Justin’s at the museum. When I walk towards him the creep from last night is suddenly on him, fucking him. Justin’s crying. I move quickly but I’m then I’m strapped to a table. I’m in a hospital gown. I call for Justin and I hear him calling for Isaac. Anger fills me and the nurse pats my hand and tells me that if I don’t calm down they’ll have to remove the other testicle. I pull out of the restraints but when I get to Justin his back is bloody, like the first time. He slips into a painting, frozen.
~~~446~~~ My heart is racing when I first get out of the building. A block away I realize he’s not following me. I take a deep breath and try to figure out my next move.
If I go back to my place, he’ll find me, besides, he might have thought ahead. Charlie might still be there. If I go to the diner Deb might be working. It’s bitter cold. I shove my hands into my jacket pocket duck my head and start walking.
Hours later I’m sitting on the swing in the park where I first met Isaac. I miss him.
~~~447~~~ Justin’s face is forming in a silent scream. I can’t rescue him. When I try, the canvas rips and his image disappears. I tear the painting to shreds and turn to find him standing behind me, laughing. I shake my head and move to pull him close but he turns and walks away. I follow him, trying to touch him but he’s always too far away. His back bleeding in a pattern that’s burned into my memory. I call out, reminding him to dress the wounds but he just shrugs and kneels in front of a man I’ve never seen.
~~~448~~~ I move away from the swings and go to the corner where Isaac found me. Was it really only four years ago? I sit against the tree and remember how lost I felt then. I want to shake my 13-year-old self. I didn’t know what lost was. I do now. Every time I think I’m as far down as I can go, I end up falling further. I stand up and move away from this place. It hurts too much to be here alone. We were happy together. No one’s going to rescue me this time. No one wants to.
~~~449~~~ I wake up in a cold sweat. I light a cigarette and reach for Justin. He’s not in bed. I don’t see him out on the sofa. He must be in the bathroom. The door’s open. The light’s off and the cold sweat of my nearly forgotten nightmare returns tenfold. I call out for him. No response. I look everywhere, but the alarm’s off and he’s gone.
”Transference”
“Use it or we’ll lose him.”
I can’t get the words out of my head. I get dressed and call Peter. He hasn’t heard from him but agrees to meet with me.
~~~450~~~ I don’t think about it, I just keep walking. No one cares. No one’s ever cared. If Peter and Brian are telling the truth then I’m completely alone and too fucked up for anyone to ever give a shit about. I try to convince myself that they’re wrong but something about what they’re saying hurts too much to be a lie. I finally understand what Brian’s been telling me. I’m fundamentally fucked up. I remember my mother; even she didn’t love me enough to fight. I’m just an abandoned kitten, a useless feral animal. You drown kittens right? I jump.
~~~451~~~ I storm into Peter's office. “He’s gone. No note, nothing. Where the fuck did he go?”
Peter pours me a cup of tea and I ignore it. “Where is he?”
“Brian.”
“Peter, why?”
“What’s your middle name?”
Great, Peter's lost his mind.
“Brian, I’ve called the hospitals and some of the rescue groups for runaways. There are people looking for him. Now answer the question.”
“I should be looking for him. Why did he run? We were getting somewhere.”
Peter nods. “Your middle name?”
I sigh running a hand through my hair. “Alistair.”
“What if I told you you’re wrong?”
~~~452~~~ It hurts. The water is really cold and my jacket seems to weigh a thousand pounds. I gasp and feel my lungs filling with water. The sharp pain is soon replaced by a dull pervasive ache and I close my eyes. My shoes and jacket are pulling me under and I’m content to just float in the quiet. I disappear into that safe place, the one I’ve been trying to get to for days. There’s nothing but white noise and dark. I feel a pressing weight on my chest. It’s the need to breathe. Once I give in. It’s over.
~~~453~~~ “Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your name isn’t Alistair, it’s Patrick.”
“No it isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“This is just shit you know.”
“And even if I told you that you’re 100% wrong and everyone thinks you’re wrong. Would it stop being your middle name?”
I start to understand what he’s saying. “So it’s hopeless.”
“No. People change religions, change belief systems, change, period. But it doesn’t happen overnight and it hurts.”
“I let him down.”
“No Brian, everyone else let him down.”
“You said to watch him.”
“You fell asleep after 39 hours hardly criminal.”
~~~454~~~ I’m ready to take that final breath. There’s a sharp pain. I’m not floating anymore. I hear voices and I want to get back to the water. Everything was peaceful there. I try to move but my arms and legs seem too heavy to maneuver. There’s a bright light and I can’t turn my head away from it. I can’t shut my eyes. I’m being roughly handled and restrained. I try to scream but I can’t. I want to tell them they have to pay good money for this. The buzzing in my head gets louder. I go to sleep.
~~~455~~~ I press my hands between my knees. “And beer. Don’t forget the beer, and shots. I thought it would help him sleep.”
Peter nods and his phone rings. It’s four thirty in the morning, how many emergencies does he get in a night? He looks up at me. His face is grim. He jots down some information and hangs up. “They found him.”
“Where is he?”
“Brian…”
“Is he…” oh fuck. He’s dead.
“Someone should… I guess I could at least identify the…”
“Brian. He’s not dead. They fished him out of the river.”