Another amazing month of Whumptober has come and gone. Everything I posted this year has strictly been on AO3, but I figured a post here would help people find my work! The theme this year follows my book characters - demigods and gods - through their Hellish lives. @whumptober2021
The Wolf-God’s Daughter-guns, rape mention, hog-tied, painful transformation, whump of a minor
Lightning’s Wrath-character deaths, blood, suicide mention, whump of a minor, decapitation, choking, electrocution
Don’t Let Me Die Here- burning, knives, blood, waterboarding, breaking bones, familial abuse, major character death, whump of a minor
In the Temple of my Father-familial abuse, slow torture, branding, cauterization, fire, whump of a minor
CW: Ableism, abusive relative, abuse of a minor, pet whump references, BBU, some brief vague noncon references, blood, drowning kinda, death threats, just general ‘it’s gonna get bloody’ below the cut…
Jo looked over at her older sister, eyebrows raised in perfect arches. She’d lined them herself this morning - the whole eyebrow plucking thing had been a fucking disaster, and now she had to draw them on every day.
“What?” Ronnie looked up. Her sister, not even quite twenty yet, was hovering over a pot of water that would hopefully eventually boil for pasta. She looked older, and tired, and Jo picked at her own fingernails every time she visited to avoid bringing it up.
Two years ago, Ronnie had been seventeen and beautiful - now she was nineteen, nearly twenty, and she hadn’t slept well since before Paul’s stupid baby was even born, and it showed. Ronnie did smile more, Jo thought, a little grudgingly. Since she’d been kicked out of their parents’ house for refusing to give up Paul’s baby, she’d moved in with his parents during the pregnancy and now the two of them had an apartment and a stupid marriage, and Jo had to admit Ronnie smiled so much more.
Their parents hadn’t gone to Ronnie’s high school graduation, but Jo did. Ronnie had hugged her so tightly it hurt, having to sort of awkwardly shift her hips back so her huge pregnant belly could fit between them.
He wasn’t even born yet and the stupid shit was already ruining things.
There had been photos, a million of them. Jo had gone home that night and told her parents, “Ronnie looks amazing,” and they had turned to each other and kept talking like Ronnie - and anything Jo said about her - didn’t exist.
Because of Paul’s stupid. fucking. baby.
But now, two years later, the stupid fucking baby was a stupid fucking toddler, and Ronnie and Jo together watched him - wispy red hair floating like feathers around his head - as he made a low hum, again and again, holding a small plastic dinosaur and repeatedly opening and closing its mouth, staring fixedly at the sharply-formed plastic teeth inside.
“Oh,” Ronnie said, as if it was totally normal, nothing to worry about. “I don’t know, exactly.”
“You don’t know? I’ve never seen a baby just stare at something that long. Aren’t they supposed to have, like, no attention span? Or pretend it’s biting him or something? I don’t think I have ever seen that kid play pretend.”
Ronnie took in a deep breath. “They are,” She said, hesitantly. “Supposed to. But Tris… I don’t know. He does pretend play sometimes, he really does. Not when-… when it’s just us, or just the three of us, he does, he just… doesn’t, so much, when other people are around. His doctor says it’s nothing to worry about yet.”
“… yet?”
Ronnie dumped the pasta from the box into the water, and they talked about something else.
Joanne Botham comes home - to her sweet little bungalow, snapped up for a pretty penny in a good neighborhood around the outskirts of Berras, perfect for commuting into work at WRU - and dumps her purse on the floor, exhaling in a rush. She kicks off her sensible work heels into the little shoe tray she bought at some home goods store where everything cost about fifty dollars more than it should, but she’s got money to burn, these days.
Or she used to.
In any case, it could be worse.
Luckily, this is more or less a WRU company town, and things aren’t so bad here. The Olympics had aired while she was relaxing in the pool at a hotel in Sao Paulo, and she honestly hadn’t paid them any attention. She’d been vaguely aware of a commotion, a sudden rush of Portuguese from the staff and just about every language on earth from the hotel guests, but when someone said it was a press conference at the Olympics, she’d lost interest.
It wasn’t a terrorist attack or anything important - so she didn’t care. She was on vacation, and nothing was going to ruin her visit to Brazil. She had been taking a guided tour while some pet libbers tried to torch the WRU daycare and “free” the workers, leaving the poor things terrified and clinging to each other, running to the handlers who came to help them.
One of them was still missing, and probably had wandered off and died somewhere, and wouldn’t that be just what those fucking libbers deserved. To be responsible for that.
