Chapter One-Hundred and Seventy-Four
John's hands flexed so tightly around Clarissa's fingers, that his knuckles were so white he looked as if he could be a ghost. "The one -the leader- he grabbed my face, and, he…" he swallowed hard, his breath coming shorter and shorter, "forced my mouth open, and shoved his dick into my throat." He forced his panic back, the memory fighting to take over. "I tried to, to, pull away… but he grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper. He was saying that I was his little faggot whore, and that if he could fuck me every day, he would…"
Clarissa listened to his breath speed up, able to see that he was fighting against his past and the mental effects left over from the trauma he'd endured. "John-"
"No." He met her eyes, and she was able to see how clear they were and that he wasn't completely pulled under by the memory yet. "You wanted to know. So, I'm telling you." He scratched a hand over his chest, his finger's catching on the key at his throat. "They started with lube, but… after a while… the lube was used up, so they started dry…" He glared at the floor, the pain returning for a moment before he shoved it back. "After that… I must've passed out from the pain. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital and Claire was with me." He heaved a huge breath, feeling an enormous weight lift from his shoulders.
Holly watched as Clarissa's muscles tensed, noticing how she almost seemed ready to catch or restrain John at any moment. "John, do you possibly suffer from flashbacks, or maybe reliving a traumatic event in your life through memories?"
Clarissa watched as the memory took him, able to see his eyes go blank. She instantly gripped him in her arms, making sure his hands were pinned tight against his chest as he screamed for release. "Johnathan." She spoke into his ear, shushing him as his back arched and he fought her. "Pumpkin, please, relax."
Holly took Clarissa's hands away from John's body, sitting next to him as he curled in on himself. "Johnny, It's Holly, we're sitting in my office with your foster mother Clarissa. You're safe." She spoke softly, showing Clarissa exactly how to help guide the boy out of this. "Can I touch your shoulder?" She asked, waiting for a response which didn't come. "I'm going to touch you, Sweetheart." She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, retreating when he flinched away.
"No!" He screamed, scrambling away from the women. "Hurts!"
Clarissa wiped a tear from her cheek, watching as Holly continued to try to pull him out of it. "Pumpkin. You're safe. They can't hurt you." She watched as Chance rushed to her master, noticing that the dog was doing exactly what her master needed.
John blinked, the panic in his eyes clearing. "Mom?" He looked up at Clarissa, rushing toward her and wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug. "I'm sorry."