Claire

Claire's heart pounded in her ears. Her hand trembled. She took a deep breath, and untangled her fingers from the belt loop of the boy's pants. Sheer luck had let her catch him. She'd heard the door open and twisted and grabbed desperately and for a second his life hung by a thin, battered strip of denim. They'd been driving forty miles an hour; jumping out of the car at that speed he'd have been paste!

“Are you insane?” she yelled, leaning into the back seat to close the door.

He looked down, trembling slightly in her grip. Her arm ached from the sudden jarring at such an awkward angle. She felt guilty even noticing that tiny bit of injury compared to the pain he was in, but then again his insane dive out the door was the reason she hurt so, maybe it was okay to be annoyed but he might have a good reason and now she felt guilty again because he was obviously utterly terrified.

“Seriously, why did you do that?” she made herself speak softly. He didn't need her yelling at him.

“No hospital,” he gasped out.

She untangled her grip on his pants and shifted around so she could face him squarely.

“What? Why? You're hurt. You're hurt so bad I don't know how you haven't bled out already. You need help, more help than I can give you. Just let me take you to the emergency room. They'll help.”

“No,” he said.

“Why not? Can you give me just one reason? Please?”

He looked away, and she figured he wouldn't tell her anything. She had to figure out how to get him into the emergency room without hurting him more. As weak as he was, simply scooping him into her arms and carrying him was a viable option. He wouldn't like it, but she could apologize once he was safe and feeling better.

“He will find me,” the boy whispered.

“Who?”

“My master.”

Claire blinked. That was around about the last thing she'd expected to hear.

“Your what?” she squeaked.

Had he really just said master? As in owner?

The boy just looked at her. He raised his arms a little, displaying the weird bracelet things latched around his wrists. They were the weirdest jewelry she'd seen in a while, a pair of matched metal bands around each wrist, made of hammered silver, each a quarter inch thick and about an inch wide. They sat tight against his skin; she'd been unable to move them out of the way when she was bandaging his arms. She looked from those, to the collar, to the wounds on his bare chest.

Yeah, she'd heard him right. God. This was a kid. He couldn't be older than fourteen, at most. And some monster was out there who'd tortured, beaten, and abused him. Made him call him master. And left him to die out in a storm. Someone he was so afraid of he'd rather bleed out in a stranger's car than face him.

“Okay,” Claire said. She took a deep breath, and twisted the car's ignition key so that the heater would stay on but the engine would stay idle. She twisted around so that she could face the boy without being in his space. She resisted the urge to hit the “door lock” button at her elbow. If he really felt like he needed to run, he had that right. The idea of such a hurt, frightened child running out into the darkness and storm made her feel queasy, but she had to respect his rights. Because it was looking like she'd be the first person to do so in far, far too long.

“Okay, I get it. You're scared this master of yours will find you, if you go to the hospital. But we can tell the nurses, and security will keep out anyone you don't want to see. They'll protect you.”

He shook his head, slowly but firmly. “No. He is... wealthy. Powerful.” He tugged at one of the bracelets. “He always gets his way.”

Claire wanted to deny that, to promise him that he was safe. But, well. Her mother worked for Children's Services. Claire wasn't naive. She'd heard her mother ranting, crying, raging. About the ones she couldn't save. About reports that went missing, about cases that should have gone one way that a fancy, expensive lawyer made go another. She knew what wealth and influence could buy a person.

“Not this time,” Claire said instead.

“Okay. No hospital, for the moment," Claire agreed.

She looked down at his wrists, where he was still tugging at the bracelet thing. “You want those off?”

He looked up at her, and nodded fervently. Then he grabbed the sides of his head. More than likely nodding made him dizzy. Or he had a concussion. Or both.

“Figured you might,” Claire said. “Okay, then. Make a deal with me? I have friends, who live nearby. They have metal working tools; they should have something that can get those off your wrists.”

“In... return?” he gasped out.

“In return,” Claire said, “You let me help you. I'm not asking you to trust me, you don't know me from Adam, but maybe the benefit of the doubt? And if you get any worse, if you pass out on me or... or anything, I take you to the hospital, no more diving into traffic. Deal?”

He looked away, staring out the window in the general direction of the hospital. Finally, he looked back at her.

“Agreed.”

Claire nodded. “Okay. Then buckle up, please. I know it's not comfortable, but I don't trust this weather. If we hit a deep spot, this little car will hydroplane like no one's business.”

He didn't say anything to that, but he did replace his seat belt. Claire reattached her own belt and turned the key to revive the engine.

She drove cautiously, knuckles white on the steering wheel. She hadn't been exaggerating when she told him how easy it would be for the storm to send them into a spin. Claire was usually a confident driver but this storm was something out of her realm of experience.