A handler had gone missing, too. There were rumors the daycare worker had offed him and he just hadn’t been found, but Joanne found that hard to believe. She’s worked on the copy for commercials with those placid little cow-people for years. None of them have a single brain cell not dedicated to childcare. None of them could swat a fly, let alone murder the handlers who keep them safe.
In any case, all of that had happened while she was still gone, had her work phone off, and ignored anything and everything sent her way.
When her plane touched down, though… that’s when Joanne realized the absolute pile of epic shit WRU had just been thrown into.
Two former pets - two people who should be current pets, actually - had spoken at a surprise press conference, and more than twenty Olympics athletes from fifteen countries had shown photos of people they claimed had been coerced, abducted, or otherwise forced into the pet system.
It was all fucking bullshit, but…
Well, it wasn’t allbullshit.
One of the speakers, turns out, had been none other than Paul’s stupid fucking baby, all grown up. He’d given out his real name, which the dumbass wasn’t even supposed to remember any longer, and it had been enough information for journalists to dig up who he was, what had happened to him, and most importantly, who his living relatives are.
There was an article in TIME magazine. Unlikely Voices - how two runaway human pets from WRU became the face of a movement and the cry for justice from a lost generation.
They’d done their research, all right. Tristan’s entire life had been laid bare in that article, in excruciating detail, up until… until he’d disappeared into WRU.
Which meant there had been a mini-profile in a little sidebar. Who is Joanne Botham? A shadowy figure from Tristan Higgs’ past… There’d been a photo of her, taken without her consent, but her attempt to sue had been dismissed.
His little stunt had been making Joanne’s job - and life - hell. She can’t even go into work in her own car any longer, there are reporters camped out who know her make, model, and license plate. She has to catch rides with different coworkers. She can’t go out to a simple restaurant without someone yelling at her, without discovering protesters at her car when she tries to go home. She can’t get her haircut without her stylist - someone she’s been going to for years! - suddenly refusing to cut her hair any longer.
Mysonis autistic, her stylist had said, voice cold. You’ve listened to me talk about Gabe all this time, how could you do that when you did what you did?
It’s not the same-
It’s exactly the same! Get out of my salon!
No one cares about Joanne’s side of the story.
Not that anyone ever has. Everyone’s always blindsided by Ronnie being obsessed with her kid or Tristan being pretty adorable when he wasn’t being terrible. Everyone’s always got wool pulled over their eyes, and only Jo has ever seen it for what it really is.
Tonight didn’t go any better than the last few weeks had. She’d been recognized while picking up takeout Thai food for dinner. The pet lib assholes had to be breeding like fucking bunnies, they seemed to be everywhere now. One of them had followed her from the restaurant to her car, asking her if she had any regrets.
“Yeah,” She’d said, her voice rough and harsh. “Talking to you, that’s my biggest regret.”
He was probably recording that. They’re always recording her, now.
At least her house is paid off, this little bungalow bought with cash from her finder’s fee after Tristan’s application had been accepted by WRU. Her car’s paid off, her house is paid off, her 401k looks amazing…
Maybe she should just retire now, and disappear.
How long would it take the pet libbers to pick some new target, if Joanne Botham wasn’t an easy enemy to find?
She drops the takeout container on the kitchen counter, the smell of cilantro, fish sauce, and chicken rising through the air, making her mouth water. She can’t even remember what she ordered, but it doesn’t really matter. She’ll barely taste it, anyway.
She grabs the remote and turns on the TV, checking the news channels with a nervous new habit. Nothing new, though, it looks like. Nothing too big.
Nothing to worry about.
She pulls down a bowl, dumping the takeout into it, looking at the chicken and shrimp swimming in noodles, sauce, and sauteed vegetables. They left the mushrooms in, she realizes. She had specificallyasked for no mushrooms-
“What a lovely little home you have, Miss Joanne,” says an older man’s voice from behind her, slightly creaky with age.
Of course they’d left the trail hours ago, and of course they’d got lost. Fred was still convinced they weren’t, promising the family that it couldn’t be much longer. He’d been off searching for some ancient burial and cremation area after being tipped off by one of his colleagues’ friends near where they were staying. The rest of the family went along with him - it was easier when he got excited about another part of history. But, that had been what felt like a lifetime ago. When Finn complained his feet were aching and he wanted to go home, Fred promised just a bit longer, because they just had to see it today. Finn’s argument that they were already dead and weren’t going anywhere didn’t put him off (or make him laugh), and they continued deeper off the trails.
Sheila followed behind Fred, chatting away to her husband and trying to gently convince him to turn back. Finn, meanwhile, had decided to make the best of a bad situation. He’d found a stick bigger than him and was whacking everything he could reach, Fao included.
