Pain - A TommyInnit Angst

Chapter 29

He was dead.

Tommy was dead.

Wilbur couldn't breathe; it felt like he was falling off a cliff but never having the sweet relief of hitting the ground.

The police had confirmed that the man was Derick Munsey, and he had then continued to confess to the murder of Thomas Simons.

They wouldn't let Wilbur see Derick. He had refused to disclose where he had dumped Tommy's body, although police suspected that he was somewhere close to the residence that Derick had recently been renting.

How could Tommy be dead?

He had been through so much, and it had to end like this?

How could a boy filled with life be stumped out in a matter of moments?

Wilbur was waiting with a police officer with specialist training on dealing with grieving people. He hated that that was what he was classified as: he was 'grieving'. Grieving for his little brother, who he had failed to protect.

The officer introduced herself as Laura; she tried to make small talk but Wilbur made it very clear that he didn't want to talk unless she received more news about Tommy. So they sat in silence as Wilbur allowed tears to flow freely down his face.

He jumped as the officer's phone rung, and hung his head whilst she talked, eventually looking up with watery eyes once the conversation had finished.

'They've finished interviewing Mr Munsey.' She said gently, 'He's finally told us that Thomas's body is in a nearby wood, so we have officers going out right now to retrieve it.'

Wilbur nodded, his throat tight and his eyes thick with tears.

'H-how did...' He couldn't seem to force the words out. 'How d-did he... you know...?'

'Strangulation.'

The word cut through Wilbur's heart as he remembered the hand-shaped bruises around Tommy's neck when he had rescued him, and recalled Tommy talking about how his father would sometimes strangle him, especially during the torture sessions. He couldn't bear that he had died like that; trapped with nothing but this psychotic man and his own traumatic memories.

'W-what else did he do t-to him?' Wilbur wasn't sure he wanted to know, but nothing could be worse than his own imagination and he knew it would be all over the news within a couple of days.

Laura sighed heavily. 'He insists that there was no torture involved, and the only violence he showed towards him prior to the murder was a few hits to the head. He said he kept Thomas tied up for the whole time.'

Wilbur nodded numbly, and tried to concentrate on the pattern of the floor tiles. They were grey, grainy and worn down, rather like his mental state.

A number of search teams had been sent out in an effort to locate Tommy's body, with Derick still refusing to disclose the exact details of where he had dumped him. Wilbur zoned out as Laura explained to him that they would be using search dogs and were hoping to find the boy's body before dark.

So they waited.

And waited.

And waited a little more, to no avail.

The large-scale search was eventually called off for the night, with only a few officers and dogs remaining out looking for Tommy's remains. Meanwhile, Wilbur refused to go home and instead stayed in the small room, knowing that he would be unable to sleep anyway. His phone had been ringing constantly to the point where he had had to turn it off; Derick's confession was not yet public knowledge, so Wilbur was the only one of Tommy's friends that knew. He couldn't face being the one who had to break the news.

Laura eventually left to try and get some sleep, and he was left alone, still staring at the monotonous grainy floorboards.

• • •

Still nothing.

Wilbur decided to drive over to the nearest police station to where Derick said he had dumped Tommy's body so that he would be there to identify him when he was eventually found.

'Can I join in with the search?' He begged an officer as he arrived.

The officer exchanged a worried glance with his colleague. 'There's nothing stopping you, but we would really advise against it. You might see some really gruesome stuff. He's been out there for almost a week now according to the suspect; that type of stuff isn't pretty.'

Wilbur considered this. 'I know,' he started, 'but I'm going to have to identify him anyway. I can't stand being here anymore, feeling so goddamn useless. Anything would be better.'

'Fair enough,' The officer sighed, 'We're heading out there right now, we can escort you if you'd like.'

Wilbur nodded.

• • •

The musty, damp smell of damp leaves and dirt filled Wilbur's nose as he trudged through the woodland. Every time he saw something in the corner of his eye, he jumped violently. He didn't want to admit it, but he was deathly afraid that he would be the one to find Tommy's body. But, as he had said to the officer, anything was better than being at the station and not being able to do anything. He was lost in his thoughts when he suddenly heard a shout filled with alarm and panic. Without hesitating, he ran towards the source of the sound, ignoring the branches of the dense trees scratching his face as he ran; what he saw was his worst nightmare.

'Mr Soot, please back away, you're not gonna want to be seeing this-' A female officer began.

Wilbur was still frozen, staring at what she had found; it was a brown woven sack that had been haphazardly placed under a thin layer of leaves and twigs in an attempt to conceal it.

'No, no, no... please no-' Wilbur lunged forwards, dodging the hands of another officer who had arrived at the scene. He began frantically trying to find the opening of the sack, discovering that it had been sealed with duct tape. He began to rip it off, kicking at any officers who tried to approach him and stop him. They were all shouting at him to drop the sack, claiming that he was 'destroying evidence'.

Did they not understand?

This was his brother.

More specifically, the week-old remains of his brother.

Or so he thought.

He finally managed to open the sack, letting out an anguished wail as his eyes fixed on the familiar mop of blonde hair, the pale skin, the bruised neck-

He was warm.

'Tommy?'

Wilbur momentarily froze in confusion. 'He's... h-he's warm, he's...' He placed his hand around one of Tommy's wrists, almost choking when he felt the faint pulse.

'He's a-alive, please, please help him, p-please don't let him die, I c-can't live without him, I-'

Wilbur was a nervous wreck, sobbing and violently shaking, clinging tightly to Tommy to the point where the officers had to pry his hands off the boy and carry him away.

Everything from there was a blur.

Wilbur's eyes were fixed on Tommy's body, his chest seizing every time he saw the boy's chest rise and fall.

The blue lights.

The wailing sirens.

Tommy.

Tommy was alive.

Was he?

A stretcher.

More sirens.

Police officers.

Crying.

Wailing.

Was that him crying?

It was.

A/N Thank you all for reading! Make sure to look after yourself and get something to eat and drink, and remember to vote <3