"Fuckin' hell," the young man swore as he lay in his bed the next morning. The bright, winter sun had barely come up over the neighboring houses leaving the room dim in comparison. Activity downstairs settled on his already pounding head, the alarm clock soon to follow. An overnight glass of water stood on his nightstand, offered to his lips, then placed back where it was. A freight train of a sneeze came from the room across his and he frowned. "Thanks a lot, Mal."

Angus was sick.

A slight fever had him out of bed earlier than he would have liked, and sleep never came to take him back. With a blanket draped around his shoulders he made the trip to his parents' room, and woke up his mother. She gave in to his puppy eyes and found some medicine in the cupboard. One tablespoon and a gag later he was sent back to bed with a short visit every ten minutes. In fact, right that minute another was due in three, two-

"One more tablespoon, Angus, then I'll let you rest again." The boy sat up in bed with a groan. His shirt had been tossed on the floor in a fever induced sweat but now he was shivering. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders again and grabbed the spoon from his mother's hand. The medicine was green-currently his least favorite color, though he no doubt figured his pallor held some as well. Downing it in one try, he handed back the spoon and collapsed into bed. His mother's warm hand pressed against his forehead and cheek. Angus knew in the back of his mind that he had always taken his mother for granted. He promised he never would again.

Another promise had been made as well, one that hadn't been kept. It couldn't be. Not with him ridden with fever. His empty glass was taken off the nightstand and his mother stood a distance from the bed. "How're you doing?"

"Dunno," he mumbled. "Dizzy."

"Anything hurt?" A nod. "What?"

"Everything." He earned a look of sympathy.

"I'm sorry, son, try to get some sleep, okay?" Angus didn't answer. He knew he wouldn't get any. "I'll get you some more water." Her footsteps left the room and Angus curled himself more into his blanket. He considered grabbing his shirt from the floor but he wasn't willing to leave the bed for a second. Besides, he was too exhausted anyway. Malcolm never got this sick. Then again, Malcolm was one of the toughest guys he knew. Colds were but an inconvenience, he'd never let one cripple him. It had been a long time since Angus had one, he almost forgot how to be sick. Or at least, how to deal with it.

"Here Mum, I'll give it to him."

Speak of the devil...

"Hey, Angus," a slightly better than hoarse voice said. A groan came from inside the blanket. "You up for a walk today? Here's your water."

"I feel like complete shit, Malcolm."

"So do I, I never let it stop me."

"I have a fever. You didn't. And right now my balls are freezing over under this blanket and will break off if I leave. So." Angus pulled the blanket over his head as Malcolm ripped it completely away. "The fuck are ya' doin'?"

"Come on, we've got to get goin' to Hannah's, we'll get your scarf and hat on, let's go."

"I am stayin' right in this bed, now give me the fuckin' blanket." Angus made a grab for it but only managed to snatch a corner and lose it. "Come on, let go!"

"Angus, you promised!" The older boy almost sounded like a child with his whine. The game of tug of war only proved their youth.

"I'll see her this afternoon!"

"When it's probably too late? We'll just go now an' go together." Angus once again grabbed a hold of the blanket and grasped onto more than a corner.

"You're the one who got me sick in the first place, this is your fault!"

"What, I did nothing!"

"Stuck all your damn tissues in my face!" Malcolm laughed to himself.

"Oh, right." The blanket continued to be stretched at the seams when their mother walked in.

"Malcolm, what on Earth are you doing?" she asked with impatience. Both boys turned to the doorway where the woman stood, hands folded over her chest.

"Ang's got to come with me," he started to explain but she wouldn't hear of it.

"He has a fever, Malcolm, he'll be staying in bed until he feels better." Angus shot a smug look and lay back down, wrenching the blanket from his brother's hands and curling up inside. "I've just given him medicine, he'll be up for it soon."

"But Hannah's-" Malcolm stopped himself short. Arguing with his mother never did any good, and when Angus had inherited her stubbornness, neither one was going to budge any time soon.

