Sleep Tight

Sleep Tight

Zelnard couldn't help but smile during the morning lesson, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the previous night.

Dunstor had barged into his and Jabar's room, as he often did, kicking the door wide open and shouting,

"Time for sleep, baby boys!"

His voice echoed through the stone corridors, waking not only Zelnard and Jabar, but boys in several neighbouring rooms as well.

Dunstor, always a few years older than Zelnard's cohort, seemed enormous to the younger boys. His broad shoulders and growing muscles made him an intimidating figure, but it was the cruel streak hidden behind his grin that made him truly frightening.

He strode confidently between the two narrow wooden beds, pretending to play the part of a caring older student.

"Let's tuck you in properly," he said sweetly.

Instead of kindness, however, he forced the heavy wool blankets tightly around the boys, tucking the edges so deeply beneath the mattresses that their own body weight held them firmly in place.

The blankets pressed down across their chests and arms until every breath became shallow and uncomfortable. Neither boy could move. They were too startled and too frightened to fight back, something entirely unlike Zelnard, who usually found the courage to resist.

Then came Dunstor's favourite part.

Beginning with what almost felt like friendly pats, he slapped each of them across the face again and again, each strike growing harder than the last until the playful taps became sharp, stinging blows.

His grin stretched impossibly wide.

In an exaggerated falsetto voice he chirped,

"Night night, children!"

The false affection in his voice somehow made the moment even crueler. For boys who had grown up without the comfort of loving parents nearby, his mock tenderness felt like another weapon.

Dunstor swaggered from the room, deliberately leaving the door slightly open so the cold night air drifted through the room while long shadows stretched across the floor.

Silence returned.

Only the strained breathing of the two boys disturbed the darkness as the tightly tucked blankets continued pressing against their chests.

"I hate that boy," Zelnard whispered at last.

His voice was little more than a strained breath as he struggled to draw air into his restricted lungs. Hidden beneath the blankets, his fists clenched tightly while the sting on his cheek pulsed with helpless anger.

Jabar shifted carefully, wincing as the soreness spread across his own face.

He waited until Dunstor's heavy footsteps had completely disappeared before answering.

"Me too."

The two simple words carried the weight of months of insults, fear, humiliation, and casual cruelty.

Even now the stale smell of Dunstor's sweat and unwashed tunic seemed to linger in the room long after he had gone.

Jabar stared at the dark ceiling.

"He's going to pay for this one day, Z."

He paused before speaking again.

"He has to."

Another long silence settled over the room.

"This time..." Jabar whispered.

"...this time was too much."

Thy Quests
Why do you think this episode became the breaking point for Zelnard and Jabar? Write a paragraph explaining why this moment felt different from all the bullying that had come before.