Safe Hands

21. Detention and Discipline

Grayson walked into Mr. Harris's classroom, the air thick with tension. The room was empty except for the teacher, who sat behind his desk, grading papers. Grayson chose a seat at the back, hoping to avoid any confrontation. He pulled out his notebook and began working on the assignments Damien had given him, trying to appear focused.

Mr. Harris glanced up, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Grayson. "Mr. Smith," he began, his voice steady but firm. "I hope you're ready to explain your behavior in class yesterday."

Grayson kept his eyes on his notebook. "I wasn't trying to be rude," he muttered. "I just don't like talking about myself."

"That much was evident," Mr. Harris replied. "But you need to understand that respect and proper conduct are expected in my classroom."

Grayson bit back a retort and instead nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Harris stood and walked over to Grayson's desk, leaning against it. "Why did you say you came from nowhere?" the question came out softly.

Grayson shrugged, not meeting his gaze. "It is the closest to the truth."

Mr. Harris sighed, studying the boy before him. "I have taught a lot of students like you, Grayson. If you keep pushing people away, you'll never find a place where you belong."

Grayson said nothing, focusing on the work in front of him. Mr. Harris returned to his desk, the silence stretching out between them until the detention period was over.

As Grayson packed up his things, he remembered that Damien was picking them up again. His heart sank, knowing that Russell had probably already informed him about the detention. He made his way to the front of the school, dreading the impending confrontation with Damien.

Sure enough, Damien was waiting by the car, his expression stony. Russell sat in the car, a smug look on his face. Julian was there too, looking anxious.

"Get in," Damien ordered, his voice cold.

The ride home was silent, the tension in the car almost suffocating. Grayson stared out the window, his mind racing. When they finally pulled into the driveway, Damien's voice cut through the silence.

"Grayson, go to your room. We'll talk shortly."

Grayson nodded, keeping his eyes downcast as he hurried inside and up to his room. He quickly changed out of his uniform, knowing better than to delay. He sat on his bed, his heart pounding, waiting for the inevitable talk with Damien.

Damien entered the room a few minutes later, his face a mask of controlled anger. He closed the door behind him, the click sounding ominous in the quiet room. Grayson could hear a small voice whispering, "dead."

"Do you want to explain to me why I received a call from the school about you forging my signature on detention slips confirming what Russell was saying?" Damien began, his voice low but filled with menace.

Grayson swallowed hard as he thought of the look the secretary had given him, his mind scrambling for an excuse. "I didn't want you to be disappointed," he said finally, hoping to somehow touch Damien's stony heart.

"Disappointed?" Damien echoed, his eyes narrowing. "You thought forging my signature and lying would avoid my disappointment? That's not disappointment, Grayson, that's anger. That's betrayal."

Grayson looked down at his hands, his stomach twisting with an emotion he couldn't explain—maybe guilt or fear, or a mixture of both. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Sorry isn't enough," Damien snapped. "This isn't just about detention. This is about your constant lying, your refusal to follow rules, and your disrespect to everyone around you. Why can't you stay out of trouble?"

Grayson clenched his fists, anger bubbling up inside him. "I didn't want to go to this stupid school in the first place!" he shouted. "I hate it there! The system is crap, and the teachers are jerks!"

Damien's eyes flashed with fury. "That is enough!" he roared. He unbuckled his belt, pulling it from his waist in one swift motion. "Stand up."

Grayson glared, suppressing his fear, but he stood, his legs slightly trembling. Damien's face was a mask of anger and contained frustration. "You need to learn to take responsibility for your actions," Damien said, his voice cold. "You think you can lie and cheat your way through life? It will lead you to jail or worse, death."

He grabbed Grayson by the bicep and spun him around. He raised the belt, which came down hard on Grayson's back. Grayson gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out, though the pain was intense. Damien struck him again and again, each lash burning and searing into his skin.

After what felt like an eternity, Damien paused, his breathing heavy. "Stand in the corner," he ordered. "Face the wall."

Grayson obeyed, assuming the position, his back throbbing with pain. Damien continued lashing him, the sound of the belt striking his flesh echoing in the room. Tears pricked at the corners of Grayson's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He knew he might have done something wrong, but Damien had no right to take it out on him like that. He was only trying to survive.

"Say it," Damien demanded between lashes. "List what you did wrong."

"I forged your signature," Grayson choked out, his voice strained with pain.

"And?"

"I lied," Grayson continued, his voice breaking.

"And you will never do it again," Damien finished, his voice like ice.

"I will never do it again," Grayson repeated, his body trembling.

Damien delivered one final, hard lash, then stepped back. "Look at me, Grayson!"

Grayson turned around slowly, meeting the man's electric blue gaze with his own stubborn, silvery-gray one.

"You must take responsibility for your actions, Grayson. This behavior will not be tolerated. Do you understand?"

Grayson nodded. "Yes, sir." The pain was overwhelming, but he refused to show any more weakness.

Damien's face softened slightly, but his voice remained stern. "You need to learn to clean up your act, and that includes cleaning your room properly. Your room is a mess."

Grayson said nothing, his silence a mix of defiance and pain. Damien sighed, his anger seeming to dissipate slightly. "Someone needs to teach you, Grayson. You need to understand that actions have consequences. I don't know who's been letting you live like this all these years, but it has to stop."

With that, Damien left the room, closing the door behind him. Grayson walked with trembling feet to the bed, lay on his stomach, his body aching and his heart heavy.

He felt a deep sense of injustice, anger simmering beneath the surface. He lay there for a while, the events of the day replaying in his mind. He knew Damien was trying to make a point, but all Grayson felt was resentment and hurt. The beating had been harsh, and the sting of betrayal cut deep.

As he lay there, he promised himself he would find a way to survive, just as he always had. Grayson knew he had to be smarter, to stay ahead of Damien and Russell particularly. He had to find a way to regain control of his life, even if it meant bending the rules. Because in his world, survival was all that mattered.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, but he ignored it, turning to face the wall instead. The knock continued three more times before light footsteps entered; Grayson recognized them immediately.

"Uh," Julian trailed off, "Uncle Damien said I should teac— um, help you arrange." He paused, waiting for a response but receiving none. "Okay..." Julian continued as he got to the task, "You should try telling Uncle Damien the truth. It makes him less angry and the consequences are less severe sometimes, you get completely off the hook." Julian added as he went to check the closet. Grayson ignored him completely, making a mental note to scare him to death one day.

A/N

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