(Edited: 11/20/19)
Nathaniel POV
Yelling, glass bottles shattering, more yelling, and pain. How could anyone be sane after almost 10 years of torture? My advice, let it happen. Let the man hit you with whatever he wants to, let the woman talk down on you and watch you get beat.
That's what I did, I'm not proud, but once Pa realized that I would be a good boy he would warn me before beatings. That was always nice; I had time to set out the first aid and wouldn't get too much blood on the floor while looking for it after punishment. Ma would throw less bottles at me if I let Pa beat me, it was her way of showing sympathy, and I appreciated that very much.
"Bitch!" I heard Pa yell from his room. I moved as soon as the word left his mouth, hurrying to make my way to his room fast enough to avoid a beating.
"Yes sir?" I said quietly knowing he had a hangover.
"Get me some medicine and water, and maybe if your fast enough we can skip after dinner punishment, ya?" He said in a bitterly sweet voice, as if he were trying to lure me into a false sense of security. Well I won't fall for that again, not after last time.
"Yes sir." I quickly said as I avoided eye contact and rushed to the bathroom looking for Pa's pills. After I found them on the kitchen counter, I filled Pa a glass of water, and walk back to his room.
"P-Pa? Have your medicine." I called out. That was my first mistake of that night.
"Why the fuck are you yelling in my house you little fag?" Pa growled from his bed, "An' ya took too long too! Are Ye askin' to be beat?"
"N-no sir!" I shouted trying to defend myself. That had been strike two.
"No? Well it sure seems like it." He snapped, "Get your ass to your room. Be expecting me in an hour. And I swear on your life if I hear a single peep out of you at all within this hour. You are going to wish we dumped you off in a ditch as a baby." Pa's face was beet red and I could see the vein on his forehead strain tempting me to disobey him, but knowing that Pa doesn't make empty threats had me ignoring his vein and running to my room.
Now when I say room I mean a small storage closet with cracked concrete floors and thin striped walls that were an ugly shade of tan and brown, the wallpaper ripping in the back left corner had a bit of mold growing underneath. The ceiling had huge water stains all over it and was so worn down that a dip has started to form and reach lower into the room. A small dresser sat by the door, it was also an ugly tan color, but it had yellow painted knobs, and faded painted yellow boats on the sides. I pushed my door open and stepped inside the smell moist air, pee, and vomit filled the air. The smell was so pungent that I had to cover my nose before shutting my door quietly.
I scrambled to my "bed" on the opposite side of the room from the door, near the moldy wall. My bed was just a pile of thin blankets the orphanage gave Ma and Pa when the adopted me. I dug out my emergency kit from its hiding spot. Which was a hole under a corner of my bed. I arranged bandages, rubbing alcohol, and an assortment of antibacterial creams out on my bed. Then stood up to put my kit in a new hiding place, but as I did a pair of fabric cutting scissors dropped out of my bag and hit the floor. Hard. I winced, but nothing came. Pa hadn't come running through the door.
'Maybe he didn't hear it' I thought silently to myself as I reached down to pick up the scissors. I wish I hadn't spoken too soon. Just as I grabbed the scissors off the floor, my door swung open, banging into my dresser. I winced and tried to back into the corner, but before I could, a lard rough hand shot out and grabbed my shaggy blond hair. Pa pulled me forward towards his face.
"I gave you a warning you little bitch!" He hissed, "What Did I say! Huh? What the fuck did I tell you?" He had gotten louder, he was screaming. "I told you to be Silent didn't I?" He spun me around and shoved me full force at the dresser and I cried out in pain as I felt the corner digging into my skin. Pa covered my mouth.
"Damn! Even now you won't shut up!" He chuckled. "I told you, didn't I? You are going to wish you were dead." He pushed against me more, slowly driving the corner deeper in my skin. I could feel the blood dripping down my body. Pa pulled me off the dresser and looked down. At first, I thought he was looking at my wound, but soon I felt him grab the end on something in my hand, which I recognized as my scissors. I wanted to tell him to stop, or plead him to stop, but I didn't I couldn't.
