Dangerous Objectives

 

© Sweet Kisses™

 

~*~

 

Kevin lay curled up in a fetal position on the freezing-cold navy tiles in the bathroom of the cabin that he and Nick were forced to share. The one with only one bedroom and one bed. The bedroom and bed that Nick had claimed for his own and this time, did not eloquently ask Kevin to share with him. This time, Nick was not so kind, not so needy and not so influenced by someone who was older than he and who was supposed to be wiser than he.

Though…who was to say who was acting older or who was wiser in the situation before them both? Because as far as their psychologist was concerned, she considered them all highly juvenile. Every last one of them.

 

Kevin clutched his stomach and winced in pain, groaning softly, the sound echoing through the quiet room, the silvery beam of the high full moon casting a glow across his body. But what they didn’t know was why Kevin had started using drugs, cocaine and heroin to be exact, in the first place. Growing up, he knew he never wanted to live the so-called ‘drug’ life, if ever it existed in the world. He never wanted to be an addict, he wanted to be healthy, happy and have the respect of his friends and family around him.

 

Most importantly, he wanted his father to be proud of him, for Kevin to grow up and have his father value him as his son.

 

Problem one, first and foremost.

 

Kevin’s father died when Kevin was at the tender age of only nineteen. A very young age by anyone’s standards, a form of cancer that inevitably took his father’s life. And once his father had died, Kevin had been very angry, very aggressive, very hostile and refused to talk to anyone about what or how he was feeling. Problem two. He allowed his emotions to stay within him and refused to let them out. He thought that he could deal with them in his own way, in his own form, and he was right. To an extent.

 

His way of dealing with his father’s death had resulted in a meeting with a colleague, Jerry, who had his 'contacts'. So…one day, the shy country boy from Lexington, gathered up enough courage to ask ‘Jerry’ just what goods could get him through the day without him thinking of never seeing his father ever again.

 

Kevin crawled over to the toilet on his hands and knees, kneeled over, and threw up every memory that he ever had.

 

“Hey, Jerry,” nineteen year-old Kevin said in a hushed voice, patting him on the shoulder. “I was wondering…you know…about what you were talking about the other day…do you think you could…?”

 

Jerry smiled smugly. Poor little Kevin looked like a helpless lamb. He thought it was priceless. “Ahh, so you’ve decided to give in. You naughty little boy! But I like it.” He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “What did you have in mind?”

 

Kevin’s lower lip trembled and his eyes roamed back and forth, surveying the area vigilantly. He didn’t want to get caught. “I don’t know,” he whispered, shrugging. “What do you think?”

 

Jerry stepped closer to Kevin and looked both ways with narrowed, snake green eyes. He quickly thrust a small plastic package that contained what looked like white powder into Kevin’s jacket. “Consider it a loan. If you have any problems or questions, call me. If you get caught with it and you mention where and who you got it from, you’re a dead man. Got it?”

 

Kevin’s heart was racing off the scale. He nodded quickly, nervously. “Yeah, I got it.”

 

Jerry smiled smugly again and patted Kevin’s shoulder. “Enjoy, buddy.”

 

Kevin released his grip and fell flat on his back, on the tiles again. He groaned softly again, clutching his stomach. He began having flashbacks of his childhood, playing football with his father, all the times that he spent with his father and he never valued any of it. Took every single moment that he ever had with his father for granted and never knew, never even considered the possibility that one day soon he would never see him again. Tears were streaking his cheeks at the memories.

 

He was selfish. Downright selfish. That’s what he was. He never even knew that his father could die so soon, and just leave him. Like he didn’t even care about him. Like he didn’t care about anything. How could his father just leave him when Kevin needed him the most? Who gave him the right to do that? How could he do that to someone he supposedly loved?

 

Kevin struggled for breath. “Help…I hate you…I hate you so much for doing this…to me…” he gasped and vomited again.

