Archive-name: Samesex/majlea05.txt Archive-author: Archive-title: Playing in the Major Leagues - 5 Chapter 5. Love: Rafael and me I was about a bit less than midway between Savannah, Georgia and the turnoff to Charleston, South Carolina, headed north on I- 95. It was an unusual time of day. There few trucks or cars on the road because it was close to lunchtime. I still had a long way to drive that afternoon and already I was sleepy. I almost didn't see the boy. He was standing by the side of the road, near one of the overpasses that occur every mile or so as the inlets and rivers forge inland from the coast. I was doing close to 85 m.p.h., sitting back in the leather Recarro seat of my Porsche 928, listening to my favorite ancient-history Rolling Stones tape, and holding the steering wheel with two fingers while I played the guitar, or rather pretended to play. The music was about 20 decibels higher than the human threshold for auditory pain, the necessary volume to get a mental high from the Stones. I glanced at the kid as he blurred past and just caught the slight movement of his thumb as he gestured. For an instant I was unsure whether I should stop. I was miles from anywhere and it probably wasn't a good idea to go around picking up young kids by the side of the freeway. Nonetheless, I stomped on the brakes and tightened both hands on the wheel, simultaneously checking in the rear-vision mirror to see whether anyone was close behind me. There wasn't a car in sight behind and there was only one car in front and it was probably a mile or so ahead. A Porsche under hard breaking gives an incredible feeling. There's a kind of whommph as the huge disk brakes with their dual calipers lock onto the ventilated disks and the air behind the car comes rushing past. The enormous low-profile tires grip the blacktop and the car slams to a stop so fast that you feel yourself pushed forward into the seat until the seat-belt takes up the slack. I engaged reverse gear and backed up, the exhaust gurgling loudly. I stopped the car opposite the kid. The boy was small, maybe nine or ten. It was hard to tell, perhaps he was even younger. He looked at me as he slowly walked over to the car. "You want a lift kid?" I asked. Up close, I guessed the boy was about ten years old. He was dark, his bronze-colored complexion and dark brown hair a clear sign that he was probably Mexican, Cuban, or, more likely, part Puerto Rican given his facial features. His right eye and most of his cheek were badly bruised and it looked as if he'd been in a fight and come off second best. The boy looked at me suspiciously. "You okay kid?" I asked. "You look like hell." He smiled weakly and gently rubbed his fingers across his bruised eye, then blinked several times. It obviously still hurt a lot. "Yeah,... I guess I'm okay. Could you give me a lift, mister?" he said slowly. He was barely able to support himself and he leaned against the car with his small dirty hand on the door pillar. I nodded and leaned over and opened the door. The boy sat down slowly as if he was in a great deal of pain. He winced as his body met the smooth black leather and he adjusted to the necessary contour. Then he breathed out, half-closing his eyes. "You okay kid?" I asked again. The boy nodded and swallowed as he breathed fast and shallow. If there is one thing that young boys like, it's going fast in a car. I decided to give my little hitchhiker the thrill of his life. I engaged first gear and pulled back off the shoulder, accelerating rapidly through the gears and letting the quad-cam V8 whine up to five and half thou' before shifting. The Porsche hurtled forward. Its acceleration seemed endless as the needle of the speedometer passed the ten mile increments just about every second until I backed off at cruising altitude. I glanced sideways at the boy. For the first time I realized that the boy was very good looking. Even with the bruise on his face he was one hell of a good looking kid. He was the kind of kid that could do fashion ads. The kind of cute kid that mothers just love. The kind of boy that young girls swoon over and that men like me fantasize about. His dark hair was unkempt but it still glistened. His smooth skin had a bronze lustre. His eyes were dark, nearly black, and contrasted sharply against the vivid white. The boy slumped back in the seat. He breathed heavily, still swallowing, and his brow was dotted with beads of perspiration despite the fact that the a/c was going and the car was pretty cool inside. "You sure you feel okay?" I asked. You'd have to be blind not to realize that the boy was sick. He looked as though he might pass out any minute. He shook his head slightly and sniffed loudly and then closed his eyes completely as yet another wave of pain came over him. The boy shivered as if he was cold and the sweat on his forehead increased quickly. I looked away, back to the road as I passed a truck and trailer. Suddenly the boy winced and let out a small groan. I looked back at him. His upper lip was moist and he was breathing very quickly now, taking short gasps of air that never reached his lungs. "I'm gonna,... gonna be sick,... I think,... Mister," he moaned. The last thing I wanted was kid-vomit all over my car, even from a boy as cute as this one was. There was a a sign up ahead for a rest stop. It was one of those old rest stops without services, a mile away. A mile away, less than sixty seconds. "Can you wait a minute," I asked, ready to slam the car to a stop again if he said he couldn't make it that far. The boy nodded weakly and his small hand moved to cover his mouth. Bad sign. I accelerated and let the speed pick up to ninety. Forty-five seconds. Thirty seconds. The boy's breathing was coming in spurts. Twenty seconds. He was trembling, his little hands shaking. Ten seconds and I got ready to jump hard on the brakes as I rocketed into the exit ramp. The boy was going to retch any second and I could see him taste the bile as it rose in his throat. Five seconds and the car started sliding sideways on the gravel with stones flying out in all directions. The car stopped and the boy tried frantically to open the door but he was unsure of how the door handle worked. I thought about leaning over past him and opening it but I changed my mind and I opened my own door and jumped out. I ran to the other side of the car and jerked his door open. The boy looked up at me, too frightened to move as vomit rose up his throat and into in his mouth. I realized that he was too weak to raise himself up. I held his head, touching his soft dark hair, and pulled his head toward me and out over the door sill towards the ground. The boy shuddered violently, gagged for a second, and then his vomit seemed to pour out. There was a horrible choking sound and then deep long sobs that rose up from deep in his chest. Then more vomit. The sweet sick smell rose up from the ground and from where it had splattered over the side of the car. I felt his small body heaving as he shuddered with each spasm. In those few terrible minutes I was suddenly very aware of how fragile the boy was. He seemed very young and I began to rub his back gently, letting my fingers travel from the end of his spine all the way up to his neck to brush the long silky-soft hair lightly before going downwards again. He recovered very slowly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and smearing away the vomit from his mouth as he began to breath more normally. I gave him my handkerchief. The boy's face had become very pale and I could see that he was still in a great deal of pain. "You okay, kid?" I asked again stupidly. It was obvious he was anything but okay. "Where does it hurt?" The boy looked at me distrustfully. His jaws were shaking and I knew that he was still tasting his own vomit. "I,... I,...It,...", he groaned. I reached forward and tenderly brushed the dark hair back from his forehead, smoothing his eyebrows as I wiped the sweat from his forehead. "You want me to take you to the hospital?" I asked. He shook his head abruptly. How stupid could I be. If there was one thing ten-year-old boys hated it was the hospital, closely followed by the dentist and the doctor. "What's wrong? Maybe I can help?" I said gently as my thumb stroked his small soft cheek and wiped away the wet stains of his tears. "It hurts,... down there,..." he breathed out. The boy pointed to between his legs. I must have been blind. For the first time I noticed the dark stain that had spread over the boy's crotch. The blue denim of his shorts was dirtied and nearly grey. "What's wrong?" I asked again. The boy swallowed, "Hurts,... real bad mister." I nodded, uncertain of what to do next. "You want me to look?" I asked. The boy looked up at me suddenly, questioningly. Slowly he decided that he could trust me. He nodded his head a fraction of an inch. Very carefully I unfastened the boy's woven red-leather belt. The clasp was harder to get to and I fumbled with it clumsily for a long while before I finally opened it. As I slowly pulled down his zipper the boy trembled. He breathed in sharply as my clumsy fingers brushed against the small bulge in his groin. I tried to pull the zipper upward and away from his body as I eased it down. Through the V of his open shorts I could see that the boy had white Fruit-of-the-Loom underpants on, only they weren't white anymore. The dark stain in his blue shorts was a red-brown stain on his underpants. It covered most of the front. It was still damp in the front, below the horizontal pocket in front of the boy's genitals. It was very clear that the boy had sustained some sort of injury to his groin. I looked up at the boy, seeking his permission to remove his shorts. He nodded as he continued to rub his badly bruised eye with the back of his thumb. From the wet streaks on his cheeks I realized that the boy was crying very quietly. Very carefully I placed my hand under his back and pushed forward to lift his buttocks off the seat. With my other hand I eased his shorts down. He winced in pain as I carefully pulled his underpants up and away from his groin. The cotton was stuck slightly to his flesh and I had to peel it away. What I saw was not pretty. The boy's penis was leaking reddish fluid, not blood because it wasn't thick enough. His little penis was a dark purple. It was badly bruised and puffed up like a fat little sausage. But it was the other part of his anatomy that frightened me. His scrotum was nearly black and it was swollen to the size of a golf-ball, the skin stretched so tightly that it was almost transparent. "God what happened to you?" I breathed out. The boy followed my gaze downward, looking at his injury absently, as if he didn't care any longer, "It hurts," he cried. I was afraid to touch the boy's genitals, there was nothing I could