Eventually, she quit her thoughts and gave a final glance to the three boy's huddled on the couch. Yet one particular glance towards John and Gil, leaning against each other in the shadow of the sofa.

Trigger Warnings: Detailed abuse, disturbing scenes.

Chapter 8- Look a Little Closer

(Alex's POV)

The darkness was heavy and pressing. Aching and burning. Every time I sucked in a breath I thought the pain was over. Of course stupid me thought that. I should have learned by now.

Repeated hits to every inch of my flesh, devouring every sense I could think of.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't speak.

"Don't resist, Ali! Don't fucking resist!"

I couldn't speak. Only scream out my agony through tears and sweat… even blood.

I couldn't locate where exactly, But it was there. Hot, thick, metallic liquid cascading down my skin. Shrills from my voice box ricocheted around my skull- muddled- but still there.

Soon without warning it was snapped off abruptly. It took me a moment to realise the sudden stop of my voice.

Was it me? Or had he finally given in?

Half of both things were true. It was him and me. But he hadn't given up in the slightest.

Fingers wrapping like cobras around my neck with razor- like fangs burying through my fresh. Stars began to swell around my vision as I too started to claw pathetically at his hands. Rivers of tears tumbled like marbles down my cheeks only adding slight blur to his venomous grin ebbing in the middle.

In that moment, I thought that was it. That I would soon see a bright light curling in the gloom somewhere around me. But there was no light. No voice or dust trail guiding me away from this place. The darkness just kept coming and coming and running its course through my veins. I hadn't tasted oxygen in so long that once I came crashing to the floor with the vice relinquishing from my airways, it burned to take it in. My lungs were on fire with gasps and splutters saturating in through more places than could think of.

He was hissing, spitting my name through his teeth.

Don't resist… Don't resist Ali… Don't fucking resist…

That was all he ever seemed to say. To him, it was a greeting, "Hello there. How are you? I couldn't care less but here's a hit to show you my 'love'."

I could only squint through my eyes and lay my head against the icy tiles. I couldn't move. It was physically impossible. So when he stooped down to grab a fist full of my hair, I dangled limp by the strands. With careless force, he dragged me to shove me against the wall near the stove. I could hear the water sweltering… the steam beginning to exaggerate inside the room.

He was going to burn me.

My thoughts went spiralling off the tracks, completely demolishing into a world of terror inside me. Even though I lay limper than a sodden scarf, the way the panic spread like wildfire in the pit of my stomach should have been enough to shake me up and think of a way out. But I was too exhausted to show anything. Even when he began to unwind the belt from his waist I had already succumbed to the pain.

"Thrash.

Thrash.

Thrash."

I could already hear way the air whipped by it. Already feel the leather skate along my black and blue skin.

But it never came.

My eyes opened wider when I heard the belt drop to the floor with a small 'clink'.

He stepped closer… closer some more… Until he was literally straddling my lap.

The zip to his trousers began to glide down and same with the buttons until they fell completely off.

No. Hit me. Burn me. But not this. Not this.

"Now, now Ali. You know you want to you shit. Don't resist."

Through my hair his grimy fingers laced and scored.

No. No. No.

The alcohol in his breath intoxicated my mouth as he shoved down onto it, wrapping our tongues together as I tried to push him away. He removed his hands from my hair and dragged me up the wall, still keeping our faces pressed together. His eyes were closed whereas mine were wide, open and tearing up in fright. His grasp was razored and pressing down my quaking body. His hands began to slide down further down me hovering over a place no one was meant to be.

No. No. No.

"No." I gasped away from his mouth.

I don't know why I did it. But the fact was that I did it. As scrawny and as battered as my muscles were, I shoved him away with all the strength I could muster until he plummeted down onto the stove. The smell of boiling water and frying flesh rained through the air. He howled with a piercing screech to my ears yet I shot up with many a stumble in my step. You could see the raw, redness of his skin blistering over within seconds.

He was angrier than the burns gushing down his torso. His eyes were set alight with hell's fire.

So I ran.

However, it was more of a stagger. I sped as fast as the agony would allow me towards the kitchen door. Instantly, my fingers fumbled for the keys as I heard him struggle from the floor.

Come on! Come on!

I had never thought the click of a door unlocking could hold such a relief to me. I never gave myself a chance to relish in the fresh air before I bolted with no sense of balance towards the lose fence panel. My hands grasped for the splintered wood and also screamed out once they were pierced with the wood fragments.

In daylight, the ally didn't seem too long. Our house was the farthest in yet, at that point felt like miles. My own limbs were beginning to shut down and stumble helplessly in front of my path. Many, many times I thumped to the floor letting glass, rust and gravel migrating into my kneecaps. Thick blood oozed out by the sharp tears amid my flesh.

Blood, tears and a light, drizzling rain drooling down my face. Droplet after droplet after droplet. It was an infinite source pooling all over my figure.

