Categories > Original > Drama > Misfortune and Gold
Chapter 3: ENDEARMENT
November 1996-May 1997
Phoenix, Arizona
In every sense of the word juvy was like prison for children. It was by far worse than the orphanage. In this place you had an extremely disciplined life. There were so many rules. By now Seth was learning to restrain his emotions and only show people the ones that they needed to see. He hated the confinement of the cramped cells. He could barely stand his own skin. He wanted to claw his way out and run screaming. Some could say that their punishments were more like forms of torture. If you didnt follow their rules they would do one of two things to you, beat you, or put you in a dark isolated cell all alone. Seth hated isolation in the dark. It only brought out the darkness in his mind. It would start to race in a million different directions at once. He would feel on the verge of cracking. Its bad when a 12 yesr old realizes theyre going insane.
Sometimes Seth wished he could just flip some imaginary switch and shut off his brain, just for a little while. There was nothing to do in this place but think, ponder, and reflect. Seth figured out a whole lot of things in there about himself. He was state trash and would be until October 31,2002. Then he would have to fend for himself. Could he support himself College was out of the question. No one was going to give him a scholarship or pay his way. He made barely passing grades because he simply didnt care. But he was highly intelligent where it counted. If he had a masters degree it would be in human beings.
Seth was very attentive to people, all people, everywhere. Life had taught him to be leery of them. He liked to sit back and observe a person for a while. You could learn so much about a person simply by shutting up and watching them. Small talk was pointless. It just filled the unimportant gaps in life. The way a person looks when theyre late for workN a soccer mom who is late picking up another child while stuck in traffic, a lost child, these things were so easily readable without a word even being uttered. Seth had found that most of life worked this way. The only reason we felt a need to talk was simply because of great human condition of loneliness.
May 1997-December 1997
Phoenix Arizona
Seth was released from juvy into the custody of Jake Kramer. The state felt he needed to be with aomeone who could handle him. In a few brief stays at the orphanage he would hear rumors about the most horrible foster in all of Phoenix. They called him Jake the Brake because he put a fast stop to any and all adolescent behaviors. Seth was verbally and physically abused by the ex-Marine drill sergeant for seven months. It wasnt as if Seth didnt report the abuse at first, he did. Jake would beat him twice as hard when he found out. Plus the state just didnt care. He had caused problems everywhere he went and piles of paperwork. He had to learn a lesson.
Jake taught Seth several lessons, the first being to make his bed perfectly each morning. Failure to do so resulted in punishment. Jakes methods of punishment made that of juvy look like a Catholic school. Jake would lock Seth in a wood shed for hours at a time, sometimes in excess of 12 hours. He would burn Seth with cigarette lightwes and cigars. He would slap and punch him as if he were a fully grown man. He would starve him for days if he snarled at something he had made. He would make Seth scrub floors with a toothbrush. He would put him on his knees in a pile of rice for hours. He was constantly backhanding him and making his mouth bleed. He would split open his eyebrows. He would gash his forehead. He would break and fracture bones. He never held back one ounce of his strength. He treated Seth like a Vietnamese prisoner of war.
Seth,s head was spinning. His mouth throbbed. He looked to the white tile floor at the droplets of blood falling from his busted lip. He placed his palm flat on the cool surface of the floor and pushed himself up slowly. His arms shook at his effort. He felt dizzy and weak. Yet, the only thought that entered his mind was how he knew he was going to have to clean this mess up with bleach and a toothbrush while on his knees in rice, sugar, salt, or corn meal. He could see a droplet of blood fall each time he felt his pulse, there was alot of blood. A big mess. He would never get this cleaned up in his condition.
"SAY SOMETHING ELSE!" He could hear Jake yelling as he stood over him, his words loud and forceful. "GET UP BOY! BE A MAN!"
Seth extended his shaking hand up to the table to help pull himself up. He had to get up, he would just get it worse if he didn't. Jake hated weakness. Seth had to be strong. He had to get up, and fast. Jake wasnt patient enough to wait more than two or three seconds.
"GET THAT BLOODY HAND OFF MY TABLE YOU PIECE OF STATE TRASH!" Jake bellowed out as he reared back and punched Seth,'s hand as hard as he could.
Seth let go of the table cradling his habd and fell back to his knees on the blood soaked floor. "PLEASE STOP!" He squealed out sounding as if he were crying. He hoped Jake couldnt see his tears that he was trying to contain, or hear it in his quivering voice. He didnt want to be hit again. He had to get up!
"Crying is for GIRLS and QUEERS...Which one are you boy? Jakes voice asked firmly, like that of a drill sergeant.
"LEAVES ME ALONE!" Seth screamed out to the point his pubescent voice started cracking.
I cant tell what you are with that voice of yours. Are you a GIRL? A QUEER?" He shouted directly into Seth's ear.
Seth found the power of rage inside himself and jumpped up off the floor, standing toe to toe with Jake. Jake smiled, he seemed pleased with the fight in Seth today. "Thats it," he gleamed pulling up his fists and taking a boxing stance. Seth pushed him away as hard as he could but the drill sergeant didnt sway. Seth knew he was going to get it now. Jake began punching Seth several times on both sides of the ribcage. After about 4 blows to the left side he felt the snap of a rib inside his body. Out of reflex he screamed in agony, instantly wrapping his arms around his torso. Jake felt no sympathy. He shoved Seth sideways as he was doubled over the table in anguish. His left side with the seemingly broken rib hit the edge of the table. Seth shrieked even louder, his voice cracking so bad it was almost to the point of going silent. Seth's body fell to the floor. He didnt move. The room was blurry and he couldnt seem to catch his breath. Everything was going white. Seth knew why, this wasnt the first time Jake had made him lose consciousness.
"GET UP!" Jake snapped and kicked Seth in the leg. In Seth's half unconscious state he thought of his mother. He had kicked her just like that trying to wake her. Though his 8 year old kick couldnt have been as forceful as Jakes.
Seth could hear Jake's loud voice becoming a distant echo. The hazy white film that was cast over things was almost solid now. His eyes could only roll back in his head. The next thing he knew he was waking up to ice cold water being dumped in his face.
"Wake up you wimp! We're not done!" He could hear Jakes voice saying in an almost inaudiable mumble. He knew Jake sounded this way because he was truing to pass out again. The pain was unimaginable. It was so hard to breathe. Just his shirt on his skin seemed to weigh a ton. The act of breathing hurt. Moving was out of the question. Dear god...just help. Dont let Jake hit him again. He couldnt take anymore. What did he do to get this punishment?
"I's caint breathe..." Seth slightly slurred from the floor.
"Youre talking," Jake spouted off as he placed his hands on his hips and stared down at him menacingly. He could see Seths eyes rolling back in his head again. He left the oom and returned with the phone in his hand. He carelessly tossed it onto Seth's chest, waking him up enough to moan out in pain. To Seth the weight of the phone felt like a 100lb anvil being dropped onto his chest. It made him quickly pass out again from the pain.
