Chapter 5

He stayed in the hospital for three days, test after test were done and getting any real information out of the staff was almost impossible. He resorted to pushing, forcing the doctor to trust him, that he was his friend, his confidant, before he could overcome the man's professional reticence.

The tests all came back normal except for a cat scan that showed an abnormal swelling in his occipital lobe, just over his left eye. Where the pain had been, both in the hallway fight at school and at the mall. The other boys, the ones that had lived, had the same swelling in the same place. They were awake, but said they couldn't remember anything after getting to the mall.

The police came and questioned him, taking him through his evening at the mall, step by step. Trying to get him to remember anything. Had he seen anyone acting suspiciously? Had he seen any unattended packages? Had he heard, or smelled, or felt anything odd?

Again and again they made him go through the events of the evening. James kept it simple, told the exact truth right up until the event, then told the same story he had told his parents.

Someone from the government questioned him too. He was from the CDC, the Centers for Disease Control, and his questions focused on what he had seen, smelled, felt. He seemed to think that it was something they ingested. It turned out that the three boys had also had dinner at the food court, and the CDC man took down a list of everything James and the girls ate and drank.

Finally, tests done, questions asked, they allowed him to go home. They were convinced it was something in the food, but James knew better. He knew that he had killed someone and almost killed two more. It would be a long time before his own questions were answered, and he had no one to help him.

Returning to school was surreal. As he walked through the hallways, people would stop and stare, whispers followed him wherever he went. A few hardier souls asked him about that night, but he stuck with his story, telling everyone the same tale.

A few days later, he saw the two survivors, and they seemed physically ok. When they saw him though, they would turn pale and walk the other way. Neither of them would look him in the eye, and neither of them seemed inclined to interact with him at all. His empathic senses, when he directed them to the boys, came back with fear, a desire to avoid him, an overwhelming need to be somewhere else.

James let them be, preferring to stay as far away from them as possible. The guilt over what he had done ate at him, the thought that he could cold-bloodedly kill someone using just his mind scared the hell out of him. What if he did it to someone by accident? Someone he like, or loved. What if it was Zoe?

He had been putting off Zoe in class, not answering if she called the house and even had his mother turn her away two days in a row when she came by the house. He couldn't bear what she must think of him, of what he had done.

He didn't sleep well. His dreams filled with replays of the boys at the mall, dreams filled with dozens, hundreds of dead bodies strewn across the walkways, on the escalators, the food court. Dreams where he walked among the dead, looking for more victims.

He began getting up early, running until he had to practically drag himself home. Then, after school, he would enter the weight room and work out, spend countless hours on the bag until he couldn't lift his arms, just so he would be too exhausted to dream. Sometimes he slept there, on the weight bench or the hard floor, too exhausted to brave the stairs.

He lost weight, his body fat dropping precipitously, and he worked even harder, burning muscle away. That angered him and just made him work even more, a vicious cycle that had his parents frantic.

When Stacy appeared at the front door one Saturday morning, James's mother answered, pale and drawn, worried and preoccupied, she just stared at the unfamiliar woman on the step. "Yes?"

"Where is he? Is he here? I want to see him now." Stacy snarled.

"What? Who are you? Who do you want to see? Ada replied, confused.

"I am Stacy Stanton, Zoe's sister and the who is your jerk of a son, that's who! You can go and get him or I can stand here and scream until he comes out or the cops haul me away. The choice is his."

Ada Anderson stared at the angry young lady and nodded. This might be a good thing, it might be bad, but if something didn't happen she and her husband would have to stop putting off a decision on whether he needed more help than they could give. He might need to be institutionalized, or she feared she would lose her son.

She stood back, gestured for Stacy to come inside, then led her back to the weight room where James was spending all his time. She didn't go in, she couldn't stand to see him punish himself, and his snarls and curses at any interruption made her want to weep.

"It's not pretty." Ada said, laying her hand on Stacy's arm before she could open the door. "His father and I are talking to a doctor on Monday. We may be sending him to a..." she sobbed, "a facility where they can help him." Tears streaming down her face, she turned away, rushing back towards the front of the house.

Stacy, stunned and her anger melting away, was suddenly fearful of what she would find inside. Only her love for her sister gave her the determination to open the door.

"Get out! Get the fuck out mum!" a tortured growl sounded as soon as the door cracked open, but Stacy didn't stop. Inside, the place reeked of sweat and body odor, old moldy towels and ... something familiar, something...

