Quick disclaimer: this has a trigger warning. In order to not spoil the chapter for those who aren't worried about getting triggered, please scroll down to the end of the chapter to learn what the trigger warning is. Please don't test this. If you have any trigger warnings please just scroll down to make sure.
Liam's POV
As much as I had hoped to say that we had a pretty relaxing time at the lake, it couldn't be farther from the truth.
On the outside Jax looked completely fine and decently happy but I could tell there were undertones of something else. When ever he thought I wasn't paying attention he let his mask fall for a split second before putting it back up and in those moments I could see all that he was hiding behind a stone walled face.
Anxiety showed the most, as if he were afraid we were going to get caught at any moment and get dragged back to our cabin at any given time to be punished, but every now and then I could pick more than just anxiety.
It was never for longer than a second but fear was evident. Not just fear though, it felt like there was something else to it. Almost as if it was more like utter terror but I couldn't figure out why.
Of course there were plenty of reasons why he could be terrified. News on his father, a memory, anxiety pushing scary thought into his head, anticipation for his session later today. There were so many options that I couldn't narrow it down to just one thing.
But whatever the reason after I picked up on the fear I decided he had enough for today and said that we should probably head back for the day. When he heard me say that I could practically see the weight being lifted off his shoulders.
The whole way back to the cabin Jax was all but running full speed even though he didn't entirely know where to go. There were a few times when I had to correct him on where we were supposed to be going but the second I got the direction out of my mouth he was right back to running.
Eventually we got back to the cabin and the first place Jax went was to the bathroom. I thought it was kind of weird but brushed it off as him needing to use the bathroom really bad.
Unfortunately, that was half an hour ago.
At some point the shower turned on but that wasn't what worried me. When I started dating Callum, he told me the best ways to help take care of Ryder in the future was to know what happening before he got to this camp. He told me Ryder wanted to tell me himself but he didn't think he could so he let Callum do it instead.
Apparently back when Ryder first came here, back when he was still in his depressed, trance like state, he use to take showers like this.
He would come back from somewhere and immediately rush to the shower. At first Callum always thought it was just a regular shower. After about 15 minutes he assumed Ryder was just doing teenage boy things. But after about 30 to 40 minutes he started to get worried and just opened the door to check on him.
Callum told me he found the same thing every time it happened.
Ryder sitting under the showerhead, naked as the day he was born, a blank expression written all over his face, and a body completely ridged.
When he tired to help Ryder out of the tub or just help him snap out of the daze he was in he would only end up making it worse, instantly sending him into a panic that could last upwards to an hour but after that he would pass out for the rest of the day and most of the night. The next morning he would say he didn't even remember coming to the cabin that night.
For a while I start to wonder if what happened to Ryder is now happening to Jax. Every now and then I would head to the bathroom door ready to barge in and make sure he was okay but before I even got my hand on the door a voice in the back of my head reminded me that this wasn't Ryder. It was Jax. And just because this happened to Ryder didn't mean it was going to happen to Jax.
Every time I was about to do something that voice told me over and over again 'this isn't Ryder, give him a few more minutes'.
After a few more minutes, closer to the 45 minute mark, the bathroom door finally opened and a breath of fresh air filled my lungs only to be taken from me a few seconds later.
Jax stood in the doorway shirtless with only a towel covering his waist. My eyes couldn't help but wander to his chest as he walked to his dresser. The first thing I noticed was the tattoo of the black heart Ryder told me about and while I really liked tattoos my attention didn't stay on it for very long.
Pale scars littered his body. Some were big others you could barely see. Some of them are almost completely faded. Most looked like they would always be there to remind him how they got there.
Only one question remained.
Where did they come from?
Jax's POV
I don't what it was; the lack of sleep, or the setting, maybe the fact that this whole fucking camp was starting to drive me crazy but when we left the cave it was like something in my mind just flipped.
Before I even made it to the bathroom I was already locked deep inside my own head.
I knew it was coming after only a few minutes of being in the cave with Liam but I didn't want to just leave him so I tried to fight it off.
