[The slap is sharp, like leather strap hitting flesh. But the silence after is deafening.
He throws Alfred a stricken look. Blood pounds in his ears, in his cheek. A bruise in the shape of Alfred’s fingers already staining his skin. But that wounded-child expression on his face lasts only a moment before it warps into something feral, his whole body surging with the desire to make Alfred hurt. His mind whites out – and he lunges from the bed, wild-eyed. Forgetting he can’t bear his own weight. His foot gushes blood under his bandages, loose and floppy and useless. The pain is breathtaking; he buckles instantly, the ground hurtling towards him. He catches himself, just barely, hands and wrists and knees taking the brunt of his fall. One of the crutches leaned up against the bedpost tips over, narrowly missing him.]
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He throws Alfred a stricken look. Blood pounds in his ears, in his cheek. A bruise in the shape of Alfred’s fingers already staining his skin. But that wounded-child expression on his face lasts only a moment before it warps into something feral, his whole body surging with the desire to make Alfred hurt. His mind whites out – and he lunges from the bed, wild-eyed. Forgetting he can’t bear his own weight. His foot gushes blood under his bandages, loose and floppy and useless. The pain is breathtaking; he buckles instantly, the ground hurtling towards him. He catches himself, just barely, hands and wrists and knees taking the brunt of his fall. One of the crutches leaned up against the bedpost tips over, narrowly missing him.]