@whumpmasinjuly day 15 -- we’re picking back up from day 6 prompt “water” as Henry tries another great escape from Mari and Xander. Note the operative word there, guys. It does not go as expected... that is all, I shall say no more.
Click here to read the first part
cw: BBU sandbox, returned whumpee, trauma survivor, trauma recovery, attempted escape, manhandling, creative restraints, and forced isolation.
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Rain slapped hard against his cheeks as he ran down the driveway. Rolling thunder rattled the teeth in his mouth. The flashing lightening overhead lit up the pavement and trees stretched out in front of him, sent electrified happiness through his limbs. Henry grinned as he ran through the storm, water running rivers into his mouth.
He’d done it.
He was out.
It wasn’t that far from the house to the main road, where he could walk quickly into town and hide out in the library until he could get something to that journalist. He needed to make contact before the man forgot about him and Henry was fast. But the wind was a lot stronger than he had guessed it would be and it was beginning to prove troublesome. It slashed at his raincoat, twisting the ripstop around his waist and catching the hood to pull hard against his neck. It shoved him around on the slippery driveway, making running in a straight line difficult.
But that didn’t matter.
Henry was out. He’d done it again.
Lightening flashed bright through the dense grey cloud cover. It lit up the tree branches and heavy sheets of rain in stark, harsh detail. Henry blinked hard against the spots in his vision, stumbling. He pitched forward, landing hard on his shoulder. He grimaced and swore, drowned out by the raging storm.
It took a careful minute for him to reorient, to take a deep breath and hop back up onto his now soaked sneakers. He took a moment to pat himself down, inspect his scrapped-up hands. Something swirled in the corner of his eye and he glanced back up towards the house.
“Oh shit.”
Alexander Caldwell was standing in the doorway, staring right at him.
Henry’s heart dropped into his stomach as he stared back, all the wind sucked out of his sails. He couldn’t keep running. He didn’t know how long Alexander had been staring at him, if Mariana was nearby, and it would be stupid to keep running.
He was caught.
It was over.
Again.
Henry swallowed hard and raised a hand in a sort-of wave. He started to walk back, slow and easy, as inconspicuously as possible. His backpack felt heavier with every step, spiking worry so intense he could taste it on his tongue. He couldn’t throw it into the trees while Alexander could still see him. It was full of food and money, completely incriminating. He had pushed his luck back at the Facility and he didn’t think it would be on his side again so soon.
Henry kept walking back towards the house. Water dripped out of his hair, down his face, into the neck of his raincoat to soak the shirt underneath. The wind now at his back, pushing him forward all the way to the front steps.
Alexander watched him, arms crossed and glaring, the whole way.
Henry tried a smile. “Hi.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Alexander said, just over the howling wind.
“Looking,” Henry pointed up at the churning clouds. “I wanted to see it up close, you know?”
“Sure you did,” Alexander scoffed. He reached out, grabbing at the strap of his backpack and yanking Henry forward. He slipped on the wet wood, shins connecting hard with the edge of the stairs. “And what’s this? Is this your little go-bag, is my little slut walking off again?”
“N-No, no!” Henry protested, trying to plant his feet on the ground again. His teeth were gritted against the pain now and the rest he knew was about to break over him. He didn’t have an explanation, only a denial, and he kicked himself for not planning that far.
“Don’t waste your breath, kid.” Alexander shook the backpack and Henry with it. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy? Perhaps you forgot, but we learn from our past mistakes around here.”
Henry felt like a fish caught on a line, humiliated and soaked. Staring down at the painted wood and Alexander’s shoes, he grimaced and waited until the man was done. He would apologize, sure, but he would only if he could stand up.
When he tried to push himself upright, Alexander threw him forward. Henry braced and rolled, sliding on his side to land at the open front door. He rolled onto his front, turning his head to look into the house. His heart slid even lower.
The power was on. He couldn’t hear the generator.
They had seen him on the stupid video doorbell.
He didn’t have much time to think before hands were back on him, this time gripping his ankle like a vice. Henry had only a second before he was being dragged forward into the house, across the marble floor towards the stairs. He tried to slide his hand, tried to put some distance between himself and the obstacles Alexander was steering him into -- the front door and coat closet, the leg of a table in the entry hall, flipping him onto his back at the foot of the stairs. Henry squeaked and gasped with every bump.
“Like I said, we learn from our mistakes,” Alexander continued, seething. “So, you know what, sweetheart? I’m gonna let you keep your backpack, since you want it so badly. I’m going to let you keep it, oh sure.”
Henry held his head as they rounded the corner off the top of the stairs. He smacked into the bannister and walls on the way up, his body bouncing painfully on each wooden tread. His shoulder collided with the newel post, sending him back into the wall, as Alexander dragged him towards his bedroom.
Henry tried desperately to pull himself free, to flip onto his stomach, to grab at anything. But he couldn’t. Alexander had too good a hold on him. Frustrated tears prickled in his eyes.
“You, Henry, can keep your precious backpack and your raincoat and whatever else you’ve got in your pockets and socks.”
Alexander pulled him into the bedroom, but didn’t stop. Not until they were in the bathroom. Henry slid, then was stopped by Alexander forcing the backpack off his shoulders and tossing it into the tub. Next he pulled the raincoat from Henry’s shoulder’s, forcing Henry’s face into the tile floor as he twisted and tied the sleeves around him. Henry writhed and twisted, but it only seemed to help the man.
Alexander flipped him one last time, on to his back, and shoved a balled up handkerchief into Henry’s mouth. He smiled haughtily at the boy. “There. You can keep all your stuff, because you’re not leaving this room for the next week. Got it?”
Henry screamed against the fabric, thrashing and trying to move towards the door. Alexander just chuckled and kicked him back.
The bathroom door shut, the lock clicked into place and something set up in front of it. Alexander’s footsteps moved farther away, out of the bedroom, shutting that door, then back down the hall to the stairs.
Thunder rattled the house, the lights flickered, and Henry threw himself against the door.
