Beaver was sure that he was dead, but he cracked his eye open to brightness. He tried to breath but something was wrong with his nose, he started to panic but realized that he was in fact breathing, raged breaths through his dried throat. Despite the fact that his nose was fucked up, he could smell the bleach that was in the air, or it smelled close enough and he found that he could taste it in the back of his throat.
He tried to look around, but he knew that he didn't have his glasses, everything was blurry. He was sure he could see blinds covering a window, a closed door with a big window like they had in school. But the bright overhead lights caused his eye to water and made it worse. So he moved his head back and forth, trying to see everything at once and understand. He knew that he would never be a smart as Henry and Jonesy, but he wasn't brain dead, at least he didn't think so. Well, maybe... because this was a pisser of an idea.
It made him dizzy; like he was on a roller coaster that got stuck at the top of the loop and he was now hanging upside done, all the blood in his body rushed from his toes to the top of his head. It was like his head was shoved in the sand and he was constantly in motion. Maybe any other time it would have been fun for the Beav, like when he and the gang rolled down a big hill like idiots and fools.
The Beav needed to steady himself despite the fact that he was sure he was laying horizontal on a lumpy bed. He reached out with both hands; his right one connected to cold metal and he clutched it, there was something that was clasped around his index finger and it clanked against the bar railing; His left hand didn't have as much luck, it was heavy and blocky, and he found that his fore arm up to his elbow was heavier than it should have been. He wasn't able to wrap his hand around it and could only hold the railing with the tips of his fingers.
It took the spunky Beav great effort to lift his head and his arm at the same time, they felt like lead. He was struggling and all he could see was a blob of white wrapped around his arm. He was panting when he finally dropped back down to the bed. It was probably a minute before he tried moving again; he was smart enough not to try and sit up or anything as Jesus-Christ-bananas! as that, not with the way he felt, and he couldn't give a shitter if he was weak because of it. He used his right arm to feel around him and he could feel the thing on his finger pulling as well as the flesh on his elbow. They were restricting his movements and he needed to get them off. It took more effort than it should have to get the thing off his finger, he eventually scrapped it off using the bar. "Fuck me Freddie," he gasped in relief. But now there was a one syllable beep that was constant and it hurt his ears, not helping the way that his head felt.
The Beav was about to try and find the source when the door with the window burst open with enough force to bang against the wall as at least three people, all in different colours, rushed into the room like a stampede, one of them shoving a chart in front. The Beaver let out a shriek of surprise at the sudden action and in the back of the teen's mind he was glad no one he knew was here to hear it because it sounded suspiciously like a girl. But that was the problem right now. His eyes darted between the three people that were suddenly frozen out of action.
The older man with the white coat and green pyjamas underneath had a relieved smile on his gray bearded face as he stepped up to the side of the Beav's bed. "Joe?" his voice friendly, but the Beav still had his suspicions. "My name is Dr. Pierce." The Hospital; that made sense because he was feeling fuck-a-duck sick. "You're in The Hospital." he pointed out as if he knew Beaver wasn't just in the Math for Living Class, but everything else too. "Can I fix the beeping?" he asked.
Beaver glanced down at his hand, knowing that knocking that thing off was what caused it, and he nodded. Pierce bent over and took the heart monitor finger clamp and put it back on his index finger, the beeping stopped suddenly and that instant silence still left the Beav's ears ringing.
"Okay?" Pierce asked, and the Beav nodded as least as he could. Without looking at the others, the doc waved his hand the two in pink and blue pyjama’s left with the cart dragging behind them. The Beav wasn't sure, but he was thinking that that was what doctors used on dead people; the thought didn't make him comfortable. "I'm just going to check you over and then I'll give your parents a call and let them know that you're awake, okay, Joe?"
Beaver nodded once again; no one really called him 'Joe' anymore; not even the teacher, except the principal and his mom. But he decided not to tell the doc this. Pierce flashed a light in his good eye first before he peeled the blackened and swollen eye lid from the Beav's other eye, it left it watering. Then he put the cuff around his upper arm and squeezed that bulb until the cuff was left strangling his arm. But that wasn't the worst of it, and the Beav was kinda scared.
He had multiple gashes on his head that were sealed with stitches, a definite concussion; multiple in fact. His face was covered in bruises, scrapes, and shallow lacerations that extended to his lips and tongue. His right eye were swollen shut and his nose had been broken just like Richie Grenadeau's had been two months before, but this wasn't from an accident, it had been done out of revenge. His arm had been broken in several places, and not cleanly; the docs had to put him under and put it back together with pins before the cast could be put on. He had two cracked ribs, internal bruising, and kidney bruising.
Pierce scribbled on the clip board that was at the foot of the Beav's bed. "Everything checks out, you're doing great, Joe. I’m going to contact your parents now." and he left Beaver's room.
