No one's POV
Vision blurred and head pounding, Simon pulled himself into a seated position. Wincing a couple times, he held a hand to one of the multiple sources of his pain, his growing migraine. Glancing around quickly, he could barely make out the shape of his glasses lying in a grey puddle to his left. The young boy grabbed the blue blur and set in comfortably on his nose, yet somehow that didn't even feel okay. A raw pain in his thighs started to set in as he became more and more conscious. An awful churning sensation hit his stomach as memories came swirling back leaving him moving to all fours so he wouldn't vomit on himself. Nearly emptying his stomach only inches from where he knew he'd be sitting in a matter of seconds, tears welled quickly into the little boy's eyes from the pain, both physical and emotional. Simon, certain that he was done puking, carefully sat back on his bottom and scooted towards the wall wanting to lean against it. There was no way he could get up yet, let alone walk. He was in so much pain that he doubted he could even be able to call for help.
Surveying his surroundings, slowly as to not to disturb his headache anymore than necessary, Simon noticed the wall he was leaning on wasn't a wall at all. He had propped himself up against a dumpster in a completely deserted alley. Clearing his eyes of the tears that were still forming, he tried to push himself to his feet. His arms were shaking so violently that he couldn't calm them and his legs weren't doing any better. He couldn't get himself up any farther than a squatted position, so he opted to easing himself back down. Another raw pain, this time in his bottom, left the chipmunk's stomach churning again. Trying as he might, he couldn't stop the few whimpers he let out. Violently rubbing his face, Simon groaned, determined not to cry. Looking down at himself, he noticed he was still in his costume. Not only had he been donned in Halloween attire, he was obviously stained in blood, amongst other things.
...
"You lost the bet, you have to wear it. A deal's a deal," holding up a nurse's costume, a skirt for the bottoms, Alvin pointed his finger at his slightly younger brother. "You knew what you were signing up for."
"Yeah, but did you have to be so cliché?" Grabbing the costume from his brother, Simon stomped towards the bathroom. He planned to avoid making bets with Alvin in the future, but then again, when had that stopped either of them before?
...
Running his hands over his bruised thighs slightly, left Simon wincing in discomfort. His main thought was just wondering where his brother could be right now. He wanted to blame him so badly, but he knew he couldn't blame anyone for this. It wasn't really anyone's fault. Except the two responsible.
...
"You said we were going to Derek's Halloween party," Simon pointed out. Alvin had been dragging him by his hand towards the flashing lights and muffled sounds of mentioned party, yet once they reached it, Alvin had shaken his head.
"Not big enough. Gotta show you off to more people. Someone will love to see you like this, I know it."
...
Someone had enjoyed Simon's costume, two people in fact. Too much. Trying once again to stand, Simon finally pulled himself to his feet. It felt like he'd never walk properly again as he wobbled and stumbled from one foot to the other. He only got a couple steps before falling back to his knees, hands in a puddle of some unknown liquid. Pushing himself up onto just his knees, the exasperated boy wiped his hands off on his torn skirt. He only just now noticed his underwear was completely missing. Ignoring the scrapes in his knees, Simon successfully pulled himself up once again. Stumbling, he made it out of the alley and looked both ways down the sidewalk he had emerged on. Not a single person was walking, or even driving for that matter.
...
"Pull his legs apart for me – perfect, would you stop fighting? This is gonna happen whether you want it to or not," Simon had never caught either man's name, but their faces would be glued to his memories for the rest of his life. The larger of the two had set Simon in his lap and gripped the boy's thighs tight enough to leave deep purple bruises apparent just so he could hold his legs apart for the other man of whom was standing over the frightened kid.
"Why would you wear a skirt so short if you weren't looking for attention?" Licking his hostage's cheek and adjusting his hold on Simon's already damaged thighs, the bigger man nodded at his partner.
"This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker for you if you keep fighting, so I suggest you relax yourself," Simon fought back even harder, only wearing himself out more, as his captor grabbed his hips. Simon's cheeks were already tear stained and his throat was burning from trying to yell for help. No one had heard him though, as no one had yet come to his rescue. The boy's vision blurred as he was painfully forced into. He hadn't even felt the larger man kissing his neck, he was only focused on the searing pain in his bottom. Though his throat was sore, he still found himself trying to choke out sobs and pleas.
...
Block after block, Simon silently congratulated himself. He didn't really recognize his surroundings, but he was covering a lot of ground for the considerable about of pain he found himself in. He was hoping that every building coming into view was a police station, or any official building would do. He'd be excited to even see a grocery store. Building after building just seemed to be apartments. He had already had his fair share of dealing with strangers and didn't want to chance anymore abuse.
Sidewalk traffic had begun to pick up slightly as he moved along. People would glance at him, yet no one stopped to ask if he was okay. He didn't expect them to. He was traipsing around the unknown areas of Los Angeles. On top of that he was a teenage boy stumbling around, wearing a skirt, and covered in blood. He was more of an eye sore to the passerby than really a concern. Finally, he came across a police station, and told them where he lived.
Walking through the doors to his house was more of a relief than he had ever experienced. Closing the door behind himself, Simon made his way straight to his and his brothers' shared bedroom. Peeking his head inside he found the room to be empty and walked to the closet. The relieved teen grabbed clothes and made a beeline for the bathroom.
Just as Simon emerged from the bathroom, hair still dripping wet, though now donned in his blue button up pajamas, the boy heard the front door open and slam shut.
"Simon! Are you here?" The mentioned munk rolled his eyes and made his way down the stairs. He found the voice had come from Alvin, who ran over to him and hugged him, arms thrown over Simon's shoulders. The rest of their family pushed the door open, and came in to see the sight. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"
"Nothing," Simon smiled down at his worried brother, "I'm fine." No need to make him feel guilty.