Search the Community

Their tears fell like early morning rain. Brooklyn on her hands and knees, ashamed that her girlfriend Cleveland had found her like this, wet with her pee. Cleveland on her part, believing that she had insulted her lover and caused her great emotional pain. She rushed to Brooklyn, calling her by her loving nickname. "Brook, I'm so sorry, forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you!!". Brooklyn was sobbing too much to respond. Cleveland picked her up off her hands and brought her into a tight hug. For a while both let out their emotions, the only sound beside their sobs being Cleveland endlessly repeating "I'm sorry". By the end of it, their upper uniforms were as soaked as their lower. Brooklyn was first to speak, "P-please d-don't go Cleve, I c-can explain everything", she managed to stammer out between sniffles. "Brook I'm never going to leave you, I promise" Cleveland responded. "Y-y-you promise?" Brooklyn looked Cleveland in the eyes. "I promise Brook", Cleveland seized her girlfriend's lips in a passionate kiss.

I'd like to get a chapter-ed story out next (not this one), but that means finding enough weekends in a row to write it :) For now, I have this little scene to share. Happy [almost] Halloween! *** “Alright, darlings,” Willa Morgan called to the two teenagers. “We’re off to dinner. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, or you can order a pizza if you’re willing to wait. We should be back before 10.” “Sure, Mom,” 18-year-old Finley responded with a smile, swinging her unrealistically shiny curtain of hair over her shoulders. Hank looked up from his sketchpad. “Could I please play games while you’re gone?” “Sure, sweetie,” Willa replied. “Thanks for asking. I’m sure you can figure out how to get the system working.” Hank thanked Willa and headed back to the den. The cabin was small compared to the Morgan’s massive estate in the city, but it still seemed luxurious to Hank. He liked playing video games – the focus and lack of any real-world implications was relaxing – but he knew that Willa and Geoff preferred to limit video games during “family time.” Back in the kitchen, Willa and Geoff kissed their daughter goodbye and headed out. The cabin was fairly remote, and the closet acceptable restaurant for date night was a half-hour drive away, but they didn’t have any hesitation with leaving the two teens alone at the cabin. Well, barely any hesitation. When Willa had proposed going out the night before, Geoff had questioned whether or not they should stay with Hank. After all, the 15-year-old had only lived with them for a month, and this was the first trip to the cabin they’d taken as a family. The trip had been Geoff’s idea. He’d wanted to give them all a chance to bond and relax before the new school year started. He thought the quiet and relative simplicity of a week out in the country would be helpful for Hank’s transition. To be honest, the Morgans didn’t know a whole lot about Hank’s life before he’d come to live with them. Even the social worker didn’t seem to know. They knew he was originally from a few states over and that he’d been bounced around among various family members, but none of his living situations were what could reasonably be called “healthy.” Willa and Geoff had heard about drugs, alcohol, and neglect, though, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, there had never been any physical or sexual abuse. Through a series of lucky connections and one very concerned teacher, Hank had been placed in the foster care system and ended up moving a few hundred miles away. Willa and Geoff had been looking into fostering for several years. They’d only had one child and wanted to be able to share their considerable wealth, but they knew bringing a disadvantaged child into a completely new environment wasn’t a simple procedure. Willa and Geoff both worked, so they knew they were not equipped to take in a child with substantial supervision or personal care needs. Luckily, and more than a little surprisingly, Hank seemed to be remarkably well-adjusted. He was mature and whip-smart, the kind of smart that seemed out-of-place coming from a kid with dingy, tattered clothes and raggedy hair. The Morgans had provided a haircut and updated wardrobe, and Hank had responded with nothing but politeness and good behavior. He smiled easily and responded readily in family conversations. Willa and Geoff counted themselves very lucky. Now, out at the old but well-kept family cabin, Hank was settled in the den in the back, while Finley remained in the kitchen, engrossed with her phone. Finley wasn’t unkind, but she had the kind of embedded self-centeredness that came with being the beautiful only child of rich parents, despite Willa and Geoff’s attempts to keep from spoiling her. She didn’t enjoy the cabin as much as she used to, and now, a half hour after he parents left, she was bored. Her parents had explicitly told her to stay with Hank, right? He was 15. He’d be fine if she ran out to meet up with some friends. Finley had already made her decision before she knocked gently on the slightly-ajar door to the den. Hank’s eyes flickered over to his glamourous foster sister before refocusing on the campaign. “Hey, Fin,” he greeted her. Finley smiled. She really did like the quiet new addition to their family. She knew some of her friends’ younger brothers, so she was well aware that 15-year-old boys were not, as a group, all polite and unobtrusive. “Hey, kid,” she