"I'll be over there, Mal, I still promise you that." Malcolm looked back and forth between the woman and potato bug. With a shrug he placed his hands in his pockets and backed out of the room.

"Fine. I'm goin' over there then. Don't know when I'll be back. Angus," he nodded toward his brother. "Mum."

"How's she doing, everything alright with her and her mum?" Mrs. Young asked before the boy could leave.

"Uh, not sure. She hasn't really updated anything." He cleared his throat. "I'll let you know when I get home, Ang?" No answer. He was asleep. His mother gently pushed him out the door and closed it behind both of them. With a few more light sneezes, Malcolm was out the front door and on his way down the road.

It was three o' clock long after the time Malcolm had come home. Angus had finally woken from his sleep and trod downstairs. He was warmly dressed even though the temperature had risen a good few degrees. Malcolm noticed his presence from the table and faced him. "'Bout time, you goin'?"

"Yeah," he sniffed. Fixing his scarf and shifting his hat, he sat down on the couch to tie his shoes. Malcolm silently watched him. "Woke up about an hour ago, still feel a little dizzy."

"It's been a long time hasn't it?"

"Yeah, hope she recognizes me," Angus snickered. "Don't know how long I'll be stayin'." Malcolm felt a lump in his throat form and he choked it down. With both shoes tied, Angus stood and stomped the ground with each foot as if trying them out. Feeling in his pockets he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Careful, Ang, Mum's still here ya' know. Dad's in his study."

"Well, I'm goin' now, they won't see," he answered, still checking around him. Placing the stick in his mouth he lit it, and grasped it with his fingers. Malcolm tapped his knuckles on the table, glancing at his watch then back at his brother.

"You nervous?"

"A little." A lot.

"Anxious to see her again?"

"Always am," Angus mumbled.

"What was that?" Malcolm asked leaning forward.

He hesitated for a minute, then shook his head. "Nothin'." After watching him stand there smoke for a bit, he spoke up again.

"You've about an hour, ya' know."

"For what?"

"An hour left."

"Yeah, until what?" Malcolm didn't answer and instead grabbed his glass from the table and returned it to the sink for more water. Angus frowned at being ignored and scoffed, once more fixing his hat and heading for the door.

"Angus."

"Yeah?" he asked in his groggy voice, the cool air blowing through the open door.

"...give her one last hug for me."

"What f-" Angus was cut short as Malcolm took his glass with him out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. His retreating footsteps pounded up each step and his bedroom door closed. With a shake of the head, he was out the door.

The wind had picked up a bit now and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His head was still spinning a little and he had to keep a slow pace in order to stay upright. His meandering gait also stirred his thoughts more than that of a quick one. What would he say when he got there? Would she be happy to see him, or completely pissed? Maybe he should have brought her something...nah, she'd think he was up to something. Besides, only couples gave things to each other like that.

One hour left...

Malcolm's words repeated in his mind. Realizing his watch was not where it should have been, he walked a little bit faster. Only a little. Walking too fast would result in him falling to the ground, ensuring his trip to be for naught. Like a turtle he nuzzled his face in his scarf, only taking it out once in a while to have at his cigarette. His hat held some curls in his face keeping his forehead warm. Kids walked down the sidewalk going the opposite direction, all in school uniforms. None of them recognized them, either due to his hidden appearance or simply due to their lack of acquaintance. Neither explanation would surprise him. He just moved out of their way.

Up one street and down another, he recalled the roads he would take with Hannah as they walked to his house from school. He remembered the day they explored the music shop together, and the look on her face when he suggested it. That guitar he always wanted and would stop at nothing to have...perhaps just a peek wouldn't hurt. The detour would barely make a dent in the hour he had left.

