Prompt 48: Nightmare
It had happened so many times now that Wilbur had stopped counting. Stopped worrying about it, stopped caring. He knew there wasn't much he could do to stop but, so why bother?
It wasn't every night. Just every once in a while, not regular, but consistent. And tonight just happened to be one of those.
4:42am the clock on his phone told him. He was a little later than usual, but not by much. It was worth it to be able to stay warm and comfortable underneath Lewis' comforter for an extra ten minutes.
And now to stealthily make his way back to his bedroom and go back to sleep before his parents arose at five.
"Wilbur."
He stopped, his heart sinking as it always did when that voice called to him from the pitch-blackness of the garage. He turned slowly and attempted to wipe his face clean of any emotion. And there he was, standing not ten feet away, clad in only his pajama bottoms, horridly familiar crystal blue eyes staring at him.
"Hi Dad."
No other words were ever spoken during this meeting. Cornelius proceeded to walk straight up to his son and capture his mouth with his own, a large hand holding Wilbur's chin firmly in place.
It was hard for Wilbur to keep silent as his father drew him closer, forcibly deepening the kiss. His hands ghosted downward and all around. Up and under his shirt they went, right to that spot on the small of his back that only Lewis knew about. The teenager let out an involuntary moan, inwardly hating himself. He could never stay quiet for too long, and his vocal responses only drove Cornelius further. As his hands drifted lower and lower, his mouth followed suit.
Wilbur gazed past Cornelius' ear. He always chose a spot on the wall and kept his eyes glued to it. He always tried like hell to put his mind elsewhere. It helped sometimes. Most of the time he was back in Lewis' room, safe and warm. Back with the Lewis that he loved.
But as always, a certain touch in a certain spot always brought him painfully back. The sensation shot through him, he let out a stifled gasp, and he was back in the dark garage once more.
The older man's touch quickly became more rhythmic and Wilbur hated himself for succumbing to it. He hated that he doubled over, hated his hands for grabbing onto his father's shoulders, hated his sharp breaths. The only thing he could possibly be glad for was that when he finally tensed in horrible release, he drew blood from Cornelius' shoulders as his fingernails drove further and further in with each shudder.
It was the only thing he could do back.
But Cornelius wasted no time in pushing his son down on his back onto the cold floor. Wilbur kept his eyes focused on the ceiling, high, high above him. He felt heavy hands on the waist of his pants, unfastening them and pulling them hastily down. Down, down. Then those same hands on his knees, coaxing them apart, Wilbur being unable to do anything but oblige.
Some movement, some adjusting, and finally,
the pain.
And then he was awake. His eyes snapped open, and he flung himself forward, his mind far away from where he was. His heart wouldn't steady, and his fingers clung as tight as they could to the bed sheets underneath him. It wasn't until he heard a small mumbling from right beside him that he could finally calm down a little.
Glancing down to his right, Lewis slept soundly. The sight itself made Wilbur feel better. The younger boy's hair was tousled against his pillow and his mouth was slightly open, still emitting words that he couldn't quite understand. For a few minutes, Wilbur just stared down at him, relishing the knowledge that he was here, with him, and not…
Wilbur shook his head. Got back down underneath the covers and snuggled closer to Lewis. It took only a moment before Lewis' presence made him feel safe again.