Chapter Text
Wilbur sat in his last class of the day. He was buzzing with energy. His friend was holding a minecraft olympics with a few of their friends. Wilbur stared at the big white analog clock on the wall above the door as the thin black seconds hand ticked closer to the 12 mark. He had his hand on his book bag strap and was entirely prepared to stand up and swing it over his shoulder. He counted down the last five seconds and when the bell rang he shot up from his seat, slung his backpack strap over his shoulder and rushed out of the class. He pulled his other arm through the other strap as he met his friend in the hallway.
“Are you ready?” Wilbur’s friend, George, asked.
Wilbur nodded energetically, “I’m so excited. I’ve been practicing so much.”
“Think you’re gonna win?” George held the door open for Wilbur.
Wilbur smirked, “For sure. I’m gonna win by far.”
“Well good luck, then,” George said.
Him and George walked home together every day. They were best friends and did everything together.
Wilbur had been so psyched for the minecraft olympics. They had it planned for so long. Wilbur just hoped that his father would let him. He had put so much effort into practicing and it would ruin his whole weekend if it all went to waste. It all depended on his father’s mood. And how much he’d been drinking. But it usually wasn’t that, usually Wilbur did something wrong and got in trouble for it. He wasn’t allowed to have friends over, but he figured it was because his mom was always at work. She worked so hard to provide for the family. His dad worked too, but she had much longer hours. He always felt horrible whenever his dad had to punish him for doing things wrong. It made him feel like he wasn’t putting enough effort into being a good kid. He always got told that he was a good kid by friends’ parents and teachers, but he was sure that he wasn’t. His father said he was a bad child and he was lucky for everything he had. He was so much more lucky than other kids. Sure, he had to spend most of his time in his room to avoid doing anything wrong out of fear from being hit. But he had a computer and that could keep him occupied forever.
“Hey Wilbur,” George said.
Wilbur turned to George, “Yeah?”
“Do you know which color this is?” George showed him his phone.
He was pointing to an image where a kid their age was wearing a yellow shirt with a green stripe,”
Wilbur nodded, “That’s yellow, and the stripe is green.”
“Alright, Thanks,” George smiled and continued to tap on his phone.
Wilbur wasn’t allowed to have a phone. He didn’t understand why, he was in Junior High, so he’d be doing things away from home. His dad had told him that he didn’t need a phone. Wilbur had one time asked his mom for one when she was off work, and when his dad found out he had slapped him so hard across the face that Wilbur had to find his mother’s makeup to cover it. He was sure that the puffy red hand print bit would go away before school but he wasn’t as sure about the bruise across his cheekbone. He remembered trying to find concealer in his mother’s drawer and trying to apply it before school.
Wilbur opened the door quietly, he had been yelled at many times for opening the door too loud. He walked straight to his room and closed the door quietly behind him. He set down his bookbag beside his bed and walked over to his computer. He logged into his computer account and spun excitedly for a few moments before his blue sheep on a mustard yellow background wallpaper popped up. He had designed it himself. It was based off his blue pet sheep on his friend’s minecraft server. He was actually quite proud of it. His father was not. The scar on his shoulder proved it. When he had shown his father the image, his father had gone on about how he didn’t want his son wasting the family potential on art. He talked about how art wouldn’t get him anywhere in life. And when Wilbur had said that he wasn’t actually considering art for any major job or anything, his father had thrown his empty beer bottle at him. It had hit his jaw and the glass from the shattered bottle had cut his shoulder because he had been wearing a tank top. It got very hot when the AC broke in the middle of the summer.
He knew that it was normal for everyone to get hit and get things thrown at them. He knew everyone had bruises. But he didn’t see them on the kids at school. Maybe they all covered them up like he did. He didn’t think that he looked good with bruises. Maybe he deserved it. He was a bad child, and always worried over pointless things. His dad said so, and his dad was never wrong. Ever. His dad had said that as well. Surely he couldn’t be wrong. He was Wilbur’s dad, and he was an adult.
