Lab Partners - dnf

Scars

shame I can not hide
ugliness clearly displayed
shattered life never mended
brokenness written upon flesh
ashamed of unfading scars
tormented battle rages in my mind
screaming-just lay down the knife
weakness, failing again
another scar is traced.

Unfading Scars by Silentpoet Grl

Notes:

HELLO! I'm back! Sorry for the long break, my life has been crazy.
This chapter has taken too long to write, but never the less I am beyond happy with it and I hope you will be too! My life has been a bit crazy, I got a concussion, had to go to a funeral, and went to a taylor swift concert! A lot of ups and downs, but writing has helped me a lot! Thank you all for being here, I think you will love this chapter ;).
Thank you again to my betas, ira and rey!
Please leave Kudos and comments! I appriciate them sm!

TW:
Mention of Blood
Homophobia
Disassociation/Derealization
Mention of Eating Disorder
Mention of Physical Abuse
Mention of Vomiting
Panic Attack
Religious Trauma
Implied Sexual Content

(See the end of the chapter for .)

Chapter TextCHAPTER 9

When he was ten, Clay sat down to watch a movie called This Boy's Life. Made in 1993, the film was slightly grainy with basic camera angles. But something moved him when Dwight Hansen struck his son in the face. Perhaps he was moved in the wrong direction. In the direction of domestic violence and a flesh-eating guilt. Perhaps it was the resemblance between Dwight and his father. Their strong facial structures and duplicitous charisma. Glass shattered on screen the same way it did in his kitchen. The boy's blonde hair reminded him of his own and he hoped they would never wear twin bruises. The boy's name was Jack . And Clay couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.

The movie ended and Clay needed to refill the hole in his chest. Maybe he could play with his action figures and ignore the feeling that was slowly killing him. The sky drank some kind of black liquid, but Clay couldn't fall asleep. Everytime he closed his eyes, the image of Dwight Hansen hitting his son flashed in his mind. Jack's grunts of pain, begging—a mantra of please please, please— that sounded too much like his own. All the heart wrenching sounds, the words that fell out of his mouth, screaming for real love. Clay was haunted by the boy and his father. He prayed that he and Jack walked on different planes within time and space.

But Clay was wrong.

This Boy's Life would become the narrative for his future.

_________

George was crying. George was crying and Clay understood why he was created by God. Violet hyacinths bloomed on his cheeks and there would never be a sight more beautiful than this. A bouquet of lavenders died on the gym floor, and Clay needed to look away from the statue that crumbled in front of him. But George's hands held him close. There was silence around them, like everyone else in the world was dead. Their lifeless bodies littered around with wounds not much more painful than the ones from a father. The ones marked on Clay's face. Clay with his bruised eye and bloody cheek. Clay with his spiraling thoughts and shaky hands. Clay with malachite eyes and a blue soul. George moved his head, letting their foreheads touch. No words were exchanged, they didn't need to be. George's worry was not dismissed, it was simply replaced with quiet sobs. Sobs that said what his limp tongue couldn't. How? When? Why?

"George, George." Clay whispered. "You need to stop crying. I'm fine, I promise."

He shook his head, letting the petals stream freely. "No." His voice broke. "Don't lie. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying. I'm ok, I promise." He assured him, his voice mimicked an angel's. "It was scary when it happened, but it's over now."

"It's over now."