“Finn, I swear to God if you hit me one more time with that stick, I’m gonna snap it in half.”
“That’s not a good threat.” Sheila called. “Then he’ll have two to hit you with.”
“Not if I have one piece.”
“Then one of you will end up crying.” She said. “Finn, put the stick down now.”
“No!” Finn protested. “It’s mystick!”
“It’s fucking lethal.”
“Mum!”
“Language, Fao.”
“Come on, Mum. Aren’t you on my side?”
“Not with that language.” She chastised before turning to Finn. “I think you’ve had enough of it for now. Why don’t you pick it up on the way back?”
“No.” Finn frowned, his face screwing up. “You won’t let me have it back.”
Of course it was the one time Finn saw through her plan. “Why don’t you find a smaller stick, then?”
“Or you could just stop hitting people with it.”
The warning in Fao’s tone made him hesitate. “Can I carry it then? If I stop hitting you?”
“If you stop hitting me I don’t care what you do. But if you hit people mum will take it away from you.”
“Fine.” He groaned, returning to hitting the ground and pretending he had a sword once more.
“Youare bloody lethal.”
He spun around again with it, smacking the bushes either side of the trail Fred was following.
“Fred, how much further?” Fao whined.
“You sound like Finn!” He called to his eldest. “We shouldn’t be far.”
“You’ve been saying that for hours.”
“Welcome to my life.” Sheila laughed. “We can’t be much further, can we?”
“No, no. We just need to find the burial ground and then it’s another mile from there to where we should be.”
Sheila rolled her eyes. “You said this wouldn’t be another all day thing!”
“If Finn didn’t have to stop to pick up every rock, it wouldn’t have been.”
“At least another mile? You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Fao, language!” Sheila shook her head at him. “That’s twice in the last ten minutes.”
“It’s Fred’s fault.”
“Uh, mum?” Finn interrupted.
Fao recognised that voice, and frowned at Finn. “What have you done?”
“Bees!” Finn shouted, diving past Fao and Sheila.
“What the fuck, Finn?!”
“They’remad!”
“What did you do?!”
“I hit them!” He peeked from behind his dad. “I didn’t mean to but you said I couldn’t hit you and I hit them instead and they stung me!”
Fao swatted at a bee that got too close. “Jesus christ.”
“They’re coming for me!”
“Finn, calm down. Stop aggravating them and they won’t attack you.”
“I’m gonna be so pissed if I get stung.” Fao grumbled.
“Just keep moving.” Sheila encouraged. “Try not to anger them, keep moving and we’ll get away from them.”
“Always fucking moving.” He muttered under his breath, but kept going, away from the angry bees. Trust Finn to cause chaos.
Finn yelped, tripping over his feet. “They’ve got me!”
It was Fred’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come here, Finn. Let me have a look. You’ll live.”
Fao moved to help his brother up, too distracted to notice the bee that landed on his arm. That was, until a sharp pain hit him and he swore, batting at the insect. “Finn! I’m gonna kill you!”
Harrison hadn’t seen the Daniels in years. He’d been passed from foster to foster, causing problems wherever he ended up. When his final placement fell through, he had nowhere else to go. He had no support to get on his own two feet, no education to get a job, and far too much alcohol to do much else.
His funds quickly dwindled, and nobody would help him. The little help he did get, he refused to accept it, kicking off until they left him alone. After a week of no electricity or water, he gave in, packed his bags, and headed for the Daniels.
By the time he got there, several buses and a few miles walk later, it was dark. His phone was long out of charge and he knew he should have called first, but he wasn’t that considerate. There was a chill to the air, but the alcohol kept him warm despite only being in a t-shirt. It took a few attempts to find the correct door, a few wrong answers and several angry people. He hammered on the door again, leaning against the frame.
Fao liked being home. Uni had been great when he lived away, but after Finn’s accident he needed his family, and Fao was glad to be there for him. Recovery had been slow, but he was always there to help his little brother out.
Everyone was scattered about the house when there was a knock at the door. Fred was cooking, Sheila was upstairs doing something, and Finn was apparently doing his homework (though Fao had his doubts). Fao was stretched out on the sofa reading at the time, the loud sound startling him. Were they expecting someone? Sheila hadn’t said anything.
He stood up and crossed the room to the front door, pulling it open. He didn’t recognise the boy stood in front of him, in scruffy clothes and looking slightly unsteady. He was probably a couple of years younger than Fao, but not much younger than that. He looked skinny and unkempt, and Fao frowned.
“Can I help you?”
