Archive of Our Own

Jimmy can feel the piss still slowly running down both his thighs, his underwear and shorts soaked in the clear, slightly yellow stuff.

Some of the other kids had stared, others pointed, others just laughed. His one friend stands next to him, holding his hand.

They both stare up at the teacher as she slowly paces back and forth in the gravel, giving them a not at all reassuring smile every so often. If he's counted right, this is the third time she's called home. Dad’s probably passed out drunk on the couch and Mom out cheating on him with that young guy she brings around sometimes. He briefly wonders if his father knows about that. Doesn't matter.

She puts her phone away and clears her throat. She bends down a little with her hands on her knees. "Alright, Jim. Since your parents aren't picking up, I'm going to call your—"

"Mh-mh. He's on vacation." Jimmy says and shakes his head.

It's a bold faced lie. He's gotten good at those. The piss is starting to dry on his skin and his clothes are sticking to it.

The teacher looks at him with this weird sort of pity smile on her face. It's twitching. She probably doesn't know how to act. Jimmy knows he has bad parents and he knows she knows, too.

It's obvious. He's missing too many teeth at once for it to be a coincidence, his lip is all busted open and his limbs are like sticks with joints attached. His Dad doesn't care that when he wears shorts like these the bruises (sometimes clearly from a foot, other times from a random blunt object) on his legs show. It looks like someone drew on him. As for his Mom, Jimmy is pretty sure she's forgotten he goes to school.

She clears her throat and the smile is now obviously forced. "Right. Well, then..." Her eyes drift to Curly, who's still holding his hand, then past the two of them. The other kids are talking and playing in a little clearing just off the path.

"Curly, how about you get him back to school and to the nurse? You know the way, don't you?"

Neglectful adults are common, but he hadn't known it even applies to teachers. They're seven years old. Doesn't matter if he knows the way, or shouldn't, at least. He keeps his mouth shut anyway. He stares up at her still. She looks away again.

"Uh-huh." In the corner of his eye, he can see the blonde waves of Curly's hair sway up and down as he nods.

"Right. Good. You two be safe, alright? And don't go wandering off anywhere. Or with anyone."

Another nod. Jimmy doesn't react.

She ruffles Curly's hair before swiftly walking past them. He doesn't listen to what she has to say to the other kids. He doesn't say anything as they start making their way back down.

Gravel crunches under their sneakers with every step. His are too big for his feet. They slip off his heel every so often. They're stained with crusted dirt, the white fabric more of a gross beige these days. Curly's fit perfectly and look brand new.

"Is your uncle really on vacation?"

The cicadas buzz around them.

"...Jimmy?"

"Shut up." He whispers, staring out to the cut off where the gravel path turns into a concrete road. Finally, he tears his hand free.

When they leave the cover of the forest, the summer sun blares down on them mercilessly. Curly lets out a little whimper at the sudden change.

"I'm sorry I let the others make fun of you." Curly mumbles when the silence gets too awkward. For him at least.

Jimmy doesn't care. He just shrugs. He likes doing that. It means he can't say the wrong thing. "Doesn't matter."

Curly keeps talking.

"I hope Ms. Patterson," The Nurse. "has extra clothes for you... These are your favorite pants, right?"

Only pants, he corrects in his head.

"Uh-huh."

"And, uhm, your legs.."

The cicadas buzz in the tall grass.

"They look like they hurt. What happened?"

You should see the rest of me, he thinks.

"My dad got angry."

"At you?"

"No. My mom didn't have dinner ready. 'Cause she wasn't home again."

Jimmy watches as a car with tinted windows drives past them, taking the turn into a road just before the gravel path begins.

He knows there's a small pond coming up. The edge should be covered in shadow right now.

Thankfully, Curly has kept his mouth shut, so he grabs his hand again. It's chubby — or maybe it just seems like that because every joint of his fingers is visible in contrast. He starts going off the road and taking large steps through the grass.

"Jimmy?"

No response.

Curly stumbles along. He probably doesn't want to leave him alone. He's just such a good boy.

