"Just tell them..." in Trigger Warning

”… what he did.” were the words he said. My foster dad was tall in the elevator. He was close to me, which i liked, because he made me feel safe. There were a lot of men in the small space. I could see their hands, all at my eye level. I could see the hairs, the veins, the skin wrapped around the handles of there cases. When I looked up all I saw was faces looking down at me with concern. I looked to Jim, my new dad. He always looked at me with a gentle warmth and a small pang of sadness. Even when he wore a smile or laughed when we were all happy.
He looked at me with that sad but reassuring smile, and put his big hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay” he said, as the warmth from his hand settled onto my shoulder, “You won’t get into trouble.”
I step away from him, feeling the heat leave my shoulder, but more aware than ever of the eyes of the men in the elevator on me. Before any of them could realize what was happening, I undid my pants and dropped them around my ankles, my bright Spider-man underwear tucked in with them, around my tall socks and untied shoes. I heard a gasp, and felt the gazes of the men leave my body. When I looked up, Jim was looking down with more sadness than warmth in his eyes. He kneels down, and helps me pull my pants back up as quiet conversation starts between the men in the elevator.
The door opens, and Jim takes my hand. He walks me out and into a large room with shiny stone walls, with dusty light and loud echoes. We walk through a mass of strange adult people, bustling around, in and out of doors. No one is looking at me anymore, and Jim keeps my hand warm and safe in his. We find the familiar set of doors and Jim and one of the men in the suits open them and usher me in. We pass the long wooden seats, where people are sitting with their hands in their laps and their faces blur into a sea of strangers.