Chapter 2 - A Cop's Son

Brad Morton, had always been a little older than his fellow students, which was caused by him repeating the third grade a couple of times. Brad wasn't slow, as some people may have thought, it was because he had a lot on his mind during those years, even for a eight year old. He had never lived up to his father's unbelievably high standards, not like his three older sisters.

Being his father's only son, he was expected to do all the things a father would want from his boy, but that just wasn't Brad. In truth, he loved all the things his older sisters were into, which included ballet and dance. He also loved his many instrumental lessons, much to his father's dismay. His father, Hector, was disappointed to learn that Brad had no interest in any type of sport and urged him to play football as he had as a child. Brad stood his ground in what he wanted to do, and though his father didn't like his choice, he loved the fact that his son was strong and fought for what he wanted and loved. Those, he knew, were the qualities of a good man.

Eventually, Brad broke down and gave into his father wishes, but only after his mother's death. Her death hit everyone hard. Even to this day, the first time Brad entered the third grade, was nothing but a blur of sadness.

The second time Brad entered the third grade, he noticed his father's grief over his mother's death and realized he couldn't remember the last time he had seen him laugh or even smile. Hector was lost without his wife. So Brad was determined to make his father happy again, like he used to be, even if that meant doing something he didn't want to do by telling Hector he was finally ready to play football.

That year was spent going back and forth between all the activities he and his sisters were into, which seem to consume their lives. So much so, that Brad could recall every football play, every ballet step, and every note he learned that year, but if you asked him to name one of his classmates from that time, all you would receive would be a blank stare.

The third time Brad entered the third grade, his family had their schedules down to a science. That was the year he met the girl who was currently sitting in his bed and her two best friends. Brad had never seen a group of people, who were so different, so close. Brad didn't have that type of relationship with anyone, and found himself instantly jealous of the three. He had tried to be part of them, but was quickly denied. It had hurt his feelings and so did the only other choice that was available to him, he teased and ridiculed them. He knew he was being sort of a bully with his behavior, but he really didn't care. He would be part of that group, even if it was only by a force from the outside looking in.

Before Brad began his seventh grade year, his father had received a promotion, he made detective, which meant more money, but also more hours at work. He told his children that they would have to cut some of their activities, due to the limit of time. Brad knew it was a choice between football and ballet when it came to him giving up something. He surprised his father with his choice.

Brad would be lying if he told you he didn't miss the stage, in fact he still dreamt about it. Sometimes, he wondered if he had made the right choice. His father had always dug a question deep into the psyche of each of his children's mind, that each always seemed to ask themselves when it came to important choices.

If you know you can't wake up the next morning, without regretting what you did the day before, ask yourself, is it really worth it?

And as Brad watched his father and sisters cheer for him after every touchdown, he realized his choice was worth it, no matter the void he felt in his heart. But that wasn't the issue at hand now. What was, was his classmate who had just asked a question he wasn't all too prepared for. “Where's my underwear?” she asked softly.

Brad cleared his throat as he rose to a sitting position. “How much do you remember?” he asked her in reply.

He watched as her brow slightly scrunched up. “Um, I was at a party last night with Jake and Spud and lost track of them,” she began. “I went outside to wait for them and met a guy named Mike.”

“Okay,” he urged her to go on.

“We talked for a good hour, then I wasn't feeling too well and he offered to help me find Jake and Spud, then uh,” she closed her eyes as she concentrated. “I don't know,” she confessed. “And now I'm here.” She looked around again, her eyes pausing on a shelf with a few trophies that had ballet figurines on them. “Where exactly are we?” she looked at him again.

“This is my home,” he informed her. “I brought you here.”

Trixie's nodded as flashes of Brad appeared in her head from the night before. “Okay,” she stated calmly. “But why am I here?”

“Because I don't know where you live?” he said simply.

“Okay,” she accepted his answer knowing it was true. “But you still haven't answered my question. Where are my underwear?” she repeated.

Brad eyes shifted away from her. “I don't know,” he told her. “I couldn't find them.”

“What do you mean?” He didn't answer her. “Brad!” She had to know what he knew. “Tell me what's going on? Why can't I remember anything?”

Brad looked at her guiltily, she looked on the verge of becoming truly upset. “All I can think is-" he paused. "Did this Mike guy, give you anything?”

Trixie thought a moment, the night was almost a blur. “Yeah, he got me soda,” and as she said the words, things started clicking in place within her mind. “Oh, my God,” she whispered to herself as her hand came up to her forehead. She could feel the headache approaching. “Oh, my God,” she said again as her hand came down and covered her mouth in disbelief as she realized she had been drugged. She then gasped as she realized what that may have meant. She then looked to Brad, tears forming in her eyes, but refusing to shed. “I was raped,” she choked out her conclusion.

