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Archive-name: Samesex/majlea05.txt


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 


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 


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.


" 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 


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 


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 


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 


"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 


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 


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 


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 


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 


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 


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 


"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 


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 


"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 


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' 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 


"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 


"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 



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 


"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 


"But they didn't did they? I guess they are with Luis."


"Nothing, Raf. Just relax. They won't find us here," I said 


"How do you know? They found me back there and you said they 


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 


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 


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 


"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 


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 


"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)


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