anymore.

"Well... When I'm sick, I do what I want," replied Tabasa. "...Even if it's kid stuff. Come on, it's embarrassing staying in this position..."

"Jus' climb on his back already," said Chris. "You're jus' gonna slow us down if you walk anyway."

Russell hesitated a little more, and then slid off his seat onto the zookeeper's back. Tabasa hefted him up and crossed his hands together to secure Russell, then turned around to thank the family for looking after Russell.

As the three of them walked away, Chris looked up at Russell and said : "Is it fun?"

Tabasa didn't hear Russell's answer, but he felt the boy nod. The zookeeper could feel that Russell was too warm, and now that he had the boy so close, he also smelled the acrid odour of sickness emanating from him through the stench of beer. Tabasa had thought he was the one smelling like beer, that maybe one of his friends had spilled over some of their pint on his coat last night, but now he knew better. He wondered why Russell smelled so awful, and why he weighed so lightly on his arms.

As they walked back the way they came from, Tabasa felt Russell's head slowly drop on his shoulder and his grip around Tabasa's neck loosen. Russell had looked tired in the car, and now he was clearly exhausted. Tabasa felt guilty for not figuring out that he was sick. It explained why Russell had been walking so slowly all this time, and why he looked so warm. He wondered if Russell had voluntarily hidden the fact that he was sick and if that was why he hadn't seen it. Whatever the cause, it was Tabasa's fault for not watching out. He should've called the whole thing off when Russell had shown up next to Chris looking like a small zombie. Clearly, the boy needed rest.

They finally reached the car and Tabasa gave the keys to Chris so he could open it. The boy pulled the back door open and Tabasa lowered Russell on the seat. Chris watched with a dark expression on his face as his friend limply pulled himself up with a red face and cloudy eyes.

"Shit, Russ. I told you we could leave if you felt bad."

Russell looked away without answering and grabbed his seatbelt. Chris didn't insist, although he did huff in annoyance, and rounded the vehicle to go sit in his own place. Russell missed the belt clasp a few times, and Tabasa had to help him fasten his seatbelt before hurriedly closing the door on the boy and getting in the driver's seat. Behind him, Chris asked : "Where're you goin'?"

"Well, I'm bringing him back to his parents... You'll have to guide me to his house once we're there."

"No," said Chris firmly. "We get 'im to a doctor right away."

"Without his parents?" asked Tabasa, looking at Chris questioningly through the rearview mirror.

"Without his parents," confirmed the boy. "They aren't available."

Tabasa looked back at the road and said : "...Okay."

He didn't ask why Russell's parents were unavailable, or where they were. He had the feeling Chris wouldn't tell him, and that Russell wouldn't want him to know. Tabasa glanced up at the mirror again to try and catch a glimpse of the blonde boy, but he was slumped behing his seat and Tabasa could only see part of his shoulder. What the zookeeper could clearly see, however, was the worry on Chris' face as he stared at his friend.

"He's gonna be okay if we get him to the hospital, right?"

Tabasa passed a car and nodded. "Don't worry... He'll be fine."

But he heard Chris sigh and shift and mutter : "He's so stupid. Shoulda stayed in bed."

Russell didn't protest. He was silent.

Chapter Text

When Tabasa opened the door to let Russell out, the boy had his eyes closed and didn't move.

"Russell?"

The boy shifted a little and mumbled that he wanted to sleep. Chris appeared next to Tabasa and grabbed his friend's arm.

"Come on, get up," he ordered as he unbuckled the boy's seatbelt. "You can sleep later."

Russell opened his eyes and looked up at them, his gaze even hazier than before, and he asked where they were.

"The hospital," Chris answered, beating Tabasa to the punch. "We're gonna see a doctor, okay? You hafta get out of the car now."

Russell nodded groggily and he slipped out of his seat, shivering when a gust of wind hit him. Tabasa closed the door behind him and Chris quickly shed off his jacket and handed it to the boy.

"Here, put it on."

Russell didn't react, so Chris just draped it on the boy's shoulders himself and then took his friend by the hand.

"Come on," he said, and started pulling Russell along. The boy followed him with a few swaying steps, but then suddenly stopped to sneeze. Tabasa narrowly avoided tripping over him and quickly caught himself on the side.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked him, worry peeking through his impatient expression when his friend refused to move again.

Russell said his legs felt weird. He wanted to sit down a little until the ache went away.

"We're not far... Come on, just follow me."

Chris tugged at his hand but Russell simply shook his head. He really wanted to sit down. Tabasa could see that Chris was getting upset, so he stepped forward and kneeled next to them.

"Here, just help him climb on my back."

Chris stared at him and then nodded, pulling Russell closer to the zookeeper. "Come on, just like earlier. Grab his neck."

Russell did as he was told, and Tabasa felt the boy fall on his back with all his weight. Chris helped Tabasa take a hold of the boy's legs, and warned Russell not to let go. Tabasa stood up and they started walking again towards the side of the hospital, where the entrance to the emergency room was. They were quickly directed to some seats in the waiting room, and Tabasa was hopeful that they wouldn't have to wait very long. The people in this place were scarce compared to the times he'd had to come for a broken bone, which was a bit surprising considering it was winter break.
Russell was nodding off again in his chair, and he ended up falling against the other boy. Tabasa glanced at Chris, but the boy didn't try to push his friend away and instead continued to nervously tap the heel of his foot against the floor. His arms were crossed and when he caught Tabasa looking, he promptly glared at him. The zookeeper quickly averted his eyes. He wasn't good at direct contact. They didn't talk-it was slightly awkward. At one point Russell started slipping off his friend's shoulder, but Chris was quick to adjust their position while grumbling.

"Russ, seriously," he huffed. Of course Russell didn't bother to answer.

They waited for about thirty minutes before someone beckoned them in a free room, which was a record time for Tabasa. They had to rouse the blonde to go there and it looked like Chris felt hesitant about it, so Tabasa did it instead by gently shaking him by the shoulder. Russell opened his eyes and was compliant enough to slip off his seat when asked to, but he was still not standing up straight so Chris helped him to the room by holding him by the arm. Tabasa had attempted to help too, but the look Chris had shot him when he'd reached out was more than dissuasive, and he settled for merely following the two boys inside. A nurse came by to take his temperature, pulse and probably a bunch of other things that Tabasa didn't follow, but when she asked Russell questions the boy didn't answer. The nurse quickly gave up and told them a doctor would be coming before she busily left the room. Silence settled in the room once again, save for the occasional passage of staff outside the door, and Russell visibly fought to stay awake and upright as he sat on the side of the bed.

"Russ? Are you going to fall asleep like that?" asked Chris.

Russell absent-mindedly shrugged without looking up.

"Maybe he should lie down," suggested Chris. Tabasa was surprised to see that the boy was looking at him, as if expecting him to help.

"....Oh, sure," the man said, and quickly rose from his seat to help Russell. As he took the boy by the shoulders and eased him in the position, he heard a woman's voice in his back.

"Um, excuse me..."

Tabasa turned around and saw a pretty nurse standing at the door, holding a folded blanket in her arms, her salmon-colored hair flowing down her shoulders in beautiful waves. Her face was familiar to him, and he knew he'd seen her around here before. Her skin was pale and she seemed tired, but she was harboring a small flustered smile that lit up her face.

"Ah, hello... I'm sorry to disturb... I'm just here t-to check on Russell," she stammered. "I heard that he was here, and, um, well... I-I thought I would come see him."

"Oh... Of course," Tabasa answered. "Go ahead. Although... you should know, another nurse just came by."

"Ah, y-yes, I know that," she replied with a short nod, and walked up to the bed. "I'll be quick, this room isn't, um, one of m-mine tonight. It's just that, I... I know him, so, I wanted to see how bad it was."

"You know Russ?" Chris asked suddenly, and she looked surprised to see him there, as if she hadn't noticed him.

"Ah, well, yes... He comes by from time to t-time," she answered. "Are you a friend?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah." He paused shortly and then gestured towards Tabasa with his thumb. "And this guy too, apparently."

Tabasa nodded as well.

"Ah, I see," answered the nurse, and Tabasa thought he saw her expression flicker slightly just then, but the impression was gone as fast as it had come. She unfolded the cover and pulled it over the bed, then bent down and said : "... Russell?"

The boy's blue eyes opened just a crack and he gazed at her silently.

She smiled at him kindly. "Hello. I heard you were cold, so I b-brought you a blanket. Is that better?"

Russell stared for a bit, and then he closed his eyes again without answering. She laid her hand over the boy's forehead.

"Oh my," she murmured, and then she looked up at them. "Has a doctor c-come by yet?"

"No," Chris answered. "But the nurse said he would soon."

The nurse nodded, and as she straightened, her green eyes were troubled.

"I... I have to go back, but, um... I'll come by again when I'm d-done. P-Please look after him."

"Sure thing. That's why we're here," Chris told her.

"...Is there anything we can do?" asked Tabasa, and the nurse's lips tightened into a line.

"I-I don't think so, at least not until the doctor sees him... Ah, b-but don't worry, it's good that you stay with him f-for now. I know he isn't the c-conversational type, but talking to him would be good, so that he d-doesn't fall asleep before the doctor comes."

Tabasa nodded and the nurse pulled the cover up to Russell's chin, bade them goodbye, and hurriedly left the room.

Tabasa looked down at Chris and asked : "...Does Russell come to the hospital often?"

The boy shrugged. "Beats me. I knew he didn't like goin' to the nurse's office at school, but I didn't think he came here instead."

"...Oh." Tabasa said, and he watched Chris pull up a chair next to Russell's bed.

"So, Russ. Gotta say I'm impressed, you never told me you had a personal nurse. She's real pretty too, is that why you're not interested in Gardenia?"

Russell opened his eyes again to stare at his friend, and Chris raised both hands with a grin.

"Hey, I know you want to sleep, but your nurse told us to talk to you. It ain't my fault."

Tabasa pulled up a chair as well and watched the two boys in silence as Chris continued.

"You come here often?"

Russell didn't answer. Instead, he just shifted in the bed and turned his back to his friend, curling up so far beneath the blanket that only a few blonde strands of his hair were visible.

"Look, it's fine if you don' wanna answer. I get it, you probably didn' want me to know about this. But honestly, if I had to choose between the school's nurse and that earlier nurse, I'd sure choose her too, ya know?"

A muffled cough came from under the blanket.

"I dunno how you did it, but man, you hit the jackpot. I mean, all the other nurses are really average compared to her. Did you even do it on purpose? 'Cause if you did, you're one sly dog. Though, I'm pretty sure you didn't."

Russell coughed again, but other then that, he didn't react to his friend's words. That didn't discourage Chris, and he just kept talking about the nurses. Tabasa was impressed by Chris' ability to talk this long on his own without stopping even once. Maybe being friends with Russell for several years had granted him that ability. Tabasa himself had caught himself talking into the void several times during his conversations with Russell, if those could even be called that. As he stared at the boys, he quickly noticed that although Chris was smiling, he was a lot more tense than he was letting on.

Finally a doctor with slick dark hair and green eyes appeared in the doorway, and Tabasa stood up to greet him. He looked rather laid-back for a doctor, wearing open sandals over green socks which struck Tabasa as rather odd in a workplace such as this one. He presented himself as Doctor Trace, and asked if Tabasa was Russell's guardian, to which the zookeeper replied that both he and Chris were just friends. The man walked up to his patient and pulled back the blanket so he could see the boy's face.

"Hello, mister Seager. I'm Doctor Trace, and I'm here to examine you and ask you a few questions. May I?"

Russell just hid his face in the pillow.

"Mister Seager?" The doctor tried again: "...Russell?"

Russell didn't look at him. The doctor turned to the others.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Tabasa spoke up first. "...We don't really know exactly... He was looking tired already this morning, and at one point during our visit at the aquarium, he just suddenly... Dropped, I guess."

"He said he was cold at the start," Chris intervened. "I saw him sneeze one time... I dunno if it happened other times, but I think he was hidin' it. And then he started gettin' red, and all sweaty... He didn't wanna leave, though. And then we were lookin' at one of the tanks, and I just saw him start to fall, so I caught him. I don' really know if he tripped or somethin'."

The doctor nodded. "He didn't tell you when it started?"

"No. He didn't say anythin'."

"Have his parents been notified?"

Tabasa glanced at Chris and saw the boy eyeing him rather uneasily. Then Chris looked back at the doctor and said : "...No."

"Can you call them?" asked Doctor Trace.

"Not really," answered Chris. "I dunno their phone number, and they're... busy."

The doctor sighed, and pulled back the covers completely.

"We'll try calling anyway, if he can give us their phone number. Do you know if mister Seager has been around any sick people recently?"

"Yeah, my mom," said Chris. "She was sick 'bout one or two week ago."

"He's been hanging out in cold weather with not many clothes on," said Tabasa. "He might've caught a cold because of that, too."

"Well he usually-" The boy stopped himself, and both adults looked at him questioningly.

"Usually?" the doctor asked.

"Uh, nothin'," Chris hastily replied.

"If you know anything, it would be good to tell me," Doctor Trace told him, and then looked back at Russell. "Mister Seager, I'm going to examine you now. All right?"

The blonde didn't move, so Doctor Trace reached for the boy's shirt, but just as he started lifting it up Russell's hand stopped him. The boy looked up from the pillow with glazed eyes, and his blue gaze sought out the people that stood in his room until it landed on his friend. He didn't need to speak. Chris understood what he wanted right away.

He looked up at the zookeeper and said : "Hey, we should step out for a minute."

Tabasa looked at him with a puzzled expression. "...What?"

"I said, we should step out for a minute," repeated Chris. He started pushing the zookeeper towards the door and told Doctor Trace : "We're leaving it up to you, Doc."

Then he grabbed the zookeeper by his green coat and pulled him out of the room with him.

"Hey, wait...! Okay, okay, I'm going, you can let go of my coat!" exclaimed Tabasa as he stumbled past the door, but Chris only stopped dragging him along when they reached the seats that were further down the hallway. The boy sat down and Tabasa just stood there as he readjusted his coat, and when he finished fumbling with it he looked at Chris. The boy had brought one leg up on the chair and was leaning on his knee, his chin in his hand, silently staring in the direction opposite of the zookeeper in resolute refusal to talk.

Tabasa let out a subtle sigh and sat down next to him. Another uncomfortable silence stretched out between them, so the man took the time to think. Tabasa did not know what to think of Chris, besides the fact that the boy was clearly very protective of Russell. At first, the zookeeper hadn't even been sure that Russell's friend actually existed, because he couldn't begin to imagine what kind of person would choose to hang out with someone as impassive as Russell. He'd quickly realized that line of thought was hypocritical of him, told himself he was silly, and then considered what Russell's friend could possibly be like. He'd envisioned someone with a behaviour that was just as strange as Russell's, someone that never smiled, or didn't talk, or rarely showed emotion. Yet the friend that had showed up was just a normal teenage boy, harbouring a scowl like any other rebellious kid Tabasa had encountered at the zoo. Tabasa had quickly understood that he was the one that did most of the talking when the boys were together, to compensate for Russell's silent mannerisms. Chris was a bit too defensive and he wasn't very polite with Tabasa, but he seemed to sincerely care for Russell and that made him a good kid in the zookeeper's book. Tabasa hadn't expected to get along with Russell's friend as soon as their first meeting anyway : age gaps made interacting awkward and the boy obviously didn't care much for adults. Tabasa would've liked to know Chris better, as he was curious about what had brought both boys so close, but any attempt at making small talk had been thwarted by the boy in less than a second. Tabasa wondered whether Chris knew about what Russell had attempted a few months back, and if so, what Chris thought about it. He wondered if Chris had also noticed the bruises and the injuries, and if he knew who was responsible for it.

The zookeeper had a lot of questions, but he knew asking them to Chris would lead him nowhere. The boy was as prickly as a porcupine whenever Tabasa tried to approach him, and right now he was looking more worried about his friend than anything else. After a few minutes, Tabasa finally made up his mind to ask Chris the question that nagged him.

"...What are you keeping from us?"

Chris sharply turned his head towards him. "What?"

Tabasa spontaneously avoided his gaze. "I mean... I feel like you're hiding something from me and the doctor. About... Russ." He looked at Chris again. "...What is it?"

Chris was frowning now. "Hey, man, maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm his friend."

"Well... I have noticed," Tabasa said, confused as to why he was bringing that up.

"Yeah. Friends don't usually talk behind your back," the boy said in a voice dripping with acid. "If you want to know so bad 'bout Russ, you can ask'im yourself."

By the time Tabasa could think of a reply in the face of Chris' animosity, the boy was already looking away. Tabasa was at loss, and he rubbed his hand through his hair nervously. He felt guilty about letting Russell walk around all day when he'd been sick, and Chris' behavior made him uneasy. What was it that the boy couldn't tell him? He had the feeling that it was related to all the things he'd noticed about Russell, like his clothes that were too light for winter, his strange and unpredictable reactions, his silence and his bruises, the arm sling from a few months ago which Russell didn't like to mention. And on top of all of that, now there was the fact that he regularly came to the hospital.

Tabasa recalled the nurse's face, and he suddenly realized how strange it was for that woman to know Russell in particular. He himself came to the hospital fairly often since he was clumsy, and his job warranted plenty of trips to the emergency department. He'd seen her around regularly, as she was a nurse who worked a lot of shifts here : despite that, he didn't know her and she didn't know him. Why did she have such an interest in Russell? Did he really come by that often, more than Tabasa did? There were even more questions Tabasa wanted to ask Russell now, but he doubted the boy would answer any of them. Russell was too good at clamming up whenever they veered into more personal territory, and every attempt Tabasa had made at coaxing him into talking about his problems had been a failure. Tabasa peered at Chris then, whose foot was impatiently tapping against the floor again. Russell's friend was good at that kind of thing too, even if he'd almost slipped up earlier. Tabasa wondered what it was that he'd been about to say. Something about what Russell usually did when he was sick... Did Russell often fall sick? Did he have some kind of health issue? That would explain why he came to the hospital a lot, but it wouldn't explain everything.

The zookeeper suppressed another sigh as he leaned back in his seat. There was decidedly nothing else he could do, and it made him feel completely useless.

Chapter Text

"All right, Russell. I'm going to need you to sit up for me," said the doctor.

The blanket on top of him was gone, but Russell curled up in the bed to show that he didn't want to move. The lights were too bright, his breath was hot against the skin of his arms and he just wanted to sleep.

"I know you don't feel well, and that's all the more reason to do as I say," insisted the man. "Maybe you prefer that I ask your friends to come back inside so they can help you?"

The boy shook his head and sluggishly pushed himself up. He felt a hand against his back that helped him sit upright, and then he stared ahead through a feverish haze as the doctor lifted up his shirt and settled the cold piece of his stethoscope against his back.

"Take deep breaths, in, and out."

The air he sucked in was dry and scratchy in his chest, and a few coughs tore their way out of his throat. He felt the metal circle move around his back as he tried to catch his breath.

"Again, deeper this time."

He inhaled and felt a soft wheeze rattle inside of him. His lungs weren't doing that this morning.

"Good," said the doctor. "How long have you been feverish for?"

Russell didn't remember, so he didn't answer.

"It doesn't have to be precise," added the doctor. "Three days?"

Russell wasn't sure, but he nodded just so the doctor would stop asking him questions. The man moved in front of him to listen to his heart, the hem of the shirt tickling the tender spot on Russell's flank. After a few seconds, the doctor put away his stethoscope and lifted the shirt a bit higher. Then he let it fall back in place and reached for the boy's forehead, pulling back the blonde strands of hair and staring intently at his forehead. He looked at Russell and tilted his head.

"Where did you get those bruises?"

Russell looked away and didn't answer.

"You're very silent," the doctor stated. "Can you talk?"

Russell ignored him.

"Listen, if you don't say anything then I'm going to ask your friends," the doctor patiently said. "Is that what you want?"

The boy shook his head. Then after a short moment, he said that it was an accident.

"What kind of accident?"

Russell kept staring at the floor and said that he tripped and fell on some furniture at home.

"...I see," the doctor nodded. "Do they hurt right now?"

A little bit.

"And how long have you been sick for?"

Two days, lied Russell. He didn't want the doctor to make a big deal out of it.

"Two days..." echoed the doctor thoughtfully. "Did your parents give you anything to make you feel better? Medecine, soup...?"

Russell lied again by nodding. The doctor straightened and gave him some space. The room was silent until the boy lifted his gaze off the ground and saw that the man's lips were set in a thin line. He didn't look satisfied.

"Can you take off your clothes and stand? I'm going to check something."

Russell slowly let his legs hang over the side of the bed and slid his feet to the ground. He winced when his head throbbed from the change of height and he was a bit wobbly, but the doctor put a hand on his shoulder to help him stand straight.

"Does your head hurt too?"

Russell nodded absentmindedly and reached for the buttons on his shirt, but then hesitated. He looked up at the doctor and asked what he would tell the others.

The doctor showed him a sympathetic smile. "Whatever I find here, it stays between us. I'm only obligated to tell your family, not your friends." Then his eyes widened. "Oh, but if you want them to come back inside, they can. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with me."

Russell looked back down and started unbuttoning his shirt without another word. After he got rid of his pants as well, the doctor made him walk across the room and quickly checked some other things, notably his skin and head. His brow was furrowed by the end of the examination.

"You can put your clothes back on now, Russell." The doctor continued speaking as the boy picked up his pants and started pulling them back on. "You have a bit of bronchitis. It's not too serious, but your fever is rather high, you're dehydrated and... I'm not at ease sending you back home just yet. Can you tell me your parents' phone number? I'll have to call them and inform them of your presence here."

Russell sat down on the bed as he finished buttoning up his shirt and asked why.

"It's normal procedure, and I have a few questions for them."

Russell stared at him. The doctor pulled out a small notepad from his pocket and handed it to him with a pen. "Here, write it down."

Russell said it was just a fall. That was why he had bruises.

"I know, I know," the doctor nodded. "I told you, I have to call them to let them know you're here and that you might be staying, probably in the pediatrics ward. Here."

Russell shifted his gaze towards the objects in the doctor's hand and reluctantly accepted both. There was a short moment of silence during which he scribbled the numbers down, and then he handed everything back.

"Great! I'll let your friend back in, and I'll come back to give you the news. The nurse will come by to give you painkillers. I'll see you again soon," the doctor smiled at him before leaving the room.

Russell was left sitting alone on the bed. He was warm and sweaty and he wanted to lie down to sleep, but there was a buzzing at the back of his skull and tension in his nape at the thought of the doctor calling his parents. He knew the doctor hadn't believed his story about falling, that much was obvious. He was still bruised from last week, beneath the fresher patches of blue and purple, and the doctor had seen all of it when he'd walked around without his clothes on. Russell's gaze dropped to his feet. His head hurt. He didn't want to imagine how his father would react to being called by the doctor. Dad hated when he went to the hospital.

"You did it on purpose, you little shit!"
"No one else would want you. You're too fucking annoying to put up with."
"You want to live on the streets, is that it?"
"Ungrateful brat."

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps at the door, and looked up to see both Tabasa and Chris enter. Neither of them were smiling. Before Russell could speak, Chris walked up to him and lightly punched him in the shoulder.

"Told you you were sick," he said grimly, and sat down with a sigh on the chair next to the bed. "Listen to me next time. I can't believe you actually gotta stay in the hospital for this shit."

Tabasa got closer as well and handed him a paper cup with water in it. "Here... I thought you might be thirsty. ...The nurse said it was okay."

Russell took the cup and drank it entirely. He hadn't said anything, but he'd been thirsty for a while now. He handed the empty cup back to Tabasa and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The water helped and his throat felt less scratchy now.

"You okay?" asked Chris.

Russell shrugged, and then looked at Tabasa. The zookeeper had his arms crossed on his chest and he looked tense too, but Russell didn't know why. Tabasa smiled at him when he caught him looking, so Russell averted his eyes. He really wanted to lie down again, so he did, and it felt a lot better when his muscles relaxed against the mattress despite the shivers that travelled up and down his spine and limbs. No one talked, and Russell was grateful for that. He just wanted to sleep and didn't care to listen to Chris' rambling.

He closed his burning eyes and soon, he was drifting in and out of sleep. He distantly heard the doctor's voice again, and Chris sounding a bit angry, and Tabasa saying worried words. Someone gave him more water to drink with pills, which he swallowed without making a fuss, because he just wanted to go back to sleep. Then someone shook him by the shoulder and he had no choice but to open his eyes if he wanted them to leave him alone. His eyesight was a bit blurry at first, so he blinked twice before he was able to make out Chris' face.

"Hey, Russ. They said your parents didn't want you to stay at the hospital, but the doc convinced them you had to stay. You're going to spend a little time here."

Russell slowly pushed himself up and looked around, shivers and sore muscles lingering beneath the skin of his neck, and he didn't recognize this room.

"They moved you while you were sleeping," Chris told him helpfully. "We're in the pediatrics ward. Because you're one of the older patients, you get to sleep in a single room. Cool, huh?"

Russell squinted at his friend. He didn't really care, but if Chris said it was cool, then it probably was. He lied back down and shivered again, feeling the tremble of his body travelling through his bed. He was really cold now that he was awake.

"I got him another blanket," suddenly said Tabasa's voice as it entered the room. "And water, too."

Russell felt a weight land on the bed and spread over him, and warmth started ebbing into his skin. It was a lot better like this, and he mumbled a thank you.

"You're welcome," answered Tabasa next to him. "Here, drink a little. Doctor Trace said you were dehydrated."

Russell opened his eyes and saw a cup in front of him, but he shook his head and turned away from it. He wanted to sleep.

"You'll sleep once you drink some water," declared the zookeeper, and Russell felt the cold cup be pushed against his nose, which he wrinkled in annoyance. "Come on, Russell... I'll leave you alone after this."

Russell reluctantly opened his eyes a second time and reached for the cup. It hurt his fingers, but he managed to hold onto it anyway. Tabasa seemed satisfied when Russell drank the whole thing.

"Good job, Russ," he congratulated him when Russell gave him back the plastic cup. The boy turned back around and burrowed into the bedsheets, closing his eyes so he could finally go back to sleep.

It took less than a minute for his breathing to even out while both Chris and Tabasa silently gazed at him. Chris looked up at Tabasa, hands sullenly in his pockets, and whispered : "Just how long are you gonna stick around anyway?"

Tabasa shot him a confused look. "...I haven't really thought about it. ...What about you?"

"As long as I need to," replied the boy. "I don't want to leave him alone with you, mister zookeeper."

Tabasa's eyes widened. "Oh... Sure, of course. Do you want me to leave?"

Chris' lips twisted in a wry smile. "He's sleeping now, I don't see how you staying can help him."

Tabasa nodded. "There was something I wanted to do, so I'll just leave you then. It was nice meeting you, Chris. I'm glad to know Russell has another friend."

"Yeah, yeah," Chris answered, waving his words away like they were inconveniencing him. "It was nice meeting you too, or whatever bullshit you adults like to say. Now scram."

Tabasa's gaze slid down to the blond tuft of hair peeking out from the covers and he stepped forward to give the bed a pat, where he knew Russell's leg was. "See you, Russell."

Of course, Russell didn't answer and Chris stared at Tabasa like he was really stupid, but he didn't mind. He'd come back tomorrow. Tabasa left the bedroom and went to the lifts, but when he saw how many people were already waiting there, he chose to take the stairs instead. He made his way down to the first floor and across the corridors until he returned to the emergency department. It didn't take him long to catch a glimpse of the salmon-colored hair he was looking for. He approached the nurse and saw that she was lost in thought, her hands resting on top of an empty tray but otherwise unmoving. He checked her name badge, and then leaned to the side to catch her attention.

"Miss Nif?" he asked softly.

She jerked back to attention and her head snapped up to him, a smile already plastered on her lips. If he hadn't seen her looking so forlorn just a second ago, he would've thought it was sincere.

"What c-can I do for you?" she asked sweetly.

"Ah, we met earlier... I was with Russell."

"Oh! Yes, of c-course! Did you, um, forget something in his room?"

Tabasa shook his head. "No, not at all... I just wanted to talk about him with you, if you've got the time. You seem to know him well."

The nurse gave a small shrug of her shoulder. "Well, n-not really... He's just a regular patient here."

"Could you tell me what kind of health problems bring him here?" asked Tabasa. "He doesn't seem like he's got chronic illness or anything like that, and I'm a bit worried about him."

Miss Nif's green eyes suddenly darkened and her voice was a slightly cutting when she answered. "We c-can't share patient information to anyone who isn't f-family, mister. You're only Russell's f-friend."

Tabasa was surprised by her sudden change in behaviour. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm by asking. I just want to make sure he's okay."

She looked away and started putting supplies on her tray with jarring force: a bottle of desinfectant, a needle, a syringe, cotton swabs, adhesive strips. "Russell is a big boy, he can handle himself," she said quietly, but Tabasa felt like he'd made her mad.

He frowned, puzzled by her answer. "...He's only fourteen."

Her green eyes snapped up at him and suddenly, he didn't find her as pretty as before. "I'm aware."

She pushed past him without a word and Tabasa was left staring dumbly at her retreating back. So much for getting more information about Russell. Something about the nurse felt off, but Tabasa couldn't put his finger on it. Her expression had definitely been odd when he'd first walked up to her. She'd seemed both thoughtful and sad, but the strangest thing of all had been her eyes. He could tell they were usually bright and alert, but in that moment, staring at the empty tray in her hands, they'd been distant and empty. Tabasa felt like he hadn't been supposed to see that.

Chapter Text

Russell picked at the edge of his bed sheets in his darkening room. He was still tired, but when he'd woken up earlier he'd noticed that he was alone. There was no Chris, no Tabasa, no doctor and no nurse. He should've gone back to sleep, and his head felt heavy, but he didn't like this place and it made him too nervous to do so. Instead he'd chosen to take a shower, and now he was clean and bored. He didn't feel well enough to join the other kids in the playroom right now, and they'd just find him weird anyway. Russell looked out the window. The city skyline was growing shades of purples and blues that reminded him of his bruises, so he dropped his gaze back to his hands. This was boring. Not only was this place boring, but his parents would be mad at him again for being here. Russell wished the doctor from earlier hadn't called them. He wished he hadn't been brought to the hospital. He wished he hadn't had to stay.

There was a soft knock on the door and he lifted his head towards the entrance, and the door opened to reveal Mireille standing there.

"G-Good evening, Russell..."

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She was smiling, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes and Russell felt a trickle of unease trail down his back. Mireille lifted the chair off the ground and put it next to his bed, and then sat in it.

"Y-You're alone... Where are y-your friends?"

Russell shrugged.

She laughed softly. "Oh, yes, of course. Y-You must have been sleeping."

Her smile lessened. She was staring at him, but she looked like she was thinking. Russell just waited for her to speak again.

"Er... So, um. That man is your friend too? I didn't know y-you had more than one friend."

Russell said it was because he hadn't thought it mattered. What would it have changed for her if she'd known?

She nodded as if he'd said something very reasonable. "Y-Yes, you're right. It's none of my business...."

Mireille fell silent then. Her green gaze dropped to the bedsheets and she was silent for a long while.

"R-Russell, there's something I need your help with... I... I can't do it by myself. I've tried already, but..."

She trailed off. Her loose salmon-pink hair was untidy again, a few strands covering her forehead when they were usually neatly tucked away. Her badge was askew and Russell wondered when was the last time he'd seen it pinned straight like it was before. Mireille's eyes weren't looking at anything in particular and he felt another pang of unease, this one raking down his spine like a long sharp nail. He didn't know why, but he wanted her to go away. She'd been nice to him and helped him for a long time, but these days it felt like Mireille wasn't the same person. Then her gaze focused again and she looked up at him with a little smile.

"Er... Well, can y-you join me on the roof tomorrow at 6PM? I'll tell y-you how to reach it."

Russell asked what they were going to do.

Mireille's smile was frozen on her face. It didn't look like she smiled because she wanted to anymore.

"I-I told you... I just need help with s-something. Won't you do it for me? Y-You can think of it as a favour."

She'd done him a lot of those in the past, so Russell accepted. It was only fair that he helped her after all the cold compresses, the painkillers, the slings and medicine. Mireille smiled at him when she heard his answer and took him by the hand to gently squeeze his fingers.

"G-Good. Thank you, Russell. Y-You're a nice boy."

Russell looked for the happy gleam in that gaze which he'd grown to appreciate over the months, but it wasn't there. Her green eyes were like a dead fish's. Then she let go of his hand and took out a piece of paper from her pocket and a red pen. She scribbled instructions on it while she explained the way up to the roof, and when she was done, she handed it to Russell and got up from the chair.

"I-I'll see you tomorrow, then, Russell. G-Good night."

And she left.

A different nurse came to give him his medicine later and he asked her if he could read a book. She told him to go get one in the playroom, which was what he did. His legs felt wobbly and his muscles ached, but he managed to grab an interesting one before making the trip back. He only crossed paths with a blonde little girl wearing a blue dress who looked to be half his age. She smiled at him, but he didn't smile back. Her face fell and she quickly walked away from him, and he remembered how easily he'd smiled to the silver-haired girl at the aquarium long ago. Russell wondered where that version of him had gone. That night, he managed to get to the half of the story before sleep pulled him under again.

The doctor came to visit him in the morning and asked him how he felt. Russell didn't feel like much. Doctor Trace's lips thinned, and he started to examine him like the day before. Russell's lungs had stopped making the strange wheezing sound, but he still felt very tired. The doctor put away his stethoscope when he was done, and then asked to see the bruises again. Russell complied. Doctor Trace then sat down in the same chair Mireille had used the day before, but left a lot more distance between them.

"All right, Russell. I'm going to ask you some questions now, and you have to be honest with me, okay?"

Russell nodded. The doctor smiled approvingly.

"Very good. My first question is simple: did all your bruises happen when you tripped?"

Russell stared at him silently.

"I'll take your silence for a no. The following question is this: did you really trip and fall?"

When Russell still didn't answer, the doctor's eyes softened and he leaned forward a little bit.

"I know this kind of talk isn't easy. Maybe it's better if I tell you my theory, and you can tell me if I'm right or wrong."

Russell shrugged, but Doctor Trace wasn't swayed by his apathy.

"I think you didn't tell me the truth yesterday. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not calling you a liar, and I'm sure you had very good reason to say that you tripped." The doctor looked serious. "But I think you didn't hurt yourself, because your bruises aren't bruises that happen when you trip. They look like what happens when someone hits you."

Russell looked away.

"Did someone hit you, Russell?"

He let a moment of silence hang between them.

"I just want to help. I can't do anything if you don't tell me."

Without looking up, Russell said he didn't want to.

"Why?"

Russell didn't speak. If he told this doctor anything, all he would get in exchange would be more trouble with his dad. It had happened before, when he'd gone to the hospital for his broken ribs; the doctors had bought his parents' excuse that he'd fallen in the playground, but they'd told them to be more careful. Dad had said Russell had done it on purpose to go the hospital so he would tell the doctors about what had happened and make him go to jail. The punishment had really hurt when he'd come back home, and Russell hadn't been able to go to school for a whole week after that. Doctor Trace looked nice, but Russell knew how these things worked now and he wouldn't be fooled again. If he told Doctor Trace what had really happened, the doctor would confront his dad about it, and then it would really be dangerous for Russell. Dad would never forgive him for it.

"Russell, I really do just want to help," insisted the doctor.

Russell shook his head. No one had helped him up until now, and Russell didn't see why this would change after so long. He needed to keep his head down, it was all he could do to lessen his dad's anger. Doctor Trace patiently nodded.

"All right, Russell. I understand that you don't want to talk about this today, but we'll try again tomorrow. I know it's difficult staying at the hospital, but you don't have to be afraid of me. You can trust me."

Russell didn't look at him.

"At any rate, did anyone explain how visits worked here?"

Russell shook his head.

"Any member of your family who is of age can visit you from 2PM to 8PM. If a minor wants to see you, they have to come accompanied by an adult."

Russell looked up at the doctor and asked if that meant he couldn't see his friends.

Doctor Trace looked apologetic. "We only allow family here."

Russell nodded and turned his attention back to his bedsheets.

"Do you have any questions about your stay?"

Russell shook his head.

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have a nice day, Russell."

The doctor got up and his footsteps retreated to the door, and suddenly Russell was alone again. He picked up his book and started reading.

At noon, one of the ward's caregivers came to tell him it was time to go eat with the others in the common room. Russell went. It was noisy and his head started hurting very soon. The food was tasteless because of his stuffy nose, and he didn't like it when one of the kids bumped his elbow while he ate. It looked like everyone else knew each other since he'd only come in the ward last evening, and most of them talked and laughed together. There were two kids who didn't talk to anyone, like him, but one looked like it was because he was too sick to speak, and the other was hunched over and didn't look up from his plate. Russell kept quiet too. He wished Chris was there. He didn't feel like talking to anybody else, and certainly not to people he didn't know. One of the caregivers asked him if he was okay while he put away his cutlery, and he nodded. She told him to go play with the others. Russell said yes, but then went back to his room and closed the door behind him so he could continue reading in peace.

Russell didn't have the time, so he had to go check the clock in the hallway from time to time. He didn't want to miss his meeting on the roof with Mireille. He had no idea what kind of favour she wanted from him and he didn't give it too much thought. It was strange that she wanted him to go up to the roof, since that wasn't a place where patients were allowed to go, but she'd told him the way would be free when he went up there.

He hadn't checked the clock in a while, so Russell got out of bed and put on his shoes. The air was a bit cold in his room and his limbs still felt heavy, but he didn't have cotton in his head anymore. He went to peek around the doorway and caught the time. It was almost 6PM. Russell stepped back inside, picked up his jacket from the chair to put it on, and pulled down the sleeves so it would hide the itchy white bracelet around his wrist that stated his name and date of birth. He walked back to the doorway and saw a nurse in front of one of the other rooms, but she had her back turned to him and was busy writing something on her computer with two fingers. Russell slipped out the other way and quietly joined the next corridor. There were signs that pointed to different sectors of the pediatrics wards, so he followed the one that guided him towards the main hall. He headed for the elevator and climbed in with the crowd, suddenly smothered by the adults around him. It didn't feel good.

When it finally reached the last floor, the only ones left were him and a man with purple hair. The man looked up from his book when Russell stepped out and said : "Oh, shoot."

The doors closed and Russell found himself alone on the landing, and he assumed the man with purple hair had missed his floor without realizing it. He wondered why someone would decide to read a book in an elevator, and walked over to the double doors that were next to the elevator just as Mireille had instructed him to do. The air in the staircase was uncomfortably warm and stifling, and reeked of old cigarette. Russell walked up the stairs with stilted legs. He didn't run, but his breath was short and he quickly tired from climbing. He finally made it out of the stairs and looked for the exit sign. The hallways all looked the same, and there was no one around. After several false turns, he found the staircase to the roof and climbed up the last flight, reaching an ominous dark grey door. It was dark on the landing, and the cold light of day seeped through the crack between the metal door and the cement floor. There were chains draped over the ramp, and a handbag beneath them. It was Mireille's handbag. Russell put his hand on the door's cold handle and pushed it forward, and the heavy door squeaked opened with slight resistance. A gust of wind buffeted his jacket and he almost backed down from the cold, but then he saw a shape standing at the end of the roof.

Salmon-colored hair twisted and turned wildly in the wind.

Russell stepped out onto the roof. There were empty hanging lines scattered about, but nothing else. A wire fence ran around the roof's ledge, but it was badly torn in some spots. She was standing in one of those spots. It was just him and Mireille. He approached her and stopped a few feet away, facing her and her tear-soaked cheeks. Russell had never seen Mireille with this kind of distorted face before. His hands felt cold, and his fingers numbly searched his pocket for the piece of paper with the red ink. He finally felt it brush against his fingertips and he took it out to show it to her, saying he'd followed her instructions. He asked why she needed help from him.

She wiped her tears with her hand and looked at him. Her reddened gaze pinned him where he stood. "Russell," she said in a shaky voice, and he felt a shiver across his back. He didn't know what was in her eyes, but he didn't like it. Mireille didn't look like Mireille anymore.
"I-I want to die," she told him. "I can't live like this anymore!"

Russell asked her why she was crying.

"I want to die!" the nurse cried desperately. "I want to die, but I can't do it!"

Tears were streaming down her face, and her sobbing voice was tossed around by the wind. Her green eyes that had grown dimmer and dimmer every time Russell came to the hospital were bright again, but not with light. They shone with a dangerous emotion, wild and swimming with tears, rimmed in ugly visceral red. It was like the beast had grown stronger since the last time. His heart was beating fast in his chest.

Why was she crying?

"Please, Russell... It hurts too much... I-I can't do it anymore," she sobbed.

Russell heard the plea in her voice amidst the whistling of the wind, and he recognized it. It was the ugly, dirty thing that had slipped into Kantera's voice back at the lacquered, red-walled shop. He felt something cold and slimy pile up in his belly. Her torn gaze pierced through his chest and he found it hard to breathe.

"Kill me!" she suddenly screamed. "Kill me, Russell!"

She turned his back to him, and the wire fence jangled as she clinged onto it. Her white gown flapped around her. Beyond her, there was nothing. Just an emptiness twenty-three floors down and nothing to hold on to. The skin on her knuckles was so pale that they looked like bone as she gripped the wire. She was shaking. How long had she been there?

Why was she crying?

"Russell... Russell, please help me. I c-can't do it alone."

Russell felt his body trembling. He didn't know why that was. Something was burning his heart, and it hurt. It was eating him alive, and he felt like he would die if he didn't do anything. Russell took a step forward.

"Kill me!" she screamed again, and her voice trembled in a violent shiver. "Kill me...!"

He took another step forward, reaching out for her.
She wanted to die. Just like Kantera. She'd been kind to him, and helped him. Every pill, every bandage, every ice pack... Had they been for this, all this time?
She was asking to die. Just like Kantera.
She was crying. Just like Kantera.
Every time. Every time. They all wanted the same thing from him. It was never about anything else. He took one last step forward, and his hand finally touched her back.
If he didn't do as she said, would she suffer, just like Kantera?

Mireille... Why?
Why do you all want death?
Why do you all cry?
...I don't understand.

"Kill me," she said, and her voice broke.

They stood there on the ledge together, at the end of the roof, at the end of the world.

There was no sound but Mireille's loud, messy breathing.

There were no colors but her salmon-colored hair thrown about by the wind.

Only the icy, tasteless air of winter surrounded them.

Russell was tired, so very tired. He was cold, so very cold. His heart ached and he didn't know why, he didn't understand this, and without warning his legs gave out.

Mireille let out a cry of surprise when he pulled her down with him, and they fell away from the ledge together.

They hit the ground in a tangled mass and Russell hung onto her with all his might, curled up on the roof's cold cement floor. They were alive, and cold, and shaking. There was only silence. And then Mireille started crying again, the harsh sobs that escaped her rocked both of their bodies.

No, Mireille.
I'm sorry, Mireille.

Russell felt her arms around him and she pulled him closer. He felt wetness sliding in the crook of his neck as she held onto him now, and they lied next to the ledge, but they had already fallen.

"I'm sorry," she wailed. "I'm s-so sorry, Russell!"

Russell didn't answer. His senses were completely overwhelmed by the cold and Mireille's crying and he didn't know what was happening. Why was she holding him so close? Why was she apologizing? Why was she crying?

Why are you crying?

Mireille calmed down after a while, and she pulled away from Russell, finally letting him go. He simply watched as she moved away from the ledge and pulled him along with her, and didn't move when she got to her knees in front of him. He just felt cold and empty inside. She took his hands in hers and said : "I'm s-sorry, Russell. I... I really am."

Russell didn't answer. He just stared at her pale face, and her swollen, puffy eyes. He didn't see the monster behind her green eyes anymore.

"We should... um... go back inside."

Russell couldn't feel his hands. He couldn't feel his feet. There was buzzing in his head and it wouldn't stop.

"Ah... Can you s-stand up?" she asked him.

Russell didn't answer. He watched her lips tighten in a thin line.

"... I-I'll help you."

She got to her feet in a few wobbly attempts and held out a hand to him. He looked down at it. All of his thoughts were gone. His head was empty. The hand disappeared, and Mireille's face took its place.

"Russell?"

He blinked. She wasn't crying anymore. He still didn't know why she had. There was a moment of silence, and her face shifted into a different expression.

"Russell... I-I'm sorry that I scared you like that. I-It won't happen again, I p-promise. I'll never ask y-you anything like that ever again. So please, answer me. S-Say something, anything will do."

Russell slowly turned his head to the ledge, and the spot where the wire fence was ripped. Mireille could have fallen. He could have pushed her. An image appeared in his mind, of bright strands of hair flowing around her pale face and wide green eyes, her gown billowing as she fell down the twenty-three floors of the hospital. He owed her at least that, but he hadn't wanted to. He'd thought of Kantera and he hadn't wanted to. Now she was next to him. He felt her hand on his shoulder, and a light shake.

"Russell, look at m-me."

But he stared at the emptiness beyond the ledge. Maybe he could've fallen with her. Suddenly, he felt her rope her arms around him and lift him up.

"Come on... Stand up with me, o-okay? I-I'll carry you, if you can't walk, I'm stronger than I l-look."

He felt the soles of his feet touch the ground and Mireille let go of him, but as soon as he tried taking a step his knees buckled again. She quickly grabbed him when it was clear he wasn't going to stand on his own.

"L-Let me help," she said in his ear.

She made him put his arms around her neck and slipped her arms beneath him, and when she scooped him up, his legs instinctively wrapped around her waist. She started walking then, and even if he was a bit too tall for her to carry, she didn't find it difficult.

"Y-You're very light for your age," she told him.

Russell watched the ledge recede as Mireille carried him away.

"How much do y-you weigh?"

He heard the door open and they stepped onto the landing. Mireille bent down with a light grunt to pick up the handbag, and then they started walking down the stairs.

"Do y-you eat enough?" she continued.

Mireille's chest was warm, and even if her voice was still thick and she sometimes hiccuped, it felt nice to listen to her. It was nice to be carried like this. His eyes followed the ground unrolling beneath Mireille's feet. It was a hypnotizing sight.

"Listen, I know y-you don't like to talk very much, but... Could you say something? E-Even just one word is fine."

Russell's eyelids were growing heavy. His mind was riding along the waves of her voice, and his head was filling up with cotton again. He was warmer now, and it made him drowsy.

"I-I know I did something bad to you, Russell... I-I don't even know if... If y-you understood that," Mireille said in his ear, and he didn't listen. He was only hearing her.

"D-Did you?"

Russell didn't answer. His eyes were closed.

Chapter Text

"Okay, R-Russell. We're here."

Russell felt something soft beneath the palms of his hands as he was lowered onto a flat, dipping surface. He blinked. The shape he'd been leaning against had been warm and now it was gone. There were white walls all around him and Mireille was standing in front of him. She crouched a bit so that he could look into her red-rimmed eyes. For a moment they just gazed at each other.

"I... I'm sorry I did what I did.
But y-you have to keep quiet about what happened, okay?
Because if y-you tell then I won't be able to help you anymore,
because I-I'd get in trouble, so you absolutely c-can't say anything about it.
And even if y-you do, no one will believe you anyway.
So there's no point s-saying anything, okay?"

She sounded strange. She talked quickly, like she was scared, and her green eyes were wide and serious. Russell asked why she'd been crying.

Her eyes went just a little wider. "Um."

Mireille looked like she was thinking for a bit, and then she reached over to her bag.

"If I tell y-you, you'll k-keep quiet, right?"

Russell said yes. He didn't really understand why it was so important to her but he could do that, at least, since he hadn't managed to do the other thing. Pushing her over the edge of the roof. Besides, keeping quiet was something he did every day already.

"G-Good boy, Russell."

She rummaged in the bag and pulled out the same notebook Russell had seen peeking out before.

"Y-You'll have to read quickly, though, I c-can't stay for long."

Mireille flipped through the pages and stopped somewhere near the end, and then she just gazed at it emptily. Suddenly her lips twisted into a little grin and she let out a nervous giggle.

"Oh, R-Russell. It's s-so stupid when I look at it."

Russell didn't say anything.

She continued staring and the giggle happened again. And then it devolved into choked laughter and she pressed the notebook to her face, her shoulders shaking, her grin widening into something ugly and cracked. Her chin was all wrinkled up and tears started dripping down from her face again. Russell didn't know what he was supposed to do.

"It's s-s.... s-so s-stupid," she repeated in a tremulous voice.

Russell just stared. Everything still felt so distant.

Eventually Mireille stopped crying and she shoved the notebook with the wet pages and the red ink in the boy's lap, wiping her eyes and nose with her arms. She didn't say anything, but pointed at the spot she wanted him to read. It was a paragraph among many others. Russell understood that this was a diary. It was Mireille's diary. The pretty red calligraphy was a bit jagged in spots.

When you speak with your wife, you look to be very relaxed.
Why is that? She's only come to visit you a few times since you were hospitalized.
Why is it that I'll never be able to beat such a woman? It's regrettable...
I don't remember when, but once you told me.

"I'm envious of your health."

You and I are both jealous people. People with green eyes.

Mireille took it back and flipped it to another page. This time the text was short, the rest of the white surface empty.

I want to be by your side always. Not as patient and nurse... Nothing to do with that. I love you, just as a person.
If I could be by your side, I would be as obedient as a servant, and offer everything to you.

The next page she showed him was different. The ink swooped and swelled in erratic movements.

When I see you suffering, I should be very sad. But for some reason, I laughed.
Because if I didn't call for the doctor, and didn't give you this medicine, then I alone... I alone could be there in your final moments. That's what I realized.

Another new entry. The red words were scrawled in a disorderly way and there were places where the ink was blurred.

In a world without you, I don't have any desire to live.

I'm glad that I met you.

I'll make this diary I wrote with you into my final message, and say goodbye.

Then Mireille closed it and took it out of Russell's hands.

"S-So you see, that's why.
Y-you wouldn't understand, Russell, you're y-young."

The notebook disappeared back inside the bag, and then her hands were on his shoulders. Russell didn't resist the push. He just stared at the ceiling as she pulled the sheets over his body.

"I, um, think you should s-sleep now.
Don't f-forget your promise, okay?
It's a s-secret.
Good-bye, Russell."

And then she was gone. It was dark outside. Russell didn't know what time it was but he felt tired. It was strange, but nothing felt quite real, like he was in another nightmare with Poppy but there was no Poppy. Russell didn't feel anything about the diary. He hadn't even said good-bye back. None of it really mattered, anyway, because this was probably a dream. Russell closed his eyes.

Russell was woken up by a firm hand on his shoulder. He blinked and looked up at the big shape above him and recognized the doctor.

"Good evening, Russell.
I'm here to see you because the nurse said you were unwell."

Russell pushed himself up to a sitting position and Doctor Trace stepped back to give him some space. Russell looked around a bit confused, eyesight still slightly blurry and muscles aching. Had the dream been real? He'd been on the roof with Mireille, and it had been very cold, and everything had gone numb. Mireille had been crying. Russell hadn't helped her go through with what she wanted.

Hot and cold suddenly flashed through his body when he remembered what had happened the last time he'd refused to kill someone and he looked up at the doctor, who'd been staring at him quietly while he waited for Russell to gather his thoughts. What if Mireille had... Was she all right?

"Who?" asked Doctor Trace with a furrowed brow.

Russell told him.

"A nurse who came to see you called Mireille Nif..." Doctor Trace repeated thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, Russell, there are a lot of nurses in this hospital and I don't think this Mireille works in the pediatrics ward."

Russell realized maybe he shouldn't have given the name. What if Mireille got in trouble because of him like she'd said? But if Doctor Trace wasn't reacting to her name or to Russell asking after a certain nurse, then Mireille probably hadn't done anything dangerous.

"Russell... Did something happen?" gently asked the doctor as he sat down across from him.
"The nurses say you were getting better today but you didn't come for supper and when they came to find you, you wouldn't wake up.
You didn't take any new medicine today, did you?"

Russell shook his head. There were only the anti-inflammatory pills for his lungs. The bruises hadn't been bad enough for him to ask for painkillers.

"You seem worried about this Mireille.
Did something happen with her, then?"

Worried? No, Russell wasn't worried. He just didn't want to cause trouble because then it would attract attention, and he couldn't attract attention because he'd already attracted too much. Russell remembered what she'd shown him in the diary and felt something inside of him like a burning cramp. Had she asked him to kill her just because she had problems in her love life? Russell knew grown-ups always had that kind of problem and that they reacted weirdly sometimes, but she'd asked him to kill her. Just like Kantera had. Was it for the same reason that she'd always helped him? Just to negociate her death? The burning spread in Russell's blood. Why did they do this kind of thing? Why was it always him? Why did they help him only to leave him behind?

Mireille had said she wouldn't help him anymore if he said anything, but that wasn't why Russell would keep quiet. He didn't care if she stopped helping. He didn't want her help if it was only a means to bargain for murder. Russell knew she was right when she said no one would believe him and he didn't even want to speak about what had happened on the roof. He didn't want to see her ever again. He wouldn't be worried about her, ever. She was a bad thing. She'd been scary for a while even before this had happened. At least Kantera had always been gentle. But... Kantera was dead. Doctor Trace shifted and laid a hand on the covers just beside Russell's knee, the look in his eyes shifting.

"Hey, it's okay, calm down.
What's wrong?"

Russell realized he was breathing hard all of a sudden. He was wheezing a little bit. Why? He was sitting and not moving at all. Russell stopped himself from taking in so much air and tried to force his tense muscles to loosen before the doctor asked more questions. His eyes looked so similar to Tabasa's now, and Russell wondered what it could mean.

When Russell calmed down but kept silent, Doctor Trace said:
"Talk to me, Russell.
What happened?"

But Russell said nothing. Nothing at all. He just looked down at the adult's hand on the bed and moved his leg away. Doctor Trace noticed this and removed his arm, but his face looked darker somehow. Maybe he was angry. Dad would be angry. So Russell lied that it had probably been a dream, so he'd get the doctor off his back. The man didn't look very convinced and the cloud was still hanging over his face.

"All right."

He paused.

"Look, Russell, I'm also here to continue our talk from earlier.
I can tell that you were hit. You can't hide that kind of thing from a doctor.
Has this been going on for a long time?"

Russell looked down at his fingers clutching the clean sheets and stayed resolutely silent. A moment passed by and when it was clear he wouldn't answer, the doctor asked something else.

"Have you been hurt in any other way?"

Russell glanced at him, puzzled. The doctor seemed to understand why and he paused again, his lips pressing together thoughtfully.

"Has anyone done something to you that caused you pain which wasn't hitting?"

Russell thought. It had always been hitting. He shook his head no.

"What about uncomfortable?
Has anyone ever touched you in ways that caused you discomfort, that you felt was wrong?"

Russell instantly remembered the stranger with the candy, and then he also remembered the other times he'd been grabbed in ways he didn't like to think about. The animals at night, peering at him, that he'd woken up to a handful of times. Mom throwing things at him for it. She never hit him with her hand or foot because she didn't want to touch him. Russell felt like a fist was clenched around his heart, so he curled up on himself and turned his back on the doctor.

"Russell?"

Russell wanted him to go away. He wanted to sleep more. He wanted to leave this place and pretend he'd never come here at all. His stomach was tying itself up in a knot now when he thought of how things would go when he'd see Dad again. Russell didn't understand all these feelings inside of him. He was scared, he wanted them to leave him alone. He wanted everything to leave him alone.

"Please, tell me who hurt you."

Doctor Trace's voice was quiet and patient, and his voice had that soothing tone that Tabasa sometimes used and it made no sense. Hadn't he been angry just now?

Russell said no, go away.

"I'm worried for you. Do you understand?
Even if you won't tell me, you look like you're in a dangerous situation."

Russell didn't care. He wanted all of this to just be over so he could return to his usual life. Doctor Trace was so silent for several minutes that Russell started wondering if he simply hadn't heard the man leave, but then there was a sigh.

"All right, Russell. Listen... There's something I'm going to do.
Because your situation is suspicious, I have to file a report about it.
It's going to be sent to a person who will look into it."

Russell turned around so fast that he nearly slipped off his bed, but he quickly caught himself and frantically shook his head. No, that would make things much worse. Dad would be so mad at him if he knew that the doctor had guessed that something was going on.

"Calm down, calm down, Russell."

Doctor Trace lifted both of his hands.

"It's my job, I have to do this.
But if you tell me what's been going on exactly then I can protect you.
I can make sure you don't go back to the place you're getting hurt in."

Russell stilled. Maybe this was a trick. What would the doctor even say to this person who would look into it? Russell only had a few bruises. Doctor Trace didn't really know for sure who was responsible. Maybe his parents would be alerted but that didn't mean they'd end up in jail like his Dad always said. It would be okay as long as Russell didn't say anything more. And even if he did tell the doctor everything, no one could really protect him. Because then Russell would be alone and he'd probably get sent to his aunt, his aunt who didn't like him and who'd been hurting him too.

So Russell stared at Doctor Trace and slowly laid back down without saying a single word.

The doctor gazed back at him. Then he nodded, and stood up.

"Okay, Russell. I'm going to go do as I said.
Tomorrow will be the day of your discharge, I'll give you an Ibuprofen prescription.
I'm going to call your family later so that they can come pick you up."

Russell looked away and pulled on his pillow to get into a more comfortable position. He didn't watch the doctor leave. He shut his eyes and tried to ignore all the turmoil inside of him.

Dad only came in the afternoon instead of in the morning like he'd initially told Doctor Trace, who'd tried to get Russell to talk one last time before he left. Russell was tired of his insistence and ignored him completely until the doctor finally changed the subject. The man told him that it was good to be cautious but that he didn't have to be so wary of medical professionals, and that if one day he was ready to get out of his current lifestyle, he could come here to seek help. Russell nodded blandly during Doctor Trace's monologue and just hoped the doctor would be gone by the time his dad showed up.

Unfortunately for Russell it was apparently protocol for the doctor to see his patients' parents before they were discharged, and so when his dad showed up he was led into an office by Doctor Trace with Russell at his side. Russell kept his head bowed so he wouldn't have to see the look in his father's eyes. Dad didn't smell as strongly as usual so maybe he'd cleaned up before coming here, so that people wouldn't think he was the one who'd put the bruises on Russell's skin. Doctor Trace's green eyes were keen, however, and he kept scrutinizing both the father and the son.

Russell didn't listen to what the adults were saying. Occasionally Doctor Trace tried to solicit him and Russell only gave short answers so that he wouldn't be involved in the conversation for longer than necessary, so that his dad wouldn't look at him. Things were going smoothly until Doctor Trace finally mentioned the report. Russell kept his stare carefully trained on the edge of the desk and tried not to pay attention to the way his father's body tensed up next to him. Tried not to think of the blows he would receive later. Tried to stay completely still to attract as little attention as possible.

"It's a precaution we have to take, you understand," cordially said Doctor Trace.

"Of course," answered Dad.

His voice sounded stern but it could probably pass off as him being a stressed, concerned parent. Some adults reacted that way when they were worried. Their faces became like stone.

Doctor Trace ended their discussion by handing over the prescription pills, and when they left he shook hands with Dad and then tried to do the same with Russell. Russell walked faster and pretended not to see. If Dad saw him acting friendly with the doctor then it would make things worse. Russell followed his father out of the hospital and they hadn't said a single word by the time they reached the car.

"Get in," gruffly said Dad, and he opened the door to the back seat and shoved Russell inside.

