"Come on Peter, show me your arms."
He sighs and lifts up his sleeves as he prepares himself for the daily routine that has been occurring since last Monday.
"May, I didn't do anything, see?"
His aunt shook his head.
"Show me your stomach."
Peter lifts his shirt above his waist, his cheeks flushing red from humiliation.
"Look. I'm fine May, why can't you trust me?"
His aunt glared, but he could see the tears starting to form in his eyes.
Silence.
"You know why, Peter. "
It's true. He did know.
Peter avoided his aunts gaze.
"Now show me your legs."
He clenched his fists in frustration as he lifted one leg out of his sweatpants and the other followed, dropping them next to him and standing still.
His hands fell to his sides as his aunt seemed pleased with what she saw, and walked out, leaving him to redress.
An idiot. How could you? Why were you so stupid.
Nobody likes you.
If you ran away you wouldn't be a burden anymore.
Peter was so tired of being tired. Numbness gnawed at his head, like the drugs he had been lectured on refusing ever since he was a child, it fogged his insides, making him empty to the world surrounding him.
His eyes watered, a noise escaped through the back of his throat, and no matter how badly he wanted to cry, the saltwater in his tear ducts never fell. Teetering upon the edge.
Just like him.
He wanted to cry.
He didn't.
He didn't want to cry.
He did.
Wrapped in his blanket, sobbing and covering his chapped lips so he wouldn't wake up anyone. It was dark. He wanted to sleep. Why was it so hard?
Peter hated the routine.
Wake up.
Snooze the Alarm.
Sleep until the next alarm buzzes and he has to get up.
Listen to sad music on the bus and watch Ned stop sitting next to him because he stopped engaging in conversation.
Try to focus in period 1. Don't cry.
Try to focus in period 2. Don't cry.
Leave his friends during break so they don't see how bad it's getting. Hope someone notices.
Try to focus in period 4. Don't cry.
Try to focus in period 5. Don't cry.
Skip any after school clubs. he just wants to go home.
Lay in bed. Can't move. Procrastinate.
May asks what he's doing. Take out some papers.
Working.
Cry.
Stare at the ceiling for 3 hours.
Sleep.
YOU ARE READING
sin covered sleeves and faltering faith
Fanfiction"Peter, I think you should talk to someone." He laughed. "I am. You." MJ smiled sadly, but it came out as more of a grimace. "I mean someone older. Like a social worker or something. I think it would- it would help." He swallowed roughly. Did he sa...