Birds chirping fills the air around them once they reach what feels like the little oasis around the pond.

They both stand there for a while, hand in hand as he decides what to do. At least it's nice and cool in the shade.

Jimmy reaches down and unzips his pants, letting them drop to the ground before holding them in the water. His underwear follows. Curly stares at him. "What?" He finally asks.

"Does your dad... hit you?"

He pauses, moving both around in the water. "Sometimes, yeah. The ones on my ass are from my uncle though." Jimmy rests his chin on his knees, huffing softly.

"That's a bad word." 

"Who cares? No one's here." He mutters, putting his clothes on the grass to dry. He lets his hands hang in the water. "And all the adults swear anyway. You just don't hear it. Like with sex."

"Sex?" Curly questions, the grass rustling as he sits down, legs crossed.

Jimmy blinks. He turns his head to look at him. "Seriously?"

Curly blinks back at him. Oblivious.

"It's how you make babies. A boy puts his thing in a girl and that's how she gets pregnant." He leaves out the alternatives. Like a man putting it in a boy. That's the kind you don't talk about but everyone knows exists. An open secret. "...We're gonna talk about it in biology anyway. I think. You didn't hear it from me, got it?"

"Uh, okay. I won't tell."

An idea pops up in his head.

"You're curious, right?"

"Wh-what?" Curly immediately stammers. His cheeks go red. Just a little bit. "Not really..." He whispers, quickly shaking his head. "I mean, we're gonna learn about it anyway. That's what you said."

Jimmy laughs a little, staring at a worm crawling over a rock. A smile builds on his face. "You know, they're not gonna tell you everything. Like how boys can do it with boys."

"Like kissing and stuff?" — "No, you idiot. Sex."

Curly huffs at the insult. Even though that barely counts as one.

He reaches over to a smaller rock by his side, picking it up while watching the animal wiggle around. "Well, kissing too, but..." Jimmy then mumbles, bringing it down and crushing one half of the worm. Curly gasps next to him.

"Not what I mean." He finishes, lifting the rock and turning it over. Jimmy observes the tiny organs splattered on the surface.

Its other half flaps around.

It's probably panicking.

He wonders if worms like that feel pain.

They can't scream. So if they do, it must suck. Jimmy laughs, throwing the stone into the pond.

Before he knows it, there's sniffling next to him.

He freezes in place for a few seconds. He just listens as Curly starts to cry. When he looks at him, there's tears starting to roll down his cheeks and his lips are shaking. He's just staring at the stupid worm on the ground.

At the sight, Jimmy feels himself smiling. He starts laughing before he can hold back. "What are you crying for?" He asks, nudging Curly's shoulder.

"Be-because— because it's gonna die." He sobs, barely keeping it together. "Why'd you do that?"

Jimmy's laughter fades as a realization hits him. He hasn't felt this alive, this happy in a long time. "It looked gross." He says simply, grabbing the other half of the worm and tossing it in the water. A little bit of blood gets on his fingertips.

He smears it on Curly's leg, watches as he frantically tries wiping it away with his sweaty palm. He grabs his wrist. "You're just gonna get it everywhere like that."

Still sniffling, Curly stops moving and just looks at him.

It feels nice, being listened to like this.

"Look."

Turning Curly's palm face up, he parts his lips just a bit, letting a string of drool ooze into it until it forms a small puddle. He watches as his expression turns into a flustered one, his arm shaking a little. His breathing is all shallow and quick now.

After licking his lips, he pulls back and shoves Curly's hand back on his thigh. "There. Do it now."

Curly nods.

The blood mixes with his spit. It sounds gross, but it works, the red smear gone when Curly takes his hand away. His face looks funny.

"You're scared."

"Am not!" He sputters, eyes still puffy from crying.

All because he'd killed a stupid worm.

"I just don't like blood..." Curly continues, sounding defensive. What a wimp.

"Ugh." He huffs. "It was like, two drops."

"It got all over me!"

"On your leg! You're such a wuss."

