Henry Wong was depressed. Now that Terriermon was gone, he went back to being the quiet person he was. He was lonely, and sad. His little sister hadn't been as affected as him, because she was younger. "Scanning him" The words repeated in his head. Terriermon hadn't been scanned. He had the Juggernaut effect loaded into him. And his dad had uploaded it. Henry knew what his father was trying to do. But him doing it still hurt. IF only he would have told them the Digimon would have had to go back, they would have had time to say farewell. But they didn't. Henry pushed himself further into the corner. He liked corners. Nothing could take you by surprise when you were in one. They would hold you up with two arms. He had covered up his loneliness. He would draw pictures of Lopmon and Terriermon. He would say he was fine. He wasn't sad. He wasn't lonely. He was lying. He was sad, was lonely, wasn't fine. He felt guilty. One word bounced on his mind. One, five letter word, that would make it all go away. All of it.
He had been starving himself, but not that much. No one was home. Now was his chance. His father was at work. Slowly walking into the kitchen, the blue-haired boy grabbed a knife. His gray eyes pierced his skin, like the knife would. He dragged the blade across his skin, leaving red to flow out. Cutting his left arm in a cross hair pattern, there was a mark on top, on bottom, on the left, and on the right. It wasn't very deep, but there was a lot of blood. Continuing to his right arm, he did the same thing. Henry knew he had people to live for, but he didn't want to live. Nicking his neck a few times, he had slumped into a corner. He heard a door move, but his vision was going black. The crimson was spreading like a virus. The last thing he saw was a familiar face rushing towards him, the last thing he felt was himself being pulled into a tight embrace and lifted off the ground, heard a shouting voice, and all was black.
The 12 year old woke up, in a hospital bed. He had bandages wrapped around his arms. He moaned as he tried to get up and felt something restraining him. Falling back down, he tried to lift his legs. Restrained there too. Henry moved around until he saw his right arm. The blanket was slightly off, enough for him to see he was strapped to the bed, with the strap around his wrist. Immediately knowing this what was what had happened to him, he didn't need to guess how many there were. The boy tugged until the strap came loose from his right wrist. Easing it out, Wong had freed one arm. The clattering of footsteps. He quickly shoved his wrist back into the strap. The cream colored room... The grayish door opened. "Henry! You're awake!" Janyu had rushed to his son, his voice filling with happiness. He kneeled by the bed. His right hand gently touched his son's right cheek. His left hand fell into the boys hair. *cough* He tried. Henry tried to conceal the cough, but it was scratching at his throat. Janyu's hand fell from his son's hair to his throat. Rubbing his hand over Henry's throat, Janyu realized his son still hurt. "Son... Why did you cut yourself?" "I-I wanted it to end" "What to end?" "The guilt" This slammed through Janyu's head so quickly, it could have knocked him over. *The guilt of not being able to keep Terriermon here* "I don't want to feel guilty anymore" "Son... I know one way you won't fell guilty.." Janyu had gently ruffled the restrained boys hair... And then patted his own knee...
My eyes widened in shock. I knew I would feel way less guilty... But still. Well, it was heart breaking pain, or temporary pain. "O-Okay dad. Please do it. Make it hurt." I just said that!? More words, this time from dad's mouth. "Okay. I will." I said more. C-Can you untie me?" I watched as my father undid the straps, one by one. The last one came off my left leg, just above my foot. "Alright then. Henry... Over my knees. My body obediently crawled over the knees. My brown pants were pulled down. The hand lifted- and came down onto my boxers. It didn't hurt that much- not yet. As my dad continued the spanking, I counted the swats. 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. My cheeks had a small sting in them. A single tear had slipped down my left eye. My father had gotten harder about it. I countinued counting. By the time I reached 38, several tears had slid down. Fingers hooked into the waistband of my boxers and tugged them down. The slaps got harder. 54. Tears were falling in broken streams from my face. My magenta bottom stung badly. "Son... I know it already hurts... But I'm not done." "What!?" He sighed. "You've had this coming Henry... And I don't want you to hurt yourself." I could only make noises to protest. He spoke again. "Let's end this quickly Henry." His belt slid from the loops. "No.. Please don't belt me on-" "Bare bottom." He cut me off. "Stay still" The belt had lifted up. CRACK. "Aihh!" I vocally displayed my pain. 55, 56, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60. Audibly cracking against my sore bottom, the belt always hurt. And I always managed to forget how much. My dad continued to belt my wriggling, sore, red bottom. 77. My bottom was a deep red color. 79. My fathers hand lifted up so quickly, the belt had broke the sound barrier. CRACKKKKKK! I yelped. I couldn't help it. 80 swats. I was sobbing uncontrollably, and tears were rushing from my face. I was lifted up into a pair of arms. 'Shh. It's alright. I'm right here. It's over son." My eyes were sealed shut. I didn't want to open them. I wanted to cry. And that's what I was doing. I felt my clothing being reapplied. I hissed when they touched the red spot. Being swayed back and forth, it took about ten minutes for me to be able to talk. "T-thank you dad." "It was for your safety and happiness. I would have done it anyway." I let out a yawn. That was enough. I was scooped off the bed and quickly carried out of the hospital to the car. Everything went black, and then I was back in the tight embrace. My family was already sleeping. I was in my own room. I had fallen asleep in my fathers arms. And he fell asleep right next to me.