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Never Stop Counting

Guest katiek723

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This is actually in response to a challenge that I missed the deadline to...

'Pick a moment from the past that has been mentioned by characters but never really explored or seen on screen.'

I've made my own little continuity changes - In my story Sean does not exist, it's just Aden and Justin.

It's the first story I've written since I left school and I kinda freaked myself out...Hope you like it (as much as you can like this kind of story)

Story Title: Never stop counting

Type of story: oneshot, very short

Main Characters: Justin and Aden

BTTB rating: A (I don't think I went past A, but it is very dark)

Genre: Angst, Very dark

Does story include spoilers:No

Any warnings: Sexual content (very strongly implied, very mildly mentioned). Deals with abuse - PLEASE NOTE that this is very dark and probably not everyone's cup of tea.

Summary: Justin's thoughts.

…12:01 and 3 seconds…4…5… I focus on the clock beside my bed so intently that my head begins to buzz…21…22…23… The static in my ears gets louder and louder and I feel my mind begin to sink in a way so familiar to me now, disconnecting me from my surroundings. I can still feel his hands ghosting over me, but they feel far away, as if my body has grown so large and my thoughts shrunk down to a tiny point deep within. Almost like that point when you're just drunk, and your head feel big and fuzzy. I get drunk so often now, stealing from dad's bottles hidden around the house. He's so crippled by self-pity that he barely acknowledges the days that pass and I know he'll never notice a missing bottle…

…56…57…58…Keep counting, always keep counting. The steady drone of the numbers keeps me held down, deep below the surface, and drowns out the sound of his whispers in my ear…13…14…15…I can't help but think of the bag hidden away at the back of a cupboard, behind the abandoned toys that can no longer amuse. It's been there for days, packed full of clothes and stolen money, occupying my thoughts throughout the day and tormenting me at night. Do I have the strength to leave? Can I survive on my own?

…39…40…41…I hear a soft thud as the door closes and realise he is gone. 12:09 and 52 seconds. The whole encounter lasted only 10 minutes. It takes another hour for my mind to resurface and the sting of the crisp night air from the open window hits me hard. I jerk upright with the force of it, as I always do on my return to reality. I hear a soft whimpering to my right, and turn to see my brother curled in the corner of our room in a fitful sleep. He so often sleeps on that tiny patch of floor, like a scared little puppy; it's so much safer than his bed. Tears drip from his face, hitting the floor with a thud that reverberates in my ears. I stare at him for some time, a battle between disgust and jealousy raging behind my eyes…

…He still cries…

…He still feels the pain cut through him every time…

…He still has hope that things will change…

…In four days he will be 10 years old. I know that I won't be here. I am well aware of the horrors I am leaving him to face alone. I just don't care.


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