Escape - Wilbur angst

Chapter 31 - It's cold, oh so cold

Very long and descriptive angst and selfharm today, enjoy my lil' readers. For those of you who don't understand the chemistry reference, ethylene glycol is a type of poison that has a sweet taste to it. 

He woke up due to his father and mother entering the house. Soft giggles could be heard, and Wilbur knew that this either meant, A - they were going to be all lovely dovely with each other and him, or B - they had something purely evil planned.

Realisation hit him as two cabinets were opened, the popping of a capsule being torn off sounding through the house. Footsteps moved up the stairs and Wilbur knew that there was no point in hiding; he was doomed.

A knock on his door caused him to start shaking.

When he didn't reply they knocked once again, probably assuming their son was asleep.

"C-come in..." he forced out. In walked his parents with disgustingly sweet smiles, his father carrying a glass of... something.

"I brought you something... special. I'd like you to try it." his father said, voice reminding Wilbur of ethylene glycol. 

The glass was passed to the child and the strong smell of beer made him scrunch his nose up. "I don't want to drink this... it smells bad, and children shouldn't have it..." he defended. Fear came over him as his father's gaze turn hard.

"I couldn't care less that you're twelve, it wasn't a question. Be thankful that I'm offering you this."

Wilbur nodded; he should be thankful for this. His father was giving him something he held so dearly, and he would be a brat to say no.

Slowly he sipped on the drink, it tasted disgusting, sour, and bitter. His disgusted face made a twisted smile appear on his father's face. "Go ahead, drink the rest."

The younger looked up at his father, silently pleading for him to not do this.

His father rolled his eyes and stepped forward; he was going to 'help' his son. Although his action caused the other to flinch back and he accidentally dropped the glass, its contents spilling out on the floor.

Shock turned to anger, and soon he found himself with small pieces of glass stuck in his forehead, most of it resting in his hair and digging into the skin it grew from.

He let out a shriek, pain burning on his head.

"How fucking could you! I knew it was a waste to try and be nice to him." his father turned towards his wife who nodded in agreement, a face of pure disgust on her face.

He grabbed his son by the hair, forcing the other to stumble behind him.

Wilbur was thrown out the back door and into their backyard. His father stood still in the doorway. "You're a disgrace to even have in this house. If I come back out tomorrow and you're not here - shit will go south. Do you hear me?" 

The younger nodded softly.

"I said, DO YOU HEAR ME?" his father yelled, causing him to flinch back.

"Y-yes s-sir..." he mumbled.

The door closed and he found himself stuck outside. He knew sneaking back inside would be a dumb idea, would probably result in a faster death than hypothermia.

As the night grew darker and the last voices of teenagers or young adults coming home from god knows what quieted down Wilbur was sat pressed against the house wall. It was cold but gave a sense of comfort.