replied. “I’m gonna run out and meet some friends for dinner. I won’t be gone long. Is that OK?” “Mmm-hmm,” Hank mumbled, his eyes locked on the screen. He knew that Finley was asking him something, but she didn’t seem to be asking him to do anything, so he didn’t put too much thought into assenting. He and Finley didn’t talk much, so he didn’t feel badly about keeping his attention on his game. Likewise, Finley wasn’t really concerned with Hank’s inattentive response. She’d done her job – alerted the young man that she’d be gone – and she’d be back well before her parents, anyway. She grinned at Hank before walking out, shutting the door behind her. Hank didn’t really hear the door shut. He definitely didn’t hear the rattle of the old, loose lock clicking into place. The cabin was several decades old, and the den in the back of the house had been the last on the list for updates. The knob was loose and creaky, and if the door was shut even a little bit too hard, the lock would fall into place, effectively trapping anyone who happened to be in the den. But Hank didn’t know that. He barely even registered that Finley was gone. All he knew is that he was nearly finished with the current mission. He adjusted his position on the floor. He realized he had to pee, as he usually did around this time of night, and he was getting hungry. He decided he’d finish the mission, save, and then get up to go to the bathroom and get something for dinner. Hank squirmed a bit as he finished the mission, pressing his knees together. He saved his progress and turned off the TV, stretching a bit as he rose from the floor. For the first time, he noticed how quiet it seemed. The cabin didn’t have any of the typical traffic and human sounds as the city, anyway, but without the noise from his game, the silence of the house seemed palpable. Hank’s brow furrowed as he reached for the door. But the knob wouldn’t turn. Hank frowned, stepping in closer. He gripped the doorknob harder, but it wouldn’t budge. He jiggled the knob, and it rattled in his hand, but still wouldn’t turn. Hank felt himself starting to sweat. “Fin?” he called. No answer. He tried again, louder. “Fin? Can you help me?” Silence. Hank dropped his hand from the door. He tried to convince himself that there was a logical explanation for the silence…and the locked door…and the apparently empty house… It’s fine he told himself. Willa and Geoff are at dinner. Fin probably just has her headphones in or something. He stepped back from the door, unsure of how to proceed. He had to pee, and he was pretty hungry, but he could wait awhile. He slumped back on the floor and turned on the TV. After another half hour, he turned it off again, listening for any sounds of movement outside the den. The quiet of the cabin was making him nervous, and he could hear a rumble of thunder in the distance. He stood and looked out the window; he could see dark storm clouds rolling in, obscuring the evening summer sun. Hank’s face fell. The storm looked bad. It’s not that he was afraid of storms, but he could tell it was going to be loud and nasty, and he really wasn’t sure if the den was the safest place to be in the cabin. The Morgans had given him a cell phone, but he still wasn’t used to keeping it on his person at all times, so it was somewhere on the other side of the locked door. He walked back over to the door. He tried the doorknob again, already knowing the futility of the attempt. “Finley?” he yelled. No answer. “Willa? Geoff?” Silence. Hank felt his stomach drop. The nerves were accompanied by a surge in his bladder that necessitated a squeeze of his thighs. “Finley?” he repeated, but much quieter. He stepped backward into the den, fighting despondency. No one was coming. No one was home. Hank blinked rapidly. The rain started outside, and he slid down onto the couch. It’s fine, he thought. I can handle this. He felt a familiar emptiness in his chest as he sat in the empty room. He was alone. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been left alone – dropped off at some new house, not picked up after school, or, just like now, flat-out being left behind in a house by himself. Hank breathed deeply as the minutes passed. Some small, logical part of his brain tried to say that there was a rational explanation, that the Morgans really wouldn’t take him out to a cabin just to abandon him. But Hank had been left behind far too many times to allow that part any purchase. He was 15, he was alone, he was trapped, there was a big storm approaching, he was hungry, and he really had to pee. Inhaling sharply, Hank pressed his hand between his legs. He’d already had to go, and the increase in anxiety only served to make his need all the more intense. The storm intensified outside. Hank could hear the rain lashing against the block glass windows high on the wall. Hank knew he should calm down, but he hadn’t been able to release his grip on his dick. He felt overwhelmed, almost lightheaded. He looked around the room for anywhere he could relieve himself without making a mess, but there were no waste bins or even empty water bottles. A hot leak sprung against Hank’s hand, and he doubled over. He couldn’t remember ever having to pee so badly, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. Slowly, Hank rose to his feet and made his way over to the far wall, off of the area rug. The old hardwood floors were a bit warped with age, but he figured hard floors would be easier to clean than the