Glancing down both sides of the street he crossed it, and came up to the big glass windows. Out of respect his cigarette was crushed and thrown away and he slowly stepped inside. Everything looked the same; amplifiers were still stacked against the wall and guitars still hung here and there. Bracing himself, he walked to the other side of the window and there, next to the Fender, was his prized soon-to-be-in-his possession. A brown Gibson SG, with all six strings still intact. The price tag still hung from the neck, blowing from the breeze under the door. Surely it was still too expensive for his pocket, but...he couldn't help but notice...if he squinted, he could see the number on the tag...appeared to have been scratched off with marker.

He could only hope the price was lower. Any more and he'd have to take his father's advice and get a job like Malcolm. After hearing more about it, he wasn't too thrilled. What fun was there to have if you couldn't take your work home? Standing on his tip toes did no good, and he wished he had someone on his shoulders to take a look for him. He wouldn't drop her this time.

Looking behind him at the front desk, he didn't see anyone. No one else was inside the store, and if anyone was working today, they weren't available to tell him the new price. He brought his hand out of his pocket to cough harshly into. His nose was burning from the cold and he really wished for a tissue. A nice soft one.

He considered waiting for the man at the desk to come out, so he could inquire. Waiting might prove to be wasteful, however a few minutes later someone emerged. He was tall and lanky, short brown hair with green eyes. Angus watched him carry a box with him from the back full of albums. As he stocked the shelves Angus noticed how he sort of threw them there. He was a bit sloppy with his work, and none of the albums stood straight. He knew right away Hannah would fix them had she been there. A Monkees album was placed next to Little Richard. He smiled as he remembered the present he gave her used to roll the carpet out for his main question. He remembered the hug she gave him and the smile that she wore. One sock rolled up with the other felled down, her hair tied up while she taught him the much needed yet useless algebra. The night at the dance- "Hey kid."

"Huh?"

"You got them googly eyes on ya', ya' know. Kind of freaking me out."

"Oh," Angus said shaking his head. "Sorry." The man only laughed.

"Thinkin' 'bout a girl, were ya'?"

"Mmm, in a way."

"Figures. You were starin' at me though, had to make sure." Angus gave a half smile at him. "Need somethin'?"

"No uh, jus' lookin'." The boy walked away from the desk and scanned the shelves full of the messy work ethic. "Had to see if my guitar was still here too."

"Is it?" Angus nodded in the direction of his prize. "Oh, I see. Your guitar, huh? Heh, well I hear the expensive ones are the ones they don't let touch the ground."

"Tell me about it," he sighed. "Well, it's still here an' that's all that matters I guess."

"Surely you didn't come all the way here jus' for that," the man said. "Or were you jus' making a quick stop?"

"Uh, you could say that."

"Your girlfriend's house?" he asked with a grin. Angus didn't grin as much.

"No, just a friend's."

"Does she think that too?" He stopped walking toward the exit and turned around.

"Look, I've got to go, I'm short on time as it is, an' there's no use tellin' a man I've never seen before all of my...wait a minute..." Angus said squinting his eyes at the man. Dumbfounded how he couldn't put two and two together, he realized this was not the man he knew that worked here. "Hey, where's the other guy that was here?"

"Oh, you knew him?"

"Sort of," he shrugged.

"He kind of got fired, ya' know."

"Fired?"

"Yeah, this is my first day here actually. This place almost closed down because he was the only one who ran it. I just moved here lookin' for a job an' landed this one. Good thing too, or 'your guitar' would have been shipped off to Bangladesh."

"You, wouldn't happen to know what happened to the other bloke, would you?"

"I heard he got in trouble for mouthin' off to a customer not too long ago. Don't know who it was, some old woman I think. She kept hasslin' him or whatever an' he finally had enough of it." The man set the box down on the table in front of him and leaned one arm on it. "Ya' know, rumor has it that a kid around your age gave him the idea." Angus' eyes turned wide.

"You don't say," he stuttered.

"Yeah, he told the cops, 'cause of course the lady's gotta call 'em, he says he doesn't regret a thing, an' he'll look for a job back in his home town. With nary a nickel in his pocket but with pride on his face." A small grin crept its way to his lips, but guilt settled over his heart like a fog. He really hadn't meant to cost the man so much. Though Mrs. Banker deserved every mouth full. "Well, guess you'd better get goin' now, don't want to miss seein' your, 'friend'."

