strange Midnight || Brooklyn Wyatt.

chapter 4.

•At the evening •

“Brooklyn It's your cure time” the disgusting-muscled security guard said after he opened the door of the punishment room.

“Okay Im coming” Brooklyn sigh, knowing that there’s no escape from this session, he was sent there to be cured anyways so what’s the use to try and scape sessions, right?

Brooklyn stood up, walking after the guard and to room six, doctor Marley’s room.

“Hello brook. how was your day, bub?” Dr. Marley smiled as she always does and gave Brooklyn some water and closed the door after.

Brooklyn sat down on the old chair in the middle of the room, “Im fine, and I missed you.” he smiled a pure smile that melted her heart at his cuteness.

“Brook you’re such a cutie,” she told him and massaged his head for a moment making him relax a bit before sitting down.

“Tell me about your day ,go ahead.” She asked and that made Brooklyn go anxious, this day was so stressful for him— more like he was dying slowly today, and he hated talking about it but he has to.

Brooklyn’s eyes trailed down to the floor, biting his bottom lip slowly as he replied the events of the day on his head.

“it was a stressful day, really.” He finally said — stuttered otherwise.

“Really?” She pushed on.

“I talked-talke-d with Caroline and she started to be nice with me,” he smiled remembered this part of the day, “and... this thing happened again at midnight..” He told her in a trembling, shaky and hesitant voice.

“Tell me about the midnight thing, and take your shirt off.” she commanded, standing up and walking to him.

“My hands started to light up, my skin turned to green and blue and it was like the fish’s skin — m
Y’know like everyday nothing changed.” He bit his lips and took his shirt off, already knowing what she’s gonna do, and to be honest: he was scared as hell.

She took a box from her disk and opened it, revealing the tall and thick needles that Brooklyn fears. She took one of them and carefully dipped it on Brooklyn’s hip, she took another one, this time putting it beside his belly button, and so goes on until there were at least 10 needles dipped on the poor blonde’s boy body.

He tried to suppress the cries of pain while there were an ironic sticks dipping on his body but there were still some moans and whimpers skipped his small rosy lips.

“Drink this.” she commanded, giving him some green liquid — medicine — and he took it disgustingly while looking at it. it smells so bad,it looked disgusting — more like vomit , and it stinks, but anyways he drank it all at once anyways.

”Brooklyn wake up” someone yelled, the voice was familiar, yet Brooklyn couldn’t quite make out who it was.

he slowly opened his eyes, before closing them again adjusting the daylight, he blinked a couple of times before opening them properly seeing his mother looking angrily at him.

“what ?” He asked, looking around confused — he was on his room, but how?

“you have to go to your school now! WHAT THE ARE U DOING ON YOUR BED!” She yelled at him, which in return he started to feel his body shaking.

The woman — which is also his mother, had an iron tall sharp thing on her hand, that looked terrifying, and unfortunately, she started beating Brooklyn up with it.

“Mom,  Im sorry. please stop.” he chocked on his words, crying out of pain and he felt so light-headed due to the blood that were streaming down his body.

She finally decided to leave him and she stormed out the room, leaving Brooklyn with cuts and bruises all over his body, and of course blood everywhere.

This life has never been fear with him; he always gets bullied and harmed from everyone. People used to think that he’s stupid, not worthy, and what he deserves was: beating up to die. And in fact: no one ever deserves this treat.

People used to think of him as a slave, like he was just nothing.

his mother always loved harming him, in every possible way.

his friends (or enemies otherwise) used to bully him. and even his brothers and sisters, they loved to abuse him —  and he used to think that there’s one way, only one way to stop suffering, and it was: quitting life — committing suicide.