“The fuck are you?”
“Uh, I live here?”
Harrison scowled at him. “Where’s Sheila?”
“Upstairs. You got a name, kid?”
“Fred, then.” He glanced past Fao. “Where’s he?”
“Look, who are you?”
“I don’t have to answer to you.” He swayed slightly. “Just get them, will you?”
“I don’t know who you are. Why should I get them?”
“Because I’ve asked you to.”
“I don’t even know who you are.” Fao said, folding his arms over his chest.
“So go get them.”
“I’m not just letting you walk into my house.” Fao’s voice was hard.
“Did I ask to walk in "your” house?“
“I live here, it’s just as much my house.”
"Like fuck is it. ”
“So you’re just gonna show up at the door and tell me what is and isn’t my house?”
“Fuck off with your high and mighty attitude, mate.”
“You’ve really got some balls, haven’t you? I just want to know what the fuck you actually want.”
Harrison shoved him. “I’ve told you.”
“Hey, hey. Watch it.” Fao growled, pushing him back.
“Stop being such a dick then.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“I’ve asked you to get Fred and you’re being an absolute dick.” He squared up to Fao. “So, yeah. You’remy problem.”
Fao pushed him back, hard. “Oh, fuck off. Stop being such a fucking cunt.”
Harrison stumbled back, tripping over the front step and landing sprawled in the driveway. “You’re the fucking cunt.”
“Yeah, whatever mate.”
He struggled to his feet. “You’re a fucking wanker.”
“Says you.”
He swung for the other boy, frustrated beyond belief. It wasn’tfair.
The other boy was slow and uncoordinated, and Fao countered his punch with his own, sharp and angry. He wasn’t taking any more shit from him.
Harrison staggered back. Fao’s punch had landed, making its mark on his cheek. Blood welled in his mouth and he swore before he spat it out. He swung again.
Harrison’s counter attack landed well, Fao reveling in his hit and too distracted to dodge. He staggered back into the hallway, reeling.
“Dickhead.” He spat.
Fao gripped the wall, his head spinning. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a wanker.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t just stand there and act like you own everything!” Fao snapped, his voice harsh.
“Coming from you, that’s rich.” Harrison shook his head. “I asked for one thing and you think you rule the place.”
“Almost as if it’s my house.”
“Yeah, right.”
Fao’s cheek, where Harrison had caught him, was throbbing, and he was sure a bruise was forming already.
“You’ve yet to give me a good reason why I should let you in.”
“I didn’t ask to come in, did I?” He spat. “I asked for Sheila or Fred.”
“What do you want them for anyway? How do you even know them?”
He wasn’t going to admit that. “I just do, alright? Please.”
“I’m not getting them without knowing why.”
“For fuck’s sake!” He snapped, trying to balance himself on the doorframe. “I’ve just fucking asked you to get them!”
Fao just reacted as the other boy moved to lean on the doorframe, and swung another punch at him. He had to look out for his family.
Harrison dropped like a sack of shit, landing in a crumpled heap. He hadn’t even seen Fao’s punch coming. Sheila, on the other hand, had.
“Faolan!”
Fao wasn’t a complete arsehole, when the other boy hit the deck he moved to crouch next to him, but Sheila’s shout made him flinch. Fuck.
“Go get Fred. You’ve done enough.” Her tone was hard as she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Go on.”
“I didn’t…” He said quietly. “I jus’…”
“Move it.” She clicked her fingers at him. “Now.”
His words died on his tongue and he stood up, bolting back into the house. Guilt curled in his stomach, and he went in search of Fred.
Sheila crouched by Harrison, gently rubbing his shoulder. Blood was pouring from his nose and his lip was split. She rolled her eyes. Boys.
Harrison jerked back from her hand, disorientated and swinging immediately. Nothing landed and despite his blurred vision he recognised Sheila, reaching for her with shaky hands.
Fred was cooking, and Fao was filled with dread as he stepped into the kitchen, bravado completely drained out of him. “F-Fred?”
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“Sh-Sheila wants you. D-door.”
He turned, still half-heartedly stirring. “What happened?”
He couldn’t do much more than lamely shrug his shoulders, struggling for words. “She wants you.”
Fred knew there was more going on, but also that he wasn’t going to get any more from Fao. “Stir that. I’ll back in a minute.”
Fao nodded. He could stir, he’d be out of the way then. He moved closer, aware of the blood on his knuckles. He was shaking, virtually trembling.
Fred wasn’t long, not entirely surprised to find Sheila crouched over a very confused Harrison. It had been a few years since they’d seen him, but he’d often turn up every few years anyway. The teenager had already thrown up over the front step, though Sheila had managed to start to control his bleeding nose - it was obviously broken.