Wilbur logged into Minecraft and excitedly joined his friend’s “Minecraft Olympics” server. Once his chunks loaded he saw his friend’s avatar on the screen. He clicked onto the discord server they were all on and joined the voice chat.
“Hey George,” Wilbur said excitedly.
He heard George giggle a bit, “Hello Wilbur. You sound excited.”
“I’m so pumped!” Wilbur yipped quietly.
“Okay, everyone should be joining soon. Dream and Karl sent me a DM saying they’d be there in a bit,” George explained.
“Alright, awesome! I’m definitely gonna win!” Wilbur tapped his fingers on his desk.
“I love the confidence,” George giggled a bit.
Wilbur shrugged, “I’m a very confident man.”
“Come on, Wilbur. You know you’re not a man,” George teased.
Wilbur gasped, “No, I am a man!”
“Height doesn’t equal age,” George said.
“I am a man,” Wilbur insisted.
He could practically hear George roll his eyes, “Alright Wilbur, you’re a man.”
Wilbur smiled, “We are starting in 6 minutes right?”
“Yeah, but Karl’s bus is running a bit late so we may have to wait for a few minutes. It’s already 3:04, so we’ve been out for like 45 minutes. His bus should be there soon,” George clarified.
Wilbur felt a pressure on his foot and looked down to see his cat Salem rubbing her face on his shin. She looked up at him with her evergreen eyes and released a soft mew. Wilbur smiled and ran his fingers through Salem’s soft brown streaked fur. She jumped up onto his desk, knocking his mouse onto the floor. She pushed her face into his hand and ran her cheek across his fingertips. He pet both sides of her soft face with his hands, causing her to begin to purr.
“Did Salem join our call?” George asked.
Wilbur laughed a bit, “Yeah, looks like it.”
“She really likes you,” George said.
Wilbur nodded even though George couldn’t see him, “She’s a good cat.”
Almost on cue, he heard his father’s enraged voice echo through the house.
“Where is that damn cat?” His father yelled.
Wilbur knew he was drunk, he could hear it in his father’s voice. He told George he’d be back in a second and quickly scooped up Salem. He ran over to his window and opened it. He reached out and set Salem on the roof. He knew that she could get down using the tall trees in the back of the yard. He quickly shut the window and closed both the blinds and the curtains. He quickly made his way to his door. He hesitated for a moment before quietly opening it. He saw his father reaching for the bathroom door handle lazily. He still had a glass bottle of beer in his other hand.
“Is something wrong?” Wilbur asked.
His father turned to him with an angry expression, “Like hell there is! That damn cat of yours shit outside the front porch and I stepped on it!”
“Oh, I haven’t seen her,” Wilbur said.
His father huffed and flung his hand from the door handle to his side, “Well I can’t do nothin, I gotta do something to someone.”
“I haven’t seen Salem,” Wilbut repeated.
His father jerked his hand back and threw the half empty beer bottle at Wilbur. On reflex his hand flew up to his face and swatted the bottle from the air. A mistake. Oh boy. He shouldn’t have reacted, it would’ve missed. His father’s aim was usually pretty bad when he was drunk.
His father’s brown gaze set on him, making eye contact with his which he was sure were wide and full of fear. He gripped his other wrist tightly, not noticing when his nails dug into his own skin. He waited for his father’s next move. He didn’t have time for this, he had things to do. His plan was to just to run back into his room, lock his door, and let his father sleep it off if he approached him. He hoped that his father didn’t. He would hear yelling and banging for some time after that.
He looked down at the beer bottle that landed back near his father’s feet. All of the remaining beer inside had emptied onto the carpet floor. He’d have to scrub all that out. His eyes flickered back up as his father reached for the bottle. He waited until his father reached back to throw the bottle to run. He quickly turned and opened his door. He swung his small body around the side of the door and slammed it shut as a loud shattering sound hit the door. Wilbur turned the lock on his door and heard the loud noise of a fist banging on the door. He flinched slightly as the pounding noise sounded every few seconds before it came to a stop.
