Treasure Hunt (boyxboy) [Rewrite]

Treasure Hunt | One

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Music booming.

Lights flashing.

Raw throat.

Aching body.

I could never concentrate, could never focus. I tapped my foot harshly against the multi–shaded blue carpet. What used to be the equations of my geometry test now floated around the paper. I blinked my eyes shut repeatedly, even squeezed until I saw purple, but to no avail. They only continued to dance.

I sighed in frustration, staring angrily at it for a few more minutes before getting up. I set my no-where-near-completed test on the teacher's desk and she looked up at me. "I can't do it."

She hesitated, looking between me and the paper before letting out a heavy sigh. "You know your grades are really starting to suffer, Dalton." I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. "You went from being a top of the line honor student to barely maintaining a C-."

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. "It's just hard to focus on anything, anymore."

That's when she really started to look concerned. "Are you having problems at home, Dalton?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "You can be completely honest with me. If there's something going on, we can talk about it if you'd like, this is a safe place."

There was the fucking flashback every single time I closed my eyes.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away. "There's nothing going on at home. I just can't concentrate. That's it."

She hesitated again, and I knew she didn't believe me, but she accepted my unfinished test, shuffling it into a stack of other papers. "You can finish it on Monday, as for now, I think it's best if you went home."

I sighed as she signed me a pass to the attendance office. Meanwhile, I texted my mother, telling her to call and release me from school.

Again.

I drove myself home with my mom's permission; cringing as I walked in the front door, much like I had done for the last almost three months. Home is where you're supposed to feel safe, not want to climb into the shower and scrub yourself raw. And I'd done plenty of that in the last few months.

I discarded my jacket and shoes into the hall closet where my mother thought it best hidden away from company. I then climbed the stairs as fast as I could, closing my bedroom door behind myself. I threw my bag down before throwing myself on the bed.

"Dalton?" It wasn't long before she knocked on my bedroom door. "Sweetheart?" Opening it, sighing heavily to herself. "How are you feeling, honey? Do you want ginger ale? Some tea?"

"No." I shook my head and then started to play with the hem of my sweatshirt, letting out a shrug. "Don't really know."

She motioned for me to scooch over before she sat on the edge of my bed. "What was it, today?"

"I just can't focus on anything."

"Is it headache, migraines, what...?" She caressed the side of my face.