Chapter Text
The Pitt had been pulsing fast all night, Dr. Abbot had fielded several patients out to surgery, up to wards and in one case, the morgue. But they were still drowning, not quite able to get on top of the case load. Jack briefly registered the radio going as he chased lab results and wasn’t surprised when Lena grabbed his arm.
“Ambulance ETA 3 minutes, 15-year-old prolonged tonic-clonic seizure. You good to take it?” she asked, well, told.
“You got it boss” he replied with a tight smile, heading over to make sure there was a trauma bay prepped.
-
“Okay people, what do we have?” Jack asked, when the EMTs burst through the doors a few minutes later.
“Approx fifteen-year-old male, found by direct care staff seizing in his bedroom. No known history of seizures, ongoing tonic-clonic activity for approximately 10 minutes, then was post-ictal for five minutes before seizure activity resumed for 10 minutes. CPS unaware of any epilepsy history. We administered 10mg Midazolam IM at 0130, which has not yet terminated the activity. BGL is 90mg/dL. He’s on 15L o2 via NRB, oxygen saturation is 93%. Now have IV access in the right AC.”
“Got a name for the kid?” Jack asked, bending over to carefully work around Kerns, who was giving the handover and securing the kids head. Carefully looking into the kid’s open mouth and shining a pen torch in, he could see the kid had bitten his tongue enough for Jack to worry.
“Group home staff don’t know, he was placed with them last week. Refused to talk so far” Kerns replied, unable to hide the despondency in his tone.
Jack stiffened slightly, taking in the information. He pushed the ugly thoughts away and let out a sharp breath. Gathering himself he assessed the kid’s movements. Seizure activity was still taking place, no clear signs of slowing.
“Okay people let’s work quickly now, let’s push 1.5mg Lorazepam, get him booked in for a CT. I want full labs, see if he’s taken anything….”
The ER team worked efficiently, and it wasn’t long before the kid’s seizure stopped again, long enough for Jack to think he’d stopped completely.
“Kid? You with us? My name’s Dr. Abbot, you’re at Pittsburgh Medical trauma centre.” Jack said, watching as the boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he let out a low whine.
“I can still fix the roof” he mumbled, reaching out to grab Jack’s scrubs. His voice was muffled by his ruined tongue, and a line of blood dribbled out of his mouth down towards his chin. “Promise I can still fix the roof Jesse-”
Jack’s eyebrows furrowed, and he placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder, gently working his thumb into the skin.
“You’ve had a pretty nasty seizure kiddo, have you ever had one before?” he gently probed, but it was apparent the kid was in no state to answer any questions.
“Just- please just let me try-please” he garbled, now desperately grabbing at Jack, tears streaming down his face.
Jack looked up, “he’s becoming distressed, let’s go with 0.5mg Droperidol. Try and calm him down.” His gaze fell back down on the boy, “it’s alright kid, we’ve got you. We’re going to do our very best to help now.”
It wasn’t long before his grip on Jack’s scrub top went slack, and his big wide blue eyes slipped shut.
-
The storm had taken the roof.
Dennis stood in front of the barn with his hands dug far into his pockets, scraping his feet across the ground and kicking up wet soil. He wanted to look up and see the damage, but the shame was coiling tight in his gut, dragging his eyes back down to his feet.
Last night, the sky had grabbed the building by the shoulders and shook it, tin screaming as it peeled free and vanished into the dark. Dennis had been wide awake, cowering in the bathroom of the house while his family shut themselves off in the underground storm shelter. Nathan, his eldest brother, had shoved him back roughly before slamming the doors shut. We don’t need any more bad luck down here runt. So, Dennis had retreated to the house, listening as the barn next door was brutalised, daring to peep out of the window and look on at the devastation.
Now, in the early morning light, the barn leaned at a new angle, and three calves lay stiff in the mud, eyes glassy, tongues slack and darkening with cold. His father stood a few yards away, hands on his hips, staring at Dennis so intensely, he felt like his father’s gaze would scorch his cheek. His mother couldn’t even look him in the face, just cried as she fisted a hand into the scruff of her favourite calf.
