Bonds of Blood and Tears

By Ryan ; Edited by Erin

Copyright Notice - Copyright ©2005 by Ryan Hickey

Epilogue

Thomas was charged up. The party after the end of the match had been epic and loud. They had all wolfed down mountains of pizza and played video games until they had been called back to the tables for the awards. They had won. Not only had they won, but they had blown the other team away. After the match he couldn’t find his brother to celebrate with, but he had shrugged it off, knowing that Jeff would have done as he was told and headed straight home. The awards ceremony was great. Thomas still held the plaque he had been given as MVP for the season. The fact that his whole team had voted for him had nearly made him burst with pride. He couldn’t wait to show his brother.

Sitting in the back of the SUV with his two teammates, they replayed the game over and over. They bounced around and made so much noise that Mrs. McKinnon had told them more than once that they could wake the dead. This gave the kids a laugh and then they simply launched back into their animated discussion, causing Mrs. McKinnon to just shake her head.

The car rolled to a stop and Josh and Alex suddenly stopped talking. Thomas looked up from the plaque he had been polishing on his shorts. The red flashing lights had his attention right away. They were about a block away from his house. He could see it from the SUV: the street was blocked off by a fire truck, an ambulance and two of the town’s sheriff cars. The whole neighborhood was out standing on their lawns, watching the scene taking place in front of Thomas' house. As he watched, the paramedics loaded a stretcher into the back of the ambulance. The man hoisted the stretcher slowly and with great care to not shift the black bag that rested on it. Thomas' eyes locked onto the black bag. He had seen enough TV and movies to know what it was, but his mind rebelled against the truth of what he saw.

Mrs. McKinnon turned and looked back at Thomas, compassion on her face. "Now don’t jump to any conclusions, Thomas. We don’t know…"

Thomas didn’t hear the rest of what the woman was saying. As soon as she had looked at him, he wrenched open the door next to him and jumped to the sidewalk.

Thomas ignored the shouts of his friends and of Mrs. McKinnon. All he could hear was the sound of an anguished scream. He didn’t connect it with himself until much later. His face was suddenly wet, but it had not yet begun to rain. Wiping the tears away, Thomas took off at a run, darting past the people watching on the sidewalk. Some called out his name, some even tried to grab him, but he slipped through their hands, tears dripping off his chin. Darting past a police officer who had stepped out from behind one of the cars, Thomas was finally stopped when a tall figure, unrecognizable through the tears, stepped in front of him with arms open wide. Thomas would never understand how he knew to run into and not away from those arms, but he did. He felt them close around him and hold him tight, his tears soaking the other’s chest as he sobbed.

As the sobbing subsided, Thomas looked up. Through red puffy eyes, he saw Mr. Clark’s grief-etched face looking down at him.

"Thomas… Thomas, son, you’re not making any sense. You keep yelling 'She killed him; She killed him,' but…” Mr. Clark began to say but Thomas cut him off.

"She did – OH MY GOD – she finally did. I told him; I begged him. You have to believe me, Mr. Clark! I begged him to tell someone; I knew this would happen. If… if I hadn’t gone to the party, then I could have stopped it... OH GOD…" Thomas wailed and for the second time that day, the full story of what had gone on behind those doors came tumbling out, but this time it was not the dispassionate recitation of facts, but the heartfelt agonized retelling of the tale as it unfolded. Thomas told them everything: all the things he had seen, all that he had heard, the reasons Jeff had for not letting them tell anyone, the reasons Thomas had agreed with him. And finally, he cried out why his mother had done what she had done, not just that Jeff was gay, but that the drinking had always been a part of it.

Mr. Clark held on to Thomas as he finally told the story. Looking over the boy’s shoulder, he looked into the grief-stricken eyes of his wife. He watched as grief gave way to anger and then horror. Mr. Clark felt himself go from grief to a boiling, seething anger. He cursed himself for not realizing sooner. All the signs had been there. His anger was also directed at the woman – no, the monster – being described to him.

When the tale was told, the sobbing subsided. Tears still flowed, but Thomas no longer seemed to have the energy or the will to cry any more. Mrs. Clark wrapped her arms around Thomas, whispering soothing words and rubbing the young man’s back, telling him she and her husband were there for him, and  that they would see that right was done.

"I want you to understand something, son: you and Jeff will always have a place with us. We love you kids as if you were our own. I learned to judge each man as they came. My caring for Jeff isn’t changed by any of this," Mr. Clark said, feeling anger flow out of him as love for his young neighbors filled him.

Thomas felt Mr. Clark kneel down next to him and the young man opened his eyes. The elderly man locked eyes with him. Thomas could see and feel the steel behind the man's gaze. In the past, that look had made Thomas and his brother confess to their misdeeds. At this moment, it filled the young man with the resolve to make it through his grief. Mr. Clark shifted and turned his gaze back to the house and nodded at it, drawing Thomas' attention to the scene at the front door of the house.

"It sounds like she was well on her way to killing him, son, but she won’t ever get that chance," Mr. Clark said.
Thomas felt his knees buckle under him. His surrogate grandparents tightened their hold to keep him standing as he watched a county sheriff deputy leading his older brother from the house. Jeff's hands were cuffed behind his back and there was blood all over the front of his clothing. His shirt was ripped but the blood did not seem to be his. Thomas stared as his older brother, the last member of his family, was led past him towards a waiting squad car.

"JEFF!" Thomas screamed, trying to tear away from the arms holding him back.
The procession stopped as Jeff turned and looked at his brother. All the tears were gone from his eyes, but the pain and fear still haunted him. Jeff took a step towards his younger brother, but was stopped by the deputy grabbing his forearm.

"Sorry, son; you aren’t going anywhere but to the station," the officer stated, looking past Jeff to his struggling brother.

"Thomas… I'm sorry. I never wanted to take Mom away from you," the cuffed young man said.
Mr. Clark stood up and looked at the officers. "I think there are some things you need to hear, gentlemen. I'll bring Thomas down to the station and we can all have a talk." Looking Jeff right in the eyes, Mr. Clark gave a sigh. "Everything will be ok, Jeff. Once these men know what you have been going through and hear your side of the story, I am certain it will all work out. We will see you at the station, son."

Mrs. Clark put her arm around Thomas and her husband and smiled at Jeff, nodding in agreement. "He's right; we will be there for you. We weren’t before but we will be now."

The officer led Jeff to the waiting car and placed him inside. Jeff's mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. He still didn’t know how it had all happened. All he knew was that he had entered his room, confronted his mother, accepted what would happen and then found himself fighting her for the gun. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he relived the scene as the gun went off: his mother’s eyes went wide in surprise and then simply closed as she slumped to the floor.