Safe Hands

18. The Struggle

Grayson returned from church feeling a surprising sense of peace. The service had been uplifting, and for a moment, he felt encouraged, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The church wasn't what he had expected—a place where only holy people dwelled and bad people had to stay away from. Instead, he was welcomed warmly and met other teenagers like himself, some with tattoos and piercings. They were all encouraged to trust in God for perfection.

Grayson trudged up the stairs, his body still aching from the previous night's beating. The notebook and stack of files Damien had assigned him loomed on the desk like a tower of misery. He sighed heavily, sitting down and flipping through the pages. The pain in his back and thighs reminded him of the punishment he didn't deserve.

He tried to focus, but the words blurred together, and the dull throb in his muscles made it hard to concentrate, worsening his headache. He started jotting down the morals he could gather from the files, but his thoughts kept drifting. He began listing his negative behaviors, as Damien had instructed, but his hand hurt, and his muscles were stiff.

He glanced at the clock. It was already late afternoon, and he had barely made a dent in the work. Exhaustion washed over him, and despite his best efforts, his eyes grew heavy. He grabbed the files, bringing them to the desk in his room, then lay down on his bed for what he intended to be a brief rest but soon drifted off into a deep sleep.

When Grayson awoke, the room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Panic surged through him as he realized how much time he had lost. He scrambled out of bed, awakening the resting headache. His body protested with every movement as he hurried back to the desk. He tried to make sense of the files, scribbling notes and writing down anything that seemed remotely relevant.

But the pain and fatigue were relentless. His hand cramped, and his back screamed in protest. Frustration bubbled up inside him, threatening to overflow. He slammed the pen down and stomped his feet hard against the floor as he groaned.

Grayson knew he couldn't afford to give up, but his body had reached its limit. He decided to take a break and headed downstairs for dinner, hoping that some food might give him the energy to push through the rest of the evening and somehow heal the headache.

In the dining room, Rosa had set the table, and the aroma of homemade lasagna filled the air. Grayson's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He sat down in haste, immediately digging in.

Damien entered the room, his expression stern as always. Grayson's grip tightened on his fork as he resented the man's presence, but he kept his gaze fixed on his plate, avoiding eye contact.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The tension in the air was palpable, and Grayson could feel Damien's eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move. He ate quickly, eager to escape back to his room and the daunting task that awaited him.

After dinner, Grayson returned to his room, determined to finish the work Damien had assigned. He forced himself to focus, ignoring the pain in his hand and the stiffness in his muscles. He wrote down more negative behaviors, recounting the incidents with Russell and Aunt Lauren. Each word felt like a dagger to his chest, but the effort was draining.

Hours passed, and Grayson struggled to keep his eyes open. He glanced at the clock again; it was nearing 8 p.m. Desperation clawed at him as he realized he wouldn't be able to finish in time.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Grayson's heart raced as Damien entered the room, his expression unreadable.

"Are you done?" Damien asked, his voice cold.

Grayson swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully. "I'm still working on it, but I won't finish today. My hands already hurt."

Damien's eyes narrowed. "Excuses won't get you anywhere, Grayson. You need to learn discipline and responsibility."

Grayson frowned slightly, avoiding Damien's gaze. "I'm not a machine," he muttered.

He could feel Damien's eyes burning holes in his head. "What was that?"

Gray sighed. "Nothing," he retorted with a low-key attitude.

Damien studied him for a moment. "Finish what you can tonight. Tomorrow, we'll see where you stand. But understand this, Grayson: there will be no leniency in your discipline. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Grayson said stiffly.

With that, Damien turned and left the room, leaving Grayson to his work. Grayson wiped his nostrils, taking a deep breath.

As the night wore on, Grayson pushed himself to complete as much as he could. The words blurred together, and his hand cramped painfully, but he didn't stop. He knew that this was his chance to prove himself, to show Damien that he could do the task.

Finally, just before midnight, Grayson put the pen down. He had filled most of the pages, and though his body ached, he felt a small sense of accomplishment. He crawled into bed, his mind still racing, but exhaustion quickly overtook him.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep again, there was a gentle knock on his door. He sat up, and Rosa entered, carrying a neatly folded set of clothes and a small bundle of school supplies.

"Grayson, you'll be starting school tomorrow," she said softly, placing the items on his desk. "I thought you might want to get ready tonight."

Grayson blinked, feeling a rush of anxiety. "School? Tomorrow?"

Rosa nodded. "Yes, it will be a fresh start for you. Here's your uniform, some notebooks, and pens. If you need anything else, just let me know."

He looked at the neatly folded uniform, the crisp white shirt, and the dark trousers. It felt surreal, like another layer of expectations being placed on him. But there was also a glimmer of something else—opportunity.

"Thanks," he muttered, feeling a mix of apprehension and a strange kind of hope.

Rosa gave him a reassuring smile. "You'll do fine, Grayson. Just remember, it's a new beginning. Take it one step at a time."

She turned to leave but paused at the door. "And Grayson, I'm proud of you for trying today. Keep it up."

As she left, Grayson stared at the uniform, his mind a whirl of thoughts. School was another challenge, but maybe it was also a chance to start over, to prove himself in a different way. He lay back down, clutching the pillow tightly. Tomorrow would be a nightmare, but he resolved to face it. After all, his life was a nightmare.

A/N

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