No one said it out loud at first. They never did.
But Dennis knew. He’d had another ‘episode’ a few days prior, his body smacking to the ground and spasming, filled with the devil and sin. It left his body dumb and aching; he couldn’t muster the energy to peel himself off the kitchen floor until the next morning. He knew where the blame fell for the roof when Nathan dragged him from his hiding spot in the bath out to the yard, forcing him to confront the damage.
“Hope you ain’t plannin’ on school this year, Denny. This gon’ take some time to fix,” Andy, second oldest, said. He crowded up to Dennis, spitting on his shoes.
“I know, Andy,” Dennis replied, knowing he sounded like a meek piece of shit. He didn’t apologise. Sorry wouldn’t fix the roof. Sorry wouldn’t revive the dead. Baring his neck slightly, Dennis hoped the show of submissiveness would calm his brother.
“Every fucking time, Dennis. Every fucking time. And still! You won’t just grow up and knock this shit off,” Nathan shouted, eyes wild as he paced. “Look what you’ve done to our mother!” He grabbed Dennis’s chin in a grip hard enough to bruise and forced him to look at their mother, still sobbing into that goddamn calf.
“Look what you’ve done to our livestock!”
A hand clamped down hard on the back of Dennis’s neck, hauling him forward. Nathan shoved him into the smallest one, the calf Dennis had helped pull into the world a few weeks prior. Nathan’s grip was iron, and Dennis found himself choking against the dead animal, unable to breathe in anything but the smell of decay. His knees dug into the mud, cold seeping into his bones. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he couldn’t cry. This was his fault, and all he could do now was repent.
“Look at the destruction caused by your hand! You live in sin and yet you do not repent!”
He began to pray, tight, fast words begging for forgiveness. Hands clasped together, Dennis prayed for the lives of the calves, for the agony their mothers would feel. He prayed the town would be bountiful in their help toward the barn roof, that he would personally repair it. He didn’t need school anyway, not when his responsibility was to the farm and his family’s lives. Nathan’s hand didn’t let up, squeezing tighter at the back of his neck, pushing Dennis’s face further and further into the cow until his words wouldn’t come anymore and the world began to tilt, dizziness blooming with sin.
-
Dennis didn’t go back to school come August. His days instead spent high up on the ladder and makeshift scaffolding, slowly piecing the roof back together. The weather was hot, sweat clinging to his body like a second skin, making his eyes sting and clothes fit even baggier than they did before. Miraculously, he’d only fallen off the ladder once, scraping up his arm and twisting an ankle.
The church had helped his parents purchase the materials, but it was Dennis’s job to build the new roof. Every nail, piece of timber, sheet of metal lifted by his hand. He just had to think of every day of work as an act of God’s will. Working to prove to his family was trying, and he did care about them. He wasn’t just this immoral thing shoved upon them as a punishment.
After a long day’s work, Dennis attempted to enter the house to join the others for dinner. A sharp look from his mother turned him back out, snatching a roll from the basket on the table, Dennis stalked out of the house and towards the stables.
Going through the motions of tacking up, Dennis ran his hand along the soft leather of the saddle. Warm from soaking up the last bit of sun. Acorn was a good horse, old enough to be pleasant to ride, pleased to take it slow. Dennis kept the reins loose, letting the horse pick his own pace, hooves striking a steady rhythm against the earth.
The land rolled out around them, familiar and rucked up their work. Dennis took stock of the chores to be done; fence posts leaning over, sections of stone wall crumbled, crops that were almost ready for harvest. The wind cut across his face, drying the sweat pooling at his temples and for a while Dennis just let himself enjoy the quiet.
Acorn was obedient in his hands, trusting as Dennis led them towards the creek he played in as a child.
Dennis focused on that feeling, his weight balanced on the saddle and the solid press of thighs against the horse’s sides. He counted the rise and fall of his friends breathing, the slow sway of his shoulders beneath him. When his thoughts started to slip, the edges of the world wearing thin, he pulled himself back, anchored to the sound of hooves and the smell of dust.
