tw: this chapter contains sexual assault
Keep your eyes up, Barnes.
Settle on the chandelier, glistening above you. Watch it sway as you rock back and forth. Don't look at him, touching you.
He can't hurt you while you're in your head. You don't feel his cold hands on your hips, hot breath on your stomach.
Now you're thinking about it, and it hurts. It'll be over soon. It's so painfully slow, but you've been here a while, and it has to be over soon.
Should he tell someone? No, that wouldn't be very manly. A ten-year-old boy should be able to defend himself. Telling his sisters or his parents would just be embarrassing. Even so, it hurt to walk. Limping home, James wondered how he would climb his stairs.
He stopped at a drug store for candy, the few dollar bills he'd earned from shoveling snow burning a hole in his pocket.
"Heya, Jimmy." The owner of the drugstore knew James' parents. He'd lost his own son to cancer, the devil within.
Barnes waved in response. If he'd spoken, his voice would've betrayed him, forcing the truth to spill. Silently, he placed his pack of Twizzlers on the counter and payed.
James didn't sleep that night. He sat on his bed, unable to cry. He'd taken a bath to cleanse himself of the day's filth, and scrubbed his skin raw. Without dinner, he'd gone to his room and done nothing but think for nine hours.
Bad things only happened to bad people, it was simple. What had James done to deserve one of the most awful punishments imaginable? It must've been something really bad, and Barnes found himself hating that invisible aspect of his personality. How could he make it better? He could pray... but God didn't answer sinners.
"You're a very bad person."
Barnes jumped in his skin. Who was that? He looked around, not seeing anyone. The voice was deep, seething. It reminded him of a book his sister had read to him. Lord of the Flies.
"I'm no one. Just like you. In fact, I am you."
His mind reeling, feeling like Jello, James laughed aloud. He flopped back onto his bed. It was then that the boy realized that the sun had begun to rise. He peeked out of his window from where he lay, relishing in the new day. New day. New day. New day. Yesterday's tragedies burned alive in the fire of the early morning.
YOU ARE READING
ashes, ashes - stucky
Adventure"Losing control is scary, but sometimes it's the only way to find yourself." These words echoing in a young boy's mind, his thoughts grasping for purchase in an endless, schizophrenic void. Who dares to be set free from a cage that had, until then...