do there by the side of the road anyway. "Look, I'm going to take you to the hospital." "Don't wanna go,... not to no hospital mister,... okay?... Please?" the boy pleaded. I wondered what the boy was afraid of. "You don't have much choice kid. This looks really bad." I closed the car door and went around to the driver's side and dropped down into my seat. I started the engine and engaged first gear and accelerated back on the freeway. Only this time I drove a lot slower than before because I knew now that the boy was in considerable pain. God only knew where the next exit was that had a hospital. Ten miles up the road I passed an exit. Like most exits in this part of the country there was nothing but a gas station and a road to nowhere. Another ten miles and then a sign that indicated two gas stations and a restaurant. I thought about getting off and asking about the location of the nearest hospital. Right before I passed the exit I saw a small green sign that said 'hospital this exit'. I swerved the car across the two lanes and careened onto the off ramp. The boy looked at me angrily as he saw the sign. "Look I'm sorry kid. I don't know what else to do, I think you need a doctor worse than you realize." I glanced at the boy as I came up to the stop sign. I didn't stop and made a quick right-hand turn on the county road. "What's your name anyway?" I asked. "Why?" " I can't keep calling you kid can I," I answered. That elicited a small weak smile from the boy. "Rafael," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. There was something wrong with the boy's voice. He spoke quietly, almost whispering as though he was hoarse or his throat was sore. "Hi Rafael!" I said gently, "My name is John". I reached my left hand across to the boy. He looked at it suspiciously and then he smiled slowly as he allowed me take his small moist hand. We didn't shake. I just squeezed lightly. "They were gonna kill me," the boy blurted out. I looked at the boy in surprise, "Huh? What did you say? Who was going to kill you?" The boy looked away furtively, "The men who left me there,... Near the freeway.... I got away...." I overshot the turnoff to the 'hospital' and I braked quickly. I reversed back up to the intersection. "What men?" I asked. But the boy had said enough and his jaws were clamped tightly together. A minute later I pulled up in the driveway of a small clinic, certainly not a 'hospital' by any stretch of the imagination. It was a single story building with window air-conditioners buzzing loudly. I turned off the engine and leaned over the boy and very carefully eased his shorts and underpants back up and closed his zipper. I went around to his side and lifted him out of the car. He was very light and I easily carried him up the three stairs and into the reception room. An overweight receptionist came around from behind her desk as I stood there looking around me impatiently. She moved like a sloth. "The boy's been injured," I said abruptly. "He needs a doctor now." The woman nodded, "Well now,... and just what,... is the matter,... with him?" she drawled in a deep-southern accent. "He's in a great deal of pain," I said. I breathed out trying to control my rising temper. "Can you just get a doctor, NOW?" I said loudly. My raised voice was enough to bring a nurse-type out from an adjoining room, "What's the problem here? What's wrong with the boy?" she asked with concern. "I don't know. He's been injured. Seriously I think. It looks like he's been kicked in the groin or something. I found him up the road about twenty miles." "Oh! Well bring him right this way, and Susie, you get on that phone and find the doctor, NOW! Move it!" the nurse said. The receptionist moved a little faster than before though it was only temporary. I carried Rafael into the surgery and placed the boy gently on the examining table. I stayed by the boy's side, holding his hand gently as the nurse took his temperature and blood pressure. I could see that she was worried. In just the minute since I had first carried him in, the boy had become even paler. I helped lift him up and the nurse tried to ease his shorts down, The boy yelped then began to cry as his underpants started to come away. She picked up a pair of scissors and carefully cut through the cloth at the sides of the boy's hips and then peeled the front section away. "Oh my God!" the nurse said softly as soon she saw the boy's injury. A moment later tires squealed outside the building and a doctor came hurrying into the surgery. He took one quick glance at the boy on the table and then talked quickly with the nurse. Finally he turned to me. "I'm sorry would you mind stepping outside for a while," he said quietly. Rafael opened his eyes and began to shiver and shake his head. "No... No... Please?... I want him here," he begged. I glanced at the doctor. I could tell from his expression that my presence in the surgery was a disruption and that serious work was required. I was going to be in the way. "No Rafael, I'll be right outside. I'll be here in the next room, okay?" I said as I stepped back toward the door. The minutes passed slowly. I wanted to go back inside and make sure that the boy was all right. For some strange reason it seemed as if the boy's well being was very important to me though I knew nothing about him other than his first name. I flicked through a few dog-eared magazines, unable to read more than a few words. The air-conditioner kept buzzing and switching on and off. I waited for a long while, unsure as to whether I should just get up and leave, but something kept me there. I had a feeling that I was somehow responsible for the boy. All I could think about was the terrible minutes as he leaned out of my car and vomited, the choking sound that went on and on and the softness of his dark hair. The nurse came out of the surgery where I had carried the boy a few times. She smiled or nodded to me and disappeared down the corridor always returning with several small packages. I became increasingly nervous. I had no wish to stick around. I'd done my 'Good Samaritan' act and the boy was in a hospital, more like a clinic, but at least he was getting medical attention. I hoped that he was all right, though somehow, deep down inside, I knew he wasn't. The memory of his nearly-black swollen scrotum haunted me. It must have been terribly painful for him. I remembered the reddish liquid that leaked from his penis, not red enough to be just blood, but obviously there was a lot of blood in it. I looked over at the receptionist. She smiled and nodded, is that all they did here, smile and nod? A moment later she stood up and came over to me. "You want some coffee,... or somethin'?" she drawled. I shook my head, "No thanks! Is the boy okay? I really have to get back on the road," I asked, "I'm running late enough as it is." She smiled, "I'm sorry. I don't know anything yet. I'm sure the boy is doin' jus' fine. The doctor's been with him for a while now." She went back to her cubicle-office. I sat back in the seat, still wondering if I should leave. Except for the hum of the air- conditioner, the room was quiet. Minutes passed slowly. Soon half- an-hour, then nearly an hour later a man came out of the room where we had taken the boy. He was dressed in a white lab-coat. The obligatory stethoscope was around his neck, pens and thermometer were in his breast pocket. He came straight over to me. "Hello, you're the man who brought the boy in here?" he asked cautiously. "Yes," I said, "How is he?" "I'm Doctor Webster," he said, extending his hand. I didn't say anything but merely shook hands with the man. "He's good enough,... considering. He should be in a hospital. His condition has stabilized now. What happened to him?" he asked. I breathed out, "I don't know. I found the boy by the side of the road, I-95 going north. I guess about twenty miles from this exit. He seemed okay when I picked him up but I guess he was in a lot of pain because he started crying a few minutes later. I got off at the first rest-stop. That's the old one before this exit. He vomited quite a bit. That's when he showed me,... well, what had happened to him. I brought him straight here. Other than that I know nothing about him." The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "He say's his name's Rafael. That's all he'll tell me. He's been injured pretty badly. Do you have any idea what happened to him?" I shook my head, "That's what he told me too. The boy wouldn't tell me anything else. I asked him, I think he's scared stiff." The doctor nodded, "He's in shock. That kind of injury can be very traumatic. Well, I think you better come into my office. There's a few things we should discuss. We need to figure out what to do. I have no idea of how to contact his parents. And we need to contact the police." I followed the doctor along the corridor. He turned into the third door on the right and closed the door after I had entered. He turned and went back to his desk, talking as he crossed the room. "I don't know whether I should be telling you this. You obviously cared enough to bring the boy here. I gather you've seen the injuries he sustained. Right now the boy is doing about as good as can be expected, considering what happened to him. From the look of his injury I'd say he's been kicked very hard in the groin,... a number of times. It looks like it happened two or three days ago. The injuries are quite bad. I've only seen one case as bad as this and that was when one of the local boys got kicked by a horse. It can do a lot of damage. Your boy's lucky to be alive, another few days and he wouldn't be here." I sighed, "Poor little bugger. I hope he's going to be alright. How bad,... is it?" The doctor nodded, "His bladder was damaged and it was extremely full. He probably hasn't urinated since he was injured. That's not unusual in this kind of injury, but bladder failure can have serious consequences. I catheterized his penis and drained off the bladder. I don't know how much of his injury you've seen. There's a lot of bruising on the penis, but that will go away pretty quickly. It's remarkable how sturdy the penis is. His testicles are quite a different matter." I nodded, "He was almost black there. I think that's what scared me so badly, that and the fact that it was all swollen up like a golf-ball." The doctor got up from his chair and walked over to the window. Outside, a magnolia tree covered with Spanish moss filtered the light and gave a deep shade to the room. "The boy will be in a lot of pain for quite a while. Right now he's on cortisone treatment to bring down the swelling and an anticoagulant. Um," He paused as he consulted the notes before him, "Dicumarol. Hopefully it can break down the blood clotting that has occurred in his testicles. The problem is that he'd shouldn't