With a heavy wave of pain surging through me, I straightened up to cup a lose brick in my palm and pried my body back up.

Air flooding like a pump in and out of my lungs scorching my airways with each rapid breath.

Just keep moving.

I couldn't obey as much as I prayed. I had to stay statue-still leaning on this crumbling wall. There was no calm. Just- stillness with in me.

And suddenly I stumbled again, over something that looked a lot to me like a curb…

Wait. Curb… Path… Road…

The fear hit me like a truck, physically knocking me off my feet, just before a painfully bright light screeched through me.

The grunt of wheels…

The painful throb in my chest…

Bright lights destroying me from the outside…

And the world went black.

OwO

(3rd Person)

Martha was so engrossed with her work that once her phone vibrated with a call next to her, she might have missed it. Originally, she thought it would have been George ringing for some unbeknown reason. So she just answered the caller with not much of a second thought.

"Hello? Is this Martha Washington speaking?" A middle-aged woman spoke from the other line. Instantly this shutdown Martha's calm replacing it with utter confusion.

"Yes-" Martha took the phone from her ears to see who this stranger was… She looked.

Oh.

"Hello? Miss?" The woman spoke from the line.

"Yes, yes. Sorry about that." Martha shot up a little too hastily before carrying herself to the office upstairs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Gil pull out a puzzled look, but he almost instantly looked back towards the TV.

"That's absolutely fine Mrs. Washington. My name is Jessica Whitman, Alexander Hamilton's social worker."

"Ah yes, we met the other day?" Martha sat down on the office chair, creating small, spun circles with the chair wheels.

"That's correct." Jessica was slightly hesitant with her words.

"Is Alexander okay?" Martha couldn't help but let her mothering instincts blurt. But to make matters worse, Jessica paused. Martha gulped.

"That's why I'm calling."

"O-oh."

"You see, last night, there was an… incident with his foster father. It resulted in him having to stay overnight in a hospital."

Martha had to lean back for a moment. She knew that he was in a bad place at the moment but had no clue how bad.

"I-is he okay?" She just managed to stutter.

"He's stable and from what I know, will be released tonight."

Martha knew what she was trying to say.

"So… So are you- do you need us to take him in tonight?"

Pause.

"Yes. But it's completely fine if you want to still wait until Friday. I know it's only Wednesday so if you can't take him, I'm sure we can put him in a temporary care home."

"No. We'll still take him." There was exactly no thought into her answer with not even an afterthought. As soon as Whitman had mentioned "care home", her mind was made up. Gil had talked to her about the care home he had to go to.

"Crowded. Noisy. Distressing.", was how he described it.

"But I was lucky really." He had mentioned, "There are many worse than that."

"That sound great!" Jessica sighed in relief (probably because Martha had just saved her another hour of work), "I'm at that hospital now so would we be able to drop him off at around eight? I think we could make it there by then."

"Yes. That's perfectly fine."

Was it? She couldn't think rationally.

Jessica continued with some irrelevant information before shutting off the call with a final goodbye.

Silence.

Martha let her feet swing absently between the table legs as if each kick would somehow bring her back to reality. It did bring some sort of realism, however one she wished to shake.

Firstly, she had mountains of work for tomorrow, being in court. Secondly, (despite how much she should had done it yesterday) Alexander's room still had to be made up. George was at work both today and tomorrow plus John was still off from school.

The weekend would have been better. She thought. But it wasn't. The universe had changed the time so she could care for Alexander. This was meant to happen for a reason.

Martha clipped away from her thoughts and back to her phone. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it properly.

OwO

Lafayette stayed motionless, cooped into the corner of the sofa even while the credits rolled.

"Now do you get it?" Herc chuckled, launching across a pillow to the French teen.

"Wow. I haven't watched that film since I was like, eight!" John attempted to bat away the misdirected cushion.

"But don't you still watch 'Up'?" Laf teased.

"And cry every time you watch it?" Herc raised an eyebrow.

"Hey!" John barked, sending his posture a serious stance, "Don't diss Up."

After a moment of silence, laughs began to stifle from the boys' lips and soon erupted.

"You're such a child!" Herc poked him on the forehead.

"Yeah? Well, you're a real jerk!"

Herc could taste the fun retort on his tongue although once Martha burst back down the stairs, he swallowed it away.

"Maman? Tu d'accord?"

Martha turned to her son, slightly frazzled and frantic.

"Yes but…" Her mouth opened to say something but she snapped it closed again, running a hand through her hair.

"Maman?"

"I… Gil I…" She sighed closing her eyes lightly, "Alexander he… he had an incident last night and had to stay the night in hospital. His social walker just called me and explained the situation." She took in a firm breath, "I agreed with her that he could arrive tonight."

Lafayette wanted to speak but couldn't quite find the words. John was dazzled too and gazing towards Herc for a reaction. For all he knew, Herc didn't have a clue about Alexander. However, he showed no prodding look resulting in John concluding that Laf had already told him.

