Untold
Chapter 44 - I'm With You Part XIV
Summary: None
A/N: Is that how you write fourteen in Roman numerals? I can't remember...anyway, I really hate this chapter. It just feels so aimless and stupid and blehhhhhhhh I hate it.
Also, I'm feeling really down and stupid, so I was wondering - do my stories have any merit? Like, are any of them legitimately good?
When Hiccup awoke again, it wasn't like last time. Last time was calm yet confused as he struggled to understand what was going on. This time he sat bolt upright, eyes darting frantically around, and he let loose a high, terrified scream, clutching at the blanket. The thin red material rippled slightly under his frantic fingers.
"Hiccup!" I jumped up suddenly, releasing his good hand. I found myself doing less and less work these days when I came home at night; I spent most evenings sitting by the fire now, watching him sleep. "Hiccup, what's wrong, are you hurt?"
He stared up at me with frightened green eyes, his good hand slowly reaching up, clutching at my shirt. "Don't let him h-hurt me."
I thought he might have woken from a nightmare, so I began to gently brush his hair back from his head, my heart aching for him.
He buried his face in my chest, sobbing like a child, his shoulders shaking.
My arms instantly encased him, and I sank to my knees beside the bed. "Oh, Hiccup…what's wron—?"
"H-he's always hurting m-me." he sobbed and then he began crying even harder, his words becoming less audible as his voice grew thick. "I-I didn't know what to d-do, because he's my f-father and I d-didn't know he'd react so b-badly…I'm his s-son, he's my f-father, fathers don't l-lock their sons up…" and then he dissolved into fresh tears, his sobs growing louder.
My embrace became a rigid thing as his words reached my ears. "I'm his s-son, he's my f-father, fathers don't l-lock their sons up…"
I didn't think I could hate Alvin the Treacherous anymore than I already did. I found myself wishing he had miraculously survived that debacle in the cell, just so I could kill him again. I only realized how hard I was gripping Hiccup when he pulled away with a few soft whimpers. "You're h-hurting me."
When his sleeve fell back, I saw bright red finger marks and I felt a hot flash of shame. Had I done that?
He sniffed, wiped his nose and looked down at his bad hand. He studied the bandage, tracing his pinkie finger along the white gauze and fell silent for a long time. I worried maybe he was quietly mourning the loss of his hand and so I put my hand over his, opening my mouth to speak.
"I don't even r-remember what it feels like to not be h-healing." he whispered brokenly. "I'm always h-healing from whatever he d-did to me. Th-there's always dr-dried blood or…or bandages or s-salve or him tr-trying to get me to eat and drink again after n-not letting me for days…"
"It's okay." I whispered back, wanting to hold him close again, but I was scared and didn't dare touch him. All I could see in my mind's eye were the finger marks on his arm. "He's never coming near you again."
"And I d-don't know how to d-do anything anymore b-because everything I do just ends in another b-beating or a wh-whipping or…or he t-ties me up again and d-doesn't let me eat or sleep…" Tears spilled over again and he drew his knees up to his chest, sobbing freely. "And I d-don't know how much longer I can t-take it, he's a-always h-hurting Toothless and…and t-telling me I'm n-not his son and…" he buried his head in his knees, his shoulders beginning to shake again from the effort of his crying.
"Hiccup." I gently slid an arm around his shoulders, not trusting myself with anything but this slight contact. "You're safe, alright? You're safe and he's never gonna hurt you again."
"That's a lie!" he snapped, lifting his head out of his knees and glaring at me. His face was blotchy, and he looked furious. "You can't lie to me! He's always hurting me!"
"He can't anymore," I whispered. My heart ached with how badly I wanted his pain to vanish. "I promise. He'll never touch you again, never harm another hair on your head."
"Pr-promises don't mean anything," he sobbed. "People n-never keep them."
"I will." I began stroking his hair again, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. But Hiccup needed me too much for me to cry. "I'll always keep my promises to you."
The moonlight illuminated Hiccup's freckled face, shining with tears. His green eyes were filled with so much pain. "I d-don't want him to hurt me anymore." His tiny arms suddenly found my waist and he tugged himself forward, hugging me tightly. "I'm t-tired of him hurting me."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that," I whispered, kneeling down to his level. I gently ran my fingers through his hair again. "I'm right here and I'm never letting him get to you again."
Hiccup buried his face in my chest again, his shoulders beginning to shake once more.
"I promise you, you're safe here," I whispered. "He's never hurting you again. He's never putting his hands on you again."
"I'm scared." he whimpered.
"I know." The hole in my heart throbbed for him. "And I'm so sorry with what you had to go through, but I promise you, you're safe."
He stayed very still in my arms for a long while and I didn't move him. I just kept stroking his hair gently, letting him cry it out if he needed to. "I'm so sorry with what he put you through." Was he even still awake? It didn't matter. He needed to hear this either way. "But I promise you that I'm here now. I'll keep you safe. I love you."
I felt his breathing beginning to slow, the rapid, shallow breaths he had been taking for the past ten minutes gradually easing. His breathing was now slow and even and he went completely limp in my arms. I slowly lifted him up, holding him gently, staring at him, holding him as if he was breakable. And he was. The finger marks were still frighteningly visible, even in the moonlight. I hugged him closer to me and a few tears spilled from my own eyes. "I'm here for you," I whispered, my one hand going back to his hair, beginning to gently run my fingers through it.
He took a slow, even breath, pressing his cheek against my chest, turning his ear close to me, as if he wanted to hear my heartbeat. And I stared down into his freckled face, feeling so much pain tug at my heart for him, feeling as if giving him all the love I had in my heart still wouldn't be enough for him. He needed so much assurance that he was safe, he needed somebody to hold him while he cried, he needed somebody to hold his hand sometimes, and what if I couldn't be there? What if I hurt him? What if I made a mistake again, like cutting 'traitor' into his arm? What if…what if…no. I couldn't think of it. I couldn't ever imagine myself hurting this boy, no matter how many times I had.
I studied his face again, remembering him pleading with me not to hurt him. My eyes filled with more tears. I didn't ever, ever want to hurt him. If anybody ever tried to hurt him again, I would hurt them. I hugged him closer, gripping so tightly I worried I might leave another bruise, but I'd finally found him, after sixteen years of searching. I'd found him broken and guarded, I'd found him running scared. But the important thing was that I'd found him, and damn it, I was not letting him go.
