Joe Hardy was 14 when he was sketching the mountain stream by himself. He loved it when he was by himself, working on his art work. He loved his family and his brother but their were times when he craved solitude. He was always happy, he had bad times in his life but he didn't know about the bad things in life, or how evil the world really was. He loved being in his own world. His fantasy's.

He smiled, looking at his drawing, loving how realistic it was becoming. He never heard the voices until he heard a loud slap and a shriek. He stopped, looking around. He wondered where it was coming from. He walked down stream a bit, seeing a group of men talking loudly, he hid. He was scared because they held guns. Then he saw the small child. She looked to be about 10 years old. He wanted to go for help but he was frozen with fear. He watched in silence as the men asked the child, "where is your dad at!?'

The girl sobbed, "I don't know," receiving another slap. Joe couldn't move, he was scared, he knew he should run for help, but he pulled out his cell phone, dialling Frank's number, hearing his voice, he whispered, "Frank, I need some help. They are hurting a little girl. I'm at the stream, my usual--" he broke off when he saw the men laugh and say, "Well I guess they won't miss you then," and lifted up the gun and shot the girl in the head. Joe froze, dropping the phone and his books. He was in shock, hearing the deafening shot, it hurt his ears. He couldn't believe it. They took the little girls life. She was only 10. He couldn't hear Frank's frantic voice in the cell phone calling for him.

He blamed himself. He could have tried to protect the girl, tried to save her, distract the men or call for help earlier, but he didn't, he was too late.

He didn't know how long it was until help arrived, till Frank found him staring at the little girls still body. He didn't talk, didn't speak. Frank was babbling, trying to get him to talk. Joe couldn't understand it, why kill her?

Joe woke up in fright, memories of what happened playing in his mind. He couldn't understand it. He started drawing more, concentrated on learning his fighting. He couldn't stay still, his mind kept replaying it all over. His family tried to help, tried to explain but they didn't understand how he was feeling. Frank didn't understand why his brother was so angry, he did nothing wrong. He told Joe it wasn't his fault, he didn't understand.

Joe started sneaking out at night, trying to keep himself busy, running helped. He ran all over the city, running till his lungs would burst.

Joe woke up screaming one night, trying to get the look of that face out of his mind. He couldn't keep it out. His doors were always locked at night since then. He jumped out of bed, and started wrecking his room. He was angry with everything. He couldn't understand it. The hatred for himself was consuming him, he needed to hurt something. He saw himself in his mirror in his room, screaming he punched it in anger, loathing the scared 14 year old in the mirror. He pulled his hand loose, seeing the blood fall down to his floor, relishing in the pain, it helped. He could hear his family screaming for him, then a break and a crash at the door, his family stood there in horror.

Fenton asked, "What is the meaning of this?"

Joe stood there, perfectly calm, blood running down his hand, "I had a nightmare."

Fenton was upset, his wife was upset, he held his anger in check, "Clean up this mess, we will talk in the morning about your behaviour."

Joe stalked by them, going into the bathroom the two brothers shared, grabbing the first aid kit, he bandaged himself up, but he watched in satisfaction as blood fell down the drain. He went downstairs, grabbing a garbage bag, he returned to his room, starting to clean up. He cleaned up the paper that were once his beloved posters, his drawings, he saw his broken mirror, picking a piece up, he touched its side, he saw it cut his skin quickly, Joe watched in fascination as he nicked his skin.

He kept the piece of glass, wrapping it up in a cloth, he hid it, wanting to use it later. He finished cleaning up, and returned to bed, fighting the demons again. The next morning, he woke up and listened as his father lectured him. He didn't care. He worked at his art more furiously, using his broken glass to help him with the pain. He cut himself, all over his body, trying to release the pain inside. He started practicing at the gym, at school, sparring with other people, trying to get his aggressions out. His fighting improved, his agility improved, he concentrated more in school, trying to get the pain to subside.

It was hurting to much inside, his family didn't know how to help him, how to stop him. Frank called all of his friends. Biker Conway was his best friend at this age, he knew a lot in this world. He started spending more time at the Hardy's, he knew Mr. Hardy didn't like him, but he was willing to put up with him for his son. Biker knew something was wrong. Joe held in so much unbridle anger, so much hurt. Frank cared for Joe, worried about him.

Joe locked his room at night, sometimes the glass was the only thing helping him. He didn't care anymore, he tried so hard to improve himself. To fight the bad guys, but he couldn't do it anymore. He wanted the pain to leave him, if just for a little bit, he made new cuts on his arms, his legs, feeling the blood seep out, he sighed. He cleaned himself up and returned to bed. His nightmares kept coming at him that night, replaying in his mind at how helpless he was. He couldn't understand the pain, why it was making him so angry and upset. He was getting to the end of his fighting.

He sneaked out of his house that night, he didn't see the eyes that were watching him as he left. Joe continued to keep running and running, he couldn't keep it up anymore, he hurt inside, he suddenly realized his anger was because he blamed himself over the little girls death, he jumped over a deep ditch, falling down, he scraped his knee badly, but he didn't care. He jumped, running to the bridge. He watched the current moving and he was drawn to it. He couldn't handle the pain anymore, the hurt, the nightmares. He climbed over, and jumped……

Joe screamed as he jumped, when he realized he had stopped. He looked up, seeing his brother and Biker Conway holding his legs. Joe looked back at the water that looked so inviting then, Frank grunted, "Don't little brother," and Joe wanted to live. Frank and Biker hauled Joe back up, over the barrier and sat down in the soaking rain. Joe fingered the mirror, still in his pocket. Frank looked angry and sad, Biker just looked angry. Joe couldn't handle it, he needed to cut but Biker's next words were, "When did it all start?"

Joe looked at him for the longest moment, then at Frank, who looked scared and young. He wanted to shrug, to make it seem like it was nothing. But he guessed he owed them something, "The little girl……it was my fault……I could have stopped it….distracted… something…." he said finally letting it out, he burst into tears, crying and trying to explain. Frank hugged him, gasping as he saw cuts all over Joe's arms, he looked closer at Joe's scraped knee and saw more cuts there. Joe poured out the whole story, how he had watched the whole thing and he didn't understand it, why take that little girls life, how she wasn't claimed. The two boys remained silent until Biker said, "I know how you feel."

Joe remained silent, watching him seeing the anguish in his eyes. Biker continued, "I was 16 when I saw a kid O'D in front of me, I had watched her take the drugs, but it happened so quick, I knew drugs were bad, and that it was wrong to take, but we had scored that bag, she was the first, the leader, and her life was taken. I didn't understand it either. I continued like much you did. I understand."

Joe was speechless, he didn't know that Biker went through that also. He wanted the pain to go away, when Frank asked. "Can you stop cutting Joey? I'll help, we'll both help, you aren't alone, we'll get through this…."

Breaking the habit

Joe asked timidly, his voice sounding very young and child like as he looked up at his older brother and best friend, "You'll help me?!!"

Frank nodded, "Yes Joe, I'll help," hugging his brother tight, "I love you Joe, like you wouldn't believe. I love you so much it hurts."

Joe nodded, Biker helped him up and as they were about to walk away, Joe stopped, moving toward the bridge, the boys were scared but followed close behind, Joe pulled out a cloth, unwrapped it. Both boys could see the fresh blood, and the old, they watched in silence as Joe thru it into the current. He turned back, and walked toward his life.

Tonight ……………………