"I- er- I think it'd be best if I left…" Herc picked himself up from the sofa feeling extremely awkward in the circumstance and the sudden drop into silence.

To Laf, Herc's departure was just a distant background action. His mind was already encasing him far too deep in worry and concern. He didn't know Alexander, but the fact that his reoccurring family history with disappearing people really shot back some shock over him. The way he would imagine his brothers paled, limp arms sent more than chills over him every time.

But he didn't know Alexander! Though he supposed it was because over the day, the thought of a brother seemed to grow on him. However, he still didn't know Alexander! Although… he still cared… Especially once it dawned on him how Martha hadn't mentioned what had happened to him. He gulped.

Martha took a seat down on the sofa opposite to the two.

"I've called George," She entwined her own fingers like a hinge, "He's going to try and get off work as soon as he can but today's going to be busy. I've still got work tomorrow and we need to clean house and make up the spare room…" By that point, John and Lafayette began to wonder if what Martha said was meant for them to hear, or just a spoken thought for herself.

"Well, John and I can start on Alexander's room." Lafayette had stood up giving an eyeing look towards John to also take the hint.

"I can't thank you enough!"

Gil just smiled modestly and sprung up the staircase.

As John reached the top of the stairs, Laf was already pulling out bedding from a cupboard on the landing. The boy wondered over finding amusement in Lafayette's confusion trying to find the last matching pillowcase. John just gathered all the bedding and moved into the spare room. Alexander's room.

"Ah ha!" He had heard Laf gasp from just outside of the door, waving around the missing cover. Laf bounded up next to him, batting the sheet on John's head.

Within the minute, John was left alone to make the bed whereas Laf started on dusting and organising the dresser and desk.

Martha popped up five minutes later to supply bathroom products (shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream, razors, etc…). John took on that job once he'd finished the bed, making sure everything was neat and carefully placed (he was an artist after all).

Yes, this all sounded productive, but once those two- being the teens they were- couldn't resist to play about a little bit, mainly to act as a distraction from what was really happening in their life.

As much as Gil denied it, he started it (but if you did know him, that would hold no surprise) by throwing the pillows off the bed while John was sorting out the bathroom. However, once he exited, instantly spotting the mess, a small smile played at his lips, trotting over to the desk in the corner, 'accidently' knocking over a pot of pens. Lafayette, from the edge of his vision, gave a lopsided smirk while clearing up the mess, etching closer to John stood next to him.

Without any warning, he lunged for John's waist tickling him mercilessly. John began to cease into fits of laughter, they come up from his lungs in attacks, racking his entire body as he playfully kicked to get away. The two began stumbling backwards with John's cramps of laughter, Lafayette fell. They both came crashing down, Gil falling over the top of John.

They both couldn't help but gaze.

Lafayette's eyes twinkled with the reflection of the sun's stark white light oozing through the window. His heart beat like that butterfly he was used to, thrashing to be released from the cage it was restrained in. His lips yearned for a heat, he had to bite the inside of his cheek as a kerb.

John however only felt a pain, jabbing multiple daggers into his core. The agony of desire, but knowing the ripest apple is just too out of reach. Instead of a butterfly, it was a mediaeval mace smashing against his ribs. Cyanide coursing through his veins. How much he wanted to look at the other boy's lips but was terrified for what would happen if he did. So just stared into his eyes instead, bathing deep in his colours.

Lafayette was waiting for some reaction, something to latch onto to provide him the courage to feel those soft lips. But it never came. If anything, John looked awkward gazing backup at him. Were all the signs he read before nothing? Was he mislead my his own damn feelings? Did John even feel the same way? Obviously not.

God, how John wanted to snatch Laf down onto him! Hold him in his arms for eternality and never let go. But he couldn't… To John, Lafayette just looked awkward above him. He knew the feelings Lafayette showed must have only been platonic. Nothing except a deep friendship. He waited, waited for a lead to something else. But it never came. Of course Laf didn't feel the same way.

Why would he?

It that moment, it was silent to the other but deafening in their own ears, a heart cracking. The other didn't feel the other way, right? What was the point?

Little did they know, if they'd just looked a bit closer, things would have changed for them both.

Lafayette flipped off John a little too hastily, the latter sitting up and having his eyes darting around the room trying to finding something to focus on. It was pointless.

John heard Lafayette mumble something beneath his breath but it never caught on.

They both carried on organising the room with no words spoken.

If only they looked a little closer…

Authors Note:This was going to be longer but I wanted to get this out today! Arrghhh! School starts again tomorrow -_- Save me.

Also, if you do plan to leave a review (which I pray you do) what did you think of the abuse scene? Took me about a week to write that!

Anyway, stay alive annnddd…

Please leave a review! Haven't really got that many recently x

-L.E-Rae _x_