“Don’t…no…just stay there!” Justin exclaimed, trying to fill the horse’s trough before it got close enough to touch him. He poured the food too quickly though, and instead of it landing in the tray, it wound up in his lap instead. “Jesus!” he whined.

The horse neighed loudly, as if it were mocking him.

Justin glared at the animal. “What’re you laughing at?” he pouted, trying to wipe the mess onto the ground. “You ain’t so hot.”

The horse bowed its head down and stuck its snout between the fence. It’s large tongue shot out, and began to lick the mess off of Justin’s pants.

“Aah! Get away!” he yelled, jerking his wheelchair back roughly. He jerked it too roughly though, and instead of rolling backward, the chair tilted and then fell over. At first, he lay there motionless, replaying how he had gotten this way in the first place. Then the realization that he was stuck this way took over him. He was stuck. There was no way for him to maneuver himself upright again. He was stuck…and he was alone.

“Ha…remember that commercial J? The one where the lady says “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up“!” Trace was sitting on the fence, chewing on a piece of grass, not really seeming to care that Justin had fallen over.

“Fucker,” Justin muttered. “It’s so like you to be a prick at a time like this.”

“I’m not a prick,” Trace informed him.

The horse neighed loudly.

“See,” he continued. “The horse agrees.”

“The horse isn’t agreeing with you,” Justin said. “You’re not real.”

“Maybe not, but at least I’m not the one lying in the dirt, wondering when the hell he’s going to get the help he needs,” Trace smiled, sliding off of the fence. “Stupid ass…at least try to get somebody’s attention,” he faded away.

Justin cringed. Trace had insulted him. Trace had insulted him, and he wasn’t even real. Didn’t they put people in straitjackets for this sort of thing? He didn’t know. All he knew, was that there were dark clouds forming over him, and there was a low rumbling of thunder somewhere in the distance. It was going to pour…and he was going to be stuck out here. “Help!” he screamed. He felt ugly. The kind of ugly you felt when one of your close friends said something or did something really embarrassing. The only difference now, was that it was him.

Never had Justin imagined himself in this position…helpless. He had always been the slick one, the one who was so good on his feet. Limber and graceful, he could have beaten even the toughest of street dancers in a single dance off. Now that he was in a wheelchair though, he was as clumsy as Lance had been before he had put in all those extra hours with the choreographer.

Thunder roared, boomed, rumbled in the gray clouds above him, echoing memories into his brain. Justin squeezed his eyes shut. Clear…Boom!…Again…Clear…Boom! Beep… “Help me!” he screamed again, trying to drown out the awful memory. It did no good. With each rumble of thunder, there came the same voices…the same monotonous flat line tone. It wouldn’t stop. Then he felt it. One drop…then another. Moments later he felt like he was under a waterfall. He opened his eyes. It was a downpour. The rain hit the ground hard, causing small droplets of mud to fly onto his clothes and face. He knew there was no use in screaming for help anymore. Nobody had heard him, and nobody was going to.

The rain was cold. Justin remembered the last time he had felt rain as cold as this. He had been in New York City. It was the middle of winter and it had been raining for a few days. Justin had been happy it had been rain instead of snow or sleet. He was less likely to fall and sprain his ankle that way, which he had a notorious reputation for doing. It had been late…or early, depending on how you perceived things. Huddled on the front steps of his hotel he had sat, hunched over, feeling as if the entire world was against him. He had felt so empty, so worthless…and he hadn’t cared if sitting outside in the middle of New York was dangerous or not.

Justin had been in denial about what Trace had told him. He said he had seen it all. He said she had begged him not to tell Justin what he knew. Four years. He had put four years of his life into loving that girl…cherishing her. And what had he gotten in return? A slap in the face, and a heart wrenching “It’s over Justin.” It’s over Justin…they had all said that to him. Every one of them. He had stayed outside like that for a good three hours before Trace had finally found him. They had talked. They had talked for what seemed like years. And in the end he had realized it was going to be okay, because he had Trace…and Trace would never toss him to the side like she had.

But now Trace was gone too. And everything felt smashed…broken…and out of control. There was no one at his side anymore. Nobody was constantly unwrapping his CD’s for him, or telling people how great of a guy he was…even when he was being a complete jerk. Nobody was there to tell him to suck it up and be a man now that all of this had happened, like he knew Trace would have. Nobody was there for him to crack jokes with, or to talk about simple things…or difficult things. It was just him now.

He knew he couldn’t make it alone.

****************

Riding in the rain was one of Sheridan’s favorite pastimes. There was just something about it that made the experience so much better than any other time she was riding. It was pure nature. Unlike the city where if it rained, you would rather be inside away from all the horns beeping and cars splashing through the puddles. Even when she was a young girl, she had loved to ride in the rain. She remembered, she had forced her father to take her out in the pouring rain numerous times. He hadn’t protested of course. Daddy had loved riding horses as much as she did. They would spend hours out there, donned in ponchos, racing each other around the grounds. Sheridan knew that it was one of the main reasons she was so good at handling sharp turns and jumps in the rain. She had won numerous competitions in the rain, while some of the best riders she knew failed miserably at it.

