FEELINGS | Dream & Georgenotfound

Pain

Content Warning: Child Abuse, physical/bodily abuse
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George tried to regulate his breathing. He felt everything slowly become numb, like stone. He mistakenly looked into the eyes of Medusa, feeling her wrath taking control; creeping all the way from his feet, to his fingernails. No matter how unforgiving her eyes were, they failed at turning his torturous mind alike with the rest of his body. He was always left with those memories.

Too much time was wasted on trying to forget. No matter how hard he tried, they kept coming back to laugh at him. He sat on the cold floor balled up, surrounded by large, dark figures screeching at him.

George thought if it was even worth talking about. What was the point? What was it going to solve? No one had the bearing to understand his unbearable pain; accepting that was strangely relieving.

But now as Clay sits besides him, something feels different; it has been for a while.

He wondered if anything would change.

George looked down, refusing to make eye contact with the woman sitting across from him. He painfully grasped his hands together in his lap, trying to conceal his violent shaking. He couldn't stop his lips from quivering. His vision was completely blurred from the tears welling up in his eyes.

The room was cold; his thin, torn up jacket didn't help at keeping him warm. He looked down at his hands. They were all scratched up, his fingernails dirty from being outside, having to sleep on the ground.

"Are you cold?" Her soft voice wasn't comforting; it wasn't worth trusting. She stood up and walked towards him. He shut his eyes, his entire body began to shake, expecting something. His breathing became fragile as he felt her get closer. He slowly opened his eyes as he felt a blanket slowly being wrapped around his body. She sat back down in her chair.

"Is that okay?" She smiled.

He didn't speak. George continued to look down at the bleak table.

"So, I want to ask you some questions about your father." She tried to conceal the intensity of the question by sounding innocent, but George felt his heart racing, tears threatening to escape.

Please, not him.

"Firstly, I want you to know that you're safe here. No one is going to hurt you. We're here to help." She paused, "When was the last time your father took you to school?"

Silence, it was becoming deafening.

"George? It's okay if you don't know." Silence still ensued. He looked down, trying not to cry. He heard her writing something down.

"Does he feed you?"

George swallowed, "N-no," he let out a quiet sob. There was more scribbling from her clipboard.

"Does he buy clothes for you?" His heart only beat harder from this point, his stomach turned.

He shakily breathed in, "No," his voice nothing but a whisper.

"This might be hard to answer, but when was the last time he hit you?"

That was it, he couldn't hold it back anymore. George broke down crying, quickly becoming hysterical. He cried into his hands, crying harder every second.

"Why does he hate me?" George screamed, "What did I do wrong?" He looked into her eyes. She quickly broke eye contact, standing up from her chair and kneeling next to George.