"What? Oh uh, yeah. Bye." As he stepped his way to the door, the man called out again.

"Next time bring her here, maybe I'll give ya' both a discount!" With a smile and a nod, Angus closed the door behind him.

Meandering down the streets again he found himself in a familiar area. Being daytime he didn't recognize it at first, but he could feel something was off. The gate, the brick building...the sharp corner he bumped into someone trying to turn it. His eye started hurting again as he thought of that dreadful night. What started as his dream turned into his nightmare. He dragged himself to Hannah's house only to, to...

Why couldn't he remember?

His one hour left had been cut in half now without telling him, so he thought he had plenty of time to take a walk around the area and try to recall that night. Most of it he didn't want to, but the missing pieces were still scattered in his mind. Maybe if he could pick them up...

"Angus!"

Who now?

"There you are," a girl said, running up to him. Her long blonde hair was in curls and she pushed them behind her petite shoulders. Out of breath from running, her voice was sweet like honey and her uniform messy, but cute.

"Susan," he addressed. She smiled in return.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she said twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. "About, you know."

"I'm afraid so," he answered coldly. She winced at his tone, but knew she had to endure it. She knew she deserved it. "Go ahead, talk away."

"Angus, please, you have to listen."

"I'm listening."

With a shift from her heels to her toes she placed her arms behind her back and looked to the ground. Angus stood there silently, hands still in his pockets, eyes narrowed. He sighed as he waited for her to talk. "I'm so sorry about what I did, I didn't mean any of it-"

"I figured."

"No, that's not what I meant to say. I mean, I was hanging out with Johnny and the guys. They're not so swell guys you understand." Angus nodded.

"I should think so," he stated rubbing his eye. Susan bit her lip.

"How is it?"

"Hurts." With a wring of her hands she dared to take a step closer to him.

"I didn't mean for it to go this far," she whispered. Her pretty hands were red from scratching them and squeezing them, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. It made Angus uncomfortable to see her this way. "When you ran away from me I felt hurt...after trying so hard to get your attention, all for nothing." Angus took a sharp step toward her.

"What about me, huh? After all those years of tryin' to get your attention and gettin' pushed aside for a bastard? Got tired of it, Susan." He coughed into his elbow as he moved away from her. His voice was getting more hoarse every word he spoke.

"Are you okay?" she asked calmly after he had finished.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Johnny asked where I ran off to, and I couldn't lie to him. If I did he'd-" She shook her head of the thought and continued. Angus raised his eyebrow at her. "So I told him I had gone to see you for a bit, and he-he came up with the rest. I'm sure he saw us, Angus. I'm sure he saw me."

"Why didn't you fuckin' say anything, Susan?" Angus spat at her. "I'm gettin' the shit beat out of me an' you just stand there and let him!" Tears pooled in her blue eyes and she quickly wiped them away. Angus stood there waiting for her to talk, suddenly feeling a little sorry. What she did was wrong, but yelling at her for it would never solve it. Johnny would take care of that for him. It was him he should be mad at. Then Angus thought of what Malcolm had told him the day before. He decided the real villain of the story couldn't be named. Putting a hand to her shoulder, he spoke softer. "Hey, I'm sorry for yellin' at ya', I'm sorry." Susan's tears spilled over in a soft weep. Angus hesitantly wrapped his arms around her while she cried into his shoulder. Soon enough however, she pulled away.

"No, I'm sorry," she hiccuped. "I wanted-wanted to say s-something, but I knew he-he would take it out on m-me, and I was scared to-" Angus once again pulled her in for a hug, a real one. Her crying continued but she didn't try to stop it this time. Her arms stayed stiff by her side as her body was wracked with sobs. A few minutes passed as she eventually calmed down. Looking up from his shoulder her fair face was flushed and her eyes red. Angus felt bad again for not having tissues on him. Wiping her tears away she smiled at him. "I've known this whole time you liked me, Angus," she finally said, her breaths still choppy. "I will admit I never felt the same."

