[COMPLETED]
trep·i·da·tion
a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen.
***
"You'll see the truth one day." I whispered against his harsh lips knowing this was wrong. The sensation was driving me insane, his warm breath panning...
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"Harry, what did you do?" My fathers voice bellowed, and my eyes widened in surprise dropping the frail piece of jewelry I had in my hand.
I felt the familiar panic shoot through my body, making a shiver go down my spine. I knew I shouldn't have done this, I messed up.
"I'm sorry!" My weak voice cracked as I looked up in panic. "I didn't mean to, I just missed mum."
I shouldn't miss her, but I do. Why is it so hard to forget someone who did something so bad?
"You shouldn't be thinking about that piece of shit," His voice was harsh as he stepped towards me, his tight grip wrapping around my wrist. "Why were you in here?"
I looked around the decent size closet as he dragged my body through it. Trying to grasp onto anything around me but I knew it wasn't worth it, I had messed up.
"I don't know," I cried out honestly, feeling my frail body drag across the floor. "Please don't do this! You don't have too."
Why was I crying? I thought I had reached the point where I knew it wasn't worth it anymore. I had accepted that I was going to forever be a twelve year old boy in fear of his life.
"You know I have too," That evil smirk on his face cocked as he dropped me on the floor in the center of the room. "Say it, Harry!"
"No!"
My eyes shot open, and my body flew forward. My chest was heaving up and down and my breathing was uneven.
There was a thin layer of sweat across my body as my hands grasped onto the sheets around me. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adapt to the dark lighting of the room.
It was just a dream.
I kept my head low as I tried to control my breathing. It has been a little while since I've had a bad nightmare like that. That's what stress does I guess.
My eyes darted at the clock on the night stand watching the number change. I couldn't look at the clock for too long without being reminded of that winding countdown I failed at.
5:48 a.m.
We would be leaving to go to Detroit at seven a.m., after a long day here in St. Louis. It was a rough show, but thankfully we didn't have a job or task, we were just off to another show the next day.
I couldn't think about anything else without feeling like I was going to panic. I didn't want to panic, not here, not now.
I clung onto the sheets as if it was some sense of reality, reminding me I was here. I was strong now, and I learned to fight back. My father couldn't hurt me anymore.