be given a pain killer, something like Acetaminophen, at the same time. "Why?" I asked. "It increases the effect of the anticoagulant. It can be hard to determine the end result, but it's very likely that the testicular bleeding might start again. I've drained the boy's scrotum already. The fluid buildup is what caused most of the swelling of course. The boy's testicles are still very distended. The Alclometasone, that's the cortisone-based drug, will take care of that in a few days. Anyway, right now he doesn't have anything for the pain so he's going through hell. In a few hours I'll put him on Diazepam to help with the trauma he's going through. I don't want the boy sedated until his condition has stabilized a bit more." I nodded. "How bad was he hurt, Doctor?" The man looked out of the window for a while, then turned back to me. "Bad enough. It's hard to tell at this stage. It's very likely, most likely, that the boy has been permanently damaged." "Damaged how?" I asked awkwardly as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "In injuries of this type, as bad as this, well there's always some loss of testicular function." He looked at me. "How severe it is depends. Usually if the swelling comes down quickly and there isn't too much clotting in the testes then there is no impairment of the function, or very little." I nodded. "In his case, the clotting has been very bad. As I said, from the look of the bruising I'd say that it happened maybe two days ago. Frankly I'd be surprised if any testicular function remains." "Meaning what, Doctor? He's likely to be sterile?" "Honestly? Yes! I'd say that was more than likely. At his age, I'd guess he's about nine-and-a-half or ten, and the extent of the damage, I'd say there's about a ninety to ninety-five percent chance of that." "Poor little bugger," I breathed out. "Yes, you could say that I think. Being sterile is only half the problem." I shook my head sadly, "What's that mean?" "I'm sure you know that the testes produce more than sperm. They also play a vital role in the boy's physical development," the doctor said. "I know that. You mean....." "The Leydig cells are interstitial cells between the seminiferous tubes that produce sperm. The reduction in blood supply caused by the clotting and the amount of crushing that has occurred is going to result in considerable cell deterioration." "What in the hell does that mean?" I asked impatiently. Doctor Webster smiled in resignation. "I've only seen one case as bad as this. I told you about the boy that was kicked by the horse. He's sixteen now. He's been on hormone therapy for the last two years so that his body undergoes the maturation process that normally starts with puberty." "Oh! You mean that,... Rafael,...?" The doctor nodded and breathed out. "'Fraid so. If anything his injury is a lot worse because it hasn't been treated for so long." I shook my head sadly as I thought of the little boy vomiting from the side of my car and his tears running down his cheeks as he heaved again and again. "How can you be sure it's that bad? I mean kicks to the groin aren't that unusual." "A kick, like most boys might get in say a game of football, might be painful for an hour. This boy was kicked repeatedly and very deliberately. Whoever did it to him wanted to hurt him very badly. But you're right. Short of biopsy there is no way of being certain and that would defeat the purpose wouldn't it." The doctor smiled weakly. "By the time the boy is fourteen or so, the extent of the damage will start to appear." He smiled resignedly, "Or won't appear" I nodded. "Meaning that the changes that are going to occur at puberty will either happen or not happen." "That's the general idea. At that point, a program for hormone therapy can be started." The doctor paused. He walked over and stood by the window, looking outside. I could see him thinking. He turned back. "Do you know anything about what happened to him?" I looked up in surprise. "Huh? No! I picked him up on the freeway and brought him straight here. He didn't say anything. Just getting his name was a problem. He did say one thing though." "What was that?" "He said something about men trying to kill him," I answered. "The boy has been sexually assaulted," the doctor said quietly "Oh God!" I breathed out in shock. "There are some very bad anal fissures. The tears in the boy's anus are the type that result from intercourse. He might have been raped. It's hard to tell if it was forced," the doctor added. "Is it bad?" I asked. "No, not really. I would say it happened a few days ago. By the end of the week there won't be any sign. The anus heals very quickly. Even in a young boy like, uh, Rafael, there is a great capacity for the anal muscles to stretch. The damage to his rectum usually isn't that serious. The rectum is remarkably tough. Unless there is excessive force the worst damage is a fissure or two. We're treating him with just a protective coating of Zinc Oxide. That kind of damage doesn't happen if he's been with another boy. It's very likely to have been caused by a grown man." The doctor looked at me curiously. "There's also a lot of old bruising around the boy's anus. I'd say he's been sexually active for quite a while. He might have been hustling, though he's a bit young for that I would say. Still, you'd be surprised how much of that we get around here. Maybe the boys just get bored and the money's good with the tourists. I must see a case like this every month or so." I nodded. "It sounds like New York City," I said. "The boy should have an Aids test in about four weeks. He might be positive." I nodded again. "I've also given him a Hepatitis B injection. He might have already been inoculated though he's too old to be on the standard program. We've started a program nationwide for children that play sports and for newborns. Children at risk, like this boy, need it even more but they're usually the last to get it." I stood up, deciding that this was a good time to leave. "Well Doctor Webster, I'd like to thank you. I just wanted to make sure that the boy was in good hands. " The doctor came closer to me so that he stood only a few feet away. "I'm sure the boy appreciates the trouble that you've gone to. He's been asking about you for the last hour. He wasn't at all happy with you outside the surgery. The boy's had a rough time and it'll get even worse when he's told what has happened to him." "I'm sorry doctor. There really isn't much I can do. I'll leave my name with the receptionist and an address where I can be contacted if you need it for the police. I'm already about an hour late for a meeting." I turned and started walking to the door. "Would you mind, just a few more minutes? I know the boy would like to see you before you leave." I looked around. I could picture the little boy as he sat in the seat of my car, his hand clasped over his mouth as the sweat poured from his face. I breathed out. I knew that the boy had been in terrible pain and that his life, in one very important way, probably had been destroyed. The least I could do was go and say good-bye. I nodded. The doctor smiled. "I'm glad. It's going to be very difficult for the boy as he begins to understand what happened. He needs all the support he can get." "Does he know yet?" I asked. "More or less. He knows his testicles have been badly damaged but I don't think he fully understands what it means yet. He knows that his testes are a very important part of him but that's about all." I followed the doctor back into the corridor and we walked towards the surgery. The boy was no longer inside and the doctor went into the adjoining room. Rafael was half-sitting up in the bed with his back against a pillow. The boy leaned over to one side. His eyes were closed. A plastic I-V tube was taped to his right arm. For the first time I really saw the terrible bruise across the right side of his face. The eye was blackened. The little boy looked so helpless that I wanted to hold him tightly. Slowly his eyes opened and he blinked as he realized that we were standing next to him. I could see that he was only a few seconds from crying as he trembled. A little whimper of pain and anguish and then the first tears began to form in his eyes. "Hi!" I said gently. "How do you feel, Rafael?" The boy looked up at me and slowly sucked on his bottom lip. "It hurts,... Down there," he whispered. I nodded. "I'm sorry. The doctor tells me he'll give you something for the pain soon." "The anaesthetic is beginning to wear off," the doctor said to the nurse. "Let's try a cold pack for a while and see it that helps." The nurse nodded and left the room. While she was gone I looked at the boy. The sheet reached just past his navel. Above, the boy was naked. It was impossible not to admire the splendid young body. His skin was a golden brown and unblemished by even the smallest freckle. His nipples were pale and very tiny. He was lithe and slender and firm taut muscles rippled under his skin. He was also surprisingly attractive. No beautiful, so beautiful that I could not take my eyes away. There seemed to be a magnetism that drew me back time and time again. His eyes were big and dark and seemed mysterious. His eyes were sensuous and as soon as the thought entered my mind I was shocked. The young boy was both beautiful and very, very sexy. I felt guilty. Time and time again I tried to look away but each time my eyes were pulled back to him. As each second ticked by I could feel myself drawn to him. I could barely believe the intensity of my desire and I was shocked that I was being so sexually aroused by a little boy. Slowly I realized that my feelings were more than just sexual. I wanted the boy as my son, as the son I had never had. I wanted him to be my friend, someone that I could teach and help and love. For more than two minutes that boy and I looked at each other silently. In those few short minutes the first bonds between us were formed. The nurse interrupted us by coming back with an cold pack. Suddenly I was aware that the doctor was still beside me and that he had been watching our silent communication. The doctor started to lift away the sheet that covered the boy's body when Rafael looked up at me in despair and then back to the nurse who stood only a few feet away. The modesty of the ten- year-old boy had just returned. I smiled reassuringly. "Ah, Doctor, I think my young friend here wants some privacy." The boy breathed out gratefully. The doctor nodded. "Kathy, I think our patient might like a drink of lemonade." The nurse smiled. Ten-year-old boys were like that. One minute they were totally uninhibited, the next, terribly modest. The boy had just spent the last hour stark naked in the surgery and now he was worried about the woman seeing him. She left as the doctor gently pulled down the sheet. I swallowed and felt my rage building as I saw the boy's injuries again. The 'golf-ball-size' scrotum had deflated. It was still an ugly purple and black color but at least most of the swelling had gone. Little more than an hour ago it had looked as if it would burst any second. The boy's little penis was also badly bruised. It seemed awfully small. There was a thin rubber catheter inserted into the tiny orifice in his foreskin. It drained into a plastic flask that lay between the boy's slender thighs, taped to one leg. I gasped as I saw that the flask was half- full of dark brown fluid. The doctor nodded as he saw my concern. "There's been some localized damage to his bladder. The blood is breaking away now. That's what's making it so dark." "Oh!" I said quietly. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was impossible to believe that anyone could inflict damage like this on a child. Even the boy's lower belly was darkened by the black and blue shades of bruises. There was also a lot of bruises on the insides of the boy's thighs. It was impossible not to feel a deep sadness for the boy. The doctor carefully placed the cold-pack next to the boy's little scrotum so that it was against the badly damaged flesh.He stood up and sighed. "I have to go visit some of my other patients at a rest home. I'll be gone for a few hours. The nurse, Kathy, will be here of course. She'll get anything you want. I'll be back later this afternoon to check on the boy. Then we'll make the call to the police." As he moved towards the door I followed him and thanked him for all that he had done to help the boy. He shrugged. "Poor little kid. He's ready to break. I don't know what's happened to him over the last few months but whatever it is, he's a survivor. His parents ought to be in jail for letting this happen." I followed the doctor out into the reception area as he continued to talk. "Do what you can to find out what happened to him. The boy trusts you and right now you're all he's got. We tried to find out where he was from when we were working on him but he clammed up. All he wanted was for you to come back in. Just sit by him for a while. He needs to have you near him." I nodded, took the two lemonades from the nurse and went back into the room where the boy was. He looked around and smiled weakly as he saw me. Rafael would be a very easy boy to become fond of. I walked over to the bed and sat down gently next to him. The doctor was right. The boy needed a friend more that anything else right now. He lifted his hand to take the lemonade but it was obvious that he wasn't able to. His hand quivered and as he tried to close it on the glass he almost dropped it. I smiled and held it to his lips and he sipped a little bit. We sat together very quietly for a long while before the boy finally dozed off. I sat very still and watched the boy's chest rise and fall with barely perceptible movements. Rafael awoke about an hour later. "Hi Raf," I said. The boy's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Nothin'. 's just a friend of mine used to call me that." "Oh! I'm sorry. Would you rather that I call you Rafael?" I said gently. The boy shook his head slightly. "Na! It's okay. I like you calling me that." "How do you feel?" I asked. "It still hurts. I wish it would stop." I gently patted the boy's small bare shoulder. He was warm to touch, almost hot. I wondered whether he was feverish and I placed my hand on his forehead. The boy definitely felt hot. There was a moist feeling to his skin and he seemed to be shivering slightly. "I'm sorry about the pain," I said. The boy sucked on his bottom lip and then swallowed. He was clearly in a great deal of pain but he was bravely holding his own. I felt very close to the boy, almost proud as he fought back tears. He was a little boy trying very hard not to be. "'s okay," he murmured. "Is there anything I can do, Raf?" I said gently. The boy shrugged then looked away. "If you wanna go it's okay." he whispered. "I'll be okay. Thank's for helping me mister. Thank's for the ride too. I hope I didn't mess up your car." I smiled and then I leaned forward and lovingly caressed his hair. It was soft and silky under my fingers. "I'm not going to leave. I'm staying here right next to you until you walk out of here or we find you parents." "I don't have no parents," the boy said quietly. "I don't have no one." "Anyone," I automatically corrected him. "Where are you from?" I asked. The boy was quiet for a long while. "Did you run away? Is that why you're alone?" The boy looked up at me and then back to his feet. "I kinda ran away," he said at last. "I live in a home for boys." He looked back at me. I could feel his dark eyes searching mine as he tried to decide whether he could trust me. I continued to stroke his soft fine hair. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want," I said. The boy swallowed and then compressed his lips together firmly, resolutely. "I'd like you to trust me," I continued. "But I know it's hard. Sometimes it really helps to talk about the things that bother us." "Centerville. Its an orphanage outside Miami." he whispered. I nodded. "Is that where you're from? How did you get here? Where I found you." "Uh... I sorta got into trouble. Not at Centerville. I was trying to get back there and some guys picked me up. They're going to kill me." I looked at the boy in surprise. "Yes. That's what you said in the car. I think you have to tell me more. It isn't that I don't believe you. I do! Why are they trying to kill you?" "I seen Luis,..... kill someone.... A little girl." The boy looked at me and I could see the fear in his small face. "You're safe now," I said. "No I'm not. They'll find me here. I got away. They have to kill me 'cause I know what happened." "Well," I said, "when the doctor gets back we'll call the police. You'll be okay." "I don't want the police. They'll make me go back to Centerville. I know they will." I tried my best to sound confident and reassuring but the boy was very frightened. "I'm going to stay right beside you, Raf. Whoever they are, they have no idea where you are right now." The boy nodded as he followed my argument. He slowly calmed down a little bit but the fear didn't disappear. It stayed as a constant reminder of what he'd been through. His fear would stay for a long while. I continued to stroke his hair and he leaned over towards me so that his side was closer to me. I wanted to hug the little boy. I wanted to take away all of his pain and fear. Mustering my courage I placed my arms around his narrow chest and leaned forward over him. I hugged him gently. I could feel him trembling, fluttering almost like a tiny frightened bird. Not trying to escape but terribly afraid. When he spoke his voice was strained and barely more than a whisper. "The doctor,... said my balls were hurt real bad. I,... I'm scared." I nodded and continued to hug the hot little body against me. There was something wonderful that I felt as I held him. I aware of his soft smooth skin and the heat that flowed from his bare brown body and through my shirt. I also felt close to him. What I felt inside was much more than simply an attraction to his young body though I could not deny that was part of it. I felt a powerful need to protect the boy. I wanted to love him and have him love me in return. I wanted Rafael to become a part of my life. I remembered the doctor saying that Rafael might well be a hustler. While that thought saddened me I realized that it really didn't matter to me. What has happened in his past was only important in so far as it affected his future. I wanted his future to be with me. I wondered what Rafael wanted. I tested the waters carefully. "Raf, do you want me to call Centerville?" The boy shook his head vigorously. "No! I ain't never goin' back there!" he said emphatically. "I hate it there". "Where are you going to live then?" I asked. The little boy shrugged. I nodded understandingly then quickly the next question formed in my mind. I tried to hold it back but it blurted out. "Would you like to stay with me? At least until you're better. You can stay longer if you want of course. That's up to you." "Huh? The boy looked at me in surprise. "Why would you want me to stay with you?" I smiled gently. "You seem like a real nice kid whose in a world of trouble. Maybe I can help, maybe I can't. You need a friend right now and I want to be your friend. I guess I always wanted a son, someone like you." The boy smiled slowly and then he hugged me back. I felt wonderful as his little brown arms clasped me and held me tightly. Somehow I knew deep inside that we needed each other and that this was meant to be. Rafael twisted slightly so that he could hug me even stronger. He winced and grimaced as the pain shot through his groin. "You better take it easy." I said gently. "Could I really live with you? I'd be good." The boy looked up at me and I could see that there were tears forming in his big puppy-dog eyes. I smiled and ruffled his long dark hair. "Are you house trained?" I teased. The boy looked at me with confusion. I smiled again. "I'd love to have you stay with me. You're welcome to stay as long as you want. I have a spare bedroom that I can clean out and make room for you." Rafael smiled happily. "And by the looks of you I don't think you eat very much." Lying there naked in the bed, his ribs were very visible. He looked very thin and pale, though considering what he had been it was surprising that he was still alive at all. Rafael settled back in the bed and I lifted the glass to his lips again. He drank a little more and then eased back. Even drinking seemed to exhaust him. I continued to sit on the side of the bed next to him. I wanted to touch his small body, to stroke the smooth skin of his shoulder. I wanted to tell the little boy that everything would be 'okay'. I wanted him not to be scared. I wanted him to know that no matter what I would take care of him. I was very happy just knowing that the boy depended on me as much as I was on him. "How do you feel?" I asked after a while. "It hurts real bad. I can't stop from.... thinking about it. It's real bad isn't it? I heard what the doctor was saying to the nurse. I probably won't grow up like other boys. Did you know that? That's what he said. Because of what happened down there." I nodded. "The doctor told me. He can't be certain Rafael. When you're older, about four or five years from now,.... then they can tell how bad it is." I said gently. "Don't worry about it now. Right now all you've got to do is get better." Lovingly I placed my hand on top of his. The boy's hand was very small compared to mine. His little fingers were hot and moist and he seemed to tremble as I squeezed his hand. A part of the boy seemed to flow into me. He seemed