Friday

"Get in the house, you little shit!"

Adam's gone. Monte was turning onto their street as they crossed the sidewalk. Tommy had given Adam a quick kiss and a reassuring hug that everything really was okay. And as he watched them speed off down the street, he felt his heart plummeting. And he's feeling his heart plummeting more and more (with his stomach) as he nears his house. His feet shuffle through the almost dead grass and his guitar feels heavy against his back. He keeps his head low as he climbs the steps, cringing and groaning as Richard runs his meaty fingers through Tommy's hair, gripping and pulling sharply on it.

He doesn't fight while being dragged into the house. He doesn't fight when his dad throws him to the floor. But he's put into a different world of perspective when he looks up and see his mother sprawled and unconscious by the table. His heart lurches to his throat and he tries to scramble forward, the neck of his guitar banging on the wood as he crawls to her. But Richard grabs his ankle and holds him back. Whimpering, he's pulled away from his mother.

"Where do you think you're going, eh?" Tommy can smell the alcohol as his guitar is ripped off his back and chucked across the room. He hears it shatter before he sees it, and he wants to cry. Allison, his music… What more can his dad take from him now?

"That's right— nowhere." He's flipped over onto his back, just in time for Richard to slam his booted foot into Tommy's gut. The breath slammed out of him, he coughs hard and rough, wheezing. His head is spinning as Richard kneels down, his fingers grabbing Tommy by the throat.

"You lied to me, you little fuck. Told me you were gonna be at school. So, why'd you leave your shit here?" Tommy thinks about his backpack, and he wants to put his head through a wall. He had a bad feeling that he'd forgotten something. He should have known. Fuck, he should have known!

Richard's fingers trail over a bite mark, and Tommy shivers, his eyes widening. Oh no. No, no, no, no! Tommy watches as his dad's eyes cloud over for a moment, before shifting back to his face. There's a look that chills Tommy's core and makes him want to curl away and just die. Fingers tighten around his throat and Tommy's lifted off of the ground by his neck, his face inches from his father's rancid breath and angry aura.

"You someone's bitch, Thomas?" He's shaking and not wanting to look his father in the eye. He can't. He's afraid that his eyes will reveal everything. Richard snarls and drops him to the floor. His back hits first and he curls into a slight ball, cringing and groaning. He glances over at Allison, seeing her chest rising and falling so shakily. Today is just the day from hell, isn't it?

"You're someone else's bitch!" One, two, three— five? Seven, eleven? He loses count of the kicks as they come over and over, making him cough and choke on air. No, he's not anyone's bitch. He's someone's baby, yes, but he's not going to say that, now is he?

"No!" Tommy coughs, covering his stomach with his arm. His dad kicks him in the wrist, and he feels a pop, before he screams. Fire shoots through his hand and up his arm, throbbing with excruciating intensity that springs tears in his eyes. He cradles his arm against his chest, turning away as best he can from his dad. But he knows it doesn't matter. Everything is hurting and now he's put Adam in danger.

'Adam… No…'

"Who is it, fuckwad? Who's got you bending backward?" He's not going to say. He refuses to say. He's not going to put Adam into this. He's… He can't. Tommy just can't do that. It's bad enough that Adam's suspicious of his home life, and now his dad knows there's someone else involved. Richard grabs his cradled arm and pulls it free, slamming it down on the floor. He presses the ball of his boot into Tommy's wrist, and the blond screams again. "Who?"

'Don't say it, don't say it. Don't say Adam's name.' He thinks to himself, breathing heavily through his nose, his jaw clenched tightly. He closes his eyes, keeping his breathing as even as— his dad is adding pressure to his wrist and he unlocks his jaw, screaming a little louder than he was before. Fuck, his throat is aching and burning just a bit. What a way to end the perfect morning slash early afternoon. Awesome.

"Who, Thomas?" Richard's voice is so low and calm. The wash of alcoholic breath makes him want to vomit, but he chokes back his gag. Richard's hand whips across his face, the rigid knuckles hitting the top of his cheek bone, just below his right eye. Tommy bites down on his tongue, coughing and growling as the boot's pressed into his wrist further. Richard hits him again, and he tastes blood. He's not sure if he's bitten his tongue or scratched his lip. He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing his tongue. He can't say, he can't say— but fuck, his wrist is killing him…

"A—" he finds himself slipping.

"Richard, stop it!" Allison says weakly. Clamping his jaw shut again, Tommy glances over at her. When did she wake up? Maybe she was never out to begin with? He's not sure. But she's sitting up, leaning against the couch. Her shoulders are bruised and her lip is cut lightly. Tommy's eyes soften at the sight of her. She's beat up, but it's nothing compared to the things that have happened earlier this week.

His dad's foot lifts off of his wrist and Tommy gasps, cradling his arm into his chest again and he starts to slowly crawl away. Richard's not paying any attention to him. He watches as Richard grabs her by her hair and pulls her to her feet, slapping her in the face. His teeth grind and he swings his leg at his father's ankle, his shoes colliding with the part of his leg that isn't covered by his boot. Richard stumbles slightly.

