Silence reigned in the early hours of the day even in the slums where Eclise and his father lived. But inside that house, the silence was more terrifying than a person can imagine. If you listen closely, inside that small shack, you can hear the hurried scrubbing of skin, causing it to burn and bleed.

Eclise ignored the pain on his palm and continued to clean his body. The smell of his blood mixed with the foul smell of vomit, first his and then HIS.

He’s spent too much time here, he thought. In time his neighbors will notice the smell. Although the sewers will mask it at first, the people around here know too much of the odor of rotting flesh.

He hurried to dress himself, not even bothering to clean his mess because what’s the use? By the time they barge in and see it, he’d already be gone. No one sane would stay, especially a guilty soul.

He didn’t bother to stop, he groped around the body to check for things, most of the pockets were empty, nothing of value that he could use lest for the small knife his father always carried with him.

That same knife almost ran through his throat early that evening, Eclise had just come home from working as an errands boy. His father was home early that day, having already gone through quite a number of ale bottles he knew were too expensive compared to what they can afford..

The alarms were already ringing in his head, but when did it not? But that time, it was different.

He felt his father’s joy vibrating across their small shack. Deciding it was best to leave him be, he lowered his head and entered quietly but then his father turned to him and almost jumped.

His father’s touch was rough, foreign and unnerving and yet a warm feeling spread in his chest as it was the only sign of affection Eclise had ever experienced from him.

“Be sure to clean yourself well boy” his father said after he was placed down from a bear hug. “You will be picked up by the Viscount in the morning.”

Reality slapped Eclise hard as he realized what had happened. His father had sold him off to a sick man.

Everyone knew of the Viscount. It was rare for nobles to come to the slums yet this particular man frequented the nearby town and never fails to visit the slums. On his visits he consistently gives out alms and food, making special care to converse with the viscious men who seemed to become especially happier after their talk.

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Dread, however, in the hearts of parents and the knowing youth accompanied the arrival of the silver carriage carrying no crest. Just as everyone knew of the Viscount, they also knew of the Viscount’s hobby. The man collected young boys sold by their guardians. Those who still cared for kin made special care to hide their sons so as not to receive the viscount’s interests.

The ones that were unfortunate and tries to deny the viscount of his desired individual would never again receive the help of the noble and would even come to regret it, the others are casted away by their peers, looked down on and bullied unable to move away from the abuse. A lot of the boys that the viscount took with him never came back, and the few who did were never the same. His fate would soon be one of the two.

“No, I don’t want to go!” in his surprise, he argued and that was when his father grabbed him by the hair and clumsily pulled out his most treasured knife.

“Don’t want to? Who do you think you are?” the man spat.

“I’m your…son.” Eclise struggled to grab hold of the large hand that almost lifted him up. His scalp felt like they would come off any moment.

“Ha! Son? I don’t even know if you are mine. Your mother whored herself to the whole town and left you to me when you were pushed out. She didn’t even look back! I’d have thrown you off the river a long time ago if not for the subsidy I get from that charity.

But now that your past the age they pity, it’s time you pay up for your own part brat! The Viscount has already paid me for your services. All you need to do now is please him well, after that I could finally get out of this cursed slums!”

After a long while, when his father was sure that he had no more fight in him, he let him go. Eclise wrapped his head as he gasped through the tears and snot that ran uncontrollably on his face. The physical pain burned, but the fear of his upcoming fate was worse.

“And don’t even think of running away. You know well that there is no place that you can hide where I will not find you, just like how I found your mother and gave her the punishment she deserved for running off.” His father chuckled at the memory and without a doubt, Eclise believed what his father was capable of doing.

Eclise rummaged through the corner of the shack. Underneath the mountain of empty ale containers was a loose floorboard that he removed with great familiarity. Inside was a dirty cloth that wrapped a small cardboard box.

He hurriedly unwrapped and opened the box revealing two silver coins and a couple of copper pennies. Inside was also his father’s identification papers and one of his mother’s jewelry, a bronze chain with a small ruby stone hanging from it.

Shoving all the things he decided to bring on his father’s coat that he wore atop the few clean clothing he owned, Eclise opened the door of their home, looked back to the cold lifeless body of the father he suffocated to death in his sleep, the evident chaos of their daily life, turned back to the streets, and without a second glance ran away from his life without stopping.