so fragile lying there on the white sheets. His body had been damaged, perhaps irreparably. He had been terribly abused and while some of the damage that had resulted would heal eventually some never would. I suspected that the boy would be emotionally damaged. He needed my support and friendship. He needed my affection and love. I realized at that moment that not only was I prepared to give Rafael my support and affection but I would do what ever it took to love him. I was in love with a boy who was at the perfect age to be my own son. The realization of it stunned me. I had never thought of myself as gay but my interest in young males had always been deeply repressed. I had been attracted to boys for as long as I could remember. There was no denying that unpleasant fact, though I had not done anything beyond simply look and admire. Here in the bed was a beautiful young boy and it was all that I could do to restrain myself from sweeping him up in my arms and carrying him off into the sunset in my Porsche. I smiled at the boy and resisted the demanding urge inside me to kiss him. It was hard not to. I placated my rising desire with a gentle though very loving brush of my fingers on his smooth forehead as I pushed his silky dark locks back. The boy gave me a smile that went straight to my heart. I looked into his dark eyes and then remembered what the doctor had said about the boy being repeatedly sodomized. I wondered whether the beautiful young boy was a prostitute. I denied the possibility and decided that he had been raped. There was another fear that was equally possible, that he'd been infected with the Aids virus but I denied that as well. He was far too beautiful to die a shocking death like that. For a long while we just sat and stared at each other, looking into each other's eyes as the bonds continued to be forged between us. I was captivated by the boy's big dark eyes. There was a mystery within him, a primal sensuous mystery as old as time itself. "How old are you, Raf?" I asked at last. "Ten. My birthday's on March 26," he volunteered. I smiled as I memorized that wonderful day. "So you're ten years and three months and,.. uh,...five days old,..." I said. The boy giggled, "Yeah I guess. How did you figure that out so fast?" I grinned. "Raf, I've got to make a phone call. I'm supposed to be in a meeting in about thirty minutes but I'm going to stay here with you instead. I want to call them and cancel out, okay?" I asked gently. "Please don't leave me?" the boy pleaded, "Please?" Tears formed in his eyes and he began to shiver uncontrollably. "Raf, I promise I'll only be gone a few minutes. I'm going to call from my car. Just five minutes, I promise." The boy nodded uncertainly and half-closed his eyes in resignation. I was sure that the boy thought that I was leaving for good but there wasn't much I could do about it. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset the boy. I brushed his forehead again and let my fingers linger at the side as I gently stroked the soft dark curls behind his little ears. "Trust me, Raf." I begged. I wanted desperately to gain the boy's trust and I clumsily unfastened my watch and gave it to him. "Here, Raf. You time me. If I'm more than five minutes you can keep the watch." He looked at me uncertainly and I smiled at the young boy. "It's just ten past now, okay?". The boy nodded again, this time a little more confidently. I stood up and backed towards the door. His dark eyes followed my every move. I knew that tears were building up as he sniffed and then wiped his small hand against his eyes. I sighed, sooner or later he would have to learn to trust me. I turned and walked as quickly as I could out through the reception area and over to my car. It seemed to take forever to get a connection to Charleston. I was probably on the limit as far as distance and the voice on the other end was fuzzy. I managed to get the message across that I was going to be delayed indefinitely and then I grabbed my briefcase and headed back into the clinic. Rafael had his face turned away and the nurse was trying to comfort him. She smiled at me and moved away as soon as I came into the room. I touched the boy's tear stained cheek gently as I lovingly turned his head back to look at me. The boy was red-eyed but he managed a small smile as soon as he saw me. I grinned at him as I sat down on the bed again. "So how long was I?" I asked. The boy shrugged and held out the watch uncertainly. It was time to change phone companies. The time was seventeen past three and my little game had just cost me well over three hundred dollars. I began to laugh because I really didn't care about the watch. All I wanted was Rafael. I wanted him to be happy, healthy and mine. The boy smiled shyly, his eyes blinking rapidly as his tears stopped. "It's yours," I finally got in. The boy shook his head resolutely as he looked at the gold face of my chronometer. "It's beautiful,... but it's yours," he said with embarrassment. "I should have known you weren't gonna leave me. I was dumb to start crying wasn't I?" I smiled. "It's never dumb to cry, Raf. If what you're crying about is important to you. But you are right about one thing, I'm never going to leave you." The boy smiled and for the first time his pale lips parted. His pure white teeth were perfectly shaped and spaced. I reached forward and gently took his right wrist. I could feel the slight pulse of his beating heart. His wrist was thin and very smooth. I took the watch from the boy's hand and started to fasten it. "But I don't want it, really I don't. It's yours and,... and,..." he said angrily. I grinned. "You better learn that when I make a deal I stand by it," I said. "Besides you don't have a watch. You need one." "But not this one. You owe me okay?" he grinned cheekily as he took the watch back and refastened it around my wrist. "There. That's better. Besides it's way too big for me." I grinned back at the beautiful young boy and was rewarded by a smile as he beamed at me. His dark eyes seemed to twinkle cheerily despite the pain that he was in. "I owe you one," I promised. We grinned at each other again like two starry-eyed lovers To break what seemed like an endless silence I reached down and opened my briefcase. It took a few seconds to find the book I had brought with me to read. When I had left earlier that day it had been in something of a rush. I had planned to stop by at one of the discount malls on I-95 and pick up another book on my way to Charleston. Fortunately I had thrown a 'Sherlock Holmes Omnibus' of collected stories into my briefcase just in case the meeting went longer than I expected and I decided to stay over in Charleston for the night. "What's that?" Rafael asked curiously. "You know who Sherlock Holmes was?" I asked. "Sure. The detective guy who hung out with Watson. Everyone knows that." I grinned. "How about I read one of the stories to you?" "Yeah! That would be cool. Would you? Please?" he implored. I opened the book and scanned the contents. There was no place like the beginning so I started with the 'Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'. Rafael settled back into the pillows and listened attentively. He giggled uncontrollably as I did my very poor imitation of English 'English'. My accent was impossibly way off the mark but it was still fun. I read to the boy for hours, until the doctor came back and looked in on us. He nodded and smiled from the doorway and then came over to look at the boy. "How do you feel, young man?" he asked. Rafael looked at me for reassurance and I smiled back at him. It was heartening to see that in just a few short hours the boy had started to depend on me. The boy looked back at the doctor, now unwilling to discuss what had happened to him.I breathed out and took over the role of protector. "He says that it hurts a lot more than it did earlier. I've had the nurse bring in a few more cold- packs while you were away but they don't hurt much." The doctor nodded. "Probably not. I really don't want to give him anything stronger than the sedative he's already on." He looked at the boy and then asked, "Do you mind if I lift the sheet up for a moment?" Again Rafael looked at me for advice and protection. I smiled and reached forward, lifting up the white sheet for the doctor. The boy's groin seemed even darker in color that it had been earlier though it looked as if the swelling in his scrotum had gone down slightly. The doctor nodded and then turned to me. "Have you talked to the boy about his injury?" I shook my head. The doctor breathed out deeply. "I don't know how much you heard when we were working on you earlier. I want you to listen very carefully. What happened to you is very serious. You're lucky to be alive. There has been some internal damage, mostly to your bladder. It's quite likely that it could have killed you if this man hadn't brought you here. There's also some bad bruising on your stomach and thighs but it's largely superficial and it should start to go away in a few days. The real damage had been done to your testicles." Rafael looked at me uncertainly. I leaned forward and whispered, "That's the right name for what you probably call your balls." The boy nodded slightly. He looked very uncomfortable and I knew he was frightened much more than he was letting on. I wanted to take all of his problems away forever but I knew that he had to hear it sooner or later. "It's very likely, almost certain I think, that you're going to be sterile. That means you won't be able to father children." The boy looked at me clearly afraid now. The doctor continued with his prognosis. "Not only that, because your testicles were badly crushed, it's also likely that you will not be able to mature physically without drug therapy." Again the boy looked at me for support. I placed my arms protectively around his small shoulders and gave him a small hug. "You'll be okay, Rafael. You'll see. Everything will work out all right," I promised. Rafael leaned closer and whispered quietly in my ear, "Can I talk to you alone? I,... I don't want him to hear." I nodded and looked back at Doctor Webster. "Rafael would like to say something to me. Do you,... uh,... think,...?" The doctor smiled and nodded. "I'll be right outside." He stood up and walked to the door and closed it after him. Rafael and I were alone. I could see that the boy was very nervous. I wasn't at all sure of what he wanted to tell or ask me. He looked down at his feet for a long, long time as he searched for the words. "I,... I,... don't know,... how to say this," he finally stumbled out. I smiled and placed my hand on his forearm. Unlike my arm, his small arm was perfectly smooth. It was almost as if it had been shaved because there wasn't a trace of hair, not even the peach- fuzz that most