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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.

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After returning to his cell, Tom waited to hear the soft click as Morty turned the key and locked him in. He knew it meant nothing, someone had unlocked his door so Matty and his flunkies could attack him. He wondered if Matty had a key. The teen seemed to wield a lot of power in The Zone, which was probably why he had been able to get away with murder. Tom now knew that Richardson had murdered Ricky Green, the youth had pretty much admitted to it. Not that it meant much, Hanson had no hard evidence and he still did not know how the drugs entered the secure facility.
Dragging his mattress off the bed, Tom pushed it against the door and lay down, curling into the fetal position. Tears once again spilled from his eyes as the memories of his rape played over in his mind. He was a police officer and he had been sexual assaulted by a seventeen year old. But Hanson knew he could not have revealed his identity, not even to try and save himself from the violation. If anyone in Riverbend found out his profession, his life would immediately be in danger.
Unable to sleep, Tom instead tried to devise a plan. He needed to call Adam Fuller but as Matty controlled the phone privileges, he could not think how he could manage it. He knew his Captain would know something was wrong the minute he spoke to him and hopefully, that would be enough for Fuller to act. But try as he might, Tom could not come up with any ideas on how to gain access to the phone. Morty spent most of his time sitting at the desk where the only phone on The Zone was located. Unless he could get rid of Morty, he had no chance of making a call.
Once again, his mind returned to the rape. He tried to push the memory away but it kept re-emerging. His anus still throbbed and he knew he had suffered some tearing. The rest of his body felt numb, his brain only concentrating on the pain in his lower regions. Matty had not been gentle when tugging at his cock and Hanson’s only relief was that his body had not betrayed him. The thought of Richardson trying to stimulate him made him feel just as sick as the rape did. The teenager was obviously deranged and that made him even more dangerous. Tom had no clue how he would be able to defend himself the next time it happened. All he knew was that whatever transpired, his only goal was to survive it.
**
Having lain awake all night, Tom slowly got to his feet and walked to the washbasin. He gazed at his reflection in the dirty mirror. His face was deathly pale and the bruising around his eyes and nose was much more evident. He had swelling around his knuckles and when he lifted his t-shirt, he saw dark bruising around his ribs. But it was the pain in his backside that overrode all other feelings. He had never felt a pain like it and in a sudden panic, he wondered how much damage had been done. Once again, his eyes filled with tears and his chest heaved painfully. He had never felt so vulnerable and alone.
The sound of a key in his door quickly pulled him back to the present. He slowly backed away to the other side of the room even though he knew that it would not make a difference as there was nowhere to hide. The door opened and Morty stood outside. “Shower time McQuaid,” he instructed, seemingly oblivious to Tom’s battered appearance.
“I don’t want to shower today Morty,” Tom muttered. “I’m not feeling so good.”
Walking into the small cell, Morty gave Tom the once over. “You look okay to me, now get moving.”
Grabbing his towel and toiletries, Hanson walked with his head down not wanting to meet the amused gazes of his fellow inmates. Entering the communal bathroom, he picked a shower closest to the door. When he stripped off, he heard wolf whistles and obscene comments echoing around room. “Matty was right, that’s a fine piece of ass… Hey McQuaid, if you’re feelin’ lonely tonight I can come keep you company… Shame they messed up your pretty face… Do you suck cock as well McQuaid?”
Tom tried to block out the offensive remarks. His hands shook as he turned on the faucets and stepped under the steaming water. He jumped when someone touched his shoulder. “Want me to wash your back,” Matty murmured from behind him. Tom froze, unable to move away from Matty’s touch. The teen’s fingers traveled downwards until they rested on Hanson’s buttocks. “Sorry if I hurt you gorgeous boy,” Matty breathed against Tom’s neck. “Like I said, I never figured you for a virgin. I might have been gentler if I’d known.”
“Get your fucking hands off me,” Tom raged through clenched teeth.
Matty laughed softly. “Don’t worry gorgeous, you’re safe… for now. But I’ll be coming for you tonight, you can count on that.”
Giving Tom a gentle pat on the buttocks, Matty moved away. Hanson realized he had stopped breathing and he pulled in huge gulps of air to steady his nerves. He looked quickly around him and saw that Matty had gone to the other end of the shower block where many teenagers were clapping him on the back. Once again, it struck Tom what a sick and twisted world juvenile detention was. He remembered the conversation he had with Penhall their first night and he was certain that he now knew the answer. Detention did not scare offenders straight, it scared them so much that they became immune to all the violence around them.
**
Tom wriggled in his seat in an attempt to get comfortable. Reggie Wilkes stood at the front of the class trying his best to enthrall his pupils with a reading from Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven
"…Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend! I shrieked, upstarting

Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! Quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!

