Rain was beating down on him, thick and fast, and he was soaked through.
Andrew collapsed onto a bench by the side of the road. He had nothing now. His phone, wallet, everything in his bag... even his keys were gone. If he had even been able to make it home, he would have no way to let himself in.
He was utterly exhausted, in every possible way. Physically, he was at his limit. Mentally, emotionally too. Never before had he felt quite simply so tired. Tired of everything.
Wincing his eyes, he tried to shut out the world.
There, across the street, was a coffee shop.
For a moment, he wasn't sure why he was so fixated on it. It took his worn mind a few moments to recall the reason he had come to Marington at all. The coffee shop. The woman in the gas station had said... someone would help him.
While his muscles cried in protest, he pushed himself back to his feet, and trudged to the store across the road, leaning into the rain to shield his eyes.
The sign read 'Gateway Coffee', not that Andrew paid it much mind, as he hardly had the strength to lift his eyes off the floor.
Inside the smell of roasted beans did little to revive his body, but at least was a small boost to his spirits. The barista had her back turned, but merrily sang “Come on in!” as a bell behind the door chimed at his entry.
Now, however, he was at a loss. He couldn't remember who he was supposed to talk to, but supposed he could take a seat and wait. Uncertainly, raking in his soaking pocket, he pulled out the last change he had, and laid it delicately on the counter.
“One coffee, please,” he said, softly, not meeting the gaze of the barista, “black”.
He heard, rather than saw, the coins being dragged away by a fingertip one by one.
“That's not enough,” she said, simply.
For the first time since entering the cafe, Andrew looked up. The barista was staring down at him, waiting. She was, like Officer Janine and that woman at the gas station, huge. What was it with the women in this town?
“Oh...” Andrew muttered, and looked from the coins to the sign. He didn't doubt their math, it was easy to see, but he was by now just so numb to the world that it almost didn't register.
He couldn't expect her to let him sit there without buying anything so, sullenly, he turned to leave.
“You can't go back out there, it's pouring down. You don't have to leave.” She sounded concerned. “Are you Andrew?”
He blinked, looking back over his shoulder.
“Are you Andrew?” She repeated. “Josie is my friend at the gas station west of town. She told me to expect someone called Andrew.”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Her smile broadened, and she gestured to the name sewn onto her black sweater, stretched across the swell of her considerable bosom. 'Megan'.
Andrew paused for a moment. He had had more than his fill of giant women after his arrest, and something somewhere in the back of his mind was beginning to rouse. Her body type alone was bringing back memories of his all-too-recent ordeal.
“I'm Megan.”
He looked back to the door, and let his gaze linger on the raindrops which – if anything – seemed only to hammer harder now, although whether that was a trick of his mind due to the relative comfort of being indoors he couldn't say.
Some part of him wanted to run. Run, as he had been doing for months, just get away from here, do whatever it took. Just get away from this town.
Her smile, however, put paid to his paranoia. What else was he going to do? At the very least he couldn't go back out into that rain, he'd freeze.
“Take a seat sweetie, I'll get you something. You can tell me all about it, you look quite tired.”
That was quite an understatement, but he was sure she was just trying to be polite. She fetched a towel and helped him dry off, sitting by his side on a cushioned bench.
“Now you just sit there and warm up, I'll get you something.”
After a few minutes she came back with a cup of coffee, as well as some milk and sugar.
“I know you said black, but you sure look like you could use the energy.”
Andrew was in no position to complain. The barista Megan sat by his side, and waited calmly as he took his first sip.
It tasted odd, but then he hadn't taken milk or sugar in his tea in years. The coffee was more than enough to make up for it.
“Now, you just tell me all about it. Take as long as you like.”
He let his eyes follow the crescent swirls of white in the milky coffee, like a hypnotist's spiral.
“Hey,” she said softer, and put a hand on his thigh, and he jumped back, spilling some coffee on his lap. “Sorry.” Megan added, and handed him a napkin.
Thoroughly embarrassed at his reaction, he tried to keep his eyes fixed on the rain. She was patient, but he remained evasive.
“How long were you out there in the rain?” She persisted.
“... A while.” It wasn't a lie. He genuinely had no idea how long he'd been walking for. He didn't have a watch any more.
Megan moved a hand closer to his arm, and he pulled it back slightly. She moved it closer still... and he let the contact happen. Her fingers were so warm against his gelid skin, and seemed to warm him more than the coffee did.
“I...” he started, but choked, as he felt a rush of emotion bubbling up in him that he had fought to keep down. He had felt just the same when he'd been pinned against Officer Janine's slick body...
“Honey,” she soothed, and ran her fingers gently up and down his forearm, “trust me. I've listened to a lot of boys tell their stories before. Nothing you could say would shock me.”
“I was... running.” In a way, he almost felt like he was repeating himself, except now instead of having the information milked out of him he rather felt he was volunteering it.
“Mhmm.” Her hand never wavered, comforting him all the while.
“There was so much pressure, and I- I didn't- I couldn't-” that did it, he thought, as he felt his eyes itch and wet.