As Curly frowns, Jimmy smiles. It's like looking at a puppy sitting out in the rain looking all sad.

He listens to the cicadas again.

"One time, when my mom didn't have any money to buy groceries," (probably because spent it all on drugs again, according to his dad), "I went into the backyard and started digging around for worms to eat."

Jimmy stares at the small blood stain on the rock. "So I kill every worm I see. 'Cause they deserve it." He mutters, glancing to check on his pants. They're maybe half dried by now. "And they're gross."

Curly is looking at him with a normal expression now, which is kind of a relief. He's a pain when he mopes around. Ignoring what he said, he asks a question Jimmy has been trying not to think about.

"Do you think they're gonna send those people to your house again?"

CPS. Child Protective Services. Not much of a service since they haven't done shit for him. Just made his parents and him better at lying.

"Dunno." He mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest. "They're probably not gonna do anything though."

For a house shared by an alcoholic and a drug addict with a kid, it's pretty normal looking. A good part of that is because he has to do almost every chore. Which he either does, or he gets dad's belt, boot, fist or whatever object he has on hand in the moment hitting any part of him.

Except his ass and stuff. He doesn't like seeing the aftermath of what happens at his brother's place.

"Why though?" Curly mumbles, rubbing snot off his nose.

His mouth twitches at the way it smears. Ew.

"How would I know?" He hisses. Curly manages to be so effortlessly annoying.

"Dunno..."

Jimmy scoffs, smiling to himself as he flops back into the grass, staring up at the sky. Clouds are starting to creep in, more and more grey. He folds his arms over his stomach. The smile fades as fast as it came.

"Do your parents ever hit you?" He asks, playing with the hem of his shirt.

Curly mirrors him, lying close, their shoulders almost brushing against one another.

"What? No." He then grumbles, sounding offended at the implication alone. "Mum and Dad fight sometimes though, I think."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. They yell and stuff."

Just as he's about to respond, Curly adds,

"But they make up after, so it's fine."

The corner of his mouth twitches and he lets out a huff. Of course everything has to work out for him in the end. For his family.

"What do they yell about?"

"Dad wants to have another baby, but Mum doesn't."

"That's stupid." Jimmy mutters.

The grass rustles as he shifts in place.

He continues, "You're already five—"

"I'm six."

"—what good is a siblings gonna do for you now?"

Curly crosses his arms. "Well, it's gonna teach me.. uhm, responsibility. I think."

Responsibility.

Of course.

Just as he's about to make a snappy remark, he pauses. If he had a brother or a sister, there'd be someone else for his dad to hit. Someone else his uncle can touch the way he's had to take. Someone else to do the chores. Someone to take the blame for him.

Something he can use.

"...I guess." He shrugs.

He flinches when the first droplet of rain hits him square on the forehead. It rips him out of his thoughts.

Ah. Fuck.

They might run into the rest of the class now.

"We should go." Jimmy says, scrambling to his feet. He steps into his boxers, then his pants, buttoning them up. They're loose everywhere and barely cling to his hips.

Curly stands, looking up at the sky. "It wasn't supposed to rain today." He whines, looking back down and at him again.

"So? You're not made of sugar. You'll live."

He doesn't get a response, so he starts walking back towards the road, eyes squinted as rain hits his face.

"I know, it's just..." Curly trails off into silence. He falls in line behind Jimmy.

"What, embarrassing? I peed myself earlier. Talk about embarrassing." He huffs, turning his head to look at Curly.

"They'll see how big I am..." He finally mumbles, now staring at the ground rather than at him.

Jimmy blinks, standing still, stopping Curly with his hands before he can bump into him. "No offense, but your clothes aren't hiding much anyway." He says, brows raised as he nods up and down his body.

Curly stares at him.

He stares back.

The second he notices the quivering of his mouth, Jimmy can't hold back a groan. "Oh my G—" He inhales, rubbing his face, "Will you stop fucking crying already?!" He snaps. Curly flinches.

The rain is picking up. The grass smacks against his calves, whipped around by the wind.