The pair helped Harrison to his feet - he didn’t weigh much, more lanky than anything- and slowly took him through to the living room. They’d have to go to hospital, there was no doubt about that, but they needed to get him sorted enough to be fine in the car.
Fao kept quiet in the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters to keep himself upright. His legs felt weak, his chest a little tight. He’d fucked up, they were going to kick him out.
Fred called for Finn before he headed back through to the kitchen. Though Fao had attempted to stir, they needed to leave and it would be ruined by the time they got back. Fao looked like he’d seen a ghost, and he had a pretty nasty bruise blossoming around his eye too.
“Grab a hoodie, She’s taking us to hospital.”
Fao startled, looking up. “‘m fine. I’ll jus’ go up to my room, out of the way.” He said quietly.
“Not a chance.”
“‘m fine.”
“Yeah? That bruise looks fine. Hoodie, car, five minutes.”
He didn’t have a choice, did he? He toyed with just hiding in his room anyway, and then thought better of it. He didn’t want to get into any more trouble. So he abandoned the cooking, and rushed upstairs to grab a hoodie, feeling distinctly lightheaded.
They’d already managed to get Harrison into the car, a dish between his legs for when he inevitably threw up. Fao was directed to the front seat, Finn shoved in the back with his mum. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but had quickly been distracted.
Fred turned to Fao, offering him an ice pack. “You don’t look too great. Are you going to puke as well?”
He shook his head, but took the ice. “No.”
“Are you gonna pass out on me?”
“Probably not.”
“You feel dizzy?” He checked as he pulled off the drive.
“Not really.” It wasn’t a completelie.
“So, yes.” Fred rolled his eyes. “Let me know if it gets worse.”
“Notdizzy. I’m fine.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “We’re not impressed with all of…this. We’ll deal with it later, but right now, we need to make sure you two are okay.”
“Sorry.” He looked down at his lap. “I can go back to my flat after we’ve come back.”
“We’re not having a repeat of last time.”
He made a noise in protest. “I won’t.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it sorted.”
“Sorry.”
“Not me you need to apologise to, is it?”
“Oh.”
“He definitely came out worse off than you.” Fred glanced at Fao. “You’ve got a surprisingly good punch on you.”
“Rugby.” He mumbled.
“Yeah. Better be careful on nights out.” He said. “Don’t want you getting in trouble.”
“‘m careful.”
“Apparently so.”
Fao was quiet, staring down at his lap, the bruises blooming over his knuckles. “Sorry.”
“Hey.” Fred reached out to rest a hand on Fao’s knee. “It’s going to be okay.”
Fao flinched, pulling away with a sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry, sorry.” Fred placed his hand back on the steering wheel.
“It’s fine.”
He hummed. “Sure. That’s why we’re driving to A&E at this time of night.”
“I don’t need A&E.”
“That one does.” He gestured to Harrison. “Kinda your fault.”
“I didn’t mean to…”
Fred raised his eyebrow. “Looks like you did.”
“I-” Fao cut himself off. “Nevermind.”
“At least we don’t need a guard dog.”
“I was only trying to…”
“Break his nose? Did a good job at that.”
“No.” He protested, his voice wavering.
“What, then?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? Still fucking did it.”
“I’m not swearing at you, I don’t appreciate you swearing at me.” He warned.
“Sorry.” He mumbled, and decided not to say anything else.
Fred didn’t bother to reply. There was no talking to him when he was like that, and he didn’t really have the energy. Harrison was still throwing up in the back seat, Sheila having her work cut out trying to soothe him and keep Finn distracted.
Every time the other boy vomited, Fao winced. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, adding nausea to his guilt. He had half a mind to bolt when they got to the hospital, but he knew he wouldn’t get away with it.
Fred pulled in, dropping the car close to the entrance. “Fao, you go in with Sheila and Hars. I’m going to take Finn home. You can call me when you’re done.”
He nodded, pulling his hoodie closer, and got out of the car wordlessly. He waited for Sheila and Harrison, looking down at the floor.
Sheila said goodbye to her husband and son, walking the other two into the emergency reception. “I don’t know what went on between the two of you, but if you two cause any problems in the emergency department, so help me god.”
Fao shook his head. “Won’t.”
Harrison’s agreement was with his head in the sick bowl, looking up at Fao and then Sheila. “He started it.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did too.”
Fao huffed. “It’s always my fault.”
“Boys. That’s enough.”