"Call an ambulance," is what Seth thought Jake had said when he woke up the next morning still on the floor.
All Seth could do was cry, but it hurt so bad to do it. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. He somehow shifted his weight onto his righ hip, trying to cradle his side as he used his legs to pull himself up. It took some time to maneuver his body onto his feet. There was dried blood all over his clothes and the floor. He had apparently spent the night there. It was dark when the fight broke out. Now sun was beaming through the windows. Jake was nowhere in sight, but Seth knew he wasnt far. Seth caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. His face was covered in crusted blood. His top lip was split wide open and almost looked like a snakes tongue. He was so ugly. Why had Jake done this to him Tears flowed from his eyes washing clean trails down his bloody face.
Seth could see the phone lying on the corner of the table. He slowly stretched his trembling arm out to it to call 911. The advancement of his arm felt like it was stomping on his ribs and crushing out what little air he managed to gulp in. He tried his best to find the oxygen to form the words for help.
"911 emergency."
"I nees a amba'lance," he almost whispered, his own words aching in his ribs. His nose sounded clogged with blood so his words came out even stranger than normal.
Seth was taken to the hospital. He had received two broken ribs and a busted lip that required 4 stitches to sew up. The doctor told him it was going to leave a bad scar. That didnt matter to him now. Jake had left him with many scars. He already had a bad one down his cheekbone. There were scars in his eyebrows. There were burn scars. What was one more?
December 1997-June 1998
Phoenix, Arizona
When the state of Arizona decided Seth had had enough of Jake they decided his next phase of punishment would be to stay at the orphanage. Being there was awful. The grounds perimeter was fenced with barbed wire around the top. All gates and entrances were heavily gaurded by patrolmen who secured the grounds and made rounds. The people who ran this place would tell you it had a college campus feel. Seth knew that certainly wasnt the case. This place was structured and modeled after a prison. Seth had basically been to prison for kids, so he knew. This place felt like a prison to Seth. One he could never seem to escape for long.
Life in the orphanage, in most ways, was as bad a juvy. In an orphanage there were hundreds of kids, all seemingly with their own personal vendetta against you. At least in juvy you had the threat of gaurds beating you to keep you in line. Here it was only losing your privilege to leave the grounds or a few hours in isolation to calm down. Not as much incentive to stay out of trouble. Seth just didnt get along with people, not anyone. He was simply too angry on the inside. Angry for being stuck there, angry for feeling helpless, and angry for seeing no way out of it all. Though in an orphanage everyone feels that way. When you throw hundreds of kids like that into a cage it becomes a daily recipe for disaster.
Seth was in alot of fights. He always seemed to be getting stuck having to. He never went looking for them but they always had a way of finding him. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but it was all teaching him how to fight. Life was teaching him he had to fight, kill or be killed. It was the most basic instinct. Seth seemed to go somewhere else when he was fighting. His mind would be thinking more about what the other person was going to do instead of his own course of action. How much longer could he live this way? Why did it have to be like this? Wasnt there something better out there for him? Was he cursed?
Seth stood in a showers stream with his hands propped on the wall in front of him. His head hung low as tears fell from his eyes, but they were disguised by the flow of the water. Seth only felt safe crying in the shower. In a place like this, tears were a sign of weakness. The general attitude there was a constant battle for dominancy. If you came off as weak the other alpha minded sharks would devour you. Seth hated the fighting. He just wanted to do his time, so to speak, and be left alone. He didnt care about their ganga or the hierachy of their ranks. He wasnt challenging it. He could have cared less. He just wanted to stay to himself and wallow in his misery.
Seth pushed off the wall and stood up straight. He began humming to himself. This would seem to distract his brain from obsessing over things that couldnt be changed. Right now he found himself not wanting to think. He picked up a bar of soap and ran it down his arm. His glance was caught by a circular scar on his right forearm. It was from where Jake had put a car cigarette lighter to him. He could feel the smooth difference in the skin. He also noted how the hair on his arms had gotten alot thicker and courser lately. He sighed and ran the soap across his stomach. He could feel the ripples in the growing muscles of his abs. His body was starting to lose its childlike apperance. He was starting to look more grown up. He wiped the water from his face. His fingers felt stubble on his chin. He had been shaving it for many months now. It only seemed to make it grow more.
It was tough being a 13 year old boy in a place like that. He never had the privacy to do the things a boy that age does. The best you could do was hiding under your covers with dirty thoughts after the lights were out. There was alot of sexual agression in all the boys. It caused alot of problems. Seth noticed, now that he was older, what sex was, what masterbation was. He also discovered that it was on his mind daily. maybe he was more oversexed than some. Maybe it was just deprivation.
Seth rinsed away the soap and turned off the water. He reached for a towel and wiped his face dry. He tied it around his waist. He walked over to his clothes and began getting dressed. He started humming softly to himself once more, trying to silence his brain.
"All you ever do is hum," said a voice from behind him. "Whats this kid so happy about? You get adopted or something? Drop a white lugie down the drain?"
Seth recognized the voice. It was some 17 year old he had gotten into a fight with a week ago. Seth had actually won the fight. So he knew this was his payback. He also knew that when he turned around this guy would have some friends with him. He was going to make sure he didnt lose to Seth twice. What Seth didnt know was that he wasnt going to get the chance to turn around. There were 5 of them, all older, all bigger. They beat Seth so bad he had to be put in the infirmary for months.At least in the infirmary he could avoid more beatings. Nor would he have to deal with establishing a rank.
They fractured two of his ribs. Seth had experienced that before. That was nothing, just a dull ache and a little difficulty breathing at first. They also broke his jaw. Jake has hairline fractured it once but it required no attention. He simply chewed soft foods and tried not to open his mouth too wide. This time he had to have surgery. The doctors wired his teeth shut so that his jaw would remain immobilized. All he could eat was what he could suck through a straw. His words were mumbled no one could understand. He had to write things down to communicate. A bitter resentful depression began to set in on Seth. Life could not have been any worse for him. He had hit the bottom and saw no way back up.
Seth turned on a light switch. A fluorescent light over a mirror came on and flickered. He approached the sink and looked at his reflection under the lights flashing. He didnt even look like himself. He turned his head to the left and examined the purple and black splotched skin on his jawline. It was swollen so bad that it looked like he had a jaw full of food. It kept oozing drainage into his mouth that tasted fowl. The doctors said it was normal and to try to swallow as little of it as possible. He looked head on at the black line under his left eye. The inflammation was so bad he could barely open it. Each morning it was crusted shut and he would have to soak it with a warm rag for fifteen minutes before the crap would break away. He raised hia lips, with much painstaking effort up off of his teeth to reveal the silver metal on them. It looked just like braces with the exception of the criss cross pattern of the wire locking his teeth tightly together. It was rather frustrating not being able to open your mouth.
He ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth. He wanted to brush his teeth so bad. The taste in his mouth was awful. The shots they kept giving him for pain left a strange metallic taste behind. The shots were so strong they usually put him to sleep. After a week it was easier to not sleep all the time. He had never been drunk before, but he assumed this must have been what being drunk felt like. Maybe a tiny part of him even liked the pain shots. They did have a way of calming his moods.
He watched as tears began flooding his eyes. What had he done to deserve this life he had been given? Why did everything bad always have to happen to him? It just wasnt fair. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted the pain to end. He just wanted a normal life, one like most people had. He wanted the simple problems in life, parents who told him to go play, sibblings to fight with, lost library books, not this. There had to be something better than this. Why couldnt he find it? Why couldnt it find him? He would take anything else but this. This was no life, not one worth living.he was thirteen, life should not have been this bad or this hard. He closed his eyes and squeezed the tears out. He didnt want to live this life anymore. He felt angry and confused all the time. Why him? He simply couldnt live this way anymore.
He turned and walked out of the bathroom and into the hallway. He ran his hand down his side over his still injured ribs, they still ached. The rain outside didnt help, it made his old broken bones twinge. There was a dull faint ache in each of them. He looked to the nurses station to see that it was empty. Instead of returning to his room he quietly walked down the hall. He came to an unlocked door and went inside. He coulg see a gurney at first glance in the dark. There were several cabinets with glass doors. Peering through the glass he could see plaster canisters and rolls of insulation. This had to be the casting room. He had been in rooms like this before.
Seth slid down the wall, careful not to hurt his stiff ribs. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to fight off tears. He just wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere but there. He began sobbing, the tears just wouldnt stop. He gripped his throbbing jaw, the crying hurting it with his movements. He began flaying his legs and pounding his fists on the floor. He just wanted to be able to open his mouth and get the hell out of there. His tear soaked face stared up at the glass cabinets, trying to think of something else. He had to make his thoughts stop. He had to redirect them.
The lightning outside lit up the room for a split second. Seths eyes were caught by the metallic shine of an object sitting on one of the shelves. He slowly used the wall to help get himself back on his feet. He crossed over to the cabinet and strained to see inside to find the object that had caught his attention. Another lightning bolt lit up the dim room. Now he could see that the object was a small handheld saw with a spinning orbital blade. It was the saw that they cut the casts off with. He remembered a similar tool in his cast removals.
His eyes studied the cabinet. He saw a padlock on the door. He jiggled it to see if it would come loose but it was secure. He picked up a canister of cotton balls and waited for a clap of thunder to smash the glass with it. He returned to the window in the door to make sure no one was coming. All seemed quiet on the outside. He assumed the thunder his the sound of the shattering glass.
He walked back over to the cabinet and reached inside through the splintered glass. He pulled out the saw and ran his thumb over the jagged teeth on the edge of the blade. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the room for a few flashing seconds. It was just long enough for Seth to find an outlet. He unwrapped the cord and bent over, careful not to distress his ribs, and plugged in the cord. He sat on the gurney hunched awkwardly to one side with the saw clenched in his fist. It was the only position of sitting he could yet manage since the beating. He could feel his eyes welling up with tears again. He pulled the trigger on the saw and listened as it made a whizzing sound as the blade spun. He released the trigger and looked down to the floor.
Death had to be better than this. It just had to be a better place. He knew how bleak his future was. He would be stuck under the states thumb for five more years. He had already endured years of it, but he couldnt take another five. Death had to be a means to the end of all the neglect, sorrow, agony, anger, and cruelties. What other answer could there be? Was this what god expected him to do Is that why he had left the door unlocked Seth knew you didnt get into heaven if you killed yourself, but at this point he was questioning if God was even real. Why would he put him through such things Why wouldnt he answer his prayers begging for help?
What could possibly happen in his future to make him change his mind about this? He would never be President or cure cancer. He would never have a nice house or a fast car. He would never make it into college. He would never be anything that mattered. There would never be anyone to care if he lived or died. He would always feel alien around people. He would never be able to trust. He couldnt even love because he didnt know what it was or felt like. Vera said she loved him, but that was a lie. If she loved him she wouldnt have been such a bad mother. What would life be like when he turned 18? Where would he go? What could he do? How would he live and take care of himself? How many minimum wage jobs would it take? Would he ever be able to make friends? Could he ever be comfortable around people? Would he ever feel normal? None of it seemed to be any prospect worth living for. None of it made him want to hold on. There was nothing left for him to hold on to.
Seth laid his left arm in his lap and looked down to his wrist facing upward at him. He placed the teeth of the saws blade over his wrist trying to visualize the decision he was making. Was this the right thing to be contemplating doing? He didnt have a choice. He couldnt stay in this place one more day. He couldnt live with fosters anymore. He couldnt take another beating. He didnt have a choice. There just wasnt any other way out.
He looked to the saws trigger firmly grasped in his right hand. He drew his breath in and held it. His eyes traveled back over to the blade of the saw pressed securely to the skin on his inner wrist.e exhaled and felt his heart start to race. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. A spray of blood went across his lap and he let go of the trigger. He opened his eyes and looked down to his wrist. He saw a bloody 3 inch vertical cut. It wasnt bleeding as much as he thought it might. He switched hands with the saw and pressed the bloody blade to the inside of his right wrist. he pressed the trigger as he watched the blade spin effortlessly, cutting through his flesh, tendons, and ligaments. He assumed it would probably go through the bone too if only he could be strong enough to stand it.
His hands shaking he dropped the saw to the floor. He stood up and held out both wrists before him, observing them. The right one was bleeding worse than the other, but it was catching up fast. He stared at the streams of blood coming from the wounds. The drops seemed to drip thick like syrup. He soon began feeling dizzy and his vision was starting to blur. His body eventually fell to the floor and it didnt even hurt. He didnt try to fight it or save himself. He just went with it. He closed his eyes knowing he would soon bleed to death. He wasnt afraid. He felt strangely calm and peaceful. He could feel himself slipping away, and he wanted to. He was ready to embrace death. He could feel the thoughts in his head slowing. He could feel the world fading out.
"Seth!" said a voice, a womans, "Seth can you hear me!?"
Seth could feel twp fingertips opening his eye and shining a light into it. He heard sounds, voices, but they seemed distant and echoed, like listening to things underwater. Or like when Jake would knock him unconscious.
"We need some blood in her quick!" Shouted a mans voice. "Look in his records and get me a blood type!"
"O Negative doctor," spoke another womans voice.
"Stay with me kid!" the male voice spoke as he slapped the side of Seth's arm. Seth pictured himself on his knees on a floor trying to wake Vera.
Seth tried to lift his head but was unable. He couldnt even hold his eyes open. He could make out a bright light over him, shining down in his face. It began to blur and slowly get dim.
"We only have one bag of O Negative," spoke a 4th voice in the room.
