patrick and henry (after the accident)

chapt 5 Butch

He was alive, and this frightened the boys, well, mostly Henry. He saw the way sweaty blood dripped down his forehead and the way his consciousness was stuck on the blathering screen. "Dad -?" Henry gasped as Butch peered over his shoulder. He didn't look shocked or pleased. He didn't even look alive. BUTCH mumbled and clenched his fists, his thoughts swarmed of beating both of them to a peach. Patrick just stood there unfazed, his eyes melted into a black hole. "Well, well, well, Butch Bowers made it back alive," he snickered as Butch's eyebrows furrowed in deep. Henry gave a glared to Patrick but kept quiet, completely startled by his dad's appearance. "Maybe I can kill you again, but this time henry watches,". Butch stood up and trotted over to the two, watching as their bodies stiffened like sticks. "D-dad, calm down he didn't mean it," henry stuttered, nudging Patrick. Patrick seemed surprised by this and even more by the way henry was... scared? He'd never seen him properly scared because normally he hid it with his narrowed eyes and broad shoulders. "Talk, now," he grunted and pulled his weight over to the kitchen.

"Bastard... I'll kill him again!" He grumbled but stopped as henry kicked his foot. He was now back to his usual angry self and pointed to the door. "You are going to get sorted in my room whilst I talk to my dad!" Henry declared, trudging over to the kitchen. Thoughts pondered in his mind. "Why the kitchen? Did he have his own animal fridge? God, I miss that fridge... no, we need to go back to the bedroom." With every muscle he could, he made his way to Henry's room but paused at the handle. A feeling pulled him back to the kitchen. He knew something was not right there.

Henry looked at his dad and then at the floor. The way he didn't feel guilty or even sad at all scared him. He was just plain scared. But... no, he wasn't scared. He was nervous. Why were feelings so complicated. He was snapped out of thoughts soon enough to the low grunt Butch made as he peered down at the boy.

Tw (you know what Butch does)
It was at this moment that Henry felt he was about to throw up. The rough pressure in his stomach all the way up to his throat stung worse than a bee. But it seemed that Butch wasn't bored. The eyes boiled with rage at the boy glued to the ground, deep red blood gushing out of his mouth and nose. It was his eyes that looked ruined. They were swollen with tears that had been flowing out with every plea Henry made. Butch grasped Henry's arm and threw him against the counter. "You look like your mum, y'know," he murmured, stepping back a little to observe his work. "Sound like her too. I remember the way she screamed bloody murder. The only thing she was useful for was used in the bedroom. Ashame that had to end when you came along," He became disgusted by his final words. "So why did you just get rid of me?" Henry questioned, his throat crooked with his words. He knew he shouldn't speak up, but he couldn't help himself. Butch chuckled. "Doesn't matter... you remind me so much of your mother," he started again. "Body wise too. Her hips. Just. Like. Yours. Looks as well. You took her from me and drove her mad. It was sad that they murdered her in there. But you. You are just like her."

Patrick circled the room, wondering what to do next. He didn't care what he was feeling or even if he was feeling. All he wanted to do was know what was going on. After minutes of this, he heard what seemed to be only described as pain. But there's was another noise. A grunting and a...groaning?! "Sh#t, Sh#t!" He yelled to himself and soon enough decided to take matters into his own hands. Charging through the hallway, he made his way to the kitchen. His heart jumped with every step he took. What the hell was going on in there. He bashed his elbow against the door, and not surprisingly, it swung open. Then his eyes fell on the dreaded sight. Henry sat on the floor top less with Butch the exact same, except he stood up straight, his eyes gleaming with anger. But Patrick's eyes flashed the same. They crumbled into a dark rage, and images of Butch dying soaked in his mind. The way his blood smeared around the walls and his screams echoing through the night. He wasn't going to tolerate what he did to Henry. The only answer was death.