A woman in the shop saw the boy looking at his reflection. She screamed, pointing at Garrison. "Oh my Lord," a sales clerk whispered, running outside. A crowd grew, inside and outside the store. "Are you alright?" the clerk asked. She held the boy's shoulders, he looked as though he was about to faint. "Could you take me to a hospital?" he whispered, a hollow echo in his voice. "Yes, yes of course," she stammered, "Come here." The sales clerk led him to her car, and into the passenger's seat.

Garrison's mind slowly, and foggily, returned to reality. He found himself in a tangle of long, brown hair emerging from the scalp of a sales clerk, whom was leading him to her car. Her emerald green eyes were wide with what could only be described as fear. Her rust-red painted lips were into a thin line. When she realized Garrison was staring at her, she forced a very fake smile.

Garrison sat in the passenger's seat, and clipped on his safety belt. Memories of his father came rushing back to him. Every part of his body that had ever been beaten was suddenly sore. The image of his father's gun flashed before his eyes, and even after shutting them tightly, the image of his father's corpse was burned into his mind.

The sales clerk didn't know what to do or say to the boy to make him more comfortable. She'd noticed him twitching and shaking, and staring at his hands in his lap. What has this boy seen, done, to make him so nervous? she thought, How did he get all those injuries? The sales clerk finally got the nerve to talk to the shuddering boy. "I'm Eleanor, Eleanor Bradley," she said. Garrison jumped at the sound of her voice. Crap! she thought, and he settled back down. "Um, I'm Garrison," he replied.

"What were you doing in the shop window?" Eleanor asked. Garrison squirmed uncomfortably at her question. Hewasn't sure how to answer. "Looking at my reflection," he admitted. "I hadn't seen what I looked like… the cuts I mean." he waved his hand absent mindedly around the injuries on his face. Eleanor reached over to the passenger's seat, and carefullyplaced her hand on his shoulder. Her hand felt warm on Garrison's shoulder, and comforted him. Garrison stopped shaking,and managed to lean back slightly into the seat."It's going to be okay," Eleanorsaid. Garrison felt strangely comforted by her words, Garrison felt something he'd never felt before, trust.

They reached the hospital, and Eleanor walked Garrison inside. Their time in the waiting room was incredibly long, and Garrison was surprised that Eleanor had stayed. "You don't have to stay here, you know," he told her. "I understand if you want to go..." Eleanor looked over at him, "I want to make sure you get a room," she said. She smiled at him, a real smile. So true, honest. All the smiles directed at Garrison in the past were fake, out of pity or spite. He stared at her smile, and felt warm all over. He smiled back; the first, real smile since he'd run away.

One of the nurses came into the waiting room, and gasped when she saw Garrison. She led him into a room so quickly he didn't know which way was up. "In all my years-" he heard her say "-but never anything quite like-" Garrison felt her push him faster "-The Doctor will be here momentarily." They suddenly stopped moving, and Garrison almost fell over. The nurse quickly rushed off, and Eleanor strode into the room. "If she went any faster, I would've lost you!" Eleanor laughed. The joy of humor fluttered inside Garrison, though his face didn't show it.