"No one's gonna bully you anyway, Jesus." Jimmy says, restlessly shifting on his feet as Curly sniffles, standing like an abandoned puppy. "Your parents are rich, and everyone loves money... so pull it together already."

He's not stopping.

Is he deaf or something?

His anger slips into a cold annoyance. What a baby.

Looking around, he sighs, stepping closer. "Sorry." He lies begrudgingly.

He's still crying.

Well, he would have preferred a less inconvenient route, but this would have to do.

Taking a deep breath, he shoves Curly. The field has a slight angle to it, so he falls hard on his ass, barely catching himself with his hands. As expected, the brief shock gets him to stop wailing.

Jimmy looks down at him.

"Let's go."

He would have slapped him, preferred it too, but with the shape he's in, it'd hurt him more than it would Curly.

"Goodness. What happened to the two of you?" The old lady croaks, adjusting her glasses as she turns to face them.

They stand in the doorway to the nurse's office, Curly’s legs covered in mud and both of them soaking wet from the by now pouring rain outside.

Jimmy shrugs and walks into the room, followed by a finally silent Curly. "I peed myself. So the teacher sent us back."

She huffs, muttering something under her breath. He can't be bothered asking her to repeat it.

"I tripped because it got slippery, Miss. I'm sorry..." Curly says.

Her ugly, wrinkly face brightens up at his words, a smile pulling at the folds around her mouth. "Oh, that's nothing to apologize for." She muses, standing up and ushering him toward the gurney looking bed. "I'll take a look at you soon, don't worry."

Curly smiles hesitantly and climbs on it, his hands curling on the edge. "Uhm... you should check on Jimmy first." He says, tilting his head to the side.

"Ah. Yes, yes." Ms. Patterson says, acting as if that had been her plan all along. She ruffles his hair briefly before turning to him. Curly gives a reassuring smile.

With her back now turned, she drops the smile. He can see it in her eyes. He knows the look. Irritation at the fact he's standing there, completely still, just staring at her.

Dad says it looks creepy.

His uncle says he likes it.

She then, much less gently than with Curly, guides him into the smaller side room. The one with a toilet and a sink. There's a cabinet with spares, too.

After closing the door and turning the lock, she sighs. "Alright, undress. I'll find something that fits." Ms. Patterson instructs, walking to the closet. He obeys silently.

It goes quiet aside from the rustling of his clothes, everything except for his shirt, falling to the tiled floor. Jimmy doesn't think to cover himself up as he waits, closing the toilet lid and sitting down. He watches her.

She's the oldest staff member. Over 50 for sure. The school doesn't have that specific of a dress code for the teachers aside from being covered up. Despite the dress she wears being a dark navy blue, he can tell her tits are sagging. Nurses should at least look nice, he thinks.

"You pushed him, didn't you?" She asks while rummaging around, tossing clearly old and worn boxers his way. He catches them and lazily pulls them up his legs.

"Mh."

Silence again.

"Of course you did." Ms. Patterson sighs and turns around when the sound of his zipper rings. "If this was any other child, I'd tell their parents, but I think you get disciplined enough already."

They both know she's talking about the bruises.

"Are you going to send me home?" He asks, slipping his socks back on, lifting his head to stare at her again.

She returns the look. "No one's there to pick you up anyway. Wait until Grant goes home. His parents pick him up." Ms. Patterson says blankly.

Jimmy huffs, swinging his legs back and forth.

"And why did you do it? Did your teacher annoy you again?" She mutters when he doesn't say anything, crossing her arms and leaning back against the cabinet. God, she's ugly.

"Didn't do it on purpose. It just happened." He hisses, sliding off the toilet.

Her face shifts. "Oh, you weren't lying?"

He scowls at her before turning the lock, opening the door and storming out. He doesn't give Curly so much as a glance before running off down the hallway.

He isn't going to cry.

Not because of this.

Who cares what she thinks?