Seth couldnt tell if it was male or female. Nor could he really tell what they were saying. He did understand that he was in an operating room. He understood that they were trying to save him, but he couldnt tell them to stop.. He couldnt move to push them out of he way. He just wanted them to let him go. He wanted to go. The urge of fleeing had never felt more intense. Then he began slipping away to someplace else, somewhere where it was bright, and there was no pain or fear. He felt at peace in this strange place that was simply materializing before him. A feeling of contentment overcame him and he never wanted to leave. Was this maybe heaven?
"Thats not going to be enough!" the doctor spoke as he quickly hung a pint of blood onto an IV stand and start an IV in Seth's arm. "Find me more...kid...staff, I dont care."
Seth felt like he was standing in a great wide open vastness. There was no color. There was no shape. But it felt perfect there. It was so peaceful. There was no noise, no pain, nothing but unrequited bliss. It was what he had been searching for for so long. This was it. He never wanted to leave this place, but he could feel them pulling him back. He was kicking and screaming on the inside. He didnt want to come back. He wanted to stay here in this place. This was where he belonged. Why wouldnt they let him stay? Why bother saving him? No one would miss him.
"Somebody stitch his other wrist!" the doctor instructed as he began the intricate work of reattaching a few tendons.
When Seth was finally able to reopen his eyes he noticed the room was quiet. Sun was coming through the windows. He lift his head to see himself still in the infirmary and still alive. Why? This wasnt where he was supposed to be. He glanced down at his wrists. They were all bandaged up and appeared to have restraints on them, holding him to the bed. This wasnt right. He wasnt supposed to be there. He was supposed to be blanketed up in that feeling he had last night. He wasnt supposed to be here.
He threw his head back with a sigh, displeased to find himself still breathing. Last night he had been on the cusp of reaching some place better. He remembered the calm peace that had swept through him. Perfect accord and tranquility had taken everything bad away and nothing had mattered. He remembered wanting to go further into whatever it was. He had wanted to leave this life and this world behind. He didnt want to be dragger back, and thats exactly how it felt, like he was drug back into his mangled body. Why didnt they just let him die?
His glance fell on a woman leaned in the doorway, humbly smiling at him. She looked to be in her 50s. "How are you feeling today Seth?"
Seth shook his head as tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. If he could talk he would ask her why he was still there.
"Youre very lucky," she spoke moving closer to him, "You just about didnt make it."
Not making it had been his point. He didnt wish to be alive. He didnt want to be strapped to the bed like some insane person. He didnt want to have his jaw wired shut anymore. He didnt want to be an orphan. He began figiting about, trying to free his hands.
"The restraints are just standard procedure after someone..." She paused and looked more closely at him. "Im Mrs. Rhodes. Im a psychiatrist. I know we cant talk today, but your jaw will be healed in a few more weeks and we will begin having sessions."
Seth looked away crying. He didnt want any sessions. He jerked at his arms and kicked his legs as indistinct mumbles came from behind his locked teeth. He just wanted to be free from this life.
"Seth," Mrs. Rhodes spoke with a calm soothing voice as she gently placed a hand on his chest, "calm down. You will only hurt yourself. I know youre angry. You just have to accept that this is just the way things are right now. I promise that one day it will be better."
Seth rest his head back on the pillows with tears streaming from his eyes. He didnt want to accept this. He just wanted the shit to stop. He had been right there at the jumping off point but someone grabbed him in mid air and brought him back to this cruel world he despised. Why didnt they just let him go? Why bring him back to this? Didnt he have any say in this? It was his life, wasnt it?
May 1998
Phoenix, Arizona
Mrs. Rhodes sat at her desk and watched Seth fidgiting with the sleeves on the long sleeved shirt he was wearing. She knew he was adjusting them to cover his scars. "Its May Seth," she said watching him, "arent you hot?"
Seth shook his head and tried to relax a bit. It was difficult for her to peg Seth. He never said much in their sessions. She never could get him to talk about the things that had happened to him. He just froze up at her questions. Sometimes he ignored them outright. Sometimes he gave her a generic answer. He would answer with a question. He would tell her what he knew she wanted to hear. Maybe he had forced the memories from his mind. It was much easier for children to bloc out bad things.
She had learned a great deal from his files. Any one could see he had been through alot. His father abandoned him as an infant. His mother barely kept a roof over his head. She was known to have been a prostitute. She had drug and alcohol problems. Then at only 8 Seth came home from school and discovered her dead body. But he wouldnt talk about his mom. He did whatever he could to keep her out of his head. The only thing she really managed to learn from the sessions was that Seth loved the outdoors. He liked hunting. He had a deep admiration for his late grandfather Donovan. Other than that his brain was a closed book. Seth was not your typical child. His grammar was that of an uneducated child but his thought process wasnt. He talked and thought more like an adult. He was quite mature for his age. He understood things in was that children shouldnt be able to. When you looked into his eyes it was like looking at an old soul. His 13 year old eyes had seen alot and it was written all over him in scars.
He was unique. He could easily lead you to believe he was 15 or 16. He knew what people expected from him. He was very good at sizing you up and telling you all about yourself, almost psychic. Mrs. Rhodes never told Seth she was divorced, but he knew. She never spoke of her children but he knew from the pictures on her desk that her daughter was a Norte Dame cheerleader and that her son was married with two boys. She never expressed when she had a headace but he always seemed to know. He never saw her get in and out of her car but knew she drove a Nissan Maxima. She never told him her favorite color, but one day out of the blue he lay yellow flowerd from the grounds on her desk and said, "They's ya favorite color."
"Are you trying to hide your scars?" she asked.
He only glanced down at his wrists in silence. He seemed to be such a shy boy, afraid perhaps, not that he would show it. He was extremely gifted at suppressing his emotions. He seemed Vulcan in the way he felt that emotion only caused problems. It was difficult to treat him with such a high wall around him. She only caught a true glimpse of him every once in a blue moon. She had only seen him smile once. It was a beautiful smile. He had laughed once and she had been surprised at how deep it was. She knew his soul was tortured but he put on this ellaborate outward presentation that everything was fine.
"Are you starting to regret what you did?"
Seth sighed deeply, "Da only thang I regret is they's saved me." Even the way he spoke was unique. He had horrible grammar, but it was mixed with a New York twang. He had never been there in his life. His voice hadnt cracked in months and was quite deep for a 13 year old.
She opened her top drawer, "Here," she said tossing two black athletic wrist bands on the desk. "I asked around, they say that since the accident you try to hide the scars."
Seth picked one up and pondered why she called it an accident. It had been anything but accidental.
"Why would you do that if you werent ashamed?
He slid on one of the bands, "I's aint ashamed."
"Then why hide the scars?"
"Cuz," he snapped and pulled on the other wrist band with a sigh, "In 'ere it'd jus get my ass kicked." He looked down shaking his head, "I caint take no mo fightin'."
It was quite for a moment as Mrs. Rhodes flipped through some papers on her desk. "Theyre placing you with Mr. and Mrs. Greenwyn in a month."
"any otha fostahs?" he asked
"No but they have a 16 year old daughter."
"They's know bout dis?" he asked holding his wrists up.