Fao shrugged but fell silent. They headed inside and got checked in, Sheila sat between the two boys.
Harrison was seen to first, thanks to Fao knocking him out. She didn’t trust Fao not to run off, so made him sit outside the bay as Harrison was seen to. They had a bit more to check with Harrison too, the younger boy having just turned up on their doorstep.
Fao hated being stuck in the ED. Especially when he wasn’t really all that injured, and he didn’t really have Sheila for comfort. She was preoccupied keeping Harrison on the straight and narrow. It did make Fao wonder what the point of the both of them coming in was. Of course, he was stuck waiting, the A&E corridors cold and unwelcoming.
With Harrison reasonably settled in a bed in majors, Sheila headed to the corridor to find Fao. She sat heavily beside him, turning to look at the bruises on his face.
He looked over at her. “He okay?”
“Settled. How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Yeah, you look fine.”
He shrugged. “I’ve had worse. Don’t really need to be here.”
“I still want you checked over.”
“I’m fine.”
“Better than he is.”
“My fault.”
“I don’t know what happened between the two of you. That’s for you to sort out when you’re both better.”
“I fucked up.”
“I doubt it was all your fault.”
“Might as well be.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is in Fred’s opinion.”
“Did he say that?” She asked, nudging him.
“Pretty much. Said it was my fault we had to come in.”
“Well, you did knock Harrison out.”
“So it’s all my fault.”
“Did you need to knock him out?”
“Obviously not. I didn’t mean to knock him out.”
“What were you meaning to do then?’
“I don’t know, okay?!” He snapped. “He showed up, I didn’t know who the fuck he was, he got aggy, I didn’t want someone coming in the . house when I had no idea who they are and they were acting out. He looked like he was going to force his way inside, so I swung. He’d already swung at me, so… I reacted. I didn’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Sheila was calm. "Why didn’t you get one of us?”
“I don’t know. Because he was asking for you like he owned the place. And he was drunk, it put me on edge.”
“All the more reason to get one of us. Or just walk away, shut the door and all that.”
“I thought I could handle things. Y’know, look out for everyone.”
“That’s what we’re there for.”
“It’s different. I don’t know.”
“We’re the adults. The adult adults. We’re here to look after you.”
“I jus’ wanted to look after things.”
“I appreciate that, but it hasn’t worked out too well this time.”
“I know.”
“You can’t just get away with it.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“There has to be some punishment.”
He shrugged. “I don’t expect otherwise.”
“I know, but I don’t want it to be like it used to. The problem is that we have to have some repercussions for our actions, you know?”
“I understand that. I was never under any illusion that there wouldn’t be? I fucked up.”
“I just don’t want you to think we’re out to get you.” She said softly, leaning against him. “You were brave standing up for us, but it was just directed at the wrong person. With some stubbornness in there too, I bet.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“I don’t know what went on, but he’s not a bad guy, you know?” She continued. “He’s been through a lot, not unlike you.”
“He started the fight.”
“Did he?”
“He shoved me.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“So forgive me for being somewhat on the defensive.”
“I don’t blame you for that.”
“But you’re still mad at me. Why can’t I just go back to my flat?”
“Because I don’t want you to go back and just cut us off.” She said, frustrated. “You go back to your flat and you get off scot free from us and you beat yourself up.”
“You keep talking about consequences. Whatever they are, I can take them, but I’d rather you stop pussyfooting around them and just tell me straight. I’m assuming you’re not going to beat the ever loving shit out of me, so I kind of need to know where I stand.”
“Of course we’re not going to hit you.“ She took a steadying breath. "Right now, I need to focus on Hars and getting him out of hospital. We can talk about the consequences when you’re back home.”
Finn rushed down the stairs without a care in the world, his feet faster than his brain. From where he was stood at the top of the stairs, Fao tried to call out, but he couldn’t. It was as if his voice didn’t work.
His strangled cry for his brother to be careful was too late, as he tripped and fell. He landed in a broken heap at the bottom, his little body looking so lifeless, so wrong. And then there was the blood. So much blood, too much blood. For a moment Fao couldn’t move, and then suddenly he was crouched beside his brother.
He wasn’t breathing, his chest not moving at all. No pulse when Fao checked either. Just… nothing.
“Finn? Finn, don’t do this to me. Please, Finn.” He begged, as he struggled to start compressions. But someone pulled him away, dragged him off and told him it was a lost cause. He fought against them, screaming and crying out.
“Finn!” He screamed, the dream jolting into reality.
He’d screamed himself awake every night that week, but Finn had refused to leave his bed. He gently squeezed Fao’s hand, wrapping his other arm across his chest.
