“Come here, little one.” I pushed my chair out enough before pulling him to my lap. Once there, he sat on my legs stiffly, keeping his body rod tight.
I wrapped my arms around him, forcing him to lean against my chest. His head went to my shoulder after a moment, even though he still didn’t relax. But that was fine.
I didn’t expect him to be comfortable in my hold. I was, after all, his owner for all intents and purposes. I was a stranger. One who screwed up with him from the start.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head.
“I’ll let you have the paci back if you answer me.” I assumed he liked it, since he hadn’t spit it out.
He simply shook his head again.
“Then the guessing game,” I sighed, not entirely in the mood for that. “I want the truth. No lying.” I gave him a moment, hoping he’d maybe just tell me what was wrong. When no words came out, I made my first guess. One that was obvious. “Tired?”
A very small nod, as though he feared my response to the answer.
“Stomach hurt?”
This time, a little shake of his head.
That’d be my guess, given the long few days.
“Don’t like my toast?”
He went to reach for the plate, and I once again stopped him. “Leave it, Oakley.”
Trying to think on what could possibly be bothering him, I came up empty.
“I give up. I’m not good at this game,” I huffed, kind of hoping that if I was over dramatic, it’d get some sort of response out of him. Instead, he slumped in my hold, not leaning into me, but also not so stiff against me, either. “You have to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me.”
Nothing. Not a single word.
“Oakley.” I deepened my voice, and all that did was make him fight against my hold. Letting him go, hefell to his knees before me, butt in the air and head touching the floor.
Shit.
It didn’t help that his butt was bare to the room, and to me. At least the bruising was better, but still not what I wanted from the boy.
Ever.
Not sure how to respond, I stood, taking his uneaten food to the trash, and putting both of our plates in the dishwasher. I took my time, trying to settle on what to do.
Obviously, I was still messing up.
Running a hand over my face, headache throbbing anew, I barked out orders that I instantly regretted. “Go to the bedroom.” Before I could retrace my words, Oakley was up and running, a sob catching in his throat.
All I wanted was to hold him, to take away his torment. I wanted to heal him, and show him that I wasn’t a monster.
I gave Oakley a good five minutes, hoping that’d be enough for him to calm down before I followed him up.
Once in the bedroom, he wasn’t anywhere. He wasn’t in his corner by the dresser, either. Although, there was a certain book that was peeking out from behind the dresser. I’d deal with that later. I did lift an eye at it, knowing the boy failed at being sneaky.
Taking the paci out of my pocket, I put it on his pillow. He’d eventually find it. Then, I shuffled out of my clothes on the way to the shower.
I just barely stopped, spotting the hiding spot.
Huddled between the sink and toilet, was one boy who was biting into his hand. That was certainlysomething we’d be working on, but after I took a shower.
