This was an exceedingly hard chapter for me to write- arguably one of, if not the, hardest to date so far because of the content and that this story is a therapeutic exercise for me to do in order to get out and work through some of my own experiences from when I was younger/a child.
Please use this as a potential CW/TW as some descriptions of Greg's abuse are mentioned in this chapter.
To everyone, if anyone, still reading this story at this stage; thank you and I hope you're enjoying the story as much as possible.
HilsonForever96 xx

The following morning Rob came around and collected the three of them from the hotel shortly before lunch and took them back to their house that would be their new home for the next several weeks. Greg wasn't sure how mom or James were feeling; but he felt utterly and completely zombified after last night; he felt somewhere between hungover and the groggy, sick feeling that comes immediately following coming around from a general anaesthetic. He just followed them inside, leaving his bag at the doorway to the basement, and into the kitchen that Rob led him and James into, while Josie showed Blythe up to the room she'd be staying in. James and Greg both took note of the sound of a toddler's cartoon playing on the TV in the lounge room, but Rob and Josie had mentioned that they did get custody of Jennifer's two kids yesterday, which didn't bother either James nor Greg.

"Here, I'll fix you two up some lunch," Rob offered, as the pair sat down at the table.

"Don't worry about fixing me up anything, I'm not really hungry… I'm still full from breakfast," James smiled, putting on his best charm, "thank you though,"

Rob nodded, and again took note of the defeated look in Greg's eyes as he cut the hearty sandwich in half, "you're very quiet today, Greg," he observed as he took the plate over.

"Yeah, I didn't really get any sleep last night, just was one of those nights," Greg muttered, "thanks very much," as he took the plate. Josie and Blythe walked in then and while Blythe and Rob went to go and catch up and watch over the kids, Josie watched silently from the doorway where neither Greg nor James could see her; "pick a half James, and you're going to eat it," Greg told him.

"I'm not hungry, Greg, I told you, plus I can't eat that much," James mumbled, looking away.

Greg's voice dropped, "this isn't that much food, James, that's not even getting into the part where you didn't eat breakfast this morning either. I'm asking you to only eat half a serving. Pick a half, James, please,"

James shook his head and pushed the plate away, "I'm not hungry. I don't want to eat. I shouldn't be forced to eat, nor should I have to eat in front of you,"

"You know exactly why you have to eat in front of me, James," Greg whispered, "you've openly admitted it to me yourself the other day exactly why I need to watch you like a hawk. And believe me when I tell you that I will be doing this every single mealtime until I know that you're better. Please stop making this harder than it has to be. Just eat. Look, I'll eat with you, okay? It's only half a sandwich, James. Nothing bad is going to happen because of a half a sandwich, come on," Greg encouraged gently, and continued to kindly but firmly encourage James to eat; as he eventually picked up a half of the sandwich, and true to his word, Greg ate his fair share, as did James.

"See, no one died," Greg joked as he stood up to take the plate to the sink, "I'm proud of you, bubby. You did well," he added as he got back to the table, "I'm really tired though, let's go rest," to which James nodded. They walked through the lounge room where Blythe and Rob were sitting.

Rob beckoned them over, "come meet your niece and nephew," he encouraged, as he passed a toddler over to Greg, "this is little Charlie, she'll be two soon," Greg held on to the little girl, cooing over her little, dark features.

"She looks just like Jenny, doesn't she?" he smiled with a slight air of sadness in his voice.

Rob just nodded, "yeah, she really does. It's almost like a little time capsule, It's heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. Hopefully she leads a happier life than Jenny,"

"Hey there, little Charlie, you little princess. I'm your uncle Greg," he cooed over the little girl, before a young boy about four or five walked over shyly, "hey buddy, I'm uncle Greg, and this here is your uncle… James? Jimmy? Jamie?" Greg looked over at James who just shrugged, and Greg gave him an exasperated look.

"Uncle Jamie," James decided, shocked by how much this boy looked exactly how he pictured a child Greg to look; he was tall and thin, with loose, medium brown curls that flicked out just above his shoulders, big, inquisitive blue eyes, and with a handful of freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, he was positively and completely adorable; "and what's your name?" James asked the little boy.

"Tyson," he answered shyly.

"Well Tyson, what do you like to do?" Greg asked, and the boy shrugged.

"I like video games," he said eventually, "will you play with me?"

"Yeah? Well, we'll have to have a match later, I'll let you in on something," Greg indicated for Tyson to come over, "if you ever play Mario Kart with Uncle Jamie, just know that he cheats," Greg stage whispered and winked while Tyson laughed, "so, you've always got to keep an eye on him. But don't worry, because I'm the master, I'll teach you everything you need to know so that his secret cheats won't work on you, okay? We'll play a video game you choose later this afternoon, okay?" and Tyson nodded enthusiastically, "that's a good kid," Greg smiled back. "Do you want a hold?" Greg asked James, indicating for him to take Charlie off him, which James gracefully accepted.

"Uncle Greg, are you going to be staying at our house for a sleepover?" Tyson asked.

"Yeah, little guy, staying here for a little while until I get a new house," Greg smiled back.

"Okay, is Uncle Jamie staying here too?" Tyson continued, and Greg nodded, "okay well, you can both stay in my room, I've got a big bed that you can sleep in, there's room in there, and it'll be all good because I'm a good boy and I listen to what grown ups tell me and I always do the right thing, and then we can play in my room all night,"

James watched the colour wash out of Greg's face, and he took an involuntary step backwards, shaking so violently that James thought he might fall, James put little Charlie down on the ground and placed a pausing, grounding hand on Greg's shoulder. "Thanks Tyson, but Uncle Greg and I will be staying in the basement," James told Tyson, wrapping on a comforting smile.

