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Hagan threw him to the ground. He hit it hard, shoulder smarting on the tile flooring. He curled up on his side, arms guarding his head, waiting for his beating. His ankle, legs, back, stomach, chest, and face hurt. Phantom pains from the incident two years ago. He never forgot the touch of their fist and feet on his body. In his nightmares the beatings played over and over. He went months without sleeping afterwards. He was afraid to go to sleep tonight.

His breathing slowed down, the flashback faded, and the pain other than his shoulder faded. He uncurled, searching for Hagan. He didn't see him. He knew he couldn't trust him the first time he saw him. Men that big were always a threat. He needs to watch his back.

[b]Wow, that was anticlimactic. I was hoping for more than that. Guess pissing yourself like a little bitch worked. Good job, Stace.[/b]

[u]You haven't gotten over what happened before? Talk about holding on.[/u] 

Stacey's red eyes looked at his brothers leaning over him. Of course they're back. As soon as he's feeling a little bit better they have to ruin his day. Fuck. He got off the floor, arms wrapped around his waist, and went back to the couch, sunk deep in the seat, his guitar close to him. He still hadn't gotten the feeling back in his fingers and they were shaking too much to play. He laid down, eyes closed, and tried to come down from his panic attack. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep with everyone else around. No telling what they'll do to him. Insomnia is normal from time to time. He'll tough it out for as long as he can.