She saw him and was shocked to her core. He was standing, nude, the sweat pouring off of him and curling a bar that weighed more than she did. His face was locked in rictus of pain as he lifted the bar again and again and again. His legs trembling, sweat pouring off of him, and most horrifying of all, the source of that familiar smell. Blood. Blood was pouring from his nose, was seeping from his tear ducts, staining his chest and belly, dripping on the floor. Little drops were spattering everything around him when the weight bar would intercept the falling stream.

He looked like he was chiseled from iron, not an ounce of fat on his body. His muscles stood out in stark relief and his skin seemed so thin that you could see the blood in his veins. His belly was all ridges and rolls, his ribs pronounced under the slabs of muscle that covered them.

He didn't pause his routine, his breath coming in sobs, but he snarled at her. "What do you want? Why are you here? Come to see the FREAK??" the last work was a scream, filled with pain and anger.

Stacy wanted to weep. She wanted to run from the room and never look back, to hide under her bed and hope this nightmare would fade in the morning, but she couldn't. She could see why his mother looked so pale and drawn. She could see that he was killing himself, and he couldn't seem to stop it.

Taking a deep breath, she walked up to him, blood droplets staining her shirt and, with all of her strength, she slapped him as hard as she could.

James staggered back, lost his balance and fell backwards. The curl bar slipped from his fingers and just missing doing serious damage to both him and to Stacy. He sat there, shocked, staring up at the pale, angry and determined face above him.

His mind, exhausted and confused, couldn't work out what had just happened. All he saw was Stacy, her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"James. You are killing yourself, and you are killing Zoe. Why? Why would you do this? Why would you hurt an innocent girl who is deeply in love with you?"

"Zoe? Is Zoe hurt? How? Who hurt her? I'll fucking kill him!"

"You did, you asshole! YOU hurt her. You are killing her, just like you are killing yourself. You want to commit suicide? Fine, but you can't treat my sister like this, you can't torture her." Tears were streaming down Stacy's cheeks now, sobs shaking her shoulders and her hand, pointed at James like a gun, shook as well.

"I ... I'm not, I can't ... I sent her home, away, away from me. To protect her, to keep her safe. I'm not safe. I'm not ... I love her, but I can't protect her from me." James said, his voice pleading. "I can't!"

Stacy knelt down, her knees in the puddle of blood, and held out a hand to James. "You don't need to protect her, you idiot. You need to love her. She needs you now. She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep, she is not even going to school. We had to hide all the pills, the knives ... we are afraid she is going to do something horrible. She cries all the time, weeps and calls for you. She needs you, James. She needs you to be there, to be healthy, to love her. You can't do that if you are dead or in some mental hospital."

"Look, I don't know what happened, but you need to talk to someone. You need to get this out, and who better than Zoe? I think you can save each other."

James stared at her hand, his eyes full of unshed tears. His own hand twitched, then again. Finally, he reached out, grasped her hand. "For Zoe."

Stacy got him up, and made him put on a pair of filthy shorts before leading him up to his room. She walked him into the bathroom, stripped the shorts off of him herself and sat him down on the toilet while she started the shower. When it was ready, she led him into the shower and pushed him under the stream of water.

Backing off, watching him stand there, she shook her head and began stripping off her clothes. Naked, she stepped in and began using her hands to sluice away the worst of the mess before grabbing the soap.

James was there, but not there. His mind was disconnected, trapped in a loop. He didn't want to think, didn't want to feel, and the only way he knew how to not do those things was to make himself so tired that he physically couldn't.

Zoe. Stacy said she needed him, that she was in trouble. Zoe needed him, but he was afraid. He stood there, trying to make sense of it as he watched, almost a third party, while Stacy washed his body. She was as naked as he was, and he barely noticed. The sight engendered no lust, no need, just a faint echo of things he had once considered important.

Stacy washed him, cleaning the blood from his face, his chest and belly, even his genitals. She was surprised to see that there was no reaction, not even an involuntary one as she soaped and handled his penis. Sighing, she finished with his body and hair, then reached for the a towel, only to find that James had reached for it too.

"Decided to help finally?" she whispered, feeling a little bit of hope.

"Stacy, I'm sorry. I'm a mess, a wreck. You shouldn't have to do this, to be here like this." James said, his face drawn and miserable.

Stacy hugged him, laying her head on his shoulder. "You jerk. You frightened the hell out of your parents you know. And me. I was getting very fond of you and I am pissed that I had to come over here today to kick your ass."

James patted her back awkwardly. "Stacy. I ... I don't know how. I am so lost. I am so scared." he said, sobs wracking his body as tears streamed from his eyes. His knees crumpled and Stacy helped him to the floor, afraid to let go.

They sat there, in the streaming water, and he cried, sobbed until the water ran cold and Stacy was forced to pull away long enough to shut it off. James just shivered, his face between his knees, tears still dripping to the shower floor.

