Fractured Fragments Pt.1 (BoyXBoy)

5: Echoes of Redemption

Trigger Warning

*Chris POV*

"Come here fucking slut" he spat. My heart pounded in my chest as his grip tightened around my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin. I could feel the weakness in my legs, making it a struggle to support myself as he forcefully dragged me across the cold, hard floor. Each step felt like an eternity, leading me closer to that dreaded room where unspeakable horrors awaited.

In that place, I was reduced to a mere object, existing solely for their sick desires. Time ceased to hold meaning, and the days blurred into a nightmarish haze. The count of my captivity had long lost its significance; the passing of time was irrelevant. I was dead.

The sound of the lock being turned sent a chill down my spine, my body tensing in anticipation of the torment that awaited me. With a swift kick, he propelled me through the door, my body crashing to the floor with a painful thud. I felt the sting of scraped hands and knees as I slid across the rough surface, the physical pain momentarily overshadowed by the emotional torment I endured.

Struggling to regain my composure, I tried to rise, only to be violently yanked back towards my designated corner of the room. The shackles clamped around my wrist, the cold metal biting into my skin, chaining me to the confines of my prison once again. With a heavy thud, I collapsed to the ground, my body lying motionless.

As the door slammed shut, the echoes of their laughter still ringing in my ears, a suffocating silence enveloped the room. It was in this solitary darkness that I sought solace, my trembling form retreating to the safety of my corner. Hugging my knees tightly to my chest, I found a fleeting sense of comfort, a feeble attempt to shield myself from the horrors that plagued my existence.

In the midst of my tormenting nightmare, I felt a distant presence trying to penetrate the darkness. Their voices seemed muffled, as if coming from a faraway place. My consciousness struggled to emerge from the clutches of the haunting memories that held me captive.

Gradually, the fog of my dream began to dissipate, and the sound of my parents' voices grew clearer. They entered the room, their footsteps cautious, as if treading on fragile ground. Their intentions were pure, to offer me solace from the torment that plagued my mind. But my body recoiled at the thought of their touch, a deep-rooted fear gripping me like a vise.

I heard their soft whispers, gentle and filled with concern, as they called my name. "Chris, it's okay, you're safe now," my mother's voice quivered with emotion. They approached me cautiously, their outstretched hands a sign of their desperate attempt to bring me back to reality.

The moment their fingers brushed against my arm, a surge of anxiety coursed through my veins. My muscles tensed, my breath caught in my throat, and my heart raced as if it sought to escape its confines. In that instant, I recoiled, retreating further into myself.

Tears swelled up in my eyes, a mixture of fear and frustration. "Please... please don't touch me," I managed to whisper, my voice laced with vulnerability. Their expressions shifted, a mix of understanding and heartbreak etched upon their faces.

My parents, ever resilient, adjusted their approach. They took a step back, creating a respectful distance between us. Their presence remained, a source of unwavering support and love. They spoke soothing words from the doorway, their voices a lifeline in the darkness.

"Chris, we're here for you. You're not alone, you're safe now" my father's voice carried a sense of reassurance. My mother returned with a nightlight, gently plugging it in near my bed. The soft glow cast comforting shadows, banishing the oppressive darkness that clung to my thoughts.