Wilbur heard footsteps leaving the other side of his door and he walked over to his computer. He sat down in his chair and pulled back up the call he was in the with George. He put his earbud back into his ear and unmuted.
“Hey guys,” Wilbur said. He noticed that Karl and Dream had joined.
“Oh my god, Wilbur has finally arrived,” Karl’s voice rang through Wilbur’s earbud.
“He was actually here first Karl,” George said with a bit of humor.
“Welcome, Wilbur,” Dream greeted his avatar with a punch of minecraft.
“Are we all ready to begin?” George asked.
Everyone confirmed and the countdown in the discord server began. It counted down five seconds until they were all teleported to a different room where they were all separated by colored glass. Wilbur’s color was yellow, Karl’s was purple, George’s was blue, and Dream’s was green, but George didn’t know that.
They all discussed which game they wanted to start first, and they all, excluding Karl, agreed on parkour. Karl was good at parkour, but he wanted to do building first. Wilbur was entirely okay with anything first because he had practiced all of it. He had put hours and hours of work and effort into this minecraft olympics.
He stared at the words and yelled in joy. He had done it, he won the minecraft olympics. He jumped up, his earbud ripping out of his ear. He jumped in circles for a few seconds before putting his earbud back in.
“See George! Oh my god I did it!” He yipped.
Everyone congratulated him on winning and laughed at his excitement. All of his hard work had paid off. His good mood was quickly ruined when he heard a loud slam on his door. His blood ran cold and everything went quiet. He was sure his friends had heard it. He quickly dismissed himself from the discord call and shut off his computer. He ran over to his window, his mom should be home soon. He wouldn’t act a fool with her home. He was relieved when he saw her car in the driveway. Except, there was another car in the driveway behind her’s that he didn’t recognize.
He walked over to his door and slowly opened it, unsure where his father was. He poked his head out and felt pain erupt across his cheek and his vision went blurry for a moment. He looked up to see his father, his drunken raged face staring right at him. His father grabbed him by the arms and slammed him into the wall beside his door in the hallway. He bit back a yelp as his elbow on the corner of his door frame. His father’s grip tightened as he yelled angry disconnected words that he didn’t understand in his face. His father’s breath reeked of beer.
“You messed my whole damn life up kid!” His father yelled, “I wish you weren’t even here!”
The words broke through the mental shield he had built. They hit his core and shook him. They hurt. He held back tears. Surely this was all his fault. He had run away from his dad hours earlier but he didn’t know he would remember it.
“This whole family is broken because of you. Your mother and I were happy without you. Now all we do is fight. And it’s all because of you!” His father threw his small body into the other wall. Pain filled his head and he gasped, trying to minimize his vocal reaction to the pain.
“You really thought running away a bit ago was smart. With all that stupid anxious overthinking you do, I figured you might think against that,” His father scoffed.
His fearful expression dropped to one of numbness. He deserved this punishment. He was the cause of the issues in his parents’ marriage. It was all him. He ruined his mother and father’s lives. He took the hits from his father. He took them all until the final hit, the one that left him on the floor with his vision entirely black.
When he woke up he was in a room with white walls and a window. It was daylight and he was in a hospital bed. He then recognized the room as a hospital room. Why was he in the hospital? He thought over the events of the night before and sighed. A nurse walked into the room and he looked up at her. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin.
“Hello Wilbur, you can call me nurse Kelly! I’m here to check up on you. I need to rebandage some of your wounds and to see how you’re healing!” She had a very upbeat and energetic voice.
Wilbur nodded and she walked over to him. He was still in his long sleeved shirt and jeans, which he was glad for. He didn’t like hospital gowns, they seemed a little creepy to him. She asked to see his left arm first, which he lifted up and rolled up his sleeve. He was shocked when he saw the deep purple bruise of his father’s tight grip. There were yellow and purple bruises up his arm as well. He bit his bottom lip to keep from crying. The bruises looked awful. She took off the bandage on his arm to reveal a deep red slice. He didn’t remember where that would even have come from.