The boy tripped and hastily retrieved his leg before the door closed so violently that it rocked the car, and then his father climbed in the driver's seat and started the engine. Neither of them were wearing seatbelts. Russell quickly pulled his down and buckled it. The stench of the car hit him hard after spending two days in the sanitized hospital. He really was going home. It was going to hurt.

Chapter Text

"Oh, no," said Chris when he opened the door. Then he turned around and yelled: "Mom!"

Russell stumbled inside holding his injured head in one hand and crashed into the kitchen isle, and then his legs gave out beneath him. He soundlessly slipped to the ground, dizzy and tired. The pain stole his breath away. He just wanted to stay down here and never walk again.

"Shit, shit shit shit," panicked Chris next to him.

Russell felt arms loop around his narrow chest and pull him up.

"Russell, man, what the hell happened to you?"

Russell told him in a single muttered word, and Chris cursed.

"Dammit, him again? Because of the hospital?"

Russell nodded and winced when the motion made his head throb. It had been a long time since his dad had messed him up this badly, and it had been for the exact same reason back then. The quick visit at the ER for the cut on his brow had been bad enough, but a full hospitalisation gave doctors more chances to access the truth. Russell's jaw ached from gritting his teeth so hard during the punishment. Chris helped him to one of the chairs at the table and Russell sat down just as Chris' mom appeared in the doorway of her bedroom.

"What happened?" she exclaimed with wide eyes.

"He got beat up, it looks really bad."

"Let me see."

Chris stepped aside and let his mother take his place. Russell reflexively shut his eyes and ducked when he saw the hand reaching for his face. The movement sent waves of pain through his body and he couldn't help the small sound that escaped him.

"Steady," she said in a soft voice. Her touch was gentle against his forehead. Russell opened his eyes again to look at her and saw that she didn't look disgusted by him at all. She clicked her tongue. "Nasty bruise there. Are you seeing or hearing funny?"

Russell said no. It just hurt. But his eye was swelling and he wondered if he would be blind there, like he often wondered ever since the bottle shard had cut him too close.

"No, don't worry, your eye will be fine. You know black eyes are nothing, you've seen Chris with plenty already." Chris' mom sounded like she was half-teasing, half-scolding, and Russell was in too much pain to make any sense of it. "Where else are you hurt, honey?"

That was another thing Russell didn't know how to feel about. The nicknames. Why was she so nice to him when he was disturbing her and would probably be using up her supplies again? Russell wouldn't have come here if Mireille hadn't acted like she had back at the hospital. He probably smelled bad, too, he'd thrown up when his dad had kicked him in the stomach. Russell focused on the question he'd just been asked and tried to figure out which part of his body hurt the most. Eventually he directed her to his back.

She walked around the chair to look at it and Russell twitched when he felt his shirt brush up against his tender skin but he didn't make a sound, and so he heard her sharp inhale loud and clear. Chris hurried around to see what had made his mother react that way.

"Holy shit, Russ, how the hell did you even get here?!"

His mom's voice was tight. "Chris, get a cloth and all the ice you can, quick."

He immediately took off. Russell felt the woman's hands slip beneath his armpits to help him get off the chair.

"Come here, Russell, it'll be better if you lie down."

Russell mumbled an apology for the bother as she dragged him there. It didn't look like she had any trouble carrying him, he probably wasn't heavy enough for that.

"No, no, don't apologize. It's okay to need help."

Chris reappeared just as Russell collapsed on the bed.

"I got it, Mom. Can I help?"

"Get the first-aid kit too and a glass of water, please, Chris."

Chris ran off again. Russell clenched at the unmade bedsheets in dread when Chris' mom pulled his T-shirt all the way up to his thin shoulders.

"I'm going to try not to make this worse for you, but it's probably going to hurt for a bit. Bear with me, okay?"

Russell nodded, cautious this time not to aggravate the pain in his head. Chris' mom gathered the supplies Chris had brought them and then moved out of his sight, above his back. Russell could still feel the lingering presence of his dad standing right there and blocked out the fear as always. Cool, slender fingers touched his hot skin and he twitched violently, but then forced himself to relax. She hummed approvingly and proceeded to settle something light across the welts on his back. It tingled in the spots it rubbed as she adjusted its position, but he barely felt it over the burn and throb of his bruises.

Then she lowered cold weights over the entire surface. At first he went rigid, but as the cold suffused the layers of his skin and numbed the pain he gradually relaxed. There was still the ache in his belly but it was nothing compared to the relief that came with the slow fading of the pain in his back, and Russell lowered his head to the sheets. He felt very tired. He belatedly noticed that Chris had returned at one point because his friend was sitting next to him and had settled a hand on his arm. Chris' mom reappeared in front of him, her long brown hair sweeping against the mattress as she leaned over to face him.

"Russell, honey, stay with me. Where else does it hurt?"

Russell mumbled into the sheets that he'd be all right, that it was mostly his back. He was familiar enough with the pain in the rest of his body to know that he'd probably recover like he had most of the other times. None of it felt as urgent as his back.

"Do you want painkillers? I have some right here."

Russell cautiously reached for his pocket to pull out the box of Ibuprofen he'd made sure to hide on the way inside his house. He'd known his dad would've taken them away if he'd found them on him during the punishment, so he'd hidden them in the grass and hoped no one would steal them before his dad was done with him.

Chris' mom was surprised to see the box. "Oh, I didn't think you'd have any medicine."

"They're from the hospital, right?" said Chris.

"The hospital?" she echoed, and glanced over at Russell's back again. "Maybe we should bring you back-"

Russell immediately refused and then winced when his body protested the sudden jerk he'd forced upon his muscles.

"Why?"

"Mom, drop it," grimly said Chris. "It's fine, we're already taking care of him."

"But he hit his head," insisted the woman.

"Yeah, I know, I could tell too. Just... He's got a thing with hospitals, remember?"

"Oh, right." She nodded but didn't look happy about it. "Well, I suppose for now... Help him take a pill."

Chris took the box from Russell's hand and quickly opened it, popping a pill out of its packaging and handing it to Russell with the glass of water. Meanwhile, Chris' mom rummaged in the first aid kit.

"We should have everything we need. I'll see if the swelling is bad when I remove the ice, just stay right there and rest for now."

Russell's head felt heavy and he hoped he wouldn't have to wait long for the medicine to have an effect.

"Do you need anything?" asked Chris.

Russell said he'd be fine and thanked them for their help. Chris' mom sighed next to him.

"You get in trouble often, don't you? I can help you like this sometimes, but... Russell, I'm sure you're aware. It's hard enough for me and Chris to look after ourselves already. I don't want us to get too involved."

"Mom!" exclaimed Chris indignantly. "How can you say that? Look at him!"

"I know! I know, Chris! But don't you realize I have enough to worry about for just the two of us?"

"Of course I do," spat Chris. "I'm not some dumbass kid! Mom, he's my friend, I can't just leave him alone!"

"A friend that keeps getting into trouble! Just how many fights has he been responsible for that you got dragged in?"

"Mom!"

"Don't mom me, Christopher! You know I'm right!"

"It's his dad!" yelled Chris.

Russell felt cold all of a sudden. Chris' mom wasn't supposed to know. She was an adult, she'd try to talk to Dad about it and then he would get scolded for letting someone know. Chris had promised never to tell anyone because of this, because they both knew what Russell's dad was capable of; because Chris knew that the reason Russell hadn't been able to go to school during the week that had followed the last time he'd been hospitalized was because he'd worn bruises like a necklace, and no one could know his dad had tried to kill him. Russell looked up at his friend. Chris slapped his hand over his mouth and his eyes widened.

"Shit, Russ. I'm so sorry," he murmured in a muffled voice.

Russell looked at his friend's mom. She didn't look that surprised. "Why did you both lie to me?" she quietly asked, all her loudness suddenly gone. "Russell, how long has this been going on?"

Russell didn't answer. His heart was beating fast in his chest.

"Mom, you absolutely can't go see his dad about it," quickly said Chris. "He's dangerous, and if he knows we told anybody he'll hurt Russell even more!"

His mom turned to him with a frown. "Chris... Did that man force you to stay silent about it?"

"No! No, he didn't, I just..." Chris' gaze flickered down to Russell and then back at his mom. "Russ said that it would be better if we didn't say anything, so..."

The woman turned to Russell. "How long have you both hidden this from everyone?"

Russell's thoughts were going too fast and he couldn't grab any of them. He felt like he couldn't breathe right. Was it too late? He couldn't kill her, she was Chris' mom. But she knew. Dad would know. And this time it was entirely Russell's fault because he'd told Chris in the first place, he'd told him everything, and it was his fault that Chris had been able to tell his mom just now. Dad would be so angry.

Russell shook his throbbing head and said he'd leave, he wouldn't cause any more trouble, he wouldn't come back so there was no need to say anything about it to anyone because he wouldn't disturb her again. He'd started moving but she grabbed his arm and forced him to stay.

"Russell, you are not going back outside in your state. If you're so afraid that your dad will know then I can keep quiet for now."

Russell stilled and warily stared at her.

"Mom?" said Chris uncertainly.

"I think I understand why you did it," she said quietly. "But I'm only willing to keep quiet as long as we look for a way to fix this. From the looks of it you've been keeping this to yourself for far too long. Russell, you can't stay with your parents when this is happening to you."

Russell had to.

"No, you don't. There are ways to get you out of there."

Russell shook his head. He had to stay. Chris' mom pressed her lips together, and then sighed.

"Look. Just sleep for now. We'll sort it out in the morning when you feel better."

She lightly petted Russell's shoulder and then got up from the bed, tugging on the bedsheets so they'd be free from beneath his body and she could cover him with them. She didn't look like she expected an answer from him.

"Come on, Chris. Let him rest."

Chris looked pale, his eyes were still a bit wide, and he stared at Russell like he didn't know what to say.

"Chris."

He looked up at his mom.

"Y... Yeah, I'm coming. I just need to say somethin' to him real quick."

His mom walked out, and Chris turned back to Russell.

"Russ, man, I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry, I swear I didn't mean to. We're gonna get through this, okay? Like we always do."

Russell pulled the sheets over his head and didn't say anything. Chris was quiet for a while.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated in a whisper, and then he left.

Russell stared into the darkness beneath the covers for a long time. He heard quiet sobbing and soft shushing at one point. Silverware hitting the surface of a table a while later, the ding of a microwave, the clatter of plates being set. He pretended to be asleep when he heard Chris' mom come in and ask him if he was hungry. She listened to his silence and then left. Tired from his ordeal at the hospital with Mireille, the sickness that still lingered in his lungs, and the violent beating he'd received at the hands of his father, Russell really did fall asleep in the end.

Chapter Text

There was light coming in through the crack of the door when Russell woke up, but outside the window the world was still dark. His back was hurting again, strips of soreness carved all across the expanse of his skin. The ice had melted into cool water and the condensation was still soaking the cloth that laid there. Russell squinted and tried to guess what time it was, and his gaze landed on the clock sitting on the bedside table. 12:36 AM. He'd only slept for a few hours and the painkiller's effect had already worn off.

Russell listened closely to the sounds beyond the door. He waited for a few minutes but heard nothing, and the light was dim, so maybe it was just that a lamp had been left turned on when the others had gone to sleep. Russell pushed himself up, his face twitching a bit when pain bolted through his stomach and back and head, but he kept going and slipped off the bed. Steadying himself with a hand against the mattress, Russell cautiously looked around for his shoes and found them next to the door. He didn't want to stay and talk to Chris' mom about Dad. Maybe if he didn't bother her again she'd just let it go. All the other adults had let it go, though none of them had been outright told the way Chris had slipped up.

Russell pushed the bedroom door open slightly wider and checked that no one was there, and was unpleasantly surprised by the sight of long brown locks of hair tumbling over the edge of the table. Chris' mom was slumped on the surface holding some kind of paper in her limp hand. Russell stayed still for a bit and when it was clear that the woman was truly asleep, he tiptoed unsteadily to the kitchen counter to lay down the cloth, ice packs, and plastic bags that used to contain ice cubes all in a neat tidy little pile. Then he found his jacket draped over one of the chairs adjacent to hers and slowly retrieved it, careful not to make the metal zipper clink against the hard wood. Russell gathered it close to his chest and walked up to the door, cautiously pushing the handle down. It wasn't locked. Maybe both Chris and his mom had forgotten because they'd been too taken by everything that had happened tonight. It was lucky for Russell. The boy pulled the door open and it squeaked. Russell stilled. He'd forgotten the door made noise.

"Mmh..."

Chris' mom stirred and lifted her head out of the crook of her elbow, and then she peered at him with a little frown.

"... Russell? Where are you going?"

Russell said thank you but he had to go. Her brown eyes became more alert.

"Hey now, you're not going anywhere. I need to check the swelling and you're not rested."

Russell only hesitated for a single second, and then he took off and slammed the door shut. It hurt, and he'd probably trip, but he kept running and went faster when he heard the door open again.

"Russell! Come back!"

His back hurt so bad that Russell felt tears automatically well in his eyes, but they didn't mean anything. It was just how his body reacted when some spots were in too much pain. Russell didn't even look back at the woman calling after him. He had a head start so by the time his friend woke up fully and understood what was happening, Russell was already out of the Puddle Apartments and hurrying down one of the many small alleys that surrounded them.

Russell was quickly out of breath, his chest rattling with the lingering bronchitis, his back on fire. He slowed down to a walk and wiped the cold tears he'd let run down his face in his urge to escape. He didn't like how drying tears felt, the salt itchy on his skin. It was uncomfortable. Russell often wished pain wasn't all it took to make him cry because it was annoying and most of the time it only made his dad angrier. Every step jostled his injuries, the impact of his soles on the pavement travelling all the way up to the top of his skull no matter how hard he tried to soften the fall of his feet. Russell figured he'd probably be fine once he laid down again. He knew it wasn't useful to but he wished Chris hadn't said anything. No, he wished he hadn't ever said anything. It was his fault. He wouldn't have been in this mess if Chris hadn't known. Russell walked down the empty dark street feeling a bit wretched, like he was just a mass of bumps and cuts and bruises rolling along. Occasionally a car quickly rumbled by. He saw one cat turn the corner of a building, then crossed an alley where there were slumped shapes that whispered and giggled in the shadows, then a group of young grown-ups smoking and drinking beer.

"If it ain't the Seager boy!" exclaimed a familiar voice behind him, a little bit off to his right.

Russell glanced over his shoulder and saw a police patrol car drift closer. Officer Bombers was waving her hand through the still rolling down window, a smile on her face. Russell felt two oddly contrasting things in that moment: a warmth enveloping his head and his stomach dropping, like mixed hot and cold water in a bowl. He ducked his head a bit to the side so his biggest bruise wouldn't be as obvious when the car stopped next to him, and the officer let her hand rest against the car.

"What're ya doin' out this late in these parts?"

It was strange, but Russell didn't know what to say. It had been a long time since he'd last seen her. He'd been trying to avoid her so that she wouldn't be the one to take him back home, after all, and now here they were. Russell knew he'd made a mistake but for some reason he didn't try to run again. He was tired. He wanted to talk to her. He'd missed her. Officer Bombers continued speaking, her smile turning into something a bit sterner and disapproving, but not angry at him.

"I know ya like actin' all darin' and all, with all yer funny business, but ya know this ain't a good spot even for bad boys like you to be in."

Of course he did. Russell stared at her. It was like his voice had dried up. She couldn't know this, but he wasn't outside in the streets simply because of his funny business or like usual when he just didn't want to go back home. He was hurting all over and he actually did want to go back home for once, because his dad was probably too busy snoring to be angry and that meant Russell would get to go lie down in his bed without any trouble. Russell was tired of hurting, and he was tired of everything that kept happening to him, and he just wanted to curl up and sleep.

"It's about time ya went home. Right, climb on in, I'll take you back."

Russell hesitated. He couldn't accept, he'd been trying to avoid this very thing from happening ever since he'd chosen to stop hanging around so late. He couldn't let her take him back to see Dad. He wouldn't let the beautiful officer lady get sullied by those bloodshot eyes. Russell shook his head.

Officer Bombers looked a bit surprised, but then her easy smile returned to her lips. "Come on, boy. Ya think I can't tell you want nothin' to do with this street right now?"

Russell shook his head again and took a step back, and then Officer Bombers was opening the door. His body was too slow because of the pain and the cold. He wasn't fast enough to escape before she took hold of his shoulder. He tried not to flinch when her fingers touched the wounds on his back.

"Hey, hey now, no runnin' away. Yer comin' with me, Seager boy, ya know how it goes." Russell looked up at her and saw that she had her police face on, now. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, dang, that's a nasty shiner you've got. What happened to you?"

Russell quickly said a fight.

"Huh. Got right messed up, didn't ya? Come on, let's go."

He stared. Officer Bombers wasn't Chris' mom, she wouldn't be as easy to avoid. Russell would get into trouble if he went against her and his parents would probably be dragged into it, and his Dad would be mad. But maybe it was better to face his father's wrath than let Officer Bombers come close to the man. Russell knew Dad was not nice to Officer Bombers just because he wanted to be. Russell knew what kind of filth the man was made of. He knew that just as Officer Bombers was bright and beautiful and joyful, Dad was toxic and oozing and dirty. It was dangerous to let the two come close because one of them would surely end up defiled by the other.

Russell tried to take another step back but the woman caught him by the wrist, too, and he couldn't move anymore.

"Russell, why're ya bein' so difficult?" She didn't sound angry. Her words were spoken curiously, steadily. Russell pulled at his arm to get it back, but she didn't let go. "Is it that yer scared of goin' back?"

Russell stilled, his gaze flying up to her face. No, he couldn't let her believe that. There was already one adult who knew how bad it was at home. Officer Bombers was with the police, maybe she'd send Dad to jail and then Mom would hate him even more. And if Dad wasn't there anymore, what would Mom do? Would she leave? Or would she let one of those noisy, disgusting animals stay in Dad's place? Russell didn't want to know. It scared him to even think about how Mom would react.

So Russell said no, he wasn't scared of going back, and he would let Officer Bombers take him there, but she could just drop him off in front of his house. Without accompanying him all the way up to the door.

"Sure," she answered right away, like she didn't really care that he was making demands.

So Russell nodded and walked up to the car to get into the backseat as she did the same in the front. Officer Bombers watched him buckle his seatbelt in from the rearview mirror and then started the car. The tires quietly rolled away from the sidewalk and back onto the main road.

"So, Russell. Haven't seen each other in a while. How're things goin' for ya?"

Russell wished that the officer lady would just talk on and on like Tabasa did so that he'd simply have to listen and not answer. He was too tired to hold a conversation. He shrugged.

"Haven't heard about you showing up at the precinct so I guess ya didn't get into any trouble- well, until tonight. And I even thought you'd stopped hangin' around in the streets at night, but I guess that was wishful thinkin' on my part, huh?"

Her smile was light and teasing. Russell looked out the window. He wanted to close his eyes for a bit, but if he showed that he was tired then maybe she'd ask why. A simple fight wouldn't normally make him so exhausted. Officer Bombers wouldn't necessarily think he'd gotten beaten as badly as he had, but she'd notice something was up and Russell didn't want to have to deal with questioning.

"Y'know what, Russell? I gotta say I missed seein' yer sulky face."

They hit a bump on the road and Russell winced despite himself. The officer noticed.

"Hey, you okay back there? I know ya said ya just got out of a fight but yer really not lookin' too hot. And you're awful silent, too, even for you."

Russell said he was okay. Just a bit tired. His stomach hurt but it wasn't just the ache. It was like acid eating away at his insides the longer Officer Bombers scrutinized him in the mirror.

"Ya sure?"

He nodded. Her brown eyes lowered back to the road and didn't flicker in his direction again. It was silent in the car for a little while. His stomach hurt.

"Hey, Russell. Would you tell me if someone was hurtin' ya?"

The road hummed beneath the car's tires. Russell's ears buzzed.

"Would ya?"

Russell kept his mouth shut and his gaze cautiously trained on the back of the seat ahead of him, just like he had for the desk at the doctor's.

"I just..." She trailed off, then tried again. "I don't mean to put ya in a tight spot or anythin', boy.
But I've seen the place ya live in. I can help ya, if you'll just let me."

Russell said she could drop him off there, he'd walk the rest of the way. They weren't that far now.

"There's just one thing ya gotta do and it's to tell me what's been goin' on in that house. Just that, Russell. I can get you outta there."

Russell repeated the same thing. He wanted to get off the ride.

"I know yer scared, it's not easy but I promise I can do somethin'. Okay? Let me. Please tell me if yer dad's been hurtin' you."

Russell didn't like that she was so insistent. He told her, one last time, to allow him to step out of the car.

"Russell, stop askin' me that and listen to me, okay, just listen. Ya don't even have to- Russell?"

He'd unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Russell, stop whatever you're doin' and put yer seatbelt back on."

He knew the doors at the back of the police car would be condemned from the inside so there was no point in trying to open either of them. Officer Bombers cared for his safety so she probably wouldn't continue driving unless he was correctly seated and buckled in, which meant this was the only way he had of stopping the car himself. Russell wriggled down in the space between the driver's seat and the backseat so that she wouldn't be able to see him anymore. He hoped he was right.

"What are you doin'?!"

She finally hit the brakes and he felt the lurch of his body caused by deceleration, tried to ignore the way the upholstery rubbed painfully against his tender skin, the way his own legs compressed his sore gut. The car stopped, Officer Bombers' door opened, and then so did his.

"Russell, what the heck're you tryin' to pull?"

Russell said he didn't want to stay in the car anymore. He could walk. They weren't far from his house. He could walk, so she should let him walk. He didn't want to talk to her anymore. He didn't. He really didn't. Officer Bombers' face fell.

"Oh, dang, Russell. I'm... I'm sorry, I didn' mean to push ya like this, I..."

Russell just wanted her to let him leave. He didn't want to stay anymore. He'd be fine if she just let him go home by himself. The officer hesitated.

"... Ya promise yer gonna go home? No more wanderin' round?"

Russell nodded.

"And if..." She stopped, picked the sentence back up. "If somethin' happens at home, anything at all, I don't want you to go wherever ya go usually. You gotta come to the police, okay? You gotta get real help. I can't help ya if ya don't let me."

Russell nodded, agreeing quickly, whatever he needed to do so that she'd leave him alone. This was bad. It was bad that she was already so certain about what happened at home when Russell hadn't said anything to confirm it. He had to run again, far from these people who knew too much and would destroy everything. He needed to find a way to make things back to normal. He'd have to tell Dad about this even if he'd get punished for it, because Russell didn't want Dad to go to jail and for Mom to react however she'd react. Dad would find a way not to get caught if he knew about the police. He'd avoid them, and that meant he wouldn't try to catch Officer Bombers in his slimy net either. It was what Russell needed to do.

"Okay, well... Before ya go, Russell, can you show me where yer hurt?"

Russell's thoughts froze. He shook his head mechanically. He wasn't hurt anywhere else but the face.

"Come on, boy," she sighed. "It's pretty obvious."

Russell had to get out of here. He had to get out of here now. The boy coiled up and before she had the time to realize what he was about to do, he shoved her to the side and stumbled out of the car.

"Wait up!"

A hand grabbed his shoulder again and Russell lashed out, slapping the arm away, barely registering the shocked look in Officer Bombers' blue eyes through his- fear? anger? alarm? Whatever it was, it thrummed with urgency. He couldn't let her see. It was proof. It was what she needed to put Dad in jail. He couldn't let her see. Russell turned tail and ran faster, his breath harsher, the pain louder. He was running again, always running, always escaping. He remembered Tabasa telling him he didn't need to run. It didn't make sense. It was all Russell could do, all the time, because it would all be over the day he got caught.

"Russell!"

He tripped. His body slammed against the concrete and the air was knocked out of his lungs, but dazed as he was he automatically scrambled back to his knees and hands to keep fleeing. He had to escape her. Her footsteps were dangerously close.

"Russell, come back!"

Gasping, the aftershocks of the impact still echoing painfully through his bones and muscles, Russell pushed his body onwards. His heart was thumping fast and light in his chest like a rabbit's, his hands tingly and cold, short bursts of air searing his throat. The small alleys weren't far and he knew them well, and as soon as he reached the closest one he started weaving around the huge trash bins and scattered scraps. He knocked over whatever he could, leaving a trail of debris in his wake, and when he heard her voice grow distant he stopped making a trail and simply ran.

Chapter Text

Russell twisted and turned in front of the mirror as best as he could to try to catch a glance of the mess of his back. The swelling was bad and a stiffness had taken over his muscles overnight. His skin burned deep and Russell imagined the pain like a sticky red soreness that oozed all the way into his bones. He was starting to feel like he had before he'd been at the hospital, his head a little heavy, his thoughts a bit muddled. He wondered if things would be different right now if he'd let Chris' mom check the swelling like she'd meant to. Russell figured it was better not to pointlessly wonder about that kind of thing and pulled his shirt back down, gritting his teeth at the raw sensation of his clothes rubbing against his abused skin. He didn't make a single sound of pain, however. Russell hurried to fetch the box of pills he'd hidden along with his journal and swallowed one dry, thinking that maybe he just wasn't taking the medicine often enough and that was why he wasn't getting much better.

Russell found it a bit hard to breathe and it wasn't just because of the pain or because he was still sick. He felt like he'd been caught in a snare, a length of rope slowly coiling around his neck as more and more people figured him out. Chris' mom was onto him and wanted to act, and maybe she already had and Russell just didn't know it. Officer Bombers had been looking for proof, the other day, and the way he'd ran off had probably made her very suspicious. Russell didn't even know why he'd behaved that way. He didn't understand what had made his body react like it was being hunted when the person running after him had been the one lady he didn't mind being around. Officer Bombers wasn't actually dangerous the way his father was. Why had Russell behaved like he'd get hurt if she caught him? It didn't really matter. He was scared even now. He was scared that his dad would learn about everything that had happened the day before. Russell had told himself he'd need to warn his parents but his courage had deserted him once he'd reached home because he didn't want to get punished again so soon after the last time.

Russell didn't know what to do. He couldn't rely on Chris, not anymore. Maybe Chris had never really understood how dangerous letting others know could be, but Russell couldn't blame him for it. He'd made the same mistake after all. Now, not only were Chris' mom and Officer Bombers trying to find ways to change his situation which could lead to his father's imprisonment, but on top of that Russell was tired of realizing that the other adults he'd thought were kind to him had only ever been using him. He thought of Tabasa who'd brought him to the hospital, who he hadn't seen since, Tabasa who said he was worried whenever he saw that Russell had gotten hurt, Tabasa who'd brought him puzzles and pencils with animal patterns to write with, Tabasa who'd shared those delicious cereal bars with him. What did Tabasa want in exchange? He was still afraid of Russell so that meant he wasn't looking to die. So then what? What was he being so nice for?

Russell decided he'd been right the first time. Not seeing Tabasa would be for the best. There were many reasons why an adult would want his trust. Russell wouldn't allow a nice adult to try and use him again, he was tired of feeling that sick feeling in his belly every time he thought of how Mireille and Kantera had unveiled the goal behind their friendship. Russell wondered why he was feeling this way now when he hadn't felt anything the time Kantera had asked him to kill him with the big knife in his hand. Had Russell changed so much since then? Even Kantera himself had said back then that Russell wasn't the same anymore. The pieces of him had already started shifting at that time and they'd never stopped since.

Russell felt sick and he would've liked to sleep and stop thinking, but his father didn't agree with it. Dad had kicked him out of bed this morning already and yelled at him to get dressed so he'd leave the house. Russell finished dressing up and quietly stepped out of the bathroom, then all the way across the living room to the door. He made himself as discreet as he could, his movements quick and small when he grabbed his jacket and put on his shoes.

"Get out," grunted Dad from the couch.

Russell didn't have to be told twice. At least this time he hadn't been kicked out in the cold unprepared. His fingers curled around the thin cardboard box of pills in his pocket and he slowly started making his way down the street, his movements limited by his stiff body. He didn't want to go to school because then he'd have to see Chris and deal with all the other kids and he was too tired for that. He needed a place to hide, where no officer would find him and no adult would know about the state of his back. He wouldn't go to the zoo, wouldn't give Tabasa a reason to act nice anymore. The cold hurt his lungs. Russell realized there was only one place he could see himself going that was dry, indoors, and where he wouldn't be at risk of crossing paths with anyone he was trying to avoid. He hadn't been there in a very long time. He hadn't been there since before Kantera had shown him the newspaper. The thought of the gentle doctor made Russell's stomach turn, but he ignored it and changed the direction he was walking in. No one alive knew it was him that had tried to burn the Church. No one alive would be able to point fingers at him.

Russell hadn't been in that wide, beautiful, peaceful quiet place in a very long time. Hadn't seen the family that lived there for so long, even though it hadn't been that long at all. And once there Russell realized he didn't understand why he'd wanted to kill any of them. He'd hated them, yes, had felt burned and flayed and twisted in jealousy, but if he'd gone through with it he would've lost the mother he could at the very least dream of having. It was a bittersweet feeling that swelled like a bubble in his chest when he saw her because Russell knew he'd never have her; but she was there, alive, sweeping at the smooth church floor when he arrived. She was humming happily. Russell stood outside the wide doors for a while to watch her. His heart was sore and in that moment it somehow hurt more than any other part of his body. It was strange how identical things were to a time that seemed so far away.

Eventually Russell slipped inside and went to settle in one of the pews in the corner, far from everyone else, tucking himself in a small space where he'd be mostly out of view because it was hidden behind a column and an altar. He let his head rest against the cool wall. His forehead was getting warm again. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd last taken Ibuprofen but he supposed it had been long enough for it to start wearing off. Russell thumbed the box open, and the silver wafer crinkled in his thin, cold fingers as he dug a nail in one of the circles and lifted the pill into his mouth. He swallowed it dry and put everything back in his pocket.

Colors surrounded him when sunlight hit the stained glass above him, beautiful and vibrant, blurred shapes shining against the wooden pews and old cracked floor. Russell felt calm inside and he didn't know if it was because he was tired out or used to the quiet in this place. He didn't really care. He let his eyelids droop and didn't move for hours. He stayed in the same spot all day as the bright colorful shapes slowly followed the sun and slid across the surfaces inside the church. Russell dozed off a few times, and at one point he laid down on the bench. It wasn't comfortable but he was used to that. He only moved to take his medicine whenever he started feeling pain and fever again. He wondered how long he'd have to do it. How long until he got better.

A golden glint slipped beneath his eyelids and Russell's eyes fluttered open to squint up at the priest standing right in front of him. It was the light reflected by the cross hanging around his neck that had roused Russell. The boy felt tired and confused and a bit nauseous and he had to blink three times to make sense of what was happening.

"Hello, young man," the priest greeted him. "I couldn't help but notice you've been here all day. Are you lost, perhaps?"

Russell's brain ached dully and he cautiously shook his head. Had he hit it at some point during his sleep?
The priest's constant frown deepened. "You're looking pale. Ill, then?"

Russell pushed himself upright and rummaged in his pocket, producing the box of Ibuprofen, and took another pill in front of the man.

"I see," mused the priest. "Was there something you sought to find in this place? Some measure of relief? A swifter recovery?"

Russell shrugged. He just liked it here.

The priest scrutinized him and then his eyes widened. "Yes, of course! I know you!"

Russell was taken aback by his exclamation.

"Yes. Yes," repeated the priest to himself the first time, and then to Russell the second time. "You haven't come here in a while now. Did you lose faith? You have the eyes of a lost lamb, certainly."

Russell didn't know what to answer to that. He had bags beneath his eyes so he probably looked more of a raccoon than a lamb, if anything. He didn't get why the priest was saying this.

"My apologies," the latter suddenly said when Russell kept quiet. "Of course you wouldn't feel at ease talking with me in this way. Let me introduce myself, my name is Dogma. I am the priest of the Morning Glory Church. Over there is Cody, my sister, and Deirdra, our mother. What should we call you?"

Russell had known a lot of that already, but something shifted in his perception of these people. Now the man standing in front of him wasn't just the priest, he was Dogma. Russell told him his name.

"Well then, Russell, welcome to the Morning Glory Church. It was about time we introduced ourselves. Or would you perhaps rather have kept to yourself like you've always done before?"

Russell pointed out that it was a bit late for that since Dogma had already talked to him anyway. The priest reacted like a pigeon ruffling its feathers. "There's no need to be cheeky," he retorted. Russell was somehow reassured to see that he was just as stuffy as usual.

Russell shrugged. He hadn't meant it that way but he didn't feel like correcting himself. Dogma grabbed onto the cross hanging at his neck and it seemed to be an automatic gesture.

"It is my responsability to help lost ones such as yourself. Tell me, Russell. Tell me what it is that made you lose faith, so that I may help you strengthen the bond you've regained with our God by coming here today."

Russell said he didn't really know about faith to begin with, and repeated that he just liked it here. Dogma gazed at him and then a small smile softened his stern expression.

"Then never mind faith. It is her love which you perceive when you feel welcomed here. God loves you and will always love you, no matter how far or often you may stray from her."

Russell had heard Dogma preach this kind of thing during his sermons before and had always found the concept a bit strange. Why would this God love him? Russell had prayed often before, but in no manner did this justify earning any love. His own mother felt no such thing. Why would anyone else? Dogma waited for him to answer but Russell said nothing. The priest frowned again, lightly, and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a familiar voice.

"Dogma!" Both of them turned to the right to see Cody fast approaching. She was waving around some kind of carrot covered in roots and dirt. "Look, it's perfect!"

Dogma's expression soured instantly. "Cody, you are covering the church with dirt."

"But look!" She looked at Russell then like she'd just noticed him, and her demeanor changed from loud and excited to surprisingly cold. "Oh, I interrupted."

"Do you think?" Dogma tightly said.

"You look bored out of your mind," Cody observed, her maroon gaze studying Russell closely.

"Cody!" shouted her mother from the side of the church. "You're putting dirt everywhere! What did I say about bringing the vegetables inside?"

"See?" said Dogma, suddenly sounding smug and not very priest-like.

Cody narrowed her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue before running off with her weird carrot. "You only think you're smart!"

Dogma lifted his gaze to the skies and then seemed to remember that Russell was still right there. He quickly recovered, cleared his throat, blushed a bit and said: "You know how family goes."

Russell didn't really, but he nodded anyway. He stared over to the woman who'd resumed sweeping the ground along the pews. He'd heard her sweeping all day, a soft sound that was comforting in its rythmicity, and he understood better why the church was so pristine despite being so worn and old. Dogma must have noticed that he'd lost Russell's attention because he cleared his throat again.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you'd like to, Russell. However I advise you to head home before night comes."

Russell said he would. Dogma's nod was curt and satisfied.

"Do come back whenever you feel like it. God will always welcome you in her arms."

Russell listened to the swish of the priest's clothes as Dogma spun around. He didn't take his eyes away from the humming lady. The setting sun shone beautiful orange, pink and purple hues through the stained glass and the colors tumbled down Deirdra's long brown hair like a luminous waterfall.

Chapter Text

Only three people were remaining by the time Russell got up and walked out of the church. His stomach hurt, but he wasn't sure it was the same ache as it had constantly been for days now. This soreness was more needling, more concentrated in one spot of his body. He really didn't feel very good, even though taking the medicine more often had made his fever go back down each time.

Wasn't it supposed to be a painkiller? So why did his stomach still hurt so much? Russell didn't know how he was supposed to deal with it once the box would be finished. He'd punched a lot of holes in the wafers already because he'd kept increasing the doses every time he took more, hoping that taking more would mean it would act faster. There weren't many pills left and he still hurt. Russell absent-mindedly rubbed at his stomach. Maybe this was just a bellyache that would soon go away by itself, the kind medicine didn't work on.

Russell walked very slowly all the way back home. He felt sick, like there was heavy liquid sloshing around in his gut. He couldn't go faster because of his sore back. His limbs felt weak. His breathing was weird. He felt feverish still, despite taking the pills. Something was wrong with him but he'd probably get better like he always did, and the medicine would help, it had to. It was supposed to. As Russell made progress through the town he gradually hunched over and kept his arms tightly wrapped around his belly. He felt cold, then hot, then cold again. His skin was all tingly and he really needed to lie down. He hoped Dad wouldn't kick him out for the night because there was no way he'd allow himself to go to Chris and there was no one else whose house he could sleep at.

Russell was about two blocks away from his home, walking down the main road as night started to fall, when he heard a voice he really hadn't expected to hear anywhere near this place.

"Russell!"

He cautiously turned around so it wouldn't hurt his back. He couldn't believe it.

"What a coincidence!" happily exclaimed the zookeeper who was running up to him. "I was at the cafe just over there... The coffee's not very good. How are you? Did it go well at the hospital...?"

A nearby lamppost's light glinted off Tabasa's golden hair ornament and it was really bright. Russell blinked and squinted. His eyesight was a bit off.

"Russell...?" Tabasa frowned a little and peered at his face. "...Are you okay? What happened to your face? You don't look much better than before at all..." The man's gaze flickered down. "Does your belly hurt?"

Russell said a fight had happened, that he had to go, and he turned around to leave. Then he heard the zookeeper's footsteps following him.

"Russell, seriously, are you okay...?"

Russell felt something hot boil over inside him and he snapped at Tabasa to leave him alone. The footsteps behind him faltered, but then picked up again.

"Are you avoiding me?"

Russell realized he was angry. He was angry at Tabasa for bringing him to the hospital and he was angry that nice people were only nice with him when they wanted something from him, even if it took them a long time to get it. If Tabasa hadn't brought him to the hospital, if Tabasa hadn't pretended to care, Russell wouldn't have been hurting so much right now. Russell muttered that Tabasa shouldn't have brought him to the hospital.

"... But why?" Tabasa accelerated and now he was walking next to Russell. "What's any of this got to do with the hospital? Are you mad at me for bringing you there?"

Russell gritted his teeth. His temples were starting to ache because of how much he'd been doing that.

"You were sick!" exclaimed Tabasa when he was only answered with silence. "I couldn't just leave you alone like that."

Russell quickened his pace to shake off the persistant zookeeper, but he couldn't walk very fast like this and he definitely was in no state to bolt like he had with Yumi the day before.

"Russell... I don't understand. Help me understand."

The boy's steps slowed down and he had to take a moment to catch his breath. Walking at that pace had made him a bit dizzy. He hadn't gotten this breathless, before. He clutched at his stomach and dug his fingers in the spot of high, narrow pain so his mind would be distracted by the pressure instead. Tabasa stopped too and leaned down slightly, his brow furrowed in that familiar expression he so often showed Russell, like the one Doctor Trace had worn.

"Look, I don't now what's wrong with you... But I think I should walk you back home. Will you let me...?"

Russell asked why Tabasa even cared. Going home alone or accompanied didn't change anything for Russell, it wasn't like Tabasa needed to do this.

"I'm... concerned," said Tabasa in a softer voice. "You don't look very well, Russell... I'm just watching out for you. Okay? ... It doesn't have to mean anything."

Russell carefully shook his head. It didn't make sense. He asked Tabasa what he wanted. There had to be something he wanted.

"No, there's nothing," the man earnestly answered. "I don't understand. Why would there be anything?" Tabasa paused, his frown deepened. "It's like the way Chris reacted when I bought you two your tickets... Is it that you're just not used to this kind of thing? Because I promise you, Russell, I don't have any kind of ulterior motive." He paused, caught himself. "... Well, uh. I mean, there is one thing. At first I wanted to make sure you wouldn't do anything dangerous. You know, like when you tried to kill me." His lips twitched nervously upon remembering that time. "But... I think you wouldn't do that kind of thing again. And now I just want to be there for you because... Because you're my friend? We're friends, right?"

Russell stared at him. Those blue eyes were so honest, but Kantera's gray ones had been kind, and Mireille's green gaze had been gentle once. He couldn't know when they would change. He couldn't know when Tabasa would turn from a friend to an adult. Russell dropped his gaze to the ground and didn't say anything.

"...Oh." Tabasa shuffled uneasily. "I thought... Well, this is awkward. Uh..." He let out a small, nervous laugh. "I mean, I care for you, that's for sure... And we were getting along well so I thought maybe... We were."

He fell silent then. He didn't say anything but he was still standing there, and eventually Russell lifted his face again. The boy saw that Tabasa was scrutinizing him now, looking deep in thought and very serious. Tabasa opened his mouth again.

"...Actually," he slowly said. "You said that one time... You do care for me. ... It made you want to run away, I remember."

Russell felt cold splash along his intestines, making the pain stronger.

"So then... Why do you think we aren't friends? What makes you think I want something in exchange for being nice to you...?"

Russell spun around and resumed walking. He didn't want to be part of this conversation anymore. He didn't like that Tabasa was pointing out the way that Russell felt about him or that he was trying to touch upon the reason behind Russell's sudden distrust. When the boy heard the second, heavier pair of footsteps start up again, he testily ordered Tabasa to stop following him. Russell didn't know why his temper was so short today. It wasn't like him to be this reactive, to be so impulsive, to feel so much of that burning inside of him. When had it started? Why was he like this?

"... I'm just making sure you get back home safe," decided Tabasa. "I won't follow you all the way there, if you don't want me to... I'd understand if you'd prefer keeping your address a secret. I'm not trying to be creepy about it or anything, but..."

Russell tightly said that Tabasa was being creepy no matter his intent. Only creepy people followed kids around.

"...Yeah. Well, yeah, you've got a point," awkwardly answered the zookeeper. It sounded like he didn't know how to make this better.

Good, thought Russell a bit darkly. If Tabasa was uncomfortable then he'd go away. He looked up at the zookeeper and said that if he didn't leave him alone, he'd try to kill him again. Tabasa's eyes went wide.

"What- Why are you saying that kind of thing?"

He would, insisted Russell. He'd take the same metal pipe and he'd crush Tabasa's skull with it. He could imagine himself doing it right now. Tabasa's expression was very disturbed but it wasn't in the way Russell had hoped to see it.

"No, Russell... I don't know what's gotten into you but you definitely wouldn't do that. Definitely not. You don't want that. ...Right?"

Russell suddenly realized what he'd just said and immediately felt terrible for it. What was he even- This was Tabasa. Even if Tabasa didn't mean it when he said he cared, that didn't make it okay for Russell to threaten him with something the zookeeper was clearly still scared of. But he was so desperate to get rid of the kind man before Russell got... Before Russell got hurt again. The boy suddenly felt torn up on top of feeling sick. Today was just getting worse and worse.

"...I think you need to sleep... or something," ventured Tabasa when Russell didn't say anything.
"You really don't look okay. We can talk about this once you're rested. ... I promise. I'm always around."

Russell didn't look at him and didn't answer. He was very unsure now. His gaze lingered over the sidewalk and when it snagged on a familiar patch of asphalt, Russell was hit with the sudden realization that he was nearly home. It was just a few houses away. Without thinking, Russell stopped and pushed Tabasa around.

"Woah!" Tabasa wavered and caught himself on the nearby fence. "What are you-"

Russell told him to leave.

"What about your home? Are you close to it?"

Russell repeated himself, and this time added that it didn't concern Tabasa if he was close to it or not. Tabasa had no right to know.

"...Okay, okay," Tabasa said in an appeasing tone. "I get it, I'm leaving... Will you be alright?"

Russell just gave him another shove.

"Okay...! Jeez..." Tabasa muttered, but he still turned around again to face him. "Come see me whenever, okay? You know where to find me."

Russell said a curt yes and then waited. Tabasa got the message and finally left, and Russell went the opposite way. The talk with Tabasa had tired him out even more and he was conflicted. Somehow it seemed that Tabasa always had that effect on him. The boy walked past the two houses before his own and climbed up the stairs to the front porch, and then he slowly opened the door to make the least noise possible. Russell's thoughts screeched to a halt when his gaze landed on the two shapes on the couch.

His mind stopped.

His heart stopped.

Everything stopped.

And then time picked up again and Russell's brain finally understood what was in front of him: there was Dad, and there was Officer Bombers. Yumi. Right there in the living room, laying like a broken doll on the couch which always reeked of beer. Russell's skull was suddenly filled with acid. His heart started beating again, but erratically, frantically, like a small rabid beast trapped in a cage and raging to get out. He felt a rush across his skin and heat behind his knees, under his armpits, on his face, and cold buzzing in his hands and feet. Yumi was looking up at the ceiling. She wasn't moving, but Dad was.

She wasn't doing anything, but Dad

Dad was

Making noises. Gesticulating. Rutting.

Filthy, sick trash.

Your mere existence...

Russell grabbed a beer bottle lying on the ground. Mom was moaning and gasping in the other room the way she always when she was with a big, dirty animal. Russell didn't think. He couldn't think. The bottle smashed over Dad's head and he reared back like an angry roaring monster. His bloodshot eyes turned on Russell. He lurched off the couch and staggered forward, his big hands outstretched to grab at Russel, but his foot came down on an empty can and slipped. Dad toppled over and his head hit the corner of the table with a wet crunch. Russell kept his broken bottle held out in front of him and watched the monster's head come away from table with a squelch when its big body went limp on the floor. Something gray and mushy glistened inside of the skull. Blood spilled in lazy waves down the sides of the inanimate open-eyed face.

It was cold. Russell tore his gaze away from the blood and looked at the couch. Yumi wasn't moving. A familiar red shape was wrapped around her neck.

The animals continued moaning and groaning in the bedroom right behind Russell. His fingers tightened around the neck of the broken bottle, his pulse thundered in his ears, a dark scratchy fire licked at his insides. Filthy. Sick. Trash. Die.

Your mere existence...

Russell came into the room. Mom was on the bed with one of the big dirty beasts. Russell lifted his bottle in their direction and the beast noticed him with the same bloodshot eyes.

Die.

Someone yelled. The beast grabbed Russell by the shoulder in an aching grip and shoved him against the wall. It hurt his back but the pain was far away. Russell lashed out and the sharp glass cut open a hand like butter. The beast howled and fled. Russell faced the dirty naked lipstick-smeared woman on the bed. Filthy, filthy, filthy.

Die.

Mom screamed words at him but it was just white noise in his ears. He lunged forward.

Something stopped the broken glass from sinking in sweaty skin just a few inches above the thin lingerie. His arm was stuck. He still tried to push the glinting, jagged piece of beer bottle forward.

Die.
Die.
Die.
DIE.
DIE
DIE

"Russ, Russ, hey-"

Restraints were latched around his body and dragging him away and there was a coaxing voice in his ear. The dirty woman stared at him with wide eyes. Russell didn't let go of the object in his hand. It wasn't over. It wasn't over, the filth was still there and he had to cut into it.

"Russell!"

He jumped when the shout powered through his ears. Suddenly he realized that the restraints around him were arms. There was blood on the ground. He tried to spin around but the person at his back wouldn't let him.

"Russell, do you hear me? Are you with me?"

The voice was familiar, strained but familiar and- Had he- Had he seen? Was Tabasa going to-

"If you let go of the bottle, I'll let go of you, Russell."

Russell's fingers convulsively straightened and the bottle fell to the ground where it smashed into pieces. The arms around him loosened a bit, just enough for him to turn around. Russell looked up at the man. It was Tabasa. It really was him. What was Tabasa doing here? He was supposed to have left.

"Russell... You're not going to hurt me, right?"

His voice was tense and Russell saw the disturbed look in his eyes. Of course Tabasa was scared, he'd seen everything. Russell had said he would do it to him too.

"Hey, Russell... I need you to tell me you won't hurt me."

Russell kept blankly staring at him. He wondered why Tabasa was still here, why he hadn't run away from him yet, why he hadn't run from this horrible place and Russell. He couldn't make sense of the sounds the man's lips made as they moved.

Russell had gone through with it.

Dad was dead, probably. The way his head had crunched... when it had hit the table. Russell remembered how his own elbow had crunched landing on that very same corner. He tried to get another look at his father but Tabasa leaned to the side to block his view and his hands tightened around the boy's shoulders. Russell hadn't even noticed his hands were even there.

"Don't look, Russell."

There was the sound of his mother's panicked breathing in Russell's back.

"What... What's wrong with you?" Her voice was shaking, and then she shrieked: "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Russell looked at her. She'd gotten up on her knees, holding up the bedsheets to cover her body as if that kind of thing mattered to her. She had wild eyes and a horrible expression that painted her face over the heavy ruined makeup, like she was discovering his existence for the first time, really discovering it, and that this existence was monstrous. She'd never looked at him with such emotion on her face and it made Russell feel strange. Just this once, he finally truly existed for her. She'd finally noticed her son for good. And her son was a hideous thing.

Russell wondered how many more people would stare at him that way once he told the police what he'd done.

"Ma'am," intervened Tabasa. "Right now we need to-"

She lunged forward and Russell had the time to observe that her fingers looked like claws before she yanked him by the collar. She screamed in his face. "You crazy little shit!"

Tabasa pulled her away and forced her to let go. "Stop it, we need to get you both out of here!"

Russell stumbled forward until her fingers came away from his clothes, and then he just stood there. He didn't follow his mother when she ran out of the bedroom and he watched her crouch next to Dad. He didn't hear Tabasa talking to him. He emptily watched as Mom let out a muffled scream and scrambled outside, still naked beneath the bedsheets she'd pulled around herself. He watched Tabasa go kneel down next to Yumi on the couch with his phone to his ear. There was buzzing in his head and his eyes felt cold and dry. It was all over. What was he supposed to do now?

He felt tired.
He felt sick.
He felt weak.
His head hurt.
His stomach hurt.
His back hurt.

What was he supposed to do?

He'd killed someone, right. It was bad. He was supposed to go to the police, that was what he was supposed to do. If he stayed here, they would come and get him. But he didn't want to do anything. He'd killed Dad. He'd let Yumi die. Mom had looked at him like he was an abomination. It was what he was.

Hey...

Mom...

Dad...

Why was I born?

Chapter Text

Tabasa didn't think it through. He was acting on instinct when he told Russell to get out, and it was adrenalin that fueled his body into whipping out his phone for help. The naked woman had escaped the gruesome scene and left him to deal alone with the two bodies. Someone picked up the call and Tabasa tried to describe the situation as quickly as he could, but he could feel himself panicking, and the sight of the man's brain made him want to throw up. It got even worse the moment he realized that there was blood on the couch between the blonde lady's legs, and that she wasn't breathing. He choked on his own words.

"Don't panic, Mr. McNeil," said the man on the phone. "Backup is coming, but you have to start doing CPR on her right away. Do you have any training?"

"No, I don't! What do I do?"

He was told to lower her onto a flat surface, and so he grabbed her and winced when her head lolled and hit his shoulder. Oh god, he was holding a dead body. Tabasa nearly gagged. She was dead. What if he'd just broken something in her neck by doing this? Oh god, what if he was killing her?

"Mister McNeil, calm down," called the steady voice through the speaker. Tabasa had set his phone down to have both hands free. "You can do this."

"Yeah, okay, okay. I've got this," Tabasa mumbled to himself as he placed his hands on the woman's chest, and he started the vigorous compressions. His breath stuttered when he asked: "How long?"

"Until help arrives. Try getting someone to switch places with you if you get tired."

"Russell, go get help!" Tabasa shouted at the boy, who still hadn't moved a muscle. Russell didn't seem to have heard him. His gaze was empty and his arms hung limply at his sides. Tabasa decided to focus on the task at hand and not waste his breath.

He hoped the lady would wake up at any moment, gasp back to life like in the movies, but that didn't happen. This wasn't televised melodrama. He was dealing with the harsh, cold reality of limp bodies lying in the middle of a blood-splattered living room. It felt like they were trapped in a bubble of stopped time solely filled with the sound of Tabasa's heavy breathing. The only thing that indicated that time was indeed ticking was the gradual burn in his arms. His heart was pounding. He was sweating bullets.

It felt like hours had gone by when he finally heard sirens in the distance. They rapidly grew louder and lights started flashing right outside the open door, and second laters several people hurried in the house. Someone at Tabasa's back uttered a low: "Shit, what a mess."

One of them told Tabasa to step back so they could take over and he did as he was told. As the paramedics cleared out the space next to the couch, his eyes landed on Russell again. He'd slumped to the ground in the exact same spot and was sitting completely still with his arms tightly wrapped around his knees. His empty blue gaze kept shifting around but his face was utterly blank.

"Russell?"

The boy didn't react to his voice. Tabasa went to kneel in front of him and noticed his pupils were completely blown out. He felt Russell's shoulder shiver beneath his hand when he took hold of him, and an unhealthy warmth radiated through the layers of his clothes.

"Russell, hey... Buddy. Come- Come on, let's go." He tried to coax Russell out of his dazed state, to no avail. Tabasa was growing more and more aware of the pain in his right thigh where he'd been slashed when he'd grabbed Russell to drag him away from the woman. It probably wasn't that deep a cut, Tabasa had had worse before, but it still hurt and bled a lot. His trousers were damp and the dark stain had spread across his thigh, right over the throbbing spot.

"Russell," he insisted. "Listen, uh, they're... going to take care of everything. We've- we've gotta get out of here. Come, come on, buddy."

The boy's stare kept vacantly alternating between him and the two bodies that were being laid out on stretchers. Tabasa knew that he needed to to take Russell outside, far away from the gruesome scene. Tabasa squeezed both of Russell's shoulders and the renewed physical contact seemed to bring Russell out of his reverie. His dull blue gaze came up to rest on Tabasa's face and finally stayed there.

"Come with me," said Tabasa.

Russell didn't resist when he was guided away. His feet slowed down when he neared the table in the living room, but Tabasa firmly pulled him along before Russell could stare for too long. The boy's fingers were thin and cold where they limply laid in Tabasa's hand. When they finally stepped out of the house, he made him sit down on the side of the sidewalk a yard away from the house and did the same thing without ever letting go of the boy's hand.

"Russell... What happened in there?" quietly asked Tabasa.

The boy remained silent, of course. There were cops on the scene too now, and Tabasa saw the woman wrapped in the bedsheet talking with some of them, looking properly horrified by what had happened. Then she caught sight of him and Russell and her expression changed. The look on her face wasn't just fright; it twisted her features in a heinous mask. Tabasa still couldn't tell if she really was Russell's mother or not, and it wasn't like Russell was telling him anything at all. The only interaction he'd seen between the two so far had been Russell trying to stab her, followed by the woman nearly strangling Russell. She didn't seem to want to come any closer and Tabasa didn't want her to, anyway. He had the feeling she and Russell were better off kept apart.

When Tabasa looked at Russell again, he noticed that his pale lips had started moving very quietly, like he was talking to himself. Russell's words were hushed, he hadn't taken his eyes off the sidewalk, and Tabasa strained to hear what the boy was saying. Russell was saying that he had to go to the police, because that was what killers were supposed to do. That he was feeling sick. That it was his fault.

"... Hey. Hey, Russell. Buddy." Tabasa gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay. .... I'm- I'm with you, all right? You're not alone."

Russell looked up but his expression didn't flicker. He just stared at Tabasa with those same empty, delusional blue eyes and he didn't speak another word. It made Tabasa feel uneasy. It made him think of all the times Russell had worn a similar expression in front of him, it made him think that maybe there had always been things in Russell's life that a child was never supposed to witness. That it might've been the reason why he seemed so... indifferent to everything. Why he behaved the way he did.

One of the paramedics walked in front of them. His shirt tag read Bergart. "Is everyone all right?"

"I... I have a cut on my leg," Tabasa said.

The man looked down at Russell. "What about you, kid?"

Russell hadn't been paying attention to anything. Tabasa lightly nudged him, but Russell still didn't move nor answer. He was just trembling now, the way he'd never stopped shaking even after Tabasa had dragged him out of the house.

"Kid?" insisted the paramedic. The boy's dull gaze remained stuck to the ground. Bergart finally asked: "Is he hearing me?"

"I... I think he's just really shaken," said Tabasa.

"Jesus, he saw all that?"

"... Yeah."

"Okay, what's his name?"

"Russell."

The paramedic nodded. "Hey, Russell? You gotta talk to me. Can you tell me your date of birth and your full name?"

No reaction. Bergart didn't look very happy about it. Worried, Tabasa asked: "Can- Can you tell what's wrong with him?"

"Probably shock, wouldn't blame him after seeing that scene. Could you tell me what happened back there?"

"I'm, I'm not sure," Tabasa stuttered again, realizing then that he hadn't managed to get out a single sentence out without stumbling at some point since getting out of that god-forsaken house. He was probably still pretty high-strung about this whole thing. "The bodies were already like that when I came in. Are- Are they going to be alright?"

"I'm afraid I can't say for now. We're getting them to the hospital stat. You need to get patched up as well," he added with a jerk of his chin towards Tabasa's bloody thigh.

"He did it!" suddenly screeched the woman standing off to the side with one of the officers, her accusing words ripping through the crowd of people gathered in front of the house. Tabasa's head snapped towards the commotion and he saw that she was pointing at them. Everyone was staring. Russel still wasn't reacting to anything. "I'm telling you he tried to kill us both! Look at that man's leg! It happened to him because he tried to stop the brat from stabbing me! His own mother!"

"Hey," one of the officers called to Tabasa, "did you see what happened? Is that true?"

Tabasa felt a sudden chill. "It is, but-"

"See! I'm telling the truth!" shouted the woman. "He's a murderer!"

"Is the boy hurt?" the officer asked Bergart as he started walking closer. He looked young, had short blonde hair beneath his cap, and his brown eyes were grave.

The paramedic's expression had shifted into something unsure and wary as he stared at the two sitting on the sidewalk, and he lifted his head to answer the other man. "I haven't had the time to assess him, but I can tell you that he isn't responsive to verbal communication."

"If he's not injured, then that's enough." The officer stopped in front of them and asked Tabasa: "What's your name, sir?"

"McNeil," cautiously answered the zookeeper, forcing himself not to stammer this time. "Tabasa McNeil."

"Right, Mister McNeil. I'm Officer Edward Atkins, now step away from the boy."

"Look, I'm sure this isn't what- There's gotta be an explanation for all of this."

"Yes, and we're going to find it. Now please do as I say. I don't want to have to make you."

Tabasa tried to gauge whether this was a threat the officer would follow through, and then he looked down uncertainly at the boy next to him. Russell was staring at the officer. His hand was still limp in Tabasa's.

Tabasa asked: "What are you doing to do?"

Officer Atkins grabbed Tabasa by the elbow and pulled him and Russell apart. The boy's cold hand slipped out of Tabasa's grasp and Russell didn't make a sound when he was tugged to his feet. Tabasa noticed the way he winced, however, and how he clutched at his stomach.

"We'll bring him to the station so we can sort this out. You'll be coming too, Mister McNeil, once your injury is tended to. We're going to need your witness statement."

"Officer... I think he might be sick, his stomach was already hurting earlier," Tabasa worriedly said, his gaze still trained on Russell.

The officer looked down at the boy and there was an edge to his voice when he said: "He's got some explaining to do, first. I'd like to know why he attacked his own parents, and maybe he'll be able to tell us what the hell one of our officers was doing in that living room."

Russell blankly stared at the ground. His face was pale, his white fingers weakly gripped his clothes. He looked like he'd topple over at any moment. It could've been the shock but Tabasa had the growing feeling that it was more than that.

"Officer-"

The officer's gaze snapped up and Tabasa stopped insisting when he saw the look on his face. "Two people may die tonight. We're getting to the bottom of this." He turned to the paramedic. "One of my men will escort Mister McNeil to the hospital so that he can be brought to the station as soon as possible."

Bergart mutely nodded and Officer Atkins started guiding Russell away. The boy followed for a few steps, but then his knees suddenly buckled beneath him and Officer Atkins had to pull him back up by the back of his jacket. "Hey, walk on your own."

