Broken Hands

39. School day

The alarm's soft, melodic chime felt almost mocking, its lullaby-like tune a stark contrast to the ache gripping Grayson's body. He groaned, burying his face in his pillow, desperate to cling to sleep. But the previous day's torment flashed vividly in his mind, dragging him back to reality. With a hiss of discomfort, he sat up, his muscles screaming in protest. Each movement was a sharp reminder of the endless laps and grueling punishments. The pain gnawed at him, stirring memories he tried to suppress-early mornings at Charlie's house, where soreness wasn't from running but from fists and fear. The thought alone made his stomach twist.

Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled into the bathroom, the cold tiles shocking against his bare feet. Stray, his loyal companion, was nowhere to be seen. It struck him for the first time that she always seemed to disappear at dawn. Where did she go? he wondered fleetingly, though he was too drained to pursue the thought further.

Under the shower's lukewarm stream, he scrubbed away the lingering traces of exhaustion, his mind preoccupied with excuses to avoid track practice. Mr. Dallas, he thought bitterly, mentally cursing the man. Maybe Damien could help. Surely, he could talk his way out of this madness.

Freshly dressed in his crisp, unwelcome uniform, Grayson caught his reflection in the mirror. He stared at the polished image of himself-the same clean-cut look as the day before, too proper, too alien. It didn't feel like him. With a frustrated sigh, he turned away and moved to his desk. The sight of untouched sheets greeted him like an accusation.

Damn it! His heart sank as he flipped through them. He hadn't touched his assignments, nor had he reviewed any notes from the day before. Exhaustion had claimed him the moment he hit the bed. A glance at the clock-5:30 AM. Barely an hour left.

He scrambled to gather the papers, stuffing them hastily into his bag. I'll finish it in the car, maybe before class if I'm early. It wasn't a solid plan, but it was all he had. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he raced out of his room, the gnawing urgency leaving no time for breakfast.

In the kitchen, Damien was nursing a cup of coffee, his voice low as he spoke into the phone. Grayson moved stealthily, snatching a soda, a few snacks, and an apple from the counter. Just as he was about to escape, Damien hung up, his sharp eyes catching the hurried movements.

"You're up early," Damien remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Grayson rolled his eyes. "Let's just say I don't appreciate running laps because someone forgot to mention I'm supposed to be excluded from all physical activities."

Damien set his cup down, pouring himself another round. "Your doctor cleared you. Said it's good for you. Just don't overdo it."

Grayson snorted bitterly. "Would've been nice to know. I nearly passed out out there."

Damien smirked, leaning against the counter. "Maybe if you joined Russell on his jogs like you're supposed to, you wouldn't be so out of shape."

Grayson scowled. "I do, sometimes. Better than Julian. He never runs-" He paused mid-sentence, realizing too late his betrayal.

Damien raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "I'll check with Julian then."

Grayson's stomach churned. Great, now Julian's going to think he sold him out. He quickly changed the subject. "Can we go? I need to get started on this assignment."

Damien nodded, grabbing his keys. "Grab Stray. She's due for the vet."

Grayson whistled, and Stray came bounding toward him, tail wagging. Her energy was a stark contrast to his sluggishness, and he couldn't help but smile faintly as she circled his legs.