children have. "Don't be frightened, Rafael. I think you know by now that you can trust me. There's nothing that you can say that can change the fact that I like you a great deal." The boy nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess I know that. It's just that,... well when the doctor was fixing me up,... he kinda looked all over me,... and well,..." I wanted to kiss and hug the boy so much that I could barely stand it. I knew now what he was struggling with. "Doctor Webster told me about the damage to your bottom," I said gently. I breathed out and added, "Is that what you want to tell me? I know you've had sex and that you've done things that most boys your age generally don't do." I paused searching for a way to tell Rafael that I understood. "I don't know whether you were forced the last time, when you were hurt, but the doctor thinks it's been going on for some time. That's all in the past though, Raf." Rafael looked up and I could see his reddened eyes blinking and starting to water as he neared tears. "I'm sorry. I really am." He swallowed and choked back a sob as it started to rise from deep inside him. He wiped his hand over his eyes. "I wasn't forced to do it. I've only done it with boys,... except for the last time. Do you hate me?" he asked. I smiled reassuringly and shook my head. "I could never hate you, Rafael. You have to live your own life. Maybe you made a mistake, that's all and I'm not even sure about that. It's really none of my business." "In Centerville,... it's kind of hard not to do that stuff. All the boys do it. I s'pose because they're lonely. I was and I couldn't help doing it. I think I'm gay, I really do. I'm sorry." I stroked his small arm lovingly, letting my fingers travel from his hand almost to his elbow. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You're too young Rafael. Way too young to know if you're gay or not. Just because you did those things it doesn't automatically mean that you're gay." The boy pulled his arm away guiltily and looked down at the bump in the sheets that was caused by his feet. "But if I am then, well,... you wouldn't want me to live with you would you? I know I'm....gay. I think I've known it for a long while but I've always been too scared to admit it." I sighed. I wanted to tell the boy that I loved him. After spending only a few short hours together I loved this beautiful dark-haired ten-year-old boy. I loved him more than I ever imagined was possible. "What if I was gay too?" I said slowly. Seconds passed. It was as if the boy had not heard me. It was the most frightening time of my entire life. I could not live if he rejected me. His head lifted very slowly and he turned to look at me. "Are you?" he whispered. I breathed out in relief. "Do you want me to be gay?" I asked. Rafael nodded. "It wouldn't bother you if I was?" I asked uncertainly. He smiled and shook his head, almost eagerly as his dark mane bounced over his forehead. I grinned back at the boy, realizing that he had accepted me just as I had accepted him. We needed each other. "What the doctor said,... 'bout my balls? Do you think,... well,... you know,... Can I still do that stuff?" he asked awkwardly. "I don't know, but I'll ask him," I said. Rafael started to giggle. "You can't do that. Don't be silly." I laughed, "Just wait and see, Raf." I got up from the bed and went over and opened the door. Doctor Webster was talking to 'Slow Susie' but he broke off the conversation and came over to me. I led the way back into the room and stood next to Rafael's bed. "Doctor Webster I think Rafael needs to know how the damage will affect him in other ways. I suppose the question is will he still be sexually responsive?" The doctor looked up at me quickly. I guessed that he was surprised by my openness. "Yes, that's a very good question. I don't have the answer. There is a chance I suppose that he'll be impotent but I wouldn't expect the boy to suffer like that for very long. His penis will recover fully in a few weeks. If there is a problem, well, it'll be psychological. Only time will answer that question, I'm afraid." I nodded and translated. "It sounds to me like the less you think about it the better. I'm sure everything will be fine and Raf Junior will be up and about in no time at all." Rafael blushed slightly and the doctor smiled warmly as he looked down at the young boy. "Don't worry about until you need to, okay? I'm sure everything is going to function normally. You do need to take better care of the other part of your body though," he said more seriously and then added, "You and I are going to have a long talk tomorrow morning." Doctor Webster looked back at me thoughtfully. "You and I need to decide about tonight. It's nearly six o'clock and my receptionist wants to close up soon. We generally don't keep the clinic open at night. Anyone who needs that kind of care we move to hospitals either in Charleston or Savannah. I don't think we need to move the boy at this stage but the problem is that there's no motel around here. At least not one where you'd ever want to stay. I'm prepared to let the boy stay here if you'll stay with him." "Certainly. Of course I'll stay here with Rafael. That is if you don't mind me sleeping in the other bed. I'm just about exhausted," I said. "No. Of course not. There's nowhere else except the couch in the waiting room. Anyway I think it would be better if you stayed in here with him. You can always give me a call if there's a problem during the night. I think he'll be okay once I've given him something for the pain. Well that's decided. Now about dinner. If you'd like I'll have Susie pick up something downtown and bring it back for you. I don't imagine,.. uh,.. Rafael is very hungry but she'll get some soup for him." "That sounds great," I said. +++++ Shortly after that the doctor left for the evening and about twenty minutes later 'Slow Susie' came in to see what I wanted for dinner. What I really wanted for dinner was lying in the bed next to me though I certainly wasn't about to say that. I told Susie that I'd settle for anything even resembling food because I was starving, even the standard junk-food fare of fried chicken or a hamburger, fries, coleslaw, and coke. I reminded her to pick up some soup, vegetable or chicken or something like that, for Rafael. It didn't sound to me as though soup was going to do very much to lift Rafael's spirits so I asked Susie whether she thought he could have ice-cream. Susie said she didn't think it would hurt him so I asked her to see if she could get a couple of icecreams or frozen yogurts as well. I gave her a ten and didn't expect to see much change. About a half an hour later she came back and I was pleasantly surprised. Not only had she brought back some of the best fried chicken I had ever smelled but also the icecream. She left and I put my food on the table while I helped Rafael eat his soup. The soup seemed to perk the boy up a little bit. At first I had to hold the spoon to his lips but by the time the styrene mug was about half gone he was helping himself, albeit with some difficulty. His hand shook with the effort of lifting the spoon and I began to understand something about the traumatic stress that the boy had been through during the last few days. Not only was he physically exhausted but he trembled uncontrollably again and again. It made me feel both sad and angry that he had been made to suffer like this. It was very hard to sit on the bed next to Rafael and watch him struggle to eat, to see his badly bruised face and know the damage that had been done to his young body under the sheet, without thinking of murder. The boy tried as hard as he could not to spill the soup but every minute or two some would dribble off onto his beautiful brown belly and I would wipe him clean with my handkerchief. Still I knew better than to stop him from trying. The boy needed to rebuild his self-confidence and self-esteem and having me feed him was not the way to go about it. Anyway, it gave me a chance to eat as well and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. My fried chicken not only smelled good it also tasted good. I was hungry and I barely paused to breath as I wolfed the three pieces while Rafael finished his soup. As the boy's pain began to lessen as a result of the combined effects of the Diazepam and the old standby of Tylenol, Rafael began to get livelier. Finally I ended up feeding him french fries by popping them one at a time into his mouth while he chewed hungrily. I knew he was beginning to recover. I wasn't sure whether Doctor Webster would agree with my diagnosis but it seemed that what the boy needed was rest and plenty of food. I didn't think that a few dozen french fries would do too much damage to a ten- year-old boy. We polished off our icecreams and I went back to reading the adventures of Sherlock Holmes after I had cleaned up the mess on the bed. The next few hours passed slowly and I read page after page of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as Rafael listened attentively. Just before nine o'clock I realized I was reading to myself. The boy was sound asleep. I stopped and spent a long, long time doing nothing but sitting still and looking at Rafael. Finally, at a few minutes before eleven o'clock I quietly got up from the bed and went over to the other bed that was close to the window. I lay down and closed my eyes. I could still remember every detail of our first few minutes together and I replayed them and again as I drifted off to sleep. +++++ I don't know what woke me up. It was in the early hours of the morning, somewhere around two or three o'clock. I lay still, listening to the sounds outside. There seemed to be a million crickets right outside the window. In the dim light that filtered into the room I could just make out the shape of the boy and his dark body contrasted against the sheets. He seemed to be sound asleep. The voices were barely more than a whisper. The sound intruded into my consciousness in slow motion. For long valuable seconds I could not believe the sound I was hearing. Then it sank into my mind and I sat up quickly. Except for the crickets it seemed quiet and deserted and I lay back down again. A few seconds later I heard the whispers again. This time I was alert and I realized that I hadn't been mistaken the first time. The voices seemed to be right outside the window. I strained my ears to pick up the words. "...course he's 'fuckin' here,... Luis will kill us...only hospital in miles..... Rafael had not been wrong. There were men trying to kill him. He had witnessed something he was not supposed to see. The whispering ceased and I slid off the bed and onto the floor crouching still as my heart pounded a noisy rhythm in my ears. Carefully I moved to one side of the window and then