“It’s just a dream.”
Fao whimpered, curling into his brother. “Finn.”
“I’m right here. You’re okay.” He paused. “I’mokay.”
He exhaled shakily. “You’re ‘kay.”
Finn slowly moved their hands to his chest. “See? I’m okay. It’s just a dream.”
“You were…”
It wasn’t hard to guess what he’d been dreaming about. It plagued Finn’s nights more often than not. “I was. I’m fine now.”
Fao almost expected his hands to be covered in blood as Finn held them against his chest. But they weren’t, and he could feel the rise and fall of Finn’s chest as well as the rumble of his voice as he spoke. “‘M sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I am, though.” Fao mumbled, burying his face against his brother. “Love you.”
“You saved my life. No reason to be sorry.” Finn told him. “You know I love you too.”
“It’s always…” Fao’s voice cracked, and he paused for a moment. “You’re always gone.”
“I’m not. I’m here. I’m fine.” He promised. “We’re okay.”
“Can’t lose you.”
“You won’t. We’re brothers.” He pushed himself up to look at Fao, barely visible in the darkness. “Nothing will take that away from us.”
Returning home after his injury was odd. Easter things were still strewn around the house, Easter eggs still waiting to be eaten, but he had no memory of any of it. Everyone treated him like he was going to break, and half the time, he believed them. His whole world had turned upside down in a matter of moments, and he no longer knew where he stood.
Though they tried to keep it as normal as possible, it couldn’t have felt further from it. They’d all become used to being in hospital with Finn, used to all the busy of the ward and rehab. There were no longer strict mealtimes, observations every few hours, or the nurses popping in for a chat. The only normal thing was his bedtime.
After a day being home, Finn was all too glad to go to bed. He changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth before clambering into bed. Fao, of course, read him a bedtime story, staying until Finn fell asleep.
When Finn woke again, it was dark. He stretched out slowly, finding Lion under the covers and pulling him closer. He tried falling back asleep by himself, but he just couldn’t drift off. Things felt wrong and he couldn’t settle. It was easy to make up his mind, grabbing his blanket and lion before padding into Fao’s room.
“Fao?” He whispered into the darkness. “Fao?”
Fao stirred, lifting his head in the darkness of the room before he reached out to flick the light on. “Finn? You okay?”
He squinted at the light, scrubbing at his eyes as he made his way to Fao’s bed. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh, come snug then.” Fao said, moving over and pulling the duvet back.
Finn clambered into bed, wriggling to find the right spot. He tucked himself against Fao’s chest and sighed happily. “Night.”
“Night, Finn. Sweet dreams.”
His dreams were the opposite, nightmares mixed with reality and twisted into something worse. He woke with a panicked cry, trying to push himself away from the nurses holding him down again. When they didn’t immediately let go, he screamed.
Finn woke Fao long before he woke up. His brother wriggled in his sleep, digging his elbow into Fao’s ribs. He kicked out, getting Fao in the shin as well. Despite his attempts to wake him up, Finn was truly fast asleep until he startled awake and tried to push Fao away. He wasn’t exactly strong, and so when Fao didn’t move, he screamed.
“Hey, hey. Finn. It’s me, it’s Fao. You’re safe.”
Between the panic and (word?), Finn couldn’t hear him. He kept fighting, struggling with the duvet and the hands forcing him into the bed. His hands curled into fists as he tried desperately to get away.
Fao sat up. “Finn? It’s me, it’s Fao.” He said slowly.
Finn had finally escaped from the duvet and he backed up against the wall. His chest heaved as he tried to figure out where he was. It was too quiet for the hospital, but he could hear Fao in the dark. His nails dug into his legs as he tried to catch his breath.
“You’re alright.” Fao soothed. “You’re safe, you’re at home.”
The light flicked on. “Boys? What’s wrong?”
Fao looked up, the big lights making him squint. “Nightmare, I think.”
Finn dived for Fao, burying into his brother’s side. He gripped onto him tightly, fingers digging into his skin.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
“Do you need anything?” She asked quietly.
“Maybe some water?” Fao asked softly.
She nodded and quietly slipped away. Finn had chosen Fao for comfort, she might as well help how she could.
Finn struggled to catch his breath, pressing closer to Fao. Tears streamed down his face and he whimpered softly.
“I’m here, you’re okay. Take a deep breath, yeah? Copy me.”
He shook his head, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t doing well at all.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now, just me and you.”
He pressed closer, curling further into Fao’s side. Fao was a comfort, he always had been. He was always there for him, had always protected him and stood up for what he needed, especially when he couldn’t do so himself.
