The Boy

The man stood there looking at the boy. His temper flared. “How could she do that to a child?” He mumbled softly as he gently moved the hair from the boy’s forehead. “Shh, it’s all over now.”

The boy sniffled as he lay in bed. His backside hurt something awful. The woman had never been this brutal before. He couldn’t remember a time when the woman hadn’t taken her hand to his backside, but this time she’d used something more than her hand. The punishment had started out with her hand and had progressed through several instruments finally ending with a thick switch from the tree in the front yard. That had been worse than any paddle, belt, or strap that he had felt over the years. The woman had laid down stroke after stroke on his already red and stinging backside. She hit the ‘sit’ spot over and over before moving down to cover the back of the thighs. The woman had said over and over during the brutal beating, “It’s your fault, it’s all your fault and you must pay. You must always pay.” The boy tried hard not to cry out or wiggle, this only made the woman madder. Instead he concentrated on thinking about getting away, far, far away from the woman and all the pain she inflicted daily.

The man silently cried as he watched the nurse apply an ointment to the back of the boy’s thighs. The doctor had said that the beating hadn’t broken any bones but the bruises were very deep and would take a long time to heal. He knew the boy wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for at least a week maybe more. He cursed himself for not getting home sooner. The woman should have never been allowed near the boy after the last time they’d ended up in the hospital. The last time the boy had suffered from a broken humerus and dislocated shoulder from a brutal twisting.

The boy had cried silently while sitting on the couch in the living room. He hadn’t succeeded that time either. All he could think about anymore was escape. Escape from the pain, the brutality, the overwhelming sadness that encompassed his young life. He couldn’t think of a time in all this twelve years that he hadn’t felt the sadness and the pain.

Fourteen years later

The man looked down at the battered body on the ground. A feeling came over him that tore at his heart. Memories long thought forgotten surfaced. He swallowed painfully past the lump that had formed in his throat and knelt down. He gently touched the hair on the boy’s head as he spoke words he now remembered hearing another time ago. “Shh, it’s all right. No one will hurt you again.” He knew that by saying these things he was possibly lying to the boy, but they were the only things to say.

Another man knelt down next to the boy. “What’s the deal?”

“Eleven-year-old male, beaten about the back, buttocks, and thighs, with what appears to be a belt or strap,” The first man started, ”Deep tissue bruising evident as well as broken skin on the back, possibly from a whip.” He took a deep breath in an effort to bring his emotions back in check. “Pulse is thready; bp is 85 over 50, respirations 16 and labored. He does respond to pain.”

The two men took care of the boy and got him to the hospital. Another young life saved because of the kindness of another. The man only hoped he never saw the scene he’d seen again.

Back in the past

The twelve-year-old sniffled as he lay in the hospital bed. The pain was still there, just not as close to the surface. The nurse had brought him a glass of juice and a pill earlier and he’d taken the pill with a little weariness. He didn’t think there would ever be a time when he could trust women again. Women equaled pain in this young boy’s brain. All he could do was lie on his stomach and think about how he’d come to be in the hospital for the third time in his life. He could remember all the times vividly in his mind. He didn’t like reliving the circumstances over and over and dreamed of a day when the nightmare would end. He hoped that his father would see his fear and save him. He’d been dreaming that dream for a very long time.

The paramedic paced the room highly agitated.  The young boy they had brought into the hospital just fifty minutes earlier had been taken to the Pediatric ICU under a guard from Child Services. He sighed as he watched the clock. He had only six more hours to get through before he could go home and try to forget.

He had tried to sleep earlier, but the nightmares had returned. He cursed silently as he pulled on his bunkers and walked out to the apparatus bay. He pulled his jacket off the side view mirror and pulled it on to ward off the slight chill. He sat on the back of the squad and closed his eyes. He hadn’t had the particular dream in years and had honestly thought he’d finally managed to forget his past. But seeing that boy in the condition he was in toppled a wall the young man had built around his heart and mind. He took a deep breath before standing. He knew he had to talk to someone, but his overwhelming fear of the past kept him from seeking the therapy he needed to overcome the same past he so feared.

The older man opened his eyes and looked around the bunk room, seeing that his partner’s bunk was empty, he threw back the covers and slipped his feet into the boots that were attached to his bunker pants. He stood and pulled up the suspenders as he quietly left the other men sleeping.

“Hey,” He called to his partner.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s all right. Can’t sleep?”

“No, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Want to talk?” The older man had always been able to draw people out. He hoped it would work with his younger partner.

“I was once that child.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was eight when the beatings started.” He spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper.

The older man sat quietly offering his support but not saying a word.

“I was nine when I was first hospitalized, twelve the last time. I tried to run away, but they always sent me back. I hated it there. It was supposed to be my home, my safe place, but instead it was hell.” The young man pushed back from the table and stood. He started pacing. “How could she be so cruel, so mean to a little boy?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did I do that was so bad?”

“Nothing,” The older man stated. “No one deserves being treated like that. It doesn’t matter how old, or how young. No one deserves being beaten.”

“It wasn’t just the beatings though. It was my father,” The man’s voice started rising, “MY FATHER! Dammit, he was supposed to protect me. He promised me he would take care of me. What happened?” The man sank down on the couch and put his face in his hands. His body shook from the tension.

The older man walked over to his partner and sat down next to him. He reached out slowly and put his arm around the much too slender shoulders. “I don’t know what happened. What I do know is that boy we took care of today will never again know the pain that he suffered today. And I also know that you will never suffer that pain again either.”

The younger man looked at his partner and best friend, “You’re right. I am an adult now and I can control what happens.” He sighed, “I’m so tired.”

“I know. Why don’t you lie down here and rest? I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.” He helped his friend to lie back and quietly left the room.

He ran into his captain on his way to the bunk room.

“How is he?”

“Better.” The senior paramedic sighed, “He had it worse than he ever let us believe, Cap.”

“I know,” The dark haired captain sighed too, “I’m just glad you were there to help him.”

They walked into the bunk room and split up, the Captain headed for this bunk, the other for his partner’s bunk.

The paramedic picked up the pillow and pulled the blanket off the bunk. He walked out of the room and through the bay thinking about what his friend had told him. He made up his mind that he was going to make sure that his partner would always know that he was wanted and respected and most importantly, loved.

The End