"Were you going to try and kill me fag?" He asked me so calm that it had sent a chill down my spine.
"N-no P-pa." I stuttered. He smirked as if he knew that he was right. He couldn't have been more wrong, I would kill myself before I would try to kill Pa. At least I know I would be able to succeed at killing myself.
"Your stuttering Nathaniel." He never called me by my name, ever. "You stutter when you're nervous. So son tell me, why are you nervous?" He didn't give me a chance to reply. "You were going to kill me! Right! How about I kill you!" He screamed. Time seemed to slow as Pa grabbed the front of my shirt, lifting my malnourished pale body off the floor, and swung the scissors aiming for my neck.
Ring...Ring...Ring. The house phone started to ring, and Pa stopped mid swing. He let go of me and walked out of my room. I felt the bittersweet tears of relief fill in my eyes and I used one of my shirts on the floor to keep my wound from bleeding out any further. I wondered what the call was about, and couldn't help but to crawl to my bedroom door and listen to the seemingly one-sided conversation between Pa and whoever has on the phone with.
"Um, yes this is he." A pause.
"So you're telling me that my son is..." The person on the other end must have cut him off.
"Yes...the day after he turns 18?" Pa asked.
"I don't think so, you must be ma..." Cut off again?
"Ten thousand?" Ten thousand what?
"You have yourself a deal." Pa then gave whomever it was our address then hung up. Then he started to make his way back to my room, and I scrambled away from the door.
"Pack your shit Nathaniel." Pa said in a cheery voice, tossing a suitcase on the floor in front of me.
"Pa?" I asked in a worried tone. What happened? He had been ready to kill me only 10 minutes prior to that call.
"Don't call me Pa!" he snapped, "In four days you aren't mine or the whore's problem anymore. You're gonna be picked up and gone so pack all your shit and take care of your wounds." He seemed so...happy.
"I don't understand sir." I stated. He smirked.
"Do you want dinner?" I didn't even hide the shock that flashed through my hazel colored eyes. "What you surprised for boy? You just made me ten thousand dollars boy fucking eat all you want." He did a little jig and sashayed away from my room.
As I sat at the table with Pa...Or I mean...what is Pa's name? Anyway, as I sat at the table with not-Pa, I only ate two bites of chicken and drank four cups of water. I didn't trust him enough not to poison me.
"You can sleep on the couch tonight; I won't be home for a few days, and I'll be leaving after I'm done eating." He stated. And true to his word when not-Pa was done, he packed clothes and left. After I made sure he would stay gone, I went to my room and grabbed my blankets and moved to the couch.
It felt like heaven, my back slowly sunk into the cushions. It was so different from sleeping on the hard ground. I curled in a ball, covered up with my blankets, and felt myself slip into a familiar dream:
Warmth surrounded me, caressed me, held me, and kissed me. It has been the same dream every night this week, but tonight it was different. Normally it was dark and all I could do was feel. Feel warm hands, at least two pairs, holding and caressing me, but tonight it wasn't dark. I could see a small veranda and sitting there, at a table were two people. Two men, two shirtless men.
One man was tall, tan, brown eyed, and muscular, but not overly so, just enough for him to be exactly my type. He had black hair styled into a quiff. He smiled and waved me over, pulling a chair out for me.
As I approached, I noticed the other man. He seemed to be only a bit taller than my 5 foot 8 inch frame. He had pale skin with freckles scattered all over his face, his curly brown undercut falling into his sparkling blue eyes. And even though he was very different from mg tall and dark, he was exactly my type too. He gestured to the chair the first man pulled out, so I sat down.
They both took one of my hands and for the first time, they spoke.
"Soon love." the first man, said his voice was smooth and easy on the ears.
"We only have four days." The other spoke, his voice slightly more famine but still perfect.
And then, I woke up.
Words: 1731
-Setta