"Kind of got the picture a long time ago," he answered. He didn't think it right to tell her of his plan before the dance, not right now. "Did Jackass used to be a good guy to you or somethin'?"

She was hesitant to answer. Finally rolling up her sleeves she revealed a few light bruises on her arms. Angus stared at them in shock, then thought it rude and looked away. She was also staring at them. "These are his. All of them. He's never hit me, it's just-his hands are big, and his grip is strong." She rolled her sleeves down. Angus shifted his weight from one foot to the next looking anywhere but her.

"Are-are they recent?"

"One of them is, the others are kind of faded. This only started a few months ago, he didn't use to handle me so. It's-what I get, I suppose."

"No, it's not," Angus argued. His eyes stared right back into hers now, hiding nothing. "You don't deserve any of this, no one does."

"After what I did to you, Angus, I'd say otherwise."

"Hey, I've forgotten about that now," he grinned. She shook her head with one of her own.

"Yeah, right. Look, maybe I don't deserve his treatment, but-he didn't deserve what he got dealt either. You-do you know?" Angus nodded. "I feel, if I leave him, then I'm throwing him out for life to strangle."

"Stayin' with him isn't your best bet either, ya' know."

"I know," she sighed. "I just-he's got some things to work out. He'll work them out and everything will go back to normal." She took Angus' hand in hers and smiled. "Though I have to admit I feel bad turnin' you down. You grew up well." Angus blushed.

"Thanks."

"But I know someone who'd be much better for you than I would," she winked. The boy smiled in return and squeezed her hand.

"And who might that be?" he asked.

"You know very well who. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were off to her house right now." She bit her lip wondering if he knew what he was going to her house for. A certain look entertained his face, one of thought and consideration.

"You're right, I am."

"Neither one of you have been to school for a few days, is everything okay between you two?"

"Oh yeah," he reassured. "Hannah I guess got sick of her mum's parenting tactics an' me...well, I took a week long recovery," he smiled. Susan smiled sadly back at him, taking her hand away from his.

"I really am sorry about that. Let me make it better." She surprised him when standing on her tip toes, she closed her eyes and kissed his cheek. A few weeks ago he would have melted right at her feet. But a yearning in his heart kept him standing. She pulled away and laughed at his crimson face. "Better?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks."

"Well, you ought to get going. I'll see you later, Ang." Susan turned around and began walking back to her own place. Angus slowly turned to go when he heard someone shout his name. "Angus wait!" Susan came running back to him panting.

"What is it?" She removed her school bag and rummaged through it. Angus watched with curiosity but also impatience as he had no idea how much of his hour was left.

A crumpled piece of paper found its way to her fingers and she grasped it and pulled it from the pile of school supplies. "I've been meaning to tell you, you remember that note you asked me about? The day of that party in your basement we all got busted for?" Angus laughed.

"Yeah, that one. What about it?"

"I told you I got a lot of notes from a lot of guys, but I didn't mention how little notes from girls I get." He raised an eyebrow again. "I guess you put the wrong one in my locker, eh?" The paper changed hands and was unfolded. Angus' name was written at the top in cursive with three words written after...

I love you

His hands were shaking. His heart was wrenching its way out of his chest. Every feeling of confusion was suddenly replaced by one thought. One emotion he had so long fought against, but let have the final word. It consumed him entirely and he let that happen too. Only when he was detained from these feelings did he realize their true extent. He was sure of it now. He knew what he had to do.

Placing the paper in his pocket he turned away from Susan and began walking down the street. "Are you okay, Angus?" Susan called after him.

"I've never been better!" he yelled back in his hoarse voice. "You tell the whole school the news! On Monday, get up to the front of every class and spread the word!"

"What's the word?" Susan cupped her hands around her mouth as she called to him.