"No. They dont know about the accident."
Seth huffed. Accident?
November 1996-May 1997
Phoenix, Arizona
In every sense of the word juvy was like prison for children. It was by far worse than the orphanage. In this place you had an extremely disciplined life. There were so many rules. By now Seth was learning to restrain his emotions and only show people the ones that they needed to see. He hated the confinement of the cramped cells. He could barely stand his own skin. He wanted to claw his way out and run screaming. Some could say that their punishments were more like forms of torture. If you didnt follow their rules they would do one of two things to you, beat you, or put you in a dark isolated cell all alone. Seth hated isolation in the dark. It only brought out the darkness in his mind. It would start to race in a million different directions at once. He would feel on the verge of cracking. Its bad when a 12 yesr old realizes theyre going insane.
Sometimes Seth wished he could just flip some imaginary switch and shut off his brain, just for a little while. There was nothing to do in this place but think, ponder, and reflect. Seth figured out a whole lot of things in there about himself. He was state trash and would be until October 31,2002. Then he would have to fend for himself. Could he support himself College was out of the question. No one was going to give him a scholarship or pay his way. He made barely passing grades because he simply didnt care. But he was highly intelligent where it counted. If he had a masters degree it would be in human beings.
Seth was very attentive to people, all people, everywhere. Life had taught him to be leery of them. He liked to sit back and observe a person for a while. You could learn so much about a person simply by shutting up and watching them. Small talk was pointless. It just filled the unimportant gaps in life. The way a person looks when theyre late for workN a soccer mom who is late picking up another child while stuck in traffic, a lost child, these things were so easily readable without a word even being uttered. Seth had found that most of life worked this way. The only reason we felt a need to talk was simply because of great human condition of loneliness.
May 1997-December 1997
Phoenix Arizona
Seth was released from juvy into the custody of Jake Kramer. The state felt he needed to be with aomeone who could handle him. In a few brief stays at the orphanage he would hear rumors about the most horrible foster in all of Phoenix. They called him Jake the Brake because he put a fast stop to any and all adolescent behaviors. Seth was verbally and physically abused by the ex-Marine drill sergeant for seven months. It wasnt as if Seth didnt report the abuse at first, he did. Jake would beat him twice as hard when he found out. Plus the state just didnt care. He had caused problems everywhere he went and piles of paperwork. He had to learn a lesson.
Jake taught Seth several lessons, the first being to make his bed perfectly each morning. Failure to do so resulted in punishment. Jakes methods of punishment made that of juvy look like a Catholic school. Jake would lock Seth in a wood shed for hours at a time, sometimes in excess of 12 hours. He would burn Seth with cigarette lightwes and cigars. He would slap and punch him as if he were a fully grown man. He would starve him for days if he snarled at something he had made. He would make Seth scrub floors with a toothbrush. He would put him on his knees in a pile of rice for hours. He was constantly backhanding him and making his mouth bleed. He would split open his eyebrows. He would gash his forehead. He would break and fracture bones. He never held back one ounce of his strength. He treated Seth like a Vietnamese prisoner of war.
Seth,s head was spinning. His mouth throbbed. He looked to the white tile floor at the droplets of blood falling from his busted lip. He placed his palm flat on the cool surface of the floor and pushed himself up slowly. His arms shook at his effort. He felt dizzy and weak. Yet, the only thought that entered his mind was how he knew he was going to have to clean this mess up with bleach and a toothbrush while on his knees in rice, sugar, salt, or corn meal. He could see a droplet of blood fall each time he felt his pulse, there was alot of blood. A big mess. He would never get this cleaned up in his condition.
"SAY SOMETHING ELSE!" He could hear Jake yelling as he stood over him, his words loud and forceful. "GET UP BOY! BE A MAN!"
Seth extended his shaking hand up to the table to help pull himself up. He had to get up, he would just get it worse if he didn't. Jake hated weakness. Seth had to be strong. He had to get up, and fast. Jake wasnt patient enough to wait more than two or three seconds.
"GET THAT BLOODY HAND OFF MY TABLE YOU PIECE OF STATE TRASH!" Jake bellowed out as he reared back and punched Seth,'s hand as hard as he could.
Seth let go of the table cradling his habd and fell back to his knees on the blood soaked floor. "PLEASE STOP!" He squealed out sounding as if he were crying. He hoped Jake couldnt see his tears that he was trying to contain, or hear it in his quivering voice. He didnt want to be hit again. He had to get up!
"Crying is for GIRLS and QUEERS...Which one are you boy? Jakes voice asked firmly, like that of a drill sergeant.
"LEAVES ME ALONE!" Seth screamed out to the point his pubescent voice started cracking.
I cant tell what you are with that voice of yours. Are you a GIRL? A QUEER?" He shouted directly into Seth's ear.
Seth found the power of rage inside himself and jumpped up off the floor, standing toe to toe with Jake. Jake smiled, he seemed pleased with the fight in Seth today. "Thats it," he gleamed pulling up his fists and taking a boxing stance. Seth pushed him away as hard as he could but the drill sergeant didnt sway. Seth knew he was going to get it now. Jake began punching Seth several times on both sides of the ribcage. After about 4 blows to the left side he felt the snap of a rib inside his body. Out of reflex he screamed in agony, instantly wrapping his arms around his torso. Jake felt no sympathy. He shoved Seth sideways as he was doubled over the table in anguish. His left side with the seemingly broken rib hit the edge of the table. Seth shrieked even louder, his voice cracking so bad it was almost to the point of going silent. Seth's body fell to the floor. He didnt move. The room was blurry and he couldnt seem to catch his breath. Everything was going white. Seth knew why, this wasnt the first time Jake had made him lose consciousness.
"GET UP!" Jake snapped and kicked Seth in the leg. In Seth's half unconscious state he thought of his mother. He had kicked her just like that trying to wake her. Though his 8 year old kick couldnt have been as forceful as Jakes.
Seth could hear Jake's loud voice becoming a distant echo. The hazy white film that was cast over things was almost solid now. His eyes could only roll back in his head. The next thing he knew he was waking up to ice cold water being dumped in his face.
"Wake up you wimp! We're not done!" He could hear Jakes voice saying in an almost inaudiable mumble. He knew Jake sounded this way because he was truing to pass out again. The pain was unimaginable. It was so hard to breathe. Just his shirt on his skin seemed to weigh a ton. The act of breathing hurt. Moving was out of the question. Dear god...just help. Dont let Jake hit him again. He couldnt take anymore. What did he do to get this punishment?
"I's caint breathe..." Seth slightly slurred from the floor.
"Youre talking," Jake spouted off as he placed his hands on his hips and stared down at him menacingly. He could see Seths eyes rolling back in his head again. He left the oom and returned with the phone in his hand. He carelessly tossed it onto Seth's chest, waking him up enough to moan out in pain. To Seth the weight of the phone felt like a 100lb anvil being dropped onto his chest. It made him quickly pass out again from the pain.