Every now and then a picture- a memory-would flash in my mind and before I could stop it I would flinch just for a moment but after a while I think Liam noticed and decided it was best for us to head back.
I knew when I stood up I wasn't going to be able to fight much longer and my best chance was finding a room to lock myself in until it was over and that place just happened to be the bathroom in our cabin.
I had the door locked before Liam even got in the cabin.
To my surprise he didn't say or do anything to make sure I was okay. From what I could tell he just walked over to his bed and lay down to relax. I on the other hand stood ridged in the bathroom, not really knowing what to do anymore.
I'm not even sure what my body did after that, but what my mind did was much more terrifying.
I didn't lose a fight often; it was just something that didn't happen.
But when it did the aftermath was hell.
There was one night when I lost a three-month winning streak. The day before my father hurt my back pretty bad so that night I was already at a disadvantage.
I made it all the way to my last fight of the night before the other guy decided to play dirty and took a cheap shot my knee. I went down and he kicked my back, which made me see stars for a minute. The next thing I knew he was on top of me punching the living shit out of my face.
I blacked out and the next time I woke up I had a splitting headache and I wasn't under a bridge.
My father stood there in the corner of my dark room. His silhouette stood out in he darkness as he watched me slowly get out of the bed.
I went to open my mouth to apologize for losing when he stopped me before I was even allowed to start.
His words were crisp and clear and left no room for debate.
"Come here."
He didn't move and I couldn't see his face but his voice told me everything I needed to hear. He tried to sound calm but his voice shook with anger.
I knew better than to just stand there looking stupid so I got off the bed, walked to my father, turned around, and kneeled down.
I didn't lose often but the few times I did the punishment was always the same.
I knew the first time I was punished this way it would be imprinted in my head forever, also knew that was his goal all along and it had a tendency to work. I learned the first time that I would rather give the other guy hell if it meant I didn't have to feel like that again later.
"Take off your shirt," his next words were. His voice was less calm now, he was thinking about how I would have to start my streak all over again. About how my fights would cost less money to watch for a while until I built my status back up.
I did what I was told without question, letting my shirt fall the floor.
The cold air wrapped around me like a blanket, which I welcomed for a split second, until I heard the tell tale sound of a belt being unbuckled and taken off. That sound alone was enough to make my blood run cold.
Without another word the belt slid through the air without hesitation.
The pain wasn't real anymore, I knew that. I had enough of these flashbacks to know the pain didn't exist.
But in the moment, the real moment, the pain was blinding.
I wanted to scream. I wanted cry. I wanted to run into the closest dark corner just to get away from him, but I stayed. I didn't make a sound. I didn't move and inch. I knew it would only make it worse in the end.
So I kneeled there and I took everything he gave me.
After a few hits I could feel my blood dripping down my back and onto the floor. If I didn't pass out from pain or blood loss he would go back to the corner and watch me clean it up until you couldn't even tell it happened.
In the end I took about 20 hits and was able to stay awake the whole time. I wished I would have just pasted out so I could save myself the embarrassment of having my father watch as I cleaned my blood of the carpet while trying not to get any more on it.
When it was clean he said nothing as he left the room and went to his room, leaving me kneeling with blood drying on my back. After an hour I decided to chance it and got into the shower and just let the water glide down my back, hoping it would be enough to get the blood without making it worse.
When I turned off the shower, ready to continue the flashback, I was switched back to reality.
I stood under the cold flow of the shower. My clothes were piled up in the corner of the room. And I had no idea how long I had been here.
Trigger warning: physical child abuse, i.e hitting. If this triggers you I'll summarize what happened.
All that happened was Jax got hit by his dad. That's it. Nothing else happened.
Here's a question to all of you: how would you feel about a spin off story for Boyd\ Kyle and Kellan? Follow up question, would you like it before or after I finish this story? And lastly, I already plan on making a prequel for Ryder, Liamm, and Callum to explain their backstories. Would you also want me to finish this first or go ahead and start the prequel? Let me know so I can start doing what you guys want me to do.