cautiously came back to my feet as I looked outside and down the side of the building. The moon was nearly full and I could make out the shapes of two men as they moved towards the front of the building. They were both armed with what looked a lot like sawed-off shotguns but to my unpracticed eye I had no idea. All I knew was that Rafael and I had better get out of the clinic, and fast. I went over to Rafael's bed. Already my heart was racing and I was breathing quickly as adrenaline rushed into me. I shook the boy awake. Rafael looked up at me drowsily, still numbed from the effects of the drug that he'd been on since early evening. "There are two men outside with guns," I whispered as I began to wrap the sheet around the small naked body. Rafael shuddered with fear and I saw his face begin to crumble as fear overpowered him. "They're gonna kill us," he whispered urgently. "No they won't. I'm taking you out of here." I said quickly. I pulled the end of the I-V from the bottle, leaving the plastic tube taped to Rafael's arm and I slid my arms under his knees and back and lifted up. The boy gasped from the sharp pain that wracked his body. There was a terribly loud crash at the front door and I realized that the front door had been disintegrated by the powerful blast from a twelve-gauge shotgun. I heard more crashing sounds and I stumbled out through the doorway and into the surgery as Rafael choked back a scream of pain by biting onto his fist. Just through the next doorway was the reception area. There was another door in the wall directly opposite me and I carried Rafael through the surgery and over to it. Luckily the door opened as I pushed against it and I went through hoping that I could find my way to the rear of the building. The crashing sounds seemed to be right behind me. I came into an examination room and I pushed the door closed with my foot. There was only one other door and I was certain that it opened into the corridor that led down towards the doctor's office and hopefully, to the rear entrance. I was breathing hard and Rafael was making a whimpering sound. He was still biting on his clenched fist and I knew that the boy was both terribly afraid and in a great deal of pain. I knew that I couldn't go into the corridor because it was clearly visible from the reception area. I froze as I heard the men in the surgery, the loud noises coming straight through the door that separated us. There was a second or two of quiet and then the shotguns roared again. It was only a matter of a few seconds before they searched the room that we were in. I opened the door that led into the corridor and rushed out, knocking Rafael's legs hard against the door jamb as we went through. The corridor was clear but the fastest way out of the building was right in front of me. I charged across the reception area and through the splintered front door. Behind me, the shotguns roared one more time. I leaped the three or four stairs in one bound and nearly crashed to the ground with the extra weight of the boy. I recovered and scrambled up and then ran as hard as I could for my car. It was parked maybe forty or fifty feet away under the trees and it seemed to take forever to cover the distance. I didn't remember whether I had locked the doors but I hoped not. The passenger door opened and I dropped Rafael down. He screamed in agony. I slammed the door and ran to the other side. I hadn't locked either door and I jumped in, searching for my key as I went. The car started on the first go and roared into life as I flattened the accelerator, pulled it into first gear and dropped the clutch. Three hundred and fifty German horses hit the ground and the car leaped forward. I glimpsed the two men on the porch, their guns already lifting up and taking aim. Pea-sized gravel flew out as the car careened outward, going sideways as I fought to bring it back under control. I was headed into the end of the parking lot and I knew I had to turn around to get out. I spun the wheel keeping the car going at maximum power and spinning the car around wildly. The men were coming down the stairs with the shotguns aimed right at the windscreen. I hit the headlights and the horn at the same time. I've always appreciated German engineering. Halogen lights and air horns burst into the night and the men leaped away as I swerved towards them. In that instant I cut the lights and the car rocketed down the driveway, its engine making a banshee wail as the tachometer went into the red zone. I narrowly missed hitting a van that was parked halfway across the road. I thought I could see Florida plates but I couldn't be sure in the darkness as we flashed by. I knew it belonged to the two men and I looked at it in the mirror. It looked as though it was a dark red in color with one of those elevated tops that some conversion vans have. Seconds later I reached the road and I spun the wheel, changed gears and accelerated, leaving black rubber streaks on the grey road surface. I had valuable seconds before the two men got to their own vehicle and I planned to make the most of it. Even though I knew that there was little likelihood that they would be able to catch me I was still frightened. The car hurtled down the country road at over a hundred miles an hour without lights on. I realized that I had turned the wrong way as soon as I gone about a mile and realized that I had missed the turnoff. I was going away from the freeway. There wasn't much I could do about it. I went for nearly five miles with only the light of the moon to see by. Every few seconds I glanced in the mirror to see if we were being followed. I hoped that the men had thought that I would head towards the freeway but I expected that the tire marks would give the game away. All that time the boy was sobbing in waves as his pain returned again and again. I passed a few run-down farmhouses and considered stopping at one to get help but it seemed pointless. In this part of the US I was more likely to get shot by accident by doing that. Finally I passed an old decrepid-looking barn and there seemed to be a lane that ran off from the road. I braked hard and backed up as I searched behind me for any sign of pursuit. I backed up into the lane until I pulled up next to the barn. I turned the engine off, opened the window and listened. Except for Rafael's gasping it seemed still and quiet. "You okay?" I asked gently as I felt my own pounding heart begin to subside. "Yeah,... Yeah I guess so," he whispered. I leaned over to the boy and placed my arm around his shoulders comfortingly. I could feel his little body trembling and I hugged him gently. "We're okay now. That sure was close." "Now do you believe me?" the boy demanded angrily. "I believed you before. You don't look like a liar. Who were they?" I asked. "They was with Luis," Rafael replied. "They were," I corrected. I started to laugh. "What's so funny? They were gonna kill us you know?" Rafael said. "But they didn't did they? I guess they are with Luis." "Huh?" "Nothing, Raf. Just relax. They won't find us here," I said confidently. "How do you know? They found me back there and you said they wouldn't." I squeezed the boy's shoulder. "We're okay now. I'm going to stay awake. I want you to get some sleep." The boy shook his head and pressed his lips together angrily. I continued to rub his shoulders gently. My fingers lightly massaged his slender neck and caressed the silky dark hair. It slowly relaxed the boy and his eyes closed. After about ten minutes his head dropped down onto my shoulder. I held him to me tightly, feeling his warmth through the thin cotton sheet. There seemed to be a wonderful life in the small sleeping body that seeped into mine and for the rest of the night I absorbed him. The hours passed slowly. Time and time again looked at the car clock and saw that only a few minutes had passed since I last looked. No cars came past until just before sunrise and they were pick-ups that I felt certain were owned by local farmers. Rafael awoke just after eight o'clock. The sleep had been good for him. He was stiff though not where he usually was the first thing in the morning. He stretched like a lazy cat as he began to struggle awake. It was fun watching the boy wake up. His eyes opened slightly, saw the morning light and then closed again from lack of interest. A few minutes later they tried again. This time he stirred and sighed. He blinked several times and his eyes remained opened as he yawned sleepily. He managed a weak smile at me. "Hi Raf!" I said cheerily. "You sleep okay?" "Huh? Oh yeah, I guess. Did they,...?" he murmurred. I shook my head sleepily as I tried to clear the fuzz from my brain. I would have given anything for a cup of strong coffee. "Not a sign of them all night. How do you feel?" I asked. "Okay, I guess. It still hurts down there a lot but not like it did yesterday." The boy paused and then he slowly started to giggle. "It sure sounds like you are feeling a lot better. Okay so what's up?" I asked. "I don't have any clothes on do I?" Rafael giggled. I grinned back at him. The sheet had fallen away during the night so that it was only half over him and revealed a large part of his beautiful brown body. "No, you don't do you? You have a wonderful body so you've got nothing to be ashamed about. Besides I've seen everything already." Rafael grinned cheekily. "I'm starving. Are you?" I nodded and started the engine. "I bet you are. First we better go back to the clinic and find out what happened. We need to get some clothes for you too." The boy looked up at me uncertainly. I could see he was still very frightened. "Do you think it's safe? They might be waiting." "I don't know, they might. We'll be careful, okay?" I eased the car back onto the road and drove slowly back towards the clinic. I couldn't believe how far we had gone in the middle of the night. It had taken only a few minutes to get to the barn. Going back seemed to take forever as I looked constantly for any sign of the red van. Finally I pulled into the driveway that led to the clinic. I crept slowly up the narrow road in first gear, ready to slam the car into reverse and 'get the hell' out of there at the first sign of trouble. Two cars were parked in front of the clinic and I parked under the trees where I had stopped the afternoon before. "Stay here, Raf," I ordered. "I'm leaving the key in the ignition. If you need me or see any sign of the men I want you to hit the horn and then get down as low as you can." The boy nodded and I opened the door and got out. Dr. Webster came out onto the porch as I walked up to the clinic. "Whew. I was beginning to think that you two hadn't made it," he said with obvious relief. "Meaning we were dead?" I smiled. "Something like that. How's the boy taking it?" the doctor asked with concern. I looked