Pain - A TommyInnit Angst

Chapter 24

It was over.

So why didn't it feel like it?

Tommy had expected to feel light, to feel free, but instead he just felt heavier. His parents had both been given 12 years in prison without parole, and he had a permanent restraining order against them. He knew he would never have to see them again, but that didn't mean that the aftermath of what they had done to him was gone. In fact, it was worse; seeing them in court and having to talk in such detail about everything seemed to have just opened up old wounds.

They hadn't gone to the beach after the court case; Tommy had begun hyperventilating as soon as they left the courtroom, to the point where they had had to stop the car for him to throw up on the side of the road.

Wilbur's heart sunk when he saw what a state Tommy was in; seeing his parents had been even more damaging than expected. The boy flinched at every unexpected movement, even small ones, and he was shaking uncontrollably and hyperventilating. Wilbur felt stuck, unsure of what he could do to help and eventually coming to the conclusion that he could do nothing.

Once they had finally arrived back home, Wilbur held Tommy's shoulders to steady him as they walked inside. He sat him down on the sofa.

'Toms, look at me, you just have to breathe, okay?' He began to count, desperately trying to help him slow his breathing. Tommy opened his eyes slightly and focused on Wilbur's face, trying to follow his counting but failing miserably. He began to choke on his sobs; he felt as if he were suffocating, as if his father had somehow felt a way to again wrap his hands around his throat. He began desperately clawing at his neck, leaving bright red scratch marks. 'Tommy, please, you have to stop.' Wilbur began to panic, grabbing Tommy's hands to try and stop him from hurting himself. The sudden contact made the boy flinch even more, and Tommy seemed to have been transported back to the past once more; he was locked in a memory. He was hunched up, whimpering and begging invisible people to stop hurting him. All Wilbur could do was watch.

It was the first of many Wednesdays to come. Tommy didn't know what was in store, only that last week his parents had told him that he needed to lose two kilograms of weight by Wednesday or they would hurt him. Tommy didn't even think it was possible to lose two kilograms in such a short space of time, and they beat him every day anyway, so he didn't pay much attention to the weight goal.

Now he wished he had.

He was pinned down on his bed, his parents discussing what they were going to do with him. All they had done so far was the normal kicking and punching, but what they were discussing now sounded far worse. It seemed that they hadn't yet decided what they were going to do; eventually he was dragged off the bed and into the bathroom where his father ran a sink full of water. Tommy stared at it, confused, before he felt a hand on the back of his head, forcing his face underneath the water; he didn't even have time to take a breath before he was completely submerged. He began to panic, desperately trying to push his head above the water; he was already running out of air, and his lungs were beginning to burn. He knew what he should do; he should go limp and pretend that he was unconscious. However, this was easier said than done, and his lungs were heaving, begging for air, causing his whole body to violently flail.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Tommy breathed in, his lungs filling with water that felt as heavy as concrete. His parents finally released him and he stood up, choking violently, heaving as the water left his lungs. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; his eyes were bloodshot and bulging; he looked inhuman, like a wild animal.

But were his parents satisfied?

Of course not.

They lead their choking son back to the bedroom and again pinned him down, deliberating on what to do next. From what Tommy could hear, they had decided that almost drowning him was too 'boring'. He breathed a sigh of relief; that was, until they decided what they were going to do next. His mother left him alone in the room with his father, who busied himself by slamming his fists into Tommy's limbs, ignoring the boy's frantic begging and pleading.

Eventually, Tommy's mother returned. She was carrying a large, silver knife. As she approached, Tommy continued to beg, sobbing uncontrollably, his mind racing. He began to pray for a way out of this.

But his prayers were left unheard.

His mother began carving into his back, and the red-hot twisting sensation begun. Tommy was screaming, begging for help, even though he knew that nobody could hear him, he began to pray even more profusely and-

'TOMMY!'

Back to reality. Tommy froze, slowly opening his eyes. Wilbur was standing in front of him, hands on both of his shoulders, his face and arms covered in scratch marks, some of which were bleeding slightly. Tommy looked down in horror and saw blood caked under his fingernails. Wilbur's blood.

'W-wil... I-I'm so sorry.'

'Fucking hell Tommy, you don't need to be sorry.' He wrapped his arms around the boy, and Tommy sat there, still too shaky to reciprocate the hug.

Wilbur pulled out of the hug and looked at Tommy. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

'I-I, uh, was having a f-flashback to... to the first time t-they hurt me after weighing m-me.' Tommy choked through his sobs.

'Oh Christ, Tommy, that's shit. I'm so sorry all of this has happened to you. You deserve none of it.'

'But w-what if I do? What if I d-do deserve it?' Tommy sobbed into Wilbur's shirt.

'Nobody deserves to go through what you've been through, Toms.'

All Tommy could do was continue weeping, his entire body shaking.

He thought about his past, about everything that had happened, and suddenly he was filled with an overwhelming, sickening feeling of anger. He looked up at Wilbur, his eyes still puffy, but he was no longer crying.

'Wil, why the fuck would they do that? They didn't have to have a child, but they did anyway, just so they could hurt me over and over again. They ruined my fucking life, Wil.' All Wilbur could do was sit there and listen to Tommy as he vented.

'I'm never going to be able to sleep properly again without having nightmares. Every time someone moves suddenly, I fucking flinch and brace myself to get hit. Shouting terrifies me. They've made me so depressed that I think about taking my life every single fucking day. I'm covered in all of these scars – I'm never going to be able to go to the beach without wearing a swim shirt.' He was sobbing again, not out of sorrow and terror, but this time out of pure unadulterated fury.

'They've taken so much from me, and they had the fucking audacity of not confessing so that I would have to testify and go through all of that shit again. I'm so done with them, Wil. I'm so fucking done.'

'That's good, Tommy,' Wilbur replied cautiously. 'We need to get you to a place mentally where they can no longer control you. This is one step closer.'

Tommy nodded. 'It doesn't feel like it though. That's the hardest thing; I can't even be proud of myself for getting better because I don't feel like I deserve it.'

'What do you mean?' Wilbur pressed.

'I feel guilty for eating because I feel like I don't deserve food. I feel guilty for not hurting myself because I think I deserve the pain. Deep down I know it's not true, but I spent seventeen years dealing with constant abuse, and I just can't get out of that mentality.'

Wilbur thought for a moment. 'I think that the issue is you're still not used to living in a house where you're not being constantly hurt; it hasn't really sunk in yet, so subconsciously you're still living by the rules of living in an abusive household. But you'll get used to it eventually, Toms, and this will be the new normal. It might take a while, but we'll get you there. I promise.' Wilbur took a deep breath before continuing with the next sentence. 'So, I've been thinking about it a lot, and I think the best thing to do to step towards normality is for you to go back to school.'

Tommy looked up at Wilbur, his eyes widening in horror. 'No, please Wil. You can't do that to me, please. I'm seventeen, I can legally leave school. Please. I can't do it.' He had begun to shake again, and Wilbur noticed.

'Okay, Toms, but we need to think of some other things to make your life feel normal again.'

'I'll start streaming and making videos again.'

Wilbur raised his eyebrows. 'Are you sure you're ready for that?'

'Readier than I'd ever be for school.'