turned - muke - the distortion trilogy 2

2.1

MICHAEL'S P.O.V.

My still-filled-with-tears eyes are glued to the clock. It's ticking slowly, mocking me. Visitation hour starts in five minutes--at 3:45--and I need Luke. It's been about an hour since my therapy session with Dr. Lancaster ended, and surprisingly, no one has come to force me into doing recreational activities or group therapy or anything.

The clock reads 3:40. Is it too early to head down to the visitation room? It's only a minute long walk, but maybe they'll let visitors in early. I hope so--I don't know if I can wait another five minutes before falling into Luke's arms.

Taking a deep breath to compose myself, I stand up off of my bed. I smooth down my shirt and readjust my socks on my feet--seeing as they don't allow us to wear shoes--before padding out of the bedroom and into the hallway. I pass Ashton on the way to the visitation room--he must be headed back to our room--and give him a soft smile. He doesn't return it, but I didn't expect him to.

As soon as I get to the visitation room, I plop down on a couch. I pull my knees up to my chest, curling myself into a ball. I will myself not to cry--not until Luke is here to wipe my tears, at least.

Desperate to occupy my racing mind, I count until the clock hits 3:45. I get to 198, and then, just like everyday, Luke enters the room.

Except today, he's rushing. The expression on his face screams worried and his eyes dart around the room until they locate me. I see him let out a sigh of relief before he rushes over to me, engulfing me in his arms. Though I'm confused as to how he knew something was wrong, I don't object to the cuddle I'm receiving. He pulls me into his lap, allowing me to bury my face in his neck.

"I was so worried about you," Luke breathes out, trailing his fingers down my spine.

"W-Why?" I ask, frowning.

"Just felt like something was wrong," he mumbles, holding me tighter. "You're okay, right?"

I shift uncomfortably in his lap, removing my face from the safety of his neck. I can't bring myself to look at him, so I look at my hands instead. "I passed out during therapy," I admit quietly.

"What?" Luke demands, eyes wide. "Why?"

I bite my lip, already feeling a lump forming in my throat. "I, um..." I trail off as tears fill my eyes.

"You know you can tell me anything, baby," Luke reassures me, and I nod.

"W-When I was e-eight, my Uncle Steven abused me," I say, blinking away tears. I can't bring myself to look at Luke's face as I convey this information to him. "Like...s-sexually."

A quick glance at Luke's face shows me that he looks absolutely devastated, and I'm quick to bury my face in his neck again as I feel tears begin to escape my eyes. Luke wraps one arm around my back, using his other hand to cradle my head. "I'm so sorry, baby boy," Luke murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

I choke on my sobs, the sound muffled by his neck. He rubs my back, arms tight around me, whispering "I'm sorry," into my hair, over and over until the words lose their meaning.

-

LUKE'S P.O.V.

I feel like my heart as been ripped out of my chest as I hold Michael while he cries. I didn't realize that Michael wasn't aware of the fact that he was abused, that he couldn't recall the memory. His sudden remembrance is tearing him apart, and it's tearing me apart to watch.

I feel tears slip from my own eyes as I cradle him to my chest, rocking him back and forth as his whimpers get quieter and quieter. I take a deep breath before pulling back from him, holding his cheek with one hand while keeping the other wrapped around him.

"It wasn't your fault, you know that?" I ask him, using my thumb to wipe stray tears off of his cheek.

His bottom lip quivers and he looks down at his lap. "G-Gordon says it is," Michael mumbles. "S-Says I p-provoked him."

"No," I say sternly, shaking my head. "He took advantage of you. You can't be blamed for that. You can't let Gordon blame you, and you can't blame yourself."

He nods, but he doesn't seem convinced. "Why didn't I r-remember?" he hiccups.

"I don't know," I sigh. "That's weird."

"Do you think my p-parents know?" Michael wonders, and my heart rate quickens. Do I tell him that they do know? That Calum knows? That I knew before he told me?

"I think they do," I say, absentmindedly rubbing his hip with my thumb.

"Really?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I think so."

"How?"

I freeze. What do I say? "I don't know," I shrug. "Maybe they don't."

"Don't wanna tell them," Michael sniffles.

"That's okay," I promise him, pressing a loving kiss to his forehead. "You don't have to if you don't want to." A thought strikes me, and I frown.

"You know that you don't have to do anything with me that you don't want to, either, right?" I ask him, just to make sure. Seeing as we've both been sexually abused, I wouldn't see us as a very sexually active couple, but there have been times where we got a little heavy.

He nods. "I know," he says, nuzzling his head against my chest. "You wouldn't make me."

"Never in a million years," I agree.

"I love you," Michael breathes out, so softly I almost don't hear it.

"I love you, too," I respond, softly.

"Th-Thank you for protecting me," Michael adds.

I frown. I'm not exactly sure how I'm protecting him or what I'm protecting him from, but I'm glad I am. Maybe it's Gordon. Maybe Gordon is quieter when he's with me. I don't know, but I'm glad that I'm doing something right.

"Always," I murmur.

~

A/N: guys my first day of high school was today it was so awful i was on the verge of tears all day except for lunch bc i had it with my best friend but it was so stressful i got lost and accidentally went to the wrong room and i was so scared of all the upperclassmen (especially bc im only 5 feet tall) and making friends and i used to love school and now i hate school and my therapist doesnt have any open appointments for another week and ughghghhghghghhghhh so thats my life sorry i complain a lot at least teen wold is on tonight bye