1974- Ambrose
In a small kitchen a young boy sits in a highchair eating cereal peacefully, judging by the amount of cereal around the bowl and spread across his table he was on the younger side, perhaps 3 or 4.
On the stove a pot was boiling was though not all of it remained inside as the side of the counter and front of the stove had wax dripping onto the floor. A woman approaches with a cigarette between her lips, she was dressed in a typical 70's fashion. As she reaches the stove, she stirs the wax to ensure not clumps remained, before using a ladle to spoon the wax into a face mold.
The young boy plops his spoon into the bowl of milk alerting is mother who was tilting and twirling the mold trying to get the wax on every bit before it cools.
"you're being such a good boy. Would you like some more cereal sweetheart?" she asked kindly as she pours some more cereal into his bowl, topping it off with some more milk. She smiled for a moment thankful that at least one of her children was an angel.
Before she can finish that thought the door flies open and a man walks in holding a screaming child. The boy in his father's arms is unruly and downright a menace, the struggle gets worse as the father nears the highchair, the boy's feet fly up as he tries to get away.
"he's really being a monster again today" the man grunts as he moves another highchair, the boy kicks some of the tools that lay on the table knocking them aside before kicking his father.
"Trudy, goddamn it, help me" the man calls to his wife as the boy kicks the table again and flings himself around, successfully knocking the face mold off the table. The porcelain mold falls to the ground and promptly breaks into multiple pieces rendering it useless.
"ugh... cant you be more careful?" she asks angrily before moving to the other side of the chair helping the man strap the child in.
"im doing the best I can. He's out of Control" the grunts still attempting to put the unruly child into the chair. Trudy narrowly avoids getting kicked by her son as she yanks the table top off the chair and helps force the boy into it.
"sit still. Stop it!" she yells as she holds the boy while the father restrains the boys feet with leather straps.
"don't do that. stop kicking!" the father yells at the boy as he grasps the other foot and tightening the leather strap. The buckles of the chair had blood staining them indicating the boy had been in the chair many times and each time he fought until he bled.
"ugh. why can't you be more like your brother" Trudy says as she grabs the duct tape from the table and begins taping his feet ensuring he couldn't get out even if he got the leather straps loose. The boy keeps crying out and struggling as they latch his hands in, neither parent having any remorse for what they were doing to the unruly child. Just as the mother finishes wrapping the tape around his hands the boy scratches the top of her hand leaving deep cuts. The mother pulls back and angrily slaps the boy across the face.
YOU ARE READING
No more small towns
Fanfictionsmall towns are filled with gossip and simple living, but when they have been abandoned for years sinister happens begin to brew. And sometimes you aren't immune to it.
