Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Poor Tom	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1469 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A loud banging woke Doug Penhall from a deep sleep. Glancing at the red luminous numbers on his digital clock, he groaned loudly. Throwing back the covers, he stomped down the stairs of his mezzanine floor bedroom to the level below. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he growled crossly. Yanking open the door, he stared in surprise at Dennis Booker. “Jesus Christ Booker, it’s three o’clock in the fucking morning! This had better be an emergency.” When Dennis lifted his head, Doug was shocked to see tears in the tough cop’s eyes. “What is it?” he asked, fear gripping at his heart when he noticed blood on Booker’s clothing. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Dennis sobbed as he covered his face with his hand.
Penhall quickly ushered the distressed officer into his untidy home. Throwing clothing from the couch, he offered Booker a seat. “You’re starting to scare me Booker. What the hell is going on?”
Meeting Penhall’s gaze, Dennis’ distress was evident. “It’s all my fault, I should have known not to leave him alone. Oh my God Doug, there was so much blood and now he’s in hospital and—”
“Who’s in hospital?” Penhall asked, his voice rising in concern. “You’re not making any sense Booker. For fuck’s sake, tell me what’s going on!”
“HANSON!” Dennis yelled as he jumped to his feet and started pacing the floor. “I came home and Tommy’s lying on the floor with his wrists slashed open! There was so much blood and I—”
But before Booker could finish, Penhall grabbed him by both arms and slammed him up against the wall. “You had better tell me what the HELL is going on,” Doug snarled through clenched teeth. “And if this is some kind of sick joke, you are going to find yourself in a world of—”
“IT’S NOT!” Booker yelled, pushing Penhall away. “Tom took a razor blade to his wrists because he was raped! He was fucking raped in Riverbend and we left him in there! This is our fault. We should have done something!”
Doug stared back at Booker in confusion. “How do you know all this?”
Sitting back down, Dennis ran his fingers through his hair. “I went to his apartment, the night after he was released. I knew something was wrong by the way he was acting and I wanted to make sure he was okay. He broke down and told me what happened. He’s been living with me ever since.”
“Does Fuller know?” Penhall asked quietly. When Booker shook his head, Doug turned and slammed his fist violently into the wall. “YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING TOLD SOMEONE!” he yelled angrily. “Who the FUCK do you think you are? This is not our fault, it’s your fucking fault!”
“I know,” Dennis whispered sadly, as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. “But Hanson didn’t want anyone to know and I thought I was doing what was best for him.”
“Or maybe you thought you could keep Hanson all to yourself,” Doug spat back. Seeing Booker’s surprised look, Penhall smiled back bitterly. “Yeah I know about your little crush. You may think you keep your feelings hidden but I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
“Oh Jesus,” Booker muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor. “You’re right Penhall, I do have feelings for Tommy but you’ve got to believe that I would never do anything to harm him.”
“Too late,” Doug shot back hurtfully. “Now get out.”
Dennis stood up and made his way to the door. As he turned the knob, he looked back over his shoulder. “The hospital needs Tom’s mom’s phone number, she hasn’t been told about—”
“I’ll sort it,” Penhall retorted. “Now get the hell out of my sight.”
**
Driving back to his apartment, Booker felt a wave of depression wash over him. If he had handled things differently, Tom would not be lying unconscious in a hospital bed with his arms slashed to ribbons. Arriving home, he slowly walked up the four flights of stairs to his apartment. Pushing open the unlocked door, he could see his bloody footprints on the floor where he had run for the phone. His stomach lurched and clamping a hand over his mouth, he ran into the kitchen and vomited into the sink. A prickly heat warmed his skin and turning on the cold faucet, he gulped handfuls of cooling water before splashing his hot face. Picking up a dishtowel, he patted his face dry and threw it onto the counter. Even though he was not sure he could stomach it, he knew he needed to clean the bathroom because the longer he left it, the harder it would. Taking a bucket from under the sink, he filled it with scalding water and disinfectant and putting on rubber gloves, he grabbed the discarded dishtowel and walked into the bathroom. Dropping to his knees, he methodically scrubbed at the large red stain covering the floor. He had to keep emptying and refilling the bucket before the floor was finally spotless. When he stood up, he noticed blood splatter covering the walls, toilet and hand basin. Sinking to the floor, he covered his face in his hands and wept. After several minutes, he pulled himself together and refilling the bucket, he continued to scrub until all traces of Tom’s blood was gone. He then repeated the process in the living area, wiping clean the bloody trail of footsteps that traversed the linoleum floor.
Stripping down to his boxers, he tossed his t-shirt, jeans and the dishtowel into the trash. Wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, he forced himself to take a hot shower. When he was clean, he crawled naked under the covers and clutching Tom’s pillow to his chest, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
**
When news of Tom’s attempted suicide became public knowledge around The Chapel, Booker’s fellow officers immediately excluded him. On receiving the information from Penhall, Fuller had called Dennis into his office and spent half an hour screaming at him about how irresponsible, pigheaded and arrogant he was. Although threatened with suspension, Adam eventually agreed to allow Booker to remain at Jump Street, but only on desk duty until further notice. Isolated from his work colleagues, Dennis had no one to talk to about the horror he had witnessed in his own home and he felt himself slowly withdrawing from human contact. Work became just a place to go and earn money; no longer did he enjoy being a cop. Now that he was not out in the field, his job became meaningless.
After his surgery, Hanson’s doctor had released him to the Brentwood Psychiatric Facility. In the month that he had been there, only Margaret Hanson had access to her son under supervised visitations. Booker heard through The Chapel grape vine that Margaret was having trouble coping with Tom’s attempted suicide because of her strict religious beliefs. According to Penhall, when she spoke about Tom she appeared detached from her son, as though she was discussing someone else’s child.
Every night when he came home, Booker rang Brentwood even though he was told the same thing; no visitors except for immediate family. He wanted desperately to visit Tom so he could gauge for himself his friend’s mental state. Time dragged on and the only information he received about Hanson was from listening to gossip at work. He tried to discount most of what he heard, not wanting to believe that Tom had tried a second time to end his life. But he knew the only way he would feel at peace would be to see Hanson with his own eyes.
Several more weeks dragged by in mind-numbing monotony for Booker. Entering his apartment after another tedious day typing up reports, he kicked off his boots and walked over to the small table on which his telephone and answering machine were situated. He was surprised to see a red blinking light signaling that he had a message. Touching the play button, he started to walk into his bedroom but he stopped motionless when he heard a female voice speaking. “This is Nurse Amy Gray at the Brentwood facility. I would like to speak to you about scheduling a visit to see Mr. Thomas Hanson. Please call me back on 555-8282.”
Dennis’ legs started to shake as he replayed the message. It had been six long weeks but he was finally going to see his Tommy.
- 10
- 11
- 12
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Poor Tom