Her father had been a doctor specializing in physical therapy, like her mother. Together her parents had built this ranch, so they could raise their prize stallions, and rehabilitate people at the same time. As the years past they had established quite a name for themselves. There had been a time, when she was about ten or eleven, that her parents had to hire a small staff of nurses because there were so many patients inhabiting the ranch. Sheridan had liked it though. It had given her the chance to get to know all different kinds of people, as well as make them feel better about their condition. It had been fun growing up that way- always having lots of people in the house, always having her parents at an arms reach. Most of her friends weren’t so lucky. Most of their parents worked, and they hardly ever saw them. Sheridan had often felt blessed, and for a long time, she felt that her life had no flaws.

When she was fifteen however, her perfect life came crashing to the ground. It was a day like today. Rainy…gloomy. She and her father had been up to their usual antics, racing around the corral. In one swift movement, she had cut in front of him. At first, she had been excited over her triumph, but when she heard him scream, the feeling quickly vanished. By the time she had slowed her horse to a stop, it was too late. Her father was already on the ground, and his horse had run off somewhere. She had tried to wake him, tried to get a reaction out of him…but he hadn’t responded. Later she learned his neck had snapped in half and he died instantly. He never had a chance.

And it had been her fault.

Naturally, her mother had been devastated by this. So much that she felt she couldn’t run the practice by herself any longer. Soon after the funeral, the nurses were sent away along with most of the patients her parents had been attending to. It was a strange time for Sheridan. Her father was gone, along with the hustle and bustle of the ranch. It became like a ghost town. Sure, there were still horses, but since her father died, it became impossible for her to even look at one of them for months afterwards. Often she would find herself sitting by her father’s grave, apologizing over and over for what had happened. It took her a long time to realize that what had happened to her father wasn’t her fault at all. Her mother helped her with that. She also helped her to get back on a horse. It took a while, but in the end she did it because she knew it was what her father would have wanted.

Around the same time she had gotten back into riding, her mother started to take patients again. But it was much different than before. Her mother decided to dedicate herself to only one patient per year. She didn’t think she could handle the magnitude of patients she took on when her husband was alive. Sheridan didn’t think much of it though. By this time, she was a senior in high school, preparing for college. She was happy her mother was finally getting her life back on track.

Six years had passed since her father died. Sheridan was now a strong, free spirited young woman who wasn’t afraid to take on any sort of challenge…not even the challenge of getting Justin to stop being stubborn and follow her mother‘s treatment. Out of all the patients her mother helped over the years, Justin was probably the toughest. Still, there was something about him that she couldn’t help like. Maybe it was how sweet he seemed to be at times, when he felt nobody was paying attention. She didn’t know. But then again, barely a week had passed since he had arrived. She figured she had more than enough time to learn what it was about him that intrigued her.

“Whoa Benny,” she said, giving a light pull on the stallion’s reins. The horse slowed to a trot, then stopped. Sheridan dismounted and began to lead Benny past the corral opening and toward the stables. “Hey, Benny, whaddya think? How does a nice meal of oats sound right now. Mmm, mmm. We’ll top that off with a carrot stick and-” She stopped abruptly, sucking in a breath at what she saw. Justin’ chair had overturned. Both chair and its passenger were lying in the dirt. “Oh no,” she moaned, quickly tying the horse to the fence. She raced over to him. He was shivering, and she couldn’t blame him. It was raining rather hard, and the t-shirt he had on was soaked through. She wondered how long he had been like this. She wondered how the hell it happened in the first place. She glanced over her shoulder. There was horse food everywhere. “Justin,” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

“I told you,” he moaned. “I told you to get out of my head.”

Sheridan frowned. “Justin, come on, wake up. It’s me. It’s Sheridan,” she tapped his face lightly. “Justin.”

After several more moments, his eyes opened.. “What happened?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Sheridan sighed. “Do you feel alright?”

“I never feel alright,” he informed her.

She rolled her eyes. “Aside from the rest…is everything else okay? Do you feel any pain?”

He shook his head.

“So I can get you back up again?”

“I guess so,” he muttered.

She grunted and tensed her muscles, pulling the chair to an upright position. “There.”

“What the hell took you so long?” he snapped.

She began to push him forward. “I didn’t know you needed help.”

“No, you knew. You just wanted to see me suffer. You and your fucking mother. You were probably standing around laughing at me. Weren’t you, Sheridan?”

“Oh come on Justin. You know that’s not true,” she protested. “We’re here to help you, not to bring you down.”

“Bullshit!”