He didn’t ponder on the thoughts of normality anymore. Resigned to the cycle of fits, repentance and cold eyes.
It hadn’t been like this when he was younger. Dennis drew out a long breath, thinking back to being a child, enjoying the closeness of brotherhood and his mother sneaking him an extra treat after dinner.
-
“Denny! Come over ’ere!”
Jesse’s voice rang out, high and excited. Dennis hovered for a moment before toddling over to his three brothers, the church hall loud and unfamiliar. It was his first time at kids’ club, finally old enough to leave the adults behind.
“This is our little brother Dennis,” Andy announced proudly, tugging him close. “He’s only small, so you gotta be careful.”
“Yeah. No messin’,” Nathan added, glaring at the other kids like a challenge.
Heat rushed to Dennis’s face, a bright blush painting his cheeks. He ducked behind Jesse, seeking the familiar safety of his brother’s back. Sensing it, Nathan crouched down in front of him.
“You alright, Den?” he asked, serious in the way only an eleven-year-old could be.
Dennis nodded, still half-hidden.
“It’s okay,” Nathan said gently, smoothing a hand over Dennis’s curls. “We’re always here for you. Dad says we gotta stick together.”
“You gonna play with us?” Andy asked, holding out his hand.
Dennis hesitated — just a second longer — then smiled.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “But only if it’s together.”
Jesse laughed. “Cause’ Den, we’re stuck like glue!”
-
The pull of imagination was easy. Growing as tall as his brothers, all of the praying he did amounting to something. Ridding him of sinful thoughts and the curse of bad luck he bought down on his undeserving family. No one would flinch when he laughed, no one would need to pray over him, hands heavy and full of disgrace.
Dennis exhaled as Acorn carried him along the curve of the creek, watching the water run over the nooks and crannies of the rock, foaming in the middle as it twisted and turned over the land. The sound of the wash sunk into his chest, unfurling the tight anxiety settled there.
Then the light shifted.
It wasn’t sudden at first. Just a wrongness at the edges of his vision, the world pulling too far away, like he was looking at it through glass. Dennis frowned, tightened his grip on the reins. He tried to ground himself, breath in, breath out, but the rhythm slipped, the horse’s movement no longer lining up with his own.
The aura hit hard and unforgiving.
Dennis didn’t have time to think before the ground rushed up to meet him.
-
Stars greeted him when he came to.
Dennis’s eyes felt impossibly heavy, and he was dimly aware of a burning pain blooming along his left-hand side. Huffing out a shallow breath, he rolled his head, the world still swimming, his body light and distant, like he was floating. He squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to gather himself, flexing the muscles in his stomach in a weak attempt to drag himself upright.
A low whine slipped from his throat. He wasn’t going anywhere fast.
Somewhere in the distance, he could hear faint cries of his name, shouts for the horse. The voices sounded underwater, warped and directionless.
Come on. Just get up.
But he couldn’t. His limbs were useless, unresponsive. Even as the fog in his head began to thin, the message didn’t quite reach his arms and legs. What he could feel was pain. The dial turned slowly, steadily, the burning sharpening into a sear along his left arm. Squirming helplessly, Dennis tried again to sit up.
Nothing.
His eyelids began to droop, the effort of trying to move draining what little strength he had left. He strained to stay awake, fought it with everything he had. His mouth opened, a sound almost forming—
Darkness took him again.
-
He woke gasping, air tearing painfully into his lungs. There was a crushing weight on his chest, ribs creaking under the pressure. His eyes flew open, panic snapping him fully awake.
A boot was planted dead centre on his sternum.
“Where’s the horse?” his father asked, voice low and dark. “Answer me, boy. Now.”
Dennis’s mouth gaped uselessly, breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
“I don’t—I fell. I don’t—” he spluttered as the boot pressed harder, fear flooding his veins. Tears spilled freely now, and Dennis cursed his body for betraying him. For always making him weak.
