Road To Home

Shattered

"Food's ready!" With a jolt upwards the teen woke up, still sat on the couch, only the tellie was off and a kid sat reading beside him in the place of Blake. Nights like yesterday scared Peter, he couldn't predict how those would go, it was worse than knowing just how bad things would get.

While rubbing his face Peter entered the kitchen, taking a slice of bread and beginning to clean the place, it had become part of the morning routine, which mainly consisted out of doing these types of things in hopes of lessening any possible punishments.

A set of hands landing on his shoulders caused his entire body to freeze up, a voice warm against his skin whispered closely to ear. "Goodmorning Pete." The teen took a shaky breath, "'morning Blake." A plate falling to the ground was like music to his ears, the shorter of the two slipped away quickly and began to pick up the shards. "It's okay Morgan, just grab a plastic one next time." He assured the shaken girl.

Heavy footsteps turned back to the livingroom and with that said farewell to Blake. Shards were thrown out, plates cleaned, and the floor vacuumed.

Tons of tiny creaks went through the stairs, bringing a smile to a young face,

"Bye Petey!" Some kids called out as they got ready for a birthday party.

"Have fun, stay close to the adults!" His response to the kids nearly every time they left.

-

The plates that were cleaned before, now lay smashed on the floor. Blake had had another one of his outbursts, this time an astray toy car had caused it.

"You kids never learn to clean up for yourselves, it is disgusting! How would you like it if trash was all around the house, huh?!" The older kids had been called down, anyone of them could have been grabbed; Peter was simply within closest reach. The back of his neck was held in a fist, whines leaving the boy who's face was pressed into the floor,, dirty once again.

"Do I have to do this every time, do you kids not learn?! It's like having a bunch of dogs!" Blake's voice was raspy, overpowering the boy's small sobs.

With a swift pull upwards he was lead away from the kitchen, before the boy knew what was going on he was tossed against the wall of a tiny walk-in-closet. As fancy as it might sound, this wasn't even a meter wide nor long.

"Learn to clean up then, filthy hound!" Blue eyes pierced Peter's, his hands bound together and onto a pole above his head.

"No, no, Blake please no. I-I'll clean up now!" His begging was ignored, the closet was slammed shut leaving the teen in darkness, unable to do anything but stand with arms above his head. "I didn't to anything, please let me out. I don't like it in here, I want out. Not again!" He incoherently sobbed, his feet weakly kicking the door.

Salt tears streamed down Peter's cheeks, the salt hurting the tiny cuts covering the soft flesh.