Regiphobia

The Father

The rest of dinner drifted by in a love-filled haze. The two spent as long as possible together. However, soon Juan had to leave, Gabe came back, and the castle slept.

The next day, King Gabe was busy with meetings and paperwork, which left Goda alone. He left a note for Juan in the mailroom and made his way up to the third floor. Unfortunately, he ran into someone.

"Goda. I was looking for you," his father said, towering over him. He crossed his arms, "Come on. We have some things to discuss."

Goda nodded quickly, terror in his eyes. He followed his dad, shaking in fear. He kept his head down. His heart was pounding in his chest. He knew what 'discussing' really meant. It meant his dad was angry. He didn't dare try and leave as they walked down to the second floor. Eyes trained on the floor in front of his feet. Like this, he couldn't see Juan, hiding behind a pillar as Richard held open the door of the Queen's Sitting Room for Goda.

Juan walked to the door after it fell shut. He heard the lock click. That wasn't a good sign. He walked to the door, listening in. Thank god Richard talked loudly.

"So. Goda. I think you have something to explain," Richard said, crossing his arms. He had walked around the table in the center of the room, facing his son.

"I d-dunno what you-"

"Drop the stutter," Richard sneered, eyes growing harsh.

Goda swallowed hard and talked slowly, starting words over whenever he stuttered, "I dunno what you m- what you mean."

"You don't?" Richard said, voice gaining more and more anger with every word. He slammed his hand down on the table, and Goda cried out in fear. "Like hell you don't! I told you to fill my fucking bank account, didn't I? And there it is, untouched, because of just how fucking useless you are!"

"I'm s-sorry!" Goda said quickly, instinctively throwing his arms up to cover his head as his dad walked around the table. He didn't care whether his dad was lying or not. He didn't care if the request was selfish or stupid. He just had to stay safe. He had to stay alive.

Closer, closer, closer, closer.

Goda blacked out when his dad pulled his fist back.

When he could see again, he was sprawled on the floor, his dad shutting and locking the door behind him. Goda curled up into himself, starting to sob and tremble. He had a black eye, a bruise covering his left side, and he couldn't feel his right leg. He heard the door rattling. He clapped a hand over his mouth to shut himself up, but it was too little too late.

The door flung open, and a familiar voice shouted, "Goda!"

"J-Juan-" Goda sobbed out, crying out when he tried to move his leg. His right leg was really messed up.

"Goda, I'm here, I've got you- just- oh my god-" Juan said quickly, looking over his wounds. His eyes were frantic as he tried to process it all, "Can you stand?"

Goda shook his head, and Juan nodded, "OK- uh- I can carry you to the hospital wing! Oh god, your dad did this to you? I didn't- OK, OK, I got this." Juan slid his arms under Goda, lifting him up nearly effortlessly. He noticed how light Goda was, but now wasn't the time. He ran out of the room, running to the stairwell and through the Great Hall. People gasped and moved out of the way when they saw who Juan was carrying. Mutters of, "What happened?" and "Who could have done such a thing?" spread through the crowd.

Juan shoved his way into the hospital wing, crying out, "He needs a doctor!" His voice turned heads, as did the broken boy in his arms. A doctor immediately came to him, directing him to lay Goda on a bed as people started rushing to his side. It didn't take long for Juan to get shoved out of the way.