back at the car and waved to Rafael. I saw him smile through the window. "He's feeling a bit better I think. It scared both of us pretty bad. Must have been about two or so this morning when it happened." "What did happen?" the doctor asked. "I woke up and heard two men moving around the building. They were carrying guns. Looked like shotguns or something like that, maybe about this big," I said, holding my hands about two and half feet apart. The doctor nodded. "That's what it looks like to me. They blasted their way around in there." I nodded. "I'm really sorry about that Doctor Webster. Rafael had said something earlier about two men trying to kill him. I believed him then but I really didn't think they would find us here. I guess I was dumb. When you think about how badly the boy was injured I should have expected that they would search here at some point." The doctor looked away and sighed. "That might be it but I think Susie had a role in it too. She was down at Jake's place last night. That's a bar down the road about four miles. She blabbed about an injured kid staying here so.... Anyway the main thing is the two of you are safe. This place is insured. Maybe I'll be able to get it repainted now." I smiled. "Have you called the police yet?" I asked. "Yes. They've already looked at the damage. They had to leave because of a wreck out on '95. I guess they'll be back in an hour or so." He paused. "What have you managed to find out about the boy?" he asked. "Not much really. I know he's a runaway, but then you already suspected that. He's from an orphanage in Florida, near Miami. A place called Centerville. He was very lonely there and I guess he got involved with some of the other boys. I don't know how he got here though. I think he wants to tell me what happened but he's still too frightened." The doctor looked at me curiously. There was a long silence. "What's with you and the boy?" he finally asked. "Huh?" I looked at him with surprise. The man smiled. "I'm not blind or stupid you know. What's with the two of you?" he asked again. "I,... uh,... I'm not exactly sure what you mean Doctor Webster," I replied. The doctor smiled. "Let me be honest with you." He breathed out and then took a deep breath. "I came down here from 'DC a few years ago. My friend,... had just died from a complication caused by Aids. There wasn't a thing I could do to save him. I was a damned good doctor and I couldn't help him. I came down here to escape and try to pick up the pieces." The doctor looked away and sighed deeply. "I loved him. He was just nineteen when he died. I had known him since he was sixteen. You understand what I'm saying?" I nodded, "You're gay? You're not the only one, Doctor Webster." The doctor smiled. "For God's sake call me Colin. What's your name anyway?" "John," I replied cautiously. "Well John, I'd have to be blind not to see that you and the boy are,... uh,... what we might call attracted,... to each other. You are aren't you?" I nodded very slowly and looked at the doctor quizzically. The man looked over to the car, to Rafael. "If he's been living in a home I guess he's had a miserable life up till now. You could change that." I nodded slowly. "I guess,... What are you driving at?" The doctor shrugged and started to turn away. "Colin?" I said loudly. He turned around and looked at me. "Yes I could change his life. I fully intend to. I want Rafael to live with me." He smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that. He needs someone like you desperately. Peter, my friend, was a lot like Rafael. A real nice kid whose life was shit. He was working the streets. Boy hustlers have a hard life in 'DC. He came into the hospital with Hepatitis. I sort of adopted him. Peter lived with me right up to the time he died." "I'm sorry," I said simply. "Take the boy away with you and give him a good life. He deserves something in this life. It'll be the best thing that could happen to him. Probably the best thing for you too, going by how you were looking at him yesterday." I smiled. "I'm that obvious huh?" "No. I guess I just knew what to look for. That boy needs you every bit as much as you need him. What the two of you decide to do together after he's better is nobody's business but yours. Peter and I had a good life for three years. He'd been infected before I met him and he tested positive at the hospital so I knew that we only had a few years together. They were good years. I only wish I had met him earlier or he'd lived longer. Three years weren't enough. It happened very quickly at the end. I wasn't ready to let him go." I looked at Rafael and waved again. This time the boy waved back. "Do you think Rafael's got it?" I asked. The fear rose up inside me and I waited for the answer. "Aids? I doubt it, but he might. He needs another test. It usually takes about six weeks for the body to react to infection. Any number of health clinics can do it, or if you'd rather you can bring him back here." "What about the police?" I asked "As far as I know you disappeared sometime last night." The doctor passed me a business card. "I don't want to know who you are or where you live but I would like you to give me a call or write and let me know how things turn out for the two of you." He stepped back through the doorway. The shattered front door lay on the floor at a crazy angle. Its painted surface was splintered and pockmarked. I followed the doctor back into the surgery and through into the room where I had stayed the previous afternoon and evening with Rafael. The surgery had been systematically destroyed but nothing prepared me for the destruction in the next room. The bed where Rafael had slept was blackened from powder burns and there were huge gaping holes into the mattress where several shotgun blasts had been fired. Only a few seconds longer and Rafael would have been lying there in a pool of bright red blood. I turned away. The window had been smashed and sheets and pillows had been scattered over the floor as the men had vented their anger. My briefcase had been torn open and papers had been strewn across the floor. "What a mess, Colin. I'm truly sorry. If I can help in any way,...?" I said. "No. Like I said I'm insured. The best thing you can do to help is take the boy away from here and give him the best life you can. Let me get a few things for you. He's going to need more Diazepam, at least for the next few days until the pain goes away. I want to keep him on the cortisone too." I bent down and picked up my investment reports and papers, stuffing them back inside the briefcase with the book I had been reading to Rafael. By the time I finished the doctor came back into the room. He handed me two small bottles and the boy's clothes. The shorts and tee-shirt had been washed and looked clean and fresh. "I wrote some instructions down. Basically one of each at breakfast and dinner for the next few days." I nodded. The doctor passed me a tube of ointment. "This is Zinc Oxide. You need to put a good coating on his anus until the fissures heal. It should take only take a few days too." "Thanks a lot Colin. I appreciate everything. How can I pay for what you've done so far?" I asked and then smiled as I added, "I don't think Rafael's got a health plan to bill this to." Colin grinned. "It's free. It's the least I could do. I'm just very glad that everything will turn out okay for him." "You better get the I-V out though," I grinned. "I think he's still got that catheter in too," Colin said. "It's not all that hard to pull it out but I guess I had better do it." He walked with me to the front porch and I waved to Rafael again. He waved back again. The doctor and I went over to the car and I opened Rafael's door and leaned over the boy to unfasten his seat-belt. I helped him straighten up and I unfolded the sheet so that he sat naked on the seat. I moved out of the way and the doctor squatted down next to Rafael. "How do you feel?" he asked gently. Rafael looked up at me and I smiled reassuringly. "Okay. It still hurts a lot but not as much as yesterday," he said nervously. Colin nodded. "The swelling has gone down a lot. Before you know it you'll be back up and keeping John real busy." Rafael blushed and looked up at me. I nodded. "He knows you're going to live with me," I said. "Oh," Rafael said. "Ouch! Man that hurts!" He yelped as the doctor gently pulled the thin orange catheter out from the tiny puckered end of his penis. A little bit of dark red fluid dribbled from the end of the boy's penis and out of the catheter, making a reddish brown stain on the white sheet. Carefully the doctor unfastened the plastic bottle that was secured to the inside of Rafael's right thigh. "That's better. Does it still hurt?" he asked. Rafael shook his head. The doctor turned and looked up at me. "There'll probably be some drainage during the next day or so and then his urine should be normal again. If it's not or if it hurts when he goes I want you to call me right away." He eased the tape back and carefully pulled the I-V needle out from Rafael's forearm. He rubbed the soft underside of the boy's arm and replaced the tape. "Not quite as good as new but he'll do," he teased as he stood up. "Give him a week or two and the bruising will disappear." I nodded and squatted down. Rafael lifted his legs up as I slipped his shorts on. He managed to lift his buttocks up without too much difficulty and I pulled the shorts up very carefully to cover him. I placed my handkerchief under the boy's shorts so that it formed a soft clean pad over his injured genitals. I smiled as I unfolded the little tee-shirt. "Cute mouse," I said. "He looks a bit like you." "My best friend gave me that. I really liked him a lot," Rafael murmured. "Before he left Centerville...." His voice trailed off and I knew that his memories were unhappy ones. "Well," I said, "You're not going back there again. Unless you want to, of course." I pulled the tee-shirt over his head and guided his hands through the sleeves. I could have looked at him naked all day but it was also nice to see him dressed and the damage to his body covered up. I straightened up and turned to the doctor. We shook hands and I thanked him again before the doctor squatted down again. "I guess this is good-bye, Rafael. You take care of John, hear. He has my phone number and I want you to make sure that he calls me and tells me all the news about the two of you. Promise?" Rafael grinned and looked at me with a happy smile as I got into the seat next to his. "Sure thing. Bye Doc'. And thanks for taking care of me," he said. I started the engine and the doctor closed the door. "You guys be good to each other," he called out as I pulled the car around and headed down the drive to start my new life with Rafael. End Chapter 5 (stay tuned for the continuing adventures) --