Free RAGE (Descendants Saga (Crisis Sequence One)) by James Somers Page A

striking a wounded me across the forearm. The break is ugly to watch on video and only makes it feel worse. The rest of the footage speaks for itself. Tom is the aggressor and everyone knows it.
    However, much to my chagrin, he isn’t going to be taken to the precinct for booking. Not only am I headed to the hospital for my arm, Tom is being sent for his mouth lacerations and a possible concussion from where I banged his head a couple of times on the pavement.
    Paramedics arrive on the scene shortly after statements are given. We each have to sit and have our wounds cleaned and bandaged. They also manage to place my arm in a sling that will keep it stable for the ride to St. Mary’s Hospital on Praed Street, not far away.
    I am loaded into the ambulance, since I technically have the greater injury. Tom is deemed fit enough to ride to the hospital, in style, in the backseat of the police cruiser. At that point, we part ways, but it won’t be long before we see each other again.
     
     
     

Agony and Awakening
     
    We’re only beaten when we give up the fight—Jonathan Parks
     
    15 Days Earlier
     
    Following my complimentary ambulance ride to St. Mary’s, the doors open and the paramedics pull my folding stretcher out the back, wheels dropping to the pavement automatically so they can push me inside. It is a bumpy ride that makes my arm throb, but at least they have me bundled. It is, at least, nice to be warm for the trip.
    I am taken directly into the emergency room and wheeled into a triage room to await treatment for my broken arm. It isn’t long before I hear Tom Kennedy’s voice, accompanied by the frantic voice of a woman I can only assume is his mother. She sounds on the verge of panic at the thought of what Tom’s father will say when he gets word of this mess.
    Tom tr ies to explain the predicament he’s gotten himself into. Of course, he is the innocent party in the matter. The police just have it wrong. He was being picked on by the other boy. It isn’t his fault. Surely, his father will support him with the best lawyer money can buy.
    If I could , I would cover my ears. I can just imagine his parents buying Tom’s way out of this. What is actually assault with a deadly weapon, possibly attempted murder, might end up as a harmless indiscretion with a slap on the wrist.
    I look around as their voices fade down the emergency room hall. He is evidently being put into another triage room away from where I am. It’s times like this when I become acutely aware I have no mother and father. A pang of loss needles at me, but I push it aside.
    The police w ill make sure Harold and Jeanette know where I am. One or both of them will almost certainly be here after they got home from work and learn what has happened. I just can’t help the feeling it isn’t quite the same.
    Despite the Lemons being entirely decent and loving toward me, they ha ve never mentioned the possibility of adopting me. They are great foster parents, but that just means they are willing to open their home to kids in need. Somehow, that just isn’t the same as making the ultimate commitment, wanting me to belong to them as an adopted son.
    There is a wall between us. Near as I can tell, it isn’t coming down. We will just continue like this, until I turn eighteen. An awkward farewell and parting will follow, and I will be out of their lives, leaving a space for some other child to fill. I suppose, for a while, I am only filling the void left by their dead son.
    I close my eyes, pushing back tears. Suddenly, I hope Harold and Jeanette won’t get the message for a long time. Seeing them now might only punctuate our predicament.
    I hear my name from a voice I don’t recognize. My eyes pop open to find a young Asian man’s face hanging upside down over me. I realize I fell asleep. I’m also moving. The corridor marches past me on either side of my stretcher.
    “Hey, you’re awake!” the man sa ys. “I tried to wake you before I took