Conquering Nightmares of the Past

6: Sometimes Not Getting What You Want is a Wonderful Stroke of Luck

sam to the rescue!

tw//blood, injury, implied child abuse

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His feet pounded as he ran along the footpath. The backpack digging into his shoulders and the wind whipping harshly against his face. This fucking sucked. Wilbur had completely forgotten to account for his major lacking in the sports department, as well as the fact that he was running on 2 spoons of cereal, 1 bite of a burger and 2 bites of pizza. He did not have enough energy for this.

His steps were slower than they were 15 minutes ago, but he kept pushing on. He had to do this.

He kept running until his right foot hit an uneven pavement, tripping him and pulling him towards the ground. He smashed into the concrete with bursts of pain. He could see the blood on the ground below him, but his ankle hurt the worst.

He pulled himself back up into a standing position and immediately grabbed the fence post next to him to stop himself from falling. Fuck. How was he supposed to run now?

He looked around, trying to find... something. He wasn't quite sure but it seemed like his only option. As he was surveying the area, his eyes fell on a car in one of the driveways across the street. He knew that car. It was hard to see from how dark it was, but he knew that car. That car belonged to the only constant in his life.

Sam.

Logically, he knew Sam and Phil were friends, but Sam was the only person who had ever treated him nicely. Sam was the only good person in Wilbur's world. Plus, it's not like he had much of a choice. What else could he do?

Surely Sam would understand, right? Sam always listened to Wilbur, he was the only person who ever believed him. It was worth a shot.

He pushed himself off the fence post, limping across the road and finally reaching Sam's door. He hoped Sam wouldn't be too mad for waking him up at midnight.

He psyched himself up for a few seconds before reaching up and knocking.

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tap

tap

tap

Sam rolled over in bed, slightly disturbed by the noises from outside. He always was a light sleeper. He lay still, trying to ignore the sound and fall back asleep when he noticed something. Those taps didn't sound normal. They were too rhythmic, they sounded purposeful. They also sounded like they were coming from the living room.

Sam opened his eyes and looked to the side, making sure Ponk was still asleep before quietly slipping out of bed and walking to the bedroom door, opening it slowly so it wouldn't make too much noise. He walked down the hall to Georges room to check on him like he did whenever e got up at night. The 10-year-old was peacefully sleeping in his blue bed that was covered in stickers of clout goggles and the numbers '404'. He looked so sweet sleeping like this. Sam really loved this boy.

He heard the tapping again, walking down the stairs silently as he entered the living room. The tapping once again sounded and Sam's head whipped towards the front door.

What the fuck?

He slowly walked over to the door and peered through the peephole, flinging open the door when he saw the person standing (or trying to) on his doorstep.

He locked eyes with Wilbur. The kid who was supposed to be with Phil and who was covered in scratches on the right side of his body and seemed to be struggling to hold himself up. Sam immediately reached out and grabbed the boy, stepping forward to let Wilbur lean himself again Sam. Wilbur gratefully accepted, turning to press his face into Sam's pyjama shirt and sob.