Bloody Hands - [Spider-Punk Fanfiction]

-;- 15 -;-

TW: abuse; "D/N" = deadname

"Your hand is not high enough." Her father claimed harshly, the little girl nodded, tripping as he pushed her. In her small hands a fake knife. Her eyes scanning the room, both mother and brother watching as the six year old was training to defend herself.

"Again." James hissed as one of his friends grabbed Y/n from behind once more, the little girl held the knife in their hand, pushing it between her arms and the one of the man, then she pushed it back harshly, him letting go of her. She landed on the ground since he had picked her up.

"No, don't let her go until she actually is able to get rid of you as I taught her to." James said harshly and nodded at the man, again picking her up. Squirming under his arms, she kicked her feet around, trying to get the knife between the skin but nothing worked. His grip around her was way harder now and tears grew in her eyes, panic growing in the little girl.

"Let go!" She yelped, again, trying to get the knife between her arms and his, she started to poke his hands aggressively until he let go, seeming to be a little hurt. As she fell back on the ground, she landed on her feet, quickly running to her mother in fear of getting grabbed again.

The woman laid one hand on the little girl's head as her small arms wrapped around her legs. She sighed at her husband but he only shook his head in disappointment.

"Let's try again." James said, Y/n was eight now, in her hand yet the fake prep. Her father's friend in front of her, punching towards the girl, she was way smaller but she still dodged down, stepping to the side and stretching her arm out, the fake knife hitting the man's back.

"Higher!" James grabbed her arm, holding it up to where the heart was placed, his grip around her wrist hard and angry. She nodded quickly and went back into position, repeating the same move again, this time her arm higher.

Y/n was alone with her dad and his friend, her mother was away and her brother probably in his room half dead. The girl was holding back her tears as it kept going, right leg, left leg, arm stretched out and hitting the man's back.

"Good!" Her father finally claimed, three hours later, Y/n's forehead covered in sweat and the man had probably a dark bruise on his back by now. She wiped over her face and walked out of the room as her dad dismissed her from the training. Tired and feeling alone, she went into her room and laid on the bed. She didn't care about the sweat or that she was sweating, she just wanted to cry.

Did other children also do this? Train everyday? Did they also get beaten by their father when they do something wrong? Held weirdly by men just so they could figure out how to defend themself? Did other kids have to go through all this? Or just her? Tears grew in her eyes but she didn't allow herself to cry, quickly standing up, she wiped over her face and placed herself in front of the punching bag. Hitting her hands harshly against the fabric until her skin started to rip slightly.

"No, no, no!" Her dad slapped her hand harshly, making it burn. Y/n hissed a little in pain and repeated the same move, letting herself fall on the ground, one leg stretched out the other close to her chest, then she circled around, her momentum was strong enough to make her dad's friend fall on the ground.

Twelve years old, two years with Hobie. No emotions on their face anymore when they were at home. It was like they were turned off unless they were with their best friend. This family had drained them out like a sponge.

"Again!" He yelled once more, this was enough for Y/n, they were harsher than before, their hands found the ground, pushing their legs up, wrapping them around their dad's friends neck. Then they pushed themself back up and smashed him on the ground, he grunted and fell down. James looked surprised at his daughter and grabbed their hair harshly. They yelped.