Sheridan knew it would only make him more difficult to deal with if she continued to argue with him, so she bit her lip and quickened her step. She hated when he was like this. When he was being impossible. But he was impossible everyday. It was going to take a lot more than a positive attitude and a loving embrace to get him back on track.

She rolled the chair up the ramp to the porch of the house. Her mother was seated in her rocker, talking softly on the phone. She wasn’t smiling. It could only mean that she was talking business. Not wanting to interfere, she began to push the chair forward toward the door.

“Sheridan.”

Sheridan glanced over her shoulder. Her mother had her hand over the mouthpiece and was staring at her intently. “Hi ma.”

“Did he finish?”

She glanced down at Justin. “No.”

“And why didn’t he finish?”

“He…had a little mishap. I just brought him back to get a dry shirt,” Sheridan informed her.

Karen held one finger up and brought the phone to her ear again. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Yes Lynn, I’ll make sure. Okay, you have a good day. I‘ll be in touch.” She hung up, and fixed her attention on her daughter. “Mishap?”

“That was my mother wasn’t it?” Justin spoke up.

“Mishap?” Karen repeated, her eyes still focused on Sheridan.

“I found him overturned in his chair,” Sheridan nodded.

“Why didn’t you let me talk to her?” Justin growled.

“The horses haven’t been fed, Justin?” Karen said.

Sheridan held her breath.

“What do you think smart ass?” Justin snapped. “I just laid in the mud for twenty minutes!”

Karen flashed him an amused smile. “Well, I guess you should get some dry clothes on then. Sheridan, why don’t you help him?”

Sheridan snorted out a laugh. “Sure.”

Justin gasped. “What?”

“The horses aren’t going to feed themselves,” Karen pointed out. “Go change and get back to work.”

“Maybe you don’t understand,” Justin said. “I just laid…”

“I know what you just,” Karen interrupted him. “And those horses are your responsibility.”

“Like hell they are! You can kiss my ass if you think I‘m gonna go back out there and wind up in the same position I was just in!”

Sheridan wasn’t about to let Justin get into a heated argument with her mother. She gripped the handle bars on his chair tightly and wheeled him into the house, kicking the door closed behind her.

“Stop!” he yelled.

She stopped pushing the chair, and let out a long sigh. “Now what?”

Justin spun the chair around to face her, almost running over her toes in the process. “Now what?” he scoffed. “Now what! Am I bothering you? Am I burden to you, just like I am to everyone else? Come on Sheridan, you can tell me. You can‘t hurt me anymore than I already am.”

Sheridan rolled her eyes and plopped herself on the floor in front of him. “What do you want me to say Justin? Huh? Yes, you fell all right…everybody falls. It’s no reason to go off on my mother like she’s the bad person. She’s trying to help you. She’s trying to give you a sense of independence. Why can’t you just stop trying to push her away and let her help?”

He looked away from her. “Nobody can help me.”

“How do you know?” Sheridan asked him. “You won’t let anybody get close enough to try.”

“I hate this place,” he whispered. “I hate Karen…I hate you…I hate horses. I want to go home. That’s where everything makes sense.”

“That’s where you can sulk,” Sheridan shot at him. She knew it was the truth.

He glared at her. “Yeah…it is. And I’d rather be there sulking to tell you the truth. It would be better than being stuck in this hell, being made to do things I can’t and don’t want to do.”

Sheridan couldn’t believe he was acting this way. This man, who had the world in the palm of his hand. This man who had everything he could ever want. This man that possessed so much talent. He wanted to stay this way. He wanted to remain in a wheelchair forever. It didn’t make sense. “Why?” she blurted out.

His eyes widened. “What?”

Sheridan swallowed hard. She knew she shouldn’t have been getting into this with him. But she figured if she had already let the question slip out of her mouth, she might as well pursue the subject further. “Why would you, somebody with so much wealth and talent, want to throw the rest of his life away?”

Justin was silent.

“There has to be a reason,” she said.

“I just do,” he whispered. “I don’t need a reason.”

“That’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve heard in awhile,” she chuckled.

“I deserve this,” he muttered, beginning to wheel himself away from her. “That’s all you need to know.”

Sheridan cocked her head to the side. She didn’t understand. “You don’t deserve…”

“Yes I do,” Justin growled, cutting her speech short. “Just leave it at that, okay Sheridan? Come on, I need you to…help me out,” he admitted.

Sheridan got up off the floor. “Sure.”

Their conversation ceased. Sheridan knew it was better that way. She knew the violent temper Justin had, and she didn’t feel like getting screamed at by him again. But she had found out something else about him today. Justin was blaming himself for something, as she had with her fathers death. She wondered if someone had died in that car accident he had gotten into. She knew she couldn’t ask him. It wasn’t her place to. But she also knew, that if her assumptions were correct, Justin was going through a hellish time. He needed to talk about it. But she knew he wouldn‘t right now. This would take time. Eventually, he would learn, just as she had, you had to expose your demons before you could kill them.