He waits, sitting on the front steps of the school, covered by its roof. He silently fumes as he waits for Curly to leave as well. They're not required to go to any normal classes since the trip had been meant to last the entire day. It's pouring. Heat is rising up from the previously hot cement and everything in the distance is all foggy. Jimmy taps his feet on the ground, jaw tight. His gaze wanders to his hands, then his fingers, then his fingertips. He starts picking at the skin around his nails, scratching over it. At this point, he can barely remember what had gotten him this angry.

Through the rain words echo and drift into his head. They're spoken in his dad's voice.

You don't gotta listen to women, words slurred from alcohol, their mouths ain't for talking anyway.

Jimmy hums to himself, waiting to see red and feel the rip of skin breaking as he plucks.

A walking pair of sagging tits is what she is, The phantom sensation of a fist connecting with his jaw makes him wince, If I get CPS at my fucking door again because of that bitch, you're going to wish you'd kept your mouth shut!

Dad has to be right. He is right, because he says so. And agreeing costs him less than pocketing a beating without crying.

Looks at my kid, thinks she knows what's best. The gall of that woman. Pisses me the fuck off.

Bored of his unsuccessful scratching and pulling, Jimmy rubs his jaw instead.

That bruise is long gone by now. It feels like he got it just days ago though.

He remembers going to his uncle's after.

The dinner, pasta if he remembers it right, had been good.

He even got to watch an R-rated movie.

He got to cry without getting hit even more because of it.

After that, at night, they played.

Jimmy prefers not to think about that part for too long.

A finger suddenly taps his shoulder and he looks up. Curly.

"My mum is gonna be here soon." He says with a smile, sitting down next to him. "Why did you run off earlier?"

"She called me a liar." Pretty much, at least. "I hate her."

The smile fades. "Oh." Rain fills his ears until Curly keeps talking. Because of course he does. "Don't you want to go inside?"

"Why?"

"It's kinda cold out here..."

"I'm not keeping you on a fucking chain, am I?"

"I'm just saying that.." — "Stop 'just saying' then."

What he guesses is a few minutes later, a car so fancy it could only belong to one of Curly's parents rolls up to the sidewalk. He remembers the time his dad parked right in front of them and he'd wanted to sink into the floor from the sheer humiliation of it. Jimmy is just glad there hasn't been a repeat performance of that since.

He lets himself be pulled to his feet and out into the rain. Approaching the car, Curly opens the passenger side door. "Mummy, is it okay if Jimmy comes with? No one's picking up for him."

Their eyes meet. She looks at him like you would a really ugly pet her son wants to pretty please! keep.

She nods without a word, gesturing for both of them to get in. 

Jimmy feels like a ghost in the car as he listens to the conversation in front of him with hands gripping his knees tightly and a blank expression on his face. He doesn't hear himself answer when she asks for the directions to his house. His voice is overshadowed by theirs. No. Entirely drowned out.

"Why'd it have to start raining?" Curly whines.

"Were you having fun, sweetie?" His mom asks with her lips pursed into a smile.

"Uh-huh. Me and Jimmy went back early though."

Rain. Platter, platter, against the windows.

"Mummy?"

"How come?" Her gaze flicks back to him for a moment as the question leaves her mouth. The smile remains.

"He had-"

"I felt sick." Jimmy cuts him off and returns the smile, putting as much effort into faking it as he usually does. She quickly looks away. "I feel better now though. We went to the nurse."

"We?" She questions.

At that, Jimmy freezes.

Shit.

"Yeah. Curly wanted to keep me company."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm." Curly agrees in the least convincing way possible.

An almost painful silence fills the car for the rest of the ride. He knows that she knows he just lied straight to her face. Thankfully for him, she isn't the type to make a scene in front of her kid. Not that he has any interest in what she thinks of him, or of him hurting her son. Which he barely had.

When he gets out of the car, he doesn't return Curly's meek little 'bye', slamming the door behind him.

Trudging down the path to his house with its overgrown front lawn covered by untamed, huge bushes that used to be hedges and a large oak tree with branches that are too weak to carry him. It doesn't bear any fruit. It stands there looking sad, leaves more grey than green barely hanging onto its drooping pathetic excuse of a crown. The pathway to the front door is made of big stones, fractured into dozens of little ones. He knows it isn't gravel because he remembers them when they were big.

