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Martyn was tired.
He, Sausage, and Ren had made their way to a town not far from Oakhurst.
They had been travelling for nine days.
Nine days.
In that time, they had grown closer.
Begun to trust each other.
Love each other.
So the trip was less lengthy with them around; Ren was the one who made sure they didn't get hurt (most of the time).
Martyn and Sausage messed around.
It was a good arrangement, despite the creepy woods and the cold nights.
And now they were going to rest in a real town, in real beds.
Exhaustion claimed him as they arrived; Ren picked him up, as if he were no lighter than a kitten.
"Conked out, arent'cha, laddie?"
He managed a shut-up in response, though he went limp in Ren's arms.
Sausage poked at his cheek gently.
"Aww, look at him. So sleepy."
They reached a cabin of some description; it was warm and quiet, with wooden floorboards and organised rooms.
The beds were plush, with mattresses, cotton sheets and pillows.
"Beds." Sausage said faintly. "BEDS."
"Don't get too excited, M," Martyn said, cracking one eye open.
"But they're real beds! Actual beds! ¡Menos mal!"
Ren pushed the three beds together, placing Martyn down on it.
Sausage lay down beside him; he could just barely see her in the darkness.
Ren lay down on his other side, an arm around his waist.
They fell asleep that way, blankets over the top of them.
+
The next day came with a cool breeze, clouds hovering in the sky.
The town was small, Martyn knew that much; they'd managed to walk around the whole thing twice.
That was after Sausage had insisted on making breakfast, which wasn't half bad.
But something was off.
Like eyes constantly being on him.
He wondered why, until he turned around.
Ice blue eyes, a shade darker than his (but unmistakably similar), met his own.
A man, much taller than him, probably in his early 50s, stood over him.
And he knew exactly who that was.
Before Martyn could even speak, a hand was tight around his collar, dragging him away from the edges of the town.
He screamed for Sausage and Ren.
He screamed for him to let him go.
Martyn's pleas went ignored.
He shoved Martyn onto the side of a rock after that.
"You're so clever, thinking you can leave. You are my son, after all."
Martyn wanted to spit in his face.
He was not his son, not anymore, not ever.
As soon as he'd been ditched in Oakhurst, he swore he'd never return to his father that man.
"I wanted to leave. You just gave me an opportunity," Martyn replied evenly.
"Sure, you were. But now you're coming home with me," he chuckled, "and you're not going to leave."
"Yeah? What if I do?" He snapped.
"I will make sure you live to regret it."
Martyn's stomach dropped; his blood went cold, body numbing.
Helplessness gripped him like a vice; it felt like he'd been hollowed out.
He couldn't go back there.
He didn't want to go back; he never wanted to go back.
Not to the screaming he heard through the walls as a six-year-old, not to the bruises that covered his legs, not to being lonely.
A sob rose to his throat, but he choked it back down.
Ren and Sausage-oh, no.
He'd left them behind; they probably thought he was gone.
Martyn could imagine them tearing their hair out looking for him, and when he didn't come back, they'd think he had left.
He felt as if someone had kicked him in the heart.
+
Ren came back to Sausage in a panic.
"I can't find Martyn anywhere," he blurted. "We were walking around town, and-and now he's gone."
"Are you sure? Maybe he went to-"
"No, Sausage. You know how he is."
The two of them decided something in that moment, grabbing an axe each and heading down the winding paths into the woods.
They were going to find him.
+
Martyn was restless.
He couldn't leave, and that made it worse.
He could feel his father's eyes on him.
Was there anywhere he could run?
Technically, yes; he knew the way back to town, but he also knew that the man was stronger than him.
One stupid idea came to him.
He stood up, legs prickling with pins and needles.
"Where are you going?" His father's voice cut through the silence.
"Nature calls," Martyn replied, ducking behind a tree.
"Don't be long."
He waited for a few seconds before bolting.
He crashed through bushes and branches, a few sharp ones catching on his skin.
But Martyn didn't care; he needed to get back to Sausage and Ren.
Footsteps crashed behind him; his father had caught on, obviously.
Fear coursed through his veins.
He could very well die in those woods, struck down by either a fall or a shove.
But then, he saw them.
"Ren!" He screamed, voice hoarse. "Sausage!"
They didn't notice at first, not until Martyn fell over a tree root and onto his knees, scraping them like he was a child again.
They ran towards him as he screamed for them again.
"Ren! Sausage! Please," he sobbed.
Ren crouched down beside him, grasping his hand in his own; Sausage kneeled behind him, rubbing his back.
"Please, please, he's chasing me, he's going to hurt me."
"Who's chasing you? Martyn, what's going on? Tell me."
"My father, he-he found me-"
He gasped for breath, tears streaming down his face.
"Is that him?" Sausage said, pointing at a man standing not far from them.
Oh, fuck, he was coming closer.
"Yes," Martyn replied. "Yes, yes, it is."
He couldn't help his trembling as he raised his hand, practically standing over him once again.
Then there was a god-awful crack.
Ren had struck him across the face, his own twisted with anger.
"Don't you ever touch him again!" He snapped.
And he struck him again, and again, and again.
Martyn glanced up at Sausage, whose eyes were blown wide.
He gripped onto her shirt, finding Ren equal parts terrifying and hot.
"And if you ever touch either of my husbands again, but especially Martyn-"
-husbands!-
"-I will not hesitate to break every bone in your spine."
He stood up, still trembling with anger, and went over to his partners.
"Martyn? Any last words to this bastard?"
Martyn glanced at his father; he was scowling, blood dribbling from his face.
He moved forward and stepped (hard) on his father's legs.
"I hope you rot in hell," he hissed.
Martyn's hands found Sausage's and Ren's, and they exited the woods, leaving the darkness behind.
+
Once they got home, Ren started to apologise.
"I'm so sorry you had to see me like that," he sighed, lying beside Martyn.
"No, it's okay. You were actually pretty hot."
Ren laughed weakly at that; Sausage was still sitting on the edge of the bed, eerily quiet.
"Sausage? M? Are you okay?" Martyn asked.
Instead of answering, he wrapped her arms around Martyn from behind, resting her head on his.
Tears welled in her eyes.
"I thought he was going to hit you back," he admitted.
"Oh, my love. You don't need to worry," Ren replied, reaching over and hugging them both.
Martyn let his eyes fall closed, leaning his head against Ren's chest.
They lay down; Ren in the middle, Martyn on one side and Sausage on the other.
Soon, silence descended upon the room, the only sound being their breathing.
They were safe.
And the darkness was gone.
+