Love Like A Delinquent (Remake)

Untitled Part 28

There was shuffling and pleading and I tried to keep up with everything but one minute I could feel myself being shoved around and the next I was face down one a seat. We were in a car. We were in a car right? Suddenly my head was grabbed again and I screamed out in pain again as I was thrown to one side of the car. I felt the weight shift on the seat and tried to make out who was next to me but being sat up was making my vision even worse and I couldn't hold back as I threw up again.

"John your kid's throwing up on me!"

"Are you seriously complaining about that right now, Paul?"

John, that was John and he sounded far away. He was in the front. That meant it was Paul in the back with me?

"Paul..?" I tried, coughing up the rest of the bile in my throat.

"What do I do with him?"

"Check his head, that's where most of the blood is coming from. Use his shirt as a tourniquet or something before we can get to a safe place." John growled. A gun was cocked. "Lady, you drive in the exact directions I give you and you'll live. Try and get out of this and I'll shoot you. You understand?"

I cried out again when there was tugging at my head. I tried to scream but the noises weren't coming out anymore. Was I even crying out?

"Fuck, John, he's losing too much blood. The cut's too big, I don't know how to-"

"Just keep him alive!"

"John I dunno, it's pretty bad. Shit, I think he's gonna pass out-"

I tried to keep my eyes open, tried to speak, tried to find out who we were in the car with, what was happening outside, what was happening to me. Everything kept getting worse though. The spinning, the blur, the noises that were now sounding distant. The last thing I heard was a women crying before I gave up.*

{ k a t }

We were all sat around the tv, not one of us making a sound. On the screen was the news, and on the news was a video. The video had been recorded by a man who was a witness to a crime. And instead of helping assist to that crime, he'd made a video. Presumably he'd been paid to sell this video. And now he was a couple hundred buck richer and my boyfriend was in the hands of a murderer.

I watched on the screen as a shaky camera phone recorded a a battered and bruised boy on the ground. His arms were held behind was back and he was face down on the road. There was a man walking towards him, shaking and reeking of anger. And then he was kicking the boy in the head over and over again. That boy was my boyfriend, was my Hunter. And that man was his Dad. After John kicked his head at least 7 more times, each one forcing a guttural scream from Hunter's mouth, John forced him up into his arms and held him tightly even as he threw up violently. Ripping a gun out of nowhere, John shot into the air and smiled crazily as witnesses all backed down. He was screaming now, it was the only thing audible even though you could faintly make out the onlookers concern for Hunter. No one moved to make a difference though.The Police Officer that had been round the house, the one that had betrayed us and led Hunter to John, he was there. He grabbed a women as John threatened her and all too quickly Hunter was thrown into the back of a car. That was the last the video and we all saw of him.

He was bruised like fuck. Blood, tears, dirt and gravel all stained his face. His short was torn and the joggers he wore were wet and dirty. All I could think of was the slashes on his body we were shown in the pictures.I'd blanked out.I didn't even notice we were all discussing the video.

"I want it down. I want it off the internet, off the tv. When Hunter gets home I don't want that to be up to remind him of this. I-"

Chris was rambling again. Ever since the phone call, he hadn't really stopped. Even I couldn't get him to stop. But then I'd only tried once. The rest of the time I'd been trying to contain myself. I was sure everyone in the room could smell the vodka on me but it was doing nothing to dull my pain. Maybe this was how Hunter felt all the time, maybe that's why he always drunk so much because a couple of shots couldn't do anything to help.

"I need a smoke," I announced. My Mom looked at me like I was worse than John. "Don't give me that look. I smoke with Hunter all the time when I'm upset."

"Think I'll join you," Chris spoke up. I wasn't expecting that but I didn't care really.

Nothing shocked me anymore. I barely registered the walk from the front room to the steps outside the house. I sat down, taking Hunter's old and rusty hit flask out from where I'd been hiding it under his torn up shirt that I was hugging. There wasn't much left in but I knew where the rest of Hunter's stash was. He'd want me to have it, I guess.

"Don't let your Mom know you're drinking," Chris advised, sitting down next to me. I took a swig, not even scrunching my face up at the taste because nothing burnt like losing Hunter now.

"I'd offer you some but you're old enough to go buy your own," I mumbled. I pulled Hunter's packet of cigarrettes out of my pocket and held back the tears when I saw the smiley face he'd drawn on the inside of the packet. I lit it effortlessly before passing both items to Chris. I never knew he'd smoked.

"Do you think we should do sometihng more?" I asked between a puff. "Like, when the police have leads. Do you think we should go check it out? We can't do fuck all sat here. If we wanna help we can at least-""

At least what?" Chris laughed. "Even if we knew where they're headed, what we even do? We'd run in, get killed and that'd leave Hunter with nothing left to hang onto."

"I just can't sit here and get drunk every night,"

"Then don't,"

"But I have nothing left." I admitted, tears filling my eyes. It had only been 20 minutes since I'd last cried. "I can't bare to think about what John's doing to him, Chris. You know what he used to do. And you know the state he's in right now. I can't let myself think of it but then Hunter's living it. How selfish is that,"

"Not selfish," Chris sighed. "It's human."

"Guess so," I mused. "Do you think we'll get him back? Honestly?"

There was a long pause, longer than I would have liked. I don't think I even breathed during it. Just sat and watched the end of my ciggarrette, wondering if even that would make me feel if I pressed it up against my skin. Even if it would hurt, it wouldn't hurt as much as Chris' confession.

"I don't know anymore, Kat."

*

I sat awake in bed at 7.30 in the morning, torturing myself repeatedly by searching John Storm on the internet. I'd read the same article about the whole case, now recently updated due to circumstances and tried to put my finger on anything that would help. Their old house had been investigated and there was nothing there. That was my first guess, being completely new to this.

I knew the story off by heart now. It had been a particularly shit day in the Storm house, a visit from John's Dad had stirred something, and next thing John shot his wife. He was arrested and Hunter was taken away. I couldn't stop dwelling on it.

Eventually, after 20 minutes of considering it, I searched the internet for Gerard Storm, John's Dad. Most of the articles brought up were related to John but after a few pages on google, I found a link to a car repair store not that far away from where we lived. I didn't bother reading the information, just scrolled down to contact details; relieved to find a phone number. Grabbing my cell, I typed out the digits with my breath increasing on each one.I was completely silent as the tone rang.

"Hello, Gerard here."

"My Storm?" I questioned, hearing a short hum of approval in the background. "My name is Kat Taylors. I need to talk to you about your son."