It's fittingly depressing, a nice prelude for what you'd find on the inside.

He only notices it belatedly.

Dad's car isn't there.

Mom's is.

Jimmy looks over his shoulder, just to make sure he hadn't imagined it.

There it is. A black Toyota with a small scratch on the driver's side door.

She came back. She really came back!

Her words ring in his ears.

"Oh, baby..." She softly caresses his face, knelt down in front of him. "Oh, this is all my fault..." She whispers gently as tears roll down her cheeks.

Panting, Jimmy runs to the front door, pulling out the house key from one of the pockets in his backpack.

Her pupils are so big. "You still love mommy, right?"

He slides it into the lock and turns it.

"Good. Such a good, brave boy." He winces when she squeezes him too tightly in her arms.

Jimmy pulls it back out before slowly opening the door so it doesn't creak the way it usually does, loud and obnoxious. He slips inside.

"I have to go now, okay?" — "No, mommy!"

He kicks off his shoes and drops his backpack to the floor. He doesn't pay the extra pair of shoes any mind. The smell doesn't register.

She's standing at the door. "The next time I'm here, I'll come take you with me, okay? And we'll leave. Just wait. Be good and wait." She rambles.

He stops in his tracks.

"Mommy loves you so much."

"Oh, fuck!" She moans, so loud he hears it through the bedroom door, even down the hall.

The man responds in a language he doesn't understand.

"Shit, yes, I love it!" The bed creaks and slams against the wall. "Go harder, I love y—"

He turns on his heels and runs to the bathroom, dry heaving over the toilet, fighting the urge to throw up. He waited. He waited. He waited, and he waited more. He was good and he waited for her. He was a good boy and he waited for her.

Jimmy doesn't know how long he sits on the tile floor like that, emptying his stomach into the toilet bowl. By the time he's done, drool is hanging from his bottom lip.

"Yo, Darcy! There's a kid in your bathroom!" It's the man, speaking English now. Jimmy doesn't recognize his voice. He's not sure if that makes him feel better or worse or any different at all.

Hurried footsteps come down the hall. He recognizes the panicked breathing. "Shit." He hears her hiss. "Jimmy? Oh my God, Jimmy—" She grabs him by the shoulders and turns his body to hers. He frowns a little when he properly looks at her.

She looks thinner than he remembers her being. Her skin is more wrinkled and pale. Her arms are dotted with small, round, purple bruises. She's still practically naked, the back of her bra not properly closed. "What are you doing here?"

His lips quiver. "School ended early..." He whispers, letting her caress his face with trembling fingers. "Who.. who is that?" Jimmy asks, gesturing to the man without looking at him. "Why did you have sex with him?"

Mom's hands stop. "Mh. Right. You're a big boy already." She says, the softness in her voice lessening. "Your dad is bad, isn't he?" She slips one of them into her bra, pulling out a tiny bag.

Jimmy nods, blinking.

She puts a thumb in his mouth, pulling it open before pressing the pad of it on his tongue. There's something on it. It tastes bad.

"Ngh—?!" He gags as she forcefully slips it deeper.

"Shhh..." She soothes. Or at least he assumes that's her intention. "You can't tell Daddy about this, okay? But mommy.. is pregnant from this man. You're having a baby sibling."

With his face scrunched up, Jimmy swallows the tablet, pulling his head away and gasping for air. "What?" He asks. He knows he'd asked for a sibling, but not like this. From a stranger? No, no.

"Yeah." His mom murmurs softy, taking one of his hands and putting it to her still mosty flat stomach. No difference but the faintest bump. Easily brushed off as a little weight gain.

"..." He looks at her, speechless, before opening his mouth after a long stare—off. His head feels strange. "Is dad going to find out?"

She smiles softly, petting his head. "Are you going to tell on me?"

Jimmy faintly shakes his head. "No." 

"Then he's not going to find out, baby." She whispers.