couch or the rug. If he ever got out of here, that is. Hank peed a little more as he moved, and his breath caught in his throat. Without looking, he knew there would be a visible stain on his shorts. It should have been the least of his concerns, what with being abandoned and locked in a room and all, but the immediacy of excretory desperation had a way of overtaking all other thoughts. Sliding down against the wall, Hank wet even more. He was vibrating with fear and the physical effort of holding, and he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around the fact that he was about to have an accident in his pants. A bolt of lightning lit the den, accompanied by a deafening clap of thunder. Hank gasped and jerked, finally losing his last shred of control. Urine began to flow through his shorts, rapidly expanding the existing stain between his legs. Hank shuddered with failure and fear, repressed sobs shaking his body. His stream of piss surged and waned with each heave of his torso, cruelly mimicking his silent, uneven cries. But still no tears fell from his eyes. He was scared and alone, but he wouldn’t cry. He’d been here before. Well, not having an accident – not for many years, anyway – but alone in a house with no one to help or take care of him. Hank kept wetting, soaking through every inch of the fabric of his underwear and shorts. A warm puddle grew from his butt out past his shoes, pooling oddly on the old, warped floorboards. Another crash of thunder seemed to shake the cabin. Hank was still wetting himself, pee trickling in multiple streams through his drenched underwear and onto the floor. He leaned against the wall, unable to support himself, even in a sitting position. His stream finally tapered off, leaving him with saturated shorts sticking to his thighs and a long puddle underneath him that rippled with each tremor of his body. Hank stared past his knees, his gaze unfocused. The storm drifted past the cabin, and the sound of thunder gradually diminished, but Hank still couldn’t bring himself to move. He was exhausted from worry and trying to hold it, and he didn’t want to think of what he’d have to do now that the Morgans had abandoned him. His shorts cooled and chafed against his legs, and his thoughts swam with ineffectual attempts to convince himself that it was all no big deal. It was just another family that didn’t want him. He didn’t know how long he sat there. The sounds of the storm faded, but sunlight didn’t return, indicating that it was at least after 9. Just as Hank was about to doze off, he heard voices. He blinked rapidly, heart in his throat. “…here, honey?” Willa’s voice sounded mildly concerned as she came down the hallway toward the den. “Willa!” Hank’s voice caught as he called for his foster mother, delirious with confusion and relief. “Willa!” “Hank?” Willa was definitely concerned now. She reached for the den door, and, seeing it shut, guessed what must have happened. With Geoff at her side, she twisted the old lock just so, and the door sprung open. Hank gasped at the sight of his foster parents. He felt like the ever-tightening band of fear wrapped around his chest had snapped, and he choked with relief. He scrambled to his feet, clumsy and gangly, as Willa and Geoff hurried across the room. Willa wrapped her arms around the distraught teen, and Geoff embraced them both. Before she could open her mouth to ask what had happened, Hank let out a keening sob. “You left me!!” he wailed, the words straining against his throat. “Y-you le-ahhhhhh!” Words failed him, and he sagged against the embrace of the Morgans. Willa and Geoff shared a horrified look. In just seconds, they’d figured out that Finley was gone, and Hank had somehow gotten locked in the den. Neither of them had expected the sheer betrayal and anxiety on the teen’s face, though. Willa opened her mouth to correct him, but Geoff spoke first. “We’re so sorry, Hank,” he said gently. “We shouldn’t have left you for so long. We’re here now. It’s OK, I promise.” Hank continued to weep, his face buried against Willa’s shoulder. It had been so long since someone had actually come back for him, since someone leaving didn’t mean them leaving for good. He’d spent the past two hours trying to convince himself that he didn’t care about the Morgans, and especially didn’t care that they didn’t care about him, but seeing Willa and Geoff burst into the den had shattered that delusion. He did care about them, and he desperately didn’t want them to leave him behind. Seeing them left him breathless with relief, a feeling only demonstrable through his current breakdown. Willa and Geoff shared a look over the crying teen’s head and came to the mutual decision that they’d get the full story later. The only important matter at the moment was comforting Hank. “Mom?” Finley’s voice echoed down the hallway. She’d heard Hank’s cries as soon as she walked in the front door and had hurried to the den. Willa raised an eyebrow at her daughter, who paled seeing the emotional tableau in the middle of the room. “Hank…” Finley stammered. “Mom, I…” She took a step forward and sighed. “Hank, I’m so sorry,” Finley apologized, genuinely remorseful. “I didn’t mean to be gone for that long, I swear.” Geoff and Willa both started at the girl, silently demanding an explanation. “I ran out with friends to get dinner,” Finley continued. “I told Hank I was leaving, but,” she continued quickly, seeing her parents stiffen at any implication that Hank was at