Safe Hands

33. Dare Me!

The classroom faded, and Grayson was suddenly on a playground, hearing the distant echoes of children playing. Ahead, his mother walked into the compound, exhaustion etched into her face. Her dyed black hair framed tired eyes with dark circles underneath. Her habit of slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans when unsure of how to feel was evident. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away and approached him without a smile, just a blank expression.

"Let's go," she said softly, taking his hand gently.

"It's my birthday today," Grayson mentioned, searching her face for any sign of recognition.

"I guess, I'll tell Charlie, I've got some business to run," she replied flatly.

Grayson stopped, yanking his hand from hers. "No, please, I want you," he pleaded.

She clenched her jaw and crouched down to his level. "We both didn't ask for this, Gray. Life is not a fairytale; you have to deal with what you have and survive. You'll stay with Charlie today, and if you throw a tantrum, I'll let him know too, so he doesn't get you any candy," she threatened softly.

Grayson froze, then hugged her leg tightly. They walked in silence, her fingers running through his hair as she sighed. "You need to be strong. I can't pet you, Gray. I need you to be strong because I'm a failure. I can't protect you forever, or long enough until you mature. This is why I need you to be strong. You—"

"Grayson!" Mr. Simon's voice cut through the memory, snapping Grayson back to the present.

"Are you paying attention?" Mr. Simon asked, irritation clear in his tone.

Grayson refrained from rolling his eyes. He had walked into math class five minutes late, and Mr. Simon declared that he would be standing until the class was over. Fighting the urge to insult the teacher, Grayson knew Alex wouldn't approve, and it could worsen his academic record.

His feet ached, and the best he could do was escape into his memories, even if they were dark and cold. Mr. Simon strode to his desk, towering over him. "I asked you a question," he repeated.

"I know, I'm not deaf," Grayson retorted. The class erupted in murmurs and stifled laughter, amplifying the tension. Mr. Simon's face reddened with irritation.

"You seem to be full of yourself today. First, you walk in late and give me attitude. Since you're so confident, copy the text on the board." He handed Grayson a marker and a tablet. Grayson grabbed them with a light glare.

He started writing on the board, trying to keep his handwriting clean to avoid any remarks. "Is that an F or a P?" a small voice among the students asked.

"An F like this," Grayson said, raising his middle finger. The class exploded with laughter.

"Grayson, detention!" Mr. Simon snapped, furiously pulling out a slip.

"My bad, my finger slipped," Grayson said sarcastically, grabbing the slip. Some students laughed wildly, while the girl who had asked buried her head in her arms and cried.

The bell rang, and Grayson packed his bag, leaving the classroom. He didn't make it past the second class when he was shoved brutally to the ground. Turning around, he saw an angry Russell.

"You better apologize!" Russell yelled, red-faced.

Grayson slowly stood up, locking eyes with him. "To?"

"Maya," Russell fumed.

"Because?" Grayson asked shortly, about to lose his temper.

"You're a stupid son—" Before Russell could finish, Grayson delivered a rock-solid punch, sending him to the ground.

Russell got back up, tackling Grayson to the ground and delivering angry blows that Grayson shielded against. Milo pushed through the crowd of students, rushing to intervene and pulling Russell off Grayson.

"Stop it!" Milo yelled as Russell fought to go back.

Mr. Simon came in just in time to witness the attack. "Both of you to the vice principal's office!" he yelled.

Grayson wiped his nose indifferently and walked off.

**********

The ride home was dead silent, not even Julian could speak. Immediately they pulled into the luxurious compound, and Alex told Julian to go to his room. Julian looked frightened but decided to obey once the car engine died. Alex then instructed Russell and Grayson to go to the study. They both groggily obeyed. Alex walked in just after them, leaning on the desk with the boys staring directly at him.

"Russell," he stated.

Russell looked up, his face still red with anger, "Grayson was insulting the whole class. I tried to ask him to apologize, but he attacked me instead."

Grayson scoffed. "Liar."

"Shut up, Grayson!" Alex snapped, his face a mask of sternness. Grayson's jaw tightened, and he glared at Alex, feeling a mix of anger and betrayal.

"Russell, continue," Alex said.

Russell continued, trying to maintain his composure, "I just wanted him to apologize, but he punched me."

Alex turned to Grayson. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Grayson said nothing, glaring at Alex instead. The tension in the room could be sliced with a knife.

"Both of you know the rules: no fighting in the house or anywhere else. You're both getting the belt and Russell, you're grounded," Alex declared. Russell's eyes widened slightly while Grayson looked indifferent.

"But—" Russell tried and was cut off by Alex raising a hand to shut him up.

Alex proceeded with the punishment. Grayson went first, standing with his back straight, glaring at the wall as he prepared himself. Each stroke of the belt stung, but he clenched his jaw, refusing to show pain. Russell, on the other hand, cried out on the fourth strike, tears filling his eyes and threatening to spill. It was only ten lashes but it felt like inferno.

Alex asked Russell to leave and the boy was quick to disappear.

Now alone with Grayson, Alex's stern expression hardened. "Mr. Harris complained about your behavior, and I've received complaints from other teachers about your insolence and distraction during classes. And other students feel threatened by you, Grayson. This can't continue."

Grayson felt a pang of guilt but remained silent and angry.

"I won't tolerate these complaints anymore. The next time I hear of such behavior, I'll drag Damien into the verdict," Alex continued. Grayson's silence was deafening, his face a mask of anger and hurt.

"You can forget about going out this weekend," Alex added. Grayson's eyes flickered with frustration, but he still said nothing.

"Go to your room," Alex ordered. Grayson walked out, slamming the door behind him. In his room, he threw his bag onto the bed and decided to take a shower first, the hot water doing little to wash away the sting of Alex's words and the belt's lashes.

A/N

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