Quoth the Raven Nevermore.
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting,

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door.

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor.

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!”
Twenty-five pairs of eyes gazed back at Wilkes, their expressions revealing their boredom. With a sigh, the teacher closed his book and walking behind his desk, he sat down. Tom laid his head on his desk and closed his eyes. He did not need to participate in any class discussions, he had read Poe back in high school. Normally he would play the part of student quite happily and he especially enjoyed acting out as the disruptive Tom McQuaid. However, this case was unlike any other he could remember and he had lost all motivation to act out. Now his only focus was to get through each day without threat of attack.
A loud clanging signaled the end of the lesson. The scraping sound of chairs pushing backwards jangled Tom’s already rattled nerves and he remained seated until the last of the teenagers had left. Carefully pushing himself up off his chair, he limped slowly towards the door. Reggie’s voice cut through the emptiness of the classroom. “Do you have a minute Tom? I’d like to speak to you.”
Tom stopped and closing his eyes, he clenched his fists into tight balls. He did not want to attract any unnecessary attention from the teacher. He found Mr. Wilkes to be a kind and compassionate man who cared deeply about trying to give the teenagers confined within detention, a decent education. Hanson knew that he could not cope with any form of empathy, his emotional state was too fragile and he was afraid he would break down completely if Wilkes showed him one ounce of kindness.
Hanson knew what he had to do. Digging deep, he pulled Tom McQuaid to the forefront and pushed Tommy Hanson into the background. Turning around, he gave his teacher what he hoped was an impressive sneer. “What?” he snapped. “I’ll miss lunch if you don’t hurry up.”
Unfazed, Reggie motioned towards a chair. “Take a seat Tom, I won’t keep you long.”
Tom remained standing, his eyes narrowing slightly as he gave his teacher a hard stare. “C’mon Reggie, I haven’t got all day.”
Wilkes smiled gently. “Okay, I’ll get to the point. It looks like you’ve been getting yourself into a bit of trouble Tom. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
“Nope,” Tom replied bluntly. “Can I go now?”
“In a minute,” Reggie replied calmly. “I want to give you something first.” Reaching down, he pulled a battered book out of his briefcase and laid it on his desk. “Do you know what this is Tom?” he asked softly.
“A book?” Tom replied rudely, desperate for the meeting to be over.
Reggie laughed. “It’s not just a book Tom, it’s one of the greatest novels ever written. It’s called Moby Dick, have you read it?”
“No,” Tom lied.
“It’s a book about a man who chases a whale,” Wilkes explained.
“So?” Tom replied, his voice sounding bored. “Who cares?”
“He’s not going after a whale Tom,” Reggie replied quietly. “He’s going after God. See, Ahab, he’s the man’s man. What he’s saying is I will not let you beat me, I will not let you make my life mean nothing. The story is a tragedy, it’s telling you that you don’t have to get swallowed up by the whale, do you understand what I’m saying?”
Hanson knew exactly what Reggie Wilkes was saying. His admiration for the teacher increased tenfold. Wilkes was the one good thing in Riverbend and it was a modern day tragedy that none of his students realized it and embraced what he was trying to teach them. Tom had to use all his willpower to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. He dug his nails into his palms as he attempted to keep his façade intact. “Are you saying you want me to read it?” he asked, pretending to be appalled.
“I can’t make you read it Tom, but I think if you give it a chance, you might enjoy it,” Wilkes answered him before lowering his voice slightly. “And maybe it will help you escape from everything you’re going through.”
Tom snatched the book off the desk. “McQuaids don’t need to escape from anything Reggie. But it’s a thick book, maybe I can smack someone over the head with it.”
Wilkes did not seem overly concerned. He had been in the job long enough to be a good judge of character and even though Thomas McQuaid had a tough exterior, he did not think he would attack anyone unless provoked. Staring at Tom’s battered face, his brow creased in concern. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me Tom?” he asked quietly.
Hanson stared back impassively. “Nothing I can think of Reg,” he replied before turning on his heel and limping from the room.
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Poor Tom