Twisted Therapy

Chapter 8

Third person POV

Derek Baker's past:

Derek huddled in the dimly lit crawlspace beneath the stairs, his small frame trembling with fear. He could hear the heavy footsteps of his father stomping through the house; the man's anger was visible even from a distance. Derek's heart raced in his chest, each beat a thunderous drum echoing in his ears.

The crawlspace was cramped and dusty, with cobwebs brushing against his face as he pressed himself further into the shadows. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and neglect, but Derek dared not cough or make a sound that might give away his hiding place. He knew all too well what would happen if his father found him.

Just then, a door slammed somewhere above him, causing Derek to flinch. He held his breath, straining to listen for any sign of movement. The seconds ticked by like hours, each one stretching on endlessly in the crushing silence of the house.

Moonlight filtered in through a nearby window, casting ghostly shadows across the rough wooden floorboards.

Outside, a lone owl hooted mournfully, its call echoing the boy's own sense of dread. He could hear the distant murmur of his father's voice as he stomped around the house, searching for him. The boy knew that if he were caught, there would be no mercy. His father's rage was a force of nature, consuming everything in its path.

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as he thought back to the events that had led to this moment. The fight at school, the angry words exchanged with his classmate and teacher—all of it had been like kindling thrown onto a roaring fire. And now he was paying.

Derek's hands clenched into fists as he fought to control his ragged breathing, desperate for some way to escape the confrontation. But as his father's heavy steps drew nearer, Derek realized there was nowhere left to run. The sound of a door creaking open sent a jolt of pure terror through his body, freezing him in place like a cornered animal.

"Derek, you can't hide from me forever, you little shit," his father's voice boomed, each word laced with rage. The man's shadow fell across the floor of the crawlspace as he peered inside; his eyes narrowed in a threatening glare.

As their gazes locked in the dim light, Derek felt a surge of resistance rise within him. He knew he couldn't outrun his father's wrath, but he refused to cower before it any longer.

With a trembling breath, Derek slowly rose to his feet, meeting his father's gaze head-on. The air crackled with tension as they stared into each other's eyes.

Without warning, his father's hand lashed out and struck Derek across the face, the force of the blow sending him staggering backwards. Pain radiated through his cheek as he gritted his teeth, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry out. But as another blow followed, and then another, Derek could feel the fear and helplessness creeping in. He knew he had to endure this torment for now, but he swore to himself that he would break free from this torment.

Just as the final blow was about to strike, a soft whispered plea echoed through the house.

Derek's mother, unable to bear the sounds of her son's suffering any longer, had been listening from the floor above, her heart wrenching with each cry.

In that split second, she knew she had to act. Throwing the door open, she stepped between her husband and their trembling son, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and disgust.

"The boy's going to die if you don't stop this madness right now," she declared, her voice trembling with newfound strength. Derek watched in disbelief as his mother stood up to his father. Her voice broke through the tense silence like a lightning bolt. She took Derek in her arms, wrapping him in a protective embrace and shielding him from his father's wrath.