It's always started like this. With a tense moment of silence. I wring my hands together, proud that I manage to only shake a little. I want to look, to calculate my chances of making it to the door, but his labored breathing keeps me in my place. What did I do to deserve this?

My eyes bore holes into the walls and I count. One. Two. Three.

I move slowly, meeting his heated stare. Oh. This is worse.

He is smiling. This is never good. Nothing like a real smile, when I do what he asks, this is taunting. He is taunting me.

I am supposed to feel at home here, welcomed. Or at least that's what Mr. Crabblesnitch said he wanted me to feel. But in this dim room, scarce of almost all signs of life, I think he lied.

"You really know how to make a guy feel special, don't you Petey?" He stands now. He walks in leisurely circles around me, like he's got all day. And he might. Concepts like "attending school" don't really apply to him. Gary makes his own set of rules.

"I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." I say with little to no tremble in my voice. I know our parts well, the privacy of our dorm room the stage. This isn't the first or the last time and though my words feel stale in my mouth, the terror in my heart remains fresh.

He chuckles darkly and this is when I realize I should have remained silent. "And do you think I'll mean it when I break your fingers?"

And there goes the normal script, ripped to pieces at our feet. That's not what he says. No, he's supposed to call me "Femme Boy" or some other insult to my small stature, and punch me in the gut, still sore from the last time.

Gary is not supposed to look like he's actually considering his words. Small, unsure sounds escape my lips. I blink at the floor.

"I can't fucking hear you, Peter."

Too quickly to be real he is at my side, looming over my head. I can feel the heat from his body seaping through my dress shirt and I'm certain that I am going to burn.

I sputter. "Y-yes."

"Do you want to say I should be institutionalized again, Peter?"

He's moved behind me now, his breath like fire in my ear.

"No."

"Give me your hands, Petey."

For a moment I almost let another refusal slip past my mouth and then I realize that I would rather a few broken fingers than no pulse. I lift my hands from their place at my sides and suddenly they are stone and the world is in stop motion. I leave my hands hanging uselessly in the air, shutting my eyes tightly. I don't want to have this image burned behind my eyelids.

"Please, do it quick."

I can hear him shifting and the sound nearly makes me shout out. "Good boys get to make requests, Petey. Do you know what bad boys get? Do you?" He prompts.

"Nothing." I breathe.

"That's exactly right. You get nothing."

And to my dread, that is what I receive. I don't know how much time passes with no physical pain to give me a sense of time. I can't count the seconds in heavy blows if none come my way. Instead I feel the barest of touchest against my face.

I linger in the feeling before I open my eyes, returning to the sight of a nightmare. He's standing very close to me now and if he comes any closer then my hands will be caught between our chests. I am no longer certain how he plans to hurt me.

His fingers leave my cheek. "You think I should be institutionalized?"

I hold back a whimper.

"You're right." And suddenly the heat leaves those dark eyes, and it is quickly replaced by pain.

Oh. That's how.

"Gar-" A sharp punch hits me square in the ribs, another to the stomach and my words fall helplessly to the floor, followed shortly by my body.

And that.

"You just stay down there and think about what you've done wrong, Petey."

I wheeze as he prods me with his boot, pushing me onto my back. I can feel his glare rolling over my convulsing torso. Collar fully buttoned, khakis slightly too long, and yet I feel utterly exposed under the scruitiny of the older boy.

My head lolls to the side, but his shoe nudges my cheek to face him once more.

"I want you to listen closely. Really listen. Hello?" Gary crouches by my limp form and snaps in my face until my gaze reconnects with his own. "Earth to Petey?"

His fingers reach to continue their path along my skin. "There we go. You listening? Good boy."

Suddenly his face is within an inch of my own and I can't think, this breath intermingled with mine, every freckle and scar stealing my view. There is a silence, and I am lost in the nebulae of his eyes. There is something serene here, and I want to stay.

"Disrespect me again and I will beat you within an inch of your life."

And then he is gone, leaving me on my dorm floor, aching, terrified, and very confused.