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The Show Must Go On

Summary:

Newt was moved to The Glade High, Oregon in what would've been Year 10 in Britain, his past has been traumatic and his parents' business trips going long, he relies mostly on his friends and sister for comfort. He explores the world of teenage relationships and PTSD as he tries to live a normal teenage life in High School.
Thomas' father had never been a permanent figure in his mind, the only full memory of him in his mind was his death which came with the full running down the street whilst being shot at experience. He can't deny his past but he can make sure that his Father doesn't become the definition of his future.
Minho's not the most traumatised of all his friends, sure he can't fully be gay and polyamorous in his own home, but he still has a loving fmily and can successfully claim he's bilingual. He loves sport but also wants to study the science behind it, he makes it an escape for the arguing that goes on at home.
All need someone to rely on with their 'baggage' and they all need the stability that is a normal life.

|| DISCONTINUED ||

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: The Start of Something New

Summary:

Trigger Warning
Rape
Sexual Abuse
Depression
PTSD
Suicide Attempts
Do not read if you’re sensitive to these topics. Italics represent past events, diary entries/letters will start with dear/ to .

Newt contemplates his past before the first day of Junior year.

Notes:

The chapters won't all be this dark so don't be alarmed, I'm actually quite a morbid person, I had some ideas that would've been very graphic and horrific since I'm a big fan of horror and gore. Also, I was going to put these events into two chapters but I wanted to get the sensitive topics out of the way. I'm going to put a timeline of Newt's past in the end notes if anyone is confused. I did a load of research on American Highschools and life in an American Highschool to make this story accurate for you. I usually find a way to make all the characters be in a British Highschools but I decided to give myself a mini project.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Sky had always interested Newt, he always craved a skill of art to paint the sky but he could only gaze at the endless abyss of gentle blue. Today was the last day of summer, it took him a while to adjust to the entire three months of pure summer break but since this was his third summer here in America, he was now used to it; all of his friends had been quiet today. None of them messaged him, he didn't exactly mind, for the two years he'd known the gang of outcasts he'd noticed a pattern of them not talking on the last few days of the summer. Possibly to take a break, that was the more logical answer of the many that clustered his already crowded head.

The sky was littered with white wisps of clouds that lined the sky, they opened up to the bitter air, it tiptoed against his cheeks and gave him the reminder of the last spring he had in the UK. Usually Newt associated spring with the smell of daffodils and long hikes that his family insisted on going after an especially long week of working.

But despite these happy memories, their infrequent appearance throughout his past have shaped and caused the problems in his present life. He was currently seated on a small bench that usually populated a crop of elderly people who played a slow game of bowls along the vibrant, well kept greens of the hill. Inside his hand he clutched a leather bound book.

Red.

Worn.

Inside it’s crisp yellow sepia pages were the imprinted pencil letters written to no-one in particular. This book contained the most important letters that Newt would ever write. This letter held the secret to Newt’s mysterious limp that had been only described as an ‘intentional accident’. This a5 book held the information that hurt Newt too much to say.

There was a letter in this book that told the story of his sexual abuse and his suicide attempt. His internal monologue switched to narrative when he started to retell the biography of the part of his life that had been the worst.

For the entirety of his teenage years in England, there had always been a deep sense of unease that had eventually settled a few months after his uncle Steven had moved in. The man was in his late thirties and had a head of rich brown hair covering his head; his complection was simple no-one would suspect him to do such a thing. Not him. Not a man so trustworthy. Not a man so easily stereotyped as a normal or exceptable. 

It had all started to happen when Newt had recently turned thirteen and was sitting in his room trying to learn a few chords on his guitar when a figure appeared in the doorway. Steven was the only one in that day, he’d picked Newt up from school as a surprise, Newt had realised Steven’s actions had become strange of late but this day was a marker in his mind that the sexual abuse had started. 

Steven had sat down behind Newt and gently curved his cracked fingers over Newt’s, guiding the young boys to the correct position on the acoustic guitar that the boy had been gifted a few weeks before. The act would’ve been deemed normal if this was a person Newt’s age but only thought going in his head was the fact that this was his uncle. This man was a 39 year old man. He’s not meant to be doing this, Newt lowered his hands to place the guitar on it’s stand across the room. 

His mistake.

Steven’s foot had crept around his waist anchoring him to the bed as Newt became aware of the severity of the situation. After struggling briefly he tuned into the fact that his uncle’s trousers were sticking into his back. He’d listened in year seven biology, he knew an erection when he felt one.