"Okay."

She nods at him, then stands up and lets go of him. "Go play outside." Mom says and turns around, walking back down the hall toward the bedroom without another word. He watches.

After what feels like an eternity of staring at the floor, Jimmy shuffles to his feet. There aren't any more sounds coming from down the hall, but he can only assume all they've done is quiet down.

Walking to the front door, he silently puts his trainers back on, trying to ignore how dirty they are. Looking out the glass pane it's apparent that the occasional drops of rain are still falling from the cloudy sky.

But mom said to go outside, so he's probably better off out there.

He pushes it open with a series of creaking announcing his departure followed by a firm thud. Jimmy looks up at the sky for a while before rounding the house.

If he remembers right, there's a beetle nest somewhere near the back fence. He feels an intense, sudden urge to go to it. He isn't sure why. Not yet.

Listening to the wet grass being forced flat under his shoes is strangely satisfying. Everything feels louder, looks more vivid. He's reminded of the faintly lingering taste in his mouth. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling it leaves in his stomach.

Jimmy trudges through what used to be a garden, kicking aside the weeds blocking his way. His socks are starting to get wet as the water seeps through the lousy fabric of his trainers. Ew.

He doesn't know how long he walks around the yard before spotting it. The beetle. It's sitting on a small rock. Blissfully unaware. His lips purse into a thin line, tightening with every step he takes.

The insect doesn't move when he drops to his knees in front of it, barely an arms length away. His eyes fixate on it. The edges of his vision blur into a distorted mess of colors. He pays it no mind.

It doesn't react when he picks it up. Not at first. The texture of it is revolting, but he holds it in his palm regardless. Jimmy feels his heart hammer in his chest and his blood pump through his veins. His breathing feels shallow.

Tightening his grip, he reaches out with his other hand. It's black with horns bigger than its head and limbs unnervingly thin. He feels sick just holding it. It starts squirming around, poking him. Jimmy pauses at the pain. Then laughs.

He watches it thrash and stabbing at his skin with its horns. It must be fighting for its life right now. It's difficult to stop his giggling.

Jimmy moves it around in his hands some, eventually getting hold of one of its violently twitching legs. He doesn't hesitate for very long. With a surprisingly firm pull, he rips it off from the base. He tosses it into the grass.

He grabs the next, and the next, and the next, pulling harder every time, the tearing and ripping sound louder than it probably should be. By the time he's done, all it can do is wiggle around — like a worm — while bashing its head into his skin and pinching.

It's boring.

For a moment, he considers putting it down in the grass again to let it die a slow, inevitable, agonizing death. But he doesn't have the patience, and the thought alone isn't enough to make him feel better. Not right now.

Taking the head in his grasp, he twists it, then pulls. With a crack, the head separates from the body. One in each hand. It stops moving. Obviously. He hasn't felt this kind of rush in his life.

He has to swallow drool that he hadn't noticed pool in his mouth. Opening his mouth, he lets it dribble past his lips and into the grass. It keeps going for a while until he feels like tossing it. He does, eventually.

Looking down at his palms, he looks at the sticky blood coating them. He flexes his fingers, watching it spread on his skin. A morbid curiosity starts to take root in his brain.

Slowly, he reaches down into the grass and picks the body back up, turning it on its back. Pressing his thumbs into its belly, he waits until it cracks open, a splash of its tiny organs bursting out and revealing its hollow insides. His fingertips are covered in their viscous red.

Gross.

...Gross.

His mouth opens before he can stop himself, cautiously closing his mouth over his fingertips. He sucks on them briefly and grimaces. Takes them out. Swallows anyway.

Suddenly, "The fuck are you doing?"

Jimmy's head snaps upward. Dad.

"...Nothing." He mumbles while putting his hand down.

"Your mom's here?" His voice sounds weird. Like it's been put through a filter.

He doesn't feel afraid, not the way he usually does. The face — or one of them — that haunts his nightmares is blurred, all of its features nothing but differently colored blotches.

"Yeah. Inside."