Russell said Tabasa's name in a thready voice while he tried to steady himself with a palm splayed against the officer's side, sounding lost and tired, as if wondering where he'd gone. Tabasa immediately made a move to join them but Officer Atkins held up a hand.

"Stay back, Mister McNeil."

Russell straightened and looked around. He seemed more alert now. Both his voice and eyes seemed a bit frightened when he called for Tabasa again, who didn't heed the warning and kept coming closer.

"Roy, hold him back," Officer Atkins ordered one of his collegues.

One of the older officers stepped in front of Tabasa to block off his path and he protested: "He's scared!"

Russell repeated his name but Officer Atkins continued pulling him along by the elbow and he was forced to stumble backwards.

"Officer, he's just a kid, he's-"

Russell tripped again. This time Officer Atkins wasn't fast enough to catch him and the boy hit the ground hard, and it made him start to cough, and he lifted an arm to wrap it around his chest while the other still protectively covered his stomach.

"Let them check on him, at least!" insisted Tabasa with a wide gesture towards the paramedics. "He's obviously not in his normal state!"

It seemed that Officer Atkins was starting to conceive that maybe the boy really was sick from the slack expression on his face when Russell started retching on the ground. Tabasa felt a chill when Russell spat out a small puddle of bile which he could see even from where he stood was vividly tinged with red.

"Ah, shit," quietly swore Officer Atkins.

Russell shakily wiped his mouth and stared at his bloody fingers, and the face he lifted to the adults surrounding him was distressed. Too distressed, especially for a kid who didn't ever smile or frown. Tabasa had never been unfortunate enough to witness this kind of expression on anyone's face before, but Russell's question was terribly clear: Am I dying?

"Let me through!" he yelled at the big man blocking his way, too worried, too frantic to care that he was raising his voice at an officer of the law.

"Roy," said Officer Atkins with a tight nod, and then he called towards the one remaining ambulance that had been waiting for Tabasa to board. "The kid's throwing up blood, someone get over here!"

Tabasa pushed past the officer and dropped to his knees next to Russell, who silently grabbed his coat with shaking fingers. Dark red smeared on the green fabric. Russell's eyes were wide with terror. Tabasa had never seen him so affected by anything at all, and he promptly tried to reassure him. "It's okay, buddy, you're gonna be okay. We're gonna get you to a hospital and you'll be fine."

Russell winced, his wet hand flying to his belly again. He whispered he didn't want to go. He sounded out of breath.

"I'll come with you, okay?"

Russell shook his head slowly, his lips still moving. Tabasa leaned in closer to make out Russell's quiet words and felt like someone had shot him through the heart when he did. He fervently grabbed the boy's hand.

"No, Russell, I'm not scared of you." Russell must've heard his answer, but he just tiredly closed his eyes and listed against Tabasa's shoulder. He was so pale. Tabasa gathered Russell in his arms so he could pull him up to his feet, clothes bunching up beneath his grasp. "Here, I'll help you get to the ambulance, okay?"

"Shit," suddenly swore Officer Atkins. "Mister McNeil, wait."

Tabasa froze. He noticed the way Roy turned to look at Russell's mother, Bergart's suddenly intense stare, Officer Atkin's tight features.

"What?" Tabasa asked.

"Turn him around," ordered the officer. "Lift his shirt up."

Russell weakly protested for them to wait and a sense of foreboding seized Tabasa. He carefully did as Officer Atkins had asked and couldn't stifle his gasp when he saw what had made the others react that way. Russell's back was a mess of shiny red welts, the skin bruised in shades of black and purple, swollen and sparsed with weeping cuts. It was most definitely infected. How long had Russell been carrying these injuries on his back? Why had he let it get this bad- no, how had it even happened in the first place? No wonder he could barely walk on his own!

"Dammit." Officer Atkins turned to Russell's mother and angrily gestured to the boy. "Did you know about this?"

The woman looked caught out for a brief instant, like she hadn't expected the injuries to show up but knew exactly where they'd come from, and then she quickly said: "I didn't do it."

Officer Atkins narrowed his eyes at her and sharply declared: "We'll sort it out at the station just like we meant to. And Missus Seager, we'll listen to both sides of the story."

Russell writhed a bit in Tabasa's arms and asked him not to tell anyone. His small hand was cold where it laid upon Tabasa's and he sounded exhausted. He didn't sound like he completely grasped what was going on anymore. Maybe he never really had from the moment Tabasa had rushed in through that door and seen him holding the broken bottle. Russell's hands were freezing but heat seeped through his clothes into Tabasa's just like that day at the aquarium.

"He's burning up, he really needs help," Tabasa urgently told the others.

"On it," said Bergart, and one of his collegues moved forward with him.

Russell murmured something about spinning as Tabasa shifted his position so he could let the two other men help him walk, and then his voice faded completely. His head tipped to the side and he sagged in their arms. Tabasa felt his heart drop when he understood that Russell had just passed out on them.

"Oh shit," he breathed.

"Don't panic," said the other paramedic. "He'll be in good hands with us, okay?"

Tabasa didn't like the implication in those words. "I'm coming with you."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're not family."

"I'm coming with you! Someone needs to be there for him when he wakes up, it's not going to be her!" he exclaimed, pointing at Russell's mother.

"I think we should let him climb on board with us," intervened Bergart. "He said something about Russell's stomach hurting earlier, he can tell us more about it. Mister McNeil needs to go there to get stitches anyway."

"Right," amended his collegue. "That sounds like a good idea, then."

"One of our men will follow so that Mister McNeil can be brought back once his injury is cared for," said Officer Atkins. "Go, Mister McNeil. We'll see each other again soon."

Tabasa nodded and promptly followed the paramedics back in the ambulance, and Bergart swiftly laid Russell on the trolley while his collegue, Jones, gave Tabasa compresses to quell the blood flow of the gash on his thigh. Russell's face was white and his features were still pinched in pain even though he was unconscious. His arms had found their way back to cover his stomach. Judging from Bergart's hurried movements and Jones' quick relay as they wrapped a cuff around his arm and adjusted a transparent tube beneath his nose for oxygen to flow through, this really was a medical emergency. Russell was in a worse state than Tabasa had thought.

"What's- What's happening to him?" he asked, his voice tense with a fear he couldn't control. Adrenalin was still running through his veins.

"It might be due to blood loss," said Bergart in a clipped voice. "We're doing the best we can to make sure he reaches the hospital safe and sound, please don't worry."

"Blood... Blood loss?" Tabasa's voice sounded faint to his own ears. When had it started? "What causes that?"

"A multitude of things, and we won't know where it comes from until some tests are done. Mister McNeil, right now we're mostly trying to keep him stable. Unless you know something that could be useful for the doctors to know as well, it would be better if you let us focus."

"... Sorry," quickly said Tabasa. "Sorry."

Bergart glanced up at him and his voice softened a bit when he saw the worry on the zookeeper's face. "We'll know more once he gets to the hospital. Russell's blood pressure is a bit on the low side but we're going to give him fluids so he can stabilize for the trip."

"Okay. Thank you... So he's going to be okay. He's going to be okay?"

"He's in good hands with us," repeated Bergart.

Tabasa understood that they couldn't say whether or not Russell would be okay. It was the kind of thing that couldn't be certain, like that time the vet had explained it to him once when he'd come over for one of the foxes' toothache which had ended up leading to a nasty infection and a very sad and untimely death. Of course, Tabasa understood that. He was still desperate to know if Russell would make it out relatively all right.

Tabasa waited for the paramedics to be done positioning Russell, hooking him up to an IV and connecting him to the beeping machine above their heads. Once things had gotten calmer in the ambulance, he reached out to hold the boy's hand. Tabasa felt terribly guilty. He shouldn't have let this happen. He'd seen all the signs but some stupid, naive part of him had thought that he'd be able to act when the time was right, and now, Russell was paying a price for his indecisiveness.

Just what kind of torture had he gone through in that house? How long had his parents been hurting him in that way? How many messed-up scenarios had Russell had to witness before? Even Tabasa could tell that this was what had lead Russell to become the way he was. No child could have grown up normal in a household where such insanity had unfolded.

Tabasa gently squeezed the boy's thin fingers and murmured: "...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't see what was wrong earlier, Russell."

Russell's eyes remained closed, his brow furrowed in pain. He didn't react.

Chapter Text

MEDICAL HISTORY

Age: 14 y.o. 
Height: 4'9"
Weight: 57 lbs
BMI: 12.3

CHIEF COMPLAINT: abdominal pain and vomiting blood

HISTORY OF PRESENT ILLNESS:
Mr. SEAGER was brought by ambulance to the ER after vomiting blood and fainting in the street outside his home with several witnesses. He is not awake at the moment of his arrival. The paramedics say they managed to rouse him a few times during the trip but never to full awareness. The adult accompanying him, Mr. MCNEIL, reports that the patient seemed in pain and held his stomach in the hour that preceded the events. Mr. MCNEIL also reports having seen important wounds on the patient's back.

Mr. SEAGER was diagnosed with bronchitis during his last stay in the hospital which ended a few days ago and was prescribed IBUPROFEN by Dr. TRACE. An empty box of this medication was found on his person. Possible misusage, overdose?

PAST MEDICAL HISTORY:
Notion of fractured ribs as a child
Recent trauma to the elbow, no broken bones

FAMILY HISTORY:
Breast cancer (paternal grandmother)
Cirrhosis (paternal grandfather)

SOCIAL HISTORY:
Middle schooler, lives at home with both parents (married), only child.

ALLERGIES:
shellfish

MEDICATION HISTORY:
IBUPROFEN 200 mg (PRN)

REVIEW OF SYSTEMS:
- General: desorientation, fever and chills, sweating, fatigue, weakness
- Skin: bruises on back and stomach, lacerations on back
- Head: headache – bruises
- Respiratory system: occasional dry coughing, occasional shortness of breath, no lung pain
- Gastrointestinal system: hematemesis, abdominal pain

PHYSICAL EXAMINATION:
- Vital signs: pyrexial at 104.3 °F, tachycardic at 135 bpm, hypertensive at 153/87 mmHg, satO2 at 100% under 2L. Non-verbal pain scale at 4 points, moderate pain in unconscious patient.
- Extremities: cold and pale.
- Head, eyes, ears, nose, throat: bruise in the left frontal region of the head and left eye.
- Lungs: fine rales bilaterally
- Heart: no m/r/g
- Abdomen: bruises in all regions and most recent in the left lumbar region, diffuse abdominal pain notably in epigastric region, non-distended, depressible, no bowel sounds
- Neuro: Glasgow score 10, confusion, no anomalies in CN assessment, reflexes OK, no motor/sensory anomalies
- Skin: 10 inflammatory lacerations on the back with purulent discharge, numerous bruises of differing ages on rear/back (curvilinear bruising), stomach/face (blunt impact?)

LABORATORY TEST RESULTS

> Lab data: malnutrition, slight alteration of renal function (dehydration), normal liver function, regenerative anemia, biological inflammatory syndrome
> Cultures: S. aureus positive

DIAGNOSTIC TEST RESULTS

> Thoracic X-ray: small chest wall deformity (history of rib fractures)
> Cervico-thoracic CT-scan: perforated gastric ulcer and internal bleeding, no brain anomalies

PROBLEM LIST

- 10 back lacerations, infected
- S.aureus bloodstream infection and sepsis
- Blood loss from perforated gastric ulcer, may be caused by IBUPROFEN overdose
- Bronchitis

PATIENT PLAN

- Perforated gastric ulcer: call and schedule emergency surgery
- S. aureus systemic infection: start cefazolin
- Switch ibuprofen with paracetamol
- Watch vital signs
- Watch hydration state
- Watch nutritional state
- Plan hospitalisation in the pediatrics ward for treatment of systemic infection and post-surgery care (Doctor TRACE is informed), and further psychiatric care (contact psychiatry resident for assessment of probable ibuprofen overdose)

PSYCHATRIC EVALUATION

Tristan LOZAC (resident)

Russell is 14 years old and lives with his two parents. He is in seventh grade (was held back a year). At the moment of this observation, Russell came out of surgery yesterday evening for a perforated gastric ulcer and is visibly still tired from this ordeal. I explain to Russell that I was asked to see him because of the suspicion that he overdosed on his medication. Russell avoids direct eye contact and often ignores me. He only answers through non-verbal ways of communication by nodding or shaking his head. He denies right away that this was a suicide attempt.

Russell starts speaking after half an hour of this. It's difficult to get a read on his emotions, his face is expressionless. He remains generally closed off throughout the entire conversation.

Russell says he is not seeking help and that he was brought to the hospital against his will. He's only been hospitalized twice before and says he has been actively avoiding stays in any kind of medical establishment. When I ask why, Russell falls silent again. He refuses to answer to any further prying.

I change the subject to his injuries and notably those on his back. Again, Russell keeps quiet.

I ask him what happened before he was brought to the hospital, which yields slightly better results. Russell tells me he caused the death of his father and "Officer Bombers" and that the police will come get him very soon. When I tell him that he is going to stay hospitalized for a few days, Russell persists in saying that he will go to prison instead. I ask him where his mother is in all of this, and Russell says that his mother hates him because he is a monster, a word on which he insists heavily.

I ask him how he "caused" these deaths, and Russell shuts down. He pulls the sheets over his head and refuses to answer any and all following questions until I leave.

Russell's behavior requires further investigation to get a full picture of his home life and his personality. I inform Doctor HELEN, senior in our division of child and adolescent psychiatry, of Russell's case.

From: Earl TRACE

To: Dylan HELEN, Tristan LOZAC

Hello Dylan,

I'm contacting you about Russell S., 14 years old, who came in just yesterday for an NSAID overdose. Just wanted to let you know I already sent a mail to the prosecutor recently because I heavily suspected abuse at the hands of his parents, even though I didn't get much out of Russell himself when he came in for simple bronchitis a little over a week ago. He was already very quiet even before all of this happened.

I also got some news from the police about the incident with his father and that officer, and things are already underway. They intend on getting a testimony from Russell as soon as possible so you might want to give him a heads-up before they get to him.

I'm always available if you need more information.

Have a nice one,

Earl

PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION

Tristan LOZAC (resident)

I explain to Russell that this report is mandated by the jurisdiction so that he may understand how important it is for him to cooperate during the evaluation. Russell understands and accepts to talk to me. He is in better health than two days ago, though still tired and very restrictive in both the display of his emotions and in speech.

I begin the conversation with Russell by asking him how he feels. Russell says that he is bored and doesn't understand why he is still here, since he expected to be brought to prison after his surgery. He says he has not received family visits, even though we have alerted Mrs. Seager that it is possible to do so. Russell does not seem particularly disturbed by the fact that no one has come to see him and again, easily states that his mother hates him. When I ask him if there is anyone he would like to be able to see, Russell says no, and that it does not matter since he is a criminal and "criminals don't deserve things that they would like".

I ask him who he likes and he says that he has two friends: "Chris", 14-year-old classmate, and "Tabasa", an adult working as a zookeeper. However, Russell does not wish to see them for the reason stated precedently. Russell has not called anyone and has apparently refused five calls, which nurses later tell me came from his classmate three times, and from the zookeeper two times, who also happens to be the adult who accompanied Russell to the A&E.

Russell insists that he is a murderer even when I remind him that it isn't the case. Insisting too much on the subject causes him to shut down for a little while.

I try changing the subject to the reason why he took so much Ibuprofen. Russell still does not report any suicidal tendencies or ever having them. His version of the facts does not change: Russell didn't know that this would happen and genuinely believed that taking more than the recommended dosage would only make him feel better. Russell is not familiar with the concept of overdosing. To him, medicine is only beneficial and cannot be dangerous. I try to educate him on the dangers of taking too much medicine but he doesn't seem to understand, try again later.

I return to the subject of his family by asking him if they ever told him something similar to what I told him about these medical dangers, and Russell explains that he never takes medicine at home. I ask him how he gets treatment when he is ill and Russell says he always got help elsewhere, either from his friend Chris or from "Mireille". I ask him who Mireille is but Russell ignores this question.

Russell confirms that his parents refused him access to medicines; I ask him if they have ever refused him any other basic necessities, to which he answers no at first, but as I detail a list of these necessities it quickly becomes apparent that Russell has been deprived of several important things from his early childhood.
- Russell does not have a real bed, he has always slept on a thin mattress on the ground of his parents' bedroom.
- For food, Russell takes what he can find in the cupboards and relies on his mother's decision to go grocery shopping when she feels up to it, and if she remembers to buy enough for three. He has had to skip meals because of this. Eating together with his family is an extremely rare occurrence and it isn't an occasion to talk with his parents. Sometimes, he is able to go buy himself food but this is dependent on whether or not he is able to steal money from his mother's purse. Sometimes, he is able to eat meals at his friend Chris' house.
- It seems that Russell goes entirely neglected (no touch nor conversation) unless he attracts attention by being "a bad kid". When I ask him what that means, he says: "It's when I annoy them because I'm there. It puts them in a bad mood." When I ask him why that would be, Russell shrugs and doesn't explain any further. He isn't willing to tell me what consequences "attracting attention" entails, either.

I try to dig further into the hypothesis of abuse but Russell is very avoidant by keeping his silence and averting his gaze when I ask him if his parents ever give him punishments, and how he got his wounds. He won't answer to any questions regarding his father from here on out even when they are simply about what his father does for a living. He does answer the more innocent questions about his mother and tells me that she only works during afternoons. He also volunteers (without my prompting) the fact that she doesn't like flowers. I ask him if his mother stays at home or has activities in the morning, and Russell tells me he doesn't know what she does when she isn't at home or at work.

It soon comes to light during this line of questioning that Russell's mother also works as a prostitute at night, which he describes in his own way: calling her clients by animalistic terms rather than considering them as men (possible coping mechanism), never speaking the term "sex", several times expressing a feeling of disgust, referring to their actions as "dirty sounds". Russell seems to think that while it makes him uncomfortable, it isn't odd for him to stay and sleep in the very same room where the sexual acts are happening. I ask him if any of these men has ever attempted anything with him, and while he denies having experienced any manner of penetration or genital touch, he goes quiet when asked if he was ever made uneasy by their attitude towards him.

Finally, I ask him why he thinks that he is responsible for the two victims' deaths.

- For his father, Russell tells me that he wanted his father to stop being dirty. He is very calm and detached when he discusses what happened and he does not shy away from giving graphic descriptions: "He [father] was on top of her [officer] and he was making those dirty noises, but she wasn't making any noise at all. I didn't realize it when I took the bottle. I didn't really think about what I was doing. His head crunched on the table like my elbow did. I knew he hit it hard even though I didn't push him against it. I didn't know it could just open like that. His brain was gray. It looked all wet."

- For his mother, Russell says that he felt the same way he did towards his father because "She was making dirty noises too, even though Dad was hurting Officer Bombers. She continued doing it, so that's why I wanted her to stop. I wanted her gone." I ask Russell if he still wants his mother gone, and he says no. "It was just digusting right then. It's always dirty, but this time I really wanted to make it stop. I didn't know how to stop it."

- For the officer, Russell says that it is his fault she ever came into the house in the first place, because he used to walk in the streets very late and she often brought him back home. He says he'd been trying to keep her away but that it didn't work. He also details her place in the scene: "She was all limp like a doll. My scarf was around her neck. It choked her. I saw her eyes. Her eyes were red and there was a lot of blood everywhere." Russell affects detachment here as well, although he starts scratching at his neck during the description. There are older scratch marks. I ask him how they happened, and Russell drops his hand and goes silent again.

I explain to him that he will likely be seeing police officers soon who will also ask him questions about what happened and Russell seems to be undisturbed by this, clearly having expected it to happen since the beginning.

I have asked the personnel of the pediatrics ward about Russell's general behavior; they report that he is always this closed off, no matter who interacts with him. He spends his time sleeping and reading, and he has very little appetite. While awake Russell displays pronounced athymia, however he has had at least two nightmares distressing enough that the noises he made alerted nearby staff. Each time he was woken up, he proceeded to ignore the people in his room as soon as he remembered where he was and pretended to fall asleep again.

I recommend the staff to monitor signs of self-harm/suicidal tendencies, and to report any that they may notice.

Chapter Text

Officer Edward Atkins knew that he'd be sleep-deprived for the days that followed. It wasn't that he hadn't seen his fair share of gruesome scenes before, but the sight of an inanimate, pale, and bloody Yumi Bombers getting carted away to the ambulance had hit him harder than many other things had in his short career. She'd been the one to take him under her wing when he'd graduated at twenty years old, even though they'd only had a three-year difference of age. Six years later and she hadn't changed one bit. Yumi was dynamic, and the energetic authority she naturally carried around with her could inject alertness into any room. She bantered with just about anyone, and she took her job seriously. Everyone liked her. Edward couldn't get the image of her throttled neck out of his head. All he could do now was to get to the bottom of this.

The first person he was able to question was Mrs. Seager. It was late at night and they'd lended her a change of clothes so that she wouldn't have to go back inside her house so soon after the grisly chain of events that had unfolded there. Edward had initially thought that she had been an unfortunate witness and victim to the crime, but a quick succession of noticed details made him realize soon enough that she was not entirely innocent. Her demeanor rubbed him the wrong way.

He remembered, after McNeil had been sent off in the ambulance with Russell Seager, that he'd gone back to the mother's side. He remembered the unease that had prickled down his nape when he'd caught her malicious glare towards the departing vehicle. As soon as she'd noticed him staring, she'd quickly changed her expression into something beseeching and frightened just like when he'd encountered her in the street earlier. She'd started spinning a narrative that she hadn't been able to stop any of what had been done to her son.

Edward Atkins wasn't dupe. Sure, the boy had tried to kill her, but the amount of cold poisonous anger she seemed to harbor for her son could not have originated solely from this single incident. The state of Russell Seager's back could not have been so terrible without extended neglect allowing it to become like that in the first place. Something wrong and twisted had been happening in that house long before Yumi had landed in it.

Edward pulled the keyboard to him. "All right, Mrs. Seager, now let's go over the details. Can you tell me what happened tonight, exactly?"

She leaned back in her seat with her arms crossed. There was no trace of fear or grief on her face, just annoyance and some anger, as if he was wasting her time. "You saw exactly what he did."

"I need to know what you saw happen."

"What do I know? I was in the other room, I didn't see anything until he tried to stab me! My own son, can you believe it?"

"I'm aware what your son tried to do to you," tiredly said Edward. She'd repeated it at least six times already and even if he knew it could've been due to lingering shock, it was wearing on his patience. He really just needed to know more about what had happened before that. "You didn't hear anything? Even though you were in the next room?"

"I was busy, I didn't pay attention."

"What were you doing?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "None of your business."

Edward breathed in and remained calm. It was her right not to tell him what she'd been doing, of course, but he didn't appreciate her tone. "All right. Mrs. Seager, you do realize that the more information a witness gives us about a crime, the better our chances are of putting away the criminal responsible for it?"

Mrs. Seager's expression shifted into interest. "You'd put a kid in jail?"

Edward had seen mothers who didn't love their child before. He was not surprised that she wanted to get rid of her boy, considering he'd attacked her and that this seemed to be the result of long-lasting behavioral issues, but it still made him uncomfortable to see it.

"If the crime was severe enough, yes. However, given the obvious signs of extensive abuse on his body, there may be attenuating circumstances for him which could be taken into account. But this is another matter we'll come back to later. Mrs. Seager, please tell me what you were doing that evening."

She looked up at the ceiling for a while. Then she looked back down at him and said: "Fine. I was having sex."

The officer frowned, confused. "With your husband?"

Mrs. Seager stared at him like he was an idiot. "No, another man. My husband was in the next room watching TV or whatever it is he does when he's drunk."

Edward decided not to question this arrangement which seemed to be a normal thing to happen in the Seager household, and clarified: "You didn't hear any signs of a struggle coming from the next room?"

"Well, I did, but as I said, I was having sex. The door was closed and I didn't see anything. My husband often gets into arguments and it wouldn't have been the first time he fought with someone in our house." She shrugged. "It wasn't any of my business who he argued with."

"When you say that it wouldn't have been the first time he fought with someone in your house, what do you mean by this?"

"He has a short temper. Anyone who disturbs him gets yelled at. But if he yells at me, I yell right back."

"Does that anyone include Russell?"

"Sometimes."

"Where was your son that evening?"

"I don't know. He wasn't home yet when I started."

"So it was just you, your partner, and your husband at first."

"Yes."

"And then you heard your husband argue with someone else while you were having sex. Who was it?"

"It was a woman's voice." She frowned a bit. "Now that I think about it, she sounded familiar. Had a southern accent."

"Officer Yumi Bombers. She's brought your son back home on many occasions when he was found wandering around late at night."

"Oh, right. That's her."

"Do you know why she was in your house?"

"No idea." Mrs. Seager's eyes widened as if she'd realized something and her head snapped up to Edward. She whispered, horrified: "She was on the couch. I saw her."

He wasn't surprised by her delayed realization. As uncomfortable as this woman made him feel, he knew her agitation and shock when they'd talked outside the house had been genuine. At the time she'd only mentioned getting attacked by her son and seeing her husband on the floor, and it was likely she hadn't even registered Yumi's presence.

Edward asked: "Do you remember if there was any kind of physical fight?"

She looked away, still wide-eyed, and then she seemed to pull herself together and leaned back in her seat again. "Yes, there was a fight."

"Did you try to intervene?"

Mrs. Seager shrugged. "No. He's always that violent. It's not like he'd stop if I intervened."

"You could've called 911."

"I was busy."

Edward' hand tightened in a fist, and upon noticing it, he quickly unclenched it and resumed typing. "That's non-assistance to a person in danger, Mrs. Seager."

"Maybe I was afraid he would hurt me too if I did anything to go against him," she replied.

Edward studied her. She stared back. He couldn't tell if she was being truthful so he returned to typing out the statement. "You heard sounds of a fight, yet neither you nor your partner went to look into it."

"Happens all the time for me, and I don't think he even cared about what we were hearing." She smiled emptily at him, a twisted curl of her red-smudged lips. "He was pretty distracted. He only pulled out when the kid burst through the door waving that broken bottle around."

"That's when Russell tried to attack you."

"Yeah. He injured my c- partner when he tried to take the weapon away from him, the fucking wuss ran off, and then I was left alone with him. He almost got me." She paused and hugged herself. "He tried to gut me. It was only because that other man stopped him that I'm okay now."

Edward nodded. "Tabasa McNeil."

She looked up at him.

"That's the man's name," he explained. "With the green coat."

"Oh," she said. Then she breathed in and resumed talking. "Anyway, that man pulled Russell back and I went to check on my husband, and I saw it was bad, so I ran out. I couldn't deal with it. I don't really remember what I did out on the street. I think some people saw me and tried to talk to me. And then you were there. You know the rest."

The keyboard clacked for a few more seconds. Edward stared at the statement written out on the computer screen, then he clasped his hands on the desk and looked at her. "Mrs. Seager, what do you think happened in that room?"

"Russell happened."

"What?"

"That kid's always been wrong in the head."

"Do you think that... Russell attacked both your husband and Officer Bombers?"

"Probably. You know, he's always quiet, but you can see it in his eyes that he's not right. I'm not surprised he snapped like that. He was a disaster waiting to happen."

Edward frowned, but chose not to comment on the obvious displacement of blame. "You think he overpowered two adults, one of which is a trained police officer, with just a broken beer bottle?"

She paused, then shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't there."

Edward decided to change the subject. "When I asked you about Russell's back, you answered that you didn't do it. We can both tell that you already knew about those injuries beforehand and visibly did not get treatment for your son. How did he get them?"

To her credit, Mrs. Seager didn't try to dig herself a deeper hole. "What do you think? Of course he got them at home. I didn't do it, though."

"You didn't try to get his injuries treated, either."

"No."

"Why?"

Mrs. Seager shrugged again.

Edward stared at her. Silence stretched out and she didn't look like she thought she was at fault. He finally asked: "When did your husband start abusing your son?"

"I don't remember."

"You never reported it?"

"No."

"Did you try to help Russell?"

"Not really."

"Did you care that this was happening?"

"I never wanted that kid," she unblinkingly said.

Edward had expected this sort of answer but it still made him speechless. Eventually he leaned back, sighed, and rubbed his eyes. He thought he was starting to understand why Russell Seager had "always been wrong in the head", as Mrs. Seager put it. He was also starting to understand why his colleague showed such a soft spot for the young delinquent: Yumi had suspected the abuse and she'd been trying to get proof of who'd comitted it, and how. They couldn't do anything without proof. Edward looked back up at the woman.

"Is this the first time the injuries were so obvious?"

"I never really paid attention. You'll have to ask one of them to know."

Edward' voice hardened. "Maybe it's time you paid attention, because this is clearly child abuse you've participated in, Mrs. Seager. Russell is responsible for attacking you and it's true that regardless of the situation, he will have to face consequences for it, but you aren't innocent and that's something the court will take into account the day he's judged for what he did. You may even face charges for your own crimes."

Maybe that hadn't been the best way to handle it, because it was over after that. Mrs. Seager had visibly decided that Edward was her enemy and he didn't manage to get much out her for the rest of the questioning.

The following witness was Mr. McNeil when he finally came back from the hospital. Edward wasn't surprised it had taken so long: trips to the ER always lasted forever. He noticed that McNeil didn't take off his hood when he sat down in front of him. The guy seemed anxious. Beneath the glow of the room's single lightbulb, the features of his face were taught and tired. Edward had already noticed out on the street that he looked young. The officer set down a cup of water for his witness to drink and sat at his desk.

"So, Mr. McNeil. I'd like you to tell me what you saw tonight. Before we begin, can I see an ID?"

McNeil nodded, took out his wallet from one of the pockets of his long green coat, and slipped a card forward. A quick glance at the man's ID told Edward that McNeil was indeed younger than him. Twenty-three years old. Yumi would probably call him a kid.

"I imagine you've never had to see anything like that before," he said as he set down the ID to type out the information on his keyboard. He kept his tone of voice open and conversational, hoping to put the younger man at ease.

McNeil shook his head, eyes flickering to some place faraway. Questioning would probably go better with Mr. McNeil than it had gone with Mrs. Seager given that he'd been the one to call the police in the first place, and he was also a lot easier to read, but he still seemed pretty shaken up about all of it. No one could blame him. Edward knew he'd have to show patience.

"So, Mr. McNeil. Why were you at the scene?"

McNeil wrapped his hands around the cup but didn't lift it. He hesitated, cleared his throat. "We... crossed paths that day. Me and Russell. He was alone and didn't look very well so I walked him back nearly all the way to his home. He didn't want me to follow," he said like he was admitting a secret, "but in his state, you know... I wanted to be sure he'd get to safety."

Edward nodded. "I understand."

"He went inside. I was going to leave, I left, but then... I heard screaming."

"What did you do?"

"I went to see what was happening. I didn't know it was coming from his house... I thought it was a woman getting mugged, or something like that."

"And then?"

"The door to the house was open and I could hear that the yelling came from there, so I ran in. I wasn't thinking. I saw the bodies, that's the first thing I saw. There was..." McNeil paused, gulped in a breath. Clearly he would need some time to get over the crime scene he'd stumbled upon. "A man and a woman in the living room. I didn't really look at them because another man ran past me when I got in and there was that screaming coming from the room next door." He tightened his hold around the cup of water. He looked haunted. "... I heard Russell scream. I've never heard noise like that come out of his mouth before. ... He's always so quiet."

"The man who ran out, what did he look like?"

"I don't know. I didn't really... get a good look at him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, at any rate. I think his hair was brown... and short." A pause. "...I'm really sorry, I don't remember anything else."

"That's fine." Officer Atkin's typing filled the room. "What did you do then?"

"I rushed in the bedroom to stop whatever was happening, and Russell was standing there. He was holding a broken bottle at the side of the bed, and this woman was lying on it, and she looked scared, and he was going to attack her with the broken bottle, so I grabbed him and pulled him back. He tried to get away, he was still screaming and waving the bottle around and that's when he slashed me. But I... I don't think he even realized I was there. He did notice after a while, when I tried getting through to him. It worked... He let go of the bottle when I told him to. He didn't intend to hurt me."

The officer peered at him over his keyboard. "You sound very sure of yourself."

"He's told me before that he didn't want to hurt me, and... I also have had some proof that he does care for me as a friend."

"Was there a reason for him to tell you that he didn't want to hurt you, before?"

McNeil hesitated. "...Yes. Russell attacked me once."

"Yet you think he didn't intend to hurt you," dubiously remarked Edward.

"Yeah... It's a bit complicated. But Officer, it's different this time. He didn't see me coming up from behind, I don't think he could've guessed it was me."

"You say he's attacked you before. Why? You've told me that you'd befriended him because he was a regular at the zoo, why would he attack you?"

"It was in the beginning, before we really knew each other. We'd just met."

"Why did he do it?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know," flatly repeated Edward.

"I don't," earnestly said McNeil. "I used to think that he was an unstable kid and I just happened to be the unlucky target that day."

"Did you report this assault?"

"...Yes. It resulted in several months of community service for him which he had to do at the zoo."

"Was he unstable?"

"Well... Listen, Officer, I can't deny he's a weird kid. He doesn't think the way you'd expect a fourteen-year-old to think. He has odd reactions. But... I've noticed that most of the time, when he acts erratic, it's usually that there's something causing it. He... He gets afraid, you know?" McNeil sighed, frustrated. "Ah, I don't know if I'm explaining this correctly."

"So he attacked you, and yet when he returned to the zoo, you two became friendly."

"Yes... He apologized. He did the work he was supposed to do. I figured he was lonely and maybe needed someone to talk to. He's never tried to hurt me again."

"All right. So, you stopped Russell when he was about to attack his mother. What happened next?"

"After I managed to calm him down and he'd let go of the bottle, his mother tried to hurt him."

Edward held back a frown. Mrs. Seager had conveniently omitted that detail. "What did she do?"

McNeil's blue eyes slid slightly to the side like he was troubled just remembering it. "...She was going to choke him, I think. Something like that. I stopped her, too, before anything bad happened."

"You think? You're not sure that's what she was going for?"

He hesitated, and then slowly nodded to himself. "Her eyes when she grabbed him... I'm sure she wanted to hurt him. And, I mean... You saw the state of his back. It's not that improbable. I don't think."

Edward dipped his head in agreement, but kept silent as he continued typing. McNeil continued.

"His mother ran out of the bedroom and went to check on the man in the living room, but she didn't stay. I realized that I needed to help the people in there too and that's when..." McNeil's arms shifted like he'd started to wring his hands beneath the desk. "There was a lot of blood... The man's skull was cracked open. And on the couch, there was the woman, and she wasn't breathing. There..." He swallowed, his voice quieted. "There was blood between her legs."

The officer nodded, never removing his hands from the keyboard. "What did you do?"

"I called 911. They patched me through to the EMS and I was told to do chest compressions on her. Russell's mother had left, there was no one else there to help... I did... I did my best." His voice broke.

"I know, Mister McNeil."

"I don't know if she survived," he murmured.

Edward looked up. "I do know she's currently in a hospital bed, so yes, Mister McNeil. She's alive."

The man's shoulders sagged in relief. "Really?"

"Yes. She's not kicking, yet, but Yumi Bombers is a tough one. She'll get through this. She's got her version of the story to tell."

McNeil tipped his hooded head back, stared at the grey squares of the ceiling, and breathed: "Thank god."

"Thank you," said Edward.

McNeil looked back down. Both men stared at each other, a tentative moment of gratitude melded in the silence between them, and the young zookeeper faintly smiled. "I'm glad I could help."

The results of the crime scene analysis yielded a scenario which Edward had already suspected on his own: Mr. Seager had sexually assaulted and strangled Yumi, gotten hit in the back of the head, and ended up falling from his height down onto the table where he'd cracked his skull open and injured his neck. It was very probable that Russell Seager had attacked his father because he'd seen what he'd done to Yumi. Edward wasn't sure what had lead Russell to attack his mother next, but he could guess that it had to do with the way he'd been treated by both of his parents. Unfortunately, even if Russell's initial motive had been a noble attempt to save Yumi from his father, he'd assaulted his two parents and one of them was now comatose as a result. Edward knew that Mr. Seager's prognosis was not favorable. In the eyes of the law, what Russell had done was a severe crime.

Yumi's prognosis was better than Mr. Seager's, but her brain had suffered an extended period without oxygen and she'd yet to wake up. Edward hoped that she'd recover soon.

Russell was still being medically assessed and Edward had not been allowed any details on his health so far. He was supposed to go to the hospital in a few days to interrogate him so that meant the doctors estimated that the kid would be healthy enough to talk by then, but Edward knew it would be tough to hold up the impartial facade when he now knew what he knew about the circumstances in which Russell had comitted his crime.

About two days later, Edward learned that a woman had showed up at the police station with her son while he'd been off shift, both of them claiming that they wanted to give a statement concerning what had happened in the Seager case. The son was a classmate, apparently, and his mother also knew Russell because he'd come to their house many times over the years. Neither described him as a violent individual. This didn't mean much, obviously, since many criminals had never given their neighbors or even loved ones any reason to believe that they were capable of their crimes; but a quick perusal of the written statement told Edward that they now had further proof of Russell Seager's abuse at the hands of his father and mother, not only concerning the physical trauma, but also in regards to the lack of medical care he was provided at home. At one point, the son reported that Russell had been strangled by his father before, just like what had been done to Yumi. That was the point at which Edward cursed Mr. Seager out, aloud, in his office.

The classmate's mother had mentioned having contacted CPS not so long ago because she'd gotten proof of the source of Russell's current injuries. Edward found himself thinking that if this had happened earlier, maybe Yumi wouldn't have been unconscious in a hospital bed. It frustrated him to think how slow people were to pull the alarm when they suspected abuse. Then he thought about all the alerts CPS had not investigated thoroughly enough, all the mistakes justice had made, the false accusations that had lead to real charges and the real accusations that had lead to no charges at all. Of course people were reluctant to resort to such an unreliable system.

Edward Atkins had become a police officer to make things better, but sometimes working in the domain seriously made him want to burn everything down.

Yumi still hadn't woken up by the time Edward went to see Russell Seager.

The kid was not much more talkative than he'd been in front of his house. When Edward introduced himself again and started to explain why he was there, Russell asked him if he was finally going to prison. When he was told that there would be a detention hearing first, the kid looked away and almost looked disappointed. Maybe the slump of his shoulders was just fatigue. Edward could guess that it was tiring, not knowing what to expect with things dragging on like this. He wasn't allowed to ask for his medical file so he didn't know just how deep Russell's health issues ran. He could only imagine.

"I have to ask you some questions before anything else is decided. Can you tell me what happened that night?"

Russell didn't beat around the bush. Usually kids showed some hesitation to talk, but this one was rather odd, and he simply answered that he'd gotten angry and he'd wanted to kill everyone.

"So what did you do?"

Russell still didn't look up. His voice was low and steady when he described his actions, as if he was completely unfazed. Then, in a tone so certain that Edward suddenly wondered if he'd somehow gotten misinformed about the victims' state, Russell declared that he'd killed his father and caused Yumi's death and that he knew that he was going to go to jail no matter what.

Edward frowned. "Russell, they're not- didn't anyone tell you this? Officer Bombers and your father aren't dead. It's coma."

But Russell looked at him with a blank expression and empty blue eyes and stated that he'd killed them. Edward decided he'd have to talk to the doctors after this. Some things had to be cleared up.

"Why are you so sure of this?"

Russell lowered his gaze and didn't say anything.

"Tabasa McNeil told me you attacked him before. Have you tried to kill other people?"

He nodded and started giving Edward a list without being prompted. "Gardenia", a classmate, during her birthday party. "Cody", "Dogma", and their mother, a family working at the Morning Glory church, which Edward immediately linked to the suspected arson attempt. "Mireille", a vague nurse who Russell didn't volunteer any more information about.

"Hold on, you've tried to kill all of these people? Why?"

Russell shrugged and didn't answer the question. Instead, he said that he'd killed someone before. "Kantera", the suicide case which Edward remembered Russell had come to ask about, all those months ago, and which Yumi had tried to handle delicately.

"You're saying it wasn't a suicide?" incredulously asked Edward.

Russell answered that he was responsible for it, and wasn't this enough to make him a criminal? Didn't he deserve to go to jail no matter what?

Edward stared at him. Russell sounded like he believed what he was saying about Kantera to be the truth, but Edward had to keep in mind that he also thought that he'd killed Mr. Seager and Yumi. Maybe Russell was just a delusional kid. Edward couldn't even be sure that what Russell had said about attempting to kill all those other people was true. He didn't know about Gardenia or Mireille, but what if Russell had just read that article about the Morning Glory Church and integrated it in his erroneous beliefs of things he was responsible for? Then again, McNeil had been very clear that Russell had indeed assaulted him and caused a broken arm. Russell looked like a quiet, passive kid, but Edward couldn't let his guard down.

"Do you think you'd try to kill someone else?"

Russell answered that it wouldn't matter because he'd be in prison anyway. He wouldn't be able to hurt anyone. Everything would be better for everyone once he was in jail.

Edward stared at him from his spot in the chair next to his bed. "Do you think you'll be in prison all your life?"

Russell didn't answer.

Edward frowned, and then he straightened in his seat and said: "Listen, you may get jail as a sentence, but you're still a minor and you have attenuating circumstances. There is proof that you were abused by your parents, Russell. The judge will probably take that into account."

Russell shook his head.

"Why are you shaking your head?"

He wasn't abused. It wasn't true. It was just punishment, his dad had just punished him, and his mom hadn't touched him at all.

Edward's frown deepened. "Russell, there are pictures. Punishment or not, those injuries are serious. Believe me when I tell you that this kind of thing is not condoned by the law. As for your mother, she neglected you, and that's also abuse."

Russell just continued shaking his head and Edward saw the way he was gripping his bedsheets. He didn't understand why the kid was denying something that was so obvious to everyone involved in the case. It was impossible to read Russell's expression, and Edward was at a loss. The only reason he could think about was that Russell may have been trying to protect his parents, but why? He'd been angry enough to try to kill both of them, so why would he still persist in keeping the secret when it had already been blown wide open?

"Russell, even if you try to convince me that it didn't happen, it doesn't matter anymore. It's in the file. Your lawyer will use it to get you a lighter sentence, do you understand?"

Russell stopped shaking his head. He said he didn't understand. Why didn't the officer see that he'd only gotten those punishments because he'd done bad things? Why wasn't he already in jail?

The kid clearly viewed jail as the solution to this whole situation, and on top of that, he sounded convinced he'd deserved everything that his parents had done. Edward knew that it was common for abuse victims to believe they were at fault for said abuse. It was obvious that Russell had gigantic issues which hadn't only been induced by the bloodbath in his house. However, Edward Atkins was no shrink and it wasn't his job to deal with the kid's mental problems. He was just there to tell him how things were going to go, and so that was what he did.

When the officer stepped out of the hospital in the later afternoon, he wasn't sure that Russell had understood or even been willing to listen to anything he'd said. All Russell had insisted on was that he was guilty and that they had to punish him for it. Russell Seager's future lawyer sure had his work cut out for him.

Chapter Text

The Juvenile and Domestic Relations Court did not allow unrelated individuals to sit through the court hearing, and while Tabasa was allowed inside as witness, he did see that Chris and the woman accompanying him were turned away at the entrance. He'd seen another face on the way there which he couldn't quite place, a woman's, with green eyes and pinkish hair dressed in a charmingly old fashion. She hadn't tried to come close to the doors. She'd just been standing there, watching.

Russell was sitting with an officer and a man Tabasa assumed was his lawyer. It didn't seem like anyone had accompanied him for support, and no one was allowed to come close to him. It was the first time Tabasa had seen Russell since the incident several weeks ago. His heart sank when he saw the utterly blank look on the boy's face. There was a bruise, as well. A fading black eye. The lawyer was talking to Russell but he didn't seem to be listening. He looked in better health than last time, thankfully, but he was pale and the bags under his eyes were deep. And that bruise... Tabasa wondered where he'd gotten it. Russell looked so small sitting at the wide wooden desk between the two men.

Tabasa had not managed to get a lot of information about what was happening to everyone involved in the case. He only knew that Yumi Bombers was still alive thanks to Officer Atkins, and that Russell had been detained in custody to await for trial while the case was proceeding. This was his first court appearance, where he was to be judged for his actions. Tabasa didn't know how Russell was doing, if Officer Bombers had recovered yet, if the man with the broken skull had died, what Russell's mother was up to.

Tabasa looked around and saw Mrs. Seager sitting next to another woman a few rows away from him. Unease weighed heavily in his gut when he saw that way she was watching her son. She made him think of a harpy. Tabasa couldn't see the man with the broken skull anywhere, which either meant he'd died or was still in the hospital. Yumi Bombers wasn't here either.

The hearing started. Tabasa was not an expert on judicial matters, but he soon started thinking that he didn't like the way things were going. The prosecution was really laying it on thick: Russell had tried to kill his own parents, he'd pushed his father in a vegetative state, his actions had been extremely violent, he hadn't shown any remorse for them. Mrs. Seager was not on Russell's side when she was called to the stand. Tabasa had expected that, but it still made his heart ache to hear her accuse her son of the worst things.

When he was called up in turn, Tabasa tried not to go too much into detail about what he'd seen in that house. He didn't want Russell to be painted in a worse light than he already was. However, the prosecutor was quick to mention Tabasa's witness account. He quickly found himself wishing that he'd never mentioned the attack at the zoo to Officer Atkins. It was too late to take it back now. He couldn't do anything as the prosecutor detailed the record of Russell's past violence and how there'd been no notion of self-defense back then to excuse his actions.

Russell didn't look up from the desk. He seemed unaware of what was happening around him. Absent.

Tabasa's turn ended and he was told to return to his seat, and then the prosecutor began to question Russell himself. Tabasa realized with mounting worry that Russell wasn't trying to defend himself at all. In fact, it almost seemed like he wanted the judge to find him guilty. Tabasa could see the way his lawyer was staring at him, tense, a hand over his mouth, as if he'd thought this would happen and had warned Russell against it beforehand, and Russell just wasn't doing as he'd said. His lawyer had to interrupt him several times but it was clear that the damage was being done anyway.

"No further questions, your Honor," concluded the prosecutor. He looked like he hadn't expected it to go this smoothly. Tabasa was afraid what it could mean.

The defense attorney stood up and began arguing on Russell's behalf, claiming that his mental state was unstable, that he'd been pushed to lash out that evening because of a culmination of events that had pushed him over the edge. He recapped the incident, not just from the moment Russell had grabbed his weapon; but starting before that, clearly spelling out what Mr. Seager had done to Yumi Bombers that evening, painting a picture of the nightmare Russell had stumbled upon. He insisted heavily on the traumatic nature of the scene, pointed out how courageous it had been on Russell's part to try and save the officer, and tried to convince the jury that all the stress and horror would have severely impacted a child's mind and lead him into making poor decisions.

The notion of abuse was put forward next. The defense attorney was presenting it as the underlying cause to Russell's shows of violence, including Tabasa's assault. The proof came in the shape of a CPS report, multiple accounts, and even pictures, and Tabasa felt the tension in the room ratchet up a few notches at the sight of Russell's wounds. They were just as horrifying in pictures as they'd been when Tabasa had first seen them. The judge reacted to the displayed evidence with a frown; hopefully, that was a good sign for Russell.

The defense pushed the argument further by using the pyschological evaluation which had been requested by the judge, calling Russell's mother to the stand, and disclosing some parts in Russell's medical files, notably those in which Russell himself had talked about his living conditions at home and the role his parents had both played in it. When Russell's mother was questioned about how deeply she'd neglected her own son, it was obvious that she was only this defensive because she didn't want to face consequences for it.

The whole process was long and stressful, and then they had to wait for the deliberation, and Tabasa wished more than ever that he could just go over there and talk to Russell. He'd learned things in this court that he wished he'd noticed earlier so that none of this would have ever happened. He saw that Russell's mother and the woman beside her were both shooting bad looks in the boy's direction. Russell's behavior was still alarmingly blank. He'd had his head bowed the entire time and wasn't reacting to anything around him.

When it was finally time for the verdict, Tabasa held his breath. Deep inside he already knew what would happen.

"We, the jury, find the defendant, Russell Seager, guilty of felony battery..."

His heart dropped and he listened, helpless, as the woman droned on about numbers and names and technicalities. She stopped to let the judge convict Russell of his offense. The room was completely silent. The man lifted his gavel, sentenced Russell to six months in an institution for juvenile criminals paired with court mandated mental health care, and let it bang against the wood. Tabasa felt a visceral reaction of protest that caused him to shoot up from his seat. No words came out of his open mouth. There was nothing he could say in this courtroom where the gavel had already fallen. Russell was getting locked up for his crimes.

Chapter Text

Copperfield was a big rectangular building with bright white and red walls on the outside, which Russell only saw for a minute, and a yellowish paintjob on the inside, which Russell grew used to seeing every day. There were a few wall stickers here and there in an effort to liven up the place. The ceilings were either brown wood or off-white tiles, and the ground was white linoleum. The bed frames were greenish metal, the mattresses were a washed-out blue, the doors were gleaming white. The rooms were wide and empty. The place smelled of sweat, stale air, soap, cleaning supplies, upholstery, food, or fresh air depending on the room. Russell's outfit was a white T-shirt, a pale green jumpsuit, white socks, and open plastic sandals. The institution for juvenile offenders wasn't very different from the facility he'd had to stay in before his court appearance, except that it was generally a bit quieter in here. Or maybe it was just that the voices weren't as rough nor as deep. The rules were strict, staff was everywhere, there was no free time to roam about like there had been in the other prison.

Russell's brain was numb during the first weeks he spent in the building. He complied with everything he was told to do. It was easier having an empty head for all of it. Easier not to think when he had to stand up against the wall and hands patted him down. Easier not to think when they asked him why he was here. Easier not to think about why they'd taken a mugshot and put an ID bracelet around his wrist. Easier to obey when they told him the rules, like calling them sir or ma'am. Easier not to think of what was outside. Easier not to think of what had happened.

He'd been here for a while, now. Russell set down his fork next to his plate and rose from his seat to go put his tray away. Food was repetitive, mostly cold, and as bland as everything else in the institution. A lot of the other kids complained that they were still hungry even after they'd eaten everything on their tray. He didn't know, because he was used to small quantities at home so he generally didn't eat much. Russell was stopped by a hand on his arm as he walked between the rows of tables.

"Hey, you're not finishing that?" asked the boy who'd grabbed him. He was eyeing the food left in the plate. Russell had eaten part of the mashed potatoes and ended his lunch there. Lately he found that he preferred to avoid the foods that required munching, because they were tiring.

Russell answered with a mere shake of his head.

"Give me it."

He complied, and the other boy let go. Russell continued walking towards the pile of dirty trays.

Life in the institution was a boring routine, entirely structured and devoid of meaning. Russell kept mostly to himself. He didn't have a choice but to join the other inmates at breakfast, lunch, dinner, school, exercise, and therapy group; but he avoided interacting with them the rest of the time, which was the bigger part of how he spent his days. Russell saw the way most of the other kids made groups together, just like it had been in regular school. There were fights and alliances. Russell didn't even try. He never made the effort to memorize names. It was too tiring.

Russell walked out in the courtyard with everyone else for their hour of outdoor exercise. He went to find a hard bench to sit on alone. He stared at the other kids running around.

He hadn't had a medical reason to be excused, so at first he'd been scolded for not participating, like standing still during dodgeball and not following his team during soccer. Russell didn't see a point to it. No one made passes at him, and being an easy target during dodgeball meant he got to be eliminated and sit on the ground for the rest of the hour. He was tired, he didn't want to run around. When the officers and the facility counselor had realized that his lethargy wasn't rebellion as much as it simply was the way he was, they'd given up on pushing him to kick the ball with the rest. He got called the weird kid a lot. He was fine with it.

The benches were hard and the courtyard was noisy, but at least it was a place where he could get fresh air. When the benches were occupied by other people, he tried to find an empty spot wherever he could find shadows to hide in alone and sat on the ground with his arms around his knees. His back hurt. At times like these he'd stare at the others for however long they were allowed to stay outside, and then, once back inside, wouldn't remember what the others had been doing.

Sometimes he got pulled into the game even if he didn't want to. There was something called 'smear the queer' that the others played when the counselors withdrew the soccer ball as punishment. They didn't give him a choice to play when the makeshift ball of wadded clothes landed next to his bench. You were supposed to pick it up if you were closest to it, and that meant you'd get tackled. Even if he didn't pick up the ball, they pretended that he had. His hands and knees were scarred because of that game. Russell didn't like it at all.

The officers told them that the outdoor exercise was over, so Russell slid off the bench and regrouped with the others. It was time for clean up and chores next. He kept his head down and didn't talk to anyone, as usual. There was arguing somewhere on his left but he didn't look. His thoughts wandered off a lot, like his mind could never stay in his body for very long. The thoughts escaped and floated about in a dull fog. When someone shook him by the shoulder, he realized that the others were leaving. Some of the kids were looking at him oddly, others were snickering. He was the only one still holding onto his broom. The staff member took it from him and told him to leave with the rest. Russell obeyed. He saw drying blood in the hallway. There must have been a fight.

During quiet time, he couldn't find an isolated spot to read. He sat down at a table with others but didn't initiate contact. He never did. If they tried to talk to him, he'd either keep his answers short and detached, or he'd ignore them depending on his mood.

He didn't look at anyone in the showers. He never did. He knew people liked to stare at his back and he could hear whispers, sometimes, speculating how his skin had ended up so mangled. Russell didn't care. He was good at not caring.

Russell was allowed the hour of evening activities because he was one of the well-behaved inmates. These activities usually consisted in games or, rarely, making phone calls. He did neither. He preferred to sit in his corner and read while the others played cards and watched television.

His roommates had tried getting him to talk when they'd all met for the first time. They'd wanted to know his name and age and what he was locked in for. Russell hadn't been in the mood for so much talking, so he'd quickly resorted to ignoring them once he'd decided that the conversation was over. One of them had gotten angry at him for it and tried to fight him, and the others had stopped him because it was late and the noise would get them in trouble. The angry roommate's name was Cory. The others were Johnny and Ben. They didn't like Russell because they found him weird, and they were quick to call him names. Cory shoved him sometimes. Johnny and Ben were calmer. They all picked on him, but they never hurt him enough for it to be dangerous, because they knew it would land them in trouble.

Some of the other kids bothered Russell too, because he was one of the smaller inmates, so it was easy to push him around. It usually stopped fast when they'd either get caught by a guard or grow bored for lack of reaction on Russell's part, but it was a regular occurrence. He felt like he deserved it. He felt that he deserved more. It had been louder and more violent during his time detained in custody, where he'd awaited trial, where there'd been adult criminals too. That had felt like a place someone like him belonged to. Things had happened there, things he'd deserved, like it had been at home with Dad and Mom. But now he was here in Copperfield and those things didn't happen anymore.

Russell curled up in his bed at night and stared at the wall in the dark. He couldn't sleep and he was bored, always bored. Boredom was ever-present for the inmates in Copperfield, even for those who, like Russell, didn't feel much of anything. It was unfair that nothing felt like it mattered, and yet boredom still managed to acutely grip Russell in these moments of lucid emptiness.

His back hurt.

It hadn't always hurt like this. The tugging, crawling, constant pain had appeared little by little. The doctors at the hospital had done their best using antibiotics and creams and bandages and sutures, but it had been too late to truly fix the wounds. When Russell had left them untreated, the infection that had settled in the furrows of his skin had hindered the healing process and deepened the damage. Now he had scars. They felt creaky and his skin was sensitive where his clothes brushed against them, and they made it harder to curl into a ball than before, even though he still did it. Russell never complained. He didn't want the guards to pay too much attention to him. They weren't particularly nice or mean, but he just didn't want anyone to look at him. Russell hoped that maybe he'd fade, eventually, if no one saw him anymore.

Russell thought most often about Dad, Mom, and Yumi when he had to go see the therapist or when he got nightmares. He'd been getting more of them lately. A lot of times he'd wake up to his roommates throwing things at him so that he'd stop screaming, like books or bundled up clothes. Russell understood. It wasn't just because they disliked him. He didn't think Chris would have liked it either if Russell screamed him awake all the time.

Russell thought about other people too, sometimes. Like Dogma, and Cody, and Deirdra. Like Kantera and Mireille. Like Chris and his mom. Like Gardenia and her dad. Like Tabasa. Like Granma.

Auntie had come to visit him, once, when he'd still been awaiting trial. It was strange to see her there on the other side of the window, to hear her voice coming from the round speaker between them, because the only times he usually saw her was family meetings once a year. Auntie watched him with the same brown eyes as Mom's. Even when she wasn't talking, it felt the same as when she was calling him worthless out loud. He could see his reflection in the glass, pale face, messy hair, black eye, scabs and all. One of the adults in jail had gotten angry at him. Most of the time they didn't like how he stared. This one hadn't liked getting ignored.

"My sister should never have given birth to you. She brought you up to be such a piece of human garbage... To think you tried to kill your own mother." Auntie shook her head. "I'm only here because they said someone had to come talk to you about what's going to happen. She didn't want to do it herself, of course. She doesn't want you anymore. It may take some time until it's official, but you won't be able to go back to her no matter what. She won't let you."

Russell stared. Auntie stared back. Then, her lips twisted.

"You don't care at all, do you?"

Russell looked down at his lap and just felt empty.

"Something really is wrong with you. I always knew you were a worthless child. Well, I'm sure you didn't expect her to keep you after what you did. Oh, and I already said I wouldn't take you in either. I have enough on my plate as it is with my own family. You understand."

Russell quietly nodded.

"Good," said Auntie, and her bag clinked when she stood up. "Well, bye-bye."

Then she was gone. Russell stayed in his seat. The guard came up to him and put his hand on his shoulder so that he would climb down, and Russell obeyed, and he let the guard guide him away from the room without a word.

The therapist he had to see was a woman called Doctor Cardinal. She liked wearing orange and pink tops, long puffy sleeves, her white doctor coat, and jangly earrings with gold and feathers. Her hair was blond and straight, cut above her shoulders, and she had thin lips and a serious expression. She didn't smile very much. He had therapy sessions with her once a week. Russell didn't like to go, because she had things to say even when he said nothing at all; and when he did have something to say, she always turned it into something important and serious, even though he didn't think it was important or serious at all.

He had to see her because they all said that something was wrong with his head. Russell didn't really understand. He just felt like himself most of the time, even if he was quieter than before, even if he cared less about everything. He figured that he was like this because he was tired. Russell was always tired. The therapist said that depression made people tired. Russell just thought that maybe it was because he didn't sleep enough. The therapist also said that not sleeping enough could be linked to depression. She was probably right. Russell didn't really care where it all came from, he just felt tired.

She said group therapy was important and that he had to talk with the others. Russell did so, at first. It was easier to do what he was asked. Only, it gradually turned out that it was easier to just listen. Russell slowly stopped giving longer answers in favor of shorter ones. Doctor Cardinal didn't seem too happy about that. Russell didn't think that was fair. He was talking, after all, and that was what she'd asked of him. He couldn't help that it tired him out to talk so much.

"Did you hurt yourself again, Russell?"

Russell blinked. He was in Dr. Cardinal's wide, white office. His gaze drifted to the painting of a sunset above her head, a little to the left. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or awake. Time didn't flow as smoothly as before. It was like moving through thick fog and occasionally becoming aware of the place and moment he was in. His back hurt.

