Warning! The following section will feature offensive slurs and epithets that can and will trigger those not willing to go through them. This scene, while brief, will feature topics, such as kidnapping, child abuse, and molestation.
Please be respectful in the comments, and remember that while the language and situation are fictitious, that the content is to bring clarity and understanding to the issues being presented.
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His vision flickered again, and memories suddenly flashed as disjointed images in his mind. Scenes of fighting, coupled insults and obscenities, invaded his senses, while screams and otherworldly wails drowned out his thoughts in a vortex of madness.
He could series of voices calling him. One after another, each with a different emotion. Some were with love, others with fear, and more with anger, and frustration.
One particular voice rang out the loudest and from it the chief of his anxieties.
“Where the fuck you think you’re going you little dick suckin’ faggot! You better get your sweet ass in this house before I slit your gatdamn throat mutherfucker!”
Fear.
Inexorable. Indescribable. Inescapable.
Fear.
It was toxic substance, once that could singe flesh and melt bone.
It was easily recognizable, not because of the sounds and changes in tone it gave off, but the way it made him sick to his stomach every single time it was gentle.
He knew it, and he hated it how easy it was to obey it.
It was his step father’s voice. One of his random fits of rage, when he was too coked out of his mind or too drunk to care who was listening.
Cold, iron hands gripped his waist and thighs, massaging his skin abrasively and manically like razors skinning him alive with each swipe, and the hot musty stench of stale breath made his nostrils gag, as the overpowering muscle of a full grown man looming over him made Amrielle shrink and grovel, begging whatever god existed in this world to make the agony end.
You see? You like it don’t you?
You know you do.
This is what you made for. To be beaten and broken; to be bloodied and battered. Your very existence was made to be enslaved in death and destruction.
A second voice called him. A faint echo, a momentary lapse, until the echoes became louder.
Amrielle!
Amrielle!
My baby! Amrielle!
Mother…
Don’t listen to her, she is dead, and her memory is but an illusion. This is your reality child. This is your purgatory. Accept it, and embrace the eternal damnation that awaits you and the dragon.
No.
Don’t fight it, it’ll hurt regardless, but it’s better to submit.
Amrielle’s eyes snapped open, and yelled as hands from the tear seized his wrists and ankles. Their very touch was unbearably hot, so much so that they immediately began branding his skin. The sensation of sizzling and searing pain was so harsh and prolonged, that it was inhumanly possible that Amrielle was still alive to feel the sting. Amrielle howled in pain, his shrill screeching mewling with the wails of the dragon creating a symphony so great and terrible that thousands of feet below them on the planet’s surface, the ground shook in unison with their call, causing mountains to collapse and whole landmasses to tear apart. Tears of blood ran down the sides of his face, only to be partially washed away by the torrent of wind and rain that surrounded them. Another hand clamped down on his neck, crushing the already dissipating wafts of life that Amrielle had left in within.
IT’s useless child, no one wants you, no one ever wanted you. Not your father, not your mother, not you friends… No one desired you.
No. I—
No looked at you when you were born, no one came to protect as you’re were taken away from your mother’s corpse as she lay their dying while giving birth to you.
That’s not true, there—
No one came to save you as were tossed aside like trash and given to that man, who knew deep down that you were never son.
He hurt my mom, he—
No one bothered to protect whenever he made you do things, and had he way with you while you screamed like the scared little bitch that you are.
He wouldn’t stop, I begged him to—
No one wanted to deliver you from the hundreds of strangers he brought to his home so he could parade you around like the delicacy you were.
There were so many of them, I tried to run—
I—
I…
Then the memories came flooding like a torrent, washing over him and sinking him back into the desolate portions of his mind he’d spent years trying to bury. Memories of his stepfather yelling at him and berating him, shouting at him while calling him all types of obscenities and slurs so ghastly and horrible that Amrielle dared not repeat them even within the confines of his own mind. Amrielle remembered the day he came to live with his stepfather, after having been raised by grandparents. Or rather, the day the man he thought was his father came and took him away to a completely different state. He was too young at the time to remember fully all that happened, he was only around 3 or 4 at the time, as soon as his father crossed the state line, he stopped the car and gave Amrielle what looked like candy. Then his eyes began to sting and his head spin as he felt various hands begin to touch him in places that felt weird and alien to him.
He didn't like it, but he couldn't tell why or who to stop. He was so sleepy. So very sleepy.
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