The Game Developers Son

Chapter Three

Damien's POV

The two hours that we had on the ice felt like twenty seconds. It went by in a blink of an eye, as it always seemed to do so. Stepping back onto the rubbery floor, I stumbled over to one of the benches and took the slightly uncomfortable skates from off my feet. No matter how tight or loose these were when you put them on, when you took them off, your feet was always numb. Or was that just me? I pulled my knees up to my chest, to avoid getting possible injuries by the long line of the rest of Hunter's family, and slipped off my socks. There were red, risen imprints on my bare skin where the straps had applied extra pressure. Sighing, I slipped my socks back on, waited for his final sister stumble onto the rubber surface, and put my feet back down. The bottom of my feet ached as I put any kind of pressure on them. A gritted my teeth, pushed myself up, and shuffled over to the window where I collected my skates in the first place. The moment I received my shoes back, I shoved them on, tied up my laces, and dragged myself over to where my family was. They were already ready. I still don't know how they manage to get ready so freaking quickly. I sat down, next to Connor, on one of the wooden benches that was up against the wall of the rink. I could tell from his face, especially his eyes, that he was going to fall asleep in the car. His eyes were droopy, his mouth was gaping open slightly, and he was staring at seemingly nothing. I picked up his coat from the floor, wrapped it around his shoulders, and let him rest his head onto my shoulder. He closed his eyes, and started to breath heavily. We weren't even in the car and he was already asleep.

After a few seconds of sitting, running my fingers through Connor's wispy, pale blond hair, my Mom came over to the both of us and said that it was finally time to leave. Despite knowing that we would probably come back here nearer Christmas, like we always did, I still couldn't help but feel slightly upset as I picked up Connor and carried him back out to the car. As we walked through the relatively empty shopping centre, I couldn't help but notice that there was a rather large, fresh, cut above Connor's eyebrow that had been concealed by his hair ever since I first met up with him. An instant shockwave of fear hit me and dragged me under. How the hell did he get that?! I pushed his bangs back and studied at the injury closer. There was no way that it was caused by falling over-it was perfectly straight. It was caused by another person. Or, in an even worse scenario, himself. I ran my hands over the top of the cut, causing my younger brother to flinch in my arms and wake up with a rather loud squeal. Within a matter of seconds he was crying. Loudly. His body was shaking, and his fists were balled up so tightly that his knuckles were the colour of snow. His hands were also resting against my chest, so his nails dug into my skin, and I could feel blood staring to rise up to the surface. He was having another one of his meltdowns. Even though we were used to seeing these, people in the public weren't. They just thought my parents didn't know how to discipline him, and that he was having some sort of tantrum. I picked up my pace until I was practically sprinting. When I came up to the door that always happened to be locked, all I could do while I waited for the receptionist to open the door was to run Connor's back and pray that he would calm down quickly. I loved him, but I wasn't going to be able to handle two or so hours of him screaming during the car ride home.

The door opened, I thanked the person who so happened to open it, and ran forward. I darted through the small lobby, out of the main doors, and tried not to slip on the ice as I blindly made my way towards my parents car. The sudden cold air that hit us when we walked outside only made Connor's meltdown even worse. He pressed his face into my chest and started to sob even louder. He was also scraping his nails up and down my body, which probably would cause my skin to be rubbed raw by the time that he eventually calmed down. I finally made it to the car, which happened to be at the very end of the parking lot, and waited for my parents to unlock it. Connor's screams started to get louder. Ugh, why did this have to happen? He never has a sensory meltdown after ice-skating! He always fell asleep after ice-skating! What the hell caused him to act this way? Was it me running my fingers over his cut? Surely that couldn't hurt him, right? I sighed underneath my breath and stared up at the darkened skies above the town. I wished that Connor wasn't autistic. Aside from the horrible meltdown that left him both shaking and sobbing, along with injuries that he had done to himself, and sometimes even a painfully empty stomach from where all of his stress had caused him to vomit everywhere, his autism also made him constantly anxious. Although he's been living with it all of his life, it still must be hell for him. I wished that he could just get cured, so that he doesn't have to deal with the pain of this anymore. Most days, I really did wish that.