"Russell," Dr. Cardinal called out to him.

Russell looked at her.

"Did you do this yourself?" she asked, pointing at his neck.

Russell brought his fingers to his throat and felt irregular furrows beneath his fingertips. His skin felt sore. He vaguely remembered sobbing himself awake two nights ago, clutching at his aching throat. He nodded.

"Why did you do it this time?"

Russell let his hand drop to his lap and softly said that it was the same as last time.

"Nightmares? So you didn't do it on purpose."

He shook his head.

"It must be painful. I think we really should try and make sure this doesn't happen again. What do you think?"

He shrugged.

"You don't care?"

Russell returned his gaze to the sunset picture.

"All right. Well, I'm sure you know that it isn't a good thing that you're hurting yourself in your sleep, especially since it's getting frequent. Do you have any ideas to stop this from happening?"

He didn't answer.

"Gloves, maybe?"

He didn't answer. Dr. Cardinal let out a faint sigh and her armchair creaked a bit when she leaned forward on the desk.

"Russell, it's been two months since I've been seeing you, and in these two months you've been acting less and less involved in your own sessions. The counselors also think that you've grown too quiet. You used to answer them in words more often. Not to mention, your growing avoidance to participating in group therapy is glaringly obvious. You used to be able to tell us what you'd experienced. You managed to do it by blunting your emotions, but even that coping mechanism doesn't seem to work anymore."

The sun was setting over a city. It was a city with tall glittering skyscrapers and elegant bridges stretching across a wide river. There were no traces of nature in this office, not a single plant, not even in the pictures. The decoration was more about light tricks. Dr. Cardinal had a pretty transparent water clock on her desk. Its insides were made of fluorescent pink and yellow plastic, and right now there was no bubbles flowing, but Russell had turned it over once because she had told him he could do that. That had been two weeks into his court-mandated therapy sessions. He'd still been curious back then. Nowadays he didn't feel curious about anything at all.

"It's very hard to me to tell what you're feeling since you don't tell me anymore, except that you're tired all the time. You don't eat nor sleep very well. You don't try to socialize. The counselors say that you don't take your medicine correctly. I think that it's almost as if you think you shouldn't treat your depression, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that was the case given how hard you are on yourself. I am here to help you, Russell, but I can't help you if you refuse to let me."

Russell liked light tricks. He remembered liking the pretty colored glass in the Morning Glory Church which he'd almost burned down one night. He didn't even remember why he'd wanted to do that, or rather, he couldn't remember the significance of it. He knew it had been because of what he'd felt back then. It seemed pointless now. He didn't like himself for having wanted to do that. He didn't like himself for a lot of reasons, but that wasn't a very strong feeling he held in comparison to his certainty that he shouldn't even have been allowed to exist in the first place.

"It's very concerning that you don't see the problem with your self-harm, for instance. The fact that you don't feel inclined to stop it tells me that you might put yourself in greater danger down the line, and whether it was done willingly or unwillingly, the consequences would be the same."

His birth had been a mistake, and after that, his existence had only brought about suffering. Granma had said she loved Russell, but she had died because Dad hadn't been looking after her, because Dad had been getting drunk, because Dad had been too upset about having a child he didn't want. Dad said it was Russell's fault that she'd fallen so sick, because Granma should have known better than to spend so much time and energy caring for him when she was already old and weak.

"You never tell me that you have suicidal thoughts, but you've told me that you didn't care if you died. While I still don't believe that you would try to take your own life, your more recent behavior is getting rather concerning."

After Granma, no one had wanted him for a long time. He couldn't make friends. He was always the weird kid. Chris had only approached him years later because he was an outcast just like him, because Chris didn't want to be alone. He'd thought that Russell wouldn't refuse because Russell was alone too. Russell hadn't refused, but it wasn't for that reason. Loneliness was familiar and safe to Russell. He'd accepted Chris only because he'd been curious why someone else was that lonely, and then he'd stayed because Chris had a nice home. Their relationship was built on using each other. Chris used Russell for the drug dealing and for the pretense of having a companion, and Russell used Chris for the access to shelter and safety when things got hairy at home, or even food, sometimes. He didn't think he missed Chris, given that he didn't feel much of anything, and he was certain that Chris didn't miss him.

"I suspect that your depression is not only a severe form, but that it may also be the manifestation of some deeper issue. Given that you refuse to take your treatment in a consistent manner, I'm unable to assess if it is effective."

As far as Russell knew, every friendly relationship was built on the same sort of dynamic that he had with Chris. He hadn't been completely conscious of that before what had happened with Kantera and then Mireille, but he wouldn't have to feel the same way ever again, because now he knew exactly what friendship had to entail. It was just that, because he'd gotten lucky with Chris where they'd both found an advantage to keeping the other as a friend, he hadn't known that sometimes only one person got what they wanted and the other was simply used. Now he knew. It was all one big headache, and for someone as tired as him, he thought it was better not to have friends.

"Finally, your increased and repeated instances of self-harm make me worry that this is an escalation of your condition. In light of all of this, I have been considering the option of hospitalizing you."

Russell's reflexes jumped like a rusty spring. He quickly looked up and shook his head. He couldn't go to the hospital.

Dr. Cardinal's posture changed upon seeing Russell's brief burst of movement. It became sharper, more attentive. Her grey gaze was like a hawk's. "Why not?"

Russell didn't answer.

Dr. Cardinal focused on the computer at her side. Her tanned finger scrolled the mouse wheel. It was quiet for a while, and then she spoke again. "It says here that when you were at the hospital for your ulcer, you already told the psychiatry resident that you usually avoided medical establishments." She let go of the mouse and looked at Russell. "Where did you get the idea that it was better to avoid them?"

Russell lowered his gaze. He stared at the keyboard.

"You can't get in trouble for answering me, Russell," she reminded him. "This is just like everything else you've told me before."

He shrugged.

"Are you scared of hospitals?"

Russell considered the question. He didn't like hospitals, but they didn't scare him. He shook his head.

"Is it that someone told you not to go?"

He hesitated.

"Who was it?"

Russell looked down and started plucking at a wayward thread peeking out of the lining of his jumpsuit.

"Russell, it won't get you in trouble to tell me this. I would just like to understand why you don't want to be hospitalized, despite me saying that I believe that it would be the better course of action for you. I don't intend to force you into it because I don't think that there is an imminent danger to your life in the current context, but for future reference, I need to understand what motivates your refusal. It will be easier on you if I can adjust the care you'll receive to what you've told me before, if one day I do need to do something without your assent. I'm not saying that it will happen, but it's a precaution. Everything we do here, we do for a reason. Do you understand?"

Russell slowly nodded. Then, after a moment of silence, he admitted that his father had told him not to go to the hospital because it would get his parents in trouble if he did.

"So you developed this habit of refusing hospitals no matter the situation you were in. I understand," said Dr. Cardinal. "However, Russell, you realize that going to the hospital for better psychiatric care will not affect your parents whatsoever now, don't you?"

Russell tugged on the thread. It wouldn't give.

"And you wouldn't stay there indeterminately. It would only be so that more than one professional can assess your needs. I think it is important that we determine what illness you have, and that we establish better guidelines for you to follow in terms of treatment and self-care. Do you agree?"

There was another thread a few stitches below that was a bit loose. Russell thought about cutting them, but scissors weren't allowed.

"Russell?"

He shrugged.

"Is that a yes, or a no? I need to know if you're giving explicit consent," insisted Dr. Cardinal.

Russell thought she shouldn't have been so patient and concerned towards a criminal, but by now he'd had enough sessions with her to know that Dr. Cardinal never dropped the plans she suggested. Even if he said no now, she'd bring it up again later, again and again, and wouldn't stop until he said yes. He would have to go to that hospital eventually, because she wouldn't allow him to keep putting off his medicine forever and maybe he really would be forced to go in a matter of weeks.

So Russell nodded, and that was good enough for Dr. Cardinal.

Russell was brought to the hospital a few days later and put in a room that was meant for criminals, lockable on the outside so that he didn't need to stay in chains on the inside. They told him he would be staying for a week. The place reminded him of when he'd had stitches in his stomach, after his operation, waiting for the police to come and throw him in prison.

The very first night he dreamed about throwing up blood in the middle of the road, where Poppy had been crushed under a tire, and Yumi's body was hanging from his red scarf with blood dripping between her thighs, down into the glistening mess of flayed flesh and gray matter that covered the ground and threatened to swallow him up. He woke to a nurse quickly and firmly telling him to calm down, that there was no need to scream, that he was safe at the hospital. Russell barely had the time to try and regain control over his wheezing and crying before a doctor walked into the room and asked him why he'd freaked out.

Russell explained that he'd had a nightmare. The doctor asked what it was about. Russell described the bodies and the blood.

The doctor asked if he dreamed of other things. Russell said he dreamed about choking.

The doctor asked if it was how he'd gotten the scratches on his neck. Russell said that he sometimes woke up trying to get rid of the thing wrapped around his throat.

The doctor asked if these were recurrent nightmares. Russell said sometimes.

The doctor asked how often 'sometimes' meant. Russell said about once a week, but sometimes it was three nights in a row.

The doctor asked if he felt particularly distressed since coming to the hospital. Russell said no.

The doctor asked him if he felt strange. Russell said that he felt more disconnected from his body than usual.

The doctor asked him if he always felt disconnected from his body, usually. Russell said yes, but he also explained that it wasn't so bad, and that it wasn't as serious as the doctor seemed to think that it was.

The doctor asked about flashbacks, which Russell didn't think he had.

The doctor asked if Russell often had upsetting memories that suddenly got into his head, and Russell said yes.

The doctor asked a lot of questions. Russell didn't remember all of them.

He was handed pills, and when he refused to take them, they spent an hour trying to convince him. He even thought they'd force him to do it. His stomach started to hurt. They gave up eventually.

The days melded together in some kind of gray blur. His back always hurt.

The doctor came to talk to him often. He asked him questions about the crime and what Russell had seen in his house, before and during it. He also asked about how Russell felt about everything nowadays, and how he felt when he thought about the bodies especially, and how he felt when he talked about it. The thing was that Russell didn't think he felt anything. It was like describing a scene he'd read in a book. He didn't care, hence, it didn't matter if he talked about it... and yet, that had become harder to do. He remembered everything that he'd seen so he didn't understand why he couldn't just describe it like before. He didn't want to shy away from his responsibility. He was responsible for it all, he should have been able to talk about his own crime.

The doctor once asked him why he thought that he shouldn't exist, even though Russell didn't remember telling him that. He answered anyway. It was the way he felt. It was the truth. There was no other explanation for it.

Russell was let go at the end of the week with a different prescription for antidepressants, advice to seek things called cognitive behavioral therapy and dialectical behavior therapy, and a diagnosis of major depression, depersonalisation-derealisation disorder, and "PTSD still to be ruled out". Dr. Cardinal looked like she'd expected all of it. Russell didn't feel like going to the hospital had helped at all, because he still didn't want to take the stupid pills and he still just wanted to be left alone. Dr. Cardinal didn't seem bothered that he kept refusing the medicine despite what they'd said at the hospital. She made it sound like the behavioral therapy was the actual important part of the treatment. Russell supposed that was fine, if that meant that she was getting off his back about taking the pills.

His back always hurt.

Despite the therapy, or maybe because of it, he still had nightmares and he still isolated himself. He thought about Yumi and his parents a lot more often, even thought he tried to avoid those thoughts. He started feeling a constant tingling at his nape, like there was a heavy cloud hovering above him, threatening to explode into thunder and lightning at any moment. It reminded him of how he was always listening to the sounds his dad made around the house. He slept worse than before. Nights were never quiet in the institution and the noises made his heart jump into his throat.

He wasn't indifferent to getting pushed around anymore. Fear roiled inside of him for hours after the fact. He kept thinking about Dad, and the beasts, and the other criminals. Dr. Cardinal explained to him that it was normal for him to be experiencing these things after everything he'd gone through, that it wasn't sustainable for the mind to ignore feelings like these forever. Russell wished he could have his old indifference back. Even the fog he was lost in during most days didn't help to attenuate all of the fear.

By the time Russell reached the four-month mark of his sentence, him and Dr. Cardinal had been working hard enough during the sessions that he hadn't been losing more of his words, had better ways to try and calm himself down after a nightmare, and had gotten used to self-monitoring so he could share with her the patterns of his thoughts and behaviors. It wasn't perfect, and Russell wasn't sure if anything he did for the sessions was worth it, since he firmly believed that someone who never should have been born wasn't worth anything; but Dr. Cardinal said they were making a lot of progress and she made it sound like a very good thing.

Russell missed the streets of his home town and he missed Chris, even if he knew that Chris probably didn't miss him in the same way. Russell even missed Tabasa, despite how hard he tried to convince himself that nothing good could come out of a friendship with another 'nice' adult. He was lonely. He was afraid. He was bored. He thought about the zoo and the aquarium a lot. He wanted to peel off this jumpsuit and white T-shirt and plastic sandals, he wanted to put on his own clothes and go outside and amble down along the sidewalk. He hadn't left his unit again since his trip to and back from the hospital. The other inmates got to leave the unit when they had a visit, but only family members were allowed to visit, and no one came to visit Russell.

This was why he was very surprised when one of the guards came to fetch him, saying that someone was there for him. It couldn't have been someone from his family. Russell knew that no one from his family wanted anything to do with him anymore. That had to mean that someone who wasn't family had been allowed to come inside to see Russell.

Chapter Text

Tabasa didn't know what to do. He'd tried calling Copperfield so he could talk to Russell, but phone calls were complicated, and the very few he managed to get patched through were never answered. He'd asked the establishment if he could come in person, but only family was allowed to visit. He'd tried gleaning details about Russell's situation from the police, but Officer Atkins had told him that the case was out of their hands now that the trial was over. Tabasa couldn't stop thinking about it. His green coat was still faintly stained with blood where Russell had desperately grabbed onto him, eyes blown wide with fear, face pale with illness.

He kept remembering the sound of Russell's voice begging him not to tell anyone about the wounds on his back, the feeling of his thin body slumping in his arms, his own fear that Russell was slipping away on that gurney in the ambulance, that Russell was dying and he hadn't done anything to stop this from happening before it was too late; how small Russell had been in that huge courtroom, how blank his face had remained, devoid of fear and of any other emotion even when the sentence had fallen upon him, like he was gone, like something inside of him had been switched off for good.

A heavy, cold feeling constantly lingered in his gut. Tabasa wondered what was becoming of Russell in that institution. Would the court-mandated therapy help? Or would the boy stepping out of Copperfield in six months be the same as the one who'd stood in that courtroom, empty and absent? Tabasa sometimes thought about Russell's mother. He'd never seen her look at her son with anything resembling a mother's love. She'd shown no despair, no grief over what he'd done to her and her husband; only anger. Tabasa had been watching her during the trial. He'd spun around when they'd shown the pictures of Russell's abuse. She'd shown no remorse, no shame over the state of her son's back. Nothing about her reaction indicated that she cared about what her husband had done. She'd known. She'd never done anything to stop it.

Tabasa couldn't imagine that Russell would be allowed to return home after serving his sentence. He couldn't imagine what would become of Russell if he wasn't allowed to return home, either. Tabasa didn't know if Russell had any family aside from his parents. Would anyone accept him, knowing that he'd tried to murder both his parents? Reading up on reentry for young offenders didn't give him a lot to work with, because most of the situations considered that these young offenders had a family to return to. Where did they go if they didn't have one? These concerns occupied his thoughts so much that eventually, a month after Russell had been convicted of felony battery and gotten sent to the detention center, Tabasa decided to call Officer Atkins for guidance. He didn't know who else to ask, and it made him feel a bit more sure of himself to talk to an officer who was close to his age.

"Child protection's already involved," explained Officer Atkins on the phone. "Usually, they try to get the kid back with their family."

Tabasa frowned, disturbed. "They'd do that even after what happened?"

He could hear the grimace in the officer's voice. "Not the best, but that's just the way things are done. The system always operates like this."

"What if his mother doesn't want him back? You saw the way she treated him."

"Then they'll try to look for an alternate placement. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, you name it."

"But they'd know what Russell did, and what if they refused?"

"Well, then he'd probably get placed in foster care. Group homes exist too. That'd depend on how he behaves in the institution. Even then, CPS case managers generally try to attempt reunification more than once."

"Why? That makes no sense! It's obvious that it would be harmful for Russell if he went back to his mother!"

"I know, Mister McNeil," said Officer Atkins. His voice sounded flat. There was nothing he could do, and there was nothing Tabasa could do, and they just had to accept the nonsensical nature of these proceedings. They were silent for a moment.

Tabasa asked: "Are his parents going to be punished for what they did?"

"It's very likely."

"Then CPS couldn't put him back with his mother, right?"

"If his parents' guardianship was revoked, no, but decisions like that take time to be implemented. And when the parents lose their rights, the kid becomes a ward of the state, so they have to live in foster homes or group homes until they turn 18. Then they're aged out of the system and have to look after themselves."

"All of this makes it sound like the system tries to make their life miserable more than anything else," resentfully said Tabasa, his chest growing hot and stuffy with frustration. He'd heard stories about foster homes, and they did nothing to reassure him about Russell's fate. After everything the kid had suffered through, it all felt deeply unfair that his future was still so grim. "What if he lands in another abusive family?"

"It's like everything else, Mister McNeil. There's some good, and there's some bad, and we can't know in advance what it'll be for these kids."

"There shouldn't be any bad foster homes to begin with!"

A heavy pause followed Tabasa's ouburst. He shrunk on himself when he realized that he was behaving very out of turn.

"I'm sorry, Officer Atkins."

"For yelling directly into the phone? Trust me, I'm used to it."

"I'm very sorry. I know you're just doing your job, I shouldn't shout at you." Tabasa took in a deep breath to calm himself down, and he tugged on his hair ornament. The familiar gesture was soothing. He repeated: "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I understand that you're worried for this kid. Yumi has a soft spot for him too."

"... How is she?"

"Well, she woke up the other day, so she's doing better."

Tabasa grabbed the phone with both hands and leaned forwards. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's a huge relief. She's not talking much and she spends a lot of time sleeping, but I think she's going to pull through."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Thanks again for saving her life."

Tabasa felt his face grow warm. He didn't know how to react to something like this, and he felt awkward when he answered: "I just did what I was told to do."

"You were there when no one else was, and you did help her." There was another silence during which Tabasa didn't know what to say, and then Officer Atkins said: "I've got to go, Mister McNeil, but call again if you need anything else."

"All right," said Tabasa.

"Have a nice day."

"You too."

Tabasa hung up and didn't move for a while. Then he pushed himself off his desk and headed out of his office. His break was over. As he grabbed the buckets of feed for the giraffes, he decided that he needed to know more about Russell's future. He felt responsible for not having acted sooner. He felt responsible for the kid, as crazy as that sounded coming from a guy who had no notable connection to Russell other than being his almost-murder victim and only barely managing to befriend him. Tabasa was way out of his comfort zone with all of this, but someone had to try to look out for Russell.

A week later, Tabasa went to directly confront Russell's mother. He didn't want to go back to that house, no one in their right mind would probably ever want that in a situation like his, but he didn't know how else to contact her. The doorbell was broken, so he had to knock on the door. As he stood before the house, waiting, the cold foreboding feeling that had sprouted in his gut on his way there made itself impossible to ignore. He hated this place. He wanted to run away. It would be the reasonable thing to do to drop everything related to Russell, after everything that had happened, but Tabasa knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he abandoned the kid now. He'd gone past the point of no return months ago, when he'd asked Russell to come back to the zoo even after the kid had completed his community service.

The door opened to reveal Russell's mother dressed in a loose T-shirt and dirty sweatpants. Her eyes were bloodshot and her long hair was greasy. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed.

"What?" she snapped.

"Um," said Tabasa. "Hello, Mrs. Seager. I'm Tabasa McNeil... I was there when... the incident happened."

She eyed him up and down, and leaned against the doorframe. "What do you want, McNeil?"

"I came here because I wanted to talk about Russell."

Her features twisted with hatred. "I'm not talking about that crazy little shit. I don't want anything to do with him, I already told them."

Tabasa had no idea who she was talking about, and the state she was in put him on edge, but he was here and he couldn't back down now. "What are you going to do with him, then?"

"I said I didn't want to talk about him. Get the fuck out."

She turned and started to close the door, but Tabasa surged forth and stuck his foot in the doorjamb. "Isn't there someone who can look after him? Family?"

Russell's mother glared at him. "Who would want a psycho like him? Dump him in the foster care system, see if anyone gives a shit."

Tabasa stared at her like she'd just struck him. He couldn't imagine what it would've been like for Russell to have such an uncaring mother, how it would have felt to grow up in such a hostile environment. The further Tabasa sank down this dirty rabbit hole, the easier it became to understand Russell's behavior. He shook his head and slowly said: "You're... a terrible person."

An ugly grin split her features and she started cackling, and then she jerked towards him and shouted in his face: "Get off your high horse, you're not the one whose life got ruined by that kid! You don't know shit about me! You don't get to judge me!"

Tabasa flinched away. He hated getting yelled at. His ears were ringing, his blood was thrumming, his gut was doing somersaults. He wanted to bolt, but the thought of Russell getting out of that detention center alone and ending up in some stranger's house rooted his feet to the ground. "Mrs. Seager, I care about Russell. I care about... I care about what will happen to him in the foster care system."

"Well maybe you should adopt him, then," she spat at him.

"I would if I could," he retorted without thinking.

"Oh, would you now? I haven't heard anything about that. Or are you just trying to act like you're better than me?"

"No, that's not what I'm doing," protested Tabasa.

He'd never given it any thought, but now, he realized that he could've looked into it. He didn't have a high salary, but he had savings. He was already living in an apartment that could be big enough for two if they were well organized, and maybe it could be a temporary solution until Russell found something better. He hadn't seen a single mention online about such a possibility, but... Tabasa looked at the woman with trepidation, feeling like it was dangerous to keep pushing, but still unable to let it go. "Do you know about a way for Russell to be looked after by someone who isn't a family member?"

A malevolent, cupid light appeared in Mrs. Seager's eyes and she smiled at him again. "Took a shine to him, hm? Maybe I'll let you have him. How about ten grand?"

It took Tabasa a moment to understand what she was suggesting. His eyes widened in shock. "Are you trying to sell me your parental rights?"

"Parental rights?" She cackled again and waved the notion away. "Like that's worth anything. But sure, if that's what you want, you fucking creep."

Tabasa's stomach was a hard knot at the center of him, a distant ache. Mrs. Seager's words were confusing and their implications frightening, and Tabasa's voice slipped out of his tight throat in a thin: "What?"

"Drop the good samaritan act. You think I haven't dealt with your kind before? A handsome young face won't hide what you are, not from me. Listen, I get the ten thousand bucks and you get to keep the kid. You don't think that sounds fair?"

"Ten thousand for a kid," faintly echoed Tabasa. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was like he was speaking to a human-shaped void filled with heartless malice. Maybe this woman had simply never had a conscience. His nerves were jumping and buzzing beneath his skin. He was getting nauseous.

"What, are you hesitating? Seriously?" Russell's mother clawed at her hair to tug it away from her face, an agitated, ragged movement. "People have tried to buy him for more. You know, I never said yes, because he was just a kid despite everything. But after what he did, I don't give a damn anymore. He can go rot in your basement for all I care." She stuck out her hand. "I need the money, though, so just pay up already. It's cheap. You won't get another chance to fuck a kid for this little trouble."

A shock of cold washed over Tabasa and his foot slipped out of the door crack when he stumbled backwards. Horror filled him. He had the time to see Mrs. Seager's brown eyes narrow at him through the slim space between the door and the wall just before he staggered down the stairs and threw up his lunch in the gutter lining the sidewalk. Tabasa retched and coughed, tears prickling at his eyes, and when he straightened, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Russell's mother was glaring at him with hard spite.

"Don't waste my time if you don't have anything to offer," she drily said, and the door slammed shut.

Tabasa blinked, in shock. The house stood before him like some monstrous being whose horrifying innards he'd just caught another glimpse of. Tabasa took an uncertain step back, and another, and then he spun around and fled.

That very same evening, when he realized that he'd been staring at his food without appetite for the last ten minutes, he understood that he needed to talk about this with someone. He called the police station and waited to be transferred over to the correct person for a few minutes.

"Hello, this is Officer Atkins," said the young officer's familiar voice. Tabasa launched into a frantic attempt at describing the earlier scene, but promptly stopped when Officer Atkins exclaimed: "Woah, woah, slow down, Mister McNeil. What's going on?"

"I went to see his mother, Russell's mother. She tried to sell him to me, she made it sound like I was going to- I wasn't, I was just looking for ways to keep him safe, and she.... She tried to sell him to me. She tried to sell him to me."

"What do you mean?"

Tabasa's voice shook. He was still beside himself from hearing Mrs. Seager suggest that he could even think of doing such a horrible thing.

"She said that she'd give me... She'd give me Russell in exchange for ten thousand dollars. She said, oh god," Tabasa tripped over the words, couldn't stop them from tumbling from his mouth. His voice rang out in his empty room, loud and high in panic. "She said it was cheap, she said 'you won't get another chance to fuck a kid for this little trouble', oh god, what if she tries to sell him? She said people tried to buy him before, she said it was cheap!"

"Mister McNeil," Officer Atkins evenly called out to him, "you have to calm down. Russell is safe in Copperfield and Mrs. Seager can't do anything to him. All right?"

"Yes, yes," quickly said Tabasa, nodding even if the officer couldn't see him doing it.

"I think we should talk about this face to face. Can you come down to the station?"

Tabasa conceded that it was a good idea, and he ended up sitting in Officer Atkin's office a few moments later. He stared at the cup of water in front of him. It had been given to him without his asking, just like last time, but he hadn't touched it. He could feel Officer Atkins' gaze on him. Tabasa kept tugging on his hood, his hair, the ornament hanging along the side of his face. He couldn't believe that Russell had been living with a person like that for so long. Could Mrs. Seager even qualify as a mother? Tabasa hadn't realized what kind of world Russell lived in.

"I'm going to record this, if that's okay with you?" checked Officer Atkins.

Tabasa nodded. "It's okay."

The click of the recorder rang out in the small room, and then Officer Atkins leaned back in his chair and asked: "When did you go see Mrs. Seager?"

Tabasa looked up. He felt guilty, as if he'd done something behind the officer's back, and maybe he'd even get in trouble for it. Maybe he wasn't allowed to talk to her after what had happened? He wasn't very sure about the specifics.

"Earlier today, at the end of my work shift. It was between 6PM and 7PM."

"Why did you go?"

"I... I wanted to ask her what she was going to do with Russell."

"What happened there?"

"When I asked her that, she said that she didn't want to see him again... and that she didn't care what happened to him."

Officer Atkins calmly nodded. "What else did she say?"

Tabasa breathed in and tried to mirror the officer's more placid demeanor. He really needed to calm down. "She said that no one cared about what Russell became. I told her that I cared. Her answer was that I should just adopt him if I cared so much. But I didn't know that was possible... Is it possible?"

Officer Atkins watched him cautiously. "Yes, but we'll talk about that later, if that's okay with you."

Tabasa hastily nodded. "Yes, of course. Um... So I said that I would, if I could. You know, because I don't want Russell to be stuck in the kind of system you told me about. I don't want him to end up in a family of strangers."

"I know," said Officer Atkins.

"And then she made an offer. At first I thought she was trying to sell her parental rights to me, somehow, but then she..." Tabasa ran his hand across his face, and pulled his hood further down. "She made it clearer what the offer was about."

"What did she say?"

Tabasa looked at Officer Atkins, upset that he was asking him to repeat what he'd clearly told him over the phone, but the officer gestured to the recorder between them and Tabasa understood. He lowered his gaze to his clasped hands. He spoke quickly to get rid of the dirty words. "She said that she'd give me Russell in exchange for ten thousand dollars, she said it was cheap, she said 'you won't get another chance to fuck a kid for this little trouble', she said other people had tried to buy him before and she'd said no because he was just a kid, but that now she didn't care anymore. I don't know more about that part. I don't know what other things she did, or what other things she thinks are okay to do to Russell, I just... I don't know."

"That's okay, Mister McNeil. Is there anything else you want to tell me about all of this?"

"...No. That's all, really." Tabasa wrung his hands together. "It upset me."

"I think that's understandable."

"I'm scared for Russell. I'm scared what'll happen to him when he gets out. What if his mother gets to him? Or, what if he ends up getting hit again? Or worse?" Just the thought of it made Tabasa shudder. Russell was only fourteen. He was just a little kid, and he'd already gone through so much.

Tabasa hadn't understood back then, that time at the zoo, when Russell had said that he'd resorted to violence just because he'd felt sad about not having a brother. Things were different now; Tabasa realized that Russell was stunted and damaged in ways that couldn't be fully understood by someone like him, and that what he found nonsensical wasn't necessarily devoid of sense. The way Russell processed his feelings was twisted up from all the things he'd gone through. Tabasa didn't want to think about what would happen if Russell continued to suffer.

"Mister McNeil," said Officer Atkins, "I understand that you want to help him."

Tabasa looked up. "Yes... Yes." He nodded, leaned closer. "You said you were going to tell me about how I could do that, right? Can you tell me?"

The young officer's mouth tightened in a line. "This kind of thing doesn't come under our jurisdiction so I wouldn't be able to explain it in detail, but I can at least inform you about it. It's called a DOPA. It stands for... um... designation of parental authority. The parents name a person to make decisions for and look after their kid. I think it's temporary, though, so it has to be signed every year or so. And the parents can revoke it at any moment, and they retain all their rights."

Tabasa frowned. "But if the parents can revoke it at any moment, then what makes us sure that they wouldn't do that for Russell?"

"You couldn't make sure, unless the parents' guardianship of the child was eventually taken away and transferred permanently, and that's probably a pretty convoluted process. Russell is fourteen, and from what I've seen, I think that means that CPS would estimate that terminating the parents' right isn't worth the hassle. Legally, he's only a few years away from adulthood, so I imagine that CPS would find yearly DOPAs to be the easiest option. Russell would be placed, and that's what matters to them."

Tabasa silently gazed at him, and then at the desk. "So I should talk to child protection services?"

"You could try," said Officer Atkins. He reached out and took hold of the recorder to shut it off.

Tabasa asked: "Are you going to use that?"

"Maybe. The conversation you had with her might be something that can be used against Mrs. Seager for when she'll appear in court."

Tabasa frowned. He'd thought that the justice system would be quicker on the uptake for charges of child abuse. "It still hasn't happened?"

Officer Atkins stared back at him with something akin to worn sympathy. It was strange to see it in the eyes of such a young cop. "These things take time, Mister McNeil."

"...Right." Tabasa sighed, leaned back and rubbed the back of his head over his hood. "I'll talk to CPS."

"Officer Bombers called the precinct, by the way," suddenly said Officer Atkins.

Tabasa brought his hand back down to his lap, eyebrows raised in interest. "How is she?"

"Good," said the officer, but his enthusiasm sounded muted. "She said she'll be sent to rehab soon."

"That's great news."

"Yeah." Officer Atkins looked away, and then back at Tabasa. "I think she'd like to talk to you. She said she'd try to visit the precinct as soon as she got discharged. Would you be okay with it if I called you over on that day? "

"...I'd be okay with it," said Tabasa. He tried not to think about her state on the couch. She'll be feeling better, after all.

Officer Atkins nodded. "I'll do that, then."

Tabasa got up, but he lingered next to the chair. "...Thanks."

"For what?"

"For listening to me."

"It's my job, Mister McNeil. What you told me was important information."

"Yes, but... It helped."

Officer Atkins smiled at him. "Well then, I'm glad I could help."

Chapter Text

The guard's keys jingled when he unlocked the metal door. It swung wide open with a loud, grating creak. The guard gestured Russell inside, so he obediently took a step into the room. He froze when he recognized the green hooded coat on the other side of the window. Tabasa smiled at him and waved. 

Only family was supposed to come here. 

Russell was confused. He shot the guard a look, but the man looked indifferent to Tabasa's presence here. Russell turned back around and cautiously went up to the stool behind the counter. He settled in his seat with slow, careful movements, and let his gaze roam about as he took in Tabasa's blue eyes, the dark bags beneath them, the pretty hair ornament glinting in his dark hair, the gentle curl of his lips. 

"Hi, Russell," said a voice through the speaker. It sounded a bit tinny, but it was unmistakably Tabasa's. Russell felt weird to hear it again after so long. It had been months since the last time they'd talked. The last time had been… It had been right after all the bodies and all the blood.

Russell hesitantly said hello back, and then he glanced over his shoulder again. The guard still didn't look concerned that he was seeing someone who wasn't a family member. Russell turned back to Tabasa and asked why he was here. 

"I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see you a lot earlier than this, but I wasn't allowed. They told me you never picked up my phone calls, either... Is that true?"

Russell didn't answer.

Tabasa cleared his throat and continued speaking. "So... Have they been treating you well here?" 

Russell found a small piece of string protruding from the lining in his pants and started picking at it. His current living conditions were comfortable. They were treating him well, and he still didn't understand why they were treating him well after all this time. He'd thought jail was supposed to be a very terrible place, and sometimes he wondered why his dad had been so afraid to go there. Maybe it was different for adults. 

"Russell?"

Criminals, monsters, people who did the bad things he'd done were supposed to be punished. This didn't feel like the punishment he'd thought would happen to him. Prison was just a long boring time-out. It was like eating bland, overcooked pasta. Like sitting in an empty waiting room. Like staring at a dirty wall. It was neither painful nor terrible, and he was fed three times a day, and he had a bed. There was nothing to complain about.

"You're probably wondering why they let me in, huh?" said Tabasa.

That caught Russell's attention, and he looked up and waited for him to continue. Tabasa shifted in his seat a little bit. His blue gaze flickered to the side as if he was gathering his thoughts, and then he asked: "Do you know anything about what's been happening outside, with your parents? What did they tell you was going to happen once you got out?"

Russell just shrugged. They hadn't told him much about anything, or maybe he hadn't listened, or maybe he'd forgotten. Ultimately, Russell didn't know about these matters. He hadn't been feeling particularly preoccupied about any of it, either. Somehow he'd figured that he'd stay in prison. 

Tabasa was clearly still waiting for a spoken answer, so Russell said that he wouldn't go back home. Mom didn't want him. 

Tabasa's face briefly changed when he said that, like a twisted, bruised softness that stole over his features, but then went back to normal just as fast. "I'm sorry, Russell... That must have been hard to hear."

Russell didn't say anything. It hadn't been particularly difficult. He'd expected it.

"And your family?"

Russell shook his head. No one wanted him.

"Well... That's not true," slowly said Tabasa. "Russell, there's been a change. You're not going to be left on your own when you leave this place. I'm... I did some paperwork. ...With your mother. She agreed to let me look after you."

Russell looked up. Tabasa had a careful look in his eyes. 

"Even if you can't go back home, you're not going to go somewhere where you don't know anyone. I would have liked to talk to you about this before it became official, but... I couldn't come because I didn't have the rights to do that yet, as someone who wasn't a guardian, and... Your mother, well. She... didn't want to come here."

Russell kept staring at him, and it felt like the surroundings were slipping out of his grasp. He wasn't sure he understood what Tabasa was saying.

"So... We signed a paper that's called a DOPA. It means that she allows me to take care of you in her stead," explained Tabasa. His lips twitched in a nervous smile. Russell knew that meant Tabasa wasn't at ease, he’d seen it before. Tabasa continued. "It doesn't make me your parent, but I guess you can consider me like a big brother now... Sort of."

Russell averted his gaze. He stared at the counter long and hard. Then, without looking up, he said that Tabasa didn't have to do this if he was scared of him.

"No!" exclaimed Tabasa. "I'm not scared of you , Russell, it's... This is a big change for both of us. I'm worried that you don't want this. I know this is sudden for you... I didn't want to spring it on you like this, but I didn't have a choice. I had to wait for the DOPA to be finalized before I could come see you."

Russell didn't know if he did or didn't want this. Tabasa had always been nice to him, but Russell still hadn’t figured out why. He knew that Tabasa would become annoyed if they lived in the same house: his parents had always been bothered by his presence, and Russell couldn’t be anything but a nuisance to anyone who let him live with them. Tabasa would end up feeling the same way as Dad and Mom did, once he realized what it was like to live with Russell, and then it would be the same as before. Russell didn't like prison, but he liked even less the idea of Tabasa being... like that.

"I never thought about having kids, you know," said Tabasa when Russell was quiet for too long. "I think I'm still young, myself... So that's why I'm worried. I'm afraid of not doing a good job of looking after you, Russell, but I want to do a good job. If you'll let me try, then... I think we could work this out. I think we could be okay."

Russell realized that he didn't want to say yes, but that he didn't want to say no, either. He was unsure. 

He felt unsafe. 

The counter in front of him was flat and slick, plastic, a bit stained in the corners, and the light that glinted off its edge was bright. The details stood out. His vision was hyper focused. His brain felt numb. 

If he said anything, then he'd be pushed down either of two paths. Russell didn't want to make a decision. He wanted to be told what to do. It was other people who knew what was the right thing to do for a criminal like him. Criminals weren't supposed to be allowed to choose what they wanted.

Tabasa continued after a beat. "You don't have to answer today. I'm sorry... This must be very confusing for you. Do you want to know what will happen if you say yes or no? I can explain that to you. ...If you want."

Russell looked to the side. He felt a bit beside himself, like his body was on the stool and he was floating an inch to the left. Everything felt distant. Tabasa hesitated, but he continued talking when Russell didn't say anything.

"If you don't want me to look after you, then maybe we could talk to Child Protection again. Normally, they would try to put you back with your mother, and if that didn't work, then you would become the state's responsibility. That means you'd go into foster care or in a group home. Do you know what those are?"

Russell absent-mindedly nodded. He'd heard it from the other kids. 

"But if you do agree to the arrangement with the DOPA, then that means you'll come live with me directly after getting out of Copperfield. I'll take care of everything. Your parents would still be able to make decisions for you, but... I don't think they'd try and bother us."

It made sense. They'd always wanted to get rid of Russell. He wondered why they hadn't done something like this sooner. Was it that they would have risked jail for this, too, if they had? Russell raised his head and asked where his parents were. 

Tabasa looked troubled.

"You don't know anything?"

Russell shook his head.

"I think your father's still in the hospital. And your mother... She got sentenced to some jail time. She's in prison." He paused, pressed his lips together, sighed. "One year. I don't know how her lawyer did it, but..."

Russell cut in to ask why she'd had to go to jail.

"Because she hurt you," Tabasa told him. "They pressed charges against her after what happened."

Russell argued that only his dad had hurt him.

"Your mom didn't hurt you like your dad did, but she still hurt you," answered Tabasa, his expression firming. "She should have stopped him. She should have taken better care of you. The things she did... They were just as bad as the things that he did. She was terrible to you, Russell. Someone should have intervened earlier and it never should have ended with you getting that badly injured. She deserves a lot more than one year for what she did."

Russell thought that Tabasa looked angry. He didn't understand why, because he didn't think he'd said anything to irritate him, but lately Russell had been angering a lot of people, so it didn't seem unlikely that Tabasa was getting angry at him too. He recognized the raising of the voice, the hardening of the features, the furrowing of the brow, the tensing of the body. Russell knew that he was the one who was usually the cause for when this happened. He felt something cold curl up inside of him and dropped his gaze to the counter again. He didn't want to make Tabasa angrier by staring at him. They didn't like it when he stared.

It was silent for a bit, and when Tabasa spoke again, his voice was softer. "Sorry, Russell... I shouldn't have gotten carried away. You don't need me to say all those things." He sighed, short and muffled, like he was covering his face. "Sorry."

Russell didn't look up. He felt more unsafe than before. His back hurt. It faintly smelled of beer in the small room. 

Tabasa changed subjects. "Did anyone tell you about Officer Bombers?"

Russell shook his head. What would there have been to tell him about? He'd seen her on that couch, he already knew. He'd seen her red half-lidded eyes, and the red scarf around her neck, and the red blood that had spilled from her body. He already knew that it was his fault. Her body on the couch, limp like a doll, her mouth open in a gasp that Dad hadn't let her take. 

He didn't want to think about her, suddenly. Russell shook his head harder even as Tabasa's voice was still in his ears telling him that Officer Bombers had woken up. He pushed himself away from the window, the counter and the stool. He didn't want to think about her. He didn't want to talk about her. 

He could smell beer, but he could smell blood, too, and he was cold and his skin was tingling. 

A big hand grabbed his arm and he thought that he was going to get hurt, and his heart raced, and his breath stuttered, and he flinched in anticipation. There was no bright pain cracking across his face. He wasn't thrown on the ground. Instead, someone was telling him to stop . He was being shaken by the shoulders. It wasn't painful. He heard another voice that was calling his name.

"Look at me," ordered the man in front of him.

Russell blinked and looked into a face which took him a moment to recognize, and then he realized he was staring at the guard, and then he quickly looked away before it made anyone angrier. His heart was fluttering in his ribcage and he was breathing fast. 

"Russell?"

He looked towards the sound of his name. Tabasa was gazing wide-eyed at him from the other side of the window. He'd stood up. Russell felt the guard squeeze his shoulders.

"Seager, look at me." 

He obeyed. The guard was leaning down a little so that he was at eye level. He was frowning. 

"Are you with me? Do you know where we are?"

Russell nodded.

"All right," said the guard. "Come on. The visit is over."

Russell nodded again and let the guard guide him back inside the wide hall. He heard a tinny voice at his back from far away. He felt tired. His skin buzzed. His chest and back hurt. He wanted to go back to his pale blue bed sheets, lie down, and stop everything.

The guard must have told Dr. Cardinal about it, because when Russell saw her two days later, that was what she opened the session with. 

"I heard that you got a visit the other day. It sounded like it didn't go well. What happened?"

Russell didn't answer. 

He hadn't been talking since Tabasa's visit. He didn't know why. Maybe silence was just easier. Sleeping hadn't helped at all. He still felt outside of himself. His back hurt. His back always hurt.

"I was informed that you panicked during this visit. Charlie told me it wasn't easy to snap you out of it." Russell looked at her, and she supplied: "The counselor who was with you to watch over the visit." 

Dr. Cardinal knew that he forgot a lot of names. 

Russell looked back down.

"Why did you panic?" evenly asked Dr. Cardinal.

Russell shrugged. He didn't know himself why he'd had such a vivid vision of Yumi's body. He didn’t say it.

"Who was this visitor?" 

Russell emptily gazed at her desk. They were both quiet for a long time. 

"Have you been feeling bad since the visit?"

He nodded.

"Have you spoken a word since, or is your silence here the same as it has been for the past two days?" 

When he didn't answer, Dr. Cardinal reached for her blue notepad and fished a pink fluorescent pen out of her purple transparent pencil holder. She twisted it and the tip of the pen clicked out, and then she handed both objects to Russell. "Here. Maybe you could write down your answers instead of speaking."

Russell took the pen and paper, laid them out on the desk and took his hands away. He didn't really want to talk. 

Dr. Cardinal gazed at him and then nudged the pen closer to him with two slender tanned fingers. Her nails were painted orange today. "Please," she said. "Is your silence only from today, or from before?"

Russell stared at the two objects for a few more seconds, and then he picked up the pink pen and started writing. The ink was dark blue. 

Before

Dr. Cardinal looked satisfied that he was going along with her suggestion of writing his answers. "Since the visit?"

He nodded.

"Can you tell me who your visitor was?"

Tabasa

"The zookeeper," she mused. She seemed a bit perplexed, but she asked: "And what did you talk about?"

Mom

Russell hesitated.

dopa

Dr. Cardinal raised an eyebrow at that. "Is Dopa a person?"

Russell shook his head. 

paperwork

"Oh! A designation of parental authority, then?" she asked. Russell didn’t react. She must have seen that he didn't know what she was talking about, because she continued with: "Did he talk to you about a document which temporarily designates a person to take on the responsibilities of a parent?"

That was probably it. 

"So this is how he was able to visit you... I understand now. Is it the talk of your mother that made you panic?"

Russell looked down at the notepad. He slowly dragged the pen tip across the smooth surface of the paper square.

Yumi Bombers

"The officer. I see." Dr. Cardinal clasped her hands on her desk. "Did it make you remember the scene?"

Russell nodded briefly, and then he set down the pen for good. Dr. Cardinal didn't insist that he take it up again.

"Did you feel like you were back there?"

Russell remembered thinking that he was going to get hurt, and how it had started to smell like his living room even though he wasn't at home. He wasn't sure. He shrugged. Dr. Cardinal quietly studied him for a few seconds.

"In your opinion, Russell, could this have been a flashback?"

Dr. Cardinal had explained PTSD symptoms to him when he'd come back from the hospital. She'd described flashbacks: smells could be part of one. Russell realized that the doctor was right. He'd had many nightmares and intrusive memories in his months spent in Copperfield, but this wasn't anything like that. The memory had been stronger, scarier, overwhelming and real. He slowly nodded.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that this may be the first time you've had one," remarked Dr. Cardinal. 

Russell didn't correct her.

"It could be that your encounter with Tabasa was perhaps a trigger," she suggested. "You haven't had to meet anyone related to that scene in several months, not to mention that you talked about Officer Bombers with him. Was there a moment where you felt unsafe?"

Russell wanted to tell her that he'd felt like that nearly the whole time he'd talked with Tabasa, even though that shouldn't have been the case, considering that he'd been the one to hurt Tabasa in the first place. He thought she also ought to know that he'd made Tabasa angry. The words wouldn't come, however, so Russell didn't say anything at all and just nodded again.

"I think that next time, you should tell Tabasa that you don't want to talk about Officer Bombers," said Dr. Cardinal. Russell hadn't even thought that there would be a next time. As if she'd read his thoughts, Dr. Cardinal said: "He is your guardian now, if the talk about DOPAs and the fact that he visited you are anything to go by, which means that he could visit you again. Do you think that he has your best interests at heart?"

Russell shrugged.

"All right," said Dr. Cardinal. "If he visits again, Russell, and if you feel so inclined, I would like you to give him this." She picked a white rectangular card out of a stack that was held in place by another purple holder and slipped it to him. "It has my contacts on it. It's up to you, as well as up to Tabasa, whether or not he'll call me. Given that he is your guardian now, allowing me to talk to him could be useful to all of us. I should remind you that if you ask me to keep private everything that you've told me, I won't disclose the contents of our sessions to any of your guardians. I'd only do it without your consent if I deemed it necessary for your own safety, which has not been the case so far. I do encourage you to involve Tabasa, but again, the decision is ultimately up to you. Would you agree to involve him in this process?"

Russell didn't care what they chose to do with the information he was volunteering in these therapy sessions, so he agreed to it.

Tabasa came back a week later. The first thing Russell did was give him Dr. Cardinal's business card beneath the guards' watchful eyes, and with it, the note that he'd written with her help before their session had ended. He could talk again, but he still didn't want to say the name out loud.

I don't want to talk about Officer Bombers.

Tabasa read the note and looked up at Russell with a strange look in his eyes, but all he did was softly say: "Okay, Russell. We can talk about plenty of other things, if you want."

Chapter Text

Tabasa was crouched on the ground trying to assemble his new bed when he heard his phone ring in the next room. He quickly got up and went to pick his ringing phone off the table he'd forgotten it on. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mister McNeil. It's Edward Atkins, I'm calling to tell you that Officer Bombers is at the precinct. Are you available to come down?"

Tabasa's gaze roamed around his living space covered in cardboard boxes. "I could take a break."

He could hear Officer Atkins' smile on the other end of the line. "Great. See you in a bit, then."

"Yes, I'll be there." Tabasa hung up and slid his phone in his pocket, then went to grab his coat, his keys, and slipped on his boots.

The police precinct was in a hubbub when Tabasa walked in. He stood there for a while, lost, not daring to ask around for where he could find Officer Atkins, until an officer sitting at the closest desk asked him if he needed any help. He explained what he was there for, was told to wait for a bit, and waited until Officer Atkins was brought out to the front of the precinct.

"Over here, Mister McNeil," Officer Atkins called out when he saw Tabasa standing at the entrance. "The party's in the conference room."

"A party?" echoed Tabasa, abruptly panicked at the idea of walking in on an event he hadn't meant to be a part of.

"Well, we're celebrating the return of one of our beloved coworkers after all." Officer Atkins didn't leave him any time to second-guess himself and guided him further into the precinct. He added in a lower voice: "I should warn you of one thing, Yumi suffered some brain damage. Don't be surprised when you notice symptoms."

Tabasa nodded, apprehension growing inside of him. He hadn't looked into the matter of Officer Bombers' rehab, hadn't even looked up the long-term effects of momentarily dying, even though he'd thought about them. Maybe he'd been avoiding it. He wondered if things would have been easier for her if he'd been quicker to intervene when he'd found her.

They stepped in a room surrounded by clear windows with the blinds pulled up, and there were tables covered in drinks and snacks gathered together at the center of it. The chairs had all been stacked along the walls. There was a jazzy, fast-paced beat playing faintly in the background. The room was filled with officers and Tabasa felt extremely out of place. Officer Atkins touched his elbow to attract his attention and pointed him to the left. "Right over there."

That was when Tabasa saw her, smiling and alive, blue eyes bright in the neon lights, golden hair cascading down her shoulders. Yumi Bombers was animatedly talking with the people around her. It was as if she'd never been lying limp and bloodied on that dirty couch in Russell's home. Tabasa stared at her. It felt to him like she was the only person in the room. She was leaning against the wall and had a hand on a nearby chair, next to a light brown walking stick that was propped up against it.

Her face brightened when she saw Officer Atkins come closer. "Ed! There ya are! I was wonderin' where ya'd gone off to." Her words were slurred, but her enthusiasm was untarnished.

Officer Atkins stopped in the middle of the little group. "Sorry, I got called out of the room."

"Who's yer friend?" she asked, gesturing at Tabasa with her glass. There wasn't a single ounce of recognition in her gaze when it swept over him. She just looked politely curious.

"Oh, well, that's who I got called out for. I went to get Mister McNeil right here," said Officer Atkins with a jerk of his thumb in Tabasa's direction.

Officer Bombers' expression shifted upon hearing his name and she slowly repeated: "Mister McNeil."

Tabasa stuck out his hand because he didn't know what else to do, and awkwardly said: "Tabasa. Tabasa McNeil. It's nice to see you here."

She looked lost in her thoughts for a moment, but then she noticed his hand and reached out to shake it. He noticed that she didn't do it for long. Her hand flew back to the chair as if she needed it to keep her balance.

"And I sure am glad to be here," said Officer Bombers with a little smile. It should have put Tabasa at ease, but he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable because of how audible the distortion of her speech was. It was the instinctive discomfort of noticing that someone was different from the rest, and wondering what the others thought about it. "What brings ya 'round, mister?"

Tabasa felt caught out, having assumed that she would've known about the reason for his presence here. His brain froze, trapped in the beginnings of panic once more. He helplessly threw a quick glance in Officer Atkins' direction, who mercifully got the message and answered in his stead. "I told you he was coming, remember? We agreed that maybe it'd be a good thing for the both of you to talk to each other."

"Ohhh," said Officer Bombers, and she shot Tabasa a quick, guilty little grin. "The ole memory's not as good as it used to be. Edward setting us up for a chat sounds 'bout right, though."

"Oh, no," quickly said Tabasa, "Officer Bombers, I don't think Officer Atkins meant to set us up for anything-"

She laughed. "That's an awful lot of 'officer, officer's you're throwing all around there, kid. Call me Yumi. And jus' how long have you two been hangin' out, hm? I reckon it's been long enough for you to call this guy Edward."

Tabasa shot another uneasy look at Officer Atkins. "I don't mean to overstep..."

Officer Atkins waved his concerns away. "No, no, she's right. Edward's fine by this point."

"Oh," said Tabasa, a bit surprised that their conversation had lead to such a degree of familiarity in a matter of seconds. "All right, then... Edward and Yumi. Oh, you can call me Tabasa too, then."

"Tabasa," Edward greeted him with that half-amused, half-serious smile of his. He constantly seemed at least a little bit serious no matter what the conversation was about. When Tabasa looked back at Yumi, she was gazing at him with an odd look in her eyes. She covered it up with a smile and lifted her glass towards him. "Well, Tabasa, let's enjoy the party before anythin' else. We can have that chat later, what say you?"

"...Yes," said Tabasa after a quick glance around where he realized all over again that he was in a crowd of strangers. "Later sounds good."

Yumi picked up a nearby glass and filled it with fruit juice, then thrust it towards Tabasa with a bright smile. "Drink up, mister."

No one made mention of the fact that Tabasa had been the one to find her that day. He was grateful for that, because he would've hated being the center of attention in this room full of officers he didn't know; and he also wondered if it was because Yumi wanted to avoid the subject. He couldn't imagine how it felt for her to meet the person who'd found her in that state, and to not have a single recollection of it ever happening. In fact, he couldn't imagine how it felt for her to have lived what she'd lived. What did she remember? What had people told her? Tabasa didn't ask. He kept his nose in his glass and his questions to himself, and listened to the officers talk around him. He was generally a good listener at parties. Not that he attended many of them.

Eventually, Yumi put down her empty cup, grabbed her cane, and said: "How 'bout we go get a drink, Tabasa? A real one, not this cheap orange juice. No offense to the good people who organized this party."

"All right," said Tabasa.

Yumi bade her fellow officers good-bye, ruffled Edward's hair on her way out, and then she was hobbling out of the precinct with Tabasa in tow, waving at her coworkers. When they stepped out of the building, Yumi told him: "I know a place. D'you have a car with you? We could take the bus, but ya know, I'd rather sit in a car, and I ain't drivin' in my state."

"Sure," said Tabasa.

He felt awkward in the silence that permeated the air between them as they walked down the street. Yumi's presence at his side was very noticeable. She was a rather tall lady and not that much shorter than him. Although she relied heavily on her cane, her posture was firm and proud. When they approached his green vehicle, he hesitated and decided to go open the door for her. Yumi stopped next to it and grabbed the edge of the door.

"Ya don't need to do that next time. I can handle it."

"Oh, sorry," awkwardly said Tabasa, and he took a quick step back. "Sorry."

She smiled at him. "It's fine. Yer being nice to me, I get it, and I'm just tellin' you what I need or not. C'mon, let's get going."

They got in together and Tabasa started the engine. The car rattled to life. Yumi turned to look at him in surprise. "Woah, you sure this thing's safe to drive?"

Tabasa nodded. "I get it looked over twice a year. It's just loud, don't worry."

She still seemed a little intrigued, but she chuckled and said: "All right then. You seem like a stickler for rules, I'll trust ya on this."

"Thanks... Where are we going?"

"Tokomo Bar. I like their snack bowls. Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah, I think I remember. I've been there once... Coworker stuff. Downtown, Gossam Street?"

"Yep. Step on it, mister," she said.

Tabasa pulled out of his parking spot and rolled out onto the road. It was quiet. Yumi was the one to break the silence.

"So you're the guy who found me."

Tabasa's hands tensed around the wheel. She sounded different when she said that, her voice lower and duller. He hadn't thought that she would talk about it just yet. "...Yes."

"I owe you big time, huh."

Tabasa had no idea what to say to that. He took too long to answer.

"I don't think Edward told me much about what the scene looked like, probably out of respect for me, but I'm not dumb. I know it musta been..." She trailed off, and then muttered: "I'm sorry you and Russell had to see that."

Tabasa glanced at her. His palms were sweaty. He felt nervous and confused, and he had no idea how to handle a conversation like this. He was too caught up in his own emotions to figure out what she was possibly thinking, so all he could do was try his best to reply in an adapted manner. It felt like he was going in blind. "...It wasn't your fault, Officer."

"Drop the Officer, will ya? It's Yumi."

Tabasa quickly corrected himself. "Yumi."

She was silent for a bit. "Nah, it was my fault. I shoulda known better than to go in there alone. Mr. Seager... He's a real piece of work. I knew he was a bastard. Didn't think he'd have the balls to do anything with two people having sex right next door, but that was my mistake." Yumi breathed in deeply and looked out the window. "Such a fucked-up place. I shoulda tried harder to get Russell out of there before all this shit went down. I failed him."

Tabasa was quiet too. It was taking him some time to find the right words. "...You're not the only one. Everyone failed him."

Yumi looked at him. "Except I'm a police officer. It's my goddamn job to protect people."

Tabasa tried to keep his shoulders from hiking up even more. He could feel the tension crackling in the air, the anger radiating from Yumi. He knew that it was self-directed, but it still put him on edge because he wasn't very good at dealing with people when they were angry. He was better at comforting someone who was sad, or reassuring someone who was afraid. All he knew to do with angry people was to be compliant so as to not further ruffle their feathers. Still, he was stuck in this car with her, he had to try his best to calm her down.

"I think it's every adult's job to protect a kid like Russell," he said. "I saw the signs... The injuries. He always had excuses. I wasn't sure, so I didn't act. ...I should have." Yumi looked back ahead and didn't say anything, so he continued talking. "I don't think it's good to beat myself up over that, though. Russell needs my help... I'm trying to focus on that."

"Sounds like the smart thing to do," muttered Yumi. She still sounded resentful.

"...Thanks," uncertainly said Tabasa.

"Edward told me that Russell's in juvie. Far as he knows, Mrs. Seager's shown no inclination to visit him. Do you know what's gonna happen to him?"

"Edward didn't tell you? I negociated a DOPA with the CPS and Mrs. Seager. I'm Russell's guardian now..."

He saw Yumi scrutinize him out of the corner of his eye. "You? How come?"

"Well... I know him and he knows me. He's been coming to the zoo for a good while now and we talk when we meet there, so we know each other pretty well thanks to that. I was trying to look out for him since I was worried he'd get in trouble. And then when all that happened... I couldn't abandon Russell to the system. Not after knowing everything he went through. I didn't know about any other person who was willing to look after him, and neither did CPS when I asked them. I'm the only one."

She was quiet for a while, and then she asked: "How old are you, Tabasa?"

He hesitated. "Twenty-four."

"Do you have a partner?"

"...No. I live alone."

"You're a zookeeper, right?"

"Yes."

Yumi kept staring at him. "Do you have the means to look after a teenager?"

"I think so. I mean, I'll have to. I signed the DOPA and everything. There should be enough space for him in my home, and two can fit in the bedroom..." Tabasa trailed off when he realized that he was giving too many details about the living arrangements he'd planned and not enough about the rest for the question she'd asked. "I already alerted his school and everything. I planned a budget for his food and his clothes... Everything that he might need. I made sure he'd be comfortable." He tried not to think about what paying for Russell's needs meant in regards to how carefully he'd have to handle the rest of his income, how it would limit him in fulfilling his own needs. He was trying not to show how much pressure it already put on him both financially and mentally whenever he got asked about it. "Um... The medical insurance is a mess, but they told me that was his parents' problem to solve, so we haven't gotten very far on that aspect."

Yumi slowly said: "Tabasa, what I meant to say is... This sounds like an awful big responsibility to be fallin' in yer lap at your age, in your situation."

Tabasa's hands were starting to feel numb from how tightly he was clenching the wheel. He tried not to think about the conditions Mrs. Seager had put down for him to sign the DOPA. He always pretended it didn't matter. There was no choice, not if Tabasa wanted Russell to be safe.

"No one else is going to take care of Russell. No one trustworthy," he told Yumi.

"He could land in a good family."

