Warning: this chapter will have some depictions of abuse. If this could upset you, please avoid reading this chapter.
-

His fingers are frozen, white and trembling. He tries to reach up to his face, wanting to cover his eyes, one of which is swollen and turning purple, but he is too much pain, he can hardly move.

The air feels heavy around him, almost like he is underwater, allowing the water to enter his lungs. He would take drowning over this any day. He takes a breath in, and his lungs burn.

He retreats further into the corner, wanting to disappear. If he could just curl into himself tighter... Maybe he could just dissipate into thin air.

He could only hope.

He hears a snap, a belt against the doorway. He flinches, despite trying to stay still. Was she still at it? Wasn't the first round enough?

Footsteps sound like thunder around him, sounding almost as if they are moving in slow motion. Each time a foot smashes against the ground, Peter wishes even harder that he could just float away.

A foot comes down right in front of him, the sound deafening. Peter wants to shut his eyes, but his eye is getting puffier by the second, making it nearly impossible to close it comfortably. He forces himself to look her in the eyes, his gaze empty, pitiful, and very broken. More broken than any nine year olds gaze should ever be.

The woman- Peter refuses to refer to her as his mother- leans down slowly, bending at the waist, her face only inches from Peter's. Peter can see the tip of the gnarled belt swishing against the wooden floor, but he tries to ignore it.

The woman's breath is hot and thick as it reaches Peter's nose, and the scent of alcohol is lingering heavily. It's a smell Peter has grown up with.

She stands up straight again, glaring down at Peter with a steely gaze. A smirk tugs at her mouth, her lips curling unpleasantly, partially revealing stained, crooked teeth.

Peter doesn't have time to cover himself before he feels the hot stinging of the belt against his arms. The world starts to go blurry, his vision fogging up more and more with each burning hit. He feels the belt tip reach his chest, and eventually his neck. He feels one hit against his face, hot blood welling on his lip.

After that, the world is black.

•

Peter is suspended in air. He's floating, his mind empty of everything. He can no longer feel the welts on his chest and arms, or taste the sticky, metallic blood on his lip.

Has he finally done it? Disappeared? Did his wish come true? His wish to be free from her?

He thinks so, until the whiteness around him ebbs away, turning into to a dark room illuminated by glaring red and blue lights, and many beams of blinding white light. Peter blinks, finding that he is in the corner, but she is gone. He tries to turn his head, but he feels the open wounds once again. The pain comes back slowly at first, but then it hits him like a ton of bricks. Peter can't hold back the yelp of pain. He falls to the side, his body curled up, his hands grappling at his pounding head.

One of the beams of white light floods into the room, and multiple sets of footsteps follow. Peter winces, he tries to will himself to curl up even tighter, but he can't.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and the wish to disappear comes flooding back. She's back. She's back to hurt him...

Peter can't struggle when two large hands scoop him up. The hands do not belong to her, but Peter does not trust them. They could be bringing him back to that woman...

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, despite the pain that shoots through his right eye. He feels the familiar tug of the too-thick air, and the feeling of water entering his lungs. He coughs, wanting it all to go away. He wills the water to swallow him up, to pull him under.

And the world goes dark once more.

...

Peter snaps awake with a gasp.

Just like that day four years ago, Peter can feel the burning sensation in his lungs. He looks around quickly, desperately searching for any form of safety. He sees Berwald right beside him, sleeping soundly on his back. Peter crawls closer, gripping Berwald's shirt tightly, his face pressed into the side of his chest.

His tears are nearly silent, but they are heavy, flowing quickly and relentlessly. Peter's breathing is ragged, and despite his attempts to be quiet, Berwald stirs.

He is dazed at first, wondering what the sound is, but as soon as he sees Peter clinging to his shirt, his paternal instincts kick in.

He slowly gathers Peter into his arms, siting up slowly and allowing Peter to curl up in his lap, his back against the metal headboard of the cot. He holds Peter almost like a baby, Peter's back resting in the crook of one elbow.

For a while, Berwald let's Peter cry, allowing him to relax himself a bit on his own. When the choked back sobs die down, Berwald tilts Peter's head slowly to meet his eyes. Peter's blue eyes stand out even in the dark, little beads of salty tears in the corners.

"Peter, sweetheart, what's wrong...? Did you have another nightmare?"

Peter nods.

"She... She..." He can't force out anything else.

Berwald understands anyway.

"Peter, she won't hurt you anymore, okay? Tino and I refuse to allow her near you."

Peter can't respond, his breath is tangled in his throat. Berwald strokes his hair.

A few minutes tick by, and Peter raises his head once again, looking at Berwald gently.

"Papa?"

"Hmm? What is it, Peter?"

"How can you stand me?"

Berwald's eyebrows furrow immediately, shocked by the sudden question.

"Peter what are you talking about...?"

"How can you and Tino... How can you put up with me? You didn't have to adopt the child with the most difficult past, and you really didn't have to keep him... I just don't understand how you could care for me this long when all I do is put you through bad things like this..."

Berwald feels his heart tightening in his chest. Has Peter always felt this way...?

"Peter... We don't just 'put up' with you. We love you. We love you so much, Peter, so, so much..." Berwald says, his voice a bit shaky. "We adopted you because we knew you needed someone who would love you, and we wanted to give you that. We wanted to give you everything you deserved in life... Because you hadn't gotten it before."

"But all I've done is cause trouble... You guys could be relaxing at home if it weren't for me, and you wouldn't have a black eye, and you-"

"Peter, listen to me. You're right, if we didn't have you, we would be home, but we wouldn't be relaxing, we'd be restless and upset. We would want a child to care for, somebody that we could love, and we have that with you. You're our world, Peter, do you understand that? We love you... We'd do anything for you."

Peter falls silent for a moment. "I just... Don't think I'm worth the trouble."

"You may not think so, but we do. We love every moment of having you around, even if we are on borrowed cots in a police station. As long as we have you, it doesn't matter what is happening, or what's going wrong. We have you, and that will always be enough for us."

"I'm not used to this..." Peter murmurs.

"Used to what?"

"Kindness... Being loved..."

Berwald can find no words to respond. The most he can do is rest the top of his head against Peter's, pulling him closer and rubbing his back with a calloused hand. Peter leans into him, slowly being lulled back to sleep by Berwald's gentle breathing and soft rocking.

It's more than enough for the both of them.

A/N: I know, it's been a few weeks and it's still a somewhat short chapter. I'm sorry!

I'm getting back into the rhythm of writing this, however, so hopefully the next chapter will come out soon (I still need to complete the outlines for that chapter, though, so we'll see! I already know what I want to do, it's just a matter of writing it down in a chronological list.)

Also, future chapters won't have any more real depictions of abuse. It will be mentioned, of course, but that one scene is the only one I ever had intentions of describing.

Anyway, despite this being short, I hope you liked it.

Thanks!

-KayDubs