Free A red tainted Silence by Carolyn Gray

up front as she was walking out the front door.
    “Wait!” I called out, but she didn’t hear me. I ran through the room and stopped her.
    “Wait, where’d Nicholas go?”
    She turned to me in surprise. “Where did you go? He thought you bolted.”
    “I --” My face flushed. “I just went to the bathroom. He’s gone?” She gave me a sympathetic smile and rolled her eyes. “I told him you weren’t upset.
    You didn’t look freaked out to me.”
    “He thought I was freaked out? Why?”
    “Well, he was afraid he’d embarrassed you, by messing with you like that.” She smiled.
    “He really likes you and thought he’d screwed up and scared you off.” I shook my head, rubbing my hand over my face. “No, no no no, I wasn’t embarrassed.
    I was just full of Coke. Where did he go, do you know?” She hesitated, shrugged, then pulled me aside. “If you hurry, you can probably catch him. He’s walking home.”
    “Home? He lives around here?”
    She grimaced. “No, he lives over on Essex. Essex Haven.” I stared at her in surprise. I knew the place. “The shelter? Why is he living there?”
    “His parents moved to Utah, his roommate moved out on him, and he had nowhere else to go.” She frowned. “He wouldn’t tell his parents what happened and moved in there.”
    “That’s a mile from here, though.”
    “His car broke down, so he’s walking, and he wouldn’t let me take him. Go on and catch him. He was kinda upset when he left, but I bet you run faster than he can walk.” I nodded, then said, “Thanks. What’s your name?”
    “Karen.”
    “Thanks, Karen.” I turned around and took off, heading down the street after Nicholas.

    42 Carolyn Gray

    * * * * *
Essex Street. One of the worst areas in the city, the kind of place mostly full of broken-down homes, empty businesses, gangs wars, all that stuff you see on Cops. That would explain a lot of things, I thought as I jogged down the street. Why I couldn’t find him, why he was so elusive. The guy was practically homeless. Shit, that sucked. Things really weren’t so good after all for Nicholas Kilmain, it seemed.
    I should’ve taken my car, but I wasn’t thinking. All I had running through my mind was Find Nicholas. Dammit, why had he thought I’d bolted? He had to have figured out how and why I’d found him at The Book Shed. He’d known my reaction to him; it was so bloody obvious.
    He’d heard me play his song.
    My pace slowed as my side started to hurt. I guessed I was still recovering from the flu.
    A souped-up car with two guys blaring harsh music passed me by, then hooked a left down the street. This area of town made me nervous, and as I turned the corner, I started to understand just how isolated I was. Then, down the street I saw the car at the head of an alley, and empty.
    I heard a scream.
    Nicholas.
    I ran, the pain in my side forgotten, my own vulnerability pushed aside. I had nothing but my fists and my anger to wield against whoever was hurting Nicholas. I passed the car and another scream rent the air, then a voice, his voice, begging, “No, please don’t ... don’t.
    Don’t hurt me ...” Laughter filled the silence, the sound of scuffling and tearing.
    “Hold still, you little shit.”
    “No.”
    “Grab his arms.” Then, “Shit, he bit me! He fuckin’ bit me!” Another scream, then sobbing. I’d never felt so alone, never felt so out of place and defenseless, but they were hurting him. I had to stop them. Walking away never crossed my mind, but I did slow down. Running into the scene unprepared would just end up making me a part of it instead of the one in control.
    As I drew closer, I finally saw them -- two men, holding Nicholas down. The bigger one, to my confusion, looked vaguely familiar to me ... I paused as he turned his head and laughed at something his buddy said, and icy-hot shock coursed through me.
    It was the guy from the high school play, the guy who played Joseph. Older, bigger --
    fatter -- but