But now that the Beav knew that his parents were coming, and he was now awake and aware, he was starting to panic a little. What was he going to tell his mom? He was all she had after his brother left. Was he going to tell them the truth or was he going to lie? He and the gang had never told their parents about how they had befriended Duddits and about Richie Grenadeau; none of them knew of the threat that big boy said. Were his parents going to get the cops? And what about Henry, Jonesy and Pete?
The Beav looked around him, the room that he was in wasn't very big, but he didn't care about that. He needed one of his toothpicks, he needed it between his teeth. He usually kept a pack in his Fonzie jacket, but that was nowhere in sight. It was his most prized possession and Richie Grenadeau had ruined it. There was nothing else in the room that he could use to replace it. There was no way that he was going to be able to get up, he couldn't even sit up right now. The only thing that he had in his arsenal were his finger nails. He didn't have the energy to hold up his casted arm, so he had to deal with the needle in his elbow and the clasp on his finger. His nails were dirty and ringed with blood-- his blood. He forced himself to ignore it because Fuck him Freddy, he needed something or he'd go off on a pisser. It didn't matter that his whole face was throbbing and that the movement of his jaw wasn't helping him feel better.
He'd finished all the fingers that were available to him on his right hand by the time that his parents got to the hospital and he was tempted, despite the way that he felt, to start on his left. But thankfully, his mother distracted him.
"Joe!" Nancy Clarendon cried as she rushed to the bed, her hands hovering over him, trying to find an uninjured spot to clutch at him.
"I'm okay, mom." The Beav told her, finally holding up his right hand; she grabbed it like a life line.
His dad, Lamar Clarendon, was right behind his mother, but not teary-eyed. Beaver didn't expect him to be, Lamar was more of a man's man, not best friends with emotion like his mother. "Glad you're okay, kid." he gave the Beav a pat on the shoulder followed by a squeeze. The Beav gave his father a smile as much as he could without reopening the cuts on his lips.
It wasn't long before Dr. Pierce returned, but not before Nancy had lowered the railing on the right side of the bed and set her rump down for the haul, her son's hand still clutched in hers, her eyes wet.
"How is he, doctor?" Nancy asked, her voice wet.
"He's doing better than I originally thought." Pierce had admitted. "He has a broken arm and nose, the former of which that we had to use pins on. He has two cracked ribs, multiple lacerations and head wounds. He also has internal damage, some that had be directed at both of his kidneys. I would like to keep Joe for a few more days to keep an eye on his progress."
"A few more days?" Lamar said.
"Yes!" The Beav's mother glared at her husband. "He's going to stay here as long as he needs to, Lamar, and every penny that it costs is worth it!" Beaver didn't say anything because he knew that his father didn't mean it in that way, and when his mother calmed down, she would too. Nancy looked at the doctor. "I'm sorry," she told him.
"It's alright," Pierce gave them a small smile before he left them, closing the door.
"The police?" Nancy asked her husband, looking up at him with apologetic eyes.
"I called them before we left," he told her.
"The police?" The Beav demanded, finally speaking up. "What?"
"Honey, what happened to you was not an accident, and whoever did this is not going to hurt you anymore." Nancy told her son gently.
"You can't be afraid of this, Beaver." Lamar told him in a stern voice.
"I-I wanna talk to my friends first." the Beav protested.
"Your friends can visit you later," his mother told him, "you need to rest."
"I said no, Joe." her voice was hard, and he was quiet. "When the police arrive, you're going to tell them what happened. Then you're going to rest. Your little friends can visit tomorrow if need be."
Beaver's lips were tight after that. He supposed that it was better this way. If Richie wasn't taken care of, Henry, Jonesy and Pete would be in danger. It's not like when they saved Duddits, that they did anything wrong. There was no reason to protect Richie, not after what he did. A boy who did something like this was deeply disturbed. Fuckarow, it really sounded like Henry was up in his noggin.
When the police officer arrived, the Beav couldn't help the nervousness he felt, and what may have made it worse was that his parents stayed in the room; something to do with the fact that he wasn't 18 yet, bogus. But he told them everything, about Richie with Duddits, the threat, and the part that his friends played... minus all of his Beaver-isms obviously.
His mother was angry with him for a second that he never told her any of this, but it soon wore off because she was afraid for him and wanted that other boy put in jail. The cop left after taking his statement and his mother ordered him to rest after the Beav made one last plea to see his friends, but he didn't mind closing his eyes and falling asleep, he was haggard even though he barely did a thing these last few hours.
The Beav slept just fine while his parents were in the room, but after he felt the kiss that his mother left on his cheek before her and his father left. After that, Richie Grenadeau took over his dreams and it wasn't good.