"I'm in love with her!" With the biggest smile he could manage, he took off down the street at full speed. Disregarding any symptoms he had as they were masked by euphoria and joy. His heart had leaped from his chest and was running alongside him, cheering him on. He was flying; he could have sworn his feet had never touched the ground in those minutes. Every corner he turned he had to throw himself around or he would have just run right past it in his flight. Rumbling from a passing vehicle was feet away from hitting him, but on he flew.

Turning on the final street gave him the biggest adrenaline rush he ever had. His hat almost flew off from the wind and his scarf had blocked his vision more than once. Finally it was in his sight. Her house. His stride had lengthened and he reached her front door in seconds. Fixing his disheveled appearance he coughed up a storm into his arm. The sudden exercise had knocked the wind out of him and he couldn't breathe an ounce of air. Once he gained control of his lungs once more, he let his heart do the knocking. Loud enough for sure.

Still breathing hard, no one came to answer the door for him, and he knocked again. Louder. He knew Hannah's mother would probably be less than eager to open the door for him, but this was important! Deciding he was making quite a scene, he thought maybe knocking on a few windows would get their attention. Sneaking into someone else's backyard wasn't foreign to him, especially at a time like this. With quick and clumsy steps, he made his way past the gate and right up to the kitchen window.

Looking inside, there was no one there. It was dark, but the sunlight outside shone through. Looking again, he realized the whole room looked bare. The counter was completely clear, the table was gone as were the chairs. Angus squinted his eyes in confusion. Were they redecorating? He moved on to the next window out in front, the living room. Presenting itself was the same thing: an empty room.

Now he was getting nervous. Maybe they had been robbed and needed help inside? Angus made his way up back up the porch steps and tried the doorknob. Locked. He envied girls at the moment, for keeping little clips and hair things that were able to pick locks. Long fingernails even. He searched the grass for any broken glass he could use. Luckily enough he found a stray picture frame hook on one of the steps and inserted it into the keyhole.

Fiddling with it he finally managed to activate the tumblers inside and slowly pushed the door open. His steps echoed every time he took one. "Hello?" he called. His voice filled the empty barren room. "Anybody here?" His eyes caught a glimpse of the stairs leading to Hannah's room. Swiftly he made his way over.

Finding her room he fidgeted with his hands. He had never been up here alone, Hannah was with him last time. What would her mother think about this? With a shaky hand he knocked on her door. "Hannah? You in there, ya' walnut?" Opening the door made him nervous, but he did it anyway. "Hannah?" Her room was empty.

No bed, no dresser, no Hannah. Angus stepped inside and looked around. The whole place was deserted. As if no one had ever lived here. As if he had just imagined the whole thing. His hand felt the note in his pocket for assurance. There had to be some logical reason for this. Malcolm would know. He would have to spill the news now, if he couldn't ask the girl. With one last look around, he returned to the first floor.

"Hello? Hannah, are you here?" he tried again. He should have known it was useless, no one was there. The boy stepped outside and closed the door after him. The house didn't look as scary on the outside. It was only when the door was opened that its true horror was revealed. Once again Angus was flying down the street, all his joy gone.

His own front door slammed open to his bidding and he stormed inside. "Where is she?" he called out.

"Who?" Malcolm answered from the table. His guitar was in his lap being tuned and strummed slowly and sadly.

"You know damn well who, now where is she?" Angus shoved everything in his path aside to get to his brother. Malcolm stared up at him with gloomy eyes.

"What are you talkin' about, wasn't she there?" The boy was grabbed by the younger and hoisted to his feet, the guitar crashing to the ground.

"No! She wasn't there at all, I ran to her house an'-an' everything was just gone! Where is she?" Malcolm's voice cracked as he tried to explain to his frantic brother.

"You were too late, Angus," he answered. Angus frowned at him. "They must have left before you got there."

