Work Text:
Tommy'd had another nightmare. Woke his mom and dad up with his screaming and thrashing. His mom sat with him all through the night and rubbed his back. Tommy let his mom stroke his hair while Dad went to fetch him a glass of water.
Tommy was sixteen now. Too old for his mom to be fussing over him. At least that's what the guys all said when she used to visit. Before he left the team, came back home.
His mom continued to stroke his hair.
“I hate her.”
Tommy’s mom said nothing, just kept stroking his hair. Each pass of her hand seemed to soothe him, reassure him that he was safe now, that nothing he said or did would be used against him.
Not like it was in Sean and Rebecca’s home.
Rebecca used to collect every minor injustice to hurl back at him like stones, to twist and manipulate him and make him feel guilty. Guilty for not wanting. Guilty for not stopping. Guilty for doing it with Henry sleeping down the hall. Even now, he still felt guilty.
Tommy’s gut twisted. He hated thinking of her. Hated thinking of Sean and Henry too. Thinking of Sean and Henry just reminded him of Rebecca. Of what she did to him under cover of darkness. Her cold, unblinking blue eyes. The way she’d let her nightgown slither off her shoulders to pool at her feet. How she'd step daintily over it. How her toes were always painted a glossy red.
Red nail polish still made his stomach twist into knots upon knots until he thought he'd start coughing up blood. It was weird, the things that stayed with you.
He could hear his dad banging around in the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors. Footsteps heavy, thumping, angry.
“I wish she was dead,” Tommy said, fisting his hands in his comforter. “Everyone says I should feel lucky, but I just wish she was dead.”
Tommy didn't tell his mom he sometimes dreamt of killing Rebecca. Putting his hands around her neck and wringing it. Getting one of Sean's hunting rifles out of the cabinet in their bedroom and shooting her while she slept. Shooting them all. Even Henry.
That made him no better than Rebecca, didn't it? Sean and Henry hadn't done anything to him. He still wanted them to hurt too.
“Who’s everyone?” his mom asked, stilling her hand.
“The guys,” Tommy said. His voice shattered under the weight. “The ones who started spreading the rumors. They act like I should be grateful. Like it’s weird that I’m not.”
“She took something from you that you didn’t consent to give,” his mom said, dropping her arm around Tommy’s shoulders. “They can’t understand. Lord willing, they’ll never have to.”
Tommy sighed and dropped his head into his mom's lap. He felt like a little boy. A weak, pathetic child.
There were a million things thumping around in his brain that he wanted to say.
He settled on: “When is this all just gonna…go away?”
After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Mom said, “I wish I could make it easier for you. I wish I could answer that question for you.”
Tommy closed his eyes, felt himself nodding off a little bit. Her hand started up in his hair again, stroking stroking stroking, until he drifted off with his head in her lap.