He first relived the day that the four of them ran into Duddits while at the Tracker Brothers old freight and storage building, but this time they weren't able to stop Richie. Duddits ate the dog-turd and choked on it. Pete went to run, but he miss-stepped, twisted his ankle and fell to the ground with a pained grunt. Duncan and Scott swarmed him like bees; when they were done, blood covered the ground and Pete was not longer moving. Henry and Jonesy were yelling, grabbing onto each other and they tried to dodge around the two football players with no luck. They met the same fate as Pete. Then all at once, as if they were controlled by strings, Richie, Duncan, and Scott all turned to the Beav. The Beav who was frozen, unable to move with all of his friends’ dead bodies scattered around him like dead flies. His breath was hard to come, his nose was working like doodlyfuck. His vision was blurry, his glasses were gone. Then everything went sideways, as his whole body seemed to go vertical. He hurt, oh God, everywhere! He was struggling, but he couldn't go anywhere. Then he heard the whisper as a trio of trouser zippers where tugged down. Then it was like he was laying down in the tub while the showerhead was on— almost. It was like an unending shower of urine, and there was nothing he could do to stop it as it soaked his hair, ran into his ears, stung his eyes, burned down his nostrils, and choked down his throat.
The Beav gasped awake with a cry of fear. He jerked upward, his back arching, and this time it was a cry of pain. Despite the fact that he could barely move because of the binding that wrapped around his chest under the gown it still hurt. His hair was wet and so was his face, his scabbed lacerations stung with it. The Beav's hand was shaking as he reached to his face and wiped the wetness. He smelt it and breathed a sigh of relief; it wasn't Richie's urine, it was his own tears. He was crying and he couldn't seem to stop. It was hard with his nose, despite being broken it was getting snotty, and that was making it difficult to breath.
The Beav was wheezing but had finally stopped crying, it was hard on his face and worse on his ribs. It had made him exhausted and his eye kept fluttering shut, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. He knew that he wouldn't be cutting anywhere anymore and probably sleep either; not as long as Richie Grenadeau was running around up there like he owned the place.
It was dark, the only light leaked through the window in the door and he watched that change; dozing in and out until it was morning. The nurse checked in on him first thing, then they gave him a tray of hospital food— he wasn't very hungry. His parents came as early as they were allowed; his father couldn't stay that long because had to go to work, but his mother had all the time in the world, it seemed— which was not good news to the Beav. He didn't want his mom, he wanted his best buds.
It was the afternoon by the time that Nancy finally left, she had do some shopping again and promised that she would be back in a few hours. The Beav took this opportunity to finally see his friends. There was a phone in his room, but he had to do some stretching in order to get it. It was worth it though, getting tangled in leads, fumbling with his casted arm. But he got it!
But now that he had it, the Beav didn't know who he should call first. Not Pete. Probably Henry, right? He was basically the leader. Yeah. Hopefully the cops had dealt with Richie by now. The Beav dialled Henry Devlin's number and held the receiver to his ear as it rang.
"Mrs. Devlin? This is Joe, is Henry there?"
"Sorry, Joe. He's out with his friends."
"Okay. Thanks," The Beav was quick to hang up. He was sure that they would be at Henry's. Did they... did they even know about what happened to him? The Beav took a breath and picked it up again, this time putting in Jonesy's number.
"Mr. Jones? Is Jonesy there?"
"Sorry, kid. He's out."
The Beav clicked off before he pounded in Pete's number, they had to be there. But it rang and it rang. No one was there. The phone was heavy when he put it down. He tried not to panic; there was still Duddits. Roberta Cavell would answer, he knew that that gorgeous woman would.
"Hello?" Alfie Cavell answer.
"Mr. Cavell, it's Beaver."
"Oh, sorry, guy. Doug is out with Roberta."
So where in the fuckarow were they? The Beav was sure that he would know, would feel it if one of them dickweeds bit the bag, was sure of it. But despite that, it took him a while to calm down. That only being accomplished when he felt the sharp pain of his full bladder; he had to take a long needed piss.
It took longer than the Beav realized to get out of the bed. He basically had half a hand to him, and just getting the railing down was a fight. He tried kicking at it in his frustration and twinged his ribs in the process, letting out a whimper of pain. "Bite my bag!" The Beav told the metal, whacking it with his casted arm, sending a shock through his bones. He held his arm to his chest, his eyes wet. He just wanted to take a piss, was that so hard to ask? He tried again after he took the clamp from his finger, and this time there was no death beep. He breathed deep because now he had a whole hand to work with, despite the needle it his elbow.
The Beav twisted around until his bare legs hung over the side of the bed, before he slid forward and feet touched ice cold tile. He sucked in a breath but kept his feet planted as he wiggled his toes and pushed off. His open gown billowed around his small naked body as he grabbed onto the rod that held the clear bag of his painkillers.