When his sobs slowed, then stopped, Stacy got him up and dried. Drying herself quickly and getting dressed, she led him back into the bedroom and started handing him clothes. He dressed himself robotically, letting his body handle the familiar task but his mind obviously elsewhere.

"James, look at me." Stacy said holding his chin. When she had his attention, she continued. "I am glad you are letting me help you, but you need to talk about it. You can talk to me. I will listen for as long as it takes, but then we are going to my house. I need your help, James. Zoe needs your help."

James, his mind clear for the first time in weeks, nodded. He wrapped his arms around Stacy and kissed her cheek. "Thank you Stacy, but I think I owe it to Zoe. She and I ... She needs to be the one. She has to know, I have to explain."

Stacy kissed his cheek and stood back. "Good. Now get your ass in gear, we are leaving." She grinned, grabbing his arm like Zoe used to do, and walking him to the door.

James's mother stood silently in the kitchen as they came down the stairs, not saying anything, but exchanging a heartfelt look with Stacy as they passed. She smiled, her eyes filled with hope, as they left.

When Stacy opened the front door and entered, pulling James in behind her, Stewart was just coming down the stairs. His eyes blazed with anger and he blocked their path.

"What the hell is he doing here? Hasn't he caused enough trouble"

"Stewart, back off and stay the hell out of this!" Stacy snarled, standing between James and her step-father.

The yelling brought her mother scurrying from the kitchen, her face blotched and her eyes red from crying. She saw James's face, drawn, blotchy red, sickly and slightly crazed, then saw Stacy facing off with her husband, and instantly knew what was happening.

"You do not talk to me like that and you do NOT give orders in this house!" Stewart yelled, his face turning red and his fists clenched.

"Stewart!" His wife's voice cracked like a whip, startling all of them. "Back off."

He looked shocked, but whatever he saw in her eyes was enough to set him back on his heels. "Fine, I wash my hands with the whole thing." he grumbled, stalking into the living room and out of sight.

Stacy shot her mother a look of gratitude and nodded, grabbing James arm and pulling him up the stairs behind her.

Her mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand over her mouth and hope in her eyes, for a long time

Upstairs, Stacy pounded on Zoe's locked door. "Open up Zoe."

When there was no response, she pounded again. "Damn it, Zoe. Open this door or I swear to god I will break it down."

When she heard the click of the lock, Stacy shoved the door open, pushing Zoe back into the room. Grabbing James's arm, she shoved him through the door, closing it behind him and sinking to the ground, her own tears starting to flow.

Inside, James was shocked. Zoe looking thinner, and haggard. Her face was wan and drawn, her eyes red, her hair a tangled mess and her room was literally destroyed. She was looking at him in horror, tears streaming down her face.

"WHY?" she screamed at him, sobbing even harder. "Why do you hate me? What did I do wrong? Why did you leave me?" her screams tapered off to a horse groan and she fell to the floor, sobs wrenching her small frame.

James was horrified. He hurried to her, throwing himself on the floor and gathering her in his arms. He didn't speak, couldn't speak, his own sobs stealing his breath. They stayed like that until the sobs finally died, too exhausted to even cry any more. James just held her, wrapped in his arms, until they both slept.

Stacy sat there for a long time. How long, she didn't know, but it had gotten silent in the room behind her. She went down to the kitchen, hugged her mother and told her what she thought was happening, what she hoped was happening.

Fixing a tray with a pitcher of juice, sandwiches and some fruit, she quietly went back upstairs, her mother right behind her, and eased the door open. Inside, James and Zoe slept. He was leaning against the bed, Zoe cradled in his arms. Stacy breathed a sigh of relief and set the tray down before withdrawing, closing the door behind her. Outside the room, her mother cried silent tears of hope and she hugged Stacy fiercely.

James woke hours later, a little confused at first, shocked again at the state of Zoe's room. His arms and legs were painfully cramped, but he endured because she was still asleep, and he couldn't bear to set her down. He bent down and kissed the top of her head, murmuring softly.

"I am so sorry, baby. I love you. I have always loved you."

Zoe stirred, jerking awake in a moment of panic but, when she realized where she was, she looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "James?"

"I'm here baby, and I am never leaving again."

"What did I do wrong? Why, James?" tears started and slowly dripped down her face.

"You did nothing wrong, nothing, do you hear me? You were the perfect girlfriend. It was me, it was all me! I was scared for you, afraid that I would hurt you. I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you. You don't understand what a monster I am, Zoe."

Taking a deep breath, fighting back his own tears, he told her everything.