“What?” Brad's whole body tensed with the word. “No!” he aggressively shook his head, trying to assure her.

“But you said you couldn't-” was about as far as she got before she lowered her head and tears fell from her eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Brad shook his head. Although he had grown up with three sisters, he still couldn't deal with the sight of a female's tears. “Don't cry. No crying,” he practically ordered looking like he was going to freak out if she didn't stop that very instant. “No one hurt you!” he yelled.

“You don't know that?” she yelled back looking at him angrily.

A small moment passed before Brad said softly, “Yeah, I do, because I stopped him before he could really do anything.”

Trixie looked at him suspiciously. “I don't understand,” she told him.

Brad than slowly sat down on the bed, keeping a comfortable distance between them. He then explained to her how he had been talking with a pretty blonde when he had seen her and some guy come back into the house. At first he thought, that maybe she had been drinking because of the way she was walking, but something seemed off.

He had then turned his head, looking for any sign of Jake and Spud, knowing that if he saw one that the other two weren't too far behind, but strangely they weren't anywhere to be seen. He had shrugged it off as he glimpsed back at Trixie and the guy she had came in with, thinking that maybe he was helping her to the bathroom, as she did look a sick to him.

So he had turned back to the girl he had met, named Maria, surprised when she actually gave him her number to call her. She had then excused herself to head to the bathroom, which was when Brad noticed there was one on the floor they were on. He then looked back over at the stairs, not realizing he had been walking towards them until he was halfway up.

There were only two closed doors when he looked down the hall and so he had approached one. He knocked gently and was told by a female voice, that wasn't Trixie, that there was someone inside. He then went towards the only other closed door in the hall and once again knocked, but this time not so gently.

He received no reply, but could definitely hear someone on the other side of the door. “Trixie?” he had called out his hand finding the door handle. He slightly tried to turn it, discovering that it was locked. Brad then heard a muffled female voice from the other side, but couldn't tell if it was the person he was looking for, but as soon as he heard her say the word 'stop', it didn't matter.

It took no effort at all, for someone with Brad's large build, to push open the hollow wooden door. His brow furrowed in anger as his eyes took in Trixie, sprawled out on a full size bed with crumbled sheets and the guy he had seen walk her upstairs. He was practically on top of her, his hand blocked from Brad's view as it had gone between her legs and underneath her skirt.

Trixie's attacker, Mike, than had the audacity to smile at Brad as he said, “Hey man, if you want a go at her, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait your turn.” At that point, Brad had marched over to him and yanked him off her with one hand and tossed him to the floor.

Brad then told him to pull up his pants and get out before he ripped his dick off. Mike went to protest, but for the first time really took in Brad's size and decided to back down. He muttered something as he picked up his pants off the floor and left. Brad's eyes didn't leave him until he had walked out the bedroom door and turned the corner.

He then turned back to Trixie, his harden expression, turning into one of concern as he looked at her. He approached her slowly as he softly spoke her name. “I'm just going to. . .” he began as he reached out and gingerly took a hold of her skirt and pulled it down as she had been exposed. He then looked around, wondering were that sick bastard had tossed her panties, but the room was kind of messy and there were clothes everywhere. He then decided not to worry about it as his attention went back to her.

As he went to carefully scoop her up, she began to panic. She pushed at him, but she was so drugged, that there was no way she could have fought him off. “Whoa, Trixie. It's okay. It's me,” he spoke.

Trixie visibly calmed at the familiar voice. “Spud?” she asked, her eyes closed. When she heard Brad's answer she took another guess, “Jakey?”

“No, not Jake,” he told her once again, he then watched as her forehead creased as she tried to figure out who was carrying her.

Her eyes slightly opened as she saw a blurry image of a blonde. “Brad. . .” she whispered before her world went black again.

Brad, not knowing where Trixie lived and having no way of contacting anyone she knew, did the only other choice that was available to him, he took her home with him. There was no one there when he arrived, but that didn't surprise him much. His dad was away working almost 24/7 on a case for work. His eldest sister, Zahara, had moved out years ago. His other sisters, Kasey and Karen, who were twins, and two years older than him, were in college and so stayed in their dorm.

Brad yawned after securely tucking Trixie into his bed. He was about to walk out his bedroom door and sleep on the couch, but then realized, that she may began to freak out if she woke up in a strange place. So he went and grabbed a sheet from the linen closet before going and grabbing a pillow from the other side of his bed and tossing it on the floor where he settled for the night.

To Be Continued. . .

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