Run Little Lost Girl

Bonus Chapter #1

There was a pause of silence. Peter stared up at the ceiling.

"Do you think Mother is in heaven?"

"Who cares?" Rufio asked, adjusting his sheets so they came up to his chin. "No matter where she is, she's... gone." The word felt foreign on Rufio's tongue and he found trouble saying it. Although he would never show it, the reality of its meaning finally weighed on him and his heart ached. He was glad he was facing away from his brother.

Peter's eyes filled with tears and he pulled up his blankets over his head to give himself privacy and save his dignity as he silently cried. He needed his mother. He felt cold without her.

He felt lost.

Neither of them got any sleep.

⋆✶

The blow sent Peter flying back.

"Father, stop!" Rufio cried, watching in horror as his own father tossed his teenage brother around as if he was a mere rag doll. The fact that he was at least twenty pounds below what his weight should've been worsened his situation

"You shut up, boy!" his father slurred, pointing a finger at his oldest son. His stature swayed. "Your brother needs to learn what it's like to be a man."

Soon after their mother's passing, their father had become a drunk and unemployed, earning the little money they had through childish gambling. He rarely spent the night at their house and his loose ways with both men and women were known by everyone. Thanks to him, the broken family had become the town's running joke and the boys had to drop out of school.

Peter, now fourteen, stood up, grasping his arm and growled at his father. He spat on the ground in his direction.

Over the years, Peter had learned how to turn his hurt and sadness to anger and strength. It wasn't a hard thing to master in the midst of his father's cruel beatings.

He watched as his father grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter and came closer to him. "Come here, boy. Let me show you how a real man with balls behaves."

Peter stood his thin body straighter and Rufio stood helpless, his eyes switching back and forth between both family members. But they instantly closed at the sound of his brother's body thumping against the floor followed by his horrendous sounds of pain.

Peter's cries were the last noises heard that night until darkness fell.

He quivered on the bed and Rufio skillfully placed cool towels on his back and sides after disinfecting the deep, knife wounds that would no doubt accompany Peter's other scars forever. Instantly, the white towels soaked up Peter's blood and turned a pink hue. Rufio cringed but hid it as best he could for his brother.

Their father had passed out on the sofa with a brown bottle in one hand. There would be no gambling or sleeping around that night.

"If that's what being a man is like," Peter groaned suddenly, his voice hoarse, "then I hope I never become one. I'll kill myself before I let that happen." His breathing was ragged and his voice was terribly weak from screaming, barely a whisper.

Rufio shushed him angrily, frowning deeply. "Don't say things like that, thickhead."

Peter managed to scoff. "Don't act like you don't not want that too. I see your eyes, brother," he told him. "They're sad."

Rufio pressed down on Peter's back, making the boy cry out in anguish. "Shut up," Rufio growled, "or I'll add more to the collection." He released the pressure off his back and Peter panted from trying to get through the pain.