Free Paranormals (Book 1) by Christopher Andrews Page B

funny ?" Steve demanded in a strangled voice about as commanding as a frightened kindergartner. "Where’s Dad?!"
     
    "Steve—"
     
    " Where the hell is Dad?! He’ll fire you for this, you son of a bitch! "
     
    "Steve—!"
     
    he’s not lying, Stevey boy, you know he’s not
     
    " GO TO HELL!!! "
     
    Steve shoved himself off the bed — he didn’t even feel the IV rip loose — and threw himself at the older man. Alan had no time to move or otherwise react, and it was only Steve’s lack of eyesight that kept the athletic young man’s fist from breaking his jaw. As it was, Steve struck his shoulder so hard his arm went numb.
     
    "Steve, for God’s sake!"
     
    " He’ll fire you fire you you’ll be sorry when my parents get here Mom will hurt you so bad ... ! "
     
    Then other hands, several hands, were pulling Steve off Alan, and he felt a needle stab into his arm. As they pinned him down, his bandage slowly soaking with tears and blood, Steve sensed the watery darkness returning, and he reached out for it with all of his heart and soul. And, strangely enough, the last things he thought about as he passed into that sweet oblivion were of when he was seven and his parents bought his brother John and him snowcones at the State Fair, and the first time they took him to see the Olympic gymnasts perform...
     
    PCA
     
    ... his first victory at a junior level judo tournament, his father ran right out onto the mats and lifted his arm high into the air. "Wonderful, Steve!" he cheered, as close to tears as Joseph Davison ever got ...
     
    It was the morning after his outburst, and no one else had come to talk to him. The occasional nurse, doctor, whatever , had come in to ask him a few questions concerning his condition, but they had yet to try actually talking to him. Oh, he was sure that it was only a matter of time before the first therapist ("Let’s talk about how you feel , Steve. May I call you ‘Steve?’ ") came through the door, but for now they were leaving him in peace. His headache was better, but the lack of sensation in his eyes had given way to an itchy throb ... he just didn’t feel motivated enough to complain about it. What difference did it really make? He had a new chill to keep him company now — the cold, empty pit that had opened up within him, consuming the anguish and denial and all the other emotions he would have expected to be feeling at this point.
     
    ... "Straight ‘A’s again , Joseph." "Our boys are so smart , aren’t they?" "They sure are!" "We’re so proud of you both!" ...
     
    Reaching out — no, fumbling out — he found the fork and poked at his morning eggs again. The attendant who brought it had asked if he wanted help eating, but his silence had sent the stranger away without a second offer. After a scrape or two, he dropped the utensil again. He would have thought that after three days he’d be a little hungrier, but he cared to eat about as much as he cared about the pain in his eyes.
     
    The door opened again, but there was a long pause before the visitor stepped into the room. By the time Alan finally spoke, Steve had already figured out who it probably was.
     
    Without preamble, he said in a low voice, "I’m very sorry, Steve."
     
    "I know you are," Steve returned. " I’m sorry about ... you know, yesterday."
     
    "No, Steve, please, don’t worry about that. I understand. I brought you some terrible, horrible news, and you were just—"
     
    "Did I hurt you?"
     
    "... a little. Not bad. That’s one hell of a punch you’ve got there. I’d forgotten that you were so strong ."
     
    Alan’s voice sounded as though he might be smiling at that last bit, but Steve didn’t bother to return the gesture.
     
    ... his mother spent so long fixing the birthday cake into the shape of a kick-boxer launching his foot in a masterful strike. It took three attempts for her to get it right — Katherine Davison had never been much of a baker...
     
    (Don’t worry, Stevey,