Clay POV
The situation soon resolved. Clay saw George whispering something that only Dave heard. Dave's expression drastically changed after that.
After the mysterious conversation, George pulled away the knife and pushed the guy forward, in what Clay guessed, was an attempt to gain some space between them. The three guys soon left the skatepark. Although the threatening situation had passed, a certain tension remained between the boys. Alex was the first person to ask the question that probably everyone else wanted an answer too. Clay could practically see George weighing his options, because he'd most likely realized that he wouldn't get away explaining himself.
George finally began talking, he gave a little backstory his former home and how some form of fighting skill was more or less a necessity amongst his friend group.
Clay listened but couldn't help but drift away into his own thoughts. Knives made him feel uneasy, even kitchen knives could be difficult to use. It all trailed back to the reason on why he'd moved to LA. A divorce was the cover-story, that he had decided to move with his mom instead of staying in Florida with his dad.
The truth, however, was that there was no longer a dad to stay with in Florida. His mom and dad had never been a perfect couple. He had often fallen asleep to them yelling at each other. However, during the daytime they seemed like a relatively happy couple. Clay had always been closer to his mom than his dad, but he didn't have any issues with his dad either. Unfortunately, as he grew older, the truth started to unravel.
One day he happened to find a locker in their garage that peaked his interest. Somehow, he managed to get it open. What he found was liquor, pill bottles and cash. He made a silent promise to never tell anyone what he'd found out. But after the discovery, pieces fell into place. The arguments, his dad's late-night businesses and his slightly reserved attitude against everyone.
It was a heavy secret to bare. Yet, it was nothing compared to sight of coming home from school to be faced with three men standing in a circle around his dad, Clay had hid as quickly as possible but continued to watch the situation unraveling in front of him. Everyone was yelling and Clay remember hearing his dad plead to the men that they'd spare his son and wife. After that everything seemed happen in slow motion. His dad spotted Clay staring from the opposite side of the house, his eyes were filled with regret and sorrow. Clay kept staring, unable to look away even as one the men pulled out a knife and without hesitation stabbed his dad right in the middle of his solar plexus.
Everything that happened afterwards was just a big blur. The men left quickly after; they'd been so occupied with the situation that none of them noticed the boy that was sat in a corner, trembling in fear. The shock had made Clay's memory very spotty and many parts where just blank. He had a vague memory that he ran towards his dad and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was all too late.
Clay continued to sit by his dad's side in some sort of trance until he his mom got home, that's when he passed out completely. The following days was nothing short of chaos. Investigations, interrogations and attempts of trying to identify the men was all happening at ones. The men was untraceable. His mom had finally admitted the situation, that Clay's dad was involved with bad people. The hidden locker started to make sense the more his mom told him.
Gambling, drugs and alcohol was apparently a big part of his, now diseased, dad's life. After month of investigations that only led to dead ends, the case closed. Therapy, night terrors and numbness was all that Clay felt like his life contained a long while after the incident. Two years went by and Clay got the news that he and his mom was moving, they would get new identities and supervision because the police deemed the situation too unpredictable. His mom was a broker in the beginning (before she spun out of control) and successfully landed a job in the new city and Clay transferred to a new school. The situation still haunted his memory, but he managed to build walls around the trauma and hid it deep within himself. As time went by, life got easier, although the frequent night terrors still haunted him.
Nowadays, it wasn't something that constantly interfered with his life, even though certain triggers could make everything reappear. Knives were an example of one of those triggers.
Clay snapped back to reality again. George sat beside him, the knife was gone but something made Clay want to see the knife again. Maybe I'm stronger now? He asked the british boy if he could see the knife. George gave him a confused glance before slowly reaching for the knife. Clay made eye contact with Nick, who seemed just as confused by Clay's request as Clay himself.
Nick was the only one, beside his mom, who knew most of the story. It had been more of a coincident that he told Nick. Nick had been kicked out of his house one night and Clay had offered that he could stay with him for a while until everything was sorted. Clay had however not taken in calculation that his nightmares would spark questions. He was able to hide his past for the most part during daytime, but that control disappeared at night. Nick had been persistent and Clay finally broke.
George flicked the knife open and Clay couldn't help but flinch. He could feel himself being analyzed by the dark-haired boy. The sight of the knife made him feel all sorts of emotions. He both felt the need to run as far away as possible. But the object also awoke a deep sort of rage. Clay viewed knives as one of the most intimate weapons. Sure, guns were bad and it would most likely suck getting shot. But stabbing someone with a knife required you to get extremely close to that individual, you would have to look them in the eyes, experience all their emotions and see how their life slowly withered away.
George British accent broke through his mental war. "Would you like to hold it?"
Would he? Panic bubbled in his subconscious. He hated the knife or more specific, he hated the power the stupid object held over him. His stubbornness won and he carefully took the knife into his own hands. As he closed his hand around the metal handle, he felt the skatepark slipping away and he was back in his house, seeing his dad laying in a pool of crimson liquid on the floor. He wanted to scream but remained mute. It felt like hours until a cool hand closed around his own and he was once again back at the park. George's left hand was wrapped around his own and his other was placed on Clay's shoulder, trying to shake him back to reality. Clay managed to mumble a silent apology.
Clay finally met George's gaze. "There's nothing to apologize for, life isn't always pretty and can leave quite ugly scars" The brunette said quietly. Clay studied George's face and found, to his surprise, that the usually so guarded, dark eyes expressed a type of understanding. He also noticed a faint bruising on the boy's cheekbone that he hadn't noticed before. The potential questions were however put on hold when George stood up and offered his hand to help the him stand up. Clay didn't hesitate for long; the new boy had definitely made quite an intriguing first impression. Nonetheless, Clay couldn't help but feel himself being drawn to the brit and he secretly hoped to get to know him better.