“You ain’t comin’ home until that horse is found, Dennis.” His father’s words were final. “Your brothers have been out lookin’ for hours. You’re lucky I found you first. They won’t be as kind to you.”
There was the threat Dennis was looking for. Being barred from the house was nothing new. He’d slept in the barn or out in the grass more often and not these days.
“I won’t tell ’em I found you,” his father continued. “I’ll tell ’em to call off the search for tonight. If you’re not back by morning with that horse—don’t bother comin’ back at all, Denny.”
-
The sun was already high when Dennis limped back to the stables, Acorn’s reins tight in his grip. He bowed his head in shame as he untacked and put him back in the stall, making sure he had some water and fresh bedding.
Dennis kept his eyes low and tried to ignore the absolute agony flaring down his arm—it hung wrong at his side, useless and burning, twisted at a crooked angle. He hadn’t been able to even ride Acorn home, unable to pull himself up to the saddle. It had taken hours to find him anyway, Dennis trawling around in the dark, throat too tight with fear of his brothers hearing to call out Acorn’s name. Luckily the horse had turned up eventually, clearly not spooked by Dennis falling off him and simply wandering slightly up the creek.
“Dennis.”
Jesse’s voice cut through his train of thought. His shoulders drew up defensively, and his right hand stilled on Acorn’s mane.
“Denny we can’t keep doing this.” Jesse sounded defeated, it was somehow worse than the anger he often regarded Dennis with. “Momma and Dad spoke with Father Stephen, there’s a pastor willing to take you in, way out East. They think he can help you overcome this… this evil.”
Dennis didn’t dare say a word.
He felt like a rabbit caught in a snare, his heartbeat fluttering in his chest.
Swallowing hard, he turned to face his brother, trying to keep a neutral expression.
Jesse was leant up against the doorway to the stables, thankfully alone. They stood at a stalemate for a few seconds, neither one speaking.
“I’m still fixin’ the roof. Won’t be done for a few more weeks” Dennis said weakly, still unable to meet Jesse’s eyes.
Snorting, Jesse walked over and forcefully grabbed Dennis’s left bicep. He couldn’t help the cry that jumped out of his throat, pain flaring down the broken limb.
“I always knew you were a coward Dennis.” Jesse muttered, before lifting his other hand to grip Dennis’s wrist, before wrenching down hard, forcing the arm straight.
Dennis screamed and crumpled, the sound torn out of him.
“Fuck,” he cried out, it was wet and hollow.
Jesse didn’t even flinch, he bent down and clapped his hand on Dennis’s bad shoulder. “You stay here now, little brother. I’ll be round in the truck in thirty minutes.”
Then he was gone, leaving Dennis to cry alone in the stables, clutching his arm to his chest like a kid of would grip a soft toy.
-
True to his word, Jesse pulled up in the truck a while later. Wordlessly, Dennis crawled in the passenger seat, noticing his rucksack stuffed to the brim sitting in the footwell. Jesse must have packed it for him.
“Can I?” Dennis started nervously, “Can I say bye, at least to Mom? I don’t know how long this pastor will take to fix me.”
Jesse gave him a cold glare, “I think its best if we just leave Den. Don’t want to upset her any more than necessary.”
Dennis swallowed dryly but didn’t protest. He guessed Jesse was right, he would only try and grovel at his parents’ feet, begging to stay and making a total fool out of himself. The least he could do is leave as quietly as possible.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but as Jesse pulled onto the main drag out of town, he turned the music up real loud. Dennis set his jaw, feeling the music thump around his brain, turning any coherent thoughts to mush. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Dennis carefully arranged his arm close to him, before leaning his head on the window, watching as his hometown, the only place he’d ever know, disappeared.
Dennis refused to let his mind wander, if he put too much thought into the situation, he would just talk himself into a panic. Which was no use, because this was happening whether he liked it all not. Resigned to his fate, Dennis just hoped the pastor would be nice, and would help him come back into the light, let him eventually return to his family, ready to make them proud.