"Call an ambulance," is what Seth thought Jake had said when he woke up the next morning still on the floor.
All Seth could do was cry, but it hurt so bad to do it. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. He somehow shifted his weight onto his righ hip, trying to cradle his side as he used his legs to pull himself up. It took some time to maneuver his body onto his feet. There was dried blood all over his clothes and the floor. He had apparently spent the night there. It was dark when the fight broke out. Now sun was beaming through the windows. Jake was nowhere in sight, but Seth knew he wasnt far. Seth caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. His face was covered in crusted blood. His top lip was split wide open and almost looked like a snakes tongue. He was so ugly. Why had Jake done this to him Tears flowed from his eyes washing clean trails down his bloody face.
Seth could see the phone lying on the corner of the table. He slowly stretched his trembling arm out to it to call 911. The advancement of his arm felt like it was stomping on his ribs and crushing out what little air he managed to gulp in. He tried his best to find the oxygen to form the words for help.
"911 emergency."
"I nees a amba'lance," he almost whispered, his own words aching in his ribs. His nose sounded clogged with blood so his words came out even stranger than normal.
Seth was taken to the hospital. He had received two broken ribs and a busted lip that required 4 stitches to sew up. The doctor told him it was going to leave a bad scar. That didnt matter to him now. Jake had left him with many scars. He already had a bad one down his cheekbone. There were scars in his eyebrows. There were burn scars. What was one more?
December 1997-June 1998
Phoenix, Arizona
When the state of Arizona decided Seth had had enough of Jake they decided his next phase of punishment would be to stay at the orphanage. Being there was awful. The grounds perimeter was fenced with barbed wire around the top. All gates and entrances were heavily gaurded by patrolmen who secured the grounds and made rounds. The people who ran this place would tell you it had a college campus feel. Seth knew that certainly wasnt the case. This place was structured and modeled after a prison. Seth had basically been to prison for kids, so he knew. This place felt like a prison to Seth. One he could never seem to escape for long.
Life in the orphanage, in most ways, was as bad a juvy. In an orphanage there were hundreds of kids, all seemingly with their own personal vendetta against you. At least in juvy you had the threat of gaurds beating you to keep you in line. Here it was only losing your privilege to leave the grounds or a few hours in isolation to calm down. Not as much incentive to stay out of trouble. Seth just didnt get along with people, not anyone. He was simply too angry on the inside. Angry for being stuck there, angry for feeling helpless, and angry for seeing no way out of it all. Though in an orphanage everyone feels that way. When you throw hundreds of kids like that into a cage it becomes a daily recipe for disaster.
Seth was in alot of fights. He always seemed to be getting stuck having to. He never went looking for them but they always had a way of finding him. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but it was all teaching him how to fight. Life was teaching him he had to fight, kill or be killed. It was the most basic instinct. Seth seemed to go somewhere else when he was fighting. His mind would be thinking more about what the other person was going to do instead of his own course of action. How much longer could he live this way? Why did it have to be like this? Wasnt there something better out there for him? Was he cursed?
Seth stood in a showers stream with his hands propped on the wall in front of him. His head hung low as tears fell from his eyes, but they were disguised by the flow of the water. Seth only felt safe crying in the shower. In a place like this, tears were a sign of weakness. The general attitude there was a constant battle for dominancy. If you came off as weak the other alpha minded sharks would devour you. Seth hated the fighting. He just wanted to do his time, so to speak, and be left alone. He didnt care about their ganga or the hierachy of their ranks. He wasnt challenging it. He could have cared less. He just wanted to stay to himself and wallow in his misery.
Seth pushed off the wall and stood up straight. He began humming to himself. This would seem to distract his brain from obsessing over things that couldnt be changed. Right now he found himself not wanting to think. He picked up a bar of soap and ran it down his arm. His glance was caught by a circular scar on his right forearm. It was from where Jake had put a car cigarette lighter to him. He could feel the smooth difference in the skin. He also noted how the hair on his arms had gotten alot thicker and courser lately. He sighed and ran the soap across his stomach. He could feel the ripples in the growing muscles of his abs. His body was starting to lose its childlike apperance. He was starting to look more grown up. He wiped the water from his face. His fingers felt stubble on his chin. He had been shaving it for many months now. It only seemed to make it grow more.
It was tough being a 13 year old boy in a place like that. He never had the privacy to do the things a boy that age does. The best you could do was hiding under your covers with dirty thoughts after the lights were out. There was alot of sexual agression in all the boys. It caused alot of problems. Seth noticed, now that he was older, what sex was, what masterbation was. He also discovered that it was on his mind daily. maybe he was more oversexed than some. Maybe it was just deprivation.
Seth rinsed away the soap and turned off the water. He reached for a towel and wiped his face dry. He tied it around his waist. He walked over to his clothes and began getting dressed. He started humming softly to himself once more, trying to silence his brain.
"All you ever do is hum," said a voice from behind him. "Whats this kid so happy about? You get adopted or something? Drop a white lugie down the drain?"
Seth recognized the voice. It was some 17 year old he had gotten into a fight with a week ago. Seth had actually won the fight. So he knew this was his payback. He also knew that when he turned around this guy would have some friends with him. He was going to make sure he didnt lose to Seth twice. What Seth didnt know was that he wasnt going to get the chance to turn around. There were 5 of them, all older, all bigger. They beat Seth so bad he had to be put in the infirmary for months.At least in the infirmary he could avoid more beatings. Nor would he have to deal with establishing a rank.
They fractured two of his ribs. Seth had experienced that before. That was nothing, just a dull ache and a little difficulty breathing at first. They also broke his jaw. Jake has hairline fractured it once but it required no attention. He simply chewed soft foods and tried not to open his mouth too wide. This time he had to have surgery. The doctors wired his teeth shut so that his jaw would remain immobilized. All he could eat was what he could suck through a straw. His words were mumbled no one could understand. He had to write things down to communicate. A bitter resentful depression began to set in on Seth. Life could not have been any worse for him. He had hit the bottom and saw no way back up.
Seth turned on a light switch. A fluorescent light over a mirror came on and flickered. He approached the sink and looked at his reflection under the lights flashing. He didnt even look like himself. He turned his head to the left and examined the purple and black splotched skin on his jawline. It was swollen so bad that it looked like he had a jaw full of food. It kept oozing drainage into his mouth that tasted fowl. The doctors said it was normal and to try to swallow as little of it as possible. He looked head on at the black line under his left eye. The inflammation was so bad he could barely open it. Each morning it was crusted shut and he would have to soak it with a warm rag for fifteen minutes before the crap would break away. He raised hia lips, with much painstaking effort up off of his teeth to reveal the silver metal on them. It looked just like braces with the exception of the criss cross pattern of the wire locking his teeth tightly together. It was rather frustrating not being able to open your mouth.
He ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth. He wanted to brush his teeth so bad. The taste in his mouth was awful. The shots they kept giving him for pain left a strange metallic taste behind. The shots were so strong they usually put him to sleep. After a week it was easier to not sleep all the time. He had never been drunk before, but he assumed this must have been what being drunk felt like. Maybe a tiny part of him even liked the pain shots. They did have a way of calming his moods.
He watched as tears began flooding his eyes. What had he done to deserve this life he had been given? Why did everything bad always have to happen to him? It just wasnt fair. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted the pain to end. He just wanted a normal life, one like most people had. He wanted the simple problems in life, parents who told him to go play, sibblings to fight with, lost library books, not this. There had to be something better than this. Why couldnt he find it? Why couldnt it find him? He would take anything else but this. This was no life, not one worth living.he was thirteen, life should not have been this bad or this hard. He closed his eyes and squeezed the tears out. He didnt want to live this life anymore. He felt angry and confused all the time. Why him? He simply couldnt live this way anymore.
He turned and walked out of the bathroom and into the hallway. He ran his hand down his side over his still injured ribs, they still ached. The rain outside didnt help, it made his old broken bones twinge. There was a dull faint ache in each of them. He looked to the nurses station to see that it was empty. Instead of returning to his room he quietly walked down the hall. He came to an unlocked door and went inside. He coulg see a gurney at first glance in the dark. There were several cabinets with glass doors. Peering through the glass he could see plaster canisters and rolls of insulation. This had to be the casting room. He had been in rooms like this before.
Seth slid down the wall, careful not to hurt his stiff ribs. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to fight off tears. He just wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere but there. He began sobbing, the tears just wouldnt stop. He gripped his throbbing jaw, the crying hurting it with his movements. He began flaying his legs and pounding his fists on the floor. He just wanted to be able to open his mouth and get the hell out of there. His tear soaked face stared up at the glass cabinets, trying to think of something else. He had to make his thoughts stop. He had to redirect them.
The lightning outside lit up the room for a split second. Seths eyes were caught by the metallic shine of an object sitting on one of the shelves. He slowly used the wall to help get himself back on his feet. He crossed over to the cabinet and strained to see inside to find the object that had caught his attention. Another lightning bolt lit up the dim room. Now he could see that the object was a small handheld saw with a spinning orbital blade. It was the saw that they cut the casts off with. He remembered a similar tool in his cast removals.
His eyes studied the cabinet. He saw a padlock on the door. He jiggled it to see if it would come loose but it was secure. He picked up a canister of cotton balls and waited for a clap of thunder to smash the glass with it. He returned to the window in the door to make sure no one was coming. All seemed quiet on the outside. He assumed the thunder his the sound of the shattering glass.
He walked back over to the cabinet and reached inside through the splintered glass. He pulled out the saw and ran his thumb over the jagged teeth on the edge of the blade. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the room for a few flashing seconds. It was just long enough for Seth to find an outlet. He unwrapped the cord and bent over, careful not to distress his ribs, and plugged in the cord. He sat on the gurney hunched awkwardly to one side with the saw clenched in his fist. It was the only position of sitting he could yet manage since the beating. He could feel his eyes welling up with tears again. He pulled the trigger on the saw and listened as it made a whizzing sound as the blade spun. He released the trigger and looked down to the floor.
Death had to be better than this. It just had to be a better place. He knew how bleak his future was. He would be stuck under the states thumb for five more years. He had already endured years of it, but he couldnt take another five. Death had to be a means to the end of all the neglect, sorrow, agony, anger, and cruelties. What other answer could there be? Was this what god expected him to do Is that why he had left the door unlocked Seth knew you didnt get into heaven if you killed yourself, but at this point he was questioning if God was even real. Why would he put him through such things Why wouldnt he answer his prayers begging for help?
What could possibly happen in his future to make him change his mind about this? He would never be President or cure cancer. He would never have a nice house or a fast car. He would never make it into college. He would never be anything that mattered. There would never be anyone to care if he lived or died. He would always feel alien around people. He would never be able to trust. He couldnt even love because he didnt know what it was or felt like. Vera said she loved him, but that was a lie. If she loved him she wouldnt have been such a bad mother. What would life be like when he turned 18? Where would he go? What could he do? How would he live and take care of himself? How many minimum wage jobs would it take? Would he ever be able to make friends? Could he ever be comfortable around people? Would he ever feel normal? None of it seemed to be any prospect worth living for. None of it made him want to hold on. There was nothing left for him to hold on to.
Seth laid his left arm in his lap and looked down to his wrist facing upward at him. He placed the teeth of the saws blade over his wrist trying to visualize the decision he was making. Was this the right thing to be contemplating doing? He didnt have a choice. He couldnt stay in this place one more day. He couldnt live with fosters anymore. He couldnt take another beating. He didnt have a choice. There just wasnt any other way out.
He looked to the saws trigger firmly grasped in his right hand. He drew his breath in and held it. His eyes traveled back over to the blade of the saw pressed securely to the skin on his inner wrist.e exhaled and felt his heart start to race. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. A spray of blood went across his lap and he let go of the trigger. He opened his eyes and looked down to his wrist. He saw a bloody 3 inch vertical cut. It wasnt bleeding as much as he thought it might. He switched hands with the saw and pressed the bloody blade to the inside of his right wrist. he pressed the trigger as he watched the blade spin effortlessly, cutting through his flesh, tendons, and ligaments. He assumed it would probably go through the bone too if only he could be strong enough to stand it.
His hands shaking he dropped the saw to the floor. He stood up and held out both wrists before him, observing them. The right one was bleeding worse than the other, but it was catching up fast. He stared at the streams of blood coming from the wounds. The drops seemed to drip thick like syrup. He soon began feeling dizzy and his vision was starting to blur. His body eventually fell to the floor and it didnt even hurt. He didnt try to fight it or save himself. He just went with it. He closed his eyes knowing he would soon bleed to death. He wasnt afraid. He felt strangely calm and peaceful. He could feel himself slipping away, and he wanted to. He was ready to embrace death. He could feel the thoughts in his head slowing. He could feel the world fading out.
"Seth!" said a voice, a womans, "Seth can you hear me!?"
Seth could feel twp fingertips opening his eye and shining a light into it. He heard sounds, voices, but they seemed distant and echoed, like listening to things underwater. Or like when Jake would knock him unconscious.
"We need some blood in her quick!" Shouted a mans voice. "Look in his records and get me a blood type!"
"O Negative doctor," spoke another womans voice.
"Stay with me kid!" the male voice spoke as he slapped the side of Seth's arm. Seth pictured himself on his knees on a floor trying to wake Vera.
Seth tried to lift his head but was unable. He couldnt even hold his eyes open. He could make out a bright light over him, shining down in his face. It began to blur and slowly get dim.
"We only have one bag of O Negative," spoke a 4th voice in the room.
Seth couldnt tell if it was male or female. Nor could he really tell what they were saying. He did understand that he was in an operating room. He understood that they were trying to save him, but he couldnt tell them to stop.. He couldnt move to push them out of he way. He just wanted them to let him go. He wanted to go. The urge of fleeing had never felt more intense. Then he began slipping away to someplace else, somewhere where it was bright, and there was no pain or fear. He felt at peace in this strange place that was simply materializing before him. A feeling of contentment overcame him and he never wanted to leave. Was this maybe heaven?