His left arm didn’t look any better. In fact, it looked nearly the same. She asked him to remove his shirt so she could work on his back and shoulders. He did as he was asked and pulled his shirt over his head. He instantly felt the pain on the bruises and cuts on his back. He saw that his chest was wrapped with bandages and his ribs spiked in pain as she removed the bandages. His spine burned when she dipped a cotton ball in some liquid and applied it to his spine.
He pulled his shirt back on after she told him that he could. She said that his legs weren’t damaged and that they had already been looked at for injuries.
“So that’s it for my exam and check up. A social worker will be in here right after me to ask you some questions and to inform you of your situation,” Nurse Kelly smiled as she left the room.
Another lady entered after nurse Kelly left. She seemed much more formal. She was in a black suit with her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her deep brown eyes just screamed of importance.
“Hello, Wilbur. My name is Ms. Maven. I am a social worker. I am here to ask you a couple of questions as well as to inform you of some things. Sound good?” Ms. Maven asked.
Wilbur nodded quickly. None of this made sense. What happened? Nobody did anything wrong besides himself. He was just getting punished for being a bad child.
“Okay cool. So, as I'm sure you are aware of, you are aware of, you are in a hospital right now. Me and your mother walked into your house last night to you on the floor unconscious as your father kicked you in the ribs. Your next door neighbour had heard yelling a bit before, and had claimed to have heard yelling nearly every day. You had three broken ribs, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and serious bruising,” She paused to let Wilbur catch up.
“Now I have some questions for you. Please answer every single one completely honestly. Number one, has your father ever hit you before last night?” She asked.
Wilbur nodded.
“For how long has he been hitting you?”
Wilbur thought for a moment, “Um… a really long time. I think I was eight when he hit me for the first time.”
“Okay, what are your thoughts on his actions?”
“Well, they were punishments. I almost always did something to deserve it,” Wilbur answered.
“How did it make you feel?”
“Um… Sometimes it made me feel worried and sometimes it made me feel angry. B-but I knew it was a punishment,” He added the last bit quickly.
“Did he ever do other things that made you feel that way?”
Wilbur nodded, “He would make jokes about my anxiety that aren’t funny.”
“Did he ever apologize for them?”
Wilbur shook his head.
“Did you ever mention how they made you feel?”
Wilbur nodded.
“How did that go?”
“He had uh- he had shoved me out of the way into a wall and told me to be less sensitive.”
“Did he change?”
Wilbur shook his head.
“Okay, can you tell me what happened last night? Please be as detailed as you can.”
Wilbur thought for a moment, “Well I got home and had a minecraft olympics thing with my friends. He flipped out because the cat crapped all over something of his, then he got mad at me and threw a bottle at me. I hit it away from my face then ran into my room. He got mad but I guess went back to sleep. I won my minecraft olympics thing with my friends and celebrated a little too loud and woke him up. He got mad and um- he uh- he… well he punched me in the face. Then he slammed me against the wall. Then he said some stuff. I don’t remember anything between that and passing out.”
He was shaking by the time he finished his explanation. The social worker closed the notebook that she had been writing in that Wilbur hadn’t even noticed. There was no going back. He had told her everything. He hadn’t ever even told that to his own mother.
“Okay. Your father was arrested for child abuse and is going to prison for five years. Your mother will be your guardian unless decided otherwise. I will be checking up on you for a little while and you will be attending therapy for a little while,” Ms. Maven said before standing up and leaving.
Wilbur sat there for a moment after she left. He felt a lump begin to form in the back of his throat as he looked out the window. The sun was setting and tears began to fall from Wilbur’s eyes. They rolled down his cheeks and onto his hands as he held his face in his hands. He silently sobbed himself to sleep.