"He could land in a bad one, too!" exclaimed Tabasa, and then he heard himself, and he hated how loud he was being so he tried to reign in his growing agitation. "Sorry... I didn't mean to shout."

"That's all right." Yumi didn't look away. "You really care about that kid, don't ya."

"I just... I've seen what he's capable of, and... the way he reacts sometimes, like when he's sad or afraid. It's dangerous... for him and for others. I don't want that to happen again. And I don't want to take the risk of letting Russell suffer through more abuse when he's already gone through such horrible things."

"Yeah," said Yumi. "I get that. Listen, if y'all need any help, I'm around. I care about Russell too. I feel responsible for what happened." She raised a hand when Tabasa opened his mouth to speak. "I know, it's not accurate to what actually went down, but that doesn't change the fact that that's how I feel. So just... You and Russell need anythin', y'know who to call."

"...Okay," said Tabasa. "Thanks, Yumi. I'll keep that in mind."

Tabasa stood next to his car, outside in the small parking lot, facing the red and white walls of the Copperfield juvenile detention center. He checked his phone for the time- never wore a watch ever since his monkeys had stolen it the second time- and pursed his lips. They'd said 10AM. Behind him, he heard Chris call: "What time is it?"

Tabasa turned around to face him. The boy's legs were halfway out of the car and he was leaning out, hanging on the open car door. Tabasa answered: "Nine past ten."

"What the hell, they're way late," angrily muttered Chris.

Next to him, his mother laid a placating hand on his shoulder. Tabasa had learned not too long ago that her name was Wendy. "He's going to come out, Chris. Just be patient."

Tabasa turned back around. He felt strongly like Chris, even if he was doing his best to hide his own irritation. They'd detained Russell for six months and he'd looked miserable every time Tabasa had come to see him, even if it was Russell, who looked apathetic most of the time and didn't voice such misery. Tabasa had seen it in his pale face and hunched shoulders, and he'd heard it in Russell's long periods of silence that were always littered across their conversations. He remembered that Russell had always been a quiet kid, but something about that had worsened in the time he'd been kept away from them. It felt gratuitously cruel to keep him within Copperfield's walls for longer than necessary.

Tabasa had asked Yumi if she wanted to come, but she'd refused. They'd met up again at the Tokomo a few times in the month since she'd returned to her precinct, and they got along, but she'd never mentioned wanting to meet Russell directly. Her refusal had cemented Tabasa's suspicions that Yumi didn't want to face Russell. He hadn't asked why, because he hadn't felt that it was his place to do so, but he did wonder why the officer was this avoidant of a boy she cared so much about. He knew that she did: she'd been more than happy to come and help Tabasa organize his new living space in regards to Russell, and every time they talked about him, her tone was either protective or fond. Tabasa thought that her avoidance may have been due to Yumi's lingering shame of being found by Russell.

A door opened beyond the wall of metal mesh and Tabasa quickly straightened, peering at the shapes that walked out of the building, one short and one tall. He recognized the blonde head. Before he could say anything, Chris was already hopping out of the car and yelling: "It's Russell!"

Wendy followed her son and they all hurried to the metal gate Russell was approaching with the guard. Tabasa felt his heart clench. Out here in the sunlight, Russell looked even paler than beneath the neon lights of the visitors' room. He walked like the world was too big for him. His attention was fixed on their small group but his gaze kept flickering around, as if he expected something to happen, and his narrow shoulders were hunched.

Tabasa heard Chris gasp next to him. He looked down and saw that the boy was just staring at Russell with his mouth hanging half-open. His mother had also noticed, and when her gaze met Tabasa's, she looked distinctly worried. Tabasa realized that they hadn't seen Russell in a long time, even longer than his six months of incarceration. The kid probably looked even more terrible to Wendy and Chris. They hadn't been allowed in the courtroom where the trial had unfolded. It was possible that Russell had been avoiding them when he'd been sick before the incident in his house, just as he'd been avoiding Tabasa.

The guard next to Russell unlocked the gate and nudged him out in the open, on the other side of the fence. He simply said: "Keep out of trouble, Seager." Then he nodded at Tabasa and Wendy, turned around, and walked away.

They all looked at Russell, who was just standing there and avoiding their gazes. Tabasa noticed that he'd grown in those six months of incarceration, but he was still thin and smaller than Chris. A heavy silence laid over them. None of them knew what to say, at first, until Chris finally spoke.

"Hey, Russ. It's really cool to see you again."

Chapter Text

Russell felt everyone's gazes on him, but he kept his eyes down and didn't speak to anyone. It was overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people in such a small space. Tabasa was busy driving, but he still looked at Russell in the rearview mirror from time to time. Chris' mom turned around in the passenger seat every handful of minutes. They both asked Russell questions about what he wanted to do once they got to Tabasa's home, but Russell didn't answer, so they answered each other instead by talking about what the options were. 

Chris was trying to speak to him too. Russell felt odd about it. They were both sitting in the backseat just like they had that time when they'd gone to the aquarium, and Chris was acting like Russell was still his friend, instead of a criminal who'd spent six months in jail. It didn't feel right. Russell didn't participate in the conversation about what had happened at school during his absence. Chris noticed, and eventually, he stopped talking. That felt odd too, because it usually took a lot longer for Chris to tire himself out when he talked on his own. Now it was just quiet. 

Russell stared out the window, emptily watching the tires swallow up mile after mile of asphalt. He gazed at the blur of trees and the open skies. 

He was out of prison, in a car that was bringing him to a new home, with three people who'd shown up at the gate even though he'd expected to be abandoned in front of Copperfield. The others behaved like this was a good situation, but Russell didn't feel good. All he felt was a tension wrapped around his ribs and a cold knot in his gut. 

He didn't know what was going to happen to him. He didn't know what Tabasa was bringing him home for, he didn't know why Chris was there, he didn't know why Chris' mom had come. Russell wondered if Tabasa had any punishments planned for when he'd start bothering him. He wondered if they all knew about what had happened when he'd been held in custody before the trial, why he'd had a black eye in the courtroom. For a moment, back then, Russell had even believed that it was his dad who'd come to find him in prison for revenge; he'd thought that Dad was the one hurting him. That had been stupid. Dad was still in the hospital. Not dead, but not alive, either. They probably all thought he'd deserved the black eye. His parents would have thought that. 

"I'm real sorry about what happened, Russ," suddenly said Chris, and Russell looked at him. The other boy looked uncomfortable. "I wish we'd done something about your dad sooner."

Chris' mom turned around again. "I'm sorry as well. What you've had to go through is just... horrible. But you're not alone, all right? Chris and I are still here. We're on your side. You've got Tabasa, too, now."

Russell stared at them and eventually lowered his gaze back to his lap. Did any of that matter? It wouldn't last. Maybe they just hadn't realized yet that it was better not to be on his side.

"Are you mad at us?" asked Chris. "We're really sorry, Russell. Really. I get it if you're mad at us, though."

Russell shook his head. No, he wasn't mad. He didn't know why Chris had thought that he'd be mad. He didn't understand why they were apologizing, either. Everything that had happened to him had happened for a reason. It wasn't their fault.

"Russell, honey, can you say something?"

Russell heard the pet name and looked back at Chris' mom. He didn't understand why she had that look on her face. He didn't understand why she was still calling him 'honey'. He didn't feel like he had anything to say, so he just didn't say anything.

"He gets like that sometimes," said Tabasa from the driver's seat. "It's worrying, I know, but it's not dangerous. He'll talk when he feels better."

Chris' mom turned back around to look at him. "Yes, but..."

"Russell, man, you're scarin' me," Chris insisted. "I know you ain't the chatty type but this is... Talk to me. Like, uh, what'd you eat for lunch?"

Russell's gaze drifted off to the side. He felt blank. He did not want to talk. He turned his back on Chris and curled up in his seat. The muscles in his back always felt strained like his skin was pulled too tight.

"Russell?" said Chris.

"Maybe it would be better if you left him alone," cautiously said Tabasa. "He must be tired."

"But…"

"It's okay, Chris," said his mom. "He's back, now. You two will have more chances to catch up soon. Just leave him alone for now, alright?"

"...Fine," reluctantly said Chris, and Russell felt the thump of the other boy's back hitting the upholstery. He continued gazing out the window, bone-weary but unblinking. The tension was too strong inside his body. He couldn't close his eyes.

The rest of the ride was quiet overall, except for the low exchanges between Tabasa and Chris' mom that were a bit muffled by the drone of the tires. Russell nodded off a few times, but the adrenaline that shot through him every time he realized that he'd let his guard down stopped him from truly falling asleep. The trip lasted half a day and they stopped for restroom breaks four times. Tabasa bought Russell and Chris a chocolate bar each. The sight of candy made Russell hungry and he only hesitated shortly before taking a bite just like Chris was doing, but he only managed to eat half. Chewing was tiring. He automatically tried to hand the leftover bar to Chris so that he'd eat it in his stead, just like he used to do for the others in juvie whenever he didn't finish his meal, but Chris stared at him weirdly and said: "Nah, man. It's yours."

"Keep it for later," suggested Tabasa.

Russell gazed at them both, and hesitantly folded up the wrapper around the exposed end of the bitten-off candy bar. He expected Chris' mom, if not Tabasa, to tell him that he wasn't allowed to keep food for later; but no one said anything when he slipped the snack in his pants pocket. Then Russell remembered that he wasn't in prison anymore. There was no rule here forbidding that kind of thing. The first time he'd given Russell a cereal bar with chocolate at the zoo, Tabasa hadn't minded giving Russell more of them to keep for later.

It was 6PM when they reached their town, and they stopped at the bottom of a building ten minutes later. "We're here," said Tabasa, and they all climbed out of the car. Russell gripped the handles of the plastic bag that contained his belongings and followed them to the big glass doors of the building's entrance. The two boys waited for the adults to finish talking. It didn't last long.

"I think we should go," said Chris' mom. "Russell looks like he really needs the rest."

"Yeah... I'll take care of him. Thanks for coming," said Tabasa.

"We're the ones that should thank you for letting us come along. Chris missed Russell a lot, he was very happy to be able to see him today." She smiled at Chris, and so did Tabasa. Russell just glanced over. Chris also glanced at him, and then looked away with reddening ears. His mom laid a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Chris. Say goodbye and let's go, you can come back another day."

They exchanged last goodbyes, to which Russell only nodded, and Tabasa went to open the door. Chris looked a bit upset but he didn't argue when his mom guided him down the street. Russell watched them go, and then he slowly looked up at Tabasa.

"Are you coming?" Tabasa asked with a little wave towards the inside of the building.

Russell went. There was an elevator they had to wait for, and the ride upstairs was silent too. Russell paid attention in case Tabasa chose to stand too close, but the distance between them was safe enough, so there was no need to step away. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Tabasa stepped out and Russell followed him down the hallway towards the door on the left end. He watched the man slip a key in the lock. He felt tired. He hoped that there would be somewhere for him to lie down in there.

"Welcome to your new home," said Tabasa when he opened the door.

Bright light illuminated the apartment's entryway and spilled into the room when Tabasa flipped the switch. Russell stepped inside and cautiously looked around. Like in his old house, the open kitchen was directly in the living room, but it was next to the entrance instead of on the far end of the room. There were three doors along the left wall. Tabasa was taking off his shoes, so Russell did the same after briefly hesitating. It was the same in Chris' house. His mom didn't like when they kept their shoes on because it tracked dirt on the floor. Russell's parents hadn't cared. 

Tabasa went to open the doors to show where they led. "This is the restroom," he said when he opened the first. It was a small rectangular room and there were a lot of shelves on the wall. He closed it again, and went to open the door right next to it where the two entrances were only separated by a few inches. "And this is the bathroom."

The bathroom was very different from Russell's old one. It was strangely shaped, with a narrow corridor containing the sink and a laundry bag that hung from the wall. The corridor widened into a cube at the end, with a tub in one corner, and a washing machine topped with a drying machine in the other. Russell's gaze rested on the set of drawers between the machines and the tub. He didn't want to do it in front of Tabasa, and he'd lost his diary to the trials anyway, but he assured himself that he'd check later if one of the drawers was unused. Just in case.

Tabasa showed him the last door. "This is our bedroom."

Russell didn't go inside this time. He just watched Tabasa walk ahead and stand in the middle of the room.

"I've been sleeping in that bed," said Tabasa, gesturing to the one on the left, "but you can choose either one. I was planning on cleaning my bedsheets anyway."

Russell peered at the two beds, confused. They looked exactly the same, and they were smaller than his parents', as if they were made to fit only one person. Chris' bed was like this. Russell glanced at Tabasa, uncertain.

"What is it?" asked Tabasa.

Russell tightened his hold on his bag of belongings and decided to step away. He hadn't expected there to be a real bed for him. He'd never had one at home. He'd never deserved one at home. He didn't understand why Tabasa had chosen this. Russell had just gotten out of jail, wasn't that proof that he was a bad person? Bad people didn't get good beds. Russell went back to the living room and just stood there, staring at the couch and the table and the chairs. He was lost. Everything was so unfamiliar. The silence was deafening after spending months in Copperfield. He didn't feel safe. 

"Russell?" said Tabasa's voice behind him, and he spun around to face the man. Tabasa stopped a few feet away from him. He had a small frown on his face and his blue eyes were seeking. "Did something... scare you in the bedroom?"

Russell didn't know what to answer. He just didn't feel safe. Tabasa took another step forward when he didn't answer, but Russell quickly took a step back. Tabasa froze.

"...Russell?"

There was something in Tabasa's voice that made Russell shiver. It was something soft and questioning, something that he hadn't heard in a long time. He didn't know how to deal with that. He didn't want to deal with that. The situation was overwhelming. Everything was so unfamiliar. He felt unsafe. Russell wanted to run. 

"Russell, hey."

Tabasa raised a hand and spoke in that gentle, steady tone, and Russell was reminded of the time at the zoo when he'd done exactly this. He remembered that it had ended with Tabasa's hand on his shoulder, the compulsion to stay, and a feeling of safety. He'd accepted it back then. But Russell didn't want to accept it now, because he couldn't trust that those things wouldn't hurt him. He couldn't trust that he was allowed nice things without a hidden condition for having them, without clear rules to follow so that he'd deserve them, without punishments to compensate for using them. It wasn't safe. 

The plastic bag hit the floor with a thump and Russell bolted for the door. The handle gave beneath his hand without a hitch, but a shock shot through his arm when the door was brutally held back from opening further than a few inches. His gaze shot up and he saw that there was a golden metal chain bolting it in place. A trap. 

He heard footsteps behind him and his brain fizzled with stale and fresh dread altogether, sending adrenalin rocketing through his body. He had to hide. Russell threw himself in the open kitchen. There was nowhere to hide. He ducked behind the counter and scrambled across the floor to huddle in the corner. He could hear his own quick, chopped breathing in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

There was no noise. When Russell finally opened his eyes again, he saw that Tabasa was standing in front of the kitchen and staring at him with wide eyes. They gazed at each other. 

Tabasa looked away and ran his fingers through his hair, beneath his hood. He stared at the wall. Then he stared at the door. Then he looked back at Russell.

"...That surprised me." He let his hand fall back at his side. "I don't know what I did to scare you, Russell, but I didn't mean to. I'm sorry... Are you okay?"

Russell didn't answer. Tabasa hesitated, and he took a step forward, but he stopped again when he saw Russell stiffen. He looked lost, too.

"Uh... Okay." Tabasa took a deep breath. "...Okay. I'll just... leave you alone, for now. You need to be alone, right? This is a lot to take in, I bet... That's fine. Take your time. You can do what you want." He glanced at the door again, briefly, then returned his attention to Russell. "And if you want to go outside, you can. You just have to slide the bolt open. I'm used to bolting the door whenever I'm inside but that doesn't mean you're locked in... I hope you understand that." He paused, and then repeated: "You can do what you want, Russell... I just want that to be clear."

Russell was still for a long moment, but he eventually regained control of himself long enough to give a little nod. Tabasa looked relieved by that.

"Okay, good. That's good. Uh... I'll leave you alone now. Tell me if you need anything."

Tabasa waited for Russell to react, but Russell just looked down at the floor. It was tile here. He saw Tabasa's shadow linger for a second, and then it receded. When Russell looked up again, he was alone. He listened to Tabasa's footsteps retreat in one of the other rooms. A door gently clicked shut. Then it was quiet. Russell didn't move.

Chapter Text

"Yer lookin' gloomy," observed Yumi over her glass of coke. 

Tabasa glanced at her and sighed. "I knew it wouldn't be easy, but..."

"This about Russell?"

"Yes." 

They were sitting in the bar at a small table together, next to the window. Tabasa took a sip of his beverage of choice, which was non alcoholic. Yumi didn't drink anymore and it felt weird to pick a beer when she had fruit juice or soda in her glass. The doctor had told her to avoid alcohol if she could: her brain had been damaged by the accident, and alcohol was bad for recovery. She even said she’d noticed that she’d become more sensitive to it. Yumi had told Tabasa not to bother on her account when it came to choosing his drink, but he preferred to accompany her. He'd picked grenadine syrup today. It was often either that, or club soda with cranberry juice. Yumi was more of an ice tea kind of person.

She waited for him to put down his glass, and asked: “So? What’s wrong?”

Tabasa pressed his lips together. A lot of things were wrong. It was difficult to know where to begin. 

"...You know how he used to be pretty quiet, right?"

"Yep."

"It's worse now... He's even more closed-off than before. I never know what's going on in his head. Except when he freaks out, I guess. He doesn't even freak out like before."

Yumi squinted at him. "What does that mean?"

"Well, I've seen him have one or two freak-outs before. Always very internal. It was generally that he'd stand very still for a few seconds and then he'd run away."

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. I've seen him do that too."

Tabasa's eyebrows jumped. "Really? When?"

Yumi tilted her head to think. "First time was... when he came over to the precinct because he had questions about a death we investigated. Apparently he knew the guy and didn't believe that he really was dead. He got upset when I told him, obviously. He did that thing ya just described. And then the second time was when..." She hesitated. "He got in my car and I thought somethin' was up with him. Like a beating. He ran when I asked to see his injury."

She fell silent, like she was lost in the memory. Yumi drifted off often in conversations. Like her slurring, it was a consequence to her brain injury which annoyed her, and she greatly disliked it when it was brought to her attention. Tabasa knew to gloss over it by now, keep talking and act like it hadn’t happened.

"Yes, exactly... That’s it. But he doesn't do that anymore, I mean, not exactly. He still runs. It's just that his freak-outs are way more obvious than before. He tried to run out of my apartment in the first ten minutes he was there, and when he realized I'd slid the bolt shut, he tried to hide in the kitchen. It was like he didn't even realize he could open the door. It was never my intention to lock him in, but I think he must've been too panicked to realize that. He was just... curled up in his corner, eyes shut, like he was hoping he'd wake up from a nightmare or something. I wasn't even... doing anything bad. I still don't know what set him off."

Yumi was grimly silent for a while. Tabasa took that moment to sip his drink.

"I've seen kids messed up by juvie before," said Yumi quietly. "Not to mention the shit they go through before ending up in there, sometimes. It can be difficult for them to adapt to a regular life."

Tabasa sighed. "I'm in contact with the therapist he saw while he was there... It's not just juvie."

"No shit," said Yumi with a dry, humorless chuckle.

"He gets nightmares," continued Tabasa after a beat. "He stops crying as soon as he wakes up but I can never get him to talk about it. He's got these moments where he completely stops speaking. His therapist says it happens in stressful situations. It was already hard enough to communicate with Russell before all of this, but when he goes nonverbal... It gets really complicated."

"Sounds like it."

"Yeah... Sometimes it feels like he wants to say something but he just can't tell me."

"What about writing it down?"

"Yeah, he's got some pens and a small notepad he always carries around just in case. His therapist resorted to that too, during some sessions where he wouldn't speak, but it doesn't always work. If Russell's done talking, he's done . Even if he's got something to say."

Yumi let out a low whistle and muttered: "Damn. And I bet the nightmares wake you up. No wonder yer lookin' so tuckered out."

There was that, and also the fact that the nightmares waking Tabasa up didn't only belong to Russell. Tabasa himself didn't always feel safe at home, but that wasn't something he was willing to delve into with Yumi, and Dr. Cardinal had assured him that Russell's aggressiveness wasn't directed outwardly anymore, anyway. She was certain of this. Only the memory of screaming monkeys and a metal pipe remained to keep Tabasa on his toes when Russell was around. Despite this memory, Tabasa was inclined to believe Dr. Cardinal; in the three days the boy had been living with him, he'd had to give Russell first-aid every morning because of fresh bloody scratches on his throat. Tabasa planned on getting him gloves to wear at night, on Dr. Cardinal's advice.

"Any news about...?"

Tabasa caught the hesitance in Yumi's voice and quickly answered before she had to speak Mr. Seager's name out loud. "They sent him home with a health aid coming by every day. Honestly, it's not looking good, but the Seagers don’t have the money for the hospital or a nursing home. I don’t think it changes anything that Mrs. Seager isn’t there to help take care of him... I doubt she would’ve been willing to care for someone in a vegetative state even if that someone's her husband."

"Still a vegetable, then," said Yumi with dark satisfaction.

"...Yeah," said Tabasa. It was better not to comment.

"Does Russell know?"

"Uh... We don't talk about his parents. He never brings it up, and... I don't really want to open that can of worms." 

"Wait, so ya don't know if anyone told him about his dad?"

"They did," quickly said Tabasa. "I know that his therapist did, at least. It's just... sometimes Russell's in a weird state where he hears what he's told but doesn't remember it, and that was already happening a lot in juvie. Dr. Cardinal's not too sure what he recalls about what she told her."

"Damn. It's not just my brain that’s scrambled, huh." Yumi sadly shook her head. "Poor kid."

"He'll get better," said Tabasa. He could only try to sound convincing.

Yumi offered him a little smile. "I'm sure he will, Tabs. He's got you now."

He remembered when Dr. Cardinal had told him that Russell had gotten triggered by Tabasa's first visit to juvie, but also what she'd said about Russell needing a wider support system. He shifted on his stool to face the officer at his side. "Yumi... You're also there for him. I think it could help him if he knew for sure that you're alive."

Yumi looked away and swirled the contents of her glass. "He knows that already."

"I'm not so sure," murmured Tabasa.

"He doesn't need to see me."

"How would you know?"

"It won't help him, Tabasa."

"But what if it does?"

Yumi set down her glass with a loud thunk and glared at him. "He saw me back there, Tabasa, and we both know he gets nightmares of what he saw even if he won't tell ya jack shit about it. He got traumatized because of me. We can't meet. Ya really think it'll make him happy to meet me when he was present for everything his shit dad did to me? Yer plan reeks."

Tabasa hesitated. He wanted to point out that Russell hadn't been the only one traumatized by that ordeal, and that it probably wasn't only for Russell's sake that Yumi was trying to convince herself that this was a bad idea, but Tabasa didn't have the bravery to speak his thoughts. He was never that kind of guy. He couldn't bring himself to be.

"...Okay," he said. "Forget I said anything."

Yumi shook her head, and she downed her glass in one go before slamming it back on the table and throwing a bill beside it for the bartender. "I'm going," she moodily said.

Tabasa's eyes widened. "What? But-"

"Next time, don't come up with more stupid ideas." She shrugged on her brown leather jacket and grabbed her walking stick. "That's all I gotta say. 'Night."

"Yumi, hold on," Tabasa said, but she'd already limped halfway across the bar and all he could do was helplessly watch her leave out the door. He knew better than to run after her. She hated that it was so easy to catch up with her. He turned back around and stared at his half-empty glass, and then he sighed.

"Tough night, huh," said the bartender as he came up to take Yumi's bill. He looked about Yumi's age, with dark hair and dark eyes, always wearing the same white shirt with the first buttons undone and the same black sleeveless vest. It made Tabasa think of the way Russell always wanted to wear his striped red overcoat over any other piece of clothing. Despite the bartender's blunt demeanor, Yumi was friendly with him. Then again, thought Tabasa, Yumi was friendly with everyone. 

"You could say that," answered Tabasa, a tad ruefully.

"...Hmm. I get it." He picked up Yumi's glass. "The shop's closin' early today. Don't be mopin' around for too long," he said, and then he left Tabasa alone with his drink.

"All right... Thanks, doctor. I'll take care of that."

Tabasa hung up and put his phone down on the table, and he looked over towards the couch where Russell was sitting. The boy had stopped reading and was staring at him.

"That was Dr. Cardinal," said Tabasa. "She found someone you could see outside of juvie. She called to say that she already referred you to this new therapist."

Russell put his book down and asked if that meant he wouldn't see Dr. Cardinal again.

"You know she's very busy looking after the others in juvie, she can't keep track of all her patients when they leave. She told you about this. You don't remember?" gently asked Tabasa.

Russell looked away. When he looked up again, he asked who the other psychiatrist would be.

"She told me it was a certain Mr. Ambrose. He's not a doctor, but Dr. Cardinal is confident that he'll be the right therapist for you."

Russell asked where Mr. Ambrose worked.

"I'll drive you there, don't worry."

Russell didn't ask anything else. He picked his book back up and focused on that instead. Tabasa couldn't tell how Russell was feeling, and he hoped that Dr. Cardinal had made the right choice. The intercom suddenly buzzed and Russell jumped, his blue gaze shooting to Tabasa in an unspoken question. 

"I'm not expecting anyone, I would've warned you about it otherwise. Hold on." He got up and went to pick up the call. "Hello?"

Tabasa was surprised to hear a familiar southern drawl speak on the other end of the line, slurred but decisive. "It's Yumi. I changed my mind. What floor are y'all at?"

"Uh... The third. It's the door at the end of the hallway, on your left when you get out of the elevator."

"All right. See ya in a sec."

"Hold on," quickly said Tabasa. 

"Yeah?"

"Just... hold on. I mean, you can come up, but wait next to the elevator when you're there."

"Gotcha." The line went dead, and Tabasa lowered the phone back into its cradle. His thoughts were racing. He turned around and saw that Russell had come closer. Tabasa said: "We have a visitor. A friend," he quickly added when he saw the wariness clouding Russell's eyes. 

Russell suspiciously asked which friend that was.

"Do you... uh..." Tabasa fumbled. There was no way to go about this delicately. "Russell, would you like to talk to Yumi?"

Russell's spine immediately stiffened. His face went blank. He shook his head and said that she was dead. 

"She's not dead," said Tabasa. "This isn't a trick, Russell. You know I wouldn't do that to you."

But she's dead, insisted Russell. His voice was thin and his eyes were a bit wide. Tabasa was still learning the cues in Russell's body language, voice and facial expressions; even so, he could tell that the boy was wavering somewhere on the thin line between fear and panic.

"She's all right, I promise," quickly said Tabasa. "She came here to see you and she just wants to check on how you've been doing."

Russell started shaking his head and took a step back. He said that she was dead. He said that he didn't want to see her. He didn't want to see her eyes.

Tabasa didn't try to stop him from widening the distance between them. Heart sinking, he softly said: "Okay. You don't have to see her, then... It's fine. I'm just going to have to step outside and tell her, though."

Russell continued shaking his head, and then he spun around and ran to the closest locking door. Tabasa barely had the time to stand before he heard the bathroom click irrevocably shut. He sighed to himself and went to open the front door, where he saw Yumi leaning against the wall in front of the elevator.

"Hey there," said Yumi as he walked up to her, quickly pushing herself off the wall. She looked a bit embarrassed.

"Hey," said Tabasa. "I'm sorry, Yumi, but he hid in the bathroom. I think you were right... He's afraid."

Yumi frowned. "I came all this way like ya suggested I should, even had to ask Edward for a lift. What's goin' on? Yer the one who said this would be a good idea!"

Tabasa frowned back. "Some forewarning would've been nice, you sprung this on us."

"Oh, so this is my fault then?"

"No, that's not-" Tabasa broke off and took a brief moment to calm down. "Sorry. Look... I didn't have the time to prepare Russell for this. I'm just wishing I could've gone about it in a better way."

Yumi's hard gaze softened a bit and she nodded in understanding. "All right, I get it. It's my bad, too. Should've sent ya a message. I guess I was scared that I'd psych myself out halfway." She shifted her weight against the wall once more. "So what's Russell afraid of, exactly?"

The elevator doors slid open. Tabasa recognized one of his neighbors stepping out, waved at him, and then told Yumi: "We shouldn't talk about this stuff here."

"Well to be perfectly honest with ya, I'd love to come in, 'cause standin' around like this is tiring," admitted Yumi.

"Oh!" exclaimed Tabasa when he realized that he'd been making Yumi wait for a while already. "Right, come on in, let's sit down."

Yumi lifted an eyebrow. "Ya sure? Don't wanna spook Russell."

"If he really doesn't want to see you then he won't come out until you leave... But, to be honest, I'd like to try and let him hear your voice. I won't force him to greet you, but maybe... I mean, we have to start somewhere."

"All right, yer the boss," said Yumi with a shrug, and she started walking towards Tabasa's apartment.

Tabasa shut the door once they were both inside, bolting it out of habit. She made her way past the kitchen and sat in one of the chairs of the living room. Tabasa did the same. Yumi looked unhappy as she shot a glance towards the bathroom door. "I never would've guessed that one day he'd be so afraid to see me," she remarked. "We got along jus' fine."

"I don't think it's a question of getting along... To answer your question from earlier, Yumi, he talked about eyes. He said he saw your eyes."

Yumi looked like she felt both confused and concerned, at first, and then understanding dawned on her face. "Oh... Probably seen other things, too. Y'think he's afraid I still look like that?"

"Maybe," said Tabasa. "I never know for sure unless he tells me, but that would make sense."

Yumi turned towards the bathroom again and raised her voice. "I'm fine, Russell. If ya just come out of that bathroom you'll see it for yerself." They both stared at the door for a while. They didn't hear a peep. Both adults turned back to each other and she said: "At least he'll have heard my voice like ya wanted. That counts for summin’, don't it?"

"Hopefully," said Tabasa.

There was a click and both their heads snapped in the direction of the sound. The bathroom door opened to reveal a big blue eye. It was very quiet for a moment. Then the door slowly swung fully open and Russell stood there, pale and slack-jawed, gazing at Yumi with wide, wide eyes. Tabasa remembered how awed he'd been when he'd seen her at the office party for the first time since the incident. He could only imagine what Russell was feeling at the moment.

"Well, if it ain't the Seager boy," Yumi softly said.

Russell's knees buckled beneath him and he sagged against the doorframe, knuckles white where his fingers gripped at the wood. Alarm coursed through Tabasa and he shot to his feet, but then he noticed the tears welling in Russell's eyes and realized that all of this was simply the breaking of a dam.

"Russell, it's okay," he promptly reassured him. He didn't dare to come any closer, didn't want to trigger another flight reaction when Russell had finally come out.

"Hey, hey," Yumi quickly said, and she also got up, gesturing the boy closer. "C'mere, Russell. It's okay."

Russell let go of the doorframe and took an unsteady step forward, but then he clutched at his chest and soundlessly crouched down on the ground. His shoulders were shaking. He wasn't making any noise at all. Yumi took a step towards him, but Tabasa held out his hand to stop her. She stilled. Her gaze was questioning and Tabasa shook his head in warning. He could understand why she felt the need to come closer to Russell, but Tabasa had lived at his side for enough days to know that the boy's emotions were volatile and his reactions unpredictable. Notably, any attempts at comforting touch could backfire spectacularly if Russell wasn't in the right mindset.

"...Russell?" cautiously called Tabasa.

Yumi shot Tabasa an uncertain look, and then at Russell. A contrite frown appeared on her brow and she said: "Aw, man, I didn't mean to upset ya so much, Russell. I didn't mean to make ya cry."

Russell lifted a tear-streaked face to them and rubbed his eyes, and then he stared at his wet fingers with a confused expression, as if he hadn't realized that he was crying.

"Why are you crouching? Are you hurting anywhere?" asked Tabasa. 

Russell curled up on himself again and whispered that his chest hurt.

"Okay," said Tabasa. "I know what's happening to you, Russell, don't worry. It's not dangerous. Can I get you a glass of water? Will you drink it?"

Russell nodded, barely. 

"Can Yumi come closer to you?"

Russell shot the officer a teary, circumspect glance, as if he couldn't quite believe that it really was her.

"Jus' so we can chat," said Yumi. "But I'm warnin' ya, if we're gonna chat, then it better be on that couch. Looks comfy."

Russell looked at the couch, and then back at Yumi, and he shook his head no. Not the couch. 

Yumi glanced at it too, and she looked momentarily troubled, but then she smiled at him and said: "Nothing's gonna happen to me if I sit on it, promise. We're all friends here. Watch."

Tabasa decided that Yumi had the situation under control and went in the kitchen to get the promised glass of water. He watched across the counter as Yumi led the way and went to sit on the couch. Russell's gaze silently tracked her, the look in his eyes intense and disbelieving. Tabasa caught himself hoping that this would help with the nightmares. Maybe if Russell was convinced that Yumi was all right, then his brain would cut him some slack. Tabasa focused on pouring water into the glass he'd picked off the drying rack. When he was done and looked back at the living room, Russell was approaching the couch where Yumi was sitting.

"Boy, am I glad to see ya," she told him with a bright smile.

Russell stopped a little ways away from her, shoulders still hiked up, and quietly asked why she was talking like that. Yumi's face fell, but only a fraction, and she recovered admirably fast.

"I got brain damage from not breathin' for a while. It affected the way I articulate words. I'm seeing a speech therapist for it, though, so I'm hopin' it'll get better after some time."

Russell nodded, glanced at the walking stick and then looked back at Yumi. Even when he could only see Russell from the back, Tabasa could imagine the question in his eyes. Yumi understood too.

"I need that to walk because I tire out real fast. I see another therapist for that. Physical, that one. I'd love to drop the limp, but, uh. That's probably not happenin'." She laughed then. It rang hollow, just a cover-up for insecurities that Tabasa had already caught glimpses of during their meetings at the Tokomo.

Russell slowly nodded, and then came closer to the couch, but he hesitated just as he was going to sit. He looked up at Yumi and said that he was sorry. It was different from the time he'd apologized to Tabasa. His face was shuttered but his voice was small, his shoulders were hunched, he behaved like he expected something horrible to happen. Yumi looked confused.

"What for?"

Tabasa hadn't thought it possible, but Russell made himself even smaller. The boy said: for what happened at home. Yumi's eyes nearly popped out of her head and she exclaimed: "What on god's green earth would ya be responsible fer, Russell?"

Russell ducked his head. Tabasa winced and hurried forward with the glass of water. "Here you go, Russ. Drink up." He glanced at Yumi as he added: "No one's mad at you."

Yumi seemed to get the message and she quickly said: "Oh, I'm not angry, Russell. Never, not at you. Sorry for raisin' my voice."

Russell carefully eyed them both, and then he took the glass of water out of Tabasa's hands and started gulping it down. When he was done, Tabasa took it back and asked: "Better now?"

Russell nodded. Tabasa sat on the couch with Yumi, empty glass in hand, leaving enough space so that his legs didn't touch hers. It seemed to help Russell make up his mind about doing the same. They watched him take the spot at the end of the couch, and then Yumi leaned forward to catch his eye. "None of what happened in that house was yer fault, Russell. What yer dad chose to do isn't on ya."

Russell argued that she'd come to the house because of him.

"I was there 'cause I chose to be there," Yumi corrected him. "There were better ways to go about confronting yer dad about what he was doing to ya and I chose the wrong one. I didn't have to go to yer house, but I did, and I regret that I made that choice. But I made that choice, Russell. Not you. Not anyone else. It's on me. Got it?"

Russell looked away. It was obvious that he didn't believe her. Yumi's features twisted like she didn't know how to convince him. After a beat, she said: "I'm the one who's sorry, Russell. I'm sorry ya had to see me like that, and I wish you'd never seen it."

Russell said: I thought you were dead. He wasn't looking up. His hands were neatly folded and hidden between his legs.

Yumi sucked in a breath that was shaky with emotion. "I thought I was a goner too. I'm lucky the both of you found me when ya did. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but I'm glad ya did." Her voice strained. "Ya saved my life. I can never thank you boys enough."

Russell was quiet and kept gazing at the wall. Tabasa hesitated, and he slowly reached out to her. Yumi shot him a grateful look and took hold of his hand. She was shaking a bit, but her grip was strong.

"Russell," she said. Russell looked at her after a beat. Tabasa thought that he looked a bit distant. "I owe ya another apology, for not coming to see ya sooner. Part of me knew that you were probably all bent out of shape about not being able to see if I was really alive, but the other was ashamed. Still is. Ashamed that you saw me so..." Her voice broke. She sniffled, brusquely wiped her eyes on her sleeve, looked up again. "But Tabasa was right, ya needed this. So I'm glad I got over myself and came here today." She looked at Tabasa. "Thanks for talking me into it."

"...I wouldn't say I talked you into it," said Tabasa. "You took the decision on your own."

"Well, you and Edward did, then," she said with a watery smile.

"Okay," conceded Tabasa, "if you say it like that."

"Yep," said Yumi, and she sniffled again.

Tabasa looked over at Russell. "You okay, buddy?"

Russell slowly nodded, but he had a blank look now, totally empty as if his face had been wiped clean of emotion. Tabasa knew that look. He'd felt it coming on from the growing distance in Russell's eyes. 

"Russell," he called. Russell looked up. Tabasa asked: "How are you feeling?"

Russell shrugged. Then he said that he didn't feel like anything.

"Yeah... Okay." Tabasa turned to Yumi. "I think we should end it here. Russell's not up to it anymore."

"Is he okay?" asked Yumi, concerned. "Russell, are you okay?"

"Yes, he's... Well, no, not okay, but he will be," Tabasa answered in his stead. "It's just that the conversation probably brought up some stuff, and sometimes he needs to put some space between himself and that stuff. You two will be able to pick up the conversation later, promise."

"As long as he's all right," said Yumi, and she got off the couch to follow Tabasa's lead. "So does that mean it's okay for both of ya if I come by again?"

"Fine by me, but I'll check in with Russell another time. He might say something now and change his mind later."

"All right. Got it."

Suddenly, Russell looked up at Yumi and asked her what he was supposed to do. She'd know, because she'd caught many criminals. So what was a murderer like him supposed to do? Yumi looked at Tabasa for guidance, but he helplessly looked back at her. She turned back to Russell.

"Yer not a murderer, Russell, but if my answer can help ya... I don't think it's important what criminals are supposed to do, because even if they did what they should, it doesn't mean that their actions would be genuine. I think that what they can do is choose to become better people. They can try to make up for their past and contribute to making the world a better place." She paused. "But that's a vague objective, and it's not always easy, and most importantly, it doesn't apply to ya, Russell." 

She stepped in front of him and painstakingly crouched down in front of him. Tabasa's hand shot out to stabilize her and she didn't tell him off for the hand on her shoulder. Her attention was entirely trained on Russell. She reached for one of his forearms and very gently squeezed it, leaving him the easy opportunity to pull away if he wanted to.

"Yer not a criminal, Russell, yer just a kid who's been treated like one. And it's been happenin' for way too long." 

Russell asked her how she could be so sure.

She smiled at him. "I'm a police officer, boy. I know that kinda stuff."

Chapter Text

Russell woke up to an empty room. He got up, made his bed, walked to the closet on his side of the room to get his clothes. They were clean. They always smelled good. They'd been clean in Copperfield, too, but they hadn't been his clothes and they'd never smelled this nice; and in his old home, they'd always smelled bad. Tabasa had said he could keep his red vest but he'd insisted on buying Russell a new dress shirt and new pants, as well as plenty of other things. Tabasa was nice to him. Russell was still careful; it had only been one week.

Russell folded the clothes beneath his arms and left to change in the bathroom. On his way there, he crossed paths with Tabasa who was sitting at the table. He wasn't wearing his coat, and rarely used his hood when they were home alone. There were a lot of papers in front of him and he looked very focused, but his expression relaxed when he noticed Russell stepping out of the bedroom. 

He lifted a hand and said: "Hey, Russell."

Russell said hi back.

"Slept well?"

Russell said yes. He stared at the papers. 

Tabasa followed his gaze and explained: "I'm trying to prepare your return to school for eighth grade, in september... They make it way more complicated than it needs to be."

Russell remembered his dad getting annoyed every time he had to take care of this or that school modality. He'd drink to make it less of a pain to handle, and then he'd get angry about wasting his time on paperwork, and then he'd get angry at Russell, because it was Russell's fault that he had to do all that annoying paperwork in the first place.

Russell nodded and quickly went to the bathroom to dress up. He liked that the bathroom was clean and white. He'd investigated and discovered that Tabasa didn't really use the drawer at the bottom of the set, except for stocking brand new toothbrushes and bars of soap. All Russell needed was a diary, now. The problem was that he hadn't wanted to go outside ever since he'd panicked the first time. Tabasa's apartment, while still a bit unfamiliar, felt safer than the unknown neighborhood. He didn't want to see other people. His breathing sped up every time he even thought of walking out the door. Tabasa hadn't hurt him so far, and that value was more certain than the potential harm he risked encountering outside.

When Russell stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tabasa was still working on the papers. His lips were pressed together in a line. He didn't look happy. He didn't look angry, either. Russell made sure to be extra quiet just in case. As he tip-toed into the kitchen, his gaze caught onto the files again. School. Russell wasn't sure he wanted to return to school. He'd been mostly ignored before, but what if they learned that he'd gone to jail? What if his classmates started acting like his fellow inmates had? Russell didn't want to be shoved around and laughed at all the time.

He opened a cupboard and very slowly, quietly, carefully pulled out a plate which he set down on the counter with a whisper of a clatter. Then he turned to the pantry to get sliced bread, and was startled when he heard Tabasa speak up. 

"I went out and bought a new chocolate spread, if you want to try it."

Russell glanced over the counter. Tabasa hadn't turned around. Russell said okay, thank you, sir- and then quickly amended the sir to Tabasa. It had only been one week. It was difficult to shake off Copperfield's rules.

"By the way... Are you sure you don't want me to buy anything in particular?"

Russell gazed at the back of Tabasa's head, where the collar of his cream turtleneck brushed against the loose mess of black hair that curled slightly at his nape. Tabasa insisted every so often on asking about what Russell needed him to buy at the mall. Russell never had an answer. He wasn't used to getting asked this sort of thing and his brain always drew up a blank when it happened, caught between expecting it to be a trick question and genuinely not knowing the answer. 

Russell said no.

"Okay," said Tabasa, still not looking up, absent-mindedly twirling a pen in his fingers. It had a cartoonish plastic dog head at the end. Tabasa had a lot of animal-themed pens and pencils lying around the apartment.

Russell looked for the chocolate spread and picked it up along with two slices of bread which he set down on the plate he'd prepared. He went to get a knife and tensed when the utensils drawer clattered. Tabasa still didn't react. Russell grabbed a round knife as quickly as he could to avoid making noise for too long and shut the drawer. Then, finally, he could make his breakfast in total silence, relieved that Tabasa hadn't told him off for all the noise Russell had been making at his back. 

As Russell munched on his breakfast, he realized that he should have asked Tabasa to buy a notebook that he could've used as a diary. It was too late now. He didn't want to bother Tabasa more than he already had. It was strange, living with Tabasa; everything was so calm. There was never a trace of alcohol in the apartment. No bursts of voices. No dirty sounds. No pain. The only thing that ever woke Russell up at night were his own nightmares; there were no grunting beasts when he opened his eyes. Sometimes Tabasa was there at his side, awake and telling him that he was safe, and Russell had quickly figured out that things hadn't changed since Copperfield: he was still waking others up with his screaming. For some reason, Tabasa hadn't gotten mad at him for that. Even in the mornings, Tabasa had yet to pull him out of bed when Russell slept in late. Russell didn't understand why. 

But it had only been a week. Things would change.

They had lunch together that day, just like they had all the days before that, and Russell couldn't help but wonder why Tabasa was so intent on eating together every time. He even talked during the meal, which had never been in Russell’s habits, especially not at home. When they were done eating, Tabasa asked for his help with cleaning the dishes; and once they were done cleaning, Tabasa let him go do whatever he wanted, as usual. 

The doorbell rang at 2PM. Russell stiffened on his bed in the bedroom, where he'd been reading another book. He listened to Tabasa get up from the table, trudge to the intercom, and unhook the phone from its cradle.

"Yes?" ... "Oh, Chris! Sure, I'll tell him. Hold on." Tabasa's voice became clearer as if he'd turned towards the bedroom. "Russell?" 

Russell put down his book and slipped off his bed to wander out in the living room. 

Tabasa gestured to the intercom with a smile. "Chris is downstairs, he wants to spend the day with you. How about it?"

Russell hesitated. He had missed his friend since he'd last seen him. He wasn't sure where they stood, but it had to mean something that Chris was willing to come here so that they could hang out again. Russell remembered all the times Chris had had his back in the street. Maybe things would be all right if he didn't go outside alone. He nodded.

"Great!" Tabasa exclaimed, and then he turned back to the phone and said: "He's going to come down, just wait a bit."

He was immobile for a beat, probably listening to Chris' answer, and then he hung up and walked past Russell. 

"So, first things first, here's your key." 

Tabasa plucked the key off its hook and handed it to him. The light-up keychain he'd bought for Russell at the zoo was hanging from it. It wasn't Russell who'd had the idea; Tabasa had suggested it when he'd seen the unused keychain lying amidst the meager belongings in Russell's plastic bag after getting out of Copperfield. Russell had never known where to put it to use, and it had just been residing in one of his pants pockets because he hadn't wanted to lose it. When they'd taken his clothes at Copperfield, he'd been too far away from it all to think to reclaim it. He wouldn't have gotten it back anyway. Those things weren't allowed within Copperfield's walls. He'd been surprised to find it in the exact same spot when his clothes had been returned to him six months later.

"And this is my number," said Tabasa, handing him a small slip of paper next. "I still think it would be a good idea to buy you a phone, but if you still don't want one..."

Russell just shook his head. Tabasa had talked about it before, showing him different models on his computer, but Russell had seen the prices and phones were very expensive. He didn't want Tabasa to pay all that money and then be angry at Russell when he’d inevitably end up regretting that he’d wasted it on him.

"Suit yourself," said Tabasa with a little shrug, and then he turned around. Russell watched him disappear in the bedroom. He heard the man rummage in the closet, and when Tabasa came back, he was holding sunglasses and a hat. "I bought these for you in case you decided to go outside at some point. It's very sunny today… Want to try them on?"

Confused, Russell cautiously reached out and let Tabasa put both items in his hands. He'd had a hat once, when he was little, which he'd lost. Dad had yelled at him before deciding that Russell didn't deserve another one if he was just going to waste them. The same went with sunglasses when he outgrew his only pair. Russell hesitated, then put on Tabasa's gifts. The cap was the right size after some small adjustments. The glasses were a bit too wide, but he figured that it was better this way since that meant Tabasa wouldn't have to buy others as Russell grew up. He internally instructed himself to never lose either hat or sunglasses.

Tabasa proudly grinned at him. "Looking good, buddy."

Russell looked up and, unsure of what else to say in the face of such radiance, mumbled a quiet thank you.

"Off you go," cheerfully said Tabasa. "Don't come back too late."

Off Russell went. He joined up with Chris downstairs and felt a bubble of buoyancy in his chest when his friend's face lit up as soon as he caught sight of him through the glass doors. Chris looked happy to see him. Russell had expected... something different. He walked out of the building and Chris immediately started talking.

"Man, I'm glad to see you. My mom said I should wait so that's why I didn't come before today. You okay? You look so much better than last time!"

Russell quickly looked around them, just in case, even though he wasn't sure what he was checking for exactly, and then he faced Chris and said that he did feel better.

"That's great. Killer new shades, by the way," Chris complimented him with a flick at his hat and the sunglasses perched atop it. Russell said thanks. Chris grinned at him and waved him forward. "Come on, let's go. I thought it'd be good to walk around in your new neighborhood for a little bit."

As they walked away from Tabasa's building, Chris started asking Russell about his week, and the latter was surprised that they were talking so easily. It was just like it had been in the car: he had a strange feeling of disconnection, of being off, because he didn't think that it was right for him to have the company of a friendly presence after everything he'd done, but Chris was there anyway. This time, Chris must have come prepared, because he didn't stop talking even though Russell kept quiet. It was like none of it mattered to Chris: the trials, Copperfield, the six months spent apart from each other. They'd both grown in that space of time. Chris was a good head taller now. Russell felt that Chris had changed in other ways, too, yet their conversation was just like usual.

"You're answering more than last time," observed Chris at the thirty-minute mark. "That's good."

He sounded very sure of himself, so Russell went along with that assessment. Chris told him about his own week and then brought the topic of school back around, and Russell told him that Tabasa was taking care of that, and Chris looked very happy about it. He even sounded appreciative of Tabasa. Russell last remembered that the relationship between the two had been a bit tense, especially on Chris' side, because of his lack of trust in adults; but it seemed that he'd changed his mind since then. Russell wondered if that meant that he could trust Tabasa a little more, himself.

They made their way across town and ended up walking through the usual park two hours later, and that was when they heard familiar voices coming from ahead. They were girly voices, shouting and laughing together, one of which rooted Chris to the spot and made his eyes widen. 

He whispered: "It's Gardenia and the others!"

Russell continued to walk ahead, completely nonplussed, as he intended on going right past. He didn't want to talk to other people even if one of those people was Chris' eternal crush. He heard the other boy running to catch up to him. A hand caught him at the elbow and he immediately froze. 

"Hold up, Russ," quickly said Chris, his brown eyes darting in the direction of the playground again. "There's somethin' I need to tell you."

Russell tugged his arm out of Chris' grasp. His friend let go, but he didn't seem to notice Russell's discomfort, focused as he was on whatever he was about to explain. Chis was frowning. He looked troubled. 

"There's, uh... been rumors about you at school." He shifted awkwardly. "I think it's 'cause one of the girls' parents works at the police, but anyway, people know that shit went down at your house and that's why you were gone for a while. I heard some people sayin' you got jail time. It's probably jus' stuff that they're throwin' around when they don't know nothin' but, uh, I think you should know. Girls like to gossip and all, girl stuff, y'know. We can turn around if you w–"

A shrill cry rang out. "Hey, it's Chris and Russell!" 

Both boys spun around, and their gazes landed on one of their classmates standing right outside the half-open gate to the playground. It was Melody. Chris muttered something under his breath which Russell only caught the gist of, and it wasn't very nice. Her group of friends were quick to join up at the gate. Russell ended up the target of five very curious gazes.

"Woah, it really is him," said one of the girls. 

Gardenia was leaning against the low wall with her arms crossed over it, and she said: "Hi, Chris and Russell."

"Hi," reluctantly said Chris. Surprisingly, he didn't look that excited that she was talking to him, but maybe that was because there were all of her friends right there.

Melody strutted up to the two boys and asked Russell: "So, where were you? How come you stopped coming to school?"

"Nunna your business," said Chris in a curt tone.

She ignored him. "Did you really go to jail?"

"Melody!" gasped the girls.

She spun around and exclaimed: "What? We all want to know."

Chris stepped between her and Russell. "I told you to back off, you nosy bitch."

She glared at him. "I wasn't talking to you, I was asking Russell. Stop opening your big mouth all the time, Chris, you're not that interesting."

"That's rich , comin' from you."

Gardenia spoke up before her friend could say anything else. "Are you gonna come back to school?"

Everyone looked at Russell. He'd never liked being the center of attention, and in that moment he realized that he liked it even less than before. He looked away and quietly said yes. In september.

"You missed a lot of stuff. I could help you catch up," she suggested. Some of the girls started giggling when she said that, the others stared at her like she'd grown wings. Gardenia frowned at them. "What?"

"Nothing," said one of them with a little grin.

"Oh, Russell should come to your party next week," exclaimed another. 

"Fat chance," scoffed Chris. Russell was surprised to see how different he was acting compared to the time they’d been invited to Gardenia’s birthday. 

“Why?” the girl asked, a pout on her lips.

"As if you actually want either of us there. We're not dumb. You just want to have Russell there so you can ask him about his stuff."

"You really can come over if you want to, though. I have a pool. There's gonna be a barbecue and everything, it's gonna be fun! Are you sure you don't want to?" asked Gardenia. "My mom won't mind two more guests."

Russell saw Chris hesitate. He saw the glance his friend threw in his direction. Chris probably wanted to go, if only to be able to talk to Gardenia, but he was looking out for Russell. Russell wasn't sure how he felt about getting involved in a party so soon after getting out of Copperfield, especially when he remembered what had happened during the last one. Gardenia was gazing at them intensely. It looked like she wanted them to come. Russell realized that he wanted to talk to Tabasa about this before he did anything else. 

He answered that he needed to ask for permission first.

"Okay!" said Gardenia. "Chris, you can tell me the answer at school."

"...Right," said Chris, looking uncertain.

"See you at the party, Russell," said Melody, and the girls finally walked away.

Chris turned and frowned at Russell. "You sure about this, man?"

Russell shrugged. He didn't feel sure about anything these days.

They ambled around until they reached the docks and sat down to watch the sun go down, just like before. Chris sat atop his usual mooring post while Russell let his legs hand over the edge above the dark glittering waves. They were silent, now. It was enough to simply sit in each other's company. The weather was mild and there was a light warm breeze ruffling their hair. Birds soared in circles above their heads in skies that were drenched red and violet. Russell thought about the woman and her puddle. He felt the faraway aching pull of the water. He wondered what would happen if he disappeared in these waves, swallowed by the depths; what would have happened if he'd died from those pills. Maybe he would've finally made his mother happy.

"Russell?"

The word was spoken low and soft. Russell looked up at the other boy. He wasn't used to perceiving such a subdued quality in his friend's voice. Chris was gazing at him with a serious expression, but as soon as their eyes met, he looked away. His hands were tightly clasped together and it looked like he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Chris eventually looked at Russel again.

"I'm glad you're back, man. I mean it." His gaze flickered away then back again. "...I missed you a whole lot. You're the only one who really gets me, y'know? You're my only friend."

Russell stared at him. 

Chris chuckled, brief and quiet. "I mean, yeah, you're a little weird. I don't even know if I'm your friend. I don't know if you missed me too, I don't know if you care about me that way, I don't know if I'm even that important to you. It used to bother me, y'know. But after all this... I don't give a damn. Things have been kinda shit without you around. There's my mom, sure, but... that's pretty much it. All the other problem kids are too different. They're wild. Not like you. They're not my friends." 

He sighed and twisted his hands together, staring into the lapping waves. It was getting darker.

"Maybe I sound stupid. I feel stupid. It's whatever, though. Even if you don't really consider me a friend 'cause we always had the whole drug dealing, hiding place, not-skipping-class-alone thing goin' on, I know I do. It's a lot better when you're there. I want us to keep hangin' out. I don't want you to disappear on me again. I want us to keep bein' friends, or... whatever it is we are." His gaze moved away from the water to rest on Russell's face. He didn't say anything else. He was done talking.

Russell didn't know what he was feeling. It was a bit overwhelming. He thought that he felt confused. There was the bubble again, light and shimmery, floating in his chest. There was something heavy behind his eyes. There was a soft, bruised aching in his heart. He didn't know what to say.

"Sorry for dumping all this on you, dude," said Chris. "I was thinkin' about it all week. Had to be said. You don't have to say anythin' though, I know feelings ain't your strong point."

Russell lowered his gaze to the waves and tried to figure out what it was that he wanted to answer, because there had to be an answer to everything that Chris had said. Russell wasn't sure what the right one was. He could try and go back on some of the things that Chris had said, try to pick out those that he felt were similar to things he'd told himself. He hesitantly opened his mouth and said that he'd missed Chris, too.

"Oh," said Chris, sounding a bit surprised. Then he sounded happier when he said: "Cool. I mean, no, it must’ve sucked, but... I guess I'm just glad that I'm not the only one who felt that way."

Neither of them had anything to add after that, so a few minutes later they got up and started heading back. Russell told Chris that he could go home on his own, but Chris wasn't having it, so they headed down the streets together. Russell had always felt better staying out late rather than going home, and maybe it was that he was used to that, because he was in no hurry to get back. 

It was past nighttime when they reached Tabasa's building. Russell was surprised to recognize the two people sitting in front of the entrance. Tabasa's head jerked up when he heard their footsteps, and so did Yumi's, though she stayed seated where she was while Tabasa immediately got to his feet.

"Russell! Where were you?"

Russell's steps faltered. He didn't like the intensity he could hear in Tabasa's voice. Chris noticed and stopped walking too.

"Tabasa," Yumi called after him, but Tabasa didn't pay attention to her.

"I was worried!" His strides were long and fast as he crossed the distance between them. A knot of tension bundled up in Russell's gut and he took an involuntary step back. His back hurt.

"Tabasa," Yumi called again, stern this time. Tabasa slowed down to a stop a few feet away from the boys. His features were taught and his blue eyes wide as they went back-and-forth between Russell and Chris, and he reproached: "I told you not to come back late!"

"It's not late," argued Chris. "It's only like, 9:30PM."

"That is late! Kids your age shouldn't be wandering about when it's already night out!"

"That's what I tell'em. Never stops anyone," lightly said Yumi from the back. She was trying to join up with them with the help of her cane, but she was slower than Tabasa.

"We always do this, I don't see what the big deal is," said Chris belligerently. 

"The big deal is that it's not safe for you two!" Tabasa sounded like he couldn't believe that he had to explain that. "Chris, are you telling me your mom lets you walk around at this time of night and doesn't care what you do on your own?"

Chris' shoulders hunched. "Back the fuck off, you don't get to talk about her."

"Hey! Y'all better calm down now!"

The tension was mounting inside Russell and all around him, and he felt the niggling urge to escape. His back hurt. He didn't want to stay in the apartment with an angry Tabasa. It had never been a good thing to come back home. It was where he was a hated mistake. He wished he could hide. Suddenly, Russell thought of the bathroom in Tabasa’s apartment. He had his key to the apartment. He could run up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. He could escape the raised voices and the growing threat. 

Then, just as he wanted to move, Russell realized that his feet were rooted to the spot. His breath was shaking. He was shaking. 

He kept making everyone angry. He was going to get hurt again because he'd come home late, and Yumi was there, and that wasn't good, because Dad was angry and that was why he'd hurt her and then hurt Russell, and he'd kill them both, and Russel would deserve it because it was his fault, it was him, it was him who made everyone hate him and hurt him. It was him. It was his fault. There was a hand grabbing him, they were going to shove him, kick him, punch him, knock his head on the ground until he bled, and it would be his fault, his fault-

"Russell, hey, calm down man! What's happening?"

"Sorry, Chris, just-" The hand let go. Russell heard clothes rustle nearby when someone kneeled down in front of him, and he flinched, but no one touched him. The voice that spoke was soft and gentle. "Russell, it's Tabasa. It's Tabasa, okay? No one's angry at you. You're... No, nothing's your fault, I promise. It's okay, I'm not mad. I'm not mad. Russell? Look at me... I'm not angry at you."

Russell's eyes cracked open. He hadn't noticed that he'd closed them. He was crouching on the ground, curled up on himself. His heart was racing. He could see Tabasa's green coat in front of him.

"I'm sorry I raised my voice," apologized Tabasa. "I promise I'm not angry at you."

Russell slowly looked up. There was Tabasa kneeling in front of him, and Chris was standing on the side with a frown, and Yumi was standing behind Tabasa with a frown too. The frowns disappeared when they saw that Russell was looking at them.

"You okay, man?" asked Chris.

