Pain - A TommyInnit Angst

Chapter 11

Tommy's injuries slowly improved over the next few days, and eventually he was able to get out of the bed and move around. He was still struggling to eat; having been starved for so long, his body seemed to automatically want to throw up every time he ate. Wilbur kept a close eye on Tommy's eating, noticing that the boy already appeared to be looking a healthier weight.

'Toms, do you think it would be a good idea to keep an eye on your weight? Just to make sure that you keep building it up and everything, you know?'

Tommy nodded, so the two of them headed up to Wilbur's bathroom. Tommy looked nervously at the scales, already sweating, his heart pounding. Images of his parents standing around, waiting for the results, filled his brain and he began to feel nauseous.

'You okay Tommy? We don't have to do this.' Wilbur asked, putting a hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady him.

'No. No, I want to do this.' Tommy didn't want to admit how much this was scaring him, he felt utterly pathetic.

He carefully stepped on the scales and closed his eyes.

Beep.

No.

No.

Not the beep.

Tommy began to shake violently. His breathing accelerated and he began to hyperventilate, swaying as if he were about to fall off the scales.

'Toms? Tommy!' Wilbur cried out. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder again, only this time he flinched away and began screaming. Tommy covered his face and began pleading with nobody in particular. Wilbur was frozen in shock; it was clear that Tommy was having a vivid flashback, but he had no idea what he should be doing. He tried gently touching his arm again, but this just resulted in even more antagonised screaming.

Tommy collapsed to the floor and sat, hugging his knees, rocking back and forwards. He would occasionally flinch, avoiding invisible fists, letting out terrified sobs. All Wilbur could do was stand back and watch in horror.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Tommy's breathing began to slow and he looked up, still softly crying.

'W-wil?'

'Tommy- I... I'm so sorry, I had no idea-'

'It's n-not your fault.'

Wilbur sat down on the bathroom floor next to Tommy and gently hugged him.

'You're going to be okay. I promise. It's going to get easier.'

'God, Wilbur, I j-just feel so fucking stupid.' Tommy stammered, 'I can't do anything without being reminded. I jump every t-time a car door closes. I start panicking when I hear footsteps on the stairs. I'm fucking broken, Wil.'

'You're not broken. Tommy, look at me. You're not broken.'

• • •

Going outside was a hurdle that Tommy had yet to face; the thought terrified him. He knew it wasn't healthy to stay inside all day, but for some reason he couldn't face the idea of going outside. Wilbur had brought this up with him a few times, and they had decided that they would try to go outside today for the first time, on the conditions that Tommy would tell Wilbur if he was uncomfortable or wanted to go back home.

Wilbur gave Tommy a large pair of sunglasses, a cap and an oversized hoodie to minimise the risk of them being recognised. He himself also wore dark sunglasses and a hat. They decided that they would go to the beach. It was early morning on a Sunday, so Wilbur assured Tommy it would be almost deserted; he was right.

The pair walked along the beach. Tommy breathed in the fresh air, gazing out at the glistening orbs of light that dotted the surface of the sea. He had expected to be anxious, but for the first time in months, he felt totally calm and at peace.

• • •

Once they had arrived back home, Wilbur suggested that they watch some television. Tommy eagerly agreed; he couldn't remember the last time he had watched TV; he had never been allowed to at home. They both sat on the sofa, and Wilbur pointed the remote at the TV, turning it on. Tommy's eyes widened as the screen flickered on, and a familiar face stared back at him.

His face.

With large red letters above saying 'missing'.

Tommy felt his throat restricting and, turning around to look at Wilbur, saw that he looked equally as shocked.

The television screen changed, to a scene of a news reporter standing outside Tommy's house. He was talking solemnly into a microphone, and the two of them could barely comprehend what he was saying. Tommy's parents were in custody; it was his neighbour – the sweet lady who had asked him if he was okay and knocked on the door in the middle of the torture session – who had called the police. The reporter stated that there was evidence of severe abuse within the household, and that the amount of blood that had accumulated in Tommy's bedroom over the past months was comparable to a murder scene. According to the reporter, the police believed that Tommy had either been murdered by his parents and his body had been dumped elsewhere, or he had run away. However, they said the latter was unlikely because of the amount of fresh blood on the carpets of his room; it was doubtful that he would have been able to run away after sustaining such terrible injuries.

Tommy sat, frozen, eyes fixed on the screen.

'Wilbur...' he whispered, shaking slightly, 'What do we do?'

Wilbur thought for a moment before turning to Tommy with grave eyes.

'Toms, I'm so sorry. We have to go to the police. This is no longer between us and your parents anymore, the whole nation is looking for you now.'

Tommy nodded slowly. He knew that Wilbur was right, but the thought still petrified him. He took his phone out of his pocket and opened Twitter, where he was met with tens of thousands of 'RIP' messages. He turned to face Wilbur.

'They think I'm dead.'

(A/N: Thanks everyone for reading! Make sure you go get some water, get enough sleep and eat something because you deserve it <3 )