2000. CDC DENGUE EPIDEMIC Treatment Facility, Nicaragua.

Léo Peloquin huddled in line with the other teenagers waiting for treatment. His body ached, but not like the infirm around him. If he kept his head down he could make it through this farce and back home before his parents were released.

He was grateful for the outbreak. Probably the only one. It’d given him a respite while his parents got better. To think, if his parents had taken this trip to tour properties they wanted to develop, they’d have been gone before the Dengue Fever got this severe.

The last week was the best seven days of his life. Mom and Dad were too sick to get up, which meant he’d been able to hide in his room, far away from everyone. But as he’d come to learn, every break from their cruelty was short lived.

The line shuffled forward. He stepped into the gymnasium at the local school and peered around, his curiosity getting the better of him. Léo wasn’t allowed to attend public school or have friends. His parent’s rules were stricter while they were here. His parents viewed the people of Nicaragua as below them as if they were somehow better because they were from Spain.

The gym had been transformed into a series of sectioned off patient rooms using some sort of tent fabric. His parents had turned their noses up at the idea of coming here once they accepted that they had contracted the virus, opting instead to go to the hospital. The local hospital had turned them away, citing the CDC was better equipped to help with the outbreak.

Léo had tried to cover up his laugh by pretending to cough. He was pretty sure Mom had noticed, which meant he’d have to pay the price for it later.

“Next. This way.” The nurse held out her gloved hand and gestured for Léo to enter one of the examination rooms.

He ducked behind the curtain and stared at the older woman decked out in scrubs, a mask and gloves. She glanced up at him and the skin around her eyes crinkled with a smile.

“Hello there. Have a seat?”

Léo nodded and sat on the chair she indicated.

He could pretend to be sick, couldn’t he?

Then again, what if he told someone the truth?

He fantasized about that from time to time, but he’d given up the hope of being rescued long ago. No one felt sorry for the poor rich boy.

The nurse chatted at him while she took a blood sample and applied the blood to a set of test strips. She seemed nice. What would it be like to have someone like her as a parent? He doubted she’d lock him in the coat closet. What would it take to convince someone like her to take him away from this?

Day dreaming was foolish. He knew better.

“Can you remove your shirt, please?” the nurse asked.

“Is that...necessary?” He hunched his shoulders.

“Afraid so.”

He could handle this. There was always an explanation. He’d tripped. Fallen. Whatever.

Léo grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, keeping his gaze on the ground.

The nurse stood there for several, long moments.

Neither spoke.

She knew. Some people didn’t understand or couldn’t see it, but she did.

Sweat broke out along his back, hair line and under arms. He couldn’t draw attention to his parents, not after the last time someone had come asking questions about him.

“I’m going to get the doctor. Stay right there,” the nurse said.

Léo stared down at himself. In the light of day the bruises were worse. Darker. How had he ever thought he could play this off as part of the rash associated with Dengue Fever?

He glanced at the door flap.

Maybe he should slip out now. He wasn’t sick. He didn’t need to be here. No one need bother themselves on his account. The only reason he’d been swept up in this was because someone had to drive.

Léo pulled his shirt on, stood and took a step toward the door flap. He peered out through the crack, searching the people moving from exam room to exam room. The nurse was nowhere to be seen.

Dreaming about a better tomorrow was well and good, but his reality was that nothing would ever change. His best chance was with slipping out now with none the wiser about who he was or what was wrong with him.

The canvas side of the examination room rustled.

Léo whirled around and stared.

A doctor in a white coat entered from the side and not the front.

Léo froze.

For several moments they stood there, Léo examining the wood grained floor and the doctor staring at him.

“Sit down and take off your shirt, please?” The doctor pulled the chair to the middle of the examination room.

Léo briefly considered ducking out, but that would only draw attention. He sat on the edge of the chair and stared at the toes of his sneakers. The doctor waited, but Léo didn’t make a move to take his shirt off.

The doctor finally approached him and gently lifted the back of Léo’s shirt. The doctor pressed against his ribs, down his back and on the fleshy parts of his abdomen. Léo tried not to wince, but even after a week some places still hurt. Finally the doctor’s hands came to rest on his shoulders. They were warm despite the latex against his skin.

“Do you want this to stop?” the doctor asked.

Léo tilted his head to the side. What was the doctor asking?

“I can make sure they never hurt you again. Would you like that?”

Léo swallowed. He would, but the truth was, unless his parents were dead they would never stop hurting him.