"What are you talkin' about?" I still had plenty of time! I ran there as fast as I could-I almost got hit by a fuckin' TRUCK to get to her house, I can't be too late! Too late for what?" Malcolm placed his hands on Angus' quivering shoulders.

"Hannah's movin' back to the states with her mum," he explained. "She's been tryin' to tell you for a while now, but things never seemed to work out. Was-was she really gone?" he asked trying to choke back any tears. Angus was fuming. Hot angry tears poured down his face as he shoved Malcolm back into the chair.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?! You just kept your mouth shut the entire time, watchin' me suffer now?"

"It was Hannah's job to tell you, an' you were ignorin' her! Trust me, Ang, I was gonna tell you myself but it was her burden to carry! Don't get upset at us for this." Malcolm was shoved out of the chair onto the ground.

"It's not my fault either! I'm not the one tellin' his brother he doesn't know his own feelings and keepin' him away from his friend, I'm not the one keepin' secrets from his brother, I'm not the one..." Angus' voice broke off into quiet tears. He stood there with his head down, hands clenched, nails digging into his palms. Malcolm watched him for a moment then slowly stood up. Tears had come down his face too. "And you-" he cried. "you're not the one who loves her."

Angus was pulled in for a hug at his brother's will. Both arms wrapped tightly around him, one hand rubbing his back. "I do love her, Ang, just like I love you," he spoke quietly. "I'm h-hurting too, ya' know."

"You-you got to s-say goodbye," Angus whimpered into his brother's shoulder. "I'll never see her ag-ain, and-" Mrs. Young had heard a commotion from her bedroom and hurried to investigate. Mr. Young had been in his study but also heard the noise.

"That truck must have been the moving van," Malcolm wondered aloud. "I bet she just left." Angus cried harder. Their parents showed up from different sides of the room, both with confused and worried expressions on their faces.

"What's that matter?" Mrs. Young asked coming up to her sons. She brushed the hair back from Angus' face and lightly gasped at his wet and red eyes. He looked away embarrassed to be seen in such a manner by his mother. But eventually he didn't care anymore. A deathly cough came from the younger boy landing on the older. Mrs. Young felt her son's forehead. "Angus, your fever is back, are you feeling okay?" Rage boiled in his blood again.

"If you hadn't gotten me sick, I could have seen her on time!" he yelled pushing his brother away. "This is all your fault!"

"It's not anyone's fault!" Malcolm yelled back. Once again he got shoved to the ground, but this time Angus didn't hold back. His hands were clenched into fists as he attacked Malcolm. Mr. Young rushed over and pulled Malcolm away from Angus but the boy didn't quit. Mrs. Young had to hold her son back to keep him from hurting anyone else within range, even if it meant getting herself hurt.

"Stay over here, Malcolm, your mother's got him." Malcolm watched through painful tears as his brother was restrained by their mother and taken upstairs. He put up a fight the whole way, trying to break loose and take his anger out on his brother. It hurt like hell to see him like that.

Angus was dragged up the stairs in a sick and crazed mess. His hat had fallen off in the scuffle and his scarf was undone. After holding him in her arms for a few minutes all while whispering calmly to him, he finally calmed down enough to be released a little. His mother took a good look at him. Sweat glistened on his forehead despite his shivering, and his face was flushed. "C'mon, let's get you to bed, huh?" His sheets were pulled back as his mother took the jacket off of him. Slowly the bed was occupied, Angus laying shaking, hiccuping every breath. A hand reached down to dry his tears and push his hair back. Tears had formed in her eyes too. She knew exactly what happened.

The piece of paper Susan gave to him had been taken in Angus' hands before his jacket was removed. He was sure not to let anyone see it. "I'll be right back with some water, okay? Some water and medicine." With a kiss on the head, Mrs. Young left the room.

Angus could hear voices downstairs, some quiet, some yelling. He pulled the paper from under the blankets and looked at it. With shaky hands he crumpled it up and threw it as hard as he could. He didn't know where it landed nor did he care. What he had really cared most about was gone.

What started as his dream turned into his nightmare.