“I’ve got you. Mum’s gone to get some water, you’re doing so well. Focus on trying to slow those breaths a bit. Well done.”
Slowly, he began to calm his breathing, focusing on Fao and copying him. Sheila returned with a glass of water for each of them and silently placed it on the bedside table beside them. She shot Fao a look, but didn’t dare to disturb them. As she left, she flicked the lights off, quietly pulling the door to.
Fao flashed his mum a smile, grateful for the water and the quiet. “Well done Finn, that’s it. Shall we have some water, hmm? Gotta be thirsty from all that crying.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Just stay here then, hmm?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to try and sleep?”
“Not tired.”
“Shall we at least get comfy?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“No point not being comfy. Have you got Lion?”
“He’s here somewhere.”
“Shall we find him?”
“‘Kay.”
Fao moved to push the duvet back, looking for the stuffed animal. He was easy enough to find, thankfully, and Fao handed him to his brother. “Here.”
“Thank you.” Finn said quietly.
“It’s okay. You cuddle up to Lion, yeah?”
“And you.”
“And me.”
“Tell me a story?”
“What sort of story?”
“A good one.”
“A good one, eh?”
He nodded. “Please.”
“Alright. A good story…” Fao moved under the duvet a little, getting comfortable before he started to talk. He kept his voice low, in order to try and get Finn to feel sleepy again.
Fao stiffened at his desk, but didn’t say anything. If he didn’t react, maybe Tomas would think he wasn’t home. It was a long shot, but he had to try. It felt childish, to hide. But what else could he do?
“Faolan! I know you’re in there, you stupid fag! You can’t hide from me!” Tomas growled. “You’ve been stealing my cigs, you cunt!”
Fao bit his lip. He knew he shouldn’t take them, hell, he knew he shouldn’t smoke them at all. But there was a thrill to taking them from his uncle, and they really did help him out when he was stressed.
He had so much work to do, his GCSEs looming, that he frankly didn’t have time for Tomas being Tomas. He had pages of maths homework to do, and a French essay he’d not even started yet.
Tomas stopped shouting, and it seemed like he’d forgotten about Fao and the missing cigarettes. Fao managed to do his maths homework, even get halfway through his French essay and was considering going to bed when the door swung open and in burst his uncle.
“You’re gonna pay, you fuckin’ cunt!” He growled, clutching a mostly empty bottle of vodka.
Fao flinched, dropping his pen with a clatter. “Please, I…”
“Please!” Tomas mocked, laughing.
“I’ll buy more!” He protested.
“You’ve done enough, fag.” He slurred.
Despite being drunk, Tomas moved quickly, grabbing Fao and pulling him off of his chair. Fao’s knees scuffed on the floor and his breath caught in his throat. Fao managed to fight back a little then, stronger now than he had been as a younger boy.
But his fighting only served to make Tomas angrier, and after a few kicks to his ribs, Fao was gasping for breath. His side burned, his chest was tight, and he struggled to speak between trying not to cry and trying to stop the room from spinning.
He managed to kick the bottle from Tomas’ hand, thinking it would stop him. But instead, the bottle shattered on the hard wooden floor.
“You always ruin everything! Stupid cunt!” Tomas snapped, grabbing what was left of the bottle. The neck and part of the top were mostly intact, and he closed his fist around it. “I should’ve got rid of you like I did to your Da.”
This time, instead of the kick Fao was waiting for, Tomas pushed the broken bottle into his face and then kicked him to the floor. The glass caught just below his eye, where blood immediately welled up.
Fao cried out in pain, clutching at his face. He curled up on the floor then, surrounded by vodka and broken glass, trying to stop the sobs that escaped him. It was weak to cry. Tomas got angry when he cried.
But he couldn’t help himself. There was blood everywhere, and for a moment he was panicked he couldn’t see. But the world shifted back into focus eventually, and his sobs fell silent. His uncle was gone, apparently satisfied with his punishment.
He knew he needed to move, to get up and go to bed. But he didn’t trust his legs to hold him, and if he made a fuss Tomas might come back. If he didn’t move, and stayed put, maybe he’d be okay. He couldn’t do anything else.
Behold@deluxewhump baby Cam after his dad poured rubbing alcohol on his cut
(I realize the scar is meant to be on his right tight, but I only noticed I had the wrong side by the time I had finished the sketch and it looked shit if I flipped it over. Pretend this is his reflection, if you please lol)
I was just thinking about @deluxewhump Cam today… Baby Cam breaks my heart so much and even if he’s still a jackass I love the man he is managing to become