This was serious, it didn’t go much further from there but he remembered the feeling of a hand slowly pushing past Newt’s jeans and underwear. The gentle stroke across the boy’s dick had been established, a small whine had loudly brushed past his ear as the looming presence eased of the bed and downstairs to start dinner.

That was the beginning of a eighteen month’s worth of abuse, it gradually got worse until the day that Newt found himself under his uncle naked and non consensual. 

Rape.

That’s all he’s say about the year’s worth of full sex he’d experienced. 

Sometimes Steven would say things such as

”This is out little secret,”

”You should feel honoured,” 

“You should be used to this by now,” 

Other times he had been more rough saying, ”Take it like a man,” or “You’re pathetic, only I could ever want to have sex with you, your lucky I’m the only person crazy enough to get turned on by only you,”. A few times he would say he was making Newt “Nice and straight, acceptable for your parents,”. Sometimes Steven wouldn’t use his words, just grunts or even slaps to make sure that Newt was looking the right way. 

For the days between sessions Steven moved his place next to Newt at the crowded dinner table and sat closer to him when watching TV when he wasn’t sending looks that said “I’m undressing my nephew mentally,”. Steven usually held exceptionally rough sessions when Sonya was at sleepovers or on trips with school and the children’s parents were on business trips. It was on one of these nights that his parents had found out. 

They’d come home a night early at 10 o’clock to hear grunts, obviously they assumed that Steven had a date and had gotten to the active part of the date.

”He could’ve waited until later to have sex, at this rate he’ll wake up Newt,” his Mum said, she knew her brother and had been woken up by her brother’s dates before.

”Let’s just knock on and tell him to keep it down, alright? I’ll go to see if Newt is awake,” Newt’s Dad suggested unaware that his son would not be in his bed. After checking the small room a few paces away, Newt’s Dad returned with a face full of shock. “Newt’s not there Alice,”

”Jack, what do you mean he’s not there, where could he be?” The concept hadn’t crossed her mind that her acceptable brother would be raping her son in the room she was standing outside. 

From inside the room came a small yell as if someone was trying to escape some hellish situation, the two adults stared at each other, the impossible idea crossing their mind. 

“He’s probably on the toilet, let’s go and shut my brother up,” Alice whispers at her equally concerned husband. 

The sight they found was horrific, they didn’t believe it was their fourteen year old son under Steven. They didn’t believe it when Newt looked disgusted in himself because of his situation.

When the police came and gave a statement, they took the shock and told Newt that it was a good thing that they were moving to America in six months. 


The six months had bee both long and short, the court cases and therapy had seemed long winded but with it he had met a social worker who defied the expectations and made sure that Newt was friends with her, that Newt actually trusted and liked his Social Worker. Ava Paige had introduced herself a few days after the initial incident as a social worker who worked for WCKD social care. She doubled up as a therapist and a Social Worker, she had been a great help with the court case, to guarantee that Steven wouldn't be going near Newt for a long while. Also, she was hired by Newt's parents especially because she lived in the same town that they were moving to in seven months. Newt was surprised that her skills had been of the upmost quality, he'd half expected his parents to not get the best care for Newt and use this therapist as an excuse to just know a person in this new country. With her she had brought a girl under her care- Teresa Agnes- a girl who would become a micro therapist within herself. 

Teresa Agnes had in the beginning seemed quiet she didn’t talk to Newt about much but school and why she was under the care of Ava; after a while though she began to tell Newt about her crazy friends. There was Thomas another person who Ava was helping; Minho, the sport maniac who was 'filled to the brim with sass'; Alby, the older grandpa type character who knew them all through Ava; there was also a few others who Newt would still come to love. She had helped Newt to adjust to the fact that he would be moving to a town called Redwood in Oregon where he was moving to for his parents work and a new start, also it was obvious that she had learned a few tips from Ava on how to treat a victim of a troubled past. Teresa would also tell Newt about how her mother was ill in hospital and had been put under the permanent care of Ava. There had been times when Newt had had a collective weeping session when Teresa was having an especially bad day. 

The move was a fact that seemed good and bad, on the upside he would just be Newt Parkins a fifteen year old boy going into Freshman year in highschool not Newt Parkins the boy who was sexually abused by his uncle. The downside was that he would be leaving behind his two closest friends Willow and Adialh, the pair of girls had been the biggest help other than Teresa who was on a really long summer holiday to Newt- according to him at that age. 