The conversation ends there. No questions about why he's out in the rain, or why he's home this early. He just walks away. The front door closes with a loud slam. He only notices it now, but all the sounds around him have been slowly morphing into a collective, nonsensical droning. Covering his ears does nothing to drown it out.

Everything's getting too loud, too bright, too hot but also too cold—

Sometimes a crashing noise breaks through the rest of the noise before joining it. Glass, he thinks? Yelling follows and hurried footsteps rush past him, the words distorted beyond recognition. It's impossible to tell if it's sweat or rain running down his trembling arms.

It takes a second for him to register it when someone pulls him to his feet.

"The fuck did you give him?!"

"I—I didn't think he would react like that!"

"What the fuck was it?"

"Fucking— it was LSD, okay?"

"Jesus Christ, Darcy!"

He stumbles, foot catching on the front steps.

Dad, he realizes, tosses him into the hallway, letting him fall back on his ass.

Mom crouches down beside him, pulling apart his eyelids. "Oh, baby..." She whispers breathlessly.

"Don't 'oh baby' him, you stupid bitch!" He yells, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her against the wall across from him. He continues to hit her until she's shielding her face, on her knees in the corner.

Jimmy stares. This is the first time he's seen it up close like this. When his father raises his foot, clearly looking to kick her in the stomach the way he does Jimmy, he freezes.

No.

"Mom's pregnant..." He slurs, trying and failing to stand up. He watches as the foot hits the ground with a thud.

No one's talking now. He just hears Mom sobbing muffled behind her hands.

Eventually,  "Oh yeah?" Dad heaves, crouching down in front of him and grabbing his hair. "She tell you that?"

Jimmy nods.

His vision swims as his head snaps to the side, forced to turn by the back of his dad's hand. His cheek feels like it's on fire. A ringing fills his ears. Nothing penetrates it.

Forcing himself to look straight ahead again, he watches his lips move without making a sound. None he can hear at least. A rough pat on his head.

Darkness.

Consciousness returns to him eventually.

His head pounds whenever he opens his eyes even a sliver. He can't help the pained whimpers he lets out as he tries to do it.

There's music playing. Quiet. And very close.

Everything's vibrating just a little bit around him.

Reaching to his chest, his fingers brush against rubber. A seatbelt?

"Mom..?" He whispers whilst anxiously shifting in his seat.

A quiet chuckle comes from the driver's seat. "No. Your dad called me."

Like a deer in headlights, Jimmy freezes the moment he recognizes the voice. And he'd recognize it anywhere.

"He said him and Darcy had something to 'discuss'. Didn't want you there."

Managing to force an eye open, he looks frantically at his door. The lock is in place. "Let me out, please." He whispers.

Fingers tap against the steering wheel.

"Why do you ask me to do things you know I won't do?" A hand briefly pats his knee before returning to the gear stick. "I wasn't thrilled at having to drive all this way in a storm just to pick you up for a few hours, trust me."

Jimmy doesn't know what to say, so he just scoots as far away from his uncle as he possibly can.

"He told me not to have you checked at the hospital."

"...What for?" He mumbles.

"You don't remember your mom giving you LSD?"

"Oh."

"Not feeling conversational?"

He turns and looks at him, glad to find he isn't also being stared at. "I pissed myself at school."

Silence.

"That's as good a reason as any." His uncle responds, briefly throwing a glance his way. "Do you need new clothes?"

It's a trap.

"No." He whispers.

The rain hits hard. The windshield wipers barely keep up with the downpour. They're driving so slowly that it feels like they're crawling along the street.

"Don't be stupid."

It's a trap.

He's trying to trick him.

Jimmy swallows, his shaking hands curling into tight fists on his thighs.

He can feel the stare pinning him down in the seat. It makes him want to peel off his skin. A satisfied hum reaches his ears.

"You just have to ask. We'll go to the mall—"

He isn't being nice.

"—and I'll get you whatever you want."

He wants something from you.

Don't say it.

No.

Don't make him angry.

It's worse when he's pissed off.

Quietly,

"I do."