fault, “he was playing his game, I don’t think he heard me. I wasn’t going to be out long, but then the storm came, and there was a tree across the road, a bunch of trees down, and it took me forever to get back!” Willa sighed, stroking Hank’s hair as the teen cried. She knew her daughter didn’t mean any harm, and they’d been meaning to fix the door to the den for ages. It was an unfortunate series of circumstances, but not really anyone’s fault. “I’m so sorry, Hank,” Finley repeated. Seeing someone so close to her own age sobbing and obviously having had an accident was unnerving, and she felt terrible for putting him in that position. Hank whimpered, but didn’t look up. He was grateful for Fin’s apology, but she was still a beautiful girl, and he didn’t want to make eye contact with a beautiful girl while soaked in his own pee. Besides, he was still shaky and uneasy, and he wanted to stay in Willa’s arms a bit longer. “Fin, honey, why don’t you go make Hank a snack?” Geoff suggested, knowing that neither Hank nor Finley would benefit from her continued presence in the room. Finley nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave but still be useful. Willa kept combing her fingers through Hank’s hair, murmuring assurances, while Geoff kept his arms around both of them. Hank’s sobs dwindled into whimpers, until finally, the tears stopped, like the storm passing away from the cabin and into the distance. “Hank, honey?” Willa murmured when the boy quieted. “Do you want to go get changed?” Hank’s stomach lurched. He’d known, obviously, that there was no way Willa and Geoff could have missed the evidence of his accident, but this first vocal acknowledgement that he’d wet himself was still jarring. He straightened, eyes shining. “I’m sorry,” he squeaked, voice raw and small. “I…I couldn’t get to the bathroom.” “It’s fine, Hank,” Geoff reassured him. “It’s not your fault.” “I didn’t hear Fin say she was leaving,” Hank rambled. “Or I wasn’t paying attention, and I didn’t have my phone, and the door was locked, and no one was here, and-“ “Hank, it’s OK,” Geoff hugged the boy tightly. “It’s all going to be OK.” Hank trembled. He believed Geoff – believed all of them, all of their apologies and reassurances – but he was so tired. He’d spent so long doing everything he could to be unemotional, to take care of himself and not be any burden to whoever he happened to be living with at the time. The events of the past few hours – the storm, the fear, the accident, and the reunion – had dragged him through a maelstrom of emotions that he couldn’t handle, even with his years of practice. “Go get cleaned up, sweetheart,” Willa encouraged softly. Nodding morosely, Hank shuffled out of the den. His shorts were no longer dripping, but they were heavy and uncomfortable between his legs. He was exhausted and shaky, and he didn’t know what to expect now. He collected his pajamas from his room and trudged to the bathroom. Peeling off his soiled clothes, Hank couldn’t put together a coherent thought. He almost felt like he was in a dream, where events were disconnected and time moved strangely. Back in his room, Hank was unsure of what to do with his wet clothes. He had a hamper, but he knew better than to put such soiled things in a closed container. “I’ll take those, sweetie.” Hank looked up to see Willa and Geoff standing in the doorway. Willa held out her hand, and Hank cringed as he passed over his pissed-in shorts and underwear. Willa quickly took the clothes to the laundry room before returning. “Hank, we’re so sorry,” Geoff started. He and Willa stood just inside the doorway and to the left, not wanting to intrude on Hank’s space. Hank stood against his bed, fidgeting awkwardly. “Hank,” Willa asked. “Honey, did you think we’d left you for good?” Hank blinked, ashamed of the tears that had gathered in his eyes. After a moment, he shrugged. “That’s what happens to me,” he whispered. Willa let out a soft, sad sigh. Geoff stepped forward to place a reassuring hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Not here, Hank,” Geoff promised. “We knew what we were doing when we asked you to come live with us. We’re not going to leave you.” Hank ducked his head. He felt so stupid. “I-“ he stammered. “I don’t think you’re bad people,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just…” He looked up, pleading. “No one was here,” he went on. “I was scared and I couldn’t help thinking that you weren’t coming back.” Dropping his eyes again, Hank’s voice lowered. “Everyone else didn’t come back.” Willa stepped forward, and she and Geoff wrapped the boy in a tight hug. “Of course, sweetheart,” she soothed. “Of course we understand that you would think that, and we’re sorry that you did. We’re all going to try to be a lot better about making sure you never have cause to think that again.” Hank nodded, too overcome to speak. He was comforted, but still tired from the terrible events of the evening. Geoff rubbed Hank’s back, recognizing the boy’s exhaustion. “Do you want something to eat, bud?” Still quiet, Hank shook his head, suppressing a yawn. “OK, honey,” Willa said, kissing his forehead. “We’ll let you get some sleep. Let us know if you need anything.” She and Geoff hugged Hank one last time, then turned to go. “Can-“ The adults turned around at the sound of Hank’s soft, stammering plea. “Can you leave the door open, please?” “Of course, sweetheart,” Willa promised. She gave her foster son one last smile before leaving him to sleep.