Nightmares still plagued his dreams and he’d wake up not wanting to be touched until he’d had a full shower that morning. Luckily, the house was slowly being packed up for the move so he didn’t have to be reminded of the horrible eighteen months he’s had. Over his last few months in Year Nine he had been gradually fitting the mould of a stereotypical PTSD victim, he had been excused from P.E but the teachers used the excuse that Newt wasn't in a fit condition to do physical activity. He didn't mind not doing P.E, he could still go to Athletics on Thursdays, he wouldn't have to get changed in front of people there. Sometimes he hated his PTSD for making him feel sick when looking at himself but also the PTSD had shone a light on the depression that he realised had always been in his life. Over the next few months Newt would barely be able to get out of bed which he blamed on not wanting to go to a school that he was leaving soon anyway, this resulted in him running to school and just arriving at form on the bell.

But despite all the excuses, he couldn't deny the fact that he was lacking motivation in all departments of life, he didn't see the point of remaining any relationships if he was going to die anyway; this wasn't all he couldn't see why anyone could possibly withstand his presence, he didn't want to explain this to Ava, he was already a burden to her with his complex PTSD- he wasn't prepared to add more of a load to her work. The days began to get longer, school seemed pointless and he didn't want to hang out with his friends because he knew that he'd be leaving the school in a few weeks; when the end of year parties came along he didn't really celebrate, just sat and ate the sandwiches someone's family had made. They tasted bland and he wasn't concentrating on them as he was writing a letter to capture his empty feeling, to try and prevent it effecting him for a brief amount of time. He was thankful that the summer holidays had finally arrived so that he could rid his family of his PTSD, the nightmares and his all round trouble some life of late. He spent the nights planning how he would die without his family having to see the after effects of his suicide. 

Remembering this now Newt thought that his process of thinking was obviously flawed but he didn't have the demons interfering with his decision making as much now as he did then, sure he still suffered from depression but he now had ways of dealing most days, but of course there were still 'dark days' when he couldn't make the dark thoughts go away. Slowly stepping away from the bench, he gradually walked down the hill, it was steep and filled with a fresh green colour that would tickle the toes on hot days without shoes on. The streets were littered with all sorts of people, most of which looked like they had just come from a hike, who didn't seem to notice the boy but why would they? They didn't know the boy and were busy on their own errands, busy with their lives. 

After ten minutes of walking, Newt reached a small coffee shop that he and his friends all hung out at. He got a flat white and sat at a tall table by the large windows that showed the outside world. Flicking through his red book, the pages rebelled against his demands by returning to the pages of letters which he thought were going to be his last. Drops of blood bordered the crisp edges, the act of flipping backwards caused his mind to go back to that dark time. He just wanted to write a letter to empty his mind of the bad things, so he could start the school year on good terms. Like a time machine his mind wondered back to the early summer of 2013.


The day was a Saturday, warm and hopeful, the antonym of Newt’s emotions at the moment. He was sick of feeling empty and fed up of the endless darkness that had held him down for the better part of a year. Watching a movie, he passed his family, they looked up and waved as he walked to the door. Just as he was escaping his mother called through the open living room door:

”When will you be back, sweetie?” 

Newt racked his brain for a lie, that’s just one of an ocean full of reasons why this world was better off without him- Steven had definitely contributed to his already fucked up mind. 

“I’ll call you when I’m on the way back home, Mum,” He’d lied between his teeth directly to his mother...

 

 

It was a short walk to the bus stop, the slight heat hit his cheeks making him flush red as he struggled to remember how to walk. 

As he stepped onto the bus, he payed his fee and took a seat in the middle of the bus-the least suspicious place to sit. It would be a long ride, 45 minutes at best to get to his location. An abandoned car parking block, six stories high.  His shaking hands brought out the  pocket sized book he wrote in frequently, with it a pencil was tied, he was going to tackle his doubts head on and a pencil was his weapon. Slowly the bus started to pick up but Newt remained oblivious to them all as his hand wrote thoughts such as:

”I feel like a creature has been crawling on my back for months, feeding on my happiness like a dementor.”

”I’m done caring,”

”I’m giving up, it’s what I do best, I stopped fighting the man who was trying to rape me, this is less complex and I’m still giving in’”

The bus stopped rolling and once Newt looked up he remembered that this was his stop, sprinting to get off, he sped away from the prying eyes of the bus. From the bus stop it was only about a 15 minute walk to the future place of his suicide. 

