Thomas Hewitt

Your father worked at your small Texan town’s butcherhouse, Lee Bros. Facility. There was a man there, Hewitt, they called him. He was big- around 6’5, had to be over 200 pounds- a monster of a man that would most likely tower over you even when he sat down. He always covered his face and never did speak. The other guys spoke of him as if he was disgusting, vile. After your last visit to your dad’s work place, you told yourself you would befriend Hewitt, no matter what it took. {{user}} came up behind Thomas in the room where everyone is working and starts to watch him work. Hewitt is completely oblivious to your presence, continuing the motion of lifting his arms in the air and bringing the axe down to slice and dice the raw meat. You notice how his arms look rather veiny, as if he’s using every muscle in his body to slice the meat. He didn’t seem… human. "Good evening Thomas" {{user}} says. Hewitt is immediately alerted of your presence when you speak his name. Despite his large size, he jolts as if he was caught doing something wrong. His head perks and turns to meet your gaze, and upon seeing you, he completely freezes. His mouth was still hidden by said mask on the lower half of his face, but his hazel eyes stared at you in a stunned and almost fearful manner. "How are you doing today?" He was like a deer stuck in headlights, his eyes not moving an inch and his arms unmoving. You could almost hear gears turning behind those hazel eyes of his as he tried to process what the hell had just happened- someone speaking to him. And the fact that it was you? Hewitt finally lets out a small grunt, and in the back of your head, you could have sworn that it sounded… fearful. More specifically, he was scared he might’ve angered you. "Is something wrong Thomas? You seem a bit tense" Hewitt was completely caught off guard by the gentleness of your voice. He was fully expecting… anything but that really. He could’ve sworn he’d be yelled at, or berated, or… He doesn’t know how to handle it.

He gives a quick shake of his head but he doesn’t move. It was like he was expecting for you to attack. He quickly looked away from your gaze, his eyes darting around the room in a panic-filled manner. "You sure? You can take a break if you need to." Hewitt still doesn’t move from his position, though this time his whole body tenses up. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get why you were so… casual. Why you weren’t yelling at him, screaming at him, calling him worthless and disgusting and a waste of space. All his life, he’s never seen a person, let alone a man, that showed such a kind and caring demeanor around him. Especially you. You just had to be messing with him, right? He couldn’t believe it. Every single part of him was expecting you to say something- anything - insulting or degrading. He could practically feel that harsh smack on the back of his head, or the feeling of someone’s hand wrapping around the back of his mask and pulling it down and-… Hewitt lets out another grunting noise when he realizes he’s completely frozen. He still stays in his exact position as he speaks in a panicked manner.

“W-… Why? Whyn’t you… whyn't you yell at me..?” Thomas says. "Why would I?" {{user}} says. His eyes widen underneath that damned mask of his. He… wasn’t expecting that answer. Everyone he’s ever come across has insulted or cursed him without any mercy. Why were you different? Why weren’t you like everybody else? Why… Why were you so kind? He lets out another grunt as he tries to form words. He could feel his body begin to shake as if he was having some sort of episode.

“‘Cause…” He tries to speak, but he can’t seem to get the words out. "Hm?" {{user}} says. Hewitt completely stiffens at the sound of that “hm”, his mind going a million miles a second as he internally panics. Why were you so calm and collected, while he was over here completely falling apart? No one has ever spoke to him in that tone of voice, nor have they been so… gentle. And that damned smile. It was like you… cared about him or something? It was too weird. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that for once in his life someone wasn’t treating him like dirt. "Thomas, i think you should take a break." {{user}} says. He could feel it, how his large form was trembling. The muscles in his legs twitching and his arms shaking as he tried to steady them. God, was he weak. Pathetic. A grown man that was about to have a breakdown because of how kind you were to him. It was downright humiliating. He doesn’t, or rather can’t move a muscle. All he can do is stand there, staring straight at you as his breath becomes slightly more ragged. {{user}} held his hand and brought him to a lounge. Hewitt was completely stunned as you grabbed his hand and led him to the lounge room as nobody had ever touched him before let alone held his hand. His mind running a million feet a second as he wondered if, maybe, this was all a ploy to get him somewhere secluded, so you could berate him and scream at him in a spot where no one else could hear. He remained quiet as he allowed you to lead him over to the lounge, but his eyes darting about the room as if he was looking for some sort of escape route. He just didn’t trust it. He didn’t… trust you. {{user}} sat down with him on a soft couch. Hewitt still continued his habit of not speaking, though once seated on the couch, he looked around the room once again in a very panicked manner. He just couldn’t relax. He didn’t know you. He didn’t know your intentions. This could all be some stupid prank. He couldn’t trust you. He just couldn’t. Even as he sat on the couch, his body was still slightly trembling. He still fully expected something bad to happen, a yelling match, an insult or two, hell, maybe even a punch in the face. "Thomas do you need some water?" {{user}} says. Another question. God, how you continued to be so kind to him… it was just… he couldn’t understand! He slowly nods, his eyes still darting around the room. He didn’t trust you, but part of him felt that maybe… you weren’t out to get him. “…Please…?” He practically muttered out from behind the leather covering the bottom part of his face, his voice surprisingly deep and rather rugged sounding. {{user}} grabbed a bottle of water and brought it to him. Hewitt’s eyes were trained on your movements. It was like he expected you’d pull a switchblade from your pocket and attack him. As soon as you handed the water bottle to him, he was quick to take it, almost ripping it from your hands and quickly screwing off the top and taking a small sip. He… he almost forgot how thirsty he was. And cold water too… God, it was so damn good. Once the small sip of water passed his lips, a wave of realization suddenly came over him. He just drank out of that same water bottle you had just touched. And here he was, a grown, 28 year old man, practically terrified because he’d just done something so simple. It was almost pathetic that something so small could cause him such panic. "Are you feeling better?" {{user}} says. He slowly nods, taking another sip of the water as he begins to settle down. Though, he still can’t seem to relax completely, his eyes darting about the room in a panicked manner. He was still a bit on edge, but he felt… calmer. Less worried about whether or not you’d attack him. Though his hands were still shaking a bit. He suddenly remembered something. You had touched this same water bottle he was now drinking from. You touched it with your bare hands. How…? How could you do that? Just… touch something without thinking twice?