 

Nick heard strange sounds from the bathroom. He thought he was dreaming something really twisted. All he heard was mumbling and strange gasping, guttural sounds. He sat up in bed and listened through the darkness for more bizarre, alien-like sounds. And after several moments, he heard them again. What the hell was going on? He crept towards the bathroom, on guard and ready to attack if necessary. But what he found was something that he wasn’t ready for, something that he would never expect, not in a million goddamn years.

 

It was Kevin, curled up on the tiles like a baby, trembling violently, sweating chronically, mumbling unintelligent words. Nick gasped, switched on the light and threw himself down on the floor. He lifted Kevin’s head and gently placed it against his leg. Suddenly, he began to panic for no amount of slapping Kevin’s cheeks would bring him out of it.

 

“Kevin, what the hell’s the matter? What have you done to yourself? Why are you doing this? HELP!” he screamed.

 

But nothing and no one helped.

 

Nick grabbed a towel, placed Kevin’s head against it on the floor and jumped up with an idea in mind. “I’m going to get help. I’ll be back, promise.”

 

With that, he kissed Kevin’s forehead and began to run like he had never run before, like his whole life depended on it. And maybe it did. He ran through the cool night, to the one person that had any chance of helping Kevin at all. Dr Sheffield. And while he was running, adrenalin ran through his body at a rapid rate and his heart was pounding in his chest. He reached Dr Sheffield’s cabin and punched the door several times with his fist.

 

“Help! Dr Sheffield! Help me! Please!”

 

A few moments later, a sleepy-eyed doctor opened the door, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “What? It’s three in the morning!”

 

Nick’s hands were shaking, and so was his voice, which was high-pitched and jumpy. “It’s Kevin…and he’s…he’s…he needs help! You have to help him! Please! Please, Dr Sheffield, help him!”

 

Dr Sheffield sighed and chased after Nick, who was already running back toward the cabin that he and Nick shared, the doctor carrying a medical kit if necessary. She didn’t remember running as fast as she had right then. Well, apart from that time when a crazy psycho lunatic who she was treating a few years back starting stalking her and tried to kill her with an army knife. Dr Sheffield had run for her life from the crazy psycho, just like she was running then.

 

Although she knew that Kevin, or Nick, weren’t like that. She truly wanted to help them, and when she saw a trembling Kevin with pale skin and blue lips curled up on the floor, her heart immediately went out to them both. And then…she saw the full extent of Nick’s feelings for Kevin. That was as obvious as the day was long.

 

“How long has he been like this?” she asked softly, handing Nick a hand-towel and ordering him to soak it in cold water. “How long?”

 

Nick shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know!” he cried, tears running down his face. “I was so mean to him, and now…he might…never...get better!”

 

Dr Sheffield reached out for the hand towel and placed it on Kevin’s forehead. She gently stroked Kevin’s cheeks. “He’s having withdrawal symptoms. He’s stopped using and it’s killing him.” She began to croon soft words. “Shh, Kevin, you’re going to be all right. Don’t worry, you’ll be all right now. Shh…”

 

Nick brushed away his tears. “He’s going to be okay?”

 

Dr Sheffield looked up from the floor. “It happens to addicts, so don’t think that Kevin’s the only one. Help me put him back to bed.” After a struggle of carrying Kevin from the bathroom to where Nick had been sleeping, they had managed it. The doctor had proved to be stronger than she looked. She peered down at Kevin laying across the bed. “Keep the hand-towel cold on his forehead, that’ll bring down his temperature. Make sure he stays cool. Keep something by the bed if he needs to vomit again. Sorry, but I don’t think you’ll be sleeping much from now until morning.”

 

Nick suddenly looked determined. “I don’t care, as long as he gets better. He is going to be okay.”

 

“He should be all right by morning,” she replied, looking Kevin over again. “He’s hurting right now, and I really feel for him. It’s tough going through this. He’ll need your help, Nick. He’ll need all your help” She patted Nick on the shoulder on her way out. “You did well. Real well.”

 

Nick sat down beside the bed and gently took hold of Kevin’s hand. He did just what he had been told to do and took care of Kevin, to make sure he’d be better again. And when he was, then maybe, just maybe, Nick would tell Kevin how he really and truly felt about him.

 

~**~