"Thats not going to be enough!" the doctor spoke as he quickly hung a pint of blood onto an IV stand and start an IV in Seth's arm. "Find me more...kid...staff, I dont care."
Seth felt like he was standing in a great wide open vastness. There was no color. There was no shape. But it felt perfect there. It was so peaceful. There was no noise, no pain, nothing but unrequited bliss. It was what he had been searching for for so long. This was it. He never wanted to leave this place, but he could feel them pulling him back. He was kicking and screaming on the inside. He didnt want to come back. He wanted to stay here in this place. This was where he belonged. Why wouldnt they let him stay? Why bother saving him? No one would miss him.
"Somebody stitch his other wrist!" the doctor instructed as he began the intricate work of reattaching a few tendons.
When Seth was finally able to reopen his eyes he noticed the room was quiet. Sun was coming through the windows. He lift his head to see himself still in the infirmary and still alive. Why? This wasnt where he was supposed to be. He glanced down at his wrists. They were all bandaged up and appeared to have restraints on them, holding him to the bed. This wasnt right. He wasnt supposed to be there. He was supposed to be blanketed up in that feeling he had last night. He wasnt supposed to be here.
He threw his head back with a sigh, displeased to find himself still breathing. Last night he had been on the cusp of reaching some place better. He remembered the calm peace that had swept through him. Perfect accord and tranquility had taken everything bad away and nothing had mattered. He remembered wanting to go further into whatever it was. He had wanted to leave this life and this world behind. He didnt want to be dragger back, and thats exactly how it felt, like he was drug back into his mangled body. Why didnt they just let him die?
His glance fell on a woman leaned in the doorway, humbly smiling at him. She looked to be in her 50s. "How are you feeling today Seth?"
Seth shook his head as tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. If he could talk he would ask her why he was still there.
"Youre very lucky," she spoke moving closer to him, "You just about didnt make it."
Not making it had been his point. He didnt wish to be alive. He didnt want to be strapped to the bed like some insane person. He didnt want to have his jaw wired shut anymore. He didnt want to be an orphan. He began figiting about, trying to free his hands.
"The restraints are just standard procedure after someone..." She paused and looked more closely at him. "Im Mrs. Rhodes. Im a psychiatrist. I know we cant talk today, but your jaw will be healed in a few more weeks and we will begin having sessions."
Seth looked away crying. He didnt want any sessions. He jerked at his arms and kicked his legs as indistinct mumbles came from behind his locked teeth. He just wanted to be free from this life.
"Seth," Mrs. Rhodes spoke with a calm soothing voice as she gently placed a hand on his chest, "calm down. You will only hurt yourself. I know youre angry. You just have to accept that this is just the way things are right now. I promise that one day it will be better."
Seth rest his head back on the pillows with tears streaming from his eyes. He didnt want to accept this. He just wanted the shit to stop. He had been right there at the jumping off point but someone grabbed him in mid air and brought him back to this cruel world he despised. Why didnt they just let him go? Why bring him back to this? Didnt he have any say in this? It was his life, wasnt it?
May 1998
Phoenix, Arizona
Mrs. Rhodes sat at her desk and watched Seth fidgiting with the sleeves on the long sleeved shirt he was wearing. She knew he was adjusting them to cover his scars. "Its May Seth," she said watching him, "arent you hot?"
Seth shook his head and tried to relax a bit. It was difficult for her to peg Seth. He never said much in their sessions. She never could get him to talk about the things that had happened to him. He just froze up at her questions. Sometimes he ignored them outright. Sometimes he gave her a generic answer. He would answer with a question. He would tell her what he knew she wanted to hear. Maybe he had forced the memories from his mind. It was much easier for children to bloc out bad things.
She had learned a great deal from his files. Any one could see he had been through alot. His father abandoned him as an infant. His mother barely kept a roof over his head. She was known to have been a prostitute. She had drug and alcohol problems. Then at only 8 Seth came home from school and discovered her dead body. But he wouldnt talk about his mom. He did whatever he could to keep her out of his head. The only thing she really managed to learn from the sessions was that Seth loved the outdoors. He liked hunting. He had a deep admiration for his late grandfather Donovan. Other than that his brain was a closed book. Seth was not your typical child. His grammar was that of an uneducated child but his thought process wasnt. He talked and thought more like an adult. He was quite mature for his age. He understood things in was that children shouldnt be able to. When you looked into his eyes it was like looking at an old soul. His 13 year old eyes had seen alot and it was written all over him in scars.
He was unique. He could easily lead you to believe he was 15 or 16. He knew what people expected from him. He was very good at sizing you up and telling you all about yourself, almost psychic. Mrs. Rhodes never told Seth she was divorced, but he knew. She never spoke of her children but he knew from the pictures on her desk that her daughter was a Norte Dame cheerleader and that her son was married with two boys. She never expressed when she had a headace but he always seemed to know. He never saw her get in and out of her car but knew she drove a Nissan Maxima. She never told him her favorite color, but one day out of the blue he lay yellow flowerd from the grounds on her desk and said, "They's ya favorite color."
"Are you trying to hide your scars?" she asked.
He only glanced down at his wrists in silence. He seemed to be such a shy boy, afraid perhaps, not that he would show it. He was extremely gifted at suppressing his emotions. He seemed Vulcan in the way he felt that emotion only caused problems. It was difficult to treat him with such a high wall around him. She only caught a true glimpse of him every once in a blue moon. She had only seen him smile once. It was a beautiful smile. He had laughed once and she had been surprised at how deep it was. She knew his soul was tortured but he put on this ellaborate outward presentation that everything was fine.
"Are you starting to regret what you did?"
Seth sighed deeply, "Da only thang I regret is they's saved me." Even the way he spoke was unique. He had horrible grammar, but it was mixed with a New York twang. He had never been there in his life. His voice hadnt cracked in months and was quite deep for a 13 year old.
She opened her top drawer, "Here," she said tossing two black athletic wrist bands on the desk. "I asked around, they say that since the accident you try to hide the scars."
Seth picked one up and pondered why she called it an accident. It had been anything but accidental.
"Why would you do that if you werent ashamed?
He slid on one of the bands, "I's aint ashamed."
"Then why hide the scars?"
"Cuz," he snapped and pulled on the other wrist band with a sigh, "In 'ere it'd jus get my ass kicked." He looked down shaking his head, "I caint take no mo fightin'."
It was quite for a moment as Mrs. Rhodes flipped through some papers on her desk. "Theyre placing you with Mr. and Mrs. Greenwyn in a month."
"any otha fostahs?" he asked
"No but they have a 16 year old daughter."
"They's know bout dis?" he asked holding his wrists up.
"No. They dont know about the accident."
Seth huffed. Accident?
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