He went to put down his coffee but found her napkin was already dabbing his tears.
“Keep drinking, honey. You need it. Tell me all about it.”
She was so... soft. So kind. Her thick bodied form was there, and when it got too close he felt a slight pang of panic, but slowly he felt himself leaning into it for warmth. In turn she was more than happy to hold him against her.
“I left there, I didn't have much money left,” he admitted, and recounted how the woman at the gas station – Josie, Megan had named her – had kindly pointed him to Marington...
Then he felt his throat swell up again, as he remembered Officer Janine. How she had so easily lured him into her car... how she had so nearly had him in her clutches forever...
He fell into Megan's body, and was wracked with silent shaking, shamelessly hiding his face in her breast.
“Awww, you poor dear...” she softly whispered, “did something happen? Something embarrassing?”
That barely scratched the surface, and his shoulders tensed a little at the understatement. Not that she could have known, he reasoned. She was just trying to help him... she was just being nice...
Lazily, he pulled back, feeling slightly light headed. No doubt from the exertion of his tears.
“I... got picked up. The... there was a police car. An officer, Janine.”
Megan nodded, sagely, as if she had heard this kind of thing before.
“Mmmm, yeah. I've heard Janine had a way of escorting people into town... so she took you to the station?”
Groggily, he nodded.
“What happened, dear? You can tell me, come on...”
He did. It wasn't easy, and his shoulders tightened as she coaxed the finer details he tried to leave unsaid out of him, but in the end he told her everything. His tears flowed, and he mumbled an apology for soaking her sweater.
“Not to worry, dear. Everything's going to be alright.” She reassured him, and pulled him into another chesty hug, and he felt his cheeks prickle a little, growing hot. It was hard not to remember how Janine had done the same thing to silence his whimpers... and he hated how he wasn't sure to what extent it was his face being in Megan's chest rather than the memory of being in Officer Janine's that was causing a slight tent in his sodden shorts.
“Mmmm...” he moaned softly, as if trying to exorcise the thought.
“So, how do you feel now? Better?”
He found it hard to disagree, nodding slightly into her soft sweater.
“It does feel nice to get things off your chest, doesn't it... it's no good to keep things bottled up.”
Her hand was rubbing his back now, as the other gently traced the hair on the back of his neck.
“It's good for boys to be honest. They shouldn't have anything to hide.”
A little woozy, exhaustion catching up with him, he nodded more.
“So tell me sweetie, what were you running from? Tell Megan all about it.”
He felt her hands roaming, softly, reassuringly, even as she asked him for more. Hadn't he told her enough? Did he have to do all this now?
Intending to politely ask to take a break, he tried to lift himself free, but found her gentle grip was more than enough to render his movements mute. He must have been so much more tired than he realised...
“Tell me, sweetie. What were you really running from? You told Janine, you can tell me...”
How did she know what Janine had asked? It must have been obvious. She must have known a bit more about Janine than she had let on.
“Tell me Andrew.”
He paused, suddenly still. Her hands slowed in response, feeling his tension.
“How...” he mumbled, finding it hard to put his thoughts to words for some reason. “How do... you know my name?”
Andrew tilted his head up, only to see Megan's face smiling... in a way that seemed sympathetic. Not just kindly, her eyes seemed full of... pity.
“You're going to be so much happier, Andrew."
He suddenly felt a chill, much colder than that of the rain outside, trickle down his spine.
"Boys like you were never meant to face the big, scary world out there.”
Officer Janine's voice rang in his head, even through the thick fog that had begun to come over his sluggish thoughts. She had used those exact same words.
Again, Andrew tried to push away, but if anything felt even weaker now. Megan simply resumed her gentle petting of his head, and slowly ran a hand in circles on his back, soothingly... near hypnotically. It was lulling him like a baby, and her body was softly rocking.
A wave of fatigue washed over him, even as adrenaline began to rush. As his head rolled to the side, he stared at the coffee up, which he had so dutifully drank without question.
“Mmmnngh...” he moaned, dizzily.
“That's it... just relax sweetie. You've had such a hard time until now...”
He felt his lips growing numb, and wet as he felt saliva begin to slip between them. Panic fought for room as it was smothered from all sides by a blanket of exhaustion. What had... she done? Drugged him...
“What the fuck did you do to me?” he tried to say, but barely managed to blow a bubble from his drooling lips.
“That's it, thaaaat's it... just you go to sleep, little one. When you wake up, I promise, all your worries will be over. Your life before will be a thing of the past.”
Andrew fought mightily to keep his eyes open, but each time he only managed to force them open a little less. His breathing was slowing as the adrenaline and panic were replaced by the cottony thick warmth of her bosomy embrace, and he was struggling to resist the siren song of sleep.
“You'll never have those worries from your old life again...” she continued, cooing her poisoned words at him through the succour of her entrapping embrace, “in fact, pretty soon, I promise you won't be having any worries at all in that cute little head of yours...”
Darkness rose up to swallow him at last, and he was plucked from the real world altogether.