Russell didn't answer. He didn't know what to answer. He didn't want to answer.

Yumi sighed. "I told you, Tabs. Not a good idea. It's too soon to be changin' habits like this."

Tabasa turned around. "I was worried, I got carried away."

"Well, son, little piece of advice: don't get carried away next time."

"I know, I know..." Tabasa sounded defeated. "Sorry, Chris. That was out of line. I'll make an effort to understand where you're coming from with these late night walks." He fully faced Russell again. "Buddy? Wanna stand back up? ...Are you okay?"

Russell stood up and nodded, if by that Tabasa was asking if he was back in the present with them. He wasn't sure about the rest.

"Can you say something?"

Russell looked away and crossed his arms around his chest once more. He didn't speak.

"Well, that's that. Get'im inside," said Yumi. "I'll call a colleague to bring this one back home safe and sound."

"I don't need that," protested Chris.

"Ep-ep-ep. Shh. Ya don't get to argue with a police officer. And Tabasa, do a better job at handlin' yerself, will ya?"

"Yes, Yumi,” answered Tabasa a bit sheepishly. He turned to Russell. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

“Bye, Russ,” said Chris with a wave of his hand as he went down the street with Yumi. “See you.”

Russell nodded and followed Tabasa back inside. 

In the elevator, Tabasa said: “I’m really sorry, Russell.”

Russell didn’t answer. Tabasa didn’t say anything else, so Russell glanced up at him after a little bit. He thought that he looked sort of sad. The elevator stopped, and they quietly went back to the apartment together.

Chapter Text

Tabasa was very happy when Russell eventually told him about Gardenia's invitation. He said that was a great idea, and that he was glad that Russell wanted to make more friends, and that it wasn't a problem for him at all to give him a ride there. Russell himself wasn't particularly looking forward to the party. He'd only told Tabasa to see what he thought about it. Tabasa's enthusiasm, coupled with what Russell knew about Chris' constant quest to impress his crush and his unwillingness to go up to her alone, led him to take the decision to accept Gardenia's invitation. He figured that he'd just leave like the last time if anything went wrong. Tabasa took him to buy some swimming trunks almost right away, and even a pair of goggles which Russell decided he probably wouldn't wear too often because he looked silly in them.

When they drove up to Gardenia's big white house a few days later, it wasn't covered in pink and orange balloons anymore. It was still very pretty, though, and Tabasa gazed at it in awe.

"This is Gardenia's house?" he asked, like he needed to be sure that they weren't in the wrong place. Russell nodded. Tabasa murmured: "Wow..."

Russell had expected to simply be dropped off, but Tabasa insisted on accompanying him to the door. Russell rang the doorbell and waited. Behind him, Tabasa was still looking this way and that, impressed by the shrubbery and the decorations in the front yard. The door opened to reveal Gardenia's mother. The lady smiled. Her teeth were very white.

"Oh! It's... Russell, isn't it?"

Russell said hello. Tabasa stepped up at his side and stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Tabasa McNeil, Russell's guardian."

"Enora Reitman," said Gardenia's mom, gracefully shaking it. She looked a bit surprised to see him.

"Thanks for inviting Russell... It's nice of you to give these kids a chance to have so much fun."

Gardenia's mother eyed him up and down, not very discreetly in Russell's opinion, and her smile became even brighter. "Why, it isn't only for the children! The parents are invited too. Care to join us, Tabasa?"

Tabasa's eyes widened and darted down to Russell. "Oh, uh..." Russell didn't say anything. Tabasa briefly stared at him and then looked back up. "Sure. I didn't realize... I mean, I'd love to, if that's not a problem for you."

"None at all, none at all." She stepped to the side and waved them in. "Come, come, I'll show you the way to the party."

Enora guided them through the house, which was just as clean and bright as Russell remembered it, and he was surprised to see the amount of people who were gathered in the yard at the back of the house. There were a lot of colorful dresses, T-shirts and polo shirts, khaki pants, sunglasses and hats everywhere. The adults were seated on lawn chairs while the kids were already splashing around in the pool. It smelled like smoke and salt and grease. Russell recognized the appetizing smell: it often drifted through the streets in summertime.

"Everyone, Russell and Tabasa are here!" said Gardenia's mom.

"Oh, that's not... necessary..." Tabasa trailed off when gazes converged in their direction, and Russell saw him go a little red in the face. He cleared his throat and raised a hand. "...Hi. I'm Tabasa, uh... Russell's guardian."

"Oh, Russell!" came a shout, and he saw that Gardenia and Chris were waving at him. He broke away from Tabasa and went to join the others. Chris was sitting at the edge of the pool so Russell took off his shoes and sat down with him, and suddenly all the girls were bobbing in a half-circle around them. 

"Who's that? Is that your brother?" asked one of the girls, pointing to Tabasa. 

Russell didn't know what to answer, so he said: not really.

"Why aren't your parents here? Are they really in the hospital?"

"Lily," reproachfully said Gardenia, at the same time as Chris glared at the girl.

"Oh, sorry," said Lily, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Why're we talkin' about this?" asked Chris, annoyed. "It's supposed to be a party. This isn't fun."

"Well it's a pool party, and you're not swimming, so you tell me," replied Melody.

"Not feelin' like it."

"Do you even know how to swim?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Liar."

"I ain't lyin'."

"Then why aren't you swimming, then?"

"Fine, I'll show you. You asked for it!"

Chris took off his T-shirt, threw it to the side, and then he launched himself into the pool. He landed smack-dab in the middle of the girls, who all screamed in surprise when a geyser of pool water erupted around Chris.

"You splashed water in my eyes!" Melody yelled at him when he resurfaced. 

Chris shot her a snarky grin. "What are you gonna do? Cry about it?"

Melody frowned and splashed at him, and he splashed right back, and Russell leaned away while the other girls screamed again. 

"Stop!"

"Stop it, you guys!"

"He started it!" shouted Melody through the ongoing splashing, and Chris let out a diabolical laugh. The others bobbed up and down in the water as they swam away while Gardenia grabbed the ledge to pull herself closer to Russell.

"Are you coming in?" she asked him, one of her eyes scrunched up to avoid the drops of water that were hitting the side of her face.

Russell hesitated, and then admitted that he didn't know how to swim.

"Oh," said Gardenia, surprised. "Really?"

Russell nodded. The splashing died down, and he saw Chris dive beneath the surface while Melody yelled after him. They'd drifted further away during their water fight. The other two girls were talking on the other side of the pool, clinging to the ledge like Gardenia was doing.

"Well, that's fine, you can stay on that part of the pool." Gardenia gestured in the direction of the pool stairs, which were on the opposite side of the gathering of adults. "It only gets deeper if you walk out into it. Plus, you can just hang on the edge of the pool, that's what everybody does anyway."

"You don't know how to swim?" suddenly said Melody as she neared them. "Lame. Why do you even have swimming trunks if you don't know how to swim?"

Gardenia turned on her friend. "Stop it, Melody. It's not funny."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine."

"Come on, Russell, join us," insisted Gardenia. She scooped up a handful of water to playfully throw it at him, and Russell raised his arm in a half-hearted attempt to protect his face. It just splashed against his knees. She beamed at him. "The water's really nice!"

Russell stared at her, and then at the water, and finally made up his mind. He folded his legs to stand up and walked around the pool towards the stairs. He slipped one foot in the water and then the other. He could see a thermometer floating on the surface a few feet away. He couldn't read the temperature from here, but the water wasn't too cold against his skin and it felt refreshing in the late summer heat. Gardenia was swimming towards him and Melody closely followed. Russell submerged himself to his thighs and only then remembered to take off his shirt, which he folded up before throwing it to the side like Chris had done. It landed next to the bushes that lined the yard. Russell fully lowered his body in the water and pushed himself off the last pool steps. Gardenia glided up to him with a big smile.

"Nice, right?"

Russell nodded, water lapping at his chin. It did feel nice. He liked the feeling of buoyancy the pool gave his body. Even with his feet safely touching the ground, the water reached his neckline. An underwater shadow approached them and Russell had the time to make out the green trunks just before Chris' head broke the surface. His friend wiped away the drops lining his lashes before smiling at him.

"Hey, fancy meetin' you here!" 

Russell said hi back. 

Chris turned to the girls. "Do you have a ball we can throw around?"

"Lame," said Melody, but next to her Gardenia was already nodding with enthusiasm.

"Yes, I have one, I'll go get it!"

"I can go, tell me where it is," said Chris.

Gardenia pointed off to the side. "See that little shed over there? It's unlocked, there's a chest in it with the ball inside."

"Cool! Be back in a sec."

Chris started swimming towards the stairs and Russell stepped aside to let him go past, spinning in the water as he watched his friend go. Mixed feelings welled up in his chest, admiration and longing, wishing he also knew how to swim. Then he heard a gasp. 

"Oh my god", said one voice, and the other said: "Ew."

Russell turned around. 

Gardenia looked shocked. She pointed at him and asked: "What's that?"

Melody's lips were curled downwards as she propelled herself further away from him. "Is it contagious?"

Gardenia looked at her friend in alarm, as if she'd just thought of that too, and then also backed away. Russell had an inkling that he'd done something wrong, but it took him a moment to understand exactly what they were alluding to. It wasn't a part of his body that he tried to see and he never actively thought about what his back looked like, so he hadn't thought about how others would react to it. The look on the girls' faces told him everything. His back must have looked disgusting. Russell told them that it wasn't contagious. 

Gardenia stopped moving away. Melody kept edging to the side, towards the stairs. "But still... Do you have, like, a skin disease? It looks kinda gross."

"What the hell is your problem, Melody?" snapped Chris from the edge of the pool.

Melody glared at Chris and defensively said: "What? I'm just asking!"

He came back down the pool stairs with mighty splashes, suddenly looking very angry. "Don't say stuff like that!"

"It looks gross, though, I'm saying the truth! What if we get it? He shouldn't be in the pool!"

"Oh, you bitch," Chris seethed, and he lunged at her. Gardenia and Melody screamed, and Russell didn't know what to do. He saw Melody lash out towards Chris' face, and he saw Chris grab her hair and pull, and Gardenia was screaming at them to stop fighting. Russell backed away. Chris was fighting with Melody because she'd been talking about Russell's disgusting back. It was Russell's fault for forgetting. If he hadn't taken off his shirt, if he hadn't gotten in the pool...

"What's going on?" thundered a man's voice. Russell froze, and looked up.

It was one of the parents. Not a counselor.

Not a counselor.

Tabasa came running up to the pool with Gardenia's mom, Chris' mom, and another man.

"They're fighting! They're fighting, they won't stop!" shrilly shouted Gardenia.

"I'll go," said the other man as he emptied his pockets and took off his shoes, and he hurried down the pool stairs to pull the two fighters apart, splashing water everywhere. "Enough! That's enough!"

Melody was still screaming and trying to get at Chris, who elbowed the man and spat: "Get the fuck off me!"

"Christopher!" yelled his mom. 

Chris stopped fighting then, his gaze darting across the pool and landing on his mom. She had her hands on her hips and looked very angry too. A part of Russell noted that Chris and his mom looked alike when they were angry, and the other part of him pushed and pushed at him to move until he finally did. He took advantage of the fact that everyone was paying attention to Chris and Melody to get out of the pool as discreetly as possible. He was about to climb up the stairs to get to his clothes when he realized that that would mean everybody could see his back. Russell immediately lowered himself back in the water, keeping his back turned to the bushes. His shirt was lying not very far away, half-folded where it had landed on the ground, but he didn't dare get it.

Gardenia was explaining what had happened to the adults. Everyone was gathered around the pool now. They were all staring, frowning, their eyes full of reproach. Chris was hanging his head and looking away while Melody had her chin jutting out as if daring anyone to reprimand her. The two other girls were silently watching.

"I've heard enough," abruptly said Enora. "Melody and Chris, you two should go home."

"What?" exclaimed one of the adults, a man wearing a yellow polo shirt. The woman next to him looked offended, her mouth hung half-open in shock.

"Lily, Rachel and Russell can stay, but I'm not going to stand by and watch two mannerless children ruin a party that I organized for my daughter," she sternly said.

"Melody didn't do anything wrong!" exclaimed the woman.

Tabasa turned to her, frowning. "Seriously? Your kid tells my kid something like that , and you think it's no big deal?"

"I think it's rather normal that Melody reacted in this way," she snapped at him. "Children shouldn't have to see such things!"

Tabasa's face went slack and he stared at her wide-eyed. One of the adults next to him looked reproachful and started saying: "Now, Hanna, that's not something you should-"

"No, she's right!" said the man with the yellow polo shirt. "It's irresponsible!"

Tabasa's features hardened and his shoulders tensed. "...I can't believe you people. 'Children shouldn't have to see such things'...? Are you kidding me? Russell shouldn't have to deal with any of this crap, but I don't see anyone leaving him a choice!" He stepped closer to the couple. "Are you blind? He doesn't have a skin disease. And even if he did, you shouldn't be making him feel ashamed of it!" He shoved a finger in their direction. " You're the ones who should be ashamed of yourselves for teaching your daughter to behave like that!" He turned to Melody. "And you, you should know that it's wrong to bully people! Don't pretend you don't understand something like that at your age!"

Melody haughtily glared at him. She didn't look fazed by his reprimand in the slightest.

Her father stepped up to Tabasa. He was bigger, taller, and he loomed over him with a threatening expression on his red face.

"It's not your place to scold my daughter."

Tabasa took a step back, faltering a little, but he still retorted: "...Well, someone has to, if her own parents won't teach her good manners."

Something twisted in the man's demeanor and Russell recognized it, like the subtle shift in atmosphere just before an explosion. He had an impulse to move, to shout, to do something , but his body did nothing at all. 

Melody's mom caught the man's arm and said: "Let's leave, Paul."

The big man continued glaring at Tabasa for a bit, and then he turned around and barked Melody's name. She smugly looked at the man who was holding her and Chris, who slowly let the both of them go. Chris' eyes narrowed when she swam by him. Russell averted his. He continued hugging himself with his back up against the wall and stared at the water until he was sure that Melody was out of the pool. When he looked up again, he saw her mom was wrapping her in a towel. Melody had a satisfied little smile on her lips.

"We're not staying a second longer," said the woman loud enough for everyone to hear, and then she shot Russell a dirty look and added: "You shouldn't be friends with the likes of him, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" sharply said Tabasa.

Melody's mom rolled her eyes and straightened to face the others. "Please. No one here is a fool. We all know what he did to his-"

"Don't," interrupted Gardenia's mom with a raised hand. "Don't say another word, Hanna. This is a child you're talking about."

Melody's mom stayed with her mouth open for a second, and then she shrugged. "Hmph." 

Everyone watched her turn around and guide Melody away by the shoulder in heavy silence. Suddenly, Gardenia's mom broke away from the rest of the group. Her shoes crunched rapidly on the gravel, and she walked around Melody's family to block their way into the house.

"Not through here. You're not putting a foot inside my home. You and the rest of the snakes in your nest aren't welcome here anymore." She pointed them to the passage between the bushes and the wall of the house. "Take a detour." Melody's dad opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "If that wasn't clear enough to you, Paul, it means I'm asking you to leave through the yard."

"Let's go," said Melody's mom with a tug on his arm, and they went. 

Russell watched them disappear around the corner. He was cold.

Enora turned around and faced everyone, shaking her head. "I apologize for being such a terrible host. If I'd known to what extent Melody's bratty attitude went, I wouldn't have invited her nor her family here." She looked at the center of the group. "I'm sorry this happened, Tabasa."

Tabasa shot a look in Russell's direction. "I'm not the one who deserves an apology."

"I'm sorry for this mess, too. Terribly sorry," apologized Wendy, running a nervous hand through her long hair. "Please forgive my son. I'll make sure that this never happens again."

"It's alright, Wendy," said Enora. "Don't fret so much. You and him are both still welcome the next time we organize a party, but I'm afraid he's done enough for today."

"Yes, of course," said Wendy, quickly nodding, and she gestured at Chris. "Christopher, let's go. You heard Mrs. Reitman."

"Yeah, I did," moodily muttered Chris, and he waded towards the stairs. He stopped to check on Russell. "You okay, man?"

Russell nodded convulsively. It was freezing in the water. Chris looked like he wanted to say more, but his mom was waiting at the end of the pool with his towel and an intense look on her face, so he joined her instead. The quiet started to recede little by little as the adults started chatting among themselves. He heard Tabasa excuse himself from Enora's company. When he looked up, Russell saw that Tabasa was walking towards him with a towel under his arm. Tabasa didn't look angry anymore. Russell had never seen him look so angry before, the way he had been while arguing with Melody's parents.

Tabasa crouched in front of the stairs. "Come here, Russell. You're shivering, you can't stay in the pool."

Russell mindlessly shook his head and hugged himself tighter. He didn't want to get out.

"No one's looking. Come on, buddy, it's fine. Everything they said was total crap, no one actually thinks that stuff about your back except that girl and her parents."

Russell shook his head again.

"Do you need help?" asked someone. "Is he all right?"

"I've got this, thanks," said Tabasa. The person stared at Russell for a bit with an expression he couldn't figure out, and then they nodded and walked away. Tabasa shifted around and Russell looked up at the sound of rustling clothes. He saw that Tabasa was rolling up his pants. Tabasa picked the towel back up, and his feet splashed in the water as he climbed down the first step of the pool. "Come up, Russell. I'll hold the towel out so that it's hiding your back when you get out of the water. Okay?"

Russell gazed at him, teeth chattering, and decided that it was as good a solution as any. As long as his back was hidden, because that was all that mattered right now. 

"Good," said Tabasa approvingly when Russell edged closer. "That's it."

Russell stopped in the stairs, hunched in on himself so that only his head stayed out of the water. He didn't even have to ask Tabasa to climb down another step to make it easier for him to be hidden by the towel, despite Tabasa's rolled-up pants getting wet at the bottom when he did so. He didn't seem to mind. Russell quickly stood out of the water and Tabasa just as quickly wrapped the towel around him. 

"There you go," said Tabasa. "Let's get the car… I bet you want to go home."

Russell wanted to ask him if it was okay that his pants had gotten wet because of him, and if it was okay that his car would get wet because of him, and if it was okay that all of this had happened because of him, but he didn't ask anything. Tabasa started walking along the pool and Russell obediently followed in his tracks.

"Russell..."

He stopped at the sound of a girl's voice right below him. Gardenia was holding onto the edge of the pool at his feet, both hands tucked beneath her chin, her white hair flowing at her back.

Her blue eyes seemed a bit sad when she said: "I'm sorry about what Melody said."

Russell didn't say anything. He looked away and continued walking after Tabasa. Tabasa had stopped to wait for him, and when Russell came close again, Tabasa lowered a gentle, guiding hand on his towel-covered shoulder. It felt safe.

"Come on, buddy."

Chapter Text

Tabasa dropped into a crouch next to the zebra's pen, pulling his hood back just long enough to run his hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. He was tired. It wasn't that Russell was particularly difficult to look after, given that he never really asked for anything and didn't even require a lot of talking to; but taking care of a kid was hard work by default. 

School had picked back up, and this meant a lot of back and forth trips twice a day, as well as being on the phone with disgruntled teachers informing him of Russell's regular absenteeism, an issue which Tabasa had yet to resolve. Apparently this had already been a thing before the incident. It was a work in progress, with the help of Mr. Ambrose. 

There was also the additional cost and time of therapy sessions with said Mr. Ambrose, the heavier grocery shopping, and the necessity of paying near constant attention to another smaller, younger individual, with the added pressure of doing a good job of it. It was a pronounced change in Tabasa's usually very solitary habits. He understood better why people said it was tough being a single parent. Not to mention, being a zookeeper wasn't that lucrative, and Tabasa was especially pulled thin by the fees that had come with Russell's new living arrangements. 

He was both tight on money and time.

Tabasa missed hanging out with Dani and his other colleagues on Friday nights. He hadn't taken time off to go drink beer with his buddies ever since Russell had returned. They kept inviting him on their work days, but they always planned things too late in the evening and Tabasa couldn't afford a babysitter. He couldn’t in good conscience leave Russell alone with a stranger, anyway. Most importantly, he couldn't let himself afford the more frivolous expenses of fun and alcohol when he had a kid's entire future to plan for.  

The only person he managed to hang out with outside of work was Yumi, and that was because she was in some weird liminal space at work where she was somehow simultaneously kind of off-duty and working a desk job at the same time. At any rate, her work hours were pretty lax, so he managed to catch up with her over lunch sometimes. 

That was it. 

Tabasa never felt at ease making Russell wait after school was over, so he made sure to get there right on time to pick him up, even if Russell didn’t show up half of the time because he’d left school hours earlier either to walk around town with Chris or to go hide out at home on his own. Tabasa wanted to be a good example of a caring adult and he didn’t want to risk letting Russell down, so he kept coming to school to pick him up at the right hours, regardless if he thought that Russell would be there or not.

Because Tabasa’s social life had greatly dwindled, it now mostly relied on two things: hanging out with the boisterous officer he’d befriended whenever it was possible, and living vicariously through middle school drama. Russell had told him on the first day of school that Chris and him were still in the same class, and that both boys were now friends with Gardenia. Tabasa had been confused, because he'd thought it was already the case even before the pool party fiasco; but after a few minutes of discussion, it quickly turned out that neither Chris nor Russell had been particularly involved with the group of girls that had invited them there. Tabasa found himself feeling a bit guilty about the way he'd enthusiastically pushed Russell to go to that party without asking more questions about it.

Getting Russell to expand on the matter of his new friendship with Gardenia was a bit of a struggle, as getting him to expand on any matter generally went, but Tabasa eventually figured out that she wasn't part of the girl group anymore. Apparently, the events of the pool party had had repercussions in their little circle, and Melody had pulled a queen bee move with a ‘who's with me’ maneuver to bring everybody's loyalties to light. According to Gardenia, who Russell didn't say was disheartened but Tabasa guessed probably was from the context clues, Lily and Rachel had followed Melody without much hesitation. Tabasa wasn't very surprised. He'd always seen that girls possessing the pretty, rich, and mean trifecta always managed to have a good grip on their friends-and-followers at any age. What he was surprised by, however, was little rich girl Gardenia deciding to hang out with two boys who were unashamed class-skippers and renown delinquents. He hoped she would have a good influence on them, and not the other way around.

Tabasa wasn't only worried about the money: Russell's mental well-being was something he often wondered about. Even though Russell went to school and had two friends in class that he liked to hang out with, he had to face rumors there about his parents, his six-month disappearance, and even about the scars on his back. Russell never complained about it, so Tabasa remained blissfully ignorant about this problem until one of the teachers finally informed him of what was happening. When Tabasa tried to talk about it with him, Russell acted like it wasn't a big deal. He was still very closed-off. 

School hours aside, Russell stayed inside a lot. This, according to Chris’ mom, was very unlike the Russell she'd known. Tabasa couldn't help but feel that this was his fault, because he’d scolded Russell the first time he’d come home late. He could still hear Chris’ indignant voice. The boy had gotten so angry, whereas Russell had just been scared. Scared of Tabasa.

Tabasa wished he had more to go by than the teachers' warnings and Russell's short answers to gauge the boy's emotional and mental state, but Mr. Ambrose couldn't tell him details of what went on during the therapy sessions. Everything Tabasa knew, he'd either obtained from Tristan Lozac's psychiatric observations at the trial like everyone else that had been present there that day; or from Dr. Cardinal in rather wide streaks, like the fact that Russell had alexithymia, a dissociative disorder, and probable PTSD. 

She'd had to explain to him what all of it was because Tabasa didn't know the first thing about psychiatry, especially alexithymia, which was a word he’d never heard before in his life. He hadn't known it was possible for someone to not recognize emotions. But it made sense, now, why Russell reacted the way he did; like when he was surprised to find tears on his fingers after wiping his eyes, or when he flinched if Tabasa or anyone else raised their voice around him, even if it was about something completely unrelated to Russell.

Tabasa didn't know exactly which ordeals Russell had gone through, and he didn't know to what extent it still affected him today. He could guess it was a pretty far-reaching one, just from the nightmares Russell got nearly every night.

Thankfully, Mr. Ambrose did have the habit of seeing Tabasa in his office with Russell at the end of every session, and things started clearing up after a while of doing this. Mr. Ambrose usually asked to see him so he could tell him important things that Russell had agreed to share, like the fact that it was Russell who'd been tasked with buying his father beer whenever it ran out, which meant that Russell had been forced into being an involuntary enabler of the very problem that had caused him many injuries. Mr. Ambrose found it important to share things like this so that Tabasa wouldn't reproduce the same dynamic, because Russell had been conditioned into expecting the worst of anyone in a position of authority or caregiving, and that included Tabasa. The latter felt a bit piqued that Mr. Ambrose would even consider that he could do something like that to Russell, but it made sense for the therapist to exercise caution, so Tabasa graciously accepted the advice instead of pointing out that he obviously knew not to ask Russell to buy him any beer. 

Mr. Ambrose was a nice guy, soft-spoken but decisive, and visibly experienced in matters like Russell's. His explanations were always clear and to the point. One such point he'd hammered home early on for both Russell and Tabasa was that a child was always in a position of vulnerability: they couldn't help how dependent on their guardians they were. Russell had been taught that he wasn't allowed to be dependent on his own guardians, and he’d just had to deal with being in a position of constant precarity, which meant that he probably had a lot of learned helplessness going on. This explained why he was so passive, and asked for so little, and thought that punishment was inevitable no matter what he did. Tabasa understood all that now, but understanding didn't make the grief he felt for Russell any lighter. Russell himself looked indifferent. Maybe he didn't understand all of this yet.

One of the zebras snuffled nearby and pulled Tabasa out of his thoughts. The short pause was over. He sighed again and got back to his feet. He especially couldn't be late today. He had to bring Russell to therapy after school.

The waiting room was always empty when Tabasa and Russell arrived. It was small, with only three seats, and there was a painting of a flower vase which was probably as old as the building itself. The paint was a yellowing cream color and the floorboards were creaky, but at least the place was always clean. Tabasa watched Russell silently read his book. Russell didn’t like to talk before a session, so Tabasa had stopped trying to hold a conversation in the waiting room after the first few times. It wasn’t always easy to have this quiet wall rise between them, and Tabasa sometimes wondered if Russell would prefer to come here alone; but he wanted to show his support, and Russell had never asked him to leave. Then again, Russell rarely asked him for anything at all.

The door to the therapist’s office opened in the distance, and they heard footsteps come out into the hallway. A little blonde girl with bright blue eyes caught sight of them and waved her hand in greeting, as if they were all friends.

“Oh, hello! It’s you!”

“Um,” said Tabasa. No matter how often this kind of random interaction happened in Mr. Ambrose’s waiting room, he never knew how to react.

“Well, good bye!” she cheerily exclaimed, and she walked out the door with a swish of her blue dress. Next to Tabasa, Russell had raised his head, and his gaze followed the girl’s shadow through the window. It looked like someone had been waiting for her outside, older and looking quite similar. Her big sister, maybe. Tabasa noticed that Russell looked somewhat intrigued, even for him. 

Tabasa smiled and said: “Mr. Ambrose sees some peculiar people, doesn’t he?”

Russell looked back down at his book without a word. Tabasa closed his mouth, telling himself that he shouldn’t take it personally, and went back to staring at the painting.

A few minutes later, Mr. Ambrose’s thin lanky frame stood at the door of his study. He looked older than Doctor Cardinal, though it couldn’t have been by many years. His bald head leaned into that illusion. Whereas Doctor Cardinal had been all distinct edges, bright colors and unflinching directness, Mr. Ambrose’s corners were softer and worn, and he was a much more reserved person. He always wore a black vest over a loose white shirt, and thin black pants over black flat-heeled boots in a simple appearance. A welcoming smile spread across his pale face.

“Hello, Russell. Hello, Mister McNeil,” he said in his ever-even voice.

“Hello, Mr. Ambrose,” said Tabasa. Russell closed his book.

“It’s your turn,” said the therapist.

Russell handed his book to Tabasa and slid off his chair. Mr. Ambrose let him walk inside his study and closed the door on them both, after one last smile in Tabasa’s direction, and the latter was left to stew alone in his thoughts for the next hour. It mostly meant reading some random magazine from the piles on the table next to him or Russell’s book, or as had been the case more often in the last few weeks, working on his phone with a notepad in hand. He used this time to catch up on finances and obligations regarding Russell’s education. It was better for both of them if he didn’t have to waste too much of their evening time on boring administrative stuff.

The session was over sooner than he’d expected, as it always was when he was deep in thought over costs and responsibilities, and he scrambled to put away his notepad when the door opened again. A few seconds later, Mr. Ambrose leaned into the waiting room’s door frame.

“Mister McNeil.”

Tabasa hurriedly stood up and walked into the study, taking his usual seat next to Russell. Mr. Ambrose strode back to his desk and sat behind it.

“So, Russell told me about the pool incident.”

“Oh,” said Tabasa.

“While it is a shame that one of his classmates was so hurtful, we did realize that it brought good things to light as well. Russell observed that many people were on his side, including you and his friend, Chris.”

They looked over at Russell, who noticed that they were staring and slowly nodded. Mr. Ambrose looked back at Tabasa.

“However, that is the main gist of what we were able to talk about today. Talking to me has always been a bit difficult for Russell. Just as I told him earlier during our session, it’s normal to feel strange or unhappy about a change in therapists. I understand that Doctor Cardinal was a very good doctor and that it might have been disappointing to replace her with me. That said, if Russell feels like it, he’s free to pick a different therapist.”

Tabasa looked at Russell again. He was surprised, since Russell had never voiced any dislike of therapy with Mr. Ambrose. On second thought, he really probably should’ve seen something like this coming. 

Tabasa asked him: “Is that what you’d like?”

Russell shrugged.

“I feel like Russell is rather ambivalent in this regard. What I’ve told you is merely an observation, and does not have to mean anything more,” said Mr. Ambrose. “I just thought that I would let you both know that this is a possibility. It does not mean that I want you to change therapists, Russell. Think of it as an exit door of sorts, if you ever grow tired of me. Alright?”

Russell didn’t answer, so Tabasa spoke in his stead.

“We understand.”

Mr. Ambrose nodded. “Well, if you have no questions, you’re free to leave, Russell. I’ll have a word alone with Mister McNeil here, if you’re okay with it.”

Russell slipped away without a sound and closed the door behind him.

Tabasa asked: “Is something wrong with Russell?”

Mr. Ambrose smiled. “Oh, no, nothing is terribly amiss with your child that I feel the need to inform you about outside of his earshot. Don’t worry. I just wanted to check on you, Mister McNeil.”

“Me?” repeated Tabasa, confused.

“The weight of such responsibility could be heavy for anyone. I think that you look a bit tired, and so I want to let you know that I also counsel adults that are guardians to children.”

“Oh, I’m fine. You don’t need to talk to me,” said Tabasa with a nervous chuckle. He felt called out, somehow, like Mr. Ambrose had pointed out that he wasn’t doing things as well as he was trying to, even though the therapist had said nothing of the sort.

“Alright,” said Mr. Ambrose calmly. “I’m certain that you’re holding up exactly as you say. Just know that the offer stands regardless, if you ever feel a need for external support. Parenting is a very big job that can get surprisingly taxing at times, and no one can judge a parent for not always feeling up to par.” 

“Okay,” said Tabasa flatly. He hadn’t meant to sound so dry, but his voice came out like that anyway. He thought he was doing a decent job. It was what he would answer in this office, anyway.

“Okay,” said Mr. Ambrose with a nod. He stood up and held out his hand. “You and Russell have a good day, Mister McNeil.”

Tabasa got out of his seat as well and shook hands. “You too, Mister Ambrose.”

Chapter Text

Russell woke up to a delicious smell. He sat up in his bed and pulled back the bedsheets, blinking at the slim ray of morning light that shone across the mattress and down to the floor. The curtains were slightly open, as if Tabasa had looked out the window when he'd gotten up and then forgotten to pull them back into place. The sunlight spilled into the bedroom, soft and white, dappling Tabasa's potted green plant with bright spots. Russell yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, then slipped out of bed to get dressed up for the day. 

He ambled into the living room moments later, where he pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Two plates were set, with a glass next to each one and a bottle of orange juice in the middle. There was another bottle, too, smaller and filled with a golden brown liquid. The label read maple syrup .

"Good morning, Russell," cheerily said Tabasa from the kitchen. "Smells good, right?"

Russell agreed and watched his guardian shuffle around behind the counter.

"It's pancakes...! Well, I think. I may not have remembered the exact measurements," he admitted, "but muscle memory probably saved me from making any stupid mistakes. I used to make them with my mom all the time as a kid... They're great, you'll see."

Tabasa turned back around to the stove and started humming. He wasn't very good at carrying a tune, but Russell liked to listen, because it meant that Tabasa was in a good mood. He watched Tabasa slip a pancake on top of the pile in the plate next to him, and then pick it off the counter and walk out of the kitchen into the living room. He lowered the plate next to Russell.

"Here you go... Eat up, buddy."

Russell said thank you, and then he pulled the maple syrup closer to him and asked Tabasa what it was for.

"Oh, that goes with the pancakes. It's really good, trust me. Go ahead and give it a try," said Tabasa with a smile.

Russell unscrewed the bottle and tipped it closer to his nose. It smelled very sweet and it had a warm mellow quality to it, like honey or caramel. Russell decided to try. As he picked a pancake off the fluffy tower to put it in his own plate, Tabasa sat down across from him.

"By the way, Russ... So, um, we got an invitation. Does going to Gardenia's house sound good to you?"

Russell looked up, surprised, and told Tabasa that Gardenia hadn't told him anything like that at school.

"Oh, yeah, uh, Mrs. Reitman decided at the last second and asked me if you wanted to come over and play. It's not going to be a pool party like last time, don't worry..." Tabasa looked up at the ceiling, like he was trying really hard to remember something. Russell privately thought that Tabasa was acting kind of weird. "I think she was going to ask Chris, too." Tabasa looked back down at him and opened his arms in a wide, encouraging gesture. "So, what do you say?"

Russell looked down at his pancake and unscrewed the maple syrup to pour it on top, taking that time to think. Gardenia hadn't tried inviting him or Chris over at her house since the party, because last time had been such a disaster with Melody and Chris. Russell had thought that her mom wouldn’t actually invite Chris again after that fight in the pool, and that she’d only been nice to Wendy because that was what adults did, they lied and pretended to get along. Many adults didn't like Chris. They said he was loud and rude. But if Mrs. Reitman wanted to invite Chris, then that must have meant that she was okay with them being friends with Gardenia.

Russell said: okay. Then he picked up his fork, cut a piece of syrupy pancake, and lifted it to his mouth. The sugary sweetness hit Russell's tongue like a small shock. He had to chew on it a few times to decide how much he liked it, and then he closed his eyes to better savor the soft piece of pancake pressed against his palate. He chewed slowly to enjoy every second of that bite. When Russell swallowed his mouthful and opened his eyes again, he saw that Tabasa was happily watching him eat.

"Good, huh?" said Tabasa.

Russell nodded and took another bite. Yes, it was very good.

"Russell?"

He looked up.

"What day is it?" asked Tabasa.

Russell chewed on his pancake, swallowed, and said: Saturday.

Tabasa crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward a little bit, an expectant look on his face. "Just a Saturday?"

Russell thought about it, and then admitted he didn't understand what Tabasa was asking.

Tabasa stared at him with patient blue eyes, as if to give Russell more time to find the answer, and then he gently said: "Well, Russell, I think today's a special day... Do you remember the date?"

Russell slowly lowered his fork. In his mind, he went over the calendar, he recalled the date written on the classroom's blackboard on Friday, and then he realized what Tabasa was talking about. Russell had forgotten. Everyone always forgot. 

Tabasa smiled at him.

"Happy birthday, Russell."

Russell stared at his guardian. Tabasa had wished him a happy birthday, as if his birth was a good thing. Tabasa had reminded him of his date of birth, as if it was an important thing to point out. 

It felt like Russell had been hidden in murky depths and Tabasa had just pulled him up, unveiling him to the world. Breaking the surface meant Russell could breathe freely, and he wanted to breathe, he really did; but he'd always held his breath. He wasn't allowed to make waves. This wasn't supposed to happen. No one was supposed to celebrate Russell's existence. It wasn't right. 

"Wh-what- Why are you crying??" suddenly exclaimed Tabasa, his blue eyes wide with alarm.

Russell lifted up a hand and touched his cheek, feeling something wet under the tip of his fingers. He was crying.

He was crying...?

Russell was puzzled. He didn't usually cry from anything but pain, and Tabasa wasn't hurting him.

"Oh, no," Tabasa was frantically saying, and he got up to hurry around the table where he crouched in front of Russell. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to make you cry, Russell, I'm sorry... Did I hurt your feelings somehow? You can tell me..."

Russell wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and said he didn't know why he was crying. 

"...Okay," said Tabasa after a beat of silence. "That's fine, too... You're sure you're not hurt?"

Russell shrugged. He was confused. His chest ached a bit, but that was all. 

Tabasa gazed at him with an intense, serious look in his eyes. He reached out to gently squeeze Russell's arm. "You'd tell me if I said anything that upset you, right...? It's important, Russell... I need to know when there are things that you don't like to talk about."

Russell stared down at Tabasa's hand, at the pale soft sleeve of his guardian's cream turtleneck, and the way his long fingers only exerted very light pressure where they were wrapped around Russell's arm. They looked a little bonier than they’d been before, but felt comforting like always. Russell looked away and quietly muttered that he didn't think Tabasa should be happy about his birthday.

Tabasa inhaled as if to answer, but then he didn't say anything for a while. Eventually he let out a soft sigh and murmured: "Well, I am. I am happy, Russell... Nothing can change that. I'm glad that I'm there for your birthday, I'm glad I get a chance to make you happy, and I'm glad I made you pancakes."

Russell asked why.

"Because... You deserve it. That's what I think."

Even though he did so many bad things?

"...Even though, yeah. Even though, buddy. You know... second chances and all." Tabasa patted Russell's arm and straightened. "Come on, eat your pancakes. We've got a big day ahead of us."

"Surprise!!"

Russell stopped dead in his tracks, wide-eyed, his heart missing a beat. Then the shock from the loud noises subsided when he realized that Tabasa and Mrs. Reitman were clapping next to him. Russell was surrounded by smiles. There was Chris, and his mom, and Gardenia, and her dad, and they were all holding colorful little rolls that shot straight out and honked when they blew into it. Russell blinked through the confetti that had been thrown in his face.

"Happy birthday!" 

Chris' yell powered through all the others, but everyone had shouted the two words. Russell could only stare dumbly at the display of cheery faces, balloons, and gifts. His brain felt overloaded with information and he kept looking back and forth between everything. Then a hand gently touched his shoulder, and Tabasa said in his ear: "It's a party for you and Gardenia, since you have the same birthday. It was her idea... I'm not the only one who thinks you deserve a happy birthday." Russell looked up. Tabasa winked at him. "Sorry for keeping the secret from you."

Gardenia ran up to Russell and grabbed his hand. "Happy birthday to us! Isn't it great? Tabasa said you liked chocolate, so we made a chocolate cake!"

"Gardenia!" reproached Chris. "That was supposed to be a surprise too!"

"Oops," said Gardenia, but she didn't look sorry about it at all. She still had a big smile on her face. "I'm so happy you're here, Russell! Do you like it? I hope you like it, me and Chris worked really hard on the party. Oh, and our parents too, but we're the ones who got the idea. Do you like it?"

"Slow down," said Chris. He'd joined up with them and his arms were crossed, looking cool and unbothered, but Russell could tell his friend was striking the pose for Gardenia. "He just got here, he's gonna need a moment to adapt. Maybe you should go help your dad with the cake."

"Oh, right!" Gardenia let go of Russell and disappeared in the corridor.

Chris turned to face Russell, a grin on his face. "I like her, but she's kinda hyper sometimes, even for me. Don't tell her I said that. How're you holdin' up, man?"

Russell's gaze roamed around the room once more, and then he quietly said that he hadn't expected any of this. It was a lot.

"That's the whole point, Russ."

Russell slowly nodded and repeated it was a lot.

Chris chuckled. "Hopefully you'll get used to it. Anyway, uh... Yeah. We never did celebrate your birthday before, huh. It's cool we're doin' it now. Right?"

Russell asked if he really thought so. Chris shot him a look. One of those looks.

"Yeah, man, I really think so. Y'know I wouldn't say it otherwise. C'mon, drop that face. It's a party! We're gonna have fun, promise." Chris nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, jus' between us, you'd tell me if me and my mom got you the best gift, right? Not cause I'm competing with Gardenia or anything. Just out of curiosity."

Russell gazed at him. This whole thing felt like a dream. His birthdays never went like this. His birthdays never went any way at all. How did so many people know about it? How were so many people part of this?

Chris leaned in closer, brown eyes searching. "Hey, Russ? You with me?"

Russell repeated, for the third time: it's a lot.

"...Yeah." Chris smiled, but it looked a bit strange. A bit sad. "I bet it is. Come on, I was supposed to distract you so that you wouldn't see the cake, so I guess that's what I'll do even though Gardenia kinda fudged that one. Cool?"

...Cool, said Russell, and he followed after his best friend.

The rest of the experience was surreal, so much so that Russell felt like he'd just woken up from a dream as he stood in front of the car with Tabasa when it was over. It was so strange. He could still hear the happy birthday song, and feel the warm flickering lights against his face just before Gardenia and him had blown out the candles nestled atop a two-story beautiful chocolate cake covered in dark red icing. But that couldn't have been a dream, because Tabasa's arms were loaded with the four big books Russell had gotten from the Reitman family, and Russell himself was holding in his hands the small video game console that Chris, Wendy and Tabasa had gifted him together.

"Did you have fun?" asked Tabasa as he juggled with the books and his car keys to open the vehicle.

Russell quietly nodded, and when he realized that Tabasa couldn’t see him, said yes out loud.

Tabasa opened the back door on the side of his minivan and lowered the pile of books with a grunt. "Oof. Those things sure are heavy." He shot a smile in Russell's direction, who was already climbing in the opposite seat because he didn't want to leave the books alone at the back where they would topple over and fall to the floor. "Someone's going to be busy in the next days, huh?"

Russell nodded. He was looking forward to reading new stories and playing Chris' game. Tabasa didn't get to the driver's seat right away, instead choosing to linger next to the books. 

"Say, Russell... There's something we should talk about. It's about your future."

Russell hugged the video game console closer to him without thinking, cold dread pooling in his belly. Was this the moment when Tabasa said he'd had enough? That he couldn't take care of Russell forever, that Russell would have to find someone else?

"You're free from your old home, and I think that you feel good about living with me for three more years until you're eighteen. I'd be okay with that. But, I guess what I'm asking is... are you sure that's what you want? And what about your parents?"

Russell quickly said that he didn't want to leave Tabasa's house. Tabasa lifted his hands to calm him down.

"I know, buddy, I know. Not kicking you out. I meant... Gah, I'm not good at this. Um... Look, I just want to know if you've been thinking about your parents. There was that incident with your mom... and your dad's still not awake. I guess I just... want to know where you're at with all of this. If you want to keep away from them, or if you want to try and see them at some point." Tabasa looked grim. "I'd help you with that, if you needed it. I don't like them, and I really don't believe that they should be allowed your custody, but this kind of thing's your choice. I won't make the decision for you."

Russell looked away. It was silent in the car. Then he said that he didn't know. He was unsure. He didn't really want to see them, but he was their son, and they'd often told him that he owed them for many things. Russell looked up at Tabasa and said that he didn't want to go alone, if he had to go.

"No, hold on," quickly said Tabasa, "you don't have to go. I was just saying that it was a possibility, because, well, CPS often try to get a kid and his parents to reconcile... but if you don't want it, then that's it. End of story. And anyway, you wouldn't go alone... I'm your guardian now, I get to accompany you wherever you need me. All right?"

All right, said Russell, and he relaxed.

Tabasa nodded approvingly. "Good. So, buddy, anywhere else you want to go today? It's not that late. If there's something you want to do..."

Russell looked down at the game console in his lap. Just like Dr. Cardinal and Mr. Ambrose, Tabasa knew about all his crimes. He'd said he'd accompany him everywhere. There was something Russell had been thinking about since his conversation with Yumi. Russell looked back up and said that he wanted to go to the church.

The Morning Glory Church's walls were just as bright and white as always, softened by the trails of black flowers nestled against them. Russell entered the building with Tabasa in tow and went to stand in a corner to watch the people inside. There weren't many. Russell breathed in the cool air, the scent of old wood and faint traces of mildew. The colored lights cast on the sleek marble floor by the wide tinted windows made him squint. He could hear Dogma's voice ringing low but firm somewhere on the other end of the church. Russell’s heart was beating fast in his chest.

Russell made up his mind and began advancing along the pews, and he heard Tabasa follow. His guardian hadn't said a word since the car, his last piece of advice being an encouraging one when Russell had explained to him what he wanted to do. Tabasa had said he'd be quiet, because this was something Russell needed to do for himself, but that he'd come along just in case because it was his role to support him. Russell walked up to Dogma where he was standing next to the altar. The priest noticed him approaching and said: "Hello, Russell."

Russell stopped in his tracks. He was surprised that he remembered his name.

"Of course," said Dogma, as if that much should've been evident. "I remember all of those who seek refuge in our church." 

Russell said that that had been a while ago.

“Yes, but I remember that conversation very well. You looked quite ill. You seem in much better health today, and for that, I am thankful,” said Dogma with a smile.

Russell nodded and didn’t say anything else. It looked like the priest didn’t know about what had happened in his house, nor about where Russell had been afterwards during all the months that had followed. He wanted to keep it that way.

Dogma picked up his bible from the altar and held it against his chest. "What brings you here, then, Russell? You've sought me out directly so I suppose that you must wish to talk. Are you perhaps in need of guidance?"

Russell looked around the church. He glanced at Tabasa, and then faced Dogma again. He told him that he'd come to ask for forgiveness.

Dogma nodded kindly. "Yes, I understand. Shall we enter the confessional?"

Russell added that he'd come to ask for forgiveness from all of them. 

At that, Dogma looked a bit confused. He shot a seeking look in Tabasa's direction, who shrugged lightly and helplessly. "I'm only here to be moral support, Father. This is all Russell’s idea."

Dogma lowered his gaze back down to Russell. He lightly adjusted his grip on his bible and cleared his throat. "Will this be a sensitive conversation, Russell?"

Russell caught his glance towards the two people sitting in the pews and nodded.

"Well, then... I shall fetch my sister and mother." Dogma pointed them to a sort of alcove at the end of the church. "Please, go wait for us in that corner over there." 

Russell went without another word, and he heard Tabasa say a quick thank you before he followed. They settled in their spot and were quiet for a few moments. Tabasa turned to look at him.

"You okay, buddy...?"

Russell said yes.

"Not too anxious?"

Russell didn't really know how he felt. There was something heavy buzzing in his chest. He said no.

"...Okay."

Dogma showed up with Cody at his side. Deirdra was trailing behind her two children in the light blue dress she often wore. The dress was large and shapeless and it reached down below her knees. It was nothing like the clothes Russell's mom wore. The group gathered on the other side of the alcove. Deirdra arbored a calm and genial expression. Cody's eyes were cautiously curious. Dogma had a serious, patient air.

"What was it that you wanted to ask forgiveness for, Russell?"

Without hesitation, Russell told them that he’d tried to burn their church down that night.

Their maroon eyes all widened at the same time. 

Cody exclaimed: "What? That was you? "

Russell said that he knew he'd done a bad thing, and that he was sorry, and that a police officer he knew had told him that asking for forgiveness was the right thing to do.

Dogma and his mother looked troubled, but Cody was angry. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips twisted in spite. "How could you? You could have killed us! What's wrong with you?"

"Cody," intervened Dogma, at the same time as Tabasa laid a protective hand on Russell's shoulder. "That's quite enough."

Cody whirled around and jerked her finger in Russell's direction. "But you heard him, it was him! He tried to burn us alive!"

"He is repentant," argued Dogma. He wrapped his hand around his cross pendant. "God loves all of her children. She is forgiving, and so shall I be."

"That's stupid!" spat Cody.

Deirdra stepped between her children with a raised hand. "Cody, your brother is right." Cody looked like she wanted to argue more, but her mother reached out to cup the side of her face. "I understand that you are angry because you were scared by what happened that night, but you cannot hold such bitterness in your heart. You have to find within yourself the strength to accept his apology, at least, even if you aren't obligated nor willing to forgive him. We were not hurt. Russell came here in an effort to make things right. We know who was responsible, now, and that he is repentant. It brings us some peace of mind over the incident, and in turn, you should at least let Russell know that you have heard him."

Cody tore her face out of her mother's hand, and for an instant she stood there tense and unhappy. Then she lifted her gaze away from the ground to look at Russell.

"Fine," she reluctantly said. "I accept your apology. But I don't forgive you."

Russell understood. He nodded, and looked at Deirdra next. The woman offered him a sad little smile. 

"I forgive you, Russell. I hope that you will find a way to soothe that troubled soul of yours."

"We're working on it," said Tabasa with a pat on Russell's shoulder. "He's getting better."

Cody spun around with a loud thud of her heel against the ground and swiftly stomped away. Dogma watched her go with a reproving look in his eye, but there was something soft there as well, as if he would have liked to follow her. But he stayed. 

Deirdra's smile became brighter upon hearing Tabasa's words, and she said: "I'm sure he is, given that he found the courage to do this today."

"Yeah," said Tabasa. He looked down at Russell, waiting for him to speak in turn.

Russell said that he wanted to go now.

"Sure, buddy. Let's go. Goodbye, it was nice meeting you all, despite the... context and all. Thanks for listening to us."

"Always," said Dogma.

Russell asked if he could still come.

"Yes," said Deirdra. "God is good, and She turns no one away from the haven of her church."

They left and walked out into the sun, down the gentle slope of the hill, all the way to Tabasa's car. They climbed inside.

Tabasa settled in the driver's seat and asked: "Anything else you want to do today, Russell?"

Russell was tired, but there was one more thing that came to mind, even though he knew that they wouldn't find the exact same flowers he'd seen so many times before. He asked if they could buy some red lilies.

"Sure," said Tabasa. "Why are we doing this?"

Russell said it was for a doctor he used to know.

Chapter Text

The end of October was nigh, and with it, the celebrations of Halloween. Russell had spent the last weeks feeling on edge, though he’d kept most of it for himself.

Russell had never taken issue with Halloween and its festivities before. He liked the smell of candles in pumpkins, he liked the decorations, he liked the spooky bats and skeleton paper cutouts in the school halls, he liked the fake cobwebs in the bushes that looked more like cotton candy than actual webbing. The colors pleased him. Sometimes it felt nice to make something with his hands when he was allowed to participate in decorating the school. 

He never went trick or treating, of course, as Chris and him had better things to do than hanging out with smaller kids hoping to get pieces of sugar for free. With so many people out and about, all the noise and shadows and general commotion in the streets, it was easier not to be caught making deals of “candy” and cash. Halloween was a good night to make money, and they even had a game to play while they waited for buyers: how many costumes they could recognize before the night was over. Chris had seldom lost.

Because Russell had never felt any particularly negative way towards Halloween, he was taken aback by how taxing the weeks preceding it felt for him. He watched a lot of TV, and scary ads were infinite. They hadn’t been a problem in all his life, except maybe when he’d been a little kid; but now, every sudden image or sound that jumped at him from the screen made his heart start with a sickening, painful lurch, and sent it running like a jackrabbit for minutes on end. Tabasa had caught on in the second week of October, when they’d been watching TV together, and he’d seen Russell’s reaction to the live ads. 

They’d picked up the habit of cutting off TV during ad breaks– both sound and image.

But there were other things which Tabasa didn’t know about, and which Russell hadn’t known about either before they started happening to him; for example, going grocery shopping and being confronted with bloody props and fake brains everywhere. It was strange, because the fake brains looked nothing like his dad’s, but Russell thought about it anyway. It made him sink in a melancholic state when he saw that kind of thing, quiet and closed-off, one which Tabasa knew well and never forced him out of. Russell never told him that these fake brains were one of his supposed triggers. He didn’t want to. It felt stupid.

An incident he’d only faced once so far was the time he’d walked past an aisle of plastic weapons on his way back to Tabasa with a carton of milk in his hand. An old man had accidentally made a few of them fall to the ground because his cane had bumped into the protruding basket of props. Russell had gone to help him pick them up and put everything back in its place, but when he’d found himself standing above the kneeling old man with a plastic knife in his hand, something in his brain had gotten stuck. The thought that he would stab the old man had overwhelmed him. Russell had had to drop it, as if the plastic burned, and he’d left the old man to clean the mess by himself. When Russell had found Tabasa, he’d realized that he’d forgotten the milk, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back and get it. Something must have shown on his face when he walked up to the cart, because Tabasa put an end to their shopping trip right then and there. They’d only gotten milk two days later.

Stopping the ads wasn’t enough to mitigate the presence of scary things on screens. It wasn’t only at home; there were screens everywhere. Sometimes the screen would display a scary movie, either from switching channels, or someone showing their phone, or TVs displayed in storefronts. It caught Russell’s attention without fail, and he’d watch the scene. It wasn’t always too bad in the moment; it was what his mind played out later that troubled him without fail. But screens would always be everywhere, and so would scary movies during Halloween, so Russell just dealt with it. 

He lived with the frightening fictional scenarios that his mind transposed to real life. He lived with the adrenaline-fueled flutter of his heart every time he heard the neighbor’s footsteps on the landing, the sickening lurch of his gut when he visualized glistening blood on his hands, the cold rush in his head when he imagined getting killed in the dark. He couldn’t stop picturing his own body, dead or alive, buried beneath the plastic tombstones decorating the trimmed lawns. 

His dad’s shadow followed him when he was alone. Not dead, but not quite alive either. It had only taken one glass bottle… one jagged, broken glass bottle.

Gardenia wanted to celebrate Halloween, and that meant going trick-or-treating with her friends. After a bout of indecision, Chris made the choice of making her happy over making himself money. Russell went with the flow. They got their costumes at the store with Gardenia’s mom a few days before the date. Tabasa was elated when Russell came back home and told him that the idea Gardenia and her mom had come up with for their disguised trio was an Alice in Wonderland theme. It even made Tabasa laugh to imagine Chris in a cat outfit. 

The boy’s costumes weren’t exactly a costume, because it wasn’t easy to find one for cheap, but Chris had bought cat ears and makeup, and Gardenia had decided that she’d lend Russell the rabbit poncho she just so happened to have, so all he needed to buy was a fake clock and a red bowtie. It was all very low-effort, and Gardenia was the only one who actually had the means to look like Alice in Wonderland, but she’d insisted several times that this didn’t matter as long as they had a theme. 

When the day came to don his White Rabbit costume, Russell had to sit through several minutes of Tabasa taking pictures of him, and then pictures of him and his friends when they joined up in front of the building’s stairs. Tabasa displayed the same mirth and fervor as he had on the day he’d taken pictures of Russell and Chris with Myrtle the turtle at the aquarium. Maybe he just really liked costumes. Russell didn’t ask. 

They ended up walking in the street with Chris’ mom, Gardenia’s mom, and Tabasa in tow, because all of their respective guardians insisted on taking part in the festivities with them. Fortunately, the adults stayed a fair distance behind and didn’t try to meddle with their conversation, so it wasn’t as embarrassing as Chris and Gardenia had feared it would be. The deal was that the three of them just had to promise to stick together so that they’d be easy to find. It was pretty much the same as if they’d gone on their own.

When they reached the busier streets, the place was overrun with people of all ages in all sorts of costumes. It hit Russell after only a few minutes of walking that things were very loud all around him: there were little kids yelling and screaming, and running footsteps everywhere, and loud pre-recorded cackling and deep sound effects that made the air vibrate. It was obvious that the people in the crowd were having fun, but something about their laughing and screeching grated on Russell’s nerves. All the bright eyes, happy faces, gesticulating hands, enthused voices, loud sudden noises, all of it stuck into him like sharp barbs. 

The kids looked so happy, even the adults. It was always like that on holidays and special occasions, all the time, every year. It was always like that, and Russell had grown used to not participating, to walking along the walls and ignoring it all on the way home. He couldn’t feel the same way that these people felt. The lights and sounds elicited nothing in him but dim annoyance. The sight of all these people celebrating something that he couldn’t understand was a nuisance, and Russell realized with a heaviness in his chest that he had not changed enough for this year’s festivities to feel any different to him.

“Happy Halloween!” exclaimed a loud voice in front of him.

He looked up at the man standing at the gate of a decorated lawn. Chris and Gardenia had stepped up, arms stretched out with their plastic pumpkin basket hanging from their hands, and the man was dropping a few pieces of candy inside each one. Chris and Gardenia said thanks, and Russell was going to follow them as they left, but the man wasn’t done.

“Hey, kid! You forgot your candy!”

Russell felt the man’s hand grab his own and pull it forward, and three bars of candy crinkled against his palm as the man pressed them into his hand.

“There you go. Have fun, young man!”

The man let go of him and Russell turned around without a word, following after Gardenia and Chris, who were already a few steps ahead.

Then, Russell stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked down at his hand. The candy glinted in the light of the glowing street lamps, sparkly foil against sweaty skin. Russell’s hands felt clammy. A kid ran past him, screaming, another chasing after him. Their laughter faded in the hubbub of the crowd. Someone bumped their elbow into Russell’s shoulder, but by the time he looked up, the person was already gone. Russell stared at the incessant milling of people all around him. His heart was beating fast. He didn’t know why his hands felt so clammy.

The feeling of the man’s hand around his own throbbed through his skin when he thought about it again, and Russell compulsively threw the candy bars on the ground. They didn’t make a sound when they landed on the pavement littered in candy wrappers, overrun by the ambient noise. A witch screamed a sudden, cackling laugh nearby. Russell backed away from the candy and the crowd, and felt the cold, hard wood of a picket fence digging between his shoulder blades. He didn’t like that he’d been grabbed like that. He remembered the stranger with the candy, a long time ago, and Russell raised his head to frantically look around. It felt like the stranger could be anywhere in the crowd. The stranger, and the beasts, and the men, there was no way to know for certain that they hadn’t followed him.

Russell didn’t like that he’d been grabbed like that. He didn’t like the noise, loud in his ears, didn’t like to see all the grinning faces in the crowd, the shrill laughter of children that he couldn’t understand. A pressure built inside of him, too warm and too big where it pushed against his fast heart. Heat, like anger, but not quite. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to run. He wanted to destroy something.

Why was it always him? Why was it always him that people touched and grabbed? Why was it always him who didn’t understand things? Why was it always him that never got to laugh and scream in the streets? Why was it always, always, him?

Russell pressed a hand to his beating chest and grabbed the fence with the other. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and he blinked through the odd feeling in his head. He was sweating. He didn’t know why he was sweating, he wasn’t sick, he hadn’t run. He felt overwhelmed. His hand gripped the wood, squeezing tightly, wanting to break and splinter it into pieces, but nothing happened except rough pain tracing the lines of the wooden plank into his fingers.

Russell’s breath came out of his mouth all wrong, like a gasp, shaky and unstable. This was similar to the way he breathed when he was panicking, and he remembered what Doctor Cardinal had taught him, and he tried to keep track of all five of his senses. It was a difficult thing to do when everything felt like it was slipping away. Russell looked around wildly, feeling like he was losing his grip on his surroundings. Everything was so blurry, and there were only shadows, blank circles where faces were supposed to be, and the cackling and the laughing rang in his ears so loudly that it made his face twist.

