Traumatized Love

Five

Drama, drama, and more drama coming up.:3

Thank you for all the comments and votes you guys have given me!!!

It means a lot.:)

Anyway...

Read.

Comment.

Share.

Thank you.^_^

WARNING: panic attack

Mitch woke up the next day, his eyes swollen from the tears he cried the night before. He stretched carefully, not wanting to exert himself. He removed his covers from his tiny body, getting off his bed only to fall down roughly on the carpet. The wind we knocked out of him, making him gasp in pain and tear up a bit.

"Pops?"

His voice was a weak and raspy whisper, his throat closing up from the sobs that were to come any minute now.

"Pops?!"

His voice was louder now, tears falling down his cheeks when he turned back to look at his legs, realizing that his prosthetic leg was off...

And on the other side of the room.

"Pops!"

No response.

"Pops!"

None.

"P-Pops."

Mitch finally broke in tears, calling for Avi louder each time while he sobbed. The door opened silently, Avi's quiet gasp making Mitch look up. Avi's bottom lip quivered as he picked up Mitch's prosthetic leg, running over to his son to pick him up.

"I'm so sorry, Mitch. I'm so sorry."

Mitch nodded, Avi helping him onto the bed carefully. The young teenager was inconsolable, his father's soft hands making sure the leg was put on correctly. Avi secured the fake limb on his son's stub, hugging him tightly as he ran a hand on his back.

"I'm so sorry, Mitch. I'm so sorry."

"I-it's okay. I wa-wa-was just so sc-sc-scared. I thought-I thought-"

"Thought what?"

Mitch's mind went back to that night, feeling rough hands push him back. He wasn't on his bed anymore, he was on the forest floor. The demonic laughter. The pain from the first stab, not knowing that many more were to follow. The drive to the hospital were he found out many things.

He can't sing anymore.

He was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

He lost a leg.

And he was the reason why his parents fought everyday ever since he was stabbed that night.

"Mitch, MITCH!"

Mitch was breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he cried. Avi was holding him, shushing him silently as he brushed the thin hair back. Mitch held back, his large yet dainty gripping the soft fabric of his father's shirt, the tender voice of the older man calming him down.

"Mitch, it's okay. The person who stabbed you won't hurt you anymore. It's okay. It's all over."

It's never over.

Mitch got his breathing under control after ten minutes, the scent of Avi's Old Spice cologne calming him down. He looked around, realizing one thing.

One thing that bothered him.

"Pops?"

"Yes, son?"