"Stop hurting her!" Tommy screams, kicking his dad again. Richard turns and grabs an empty bottle from the table, leaning down and smashing it against Tommy's shoulder, the shards scraping him through his shirt. He squeezes his eyes shut and chokes on a scream as pieces cut into the skin of his collar bones and his face.

"Shut up, bitch." His dad snarls, using the top half of the bottle and cutting Tommy's thigh. It's not deep, but it still hurts. But now he realizes he's got to get out of here, even for a little while But he doesn't want to leave Allison. However, he can't stay. His heart is pounding in his chest as he scoots himself farther away, slow and steady though. He looks away when he hears Richard's hand hits her face. He can't watch. He pulls himself to his feet, breathing lightly as he stumbles to the door. He looks back, seeing his mother's eyes through the wall that is his father. 'Go.' She's telling him. He mouths an 'I'm sorry' to her, turning the knob and pulling the door open. He jumps through the opening, running across the lawn and ignoring the pains he's feeling. Richard's screaming at him to come back, but he's not listening. He's running full on to get away.

'I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry…' He thinks to himself, hauling ass down the street. It's a good thing he's in as great of shape as he is. He can run and run and not give a damn about how long it's going to take or how far he has to go. He needs to go, he needs to go far. Maybe he'll come back when things have calmed down.

'Are you kidding? The moment you set foot back into that house is the moment you die, Thomas. Things aren't going to calm down.' He pushes himself, keeping a fast and steady pace as he runs down the street, passing the empty field and heading towards… wherever. He just needs to get away. Somewhere safe, somewhere that's familiar but strange all the same. Somewhere where he's not afraid that he's going to wake up to screams or someone beating on his already breaking figure.

'You're running away and you're leaving Allison in danger.' He begins to breathe through his mouth, his heart pounding in his chest as the world passes him by. He's not really paying any attention to where he's going. He can't worry about where he's at yet, because he's not far enough. But then again, he's not sure how far is far enough. Maybe when he passes out he'll know.

'Your own mother, Thomas. You're always so bent on keeping her safe. And ever since you met Adam, you've cared less and less about that ambition. You're all about keeping Adam safe and unaware of your problems at home.' He's panting a little harder now, sweat pooling in his hair and sliding down his face. Fuck, it's hot out here today. And it's only four— five something, right? He's not really caring about the time right now though. He's trying to get the thoughts of what might be happening to his mother out of his head right now.

'What if he's killing her? What if he's beating her with a broken bottle?' Tommy stumbles on a small rock and goes down on his hands and knees, skidding a little bit. He chokes as the pavement scratches his palms and tears open his jeans a little bit. Pain flares up his entire arm from his wrist and he growls, clenching his jaw. Ow. He breathes heavily, sweat sliding off his face and dripping onto the ground. His heart is beating heavily in his chest and he's shaking from head to toe.

'What if he's forcing himself upon her again?' No, he can't think about that. That… That day was a day from hell. He doesn't… no.

He pushes himself up onto his feet again, pumping his arms at his sides as he takes off running steadily, the wind blowing in his face and throwing his hair around his head. His clothes are sticking to him, but he doesn't really care right now. He's got to get farther away. He stares straight ahead, the blood in his mouth bitter, and when he reaches up to wipe his face, his lips sting. Yeah. He scratched his lips. Awesome.

Grimacing, he slows to an easy walk, his hands on the back of his head as he breathes deeply through his nose, closing his eyes as he walks. His head is spinning and his heart is making him want to collapse and pass out. It's too fast. There's too much going on in his mind and he wants to stop and cry. His mother could be dying. He's run away from home. He's in love with Adam. But his mother could be dying. Fucking hell.

He's crossing a street, uncaring that it's technically jay-walking considering the light's red, but oh well. If he gets hit, so be it. 'No… Allison needs you. Adam needs you, don't think like that.' But really… If he were to die, with the exception of Adam and his mother, no one would care or notice. And then he would be at peace. He'd be safe… 'But think of Adam and your mother. They need you. They love you. They care about you.'

Adam. God. He sighs, dropping his arms and opening his eyes, staring at his feet. He's almost across the street. Where's he gonna go now?

"Tommy?" He stops, turning his head towards the source, the angel. Adam's standing by the open passenger door of a car, Monte's at the wheel. The ginger's eyes are wide, concerned before flashing fear at the sight of Tommy's bruised and bloodied face. The blond looks down at the ground, drained and emotionless. Footsteps come to him and Adam's hands lift his face up, and he's looking up into his baby's eyes.

"Baby—" Adam pulls him into an embrace, and he feels tears brushing against his skin. Adam's… crying? Why is his baby crying?

"Adam?" Tommy mutters weakly, his voice cracking. Adam pulls away and takes Tommy's hands, watching with a fearful gaze as Tommy hisses at his wrist. The ginger guides him to the car, and they slid into the backseats as Monte reaches over and pulls the passenger door shut.

"Baby— baby, what… who did… Tommy…" Adam can't finish a sentence as Tommy curls up into Adam's arms, tears rolling down his face.

'Your mother could be dying and you're running off with Adam. Dad's right. You're nothing but his little bitch.' He chokes, cradling his injured wrist as he closes his eyes.

'I'm not his bitch. I love him.'