“Russell!”

Russell flinched when he felt hands on him, and he slapped them away, a sickening tremor lurching through his body. He couldn’t stand it. 

“Ow!”

“What the hell, Russell?”

Russell blinked, shaking, breathing hard. He could make out familiar shapes in front of him, white hair, cat ears. Gardenia and Chris. Russell blinked again and saw that Gardenia was staring at him with big blue eyes, holding her hands close to her chest, looking shocked. Chris was frowning at him. Russell looked down at his trembling hands when he realized who it was that he’d hit just now. A thin sound trickled out of his throat, and he managed to shape it into a stuttering word, simple enough to be understood. Sorry. Sorry, sorry.

“Russell?” Chris came closer. “Hey, Russ? You okay man?”

Russell took a quick step away from them, his cloak catching on the fence, stopping him in his tracks. He couldn’t stop shaking. He shook his head, clenching his hands into cold fists. No, no. No, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay. All of this, and now he’d hurt Gardenia, like he’d hurt everyone else. He couldn’t stay here. What if he hurt others? What if others hurt him? He felt so unsafe. There was nowhere to run. People were everywhere, everywhere, and he couldn’t see a way out. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t hold onto a single thought in his head, and his eyes were cold and wet, and he felt like he was going to implode on himself. He reached for the fence again and clung onto it with all his might.

“Russell.” Chris didn’t follow him, but he kept his hands outstretched. “Did something happen?”

“I’m calling my mom,” said Gardenia behind him. “I think she should come get us.”

“Yeah,” said Chris, without turning his head away from Russell. 

Russell shakily stood there, hanging onto the fence like it was the only thing holding him up. It was hard to breathe. He could hear voices, unforgiving, scolding him for being such a bad person. The hateful touch lingered on his skin. His face was wet.

“Russell, what’s wrong with you?”

He couldn’t answer. He could hear the panic in Chris’ voice, a heavy, straining thing that didn’t belong there, but he couldn’t answer, couldn’t say that nothing was wrong. He was too scared to answer. He was too scared. 

“Russell, come on, man! Answer me!”

“Chris!”

“What?”

“Stop yelling at him, it’s not going to help!”

“Well what do we do? What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Gardenia, her voice wavering. “Mom says we have to stay calm, she’s coming with everyone.”

“Shit,” cursed Chris. 

He took a step towards Russell, who squeezed his eyes shut. When Chris spoke again, it sounded like he wasn’t coming any closer. His voice was tense. He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded very scared, just like Russell.

“Russ, please, talk to me. I’m really worried here. Look at me, at least.”

Russell didn’t do either of those things. Chris stopped talking to him, and he could only hear Gardenia’s voice from afar. Russell turned around and pressed his forehead against the picket fence, squeezing the wood with both hands. It helped chase away the stranger’s touch. He tried to breathe through all his dread, but he was choking, and his head was filled with buzzing black dots. His legs shook, though he stayed upright. He had to calm down. The voices were loud, so he mumbled to himself the special sentence Doctor Cardinal had told him to use. It wasn’t real, and no one was trying to hurt him. It wasn’t real, and no one was trying to hurt him. It wasn’t real. 

The only people around him who mattered were Chris and Gardenia, and they were his friends. 

By the time he heard the adults calling their names, Russell had managed to calm down a bit despite his choppy breathing and profuse sweating. He was acutely aware of Chris’ and Gardenia’s presence at his side, and something stopped him from looking at them. They’d seen him like this, and it had scared them. He couldn’t look them in the eye. 

He heard the adults reach them like a whirlwind of voices, Chris and Gardenia desperately trying to explain what had happened, and then felt Tabasa kneeling next to him. Russell didn’t want to listen to his coaxing words or see their worried faces. Emptiness slowly opened like a void inside of him. 

When he finally turned away from the fence, he didn’t speak or look at anyone. 

Tabasa said something like, “it’s okay, you’re safe,” but Russell kept his gaze down and his arms wrapped around his chest. 

Someone tried to touch him, and he twisted away from that hand. No one tried to touch him again.

“Let’s leave,” said one of the adults.

They left.

Russell didn’t realize that they were all going back to Tabasa’s house until the whole group was standing outside the door. Tabasa unlocked the door and let them all inside. There was a small moment of hesitation when everyone waited for Russell to be the first to step through the door, but when he didn’t move, they went ahead instead. Tabasa then ushered him inside without touching him, telling him: “You’re the last one, go on.”

Russell stepped in the small space beyond the door and waited for everyone to have taken off their coats and shoes, then to have gone deeper inside Tabasa’s apartment, before he started to do the same with Tabasa at his side. He didn’t understand why everyone had come here with them, and he didn’t try to. It wasn’t dead silence like it had been when they’d all walked back to the cars. Gardenia and Chris’ moms were talking peacefully about a decoration they’d seen, sitting on the couch, while his friends had taken to the floor and were spilling the contents of their baskets out on the low table.

Tabasa walked ahead, saw that Russell wasn’t following, and stopped to look at him.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

Russell stared at the group, then nodded. Tabasa went to join the others, and Russell followed him. He sat down next to Chris. Chris glanced at him, but when Russell didn’t say anything, neither did he. Gardenia handed him a chocolate bar.

“Do you like this?”

Russell took it and nodded without even looking at what kind it was. He remembered Tabasa’s chocolate bars from the zoo, and that was enough for him to be certain that he would like this too. He sat there, unwrapping the candy bar only when he saw that the others were doing the same and no one was telling them to stop. Gardenia asked Tabasa if they could watch the TV, and Tabasa agreed. They found a channel where there was an animated movie going on, and Russell watched it with his friends while the adults chatted quietly in the background.

At some point, the emptiness inside of Russell began to slowly recede. Maybe it was the sweetness of the chocolate on his tongue, or the music from the show, or the proximity of Chris’ elbow touching his arm; something made him be more there , and now Russell could feel his heart still beating fast in his chest and a buzzing under his skin that made him tense and uncomfortable. He’d started sweating again. He dropped his half-eaten candy bar in his lap and rubbed his wrist when he remembered the touch from earlier. It was still there, lingering; and he didn’t know how to get rid of something he couldn’t grab. The discomfort pushed at the lining of his guts. The bad feeling grew, and grew, until it became so unbearable that he couldn’t stay seated on the floor next to everyone else. 

Russell shot upright, and Chris let out a surprised sound. 

Something was wrong. Russell ran to the bathroom and threw himself down next to the tub, his stomach flipping as he gagged over the smooth white ceramic edge. A brown puddle of bile and undigested chocolate pieces splattered at the bottom of the tub, quickly going blurry from the tears that gathered in Russell’s eyes. He panted quickly, feeling horribly nauseous, and tensed up again when a second wave hit him. His retching echoed in the empty bathroom, soon mixed with the sound of the door creaking open and then hurried footsteps coming closer.

“Russell?”

Russell slumped against the tub, panting and sweating. He blinked, and a few tears ran down his face. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He hadn’t been ill, he wasn’t supposed to be throwing up. A wave of cool air brushed against the side of his face when Tabasa crouched at his side.

“Russell, are you okay?”

Russell turned a tear-filled gaze towards Tabasa and slowly shook his head. No, he wasn’t okay. He didn’t know why he was like this. Tabasa’s face shifted into something sad.

“Oh, buddy… Hold on.”

Tabasa leaned to the side and grabbed a glove from the shelves under the sink, then stood up and ran some water. He returned to Russell holding out the wet glove.

“Here, clean yourself up.”

Russell took the glove with shaking fingers and swiped it across his mouth.

“Did you catch a bug?” asked Tabasa, as he got up again to turn on the shower and wash away the vomit.

Russell shook his head again. Even though he felt like something was wrong, he knew that it wasn’t illness. Illness didn’t feel like this. 

“What is it, then? What are you feeling?”

Russell dropped his gaze to the ground. Tabasa shut off the water and returned the shower head to its holder, then sat down in front of him. Russell shrugged, and muttered that he didn’t know how to explain it. He felt the same as he had in the crowd, when he’d been next to the picket fence. 

“Chris and Gardenia told us you were scared,” quietly said Tabasa. “Does this feel like that?”

Russell paused to consider it, and said: a little bit. Then he added that he’d panicked back there, like Doctor Cardinal had said would happen to him, and that he’d tried to calm down by using all the methods she’d taught him. He’d even managed it, for a bit. The problem was that maybe he’d panicked just now, too, and he didn’t know how to explain why it had happened again in Tabasa’s home. There was nothing upsetting here.

“I don’t know either…” said Tabasa, sounding troubled. “Maybe we could talk about it to Mister Ambrose next week. What do you think?”

Russell nodded, and wiped his mouth again with the other side of the glove.

“Have you calmed down? Do you think we can go back with the others?”

Russell grabbed Tabasa’s sleeve and quickly shook his head. No, not yet. Tabasa looked down. Russell quickly pulled his hand back when he realized that he was gripping Tabasa much like the stranger had gripped Russell. Tabasa looked back at his face. He didn’t look upset. 

“I’m staying.”

Russell nodded in relief.

“Do you feel safer here?” asked Tabasa.

Russell nodded. What he didn’t say out loud was that he only felt safer now because Tabasa was close to him.

“Okay,” said Tabasa. “Let’s sit here for a bit then.”

Chapter Text

Russell stared at the top of the old chimney in Mister Ambrose’s office. There were usually four drawings there. One of them was gone. It had been a drawing of an animal, something that looked like a horse and a sun, but it had too many legs. Russell remembered the four drawings well because it reminded him of the drawings he’d seen from the kids in the hospital, when he’d been younger and a patient there too. But the fourth drawing was gone, and that made him feel tense.

“Russell? Did you hear me?”

Russell glanced at Mister Ambrose.

“I was talking about Halloween,” said Mister Ambrose patiently. “I asked if you wanted to tell me how it went.”

Russell looked back at the empty space above the chimney. Mister Ambrose waited, and after a while of silence, he asked: “Is something the matter?”

Russell told him what was missing. Mister Ambrose turned around and looked at the chimney too. Russell said he should put it back. Mister Ambrose looked at him.

“The drawing? I only took it down. It’s safe in my drawers.”

Put it back, insisted Russell, feeling the tension build inside of him. He clenched and unclenched his hands, unable to tear his attention away from the empty space. He wanted the drawing back in its place. He didn’t like that it wasn’t there.

“Alright,” said Mister Ambrose, and he pulled open one of the drawers at his desk. He found the drawing almost right away, and got up to tack it on the wall above the chimney. The drawing was back in its usual place. Russell felt himself relax. Mister Ambrose sat back down in his chair.

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

Russell nodded. 

“Why were you upset?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know. He didn’t like seeing the empty space. The drawing had always been there.

“Hm.” Mister Ambrose considered this. “But it hasn’t always been there, Russell. I chose to put it up a few months ago. There were other drawings in its place before it.”

Russell shrugged again. He didn’t say anything.

“Maybe you didn’t like the change?”

Maybe.

Mister Ambrose hummed again, and then said: “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you that I was going to change the room. I won’t do it again without telling you first. Okay?”

Okay, said Russell.

“So, about Halloween. You were excited to go with your friends the last time we talked. How did it go?”

Russell thought back to his behavior, and what Tabasa had said. He explained to Mister Ambrose the strange thing that had happened to him outside in the street, and then inside, even when he’d been at home. He told him that Tabasa hadn’t known what it was either. They were hoping that Mister Ambrose would know. Once Russell was done explaining, Mister Ambrose was quiet for a little bit, his red gaze resting on the notes scrawled on his lavender-colored paper while he pondered.

“Well,” he said, looking back up at Russell, “you say the man who held you back and gave you your candy reminded you of that stranger from years ago, correct? The one you called the creepy stranger.”

Russell nodded. He still felt uneasy when he remembered the stranger, like something squirming at the back of his brain.

“This creepy stranger you’ve told me about. Would I be right if I said that he scared you badly?”

Russell paused, and slowly nodded. Yes, he’d been scared. The crawling of his skin, the fast beating of his heart, the shakiness of his breathing, all of these had been symptoms of fear back then. He would’ve recognized them on his own even if Chris hadn’t pointed it out.

“What were you scared of?”

Russell looked away. He didn’t want to think about it, so he said nothing. Mister Ambrose waited until it was clear that Russell refused to answer. He nodded.

“Alright. Well, Russell, to answer your question– and Tabasa’s– I think that the man who gave you your candy was a trigger to that bad memory with the stranger. It seems to me that you simply panicked. That is why you threw up.”

Russell frowned. That didn’t sound right. He argued that he’d calmed down by the time they’d gone back home, and he’d thrown up much later. 

“From what you’ve described to me, it sounds more like you momentarily dissociated rather than having truly calmed down,” Mister Ambrose pointed out. “I think this receded once you were safe at home again, and that’s when the panic came back.”

Russell shook his head. It didn’t make sense. Panic didn’t make people throw up.

“It can,” said Mister Ambrose. “It happens sometimes, to some. But you and Tabasa don’t need to worry just because it happened this once. It doesn’t have to become a recurring incident.”

Russell said nothing.

“And how have you been feeling since that day?”

Russell looked at the drawing again. He hadn’t been feeling much of anything. Everything was just… dull. And tiring.

“So, rather low,” deduced Mister Ambrose.

Russell supposed that was the truth.

"You told me you liked making decorations for your school. Do you like to draw, then?"

Mister Ambrose didn't wait for Russell's answer before he opened another drawer and briefly rummaged through it, then pulled out some markers and spread them on the table, close to Russell. He also picked a plain purple page out of his folder and flattened it on the surface in front of Russell. 

"There's a little exercise I'd like you to do today. I'd like you to draw something."

Russell lifted a guarded look to the therapist's face, who added:

"It can be anything at all. Something you like, something you dislike, something you saw. It doesn't matter. You just have to try to draw something, and you can stop drawing whenever you want."

Russell stared at the paper and the markers, thinking about it. He reached out to the desk and pulled everything closer to him, uncapped the red marker, and placed the tip against the paper. He didn't really know why Mister Ambrose was asking him to do this. Maybe it didn't matter. He glanced up at the drawings on the chimney, and thought that those drawings were probably from other children who came here for therapy. Maybe one of them was from the little blonde girl that he and Tabasa had seen in the waiting room the other day. Mister Ambrose noticed his staring, glanced at the drawings too, then looked back at Russell with a smile.

"Oh, if you're thinking that your drawing might end up on the chimney, it won't. These weren't made by patients during their therapy session. It wouldn't be very fair of me otherwise, would it?"

Russell looked at him, then looked down at his piece of paper without answering. He pondered for a while, and then decided that he'd draw an animal. Animals were something he liked. Tabasa liked them too. Russell began to draw a head. It was quiet as he scribbled on the piece of paper while Mister Ambrose watched.

"Russell, may I ask a question?"

Russell nodded without looking up.

"Is that a rabbit?"

He nodded again.

"Is it a rabbit you knew?"

Not really. It was one of the rabbits at the zoo. Tabasa took care of all of them. 

"I see."

It was quiet again while Mister Ambrose wrote something in his notes. Russell traced the rabbit's eye, and added the whiskers. 

"I'd like to ask you another question."

Russell bolded the lines of the rabbit's ears and added some fluff at their base, remembering that Poppy had had tufts of hair. That hadn’t been the case for Snowball, but Russell had liked to pet Poppy's ears a lot and he remembered those tufts very well. Snowball would've looked good with them. Russell nodded while he did this, because Mister Ambrose was waiting for his answer.

"This is a different question, and it goes back to what we were talking about just before, with what happened when that stranger scared you. When you first told me about the creepy stranger, you told me you were scared because he could've taken you away to his house. What did you think he was going to do there?"

Russell's marker stilled against the page. Then it started again, and he didn't answer.

"I understand if that is a difficult question. I can try a different one. When was the first time a man scared you like the creepy stranger did?" asked Mister Ambrose, his voice calm like usual.

Russell continued to ignore him. If he ignored him, maybe Mister Ambrose would stop. 

"I see that this is a subject matter that you'd rather avoid. That's alright. Do you think you could just tell me why this is difficult to discuss for you?"

Russell colored the eye. It wasn't red enough. He didn't want to look up at the therapist. The silence stretched on and on. Mister Ambrose was still waiting. Russell finally muttered that it was because he didn't like how it made him feel to think about those things.

"Can you describe how it makes you feel?"

The ink from the marker had saturated the paper where Russell had been coloring the eye again and again, and it tore slightly under the tip. Russell pulled the marker away and stared, frustrated, at the damaged drawing. He didn't like how he felt now, even if they weren't talking about the creepy stranger or the beasts anymore; it was like worms wriggling under his skin, like a stick prodding at his insides that he couldn't twist away from.

He said he just didn't like it. 

The small hole in the paper stared back at him. Russell hated that he'd ruined the drawing, like a sear in his chest. He grabbed onto the burning sensation, more familiar, more reliable. Anger protected him from feeling the rest. The anger grew and grew in the silence. Mister Ambrose was waiting for more, and Russell didn't want to give more. He'd had enough of this.

Russell gripped the marker and smashed it on the desk, again and again, and it struck his drawing with small splotches of lost ink. One left a dent on the paper, and it angered him even more. He stood up and grabbed the drawing. It ripped apart before he could think twice about what he was doing. He let the pieces flutter to the ground and stared at his ruined drawing, shoulders heaving. 

“Russell–”

Russell burst into movement once more. He grabbed the heavy chair, wanting to throw it on the desk, but all he managed to do was to topple it over. It struck the wooden floor with a loud thud. He wanted to destroy more. He wanted to hurt more. He wanted to crush more, to get rid of it all.

"It wasn't my intent to anger you," said Mister Ambrose. 

Mister Ambrose hadn't moved from his seat. He hadn't moved at all, and he was just gazing at Russell. He didn't sound surprised. He didn't sound angry. He sounded calm, like always.

Russell breathed hard, the red anger slowly clearing from his eyes. He stood there. He was in the office. The heavy chair laid on the ground. The pieces of his drawing were scattered in the flat rug. He’d been violent again, like he’d been so many times before Copperfield. Dread gripped him suddenly. He’d been violent, like with Tabasa. His head snapped up, and he warily stared at the therapist.

“It’s alright,” said Mister Ambrose. “Everything’s fine.”

Russell said to please not tell Tabasa. He didn’t want Tabasa to be scared of him again. Mister Ambrose looked a little surprised, but that moment quickly fleeted, and then he was calm again.

“I won’t. You know I don’t tell Tabasa anything that you don’t want me to, Russell. This is no different. However, I’d like you to pick up the chair and the drawing, please.”

Russell obeyed, though he didn’t take his eyes off of the therapist. He wasn’t sure what Mister Ambrose would do to him. He didn’t want to get hit, or locked in a room somewhere, but Russell wasn’t sure what he’d do if Mister Ambrose got up to punish him. He deserved it. He wasn’t allowed to fight that.

“Thank you,” said Mister Ambrose when Russell set down the pieces of paper on the desk. “Now, you do know that your reaction was disproportionate, don’t you?”

Russell hunched his shoulders and nodded.

“So, what do you think you should do?”

Russell hesitated, and muttered: sorry.

“Thank you. I accept your apology.”

Mister Ambrose didn’t look scared. Russell hesitated again, and then asked if he was scared. The therapist shook his head.

“No, I’m not. Have you scared other people like this before?”

Yes.

“You said Tabasa would be scared of you if he knew what happened here. Why?”

Russell lowered his gaze. He didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, you can tell me another time.”

Russell nodded, and asked why Mister Ambrose wasn’t scared. He’d been violent. He could’ve hurt him.

“You didn’t scare me because I knew what to expect. Violence is the main reaction to distress for many people. Freezing, or fleeing, as well. I asked you difficult questions, Russell. I knew that there was a possibility you would react like this.”

Russell didn’t say anything.

“I think,” said Mister Ambrose, his voice making it sound like he was only making a small suggestion, “that you could tell Tabasa what happened just now. Maybe he would understand you better like this. Maybe he would be less scared when it happened again, if, like me, he knew that this was to be expected.”

Russell shook his head, frowning at the desk. He wouldn’t be violent with Tabasa again. Never again. He never wanted to hurt him or scare him ever again.

“I understand,” said Mister Ambrose. “But this isn’t the sort of reaction that can always be controlled. You’ve been through very difficult things, Russell. Anger is a reflex for you when you are confronted with scary things, and violence is not far behind.” 

Russell didn’t look up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the therapist gather the pieces of the drawing in front of him. Mister Ambrose opened a drawer. He pulled out a roll of transparent tape and snapped a few pieces off, then put the pieces of paper in their original place and began taping the drawing back together. He did it in silence. Russell stayed quiet too. Mister Ambrose slid the fixed drawing in front of Russell.

“I know that you don’t react that way freely. I know that you’re aware of the harm you can cause when you’re in that state, and that you feel genuinely regretful afterwards. You aren’t a bad person, Russell. You can’t be blamed for the existence of these violent reactions, but their hurtful consequences are very real and other people may not understand. That is why I think it’s important that you give the person you trust the most a way to stand next to you when it happens– as someone who can help you, not judge you. And the way to do that is to allow them to understand what’s happening to you, when it happens.” 

Mister Ambrose’s voice gentled. 

“I think it’s worth noting that, when you panicked at home, the thing that really allowed you to calm down was being next to Tabasa. You felt safe with him. It’s very good that you could tell me this, because now we know that Tabasa is your safe place. This is a very important thing for people like you who have a particular need for stability and security. We should give him the means to be that safe place for you as often as possible. It will help you. Do you understand?”

Russell hugged himself. This was a lot. It was too much. He didn’t understand everything, and he felt on edge because of it. 

“It’s fine if you don’t understand right now. Just think about it,” said Mister Ambrose. “We can talk about it again next time we meet.”

Russell stared at his repaired drawing. He’d ruined it.

"It's still a good drawing. A pretty rabbit. But you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want it, it’s yours to do what you will with it. You can always make another drawing," said Mister Ambrose.

Russell shook his head mutinously. He didn't want to make another stupid drawing. He'd ruined this one, and he didn't care to ruin another.

“Alright. That’s fine too.”

Russell’s frown deepened. Mister Ambrose didn’t help him like Doctor Cardinal did. Russell had liked her glittery pens better. And her way of talking had been easier to understand. With Mister Ambrose, Russell felt like he was always floating, not knowing where they were going with the questions the therapist asked. He’d had more direction with Doctor Cardinal. She’d tell him what to do, and how to do it, and he didn’t have a choice because she’d keep insisting what was the best thing to do. Mister Ambrose always left him a choice. He never gave Russell any real instructions. It was annoying.

Russell said he missed Doctor Cardinal. She’d been less confusing.

Mister Ambrose said, “It sounds like she was a great psychiatrist for you. I’m glad you could be treated by her.”

Russell insisted that she’d been easier to understand. He asked why Mister Ambrose couldn’t be clearer about things. Why he couldn’t just tell Russell what to do to get better, like she had.

“Well,” said Mister Ambrose, and it sounded like he’d known that Russell would complain about this one day, “that’s the difference between a psychiatrist like Doctor Cardinal and a therapist like me. She is a doctor, and she has a certain order of things to check and treat. A psychiatrist’s job is to identify the illness, like finding the mental injury, and to figure out how to treat it with medical ways so that it can become stable and easier to handle. But that isn’t enough on its own for a person to get better. The mental injury is wrapped in hurt emotions, and they have to heal, too. Emotions are a very tricky subject, very complex, and that is why there is an entire other job– mine– that exists to take care of them.”

Russell wasn’t certain he knew what Mister Ambrose was saying. To him, there was simply something different about his existence compared to the normal people, and it didn’t matter if it was mental or emotional or anything else. He was just made wrong. Broken. The normal people said he had to be fixed, and that was why he was here, in Mister Ambrose’s office. To be fixed.

“It seems like what I just said wasn’t very clear to you,” observed Mister Ambrose.

Russell shook his head. It wasn’t.

“That’s fine. Many people find it hard to understand, it isn’t just you. Don’t worry about it too much. Just know that I want to help you get better, Russell, just like Doctor Cardinal did. She and I have the same goal.”

Mister Ambrose looked at his watch.

“It’s time,” he said. “Before we go get Tabasa, let’s agree on what you want me to tell him. What do you think he should be allowed to know?”

Russell thought about it. He asked Mister Ambrose if he could explain the violence thing to him, because Russell didn’t think he’d be able to, since he didn’t understand it all himself.

“Of course,” said Mister Ambrose. “That’s very courageous of you, Russell. Thank you for trusting me and Tabasa both.”

Russell just nodded. He didn’t really think it was that courageous. Mister Ambrose was just being nice about this, like he was nice about most things.

Chapter Text

Tabasa received the news on a Thursday afternoon. He lowered his phone and saw that Russell was staring at him from his spot on the couch. Russell always sat on the couch reading or playing video games when he came back from school. In that moment, he'd lost focus on the screen, and his perceptive blue eyes were trained on Tabasa. It looked like he knew, or like he was close to guessing. Tabasa put his phone face down on the table and breathed in.

"That was the hospital. About... your dad."

Russell didn't say anything.

"There were complications at home, and... they got him to the emergency room too late. He, um... He died."

Russell continued staring at Tabasa, and then he just nodded, and he resumed playing. Tabasa glanced at the game and then back at Russell.

"...Are you okay?"

Russell shrugged. He didn't say yes, and he didn't say no. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Russell didn't react. Tabasa decided not to push the issue. 

The matter didn't come up again for the next few days, so Tabasa was surprised when Russell asked him one evening, completely out of the blue, what was going to happen to his father. Tabasa told Russell what he’d been told: that there would be a funeral sometime this week, which would be quick, and cheap, and small. Russell said he wanted to go. 

"Are you sure...?"

Russell said yes. 

They went. 

It was on a sunny Tuesday, cold and windy, and the orange leaves rustled above their heads. Tabasa and Russell waited outside the crematorium with four other people and Mrs. Seager, who’d been authorized out of jail for a day. No one was talking. He could only guess that they were all family members of Mr. Seager. Tabasa also noticed several cold reproving glances shot in their direction. Clearly, Russell wasn't welcome here. He wasn't looking up from the ground. Tabasa patted the back of Russell's hand, where the boy’s fingers were curled into his green coat. He knew Mrs. Seager's presence wasn't making things any easier for Russell. He felt the same way.

The hearse rolled up after about fifteen minutes of waiting and they finally entered the chapel. Tabasa followed Russell up to the first rows and sat in front of the catafalque where they placed the coffin. They'd done a good job of repairing the man's head. He felt a bit uneasy when he noticed the way Russell’s unwavering blue gaze was trained on Mr. Seager's pale, unmoving face. Was he angry? Was he relieved? Was he sad? Was he just making sure that his father was gone for good? Tabasa couldn't tell.

The service began. Russell didn't pay attention to anything. It was only when he heard the beginning of his mother's speech that his head snapped up, and Tabasa felt the moment their gazes met. Russell stiffened at his side. Tabasa felt frozen too. As far as Tabasa could tell, Mrs. Seager wasn't pretending to be saddened by her husband’s death; but she didn't hide the anger in her eyes, the hatred in the curl of her lips. Dread filled Tabasa and he knew that he had to get them both out of here before she spat her accusing venom at her son. Whatever it was that Russell had wanted to do by coming here, it wasn't worth this . 

Tabasa shot out of his seat and pulled Russell along with him. He heard the celebrant ask a question in a tone of confusion. Tabasa answered with a vague excuse which he didn't even completely hear himself saying, and then they were back outside, next to the car. Russell asked why they'd left.

"Because I didn't want your mother to pull another one of her twisted moves," replied Tabasa a bit drily. He felt agitated. He wanted to leave. "Come on, get in the car."

Russell didn't get in the car. He just stood there and stared up at the chapel.

"Russell," Tabasa called as he opened the driver's door.

The boy continued looking straight ahead. Then, he quietly said: he's really dead.

Tabasa stopped moving. 

"...Yes, Russell. He's really dead."

Russell didn't move. He didn't say anything else. After a while of utter silence, Tabasa walked around the vehicle and crouched next to him

"You okay, buddy?"

Russell blinked and looked at Tabasa like he hadn't heard him come closer. He nodded. The movement seemed uncertain.

"It's fine if you don't feel okay, Russell. And it's also fine if you actually feel more than okay about this."

Russell looked down and murmured that he didn't know. Then, he started tearing up. 

Tabasa felt his heart drop and he quickly said: "Hey, Russ, it's okay. It's okay, I promise."

A teardrop fell to the ground and Russell looked surprised to see the small round stain appear at his feet. He wiped at his face and looked at the wetness on the back of his hand, then looked up at Tabasa and said that he didn't understand why he was crying. He wasn't hurt and he wasn't sad. He didn't think he was sad. He didn't understand why this kept happening to him.

Tabasa said, compassionately: "Yeah... It's fine if you can't figure it all out right now. It's normal to feel confused. You wanna go home?"

Russell nodded and whispered: yes, please.

*

Tabasa jerked awake and blinked owlishly in the dark. He was a light sleeper and it often happened for him to get pulled out of rest by a rescue making noise at night, but he soon remembered that no animals could be responsible for it this time around, because he hadn't taken in any since Russell had moved in two months ago. Tabasa quickly turned on his bedside lamp then rolled around to look at the other bed, which he found empty. A quick glance at his phone told him it was 3AM. He heard a sound like a quick gasp. He frowned to himself, a vague feeling of unease starting to nag at him, and pulled back the covers to get out of bed. Tabasa padded into the living room. City lights seeped through the cracks in the blinds and he saw the boy's shape huddled up on the couch.

"Russell?"

Russell shifted with a sound of sniffling and rubbing, and then his head moved up in Tabasa's direction. He didn't say anything, of course. Tabasa came closer.

"What are you doing up? ...Are you having trouble sleeping?"

Russell hunched in on himself.

"Can I sit next to you?"

Russell didn't move, didn't shake his head, so Tabasa slowly sat down on the couch with him. Now that he was closer, he could feel the tremors in Russell's body. The light caught onto a faint glimmer that lined the boy's fingers and Tabasa realized that it was because his hands were wet. Russell had been crying. That was what he’d heard, that small gasp– it had been a sob. Russell didn't sob, usually. Tabasa's concern grew. 

"Did... Did you have a nightmare?"

Russell shrugged. A confirmation, but also a sign that he didn't think it was a big deal. Maybe Tabasa would have been inclined to act like it if Russell hadn't still been shaking. He would've liked to hug him, but Russell generally didn't take kindly to being touched after a nightmare. Tabasa had gotten violently pushed away the first two times, and he hadn't tried again after that. He'd never really managed to give Russell a true hug. 

"A big nightmare?" he asked, to clarify.

Another shrug. Tabasa hadn't really expected to have a deep, extensive conversation on the matter, but it was still frustrating to have nothing much to go on when it came to Russell's trauma. It was like he held onto it, protected it from prying eyes, and after all this time living together it was worrying that he still kept so quiet. That he chose not to alert Tabasa when he was so distressed.

"...Okay." Tabasa gazed at him. "Does a glass of warm milk sound good? ...Hot chocolate maybe? We can even eat a little midnight snack, if you want." 

He didn't get an answer, so Tabasa got up to head for the kitchen without waiting for one. He turned on the light as he went, the small one above the sink so that it wouldn't hurt Russell's eyes, and then rummaged through the fridge to take out the milk. He turned around to grab the cocoa powder and then took two mugs out of the cupboard. Tabasa glanced at Russell. The boy's eyes were distant, puffy and wet, and he wasn't moving from hugging his knees on the couch. Tabasa wondered how bad his nightmare must have been to make him shake like that. When the two mugs of hot chocolate were ready, he picked up the half-opened plastic box of cookies on the upper shelf and brought everything to the table, where he sat down.

"Are you coming?"

Russell looked up when he heard Tabasa talk to him, and then he gazed at the food on the table. The empty look in his eyes slowly morphed into hesitance. Tabasa lightly rattled the box of cookies. He felt like he was coaxing a small animal to come closer.

"Come on, you'll feel better with some sugar in you. The hot chocolate will help, too."

Russell finally unfolded his scrawny body from the couch and shuffled closer. He slipped into the chair next to Tabasa and pulled his mug close to him. His blond hair was all messy, and he looked pale, even in the faint yellow light that radiated from the kitchen. Tabasa saw some of the tension in his shoulders melt away when he held onto the warm mug.

"Here, take one," he said as he pushed the box closer to him. Russell reached out and took a cookie. It wasn't whole, a piece had crumbled off, but he made no move to pick up the rest of it. Tabasa watched him take a bite and quietly munch on it. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

Russell took his time to finish his bite, and then he rubbed the mug between his hands, and said it had just been a nightmare.

"I know you get a lot of them, Russell... But you never talk about them."

Russel said that he always had nightmares. Always. It wasn't interesting to anyone except Dr. Cardinal and Mr. Ambrose. Other people found his nightmares annoying, because he made noise.

"What people?"

His roommates. His parents.

Tabasa frowned. "You mean... You had nightmares even before the accident in your house?"

Russell nodded, and took a sip of hot chocolate.

"Big nightmares? Like this one?"

Sometimes. But not like this one.

"What would you do when you woke up?"

Nothing.

Tabasa already knew the answer to his question, but he had to ask. "Did your parents comfort you?"

Russell looked up at him and looked confused. He asked what he meant by that.

"Well... Like I'm doing now. Talking, or a hug, or something."

Russell shook his head, and said that they asked him to go back to sleep and be quiet.

Tabasa clenched his hands around his mug, unhappy, but careful not to show it too much. He didn't want to upset Russell more by looking angry. "Did you tell someone that this used to happen?"

Yes.

"Does Mr. Ambrose know? I mean, does he know that you had nightmares even before Yumi?"

No.

"... Maybe you should tell him. Maybe it would be helpful if he knew that you already had all that going on at night before everything happened."

Russell shrugged and lifted his mug of hot chocolate to his lips again. Tabasa leaned on his elbow and watched him drink.

"Do you feel a bit better?"

Russell lowered his mug to the table and said yes.

"Do you think you had a big nightmare because of the funeral today?"

Russell shook his head. It hadn't been about his dad. It had been about someone different, it was a dream he already used to have before. It was the one about Kantera.

"...Who's that?"

Russell was silent for a little bit, staring at the brown, smooth liquid in his mug. Then, slowly, he began to explain that Kantera was a doctor. A nice doctor. A nice doctor who wore a kimono and lived in his small red medicine shop. He'd taught Russell about a different land where there were dragons with no wings, delicious dumplings, and soft chewy desserts in the shape of flowers. In that land, funerals were quiet except for a lonely dull bell, and bones crackled in fire, and red higanbana lilies laid all around.

"The crematorium," realized Tabasa. "This man– this Kantera– he told you about crematoriums, and today reminded you of him."

Russell considered it and then nodded lightly, like he hadn't thought about it himself. Maybe it had.

"And you said red lilies, so it was the empty shop we visited the other day? Was that for him?"

Yes, said Russell. Tabasa wondered what had happened to that place, where the doctor had gone. He wondered if the doctor had figured out about Russell's problems and if that was why he'd been so nice to him. He wondered if he'd tried to help Russell.

"This doctor... You sound like you miss him."

Russell nodded.

"How did you become friends?"

Russell stared ahead. Then, he quietly said that he didn't know if they were really friends. Kantera had been kind to him, caring, always ready to let him stay in his shop on rainy days and to show him the wonderful things from his country. But one day, he'd asked for a favor; and Russell thought that this favor he’d asked of Russell was the reason why Kantera had ever been so nice to him in the first place. Kantera had thought that Russell understood him and would do him that favor. Russell hadn't wanted to do it. This refusal had hurt Kantera’s feelings. And Russell thought that because of him, Kantera had died painfully. Because he hadn’t wanted to do the favor.

A bad feeling sprouted in Tabasa's gut. "What kind of favor, Russell?"

Russell fell silent. Then he let go of his mug and flexed his hand without looking, like he was remembering something.

"Russell," repeated Tabasa, his voice just a little bit odd in his ears. "Did he hurt you?"

Russell shook his head. No, it wasn't Kantera who'd hurt him. It was Russell who'd hurt Kantera. Kantera had died horribly because Russell hadn't helped him. Kantera had eaten poison all alone. Kantera had told him how painful it had been. 

Tabasa stared at Russell in dread and confusion. 

"What do you mean... What do you mean, when you say he told you how much it hurt?"

In dreams, whispered Russell. In dreams, Kantera said that it would have been better.

"What would have been better?"

The knife, simply said Russell. The knife would have been quicker. But he didn't know if he would've done a good job. The knife had been heavy and big. He just... hadn't wanted to do it. Even if Kantera had been nice to him. Even if Kantera had been asking for a favor. Even if Kantera had looked like he was in so much pain, crying, and begging for Russell to do it. He'd been so kind to him, but Russell hadn't even helped him in exchange for all his kindness.

"He asked you to kill him?" whispered Tabasa, horrified. 

He didn't know if he could believe something this messed up. But... could Russell really make up something that was this disturbing? There was no reason to tell a lie like this. Had it been a nightmare? But Russell was talking about this like it was a secret he'd kept to himself for a long time. Tabasa brought a hand to his forehead, staring at the table, dumbstruck.

"And we went and basically left flowers on this guy's grave..."

Russell yawned and rubbed his eyes, and he said it was okay, that Tabasa shouldn't be so surprised. It was what adults did when they wanted to be friends. Mireille had done it, she'd looked after him, she'd been helpful, and then she'd asked for a favor. And Tabasa would, too, once he figured out what it was that he wanted from Russell. 

Tabasa's attention snapped away from the table and back to Russell, and he firmly said: "Okay, no . No, that's not how it works, that's not-- I'd never do that. People don't do that. Normal people don't... God, Russell. I don't even know how I can explain-- Who's… Mireille? What did she do?"

Russell blinked hazily and said that she was a nurse. At the hospital. Tabasa had met her too, with Chris, at the hospital, when Russell had been sick. Chris had said she was pretty.

Tabasa scrambled to remember, and then he finally found the memory of the green-eyed nurse with the pink hair, with her shy stutter, and her odd faraway look he'd caught on her face when she hadn't seen him coming closer, and her cold refusal to disclose any information about Russell's previous visits to the hospital. Mireille Nif. 

Tabasa was slammed with the realization that he had seen her again, later, and that this was why her face had been so familiar when he'd seen it right before going to Russell's trial. Mireille was the courtroom nurse. She'd been there at the doors of the trial. 

Tabasa grabbed the boy by the arm. "Russell, what did she do?"

Russell looked down at his hand in surprise, and the tired haze in his eyes was chased by a sharp focus, and he looked wary when he told Tabasa that she'd asked for the same thing as the doctor. She'd asked him to help kill her, at the hospital, on the roof. But it was fine if Tabasa didn't believe him, added Russell. He knew that no one would believe him.

" Two people asked you to kill them?" incredulously uttered Tabasa. 

Russell slowly nodded. It was an exchange, he explained, again, as if Tabasa hadn't understood the first time. Russell made it sound like it was simple and obvious. Nothing about this was simple or obvious. This couldn't be true. Could it? Because if it was true, then... Then what Russell had been through was even more messed up than Tabasa had known. There was no way this could have genuinely happened. And yet, Tabasa couldn’t very well consider that Russell was lying to him about this, either. Russell was a deeply perturbed kid, but he didn’t lie. In fact, he was too honest for his own good; the trial had been proof of that.

"Shit," breathed Tabasa. 

Russell pulled away from him, hunching in, caution growing on his face. That was when Tabasa realized that he was still gripping Russell's arm, so he quickly let go. Russell curled up in his seat and laid a protective hand over his arm, silently staring up at him like a prudent animal. A pang of guilt shot through Tabasa. 

"Sorry! Sorry, I... Did I hurt you?"

Russell quietly shook his head, but he was leaning away from him. He had his poker face on, now. Tabasa knew he'd upset him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. "I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I'm sorry, Russell. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I'm sorry. If I'd known, I... I don't know what I would've done, but if only I'd known... No wonder you... No wonder you can't trust that I really care for you." 

He dragged in a breath, expelled it in a huge sigh. 

" God . The things you went through."

Russell didn't say anything.

"If I'd known that this Kantera guy had done that to you, Russell, I don't think I would've been fine with putting the flowers in front of that shop. Do you even... Do you realize what he did? Do you understand how messed-up these people are?"

A faint frown creased Russell's forehead.

"They abused your trust, Russell. That Kantera... You talk about him like he was so kind to you, but you realize he..."

Russell shook his head.

"Yes, he did take advantage of you. Russell, he did!"

Russell abruptly shot out of his seat. The bathroom's lock clicked before Tabasa was even fully standing. He stared at the door, and then just let himself fall back down in his chair. He didn't hear any sounds coming from the other room. Tabasa sighed and rubbed his forehead. He remembered what Mr. Ambrose had said about Russell getting conditioned to not trust people in a position of authority or caregiving. Russell's therapist needed to know about this. Tabasa decided he'd write an e-mail while he waited for Russell to come back out, and he stood up to go find his phone.

God. What the fuck was wrong with people.

*

Tabasa woke up when he heard the bathroom door click open, and he lifted his head in a daze, blinking and trying to make out the shape that was stepping out of the bathroom. Everything came rushing back to him when he saw Russell's pale face.

"Russell," he called out, his voice low and rusty with sleep. Russell went still. Tabasa straightened and rubbed his face, frantic to explain himself through the daze of fatigue. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you... I should've handled that better. I just didn't realize that all that had happened to you and it... it came as a shock. Are you okay?"

Russell hesitated, and then he gave a very small shake of his head, as if he could barely admit that he wasn’t.

"Oh, Russ." Tabasa carefully got up and walked closer, and slowly crouched in front of him. "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry you had to go through all that... You don't feel okay, I can understand that. It's fine not to be fine."

Russell said nothing. He just gazed at Tabasa with those big, worn eyes. 

“Will you be scared if I touch you again?”

Russell shook his head no. That was reassuring. Tabasa laid a hand on his thin shoulder, and Russell let him. He looked so small and so old at the same time. His features were pale and drawn, the way a face that young never should’ve looked. So much pain, such deep and twisted abuse of a lost child’s trust, and Russell had gone through it all alone. Tabasa's heart ached. He pulled him closer.

"Come here."

Russell stiffened in his arms. Tabasa quickly loosened his hold when he realized that he'd hugged the boy without thinking– again, he was really bad at this, wasn't he–, fully expecting to be shoved away, but that didn't happen. Russell touched one of Tabasa's arms with a strange expression on his face. It didn't look like he knew what he intended by that. Tabasa didn't know what to make of it either.

"Russell?"

The sound of his name snapped Russell out of his trance. He suddenly pushed against Tabasa's chest and stepped out of the already open circle of his arms. Russell stumbled to a stop in the middle of the room, then stood there with his shoulders hiked up. His blue eyes were round as saucers. Tabasa held up his hands.

"Woah, it's okay. It's okay, Russell. Is it that I shouldn't have done that?"

Russell looked down and wrapped his arms around himself, seeming lost, and then he directed a bewildered glance at Tabasa. He took a step closer to him, and stopped. His gaze dropped back down to the floor. He looked very indecisive.

"Are you okay?" asked Tabasa, regretting his thoughtless choice of action and at the same time wondering what he'd triggered in Russell. This behavior was odd, even for him.

In the end, Russell just spun around to go to their bedroom without another word or sign to explain what was going on. Tabasa watched him leave. He waited a bit before he also went to the bedroom. When he entered it after Russell, he saw that the kid had curled up and hidden under his blanket. He wasn’t shaking, fortunately. Maybe he was just too tired to deal with anything else. Tabasa didn't try to reach out to him again. This had been a lot for one night, and they both needed sleep.

Tabasa felt terribly, inevitably tired himself.

Chapter Text

Tabasa was fueled by the same dreadful concern that had led him to Mrs. Seager’s door when he decided to return to the hospital alone, during his lunch break. The zoo and the hospital weren’t close, but he had the time to spare. Tabasa didn’t see what other moment he’d be able to do this. He didn’t want Russell to know that he intended to pry. After what Russell had told him, Tabasa absolutely needed to talk to Mireille Nif, even if Russell refused to understand the gravity of her actions– if they were indeed true. Tabasa needed to know how involved she was in Russell’s story. And if Russell had told the truth, Tabasa needed to know why the nurse had targeted him for her twisted ‘favor’. 

Tabasa had already come here a first time after Russell had first told him about Kantera and Mireille, in the beginning of December. It turned out that the nurse hadn’t been at work for a while. One of her colleagues had kindly told Tabasa that she’d get the word out, and that he could try and come back in two weeks to see if Mireille Nif was back yet. Tabasa hadn’t managed to learn whether it was sick leave or vacations. However, he had been told that she’d return. There was nothing else he could do but wait.

After a month, he hoped that she was back, because the thought of Russell going through something so messed up and never talking about it to anyone before Tabasa still clung to the back of his head weeks later. He would’ve liked to say that he was doing this for Russell’s sake, but really, it was for his own. He needed a way to clear his head of doubt. He needed… He needed to understand why. Why, why Russell, and why such a terrible thing.

They told him to wait in the waiting area. The cheery Christmas decorations didn’t help make him feel more at ease. The secretary made a call, then directed him down the hallway to the nurse’s office. Tabasa went, and stood around for a bit. The nurses all looked busy. A few were sitting down at the table with paper cups probably filled with coffee or tea, but they were reading each other things from the papers in front of them, so he didn’t dare disturb the process. Finally, one of the younger nurses caught sight of him and asked him if he was here to see someone.

“Mireille Nif,” he said.

The blonde nurse’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Mireille? She left.”

“What?”

“Yes. She must’ve forgotten to tell you. Are you one of our patients’ parent? Or brother, maybe?”

“That…” Tabasa frowned too, and shook his head. “What do you mean, she left? …For good?”

“She doesn’t work here anymore,” said the young nurse. “But that’s all I can say. It’s not really my place to talk about it.”

“Oh… Okay. You don’t know where she went?”

“Sorry, sir, but…”

“Oh, right… Um… Okay. Thank you,” he awkwardly said, and then shuffled away.

He tried to ask the secretary, but she told him the same thing. It was normal that they didn’t want to give away the ex-employee’s personal information to a stranger, but it was disheartening. Mireille Nif had just vanished. Tabasa wouldn’t get his answer. 

As he left the hospital, a little dejected, he came to the conclusion that he just had to trust Russell. If Russell said something so serious, then it meant it was true to him, and that was all that mattered. And maybe Mireille Nif’s disappearance wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to stay in the place where someone like Tabasa could come find her and the skeletons in her closet.

On Friday, Tabasa brought Russell to the pediatrician during the afternoon to renew his prescription. Russell never talked much to Doctor Trace. In fact, he never talked much when he was in the hospital. Russell didn’t like this place. It made him go quiet, and he didn’t use his notepad unless Tabasa insisted that he had to answer to Doctor Trace– and even that wasn’t a surefire way to get him to communicate. Tabasa had discussed the idea of seeing a different pediatrician in town before, but Doctor Trace disagreed. There were two reasons: Doctor Trace was the only professional who had closely followed Russell’s health before and during the incident, and most importantly, Russell couldn’t avoid hospitals forever. It was better to let him get used to going while he was still just a kid. 

Tabasa suspected that, on some level, Russell deeply distrusted Doctor Trace. They’d talked about it with Mister Ambrose. The therapist said it could be linked to a variety of things, from Russell’s inherent aversion to being a patient in the hospital all the way up to the fact that Doctor Trace had been the one to signal the abuse to the correct authorities. Tabasa found Doctor Trace very… relaxed. The doctor never took Russell’s discourteous behavior personally, and just seemed glad that Russell’s parents were out of the picture. Tabasa thought he was a good man. He hoped Russell would come around and think the same eventually.

The next morning, Tabasa found Russell contemplating his pills at breakfast. The two small tablets laid in his hand and Russell just stared at them. He looked deep in thought. Tabasa hoped he wasn’t starting to feel reluctant about them again, like he’d been during Copperfield. Doctor Cardinal wouldn’t be around to make him see reason this time. Tabasa tried not to be obvious in his staring as he worriedly waited for Russell to move while he busied himself in the kitchen preparing toast. Thankfully, Russell ended up downing them with a swig of fruit juice, like every other morning.

“What were you thinking about?” Tabasa asked him as he came back to the table with the warm toast.

Russell looked up at him and said: the medicine.

Tabasa sat down across from him, pushing the plate towards Russell. “What’s the matter with it?”

Russell grabbed a piece of toast and a spoonful of jam. He still didn’t know for sure if the medication helped him. He’d only really been taking it because Doctor Cardinal had said to, and also because… Russell looked up at Tabasa briefly, then back down at his toast. Because it seemed to reassure Tabasa if he took his pills.

“Yeah… I remember you really used to balk at the sight of them. I’m glad you take them now.”

It had taken no small amount of convincing. For a long time, Russell had refused to put the pills anywhere near his mouth. The only reason he’d finally yielded was because Tabasa had basically begged for it nonstop. Every morning, he’d put the pills next to his breakfast with Doctor Cardinal’s hand-written prescription paper and told Russell to please take them so he could start getting better. Russell had complied, one day. Tabasa still didn’t know how he’d managed to convince him. Mister Ambrose had been working on it too, so maybe the therapist deserved the credit. At any rate, it was a joint effort that had paid off.

Tabasa asked: “...You’re not thinking of stopping again, are you…?”

Russell shook his head. That was what he’d been thinking about the medicine. It had been a while since he’d last thought that he wouldn’t care if he died. And he felt less empty. He liked being with Tabasa now, and with Yumi, and Chris and Gardenia. He was different from before, even if it was just a little bit.

“That’s… really good, Russell. I’m happy you told me that,” said Tabasa, amazed. “...I think Mister Ambrose would be happy too.”

Russell nodded. He’d tell him next time.

“Yes, good, that’d be good,” said Tabasa. He watched Russell eat. “So, I was thinking… We could go on a walk later. It’s sunny. We could go downtown, borrow a new book, get some hot chocolate… What do you think?”

Russell hesitated, then slowly nodded again. Despite the caution he displayed, his blue eyes suddenly seemed a bit brighter. Tabasa cheerily smiled at him.

“Alright then! It’s a deal.”

Tabasa’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the message he’d just received. It was from Yumi.

“Huh…” said Tabasa. He looked back up at Russell. “Actually… Would you be interested in checking out the winter market? Yumi’s going there today.”

Russell hesitated.

“We’d still get hot chocolate. Last year’s was really good… And I’m sure we’ll see a lot of nice decorations that you’ll like,” said Tabasa.

Russell said okay.

The winter market was set up in an area that wasn’t far from the Morning Glory Church. They could see the church’s black flowers from the stands. A few flyers pinned here and there informed the common passerby that the market had been organized in part by the Morning Glory Church, and in part by neighbors and volunteers. Tabasa walked along the wooden cabins and fairy lights with Russell in tow. Russell wasn’t talking. He just looked all around at the people and the decorations, and Tabasa wondered if he was imagining the grim look on the boy’s face. Eventually, he found a stand selling warm beverages and guided Russell closer to it.

“Here you go,” said Tabasa, handing him a cup of hot chocolate. Russell took it in his hands, glancing to the side. Tabasa asked: “...Are you okay?”

Russell observed that this was all for Christmas.

“...Yeah.”

Russell nodded, his features tight.

“Is something wrong…?”

Russell cradled the cup in his mittens and said nothing. Tabasa took his own cup and thanked the vendor. When he started walking again, Russell followed.

Tabasa asked: “Is this the first time you’ve come here?”

Russell nodded. They walked some more. Then, Russell muttered that he didn’t like Christmas very much. Tabasa suddenly realized that the boy probably hadn’t spent a single happy Christmas with his horrible parents. He felt stupid for how long it had taken him to think of that.

“Oh, well, actually… we don’t have to celebrate it,” said Tabasa. “To be honest, usually I just spend it alone and eat a nice meal. …And I watch a movie I like.”

Russell raised a dubious gaze in his direction.

“No, it’s true,” insisted Tabasa. “You know… that’s how a lot of single adults do it. Pine trees are a pain to set up… real or fake, it doesn’t matter. So if you don’t want to celebrate Christmas, we can just… not! I’ll still get you a gift, of course.”

Russell shook his head. No need.

“Um…” Tabasa had thought that he would like a gift, so this refusal surprised him. Russell’s decisions were his to make, and a saved expense was always welcome, but still… “Are you sure…?”

Russell didn’t want a gift. He was categorical about it.

“Well, okay… No problem. So… it’ll be just a nice meal and a movie? Is that what you’d like?”

Russell nodded. Tabasa nodded too.

“Alright… Sounds good to me.”

They reached the wide area at the center of the market, where people were bunched in groups of two or three, sitting on the benches beneath the warm lights. The snow glittered with colors, green, blue, yellow, red. Some ornaments had been hung on the naked tree branches. Tabasa approached it to admire the golden bells, small fuzzy reindeers, and homemade snow globes. Artificial candles had been set all around the tree trunks. He saw a pot nestled in one of the tree’s roots filled with candy canes, and he went to pick one up. It was real. He pocketed it for later, for Russell. 

Tabasa turned around and saw that Russell was staring up at paper angels hanging from the back of one of the wooden cabins. Their faces were drawn in crayon and their painted hair was covered in gold glitter. It looked like something the church would have asked kids to make during one of their arts and crafts workshops in Sunday School. He decided to let Russell take his time and went to check out another stand that interested him, small animals carved in pine wood. He pondered on whether or not he should bring one back for Dani’s office at the zoo. 

“Hello again,” said a man next to him.

Tabasa peered up from under his hood, and was surprised to see the young priest from the church looking right at him. Tabasa straightened.

“Oh, um, hello…” He cleared his throat. “Hello, Father.”

“It occurs to me that we never told each other our names,” said the priest. “My name is Dogma. And you are?”

“Tabasa…”

“Well, Tabasa. I’m glad to cross paths with you here.” Dogma looked around. “Isn’t this all wonderful? We all did our best to make this another winter market worthy of the name.”

“Yes, it’s very… nice.”

Tabasa wished he’d thought of a better word. He hadn’t expected anyone to strike up a conversation with him out here except Yumi when they crossed paths, and especially not the local priest. Dogma turned back to him, raising inquisitive eyebrows.

“Did Russell come with you today as well?”

“Um, yes. He’s right over… there,” said Tabasa, pointing at Russell, who still had his back turned to them. He wasn’t looking at the angels anymore. He seemed to have focused on something on the side of the cabin.

Dogma hummed appreciatively. “I hope he is enjoying himself.”

“...I think he is.”

“A little holiday cheer never hurts.” Dogma looked up at Tabasa, which was when he noticed that the priest was a little shorter than him. “Has he managed to find some peace?”

“Um… It’s not easy,” said Tabasa. “It might take him a while to get better.”

“Better?” echoed Dogma. “Is he still ill?”

“Well, I suppose you could say that… With everything that happened to him, sometimes it’s like it’s still happening, you know…” Tabasa trailed off when he realized that Dogma didn’t, in actuality, seem to know. The priest looked perplexed. After a beat, Tabasa asked: “Father, how well do you know Russell?”

“Not that well, I’m afraid. I saw him often but never spoke to him, save for the last time he came to church alone. I sought him out directly that time. He was sick, you see.”

Tabasa remembered Dogma saying something along those lines before. “...Do you know what happened afterwards?”

“No,” said Dogma. “Why do you ask?”

“Um…” Tabasa wasn’t sure how to go about this. He decided to summarize. “He had to go to the emergency department. Some… bad stuff happened at home.”

Dogma looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, uh…” Tabasa rubbed the side of his hood, not knowing where to start now that the priest was pressing for details. “When you saw him, he was taking medicine for a bad cold… or something. But, basically, he took too much. He had a hole in his stomach. And then something… He saw something really bad at home, and um… it was messy.” Tabasa rubbed his hood again, remembering the scene. At times he kind of wished he could bleach the images from his brain. “He ended up bleeding. It was bad. He could’ve… um… well, you know.”

He looked back up, and found himself staring in Dogma’s wide eyes. The priest looked completely flabbergasted.

“Oh, but he’s okay now…!” quickly said Tabasa. “I’m looking after him, and there’s a doctor, and a therapist, it’s… he’s cared for. He’s okay.”

“Heavens,” murmured Dogma after a beat of shocked silence. “I had no idea. You say this happened on the same day I’d seen him?”

“...I think so.”

“Heavens,” repeated Dogma. “If I had known…”

“It isn’t your fault, Father.”

“There were signs. I could have– no, I should have called for help.”

Tabasa shook his head. “You aren’t the only one who could’ve done something before all of this happened. I talked to him more often than you did, and there were others who could have acted sooner too… but none of us did.” He sighed. “Well, it’s in the past… What matters is that he’s getting help now.”

Dogma was quiet for a while. Then, he slowly said: “You say that you are the one looking after him?”

“Oh, yeah… I’m his guardian now. His parents are… out of the picture.”

“I hadn’t realized you were related.”

“We’re not. I’m just a, uh… friend, I suppose. But, well, I’m the only adult who could take him in. So…”

Dogma stared at him. Then he said: “I truly had no clue.”

Tabasa didn’t know what to answer. Dogma seemed to notice his awkward air, and the priest reasserted himself, his hand coming up to thumb the cross at his neck.

“But, as you said, what matters is in the present. I will pray for Russell’s recovery.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Tabasa noticed that Russell had turned around and was walking towards him. The boy slowed down when he noticed Dogma standing there. Tabasa gestured Russell closer with a smile.

“Come here, buddy. How are the angels?”

Russell gave Dogma a cagey look, and then slowly started walking again, taking a careful detour around the priest in order to keep a wide enough berth. His expression was shut off, like he expected trouble.

“Hello, Russell,” said Dogma. “It’s nice to see you here. Do you like the market?”

Russell didn’t answer and stepped closer to Tabasa, who noticed that he had his notepad in his hand. Uh-oh. That meant something here had upset Russell.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tabasa.

Russell continued scrutinizing Dogma, and then took another step closer to Tabasa so that he was standing in his shadow. Only then did he lower his gaze to the notepad and start to write. Tabasa and Dogma watched him quietly, waiting. Russell finished scribbling and lifted the notepad for Tabasa to read.

Melody and her parents

“Oh,” said Tabasa, feeling suddenly apprehensive. “Okay… do you want to leave?”

“Is something wrong?” asked Dogma.

“Just some people we don’t really like to see,” Tabasa explained to him.

Russell finished writing and tugged on his sleeve. Tabasa looked down again.

We didn’t see Yumi

“No, that’s true…” Tabasa looked at him. “I don’t think she’ll mind, as long as I explain it to her later. We can always see her another time. The choice is up to you, Russell. I’ll follow.”

Russell thought about it. Then he wrote: let’s leave.

“Okay,” said Tabasa. He looked at Dogma. “It was nice talking to you, Father.”

Dogma’s attention seemed to be directed at Russell’s notepad, but he looked up when he heard Tabasa address him. He nodded with an understanding look on his face.

“Likewise. Tabasa, Russell. I wish you a good day.”

“Thank you, you too,” said Tabasa, already getting dragged away by the sleeve. He looked down and said: “Russ, come on, say good-bye.”