"Aww, can I come and stay down there with you guys? I promise you that I'll be a good boy and do whatever you tell me because I'm a good boy, I just want to have fun with you two," Tyson took another step forward and placed his hands in a pleading pose, "please? I promise you I will always be good and do whatever you say, and the bed in the basement is super big, so I won't even need to bring anything to sleep on. Please? Pretty please?"

"No Tyson, you have to stay in your own room," James answered firmer this time, and Greg's hands started shaking so violently in panic that he dropped his cane that came to the floor in a crash, James quickly swept it up. "Greg, you can't have a panic attack here, let's go down to the basement," James whispered, and he led Greg away. Tyson went to follow, but James turned around and held his hand out to indicate to Tyson to stop and go back, which he did.

James led Greg as quickly as he could down to the basement, where he ended up dropping his cane down the stairs while in a panicked state and James just about had to carry him down the rest of the stairs and over to the bed which was the only place that James could lay Greg down in his near, at least physically, catatonic state. James set him leaning up against the back of the bedhead and laid down next to him, leaning his head back against the wooden headboard.

"He's a cute kid," James remarked, "you know what he was saying means, don't you? It means that he almost certainly hasn't been interfered with. Greg, you're a doctor too, you know as well as I do that none of the behaviour he was showing was indicative of a kid who has been raped and molested. If he had been, then he would have behaved differently. You would have behaved differently at his age in that same scenario, wouldn't you?" to which Greg just nodded numbly. "He just seems like a normal kid. An innocent kid. You see this sort of thing everywhere because that was your normal growing up, and that's perfectly natural that you're worried for him and want to protect him from the things you went through. But Greg, you aren't your dad, or Henry, or any of the other sickos that they traded you too. You're a good man who would never cause harm to a child in any capacity," James held Greg to his chest as he broke down, hard.

"I… I was younger than him," Greg gasped out in between sobs, "I was so… so little. I don't… I don't know how anyone could have done that to me, I remember… I remember everything… but I don't think… think that… that I realised… just how… how little I was," and then James heard the most heartbreaking wail again. The wail not of 45-year-old Greg, but of four or five-year-old Greg, not understanding what was happening, or why; "why… why didn't… anyone… c-care?" he hiccupped on the last word, "why wasn't… wasn't I worth… sa-saving?"

James just sat there in silence, trying to comprehend why everyone ignored it for so long; finally he had to give the only answer he could think of; "I don't know baby, I don't know," James ran his fingers on his loose hand through Greg's hair, soothingly massaging his scalp, "you were surrounded by monsters who saw an innocent little boy and took full advantage of that. It wasn't your fault, none of it was your fault at all; you didn't pick the family that you were born in. John and Henry have a lot to answer for,"

"They ruined my fucking life! I hate them! I fucking hate them!" Greg cried out in between violent sobbing, "fucking bitches! Why? Why didn't anyone care about little Greg? Why didn't anyone rescue me?"

James held Greg onto his chest and rested his chin on top of Greg's head, "I hate them too, baby. I hate them too. I don't know why nobody tried to help. It was disgusting what they did to you. I wish that I could go back and rescue you; I'd bring you home, I'd look after you the way that a child should be looked after, I'd hold you when you cried or got angry, I'd love you the way that a child should only be loved. Unfortunately, I can't," as Greg sobbed louder into James' chest with his arms wrapped around James; "but what I can do is take care of big Greg and be there for little Greg when he comes around. How does that sound?" James whispered.

"I feel dirty. Who fucks their own child? I don't know why daddy did that to me so many times. Who has sex with their kid? What kind of messed up love is that? To 'make love' to your little boy?" Greg sobbed.

"It wasn't 'making love', Greg. It wasn't even 'having sex'. That's what we do, we have sex, and we make love; because we are adults who both want it, and we both say yes, every single time. Maybe he told you those things because he knew what he was doing was wrong. It was rape. Every single time they or anyone else did that to you growing up it was rape, okay?" James whispered, holding back his own tears from dripping onto the top of Greg's head.

"Daddy tied me down when he had friends come over. It hurt so badly; I cried so much but no one else heard. They even seemed to get hornier from hearing me cry in pain… they'd get hard again faster and fuck me even harder, it hurt my insides and my butt even more, and they'd squeeze my testicles or pull on my penis sometimes too. If they paid more then, I had to give them a blow job, or if they paid daddy enough, he'd film it for them to take home and give them complete full reign to do to me whatever they liked, even if multiple people were involved. Daddy used to watch them do their things to me sometimes… he'd tell me what a 'good boy' I was being while he touched himself watching me get raped over and over again until he would have a turn too, he'd wipe my face of the tears I cried and rub it on his cock. These 'parties' happened for twelve whole years at least twice a week… there was usually at least five of them there… a lot of the regulars were at the party in South Dakota, I just didn't want to tell you because it would make you more stressed than you already were," Greg sniffled, "they always said that mommy didn't care. It seems like they were right,"

James just looked up towards the ceiling as he felt his tears fall down as he held onto Greg as tightly as possible, crying helplessly for the little boy inside of the ruined, destroyed grown man sobbing in his lap.