Their terror at being touched cuts through the pack link, the raw brutality of their fear as painful as any knife blade, scoring bone. Just as sharp is Kurt's frightened whimper, slicing the air open. They fully expected to be struck. Punished for their clumsiness, their incompetence, their uselessness. They're still expecting it, even as Alpha pleads with them to stop, or they'll hurt themself.
When you're punished for every perceived fault and slight, you learn to behave in ways that appease people. You quickly learn to make yourself meek, to apologize, to not do anything that will further provoke violent punishment, like argue or protest or run or hide or make eye contact. You learn to shut up when told, and to grovel when not. You learn to make yourself a smaller target once the first blow has been dealt.
Corrigan tells them to stop sweeping, so they do. They whimper as he takes their hands—firm, not squeezing, not crushing, just firm—but quickly go still in his grip. Their palms are covered with dust and nettle powder, wet with fallen tears. They keep their head down, staring at their scraped knees, body trembling, throat closing up, lungs not taking air, heart pounding against their ribs.
They keep apologizing. "I'm sorry, please, I d-didn't mean to— I'll clean it all up, I'll fix it, p-please, I'm so sorry."
Naseer can only stare in shock, their panic familiar and devastating in a way he thought he'd long since buried. Seeing that fear and pain reflected in his mate is almost too much to bear. Benji is starting to panic too, reaching for Kai, wide eyes filling with tears and flicking between his brother and his Alpha, not knowing what to do. It's his fault, isn't it? He should fix it, shouldn't he? Why is Kurt saying they'll fix it? It's not their fault!
"It's m-my fault," Kurt whimpers, thoughtlessly reciting all the things they've been taught to say to protect themself, "I'm so stupid, Papa, please, I'm s-sorry—"
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Date: 2023-06-21 03:29 am (UTC)When you're punished for every perceived fault and slight, you learn to behave in ways that appease people. You quickly learn to make yourself meek, to apologize, to not do anything that will further provoke violent punishment, like argue or protest or run or hide or make eye contact. You learn to shut up when told, and to grovel when not. You learn to make yourself a smaller target once the first blow has been dealt.
Corrigan tells them to stop sweeping, so they do. They whimper as he takes their hands—firm, not squeezing, not crushing, just firm—but quickly go still in his grip. Their palms are covered with dust and nettle powder, wet with fallen tears. They keep their head down, staring at their scraped knees, body trembling, throat closing up, lungs not taking air, heart pounding against their ribs.
They keep apologizing. "I'm sorry, please, I d-didn't mean to— I'll clean it all up, I'll fix it, p-please, I'm so sorry."
Naseer can only stare in shock, their panic familiar and devastating in a way he thought he'd long since buried. Seeing that fear and pain reflected in his mate is almost too much to bear. Benji is starting to panic too, reaching for Kai, wide eyes filling with tears and flicking between his brother and his Alpha, not knowing what to do. It's his fault, isn't it? He should fix it, shouldn't he? Why is Kurt saying they'll fix it? It's not their fault!
"It's m-my fault," Kurt whimpers, thoughtlessly reciting all the things they've been taught to say to protect themself, "I'm so stupid, Papa, please, I'm s-sorry—"