Russell reluctantly looked at Dogma and curtly dipped his head, and the priest kindly waved at him. They left the market’s central area. Russell’s steps faltered when they walked out from the passage between two cabins, and then he turned on his heels and dragged Tabasa towards the right. Tabasa glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, he caught sight of the little pest they were trying to avoid. Her parents were next to her, the mother studying a set of carved crosses while the father spoke intently with the vendor. Tabasa nearly laughed. Of course they were the type to buy a cross and display it in their saintly house.  

Russell had dragged him back into the streets in a matter of seconds, and they stood there on the salt-snow side of the road, catching their breath. Tabasa leaned back and rested against a wall. He was really out of shape these days.

“Well,” he panted, “you sure were in a hurry, huh.”

Russell still hadn’t let go of his sleeve. He didn’t speak. 

“...Are you okay?”

Russell looked at him. He looked down at his hand, gripping Tabasa’s sleeve. There was a strange look on his face for a brief moment, like some internal struggle, confusion. He let go of Tabasa’s coat to touch his arm instead, but all that followed was a weird, silent pause where it was unclear what Russell was thinking. Then, Russell slowly pulled his hand back and turned away to put his notepad in his pocket. He hadn’t answered. Tabasa supposed it meant that no, he wasn’t okay. 

He checked the time on his phone, and told Russell: “The library isn’t closed. Want to go borrow a book after all?”

Russell looked up at him. Strangely, the struggle was gone from his eyes, as if nothing had happened. He nodded.

Chapter Text

Yumi nursed her grape juice like she’d partied the whole night, which was a cause for concern. Tabasa had been staring at her for the past five minutes, in silence, where all she’d done was rub her forehead and sigh. The cafe’s ambient noise seemed to bother her.

“...Are you okay?” he asked.

She sighed again. “Tired. Didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Why?”

“I was feeling nervous.” Yumi took a sip of her glass, and it was quiet again for a little bit. She lowered it back to the table with a little clink. “How’s Russell?”

Tabasa understood that she didn’t want to talk more about herself, so he followed the change of subject. 

“He’s not… doing great.”

“Hm?”

“The last days have been difficult. He’s cagey, closed off… He won’t talk to me. I never even see his notepad,” said Tabasa, unable to hide the note of dejection in his voice. “I hope his therapist has more luck than me.”

Mister Ambrose hadn’t said anything in particular to Tabasa after the last session. It had been the usual debrief about allowing Russell his space to process his feelings. As much as Tabasa wanted to fret, he had to do so in his corner, and not hover over Russell to check on him every hour of the day. 

“Well,” started Yumi, her blue eyes looking off to the distance briefly as if gathering her thoughts, and then back at Tabasa, “I haven’t been doing too good either. It’s probably not a coincidence.”

“What is?”

“It’s been a year,” stated Yumi. 

It took Tabasa a moment, and then he realized: “Since the incident?”

“Yep.” She nodded, and fidgeted with her glass. “A year. Feels like it happened only yesterday, but it’s been way longer than that.”

“...I hadn’t realized,” said Tabasa. “Time goes by so fast.”

“Especially when ya spend so much of it looking after the kid, I bet,” Yumi observed. 

“You’ve got a point.”

“Anyhow, my shrink says it’s normal to feel worse around that time of a year. It’s like a bad anniversary. Can affect someone in lots of different ways.” She sighed. “Edward tells me my diction isn’t as good as usual. I’ve noticed, ya know, people ask me to repeat stuff more often. And it’s harder to walk in the mornin’, ‘cause I just feel so tired about it.” Yumi shrugged. “But, oh well. Recovery’s a bitch and I’ll get past this.”

“You’re tough,” said Tabasa.

Yumi smiled at him. “Sure am. So right, before I forget the point I was tryin’ to make, that’s what’s been goin’ on with me, and I’ve got a feeling it’s probably what’s goin’ on with Russ.” She raised an eyebrow. “His shrink ain’t sayin’ anything about that?”

“Um… Actually, now that I think about it… I’m not sure we ever told him the date that it happened,” slowly said Tabasa.

“Well ya might wanna,” said Yumi.

“...Yeah. You’re right, I should tell him. I’ll tell him next time.”

Yumi nodded, and rubbed her forehead again.

“Goddamn. Head’s killing me.”

“It’s noisy here. We can go back to your house if you want,” offered Tabasa. “I’ll drop you off.”

“Yeah… Thanks, Tabs. I think I’d like that. Sorry for cuttin’ this short.”

“No problem. Come on, let’s go.”

Russell had started waking up with scratches on his neck again. Tabasa resumed the habit of checking the boy’s neck in the morning and taking care of the scratches with the first aid kit. Tabasa tried to get Russell to tell him what he’d dreamed of, but Russell wouldn’t say. It didn’t really matter. Tabasa was fairly certain what it was about.

It was hard to see Russell closing in on himself all over again, but Tabasa had quickly understood that prying in these conditions only served to worsen his aloofness. Tabasa could only guess what was going on in the poor kid’s head. It saddened him that he couldn’t help more, but Mister Ambrose said it was enough to just be present; that it was enough to just remain Russell’s safe place, so that he knew that had a shelter to return to no matter what. So Tabasa did that. He continued to fetch Russell at school every day, and make him food, and do his laundry, and bring him grocery shopping, and suggest that they go on a walk together every weekend even if Russell had stopped saying yes. He continued staying up late until Russell was back home from his evening wandering so that he could tell him good night, even if Russell had stopped saying it to him in return. He continued telling Russell about the animals at the zoo despite knowing that Russell wouldn’t take part in the conversation anymore. 

Tabasa had noticed that Russell was staying out late more and more, and for longer periods. His worry reached its peak on Friday evening at midnight, which was two hours later than the longest time Russell had ever spent outside alone at night. The date coincided with the incident a year ago. After what Yumi had told him before about the bad anniversary, Tabasa had feared that something bad would happen today. 

Tabasa had called Wendy earlier at a quarter past ten, who’d been sorry to tell him that Russell wasn’t at home with Chris. Tabasa had called Yumi next, and she’d told him to give the kid a chance and wait until the “double O’s” to do anything. Tabasa didn’t want to think of the worst while he waited, but the worst came to his mind anyway. Anything could’ve happened As soon as the clock reached midnight, he scrambled for his phone and called Yumi again.

“Still no sign of him?” she guessed when she picked up.

“No… I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where he could be…!”

“Well, I reckon this is when we start looking for him in the streets. I’ll call Edward.” He heard her shuffling on the other side of the line. “Maybe ya could try calling Wendy and see if her kid has an idea where Russell could’ve gone.”

“But it’s late…”

“Just try it, Tabs. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind. The lady’s sweet as pie, and she knows what it’s like to worry for a little rascal.”

“...Okay. I’ll try.”

“Keep me posted, and I’ll do the same.”

Yumi hung up. Tabasa hurried to call Wendy. Surprisingly enough, she picked up almost immediately; and just like Yumi had said, she agreed right away with waking Chris to ask him about Russell’s possible whereabouts.

“I’m sorry,” apologized Tabasa. “I didn’t want to disturb, but…”

“Of course, Tabasa. No harm done. We all want Russell to be alright. Hold on a minute, please, while I go to wake up Chris.”

“Okay, thank you…”

Tabasa listened to footsteps, a door creaking open, a murmured exchange of words. 

“Hello?” came Chris’ sleepy voice through the speaker.

“Hi Chris… Sorry to wake you up,” said Tabasa, feeling bad to have dragged the kid out of bed. “It’s about Russell… I just have one question and then I’ll leave you alone. Do you know which spots he’d be likely to hang out at in the middle of the night?”

Chris’ voice cleared up, sounding more lucid. “Wait, what? Russell’s not with you?”

“Um, no. He hasn’t come back yet…”

“Shoot,” said Chris. “He said he was going back home. Does that mean something happened?”

“We don’t know,” quickly said Tabasa. “The police is already looking for him to bring him back, but… I think it would help if you could tell me the places where we’d have the best chance to find him in.”

“Sure, sure, yeah,” said Chris, rustling in his bed. “Uh, definitely the puddle apartments first.”

“The puddle apartments?”

“Yeah, you know, the… Y’know what, I’ll just go there myself.”

“Chris, no, it’s late,” said Wendy’s muffled voice.

“Who cares?” replied Chris. “Mom, Russell’s been acting weird, I told you. We gotta find’im.”

“Wait for me,” said Tabasa. “I’m coming with you. I need to know where this is.”

“Okay, but hurry it up.” Chris’ voice moved away. “I’m not going alone, Mom, but I’m still going. Tabasa’s gonna drive me there.”

“Oh, Chris… Give me the phone.” Wendy’s voice rang clearer in the call. “Tabasa?”

“Yeah.”

She sounded resigned. “I’m letting you pick up my bull-headed son, but be back before one.”

“Promise, Wendy.”

“...I hope you find Russell,” she quietly added.

“We will,” promised Tabasa. “Chris knows him best.”

The puddle apartments turned out to be not so far away from Chris and Wendy’s home. It was dark and gloomy, the buildings desolate in the moonlight. Dread gripped Tabasa’s heart when he noticed the gleam of waves from afar. They were close to the docks.

“Does he come out here often?” asked Tabasa.

“Yeah. I think it’s because of the waves,” said Chris, and he got out of the car before Tabasa could ask anything else.

The doors slammed loudly in the night. Tabasa joined up with Chris, who looked around, then turned to face him.

“We should split up.”

“No,” instantly said Tabasa. “No way. Wendy would kill me if she knew…”

“We don’t gotta tell my mom,” said Chris annoyedly.

“No,” repeated Tabasa. “Let’s look for him together.”

“Fine,” muttered Chris, and he started walking ahead.

They followed the docks. It was hard to make out what lay in the shadows, and Tabasa felt uneasy to find half-conscious people on the ground. This place was a dump. Did Russell really feel reassured to come here? The flashlight of his phone swept the ground, unveiling broken shards of glass here and there, lost pills, trash. Tabasa had tried not to say anything about how Russell chose to spend his evenings with Chris or when he was alone, but this was just… dangerous. He couldn’t fathom why Russell would willingly choose to spend time in this kind of neighborhood instead of the one closer to their home. Tabasa shivered in the cold winter breeze. He couldn’t wait to find Russell, and for all of them to return to the warmth and safety of their homes.

“Over there,” said Chris in a low voice, pointing towards the edge and the inky surface beyond.

Tabasa followed him. They stopped next to a mooring post looped in thick coils of rope. Chris looked around with his own phone light.

“This is the place.”

Tabasa did the same, but found no trace of Russell.

“...He’s not here,” he said. “Now what?”

Chris frowned in the white light of Tabasa’s phone.

“This was my best guess. Russ just walks in the streets the rest of the time. Though, maybe…” Chris paused to think. Then, he slowly mused: “There was that shop.”

“What shop?”

Chris looked up at Tabasa. “He didn’ talk to me much about that, but I know he used to see some guy in the eastern part of town. Guy died, though, so… I dunno.”

“Kantera,” said Tabasa, remembering the story Russell had told him about the doctor. “Well… It might be worth a try.”

“Better than nothin’, right?” said Chris.

Tabasa nodded. “Let’s go.”

Chris guided him across town until they reached the front of the small, shabby shop. A very few red lilies were still there, withered and strewn across the street. Someone had painted graffiti over the door, beyond which hung the painting of a strange-looking dragon. 

“Huh,” said Chris. “Guess it’s abandoned. I mean, I wouldn’t wanna work in a place where someone died either, to be honest.”

Tabasa shone his light inside. “There’s no one inside.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Russ would break in. We should look around.”

They walked along the wall and stepped in the narrow passage between the shop and the house next to it. The beam of light from Tabasa’s phone fell on a huddled shape at the end of the blind alley. His heart skipped a beat, as he hadn’t expected to actually find anything here, but then he recognized the blonde head of hair. Chris rushed past him.

“Russell!”

Chris knelt down to the other boy and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Russ, hey, you okay?”

Russell raised his head and looked at Chris. His back was turned, so Tabasa didn’t see the expression on his face. Russell’s legs stayed tightly bunched up against his chest, arms wrapped around his knees.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

Russell said nothing and lowered his head in his arms again.

“Hey, answer me. You scared us, man! What were you thinking? You said you were goin’ home!” Chris exclaimed, sounding a bit cross.

Tabasa stepped forward. “Chris, calm down. We found him, that’s what matters.”

Chris looked up at him crossly.

“This ain’t okay! It’s askin’ for trouble, comin’ all the way out here alone in the middle of the night, and he knows that.” He looked back down at Russell and shook his shoulder. “Look at me, Russ! Why’d you lie to me earlier?”

Tabasa kneeled next to the boys and guided Chris’ arm away from Russell’s shoulder.

“Come on, stop it… I’m sure he’ll explain himself later. This isn’t the time for that, both of you need to get back home and in bed. Okay?”

Chris stared at him in disbelief. “You’re just gonna let him get away with it?”

Tabasa was confused why this was such a big deal to Chris when he’d been the first one to push for letting Russell roam around freely at night. Then again, he and Russell didn’t usually stay out this late. And beyond that, he seemed to find a bigger issue in the fact that Russell had lied to him than in anything else. Chris had obviously gotten scared that something bad had happened to Russell, just like Tabasa; and he’d been the last one to see his friend, which must have made things even worse. The behavior he was displaying was probably just the stress crashing back down.

“No,” said Tabasa. “Of course not. I’ll want an explanation… But right now, none of us are in any state to have a meaningful conversation about all of this.”

Chris shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, and he muttered: “Fuck me.”

Tabasa chose not to comment on his language. Instead, he reached out to Russell in turn.

“Hey buddy. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Russell didn’t react. Tabasa decided to help him up, so he put away his phone and carefully slipped a hand under Russell’s arm. 

“Come on.”

Russell’s head snapped up, his eyes glinting in the light of Chris’ phone, and he brutally shoved Tabasa away with both arms. It took Tabasa by surprise. He stumbled into the wall, and a pained sound escaped him when his shoulder struck the hard surface.

“Woah, hey!” Chris jumped up between them. “What the hell, Russ?”

Russell curled up on himself even tighter, his expression completely closed off. He buried his head in his arms again. Tabasa steadied himself next to the wall, his heart thudding away in his chest. His gaze darted around the place despite himself, searching for something long and heavy and metallic. There was nothing but dirt and small rocks. He’d thought, for an instant, that Russell had wanted to harm him like he once had back at the zoo. But that was the past, this was the present. He breathed in deeply to calm himself down. It was ridiculous to still think that Russell would try to harm him. The kid was doing so much better than before, he wasn’t the same as he’d been when they’d first met. He wouldn’t resort to the same violence.

Tabasa couldn’t tell what was happening in Russell’s head at all. Russell didn’t seem scared, he wasn’t behaving like when he was panicking; but he obviously wasn’t happy to see them, either. It was like he just wanted to be left alone. Chris seemed troubled, and he was glancing up and down between Russell and Tabasa as if expecting someone to take control of the situation. Right. Tabasa was the adult here, after all.

Quietly, Tabasa said: “Russell, please. You can’t stay out here, and we’re not going to leave until you come with us.”

 Chris shot him a look, and then turned his head back to Russell.

“Yeah, and go easy on Tabasa, man. He’s just lookin’ out for you. Not cool, shovin’ him like that.”

Tabasa didn’t disagree. They stared at Russell, who didn’t move.

“Well, I’m going to call Yumi and tell her we found you. She was worried too… She’ll be glad to know you’re safe.”

Tabasa took his phone back out and turned around to make the call. Chris stayed where he was.

“Found him?” asked Yumi when she picked up.

“Yeah. He went to an abandoned shop in the east.”

There was a pause.

“The japanese shop?”

“Um… Well, there’s a dragon painting, but I don’t know if it’s japanese…”

“Okay. Do you know about Ryuuzen?”

“Ryu-what?”

“Russell knew a guy who worked there, called Ryuuzen, worked as some kind of herbalist. He died of suicide last year.”

“Oh, yeah… Kantera?”

“Right, that’s what he called him. I guess you already knew then.”

“Part of the story, and only Russell’s version…” Tabasa glanced over his shoulder, then whispered into the phone. “He says that the guy asked him to kill him. With a knife.”

“Dang.”

“...He didn’t tell you that part?”

“Can’t say he did. Well, given the man offed himself… It does sound crazy, but not impossible. Guy had issues. Anyhow, are you headed back home?”

“Ah… That’s the problem. Russell doesn’t want to come. He pushed me away, and I don’t want to force him… I’m not sure what to do,” helplessly said Tabasa.

“Y’all stay right where you are. Edward and I will handle this.”

“Okay. We’ll wait for you.”

Tabasa hung up and returned to Chris' side. The boy glanced up at him.

“Your shoulder okay?”

Tabasa rolled it around a bit. It ached, but nothing he wasn’t used to with all the bumps and scratches he got at work. He was just cold, mostly.

“It’s fine… Don’t worry.”

He looked at Russell next.

“Russell, Yumi is going to come over. I told you, you can’t stay here… We really have to go home. And I have to drop Chris off at his house, first, before 1A.M… or Wendy’s going to be very mad at me. So it would be really nice if you agreed to get in the car with us.”

Russell still didn’t react. Tabasa ended up deciding that they couldn’t just keep standing around until Yumi got here, and he ushered Chris back into the car before the kid caught a cold. Tabasa went to the trunk and pulled out the spare blanket he always kept back there in case he found any willing strays to bring back home, and he returned to Russell’s side. He carefully laid the blanket over the boy’s shoulders, watching out for any sudden movements, but Russell didn’t push him again. 

“Come with me,” Tabasa tried again. “It’s warmer in the car, you know.”

It didn’t work. Tabasa reluctantly stood back up and went to join Chris so they could both warm up. It didn’t take long for Edward’s police car to show up after that, and Tabasa showed the two officers where Russell was hidden. He watched Yumi come close.

“C’mon, Seager boy. Ya know how this goes. Let’s get ya home.”

She took him by the hand and pulled him up. Russell resisted at first, but then Edward joined in and did the same with his other hand, and he had no choice but to get lifted off the ground. Russell didn’t try to shove either of them away, which Tabasa found a little unfair. 

“Off you go,” said Yumi, marching him out of the alley herself. 

Edward trailed behind, keeping a watchful gaze on the two of them. Tabasa noticed that he kept his hand sort of outstretched behind Yumi, and he realized that Edward was probably watching out for an eventual stumble. He wondered if the young officer had had to catch Yumi before. Realizing that didn’t feel… good. Yumi probably hid a lot from Tabasa about how things truly went at work when she had to do more physical things. But they talked about plenty other matters, so maybe it wasn’t that important that she chose to omit this side of her life when they took the time to hang out.

Russell climbed in the back of Tabasa’s car without a word. In front of the headlights, Tabasa thanked Yumi and Edward for their help. She slapped her fellow officer on the shoulder.

“He’s the one you can thank, he had the car up and running seconds after I asked.”

“I was having a boring night shift,” said Edward with a little smile. Then he said more seriously: “You did the right thing asking for our help, Tabasa.”

“That you did.” Yumi gestured with her chin towards the boys in the backseat. “He’s clammed up real tight, ain’t he?”

“...Yeah,” said Tabasa.

“Ya weren’t kiddin’.”

“No.”

“He’s probably gonna pull this kind of thing again before the month is over,” Yumi told him. “When are you gettin’ him a phone?”

“He doesn’t want one… I’ve tried, it just doesn’t stick.”

“Well, ya might want t’find a way for it to stick.” Yumi reached up and gently knocked a knuckle on Tabasa’s forehead. “Or yer gonna end up in an early grave from all the stress.”

Tabasa moved her arm away, sighing. “I know, I know… I’ll try talking to him about it again.”

“You do that.” Yumi looked at Edward. “Well, let’s not keep ya. Care to drop me off?”

“Of course, Yumi.”

“Thanks.” She waved at Tabasa. “Well, see ya ‘round.”

“Yeah, see you.” Tabasa nodded at Edward. “Thanks again.”

“Not a problem. Have a nice night.”

Chapter Text

Russell didn’t know what was wrong with him, exactly, but it was bad. He felt scared all the time, and when he wasn’t scared, he was angry. It was hard to control. He wanted to be left alone, but that couldn’t be the case. He’d tried. There was always someone there to find him. Russell knew all the bad things that had happened were in the past, but he couldn’t stop thinking about them. He couldn’t stop thinking that someone else would get hurt again, like Tabasa, or Yumi, or Chris. He couldn’t stop feeling like he’d get hurt too, somewhere, somehow. 

The pills weren’t working like before. Kantera lingered more often in his memories, and Russell would think of the red spider lilies, and the quiet bell chime, and the smell of ashes. Of dying. He wondered how quiet and peaceful the world was for Kantera now that he was dead. He wondered if death was the only way to feel like that for good; quiet inside, and at peace.

Russell knew that Tabasa was worried. He knew that Tabasa wished that he’d talk to him more. It was the same with Mister Ambrose. But Russell was tired of talking of all these heavy things inside of him, because they ached, and they stung, and he just wanted to let them lie at the bottom of him like silt. So he didn’t talk about them anymore. He didn’t let Tabasa or Mister Ambrose look inside of him. He didn’t let Tabasa or Mister Ambrose convince him that it would be better that way. He just wanted to be left alone. 

Unfortunately, it was impossible to shake off either of the men. Chris, either.

“We gotta talk about yesterday,” Chris said to Russell the next day, at school.

Russell glanced up at the teacher, whose back was turned. Everyone else was talking to each other in her back with more or less discretion. She never managed to truly get the class to quiet down. Russell looked back down at Chris. He didn’t especially want to do what his friend was suggesting, but the other boy’s brown eyes were full of determination.

Russell knew what he’d done wrong. Chris had very clearly expressed it last night. He apologized for lying to him.

“Don’t pull that shit again, man. What if somethin’ had happened to you? Did you even think of that? I would’ve…” Chris shook his head. “I don’t even know what I would’ve done. But that sucked, Russ. Really uncool.”

Russell didn’t really know what to say. He’d apologized. He didn’t see what else he could do.

“What were you even doin’ there on your own?”

Russell shrugged. 

“Okay, whatever. Did you apologize to Tabasa too, at least?”

No, he hadn’t. 

“Why the hell not? You pushed him, and for no reason!”

Russell looked away. He’d only wanted some space, and it was Tabasa’s fault for grabbing him. He shouldn’t have grabbed him. 

“Yeah, well the police officers did the same thing, and you didn’t do it to them. And who cares, anyway? You hurt Tabasa and he wasn’t even doing anything wrong. That’s the issue, Russ.”

Russell crossed his arms close to his chest. He hadn’t done it on purpose. He hadn’t realized that Tabasa would lose his balance so easily. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him. And besides, Tabasa hadn’t complained about any pain, and he hadn’t said he was scared. So that meant Tabasa was okay and Russell hadn’t really harmed him.

Chris shook his head. “You should still apologize, cause it wasn’t fair to him.”

Russell frowned at his desk. He didn’t want to listen. He hadn’t really hurt Tabasa. He didn’t have to apologize for something he hadn’t done. Tabasa had just told him to stop coming home so late, and he hadn’t made a single reproach about what Russell had done in the small alley. So it meant that he didn’t mind that Russell had pushed him. So Russell hadn’t hurt him or scared him, and it was fine.

“Russell, are you listening to me?” Chris insisted, sounding annoyed.

Suddenly, a loud sound made Russel jump in his seat. The teacher had spun around and smacked her piece of cray on the blackboard.

“Chris,” she called, her tone of voice severe. “Enough chit-chatting.”

Chris exclaimed: “What? Everybody’s doin’ it!”

“And don’t you talk back to me,” snapped the teacher.

A group of girls whispered excitedly at the back. Russell glanced behind him and saw it was Melody and her group.

“I’m not talkin' back!” 

“That’s enough. Go stand in the hallway, right now.”

Chris grumbled something under his breath as he stood, moodily slapping his textbook shut and dragging the chair across the floor.

“Be quiet, young man, or it’s another detention.”

Chris rolled his eyes as he turned around to head for the door.

Melody gasped. “Teacher, he just rolled his eyes!”

Chris glared at her. 

The teacher curtly said: “I didn’t ask, Melody. Chris, stop dragging your feet and get out of my class.”

They all watched Chris step outside and slam the door behind him. Next to Russell, Gardenia whispered: “Chris wasn’t that rude.”

Russell shrugged.

“I don’t think that was fair. It’s true, everybody talks during her lessons.”

Russell picked his pen back up and started writing.

“What were you two talking about, anyway? I couldn’t hear anything.”

Russell said it was nothing important.

“...Okay,” said Gardenia. Her tone of voice had changed, and she turned away from Russell. He looked at her, but she didn’t say anything else, so he went back to copying what the teacher was writing on the board.

Russell also had his fair share of trips in the hallway and detentions, and the numbers had gone up lately. The teachers didn’t like that he ignored them when they asked him a direct question, and because he’d gotten quieter, it happened more often. They said he was being disrespectful. And the longer he stared at them without saying anything, the more agitated they became. A few of the adults even had a weird look in their eyes when he did that. It took Russell a while to figure out why, but he eventually realized that his behavior made them uneasy. Everyone knew what had happened in his house last year. Everyone knew he’d had a role in it. 

Some were scared of him because of this, but most of the others who talked about him within earshot called him a freak. They talked about his back too, sometimes, just like in Copperfield. He knew it was probably Melody’s group who’d started all the rumors. For a while, Russell had dealt with that background noise the same as always; ignoring the looks, skipping school with Chris, pushing aside the jeers and comments like he’d done all his life. But it had gotten more complicated over the last few weeks, now that his mind was incessantly troubled by what he’d seen and done a year ago. 

It made him feel anxious. It made the words stay stuck inside of him. And because his attitude had become even stranger, the rumors had returned in a wave louder than before. He’d heard them say things like, he’s going to snap one day and stab the teacher . It scared him, not because they thought that of him, but because he could very well see himself attacking someone exactly like that. He’d done it before. It could happen again. He had pushed Tabasa only yesterday.

But not on purpose.

Tabasa isn’t hurt.

There’s nothing to apologize for.

When the day was over, Russell waited for Tabasa to pick him up. He thought it was better not to scare him again by coming home late after everything that had happened yesterday. Tabasa looked happy to see him waiting for him in front of the school. Russell didn’t know why he felt so on edge during the trip back in the car, and the whole evening that followed. He just didn’t feel safe within the four walls of their home. He didn’t know what it was, but something was wrong. 

He felt bad every time he looked at Tabasa, like dirty pieces scraped off the inside of his chest and falling in his gut. Tabasa tried to make conversation, but Russell didn’t speak. He didn’t say a single word. It was all trapped inside of him. He didn’t know why he was acting this way with Tabasa when he’d been fine talking to Chris and Gardenia all day. Russell was quiet all the way until bed, and he hid himself under the covers, feeling deeply uneasy.

Kantera stood in front of him, holding out the knife. He wanted Russell to stab him, but Russell didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to stab anyone. He was suddenly angry, so angry at Kantera. Russell screamed. He grabbed the knife. He didn’t aim for the heart or the throat like Kantera would have wanted. Instead, the blade cut through Kantera’s leg like butter. Blood seeped through Kantera’s clothes. The stain grew, and grew, turning his beautiful green coat into a new, dark crimson color. Russell was so angry. So angry. It wasn’t fair. He could smell something burning, hear it snap, and crackle loudly in his ears. He screamed, and screamed.

A flash of light suddenly cut through his nightmare, and Russell’s eyes flew open. A dark shadow appeared over his bed. Russell scrambled over his bedsheets to escape it, and he felt a hand on his shoulder, holding him there. His arm flailed out, his elbow hitting something hard. He heard a yelp next to him.

“Ouch!”

The hand let go, and Russell threw himself on the other side of the bed. He turned around and stared wide-eyed at the man on the mattress. Suddenly, his mind slotted into place, and he recognized Tabasa. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” moaned Tabasa, holding the side of his face. His visible eye was squinting and it looked wet. When he noticed Russell staring, he held up a hand. “Sorry, sorry, I deserved that for grabbing you.”

Russell realized that he’d hit Tabasa in the eye with his elbow. It really looked like it hurt. He hadn’t meant to, but… Russell reached out, but then snatched his hand back. He didn’t want to hurt Tabasa. The word sorry pressed up against the back of his throat, but he couldn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” said Tabasa when he saw the look on Russell’s face. “You didn’t mean it. You got scared… I know.”

Russell shook his head. He was sorry. And he was sorry that he hadn’t apologized for last night, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt Tabasa, he hadn’t wanted it to be real that he’d hurt him, it wasn’t supposed to happen, not anymore. He shook his head again and again, unable to voice the frantic thoughts swirling around in his head, unable to apologize.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” quickly said Tabasa. 

But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t okay at all. Russell had hurt Tabasa. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He was so sorry. 

“Oh, Russell, don’t cry, look…” Tabasa leaned closer, but then seemed to think better of it. “I won’t hug you because I know you don’t like that, but that’s what I wish I could do right now. I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to be sad… It’s because of me that you got scared just now. Remember what Mister Ambrose said? You get scared, and then angry, and then you lash out… That’s all. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

Russell shook his head again. So what? What did it matter if he hadn’t done it on purpose? Tabasa was still hurt. He wanted to speak. He could only close his eyes, powerless and frustrated.

“I know I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I’ve always known… It was a bad move on my part. I just… I heard you scream, and you hadn’t done that in so long that I thought…” He sighed. “I don’t… really know what I thought. It’s not like I could pick you out of your nightmare just like that.”

Russell felt tears trickle down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away. He wished he could take back what he’d done. Tabasa’s eye was red. It must’ve hurt. Russell hoped that Tabasa wasn’t scared of him. Russell was always afraid of doing something that would make Tabasa scared of him again. It suddenly felt dreadfully important to know, and Russell looked around for his notepad. When he didn’t find it on his bedside table, he tumbled out of his bed and rushed to the door.

“Russell…?”

Russell hurried in the living room to find it. Thankfully, it was never far. He quickly wrote on the blank sheet of paper and heard Tabasa join him just as he was done writing the sentence.

Are you scared of me?

Tabasa quickly shook his head when he read it. “Oh no, no, I’m not… Don’t worry about that. It was an accident, Russ.”

He sounded truthful. Suddenly relieved, Russell let his arms fall back at his sides. Tabasa came closer to sit on the couch next to him.

“I think we might want to talk about these nightmares with Mister Ambrose again... This must mean something. That you’re shouting in your sleep again, I mean. And maybe we should ask Doctor Trace if you need to see another psychiatrist for the medicine, because– hm..?”

Tabasa cut off when Russell lifted the notepad to his face.

I’m sorry for today and yesterday

Something on Tabasa’s face shifted when he read the new sentence. It looked like a good thing, because his gaze was less troubled when he looked at Russell.

“That’s… um, well, thank you.” He smiled. “I forgive you. So… don’t worry.”

Russell was reassured to see him smile, but that was also the moment he noticed that Tabasa looked tired even when he smiled. He always looked so tired lately. Russell wrote again.

I’m sorry for waking you up

“That’s okay, buddy… I got woken up by something else before you screamed, anyway. No harm done.”

Russell wondered what that could be.

“Come on, let’s get back to bed,” said Tabasa before he could write again. “We should try to be in shape for the session with Mister Ambrose tomorrow. Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

Russell nodded, and they went back to the bedroom together.

Progress during one of Mister Ambrose’s sessions was slow-going when Russell’s words were stuck. Instead of talking, Mister Ambrose encouraged him to draw, even if Russell hadn’t touched the markers again since the red rabbit. And when Russell refused, like every other time, then Mister Ambrose would just ask him easy questions that he could answer by one-word answers on a piece of paper. They were questions about his sleep, and what he ate, and what he did at school. It helped, it unlocked more words on the paper, sentences. Russell told him about the nightmares. He told him about the rumors at school. Finally, he admitted that he’d been bad.

“Bad?” said Mister Ambrose. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by that, Russell.”

Russell wrote: I hurt Tabasa.

“I see. Why?”

Wanted to be alone.
Scared by nightmare.

“Did you do it because you wanted to hurt him?”

No.

“Was he scared?”

No.

“Did you apologize?”

Yes.

“And did he forgive you?”

Yes.

“So, then, this sounds like both times were an accident. You had the correct reaction by showing him that you regretted your actions. Why do you think you were bad?”

Russell shrugged. He didn’t understand why Mister Ambrose didn’t agree that he’d done a bad thing. It felt terrible to know that he’d harmed Tabasa. He liked Tabasa. He trusted Tabasa. Tabasa was always there for him. The fact that Russell had hurt him twice in the space of a few days, and Tabasa hadn’t been resentful at all, felt… unfair. Like Chris had said.

Unfair.

“When something is unfair, there is a perpetrator, and there is a victim. Which one do you identify as?”

That was an easy question. Perpetrator.

“And who is the victim?”

Tabasa.

“So you believe that your actions have been unfair to Tabasa.”

Russell nodded.

Kindly, Mister Ambrose said: “Please write your answer, Russell. Just like if we were having a spoken conversation.”

This was something the therapist never forgot. Mister Ambrose said that Russell was used to non-verbal means of communication because they were quiet. He said it was probably a habit he’d picked up because it allowed him to stay hidden. Mister Ambrose believed that Russell needed to get used to being less quiet, because speaking out was a useful skill in everyday life. So Russell wrote down his answer.

Yes.

“Have you told him?”

Russell hesitated. 

No.

“Alright. And why do you think your actions are unfair?”

Tabasa is nice.

“Too nice to be hurt?” guessed Mister Ambrose.

Yes.

“Russell, people get hurt all the time, no matter if they are nice or not, no matter if they are deserving of it or not. Sometimes, they can’t help that they are in a situation where they get hurt. But other times, they are in control. They choose to be in a situation where they know that the risk exists. Can you guess why?”

Russell had no clue. He just stared at the therapist. 

Mister Ambrose gestured at the notepad.

Russell looked down and wrote: No.

“People make choices depending on a personal scale which weighs the good things and the bad things. If a person chooses to be in a position where they can get hurt, they have a reasoning for it. In the situation you described to me, you make it sound like Tabasa suffered because he happened to be in your vicinity when you felt distress. The way I see it, Tabasa chose to be there in those moments. And he knew the kind of reactions you could have, but that didn’t scare him.”

Russell felt confused.

Why?

“Well, I imagine it’s because he cares for you more than he’s worried about getting hurt. On his personal scale, your well-being is more important.” Mister Ambrose’s voice changed into one of gentle warning. “But, as you’ve identified yourself, it isn’t a good thing for him to be on the receiving end of your violent reactions. That is why we need to work on your coping mechanisms. It’s important that you find a better target in those moments other than Tabasa.”

It doesn’t work.

“Yes, I know that you can’t easily extract yourself from upsetting situations. I’ve done some thinking since the last time we spoke about this issue. I think that, given the solution you found with Doctor Cardinal for coping with panic seems to function rather well, perhaps we could try the same thing for your anger, and for the latent fear that you feel so much of lately. You could try to find a sentence that you could focus on in those moments, one that could help you take a step back from the trigger, mentally. Do you think that could work?”

Maybe.

“Then that’ll be your homework for next time.” Mister Ambrose checked his watch. “We have a few minutes left. Do you want to keep going, or should we get Tabasa right away?”

Russell put down his pencil and got up. He went to fetch Tabasa in Mister Ambrose’s stead– it was something they’d discovered earlier, that he preferred being the one to get Tabasa instead of waiting alone in the office. When he reached the waiting room, he saw that Tabasa was leaning back in his chair with his head against the wall and his eyes closed. He had his hood on. Tabasa rarely went without it anymore, even in warm places. Sometimes even in the apartment. Russell approached him when it looked like Tabasa hadn’t noticed his arrival. He poked the man’s shoulder. Tabasa jumped, his eyes snapping wide, and then he saw Russell next to him. His surprised expression turned sheepish.

“Oh, Russell… I was just, uh… um, resting my eyes.”

Russell didn’t believe him, but he understood that Tabasa was embarrassed that he’d been caught napping in Mister Ambrose’s waiting room. He tugged on his sleeve.

“Yep, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Tabasa got up and followed him back to the office. They sat down, and Mister Ambrose faced Tabasa.

“We spoke about Russell’s violent episodes, and agreed that there is a need for a different coping mechanism than lashing out at you when he is experiencing distress.”

“Well, it didn’t hurt that bad, really,” said Tabasa. “I don’t want you to think it was worse than it actually was.”

“I understand, but this kind of behavior shouldn’t be enabled. While Russell’s most trusted person is often witness to strong emotions, given that you are the safest place to express them, it isn’t a sustainable dynamic in the long term.” Mister Ambrose gestured to Tabasa’s face. “You have a black eye. Perhaps you feel okay with that, but not everyone is like that. Russell will learn to trust more people as he progresses. He needs to find a coping mechanism that is suited to different relationships, not just yours.”

“Oh,” said Tabasa. “Yeah… that makes sense.”

“Not to mention, Russell feels guilty for hurting you. It can become an obstacle to recovery if a coping mechanism is a source of additional distress.”

“Right,” said Tabasa. “Of course… That makes sense too.”

It reassured Russell that Tabasa clearly hadn’t thought about any of this either. They were both learning things with Mister Ambrose.

“Mister Ambrose,” said Tabasa, “did you talk about all the things that are coming back? Like, the nightmares… and the fact that he stays out so late, all of that?”

“We did. Likely not as extensively as we could have, but we did. Russell confirmed that he often thinks about what happened with his parents and all the people he believes that he’s harmed. There is very probably a link between these memories and the way he acts currently.”

“Um, yes. Our friend, Yumi– the police officer that was in the house when the incident happened… She told me about this time of year feeling like a ‘bad anniversary’. She thinks Russell is acting like this because it happened exactly a year ago, give or take a few days.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” agreed Mister Ambrose. “It’s good that you could identify it.”

“Oh, well, Yumi did,” said Tabasa.

“You are the one who brought it to my attention.” Mister Ambrose looked at Russell. “Even if there is an increase in these painful signs that something is wrong, it doesn’t mean that it’ll last. It’s normal for a lot of people to fear the recurrence of a traumatizing situation on the same date. You’ll get better, Russell. It just takes time.”

Russell looked away. He didn’t really want to say what he thought about that.

Tabasa said: “I was thinking of asking Doctor Trace if we should adapt the medicine to Russell’s increase in symptoms.”

“I think that would be a good idea, yes, if the doctor agrees. Even if it’s only temporary, it can help to ride out the swell caused by the bad anniversary you mentioned.”

“Alright.”

“Before we end today’s session”, said Mister Ambrose, “there is one thing I believe we should discuss together.”

“What is it?”

“Russell’s nightly wandering. I don’t think it should completely stop, but I do believe it is necessary for you to have a way to contact each other from a distance. Namely, a phone. It would prevent another incident like the one Russell described to me, when you were all looking for him at midnight.”

“...Right.” Tabasa looked at Russell. “Did you change your mind?”

Russell stared at Mister Ambrose.

“I understand that it makes you anxious to be given expensive things that can be easily lost or broken,” said the therapist. “But, for your own safety– and Tabasa’s peace of mind– it’s essential that you accept to deal with the anxiety which surrounds the possession of a phone. You tend to put yourself in situations that become particularly dangerous as a result of your voluntary isolation. Tabasa is your guardian, so he should be allowed to know where you are without having to resort to the police or a search through the neighborhood. Situations like that are very stressful for people who care about you.”

Russell glanced at Tabasa, who nodded. He looked down at his lap. It made sense. And while having Tabasa buy him an expensive phone made Russell uneasy, he wanted even less to cause him trouble that could’ve been avoided this whole time. So he nodded too.

Chapter Text

Russell stared at the rows upon rows of screens and electronic gadgets with something approaching unease. He didn’t like being here. It was the first time he’d put a foot inside such an expensive-looking shop. Russell didn’t want to knock one of these objects to the ground by accident and break it, and he stuck close to Tabasa, who looked like he knew what he was doing. The vendor behind the counter nodded and explained to Tabasa what their offers were, and which models would be best suited to his demands. He was saying a bunch of words that Russell didn’t really understand. It was boring. Tabasa seemed to understand, though, and he followed the vendor towards the side of the shop. Russell noticed that the rows they stopped in front of were the less expensive phones.

“This one is good,” said the vendor, loosely picking up one of the phones and flipping it in his hand. “Cheap model given its specs, pretty intuitive, kids like the color.” 

It was a blue-green hue, and reflected the lights with a clean sheen. Russell supposed he didn’t dislike the color. Tabasa checked the price tag and hesitated. 

“...You said there were discounted phones?”

“Oh, sure.” The vendor put the phone back down and guided them further into the shop. “They’re used, older models, though. We check them, obviously. They work fine. It’s just that they might have a shorter lifespan compared to new ones.” 

“But they’re much cheaper… right?”

“Um, well, sure, they’re cheaper.” The vendor stopped next to another shelf and gestured widely across it. “Here you go.”

Tabasa leaned over and scrutinized the models lined up beneath him. Russell glanced at the prices. These were cheaper, yes, but not hugely so. Tabasa looked down at Russell.

“Do you see one you like?”

Russell didn’t really care what his phone would look like. He almost shrugged, but then decided to point at the least expensive phone. 

“This one? Are you sure…? I don’t mind if you pick another.”

Russell said no. That one.

“Okay then,” said Tabasa, and he turned to the vendor. 

The latter said: “You’ve made your choice?”

“Yes. The one he pointed at, please… Thanks.”

*

For some reason, Chris looked overjoyed to see Russell pull out his new phone during recess. His eyes widened at the sight of the black brick, and a big gleeful smile appeared on his face.

“Woah! Sick, you got a phone!” he exclaimed. 

Gardenia curiously looked up at Russell, then at Chris. “Why is it such a big deal?”

“It’s his first,” Chris explained to her. “Now we can finally text him and stuff.”

“Oh," said Gardenia, surprised. "How come he only got one now?”

“His parents were real cheapskates. The worst.”

“Well, this whole time, I just thought you were anti-phone or something,” Gardenia told Russell. 

Chris frowned at her, confused. “Huh? Who’d be anti-phone? That don’t make any sense. It’s like, the most useful thing ever.”

“My mom has a friend like that. She’s really strict about letting her kids use screens and all. Like, zero use. Mom thinks it’s kind of stupid because then that means the kids never know what’s going on. But don’t tell her that I told you,” she quickly added.

“Nah, don’t worry.” Chris turned to Russell and pulled out his own phone. “Hey, gimme your number.”

“Oh, me too!” exclaimed Gardenia. “We should all exchange our phone numbers. In fact, why didn’t we do it earlier, Chris?”

Chris stared at her with round eyes.

“Oh, uh… I uh… I didn’ think you’d…”

Gardenia cocked her head, waiting for the rest of his sentence with expectant, clear blue eyes.

“Uh…” Chris’ cheeks were getting a bit pink. “My bad. I guess I jus’ didn’t think of it.”

“Well, go on, tell me,” cheerily said Gardenia. “Better late than never!”

They exchanged their numbers one by one, and then it was time to go back to class. Chris looked happy. Russell was glad that Tabasa paying for the new phone had at least resulted in this one good thing, because it felt like a small compensation for the money spent. He’d tell him about it in the evening. Maybe Tabasa would be happy to hear about Chris and Gardenia getting closer thanks to the phone.

Gardenia sat in the seat between Russell and Chris. She’d only started doing that a little while ago, asking nearly every class if she could be in the middle, and now they just let her do it without waiting for the question. It was becoming a habit. Russell wondered if it had to do with the last time, when she hadn’t been able to hear their conversation and Russell hadn’t told her what they’d said. 

Barely ten minutes after the maths teacher had started his lesson, Russell and Gardenia both noticed the folded note that landed on Chris’ desk. The girl next to their friend gestured for him to pass it on to the end of the row. Chris rolled his eyes, annoyed, and flicked it past Gardenia so Russell could catch it and give it to the next classmate. 

“Chris and Russell!” thundered the teacher.

Russell jumped and jerked his fist back to his lap. Too late. The teacher was already marching to his desk, and he stopped there and held out his hand in front of him.

“Let me see.”

Russell reluctantly dropped the piece of paper in the teacher’s outstretched palm. The teacher didn’t even read it, and folded his hands on his hips.

“Always the same troublemakers. Do you two really think it’s okay to pass notes in the middle of class?”

Chris spoke up. “It’s not ours, sir.”

“Don’t try to lie to me, Christopher. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ at all!”

“I think we both know that it is.”

“If you read the note you’ll know I ain’t lyin’.”

“No.” The teacher walked to his desk and tossed the paper in the basket. “You’ve wasted enough of my time as it is. I’m writing both of you up for lunch detention.”

“Whatever,” grumbled Chris.

Gardenia, who’d been fidgeting during the whole exchange, suddenly piped up. “But Mister Greenfield, it really wasn’t their note!”

The teacher looked up sharply.

“Don’t make excuses for your friends.”

“I’m telling the truth!”

“That’s enough, now. I said we’ve lost enough time. Stop disturbing the class.”

“But Mister Greenfield–”

“Alright, Gardenia, since you insist, you can join your friends at their table for lunch.”

Gardenia’s mouth stayed half-open, her eyes wide with shock. Russell heard Melody and the other girls snicker.

“I expect such behavior from the boys, but I’m very disappointed in you, Gardenia. Now all of you focus on the lesson,” said the teacher, and he turned his attention back to the textbook on his desk.

Russell and Chris both looked at Gardenia, who’d gone red in the face. She looked down at her lap with a frown, and Russell saw that her eyes were wet. Chris looked alarmed when he noticed this. He checked that the teacher wasn’t looking at them, then scribbled something on his notebook and nudged Gardenia’s elbow, discreetly tapping on the short written sentence with his finger. Russell couldn’t read it from where he was, but when Gardenia glanced at it, a small smile stretched the corner of her lips seconds later. She quickly wiped her eyes and breathed in, then put her elbows on the table and focused on the part of the textbook they were supposed to be working on.

*

They sat together at lunch. Russell listened to Chris and Gardenia talk about what had happened in class.

“It sucks that he gave you detention.”

“Yeah…” 

There was an upset expression on Gardenia’s face.

“I’ve never gotten detention before,” she told Chris. “I’m a good student.”

“You sure are,” said Chris.

She looked up at him. “I mean, I’m not saying you’re bad, but– you know, it’s not the same.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gardenia… You got in trouble ‘cause of us.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” said Gardenia with a shake of her head. She glanced across the table to make sure that the person watching over them wasn’t listening, and then whispered: “It’s Mister Greenfield’s. He was really unfair to you guys.”

Chris shrugged. “That’s jus’ the usual for me and Russ.”

She crossed her arms. “Well, are you just okay with it?”

“Used to it, more like.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yeah, I mean… What’re you gonna do?” said Chris in earnest. “It’s not like Russ and me can jus’ convince the teachers we’re good kids all of a sudden.”

“But you are!”

He smiled. “C’mon, Gardenia. Seriously? You know we ain’t.”

Gardenia frowned at him. “Why would you say that? Of course the teachers will never change their minds if you say that!”

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re right about it.”

“They only say that because they don’t really know you,” insisted Gardenia.

“I mean, neither do you. You don’t even know half the shit we get up to.”

“What does that mean?”

Gardenia’s voice was sharp, all of a sudden. Russell looked up from his tray of lasagna and saw that she looked angry. Thankfully, she was facing Chris, not him. Chris raised his hands.

“I mean– You know, we haven’t been friends for that long. Maybe there’s some things you don’t realize about us, is all. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Well maybe that’s the problem,” retorted Gardenia unhappily. “You guys never tell me anything!”

“We tell you some things,” Chris answered, but it sounded like he didn’t believe it himself.

“No, Chris! I’m tired of always having to ask you two to talk to me. It feels like you don’t even want to be my friends. And I quit Melody’s group to hang out with you guys, but if you don’t even want me to do that, then I did it for nothing!” exclaimed Gardenia, her face turning pink again, just like it had in class.

“Hey, quiet down, you three,” called the teacher from across the table. “You’re in detention, not daycare.”

Gardenia pursed her lips and squeezed her crossed arms against her chest, fuming.

Chris quickly whispered: “Okay, sorry, sorry Gardenia, okay? I didn’t– we didn’t realize it was that bad. We’ll be careful from now on, I swear. Sorry. Don’t be mad at us.”

She glared at him.

“You better be more careful.”

“Yes, yes, we will be. Promise.”

Gardenia looked away and glared at her tray some more, then uncrossed her arms and began to eat. Chris and Russell looked at each other. Chris looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Russell hesitated, looking around, and then pointed at his own tray in the spot where his brick of chocolate milk was nestled. Chris frowned, then looked at his own tray, and realized that it was where he’d put his serving of cornbread. He pulled a bothered grimace for a brief second, and then seemed to come to terms with the sacrifice he was going to make. He picked it up and handed it to Gardenia without a word.

Gardenia looked at it, then at Chris. Chris attempted a reconciliatory smile. She squinted at him, then took the cornbread and set it down in her own tray. She didn’t say anything, but from the look Chris shot Russell, he looked reassured that she’d accepted it. It seemed to have worked. They finished their meal in silence. It was Gardenia that broke that silence as they went to throw away their trays. 

“Why aren’t you guys upset about getting detention? Don’t your parents say anything? My mom’s gonna be so mad…”

“Yeah, my mom’s not a fan either…” Chris shrugged. “But hey, it’s just one stick on some wad of paper. Ain’t the end of the world.”

Next to him, Russell nodded. Then he pointed out that eating lunch at the detention table was better, anyway. Less people around.

“I guess so,” mused Gardenia.

“Just don’t stand up for us again,” Chris told her. “It’s not worth it for a student like you, with your good records. ‘Sides, this kinda thing is jus’ gonna keep on happenin’ to us, no matter what, until Russ and me are out of school.”

Gardenia considered this, and then grumbled: “Now I get why you two skip school so often.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s part of it.”

“So you’re just… not going to fight this? Ever?” asked Gardenia.

“Nah… Too much of a hassle. The times I did fight, it got me stuck in the principal’s office and they called my mom. She’s got enough on her plate. Don’t wanna get her involved and all.”

Gardenia frowned. “...I really hate this.”

“Yup. Welcome to the club.”

*

Russell had thought that what had happened in math class would be the extent of the daily unpleasantness he was confronted with. School threw another curveball on his way out of their last class of the day, when he walked past the desks in the middle rows. He heard Melody’s voice grow louder, all of a sudden, and the words reached his ears with clarity.

“It’s really surprising Mrs. Seager came back in town after what happened. My mom said that if it was her, she wouldn’t be able to stay near a kid like that, so…”

Russell stopped in his tracks, and Chris bumped into him with a “woah!” of surprise. Gardenia turned around too. It looked like she’d heard the same thing as Russell had, because she was frowning in the girls’ direction.

“What’s wrong?” asked Chris to the both of them.

Gardenia opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Russell walked past her and left the classroom. He didn’t hear Gardenia speak to Chris. Instead, he heard footsteps hurrying after him, so he rushed out. Russell ignored Chris calling after him all the way to the doors, and he burst through, running to the grass and doubling over. He hadn’t run far, but he felt out of breath anyway. Chris and Gardenia’s legs appeared next to him a few seconds later.

“Russ, you okay man?” Chris’ hand touched his shoulder, and he felt his friend lean away from him to ask: “What happened?”

“Melody,” Gardenia unhappily answered. “You didn’t hear her?”

“Nah, I tune her out. Can’t stand her stupid voice. Why, what’d she say?”

“I think she saw his mom.”

“Russell’s mom? But… I thought she was in jail.”

“Me too…”

Russell hadn’t thought about it. About any of it. He hadn’t realized before just now that there was a possibility he’d one day cross paths with his mom again. It made sense. They lived in the same town. Mom still lived in the house. Where everything had happened. She’d never said she’d leave, and Russell had never given too much thought to the… after. After getting out of the hospital. After getting out of court. After getting out of Copperfield. After she got out of jail. Russell dug his fingers into the knees of his pants. Tabasa hadn’t said anything about Mom being back. Maybe Melody had been lying.

“...Yeah,” said Chris. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s just makin’ up stuff to get to you.”

“She spoke louder when Russell walked past,” Gardenia pointed out. “It was on purpose.”

“Is there anythin’ you can do to check?” Chris asked Russell. “Tabasa would know, right?”

Russell nodded, pushing himself back up and wiping his sweaty palms against his shirt. Yes, Tabasa would know. 

“You should ask him.” 

Russell nodded again, and Chris patted his shoulder before letting go. 

*

Tabasa kept throwing looks in his direction as they drove through town.

“Something wrong, buddy? You look a little down.”

Russell looked out the window. He was supposed to ask Tabasa about his mom. For some reason, he didn’t want to anymore. He didn’t say anything.

“Russell?”

Russell continued to ignore Tabasa. Tabasa didn’t insist, and it was quiet all the way until they were back home. While they were shedding their coats and shoes, Tabasa spoke again.

“You’re going to tell me what’s wrong at some point… Right? I get the feeling this is about something that happened at school… If you got another detention, you know I won’t be mad at you. I’ll sign your detention slip.”

Russell had completely forgotten about the detention slip. He wordlessly dug around in his backpack before handing it to Tabasa in the hall. Tabasa took it, but he kept the same seeking look on his face.

“Okay… so it’s not about detention. Did someone bother you?”

Russell glanced at him, then pulled out his notepad. Tabasa waited.

Melody

“Ah, yeah… Of course,” sighed Tabasa. “What did she do?”

 It took a little longer this time for Russell to gather the right thoughts and put them down on paper.

She talked about me

my mom

Do you think she’s really back?

“Oh,” breathed Tabasa. It sounded like someone had punched him. He had a weird look on his face. 

Russell found his reaction odd and not reassuring at all. He waved his notepad when Tabasa didn’t answer. Tabasa blinked, like he’d just remembered he was standing there in the hall with Russell, and then looked down at him. Russell noticed his fingers folding into a fist before Tabasa shoved his hand in his coat pocket. 

“Um… It’s possible. Her lawyer did get her sentence reduced to a year.”

Tabasa’s voice quieted. 

“And it’s been… a year.”

Russell’s arms fell to his sides. He looked down at the ground. He didn’t know how he felt about this. Overall, Russell didn’t think he felt that good. Tabasa was silent too.

“Well,” he eventually said, “it doesn’t mean we have to cross paths with her. She didn’t try to come and find us, so… we’re fine.”

Russell nodded, feeling a bit floaty.

“We’re fine,” repeated Tabasa, a bit firmer this time, as if to convince him. “Come on, let’s prepare dinner.”

*

Russell had a nightmare that night. It was different from the usual ones about Yumi, and Kantera, and Dad, and Poppy. It was about Mom. 

She smelled nice, and she was wearing a pretty white dress that floated and moved when she walked. The house was sunny and warm. Russell felt good. He was sitting on the rug and it was soft and plush beneath his fingers. He waited for his mom to turn around and come back to the living room. She sat on the couch and smiled at him. Russell noticed that her lips were very red. Mom held out her hand.

“What are you doing, just sitting there?”

Russell stood up. He stepped closer to her, and touched her hand.

“Do you want a hug, Russell?”

He nodded, but when he took another step closer to the couch, Mom’s hand pulled away from his. Russell didn’t understand. He took another step, and the couch pulled further away. Russell tried to run, but the faster he tried to reach her, the further away his mom was taken from him. He desperately lunged forward to grab her, but instead of closing around his mom’s warm hand, his fingers landed on something wet, hot, and smelly. Strong arms wrapped around his body, thick and coarse. Russell was sitting on a breathing mound. He couldn’t breathe, suddenly. He was trapped. There were fingers on his nape, moving him around like a doll. His own hand was rigidly set in a curved pose. He couldn’t move a finger. He couldn't let go. The arms dragged him around. Russell was a doll. His mouth was sealed shut, and the thousands of screams inside of him echoed endlessly in the dark.

Russell gasped awake, the lingering shock of fear spreading in tremors through his body from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He squirmed, feeling the sheets wrapped around his legs, the mattress rubbing against his aching, disgusting back. He had to do this several long minutes to fully ground himself in the bedroom. It was only once the real world sensations had overwritten the nightmare’s horrid touch that Russell could open his eyes again. He sought out the familiar. Through the darkness of the room, he saw that Tabasa’s bed was empty, the sheets perfectly made just as they’d been when Russell had gone to sleep. 

Russell got up, anxiety gripping him, remnants from the nightmare and the uncertain feeling that he was all alone. A faint hope came to life inside of him when he saw the light coming through the crack at the bottom of the door. Russell quietly made his way to the door and slowly pushed it open, relief filling him when he saw the familiar shape of his guardian at the table. Russell opened the door all the way and walked up to Tabasa. The man had fallen asleep right there, wearing his coat, his back slowly rising and falling with every quiet breath. The mug next to him was full, but it wasn’t steaming. When Russell touched it, a small shiver shot up his arm from the cold ceramic.

It looked like Tabasa had fallen asleep in the middle of a homework of sorts. His zebra pencil laid tipped against his fingers, like he’d let go while writing. Russell peered at the papers and the notes that littered the table. There were a lot of numbers. Everywhere Russell looked, he saw numbers, some big, some small, and Tabasa’s annotations scrawled in messy pencil. Russell circled the chair so that he could see Tabasa’s face despite the hood. He saw some drool hanging from the man’s lower lip and staining the paper under his face. It was a little gross, but Russell understood that Tabasa must’ve been really tired. Everyone drooled in their sleep when they were really tired.

He read the sheet that was peeking out from under Tabasa’s elbow. The bill made mention of food and tuition. It looked a little bit like the documents Tabasa had had in his office at the zoo, next to the feed diagrams, except that this wasn’t for animals. Russell tugged on it to check if it was from his school, but that made Tabasa snort, and then he opened his eyes and saw Russell standing in front of him. Tabasa’s gaze was a bit unfocused for another second, and then his eyes widened and he shot upright.

“Wuh… Russell?”

Tabasa wiped his lower face with his sleeve without paying much attention, sending the pencil flying across the table, and his eyes darted towards the papers when he heard the sound of it. His arms came down and moved erratically as he quickly gathered up his things beneath Russell’s watchful gaze.

“Uh, don’t mind the mess.”

Russell continued to stare while Tabasa stacked the papers neatly together. He realized the words were stuck again when he didn’t manage to speak. Russell left to get his notepad.

“Where are you going?” Tabasa called after him, sounding worried.

Russell went to look in his bedside table, pulled out his notepad and pen, and returned to the table. Tabasa had a look on his face like he was in trouble. Russell didn’t really understand why. He flipped open his notepad and wrote: 

If you’re this tired, why aren’t you in bed?

Tabasa’s expression changed, and he laughed awkwardly.

“Just crunching numbers… It’s so boring, of course I fell asleep.”

Why do you do it this late?

“Well… I have to do it sometime, you know? Ends of the month are always tricky, and I don’t want to get caught by surprise or anything. It just, um… took me longer than I’d planned.”

Russell believed him. Maths weren’t easy. Still, Tabasa looked too tired to be doing maths at this hour.

Are you going to bed?

“Sure, buddy. In fact, I’m going right now… And what about you? What are you doing up?”

Nightmare.

“Oh,” said Tabasa. “...Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.”

Russell closed his notepad and bent down to get the zebra pencil that had fallen off the table, which he handed back to Tabasa.

“Thanks, Russell.” Tabasa carefully reached out, and patted his head. “Everything okay…?”

Russell nodded. Everything was okay now that Tabasa was here.

“Alright…” Tabasa smiled at him. A gentle smile. “I’m glad you feel that way. …You go back first. I’ve got to put these away, and then I’ll be right there.”

Russell nodded and went back to the bedroom.