The Beav patted across the floor, grabbing his glasses from beside the phone and slipped them on his face as he went to the small bathroom that was at the corner of his room. It didn't even have a real door on it, just one of the folded plastic ones, and it took some figuring to get the rack into the small room with it; the door was stuck, it only closed a quarter of the way so he just left it. The Beav tried not to look into the mirror, but to get to the john he had to go passed it. He was quick to look away though; his was covered in scabs, the whole middle of his face was taped up, swollen and angry looking, his right eye was swollen and bruised, his other one black, the skin was no longer tan but an assortment of bruises, and his head was wrapped in bandages. He had no intention of finding out what the rest of him looked like, but he had to in order to take a piss.
The Beav gathered up the gown and tucked it up under his chin so that it wasn't in the way and now he might as well not be wearing anything at all. He could see that bandage that was wrapped around his chest and the coloured bruises that escaped from underneath it. The Beav closed his eyes from a moment before he took hold of his prick and aimed it at the toilet; it was a little hard with his cast.
The Beav knew that he had to piss, but he couldn't seem to go. Had he grown to fear urine because of what happened with that Richie bastard? No one was afraid of piss, the Beav wasn't afraid of piss! The Beav ground his teeth hard as he pushed. "Stop being a pussy, you bag!" he growled at his prick. He was sure that his teeth were gonna darn right break, but finally a yellow stream left his tip and the Beav sighed in relief.
The Beav was nearly done. But he was sure he heard someone in his room. "Hello?" The Beav called out as his stream paused, but there was no answer as he gazed in the direction of the door. He let out a breath and his stream continued for ten seconds longer. And now, this was the most comfortable he felt since he woke up in this place; he gave his prick a shake.
"BEAV!!" was a chorus of three at the door behind him, and the Beav gave a scream as he jumped back against the wall, his gown falling back around him.
The Beav looked and found Pete, Henry and Jonesy crowding the doorway, the biggest grins on their lips.
"What the fuckarow are you guys doing here?" The Beav demanded with heat as he stomped towards them, the three backed away. The Beav continued forward, at the moment forgetting to flush and about his hands.
The grins dropped from Henry, Pete and Jonesy's faces.
"We thought that you'd be happy to see us, foolish." Henry said.
"I am, fuckwad!" Beaver agreed.
"Okay..." Jonesy prodded with confusion.
God; the Beav couldn't believe how doodlyfuck these guys were being, Grenadeau was out there-- Richie Grenadeau! "Don't you get it?" the Beav demanded. Their expressions said that they clearly didn't. "Richie!" he shrieked. "He's a psychopath, and you chum the streets? Look what he did to me!"
"Beav..." Henry's voice was soft, not with pity, but with care, Jonesy and Pete carried similar expressions; like they knew something the Beav clearly didn't. Henry put a hand on the Beav's narrow shoulder.
"What?" The Beav demanded, desperate, taking everything from that hand.
"The cops came to our houses and we told them everything. When our parents found out, they didn't let us out, but today, like an hour ago, they arrested Richie." Jonesy told him proudly.
"Whuh?" was all the Beav could come up with.
"Apparently they talked to Duncan and that Scotty kid, they spilled like a carton of milk." Pete filled in, a satisfied smirk on his face; he knew that those two were pussies.
"He's gone?" Beav asked, breathless.
"He's gone," Henry repeated for him, knowing that was what his best friend needed.
Now this was the best moment that he felt for two months, no more Richie Grenadeau to haunt his dreams and his life. He wanted to cry, and was pretty sure that he was; his glasses fogging up. Henry, Pete and Jonesy crowded in for a group hug. Henry and Jonesy connected their foreheads with the Beav's, while Pete's chin found its way to the back of his shoulder.
"You naked under here?" Pete smirked as he looked down and found that the Beav's gown was open.
"What?" the Beav asked, his voice watery. He tried to move, but three sets of arms were holding him in place. And then he saw the set of smirks on Henry and Jonesy and dread came over him.
"If I'd known you were hiding this Josephine, I would have taken action a lot sooner!" Pete gave the Beav's ass a hardly slap, grab and jiggle.
The Beav let out a squawk, struggling free from his best friends' hold as they burst into laugher, holding their stomachs with it.
"You guys are freaks!" The Beav yelled at them, rushing to close the back of his gown, but he found himself smiling even after being violated. Because this was normal; Pete being a pervert. He'd done this to everyone of them at one point or another; and they'd each got chicks names for their troubles: The Beav was Josephine; Jonesy was the beautiful Gariella, and Henry was rightfully named Henrietta.
"Don't count yourself short." Jonesy grinned and the three of them swooped in again like a mob. The Beav took the hugging and the back patting, despite the pain because they were all freaks, and now they didn't have to worry about Richie Grenadeau.