It stood tall up ahead and looked decrepit, over grown with leaves and ivy it appeared to sustain an entire eco system if its own. The steps inside had been worn away with age since thousands of feet would’ve walked Newt’s at this moment. A few floors up and he no longer had to concentrate on seeing as the powerful light from above lit the stairs and walls encasing him. When he stepped on the tarmac, he could still see the faint remains of white car parking spaces painted on the ground. The edge was rimmed with a half a metre high wall that seemed like a poor attempt at stopping acts like this. He climbed up on the thick wall and began to become dizzy at the sight of the drop. 

“Don’t jump!” A small voice seemed to come from the far away land below. “You have so much to live for!” 

These words barely took any effect on Newt, they seemed so generic, plastic. He did not know this person, his death would male no difference to their life or daily routine. 

“Great, we’re all bloody inspired,” were the words that slipped past his lips before he let himself go. Clutching the thick notebook in his hand he gained speed before his left foot smacked against one of the walls, pushing it into a strange position before he blacked out because on impact.


 It must have been a good few days before he woke up. The first sound he heard that made him sure he’d failed was the sound of crying. His father. His sister. His mother... 

A bright light shone in his eyes as gasps filled the room.

”You’re awake! You’re alive! Sweetie, you’re alive!” That was the first thing his mother said to him, thanks for reminding me of my failure he thought.  

He’d gotten away with a few factures to the ribs that were supposed to heal over a few weeks; the major injury had been his leg. Snapped in four places, it was going to heal in a funny way because of how they found it, amputation wasn’t an option so physiotherapy was his only option in recovery after his leg had healed. That was supposed to take around 3 weeks and another month for the physiotherapy, he would be finished with the weekly physiotherapy a week before the main move to Redwood. 

Ava looked just as destraut as his family when she entered, tears lined her eyes. She arranged therapy meetings twice a week and took his book to get an idea on what had been going through his mind. 

His physical recovery was the quickest part of the situation, Newt was flying through the exercises and was told that heonly needed to see a physiotherapist once a month in America. But his leg would never be the same so to aid his permanent limp they had given him a walking stick to use. He would have to make an excuse but he would postpone that until he saw Teresa again.


 His coffee was now cold, Newt had been staring into space for long enough that his coffee had been left to cool. A minute community of people had begun to collect in the cosy café and sent sharp looks in his direction, after all he had sat down and stared into space for at least five minutes. He gulped down some of the drink before he began to walk back to the suburban streets he called home. Surprisingly the physiotherapist had said that he would be able to walk long distances in due time, he just had to rest his leg a lot when he started school again. As he stepped into the cold autumn air, a thin white wire began to hang out of his pocket begging to be used, he plugged in the earphones and shoved them in his ears. Often when Newt lacked motivation he found himself being drawn to Fleetwood Mac, despite being classed as an 'old' band they never failed to lift his spirits. Stevie Nicks was a torch that lit up the dark caverns of his mind.

Today his mind was determined to stumble back to the hardest days of his life, his start to the year was about three weeks delayed as they had to settle in and make sure that Newt was doing alright (there was a lot of that). When he finally started school he sat next to Teresa wherever he could but he settled to sit by Thomas or Minho if Teresa wasn't available. Luckily, he got along with most of them and he gradually trusted them enough to tell them the real reason why he had his limp and told them what his book was for, they all looked shocked when he told them he's made himself seem like a snarky person who just loved sarcasm. That conversation was held on top of the hill that would eventually be classed as their hang out. They weren’t as patronising as Newt expected, probably because they’d had temporary friends with worse cases than him. One of the things that really showed Newt that they cared was the fact that they concentrated on his guitar skill more than anything, begging to hear him but unfortunately he would always get a flashback to the days where Steven would pick up his stupid teenage band after school. His new friends would've seen past the fact that Steven would always act positive towards newt no matter what he did.  

Despite this though, it had only been recently that he told them about the abuse, this was the main thing that Newt felt scared about. It was one thing to tell them about suicide but it was another to add sexual abuse to the load. They still treated him the same, he was thankful for that.

When he came to his house, he found his Mum doing bills like the organised woman that she is, she was always ahead  of time. His Dad was doing some gardening and his sister was on FaceTime with some British friends. He went upstairs to have a nap, feeling a bit more content with today, he knew that dinner would be started soon but he just needed some shuteye.

Just for now.

Notes:

Newt was 13 when the sexual harassment and abuse started and almost 15 when he attempted suicide.