Life starts the same way as many deaths, wails and tears, usually the child being born screams from being thrust forth unto a world unfamiliar while the parents share tears of joy for the successful birth of a living child but not all lives start with such pleasantries what follows can only be called misery at best in such cases.
“Shut that damned thing up and quit your wailing woman!” an angry shout rang through from the main room of this run-down cabin being paraded as a house, the cloth used as a door did little to stifle any noise from the sole other room that acted as both sitting and eating area.
The worn woman tried to sooth the distraught child as best she could but just as the cries began to diminish there was stomping and then the ripping of the cloth followed by a shout “I said to shut it up!” the shout caused the small being to begin screaming once more with piercing shrill sounds escaping his small yet mighty lungs.
“I should have killed you the moment I knew you were bedding the whole town but then I would look bad for killing the town whore, now you probably expect me to take care of this little beast as well but it won’t happen.” He muttered just below the sound of the babes cries “Clean up this mess and keep that thing out of my sight or I might accidentally kill it.” With that said he left out of the cabin slamming the door as he went.
Six years passed but for the mother son pair it felt like decades between the constant threats of death and the blatant abuse the pair suffered time seemed to drag on forever, the boy was beat just enough to not break any bones while his mother was so badly beaten at times she could hardly move but was still expected to feed the monster that tortured them.
As time trudged on the woman’s beatings became worse while the child’s eased up if only because the time was arriving when the boy would be forced to attend the church for schooling and the monster didn’t want questions asked about the bruises so he kept to areas that clothing covered on the child while the boy's mother could barely go out without having to keep to poorly lit areas so as to not draw attention.
The school year was only five months but for those five months the boy could live without fear of being beat to death, the older kids could receive apprenticeships to the local trades folk if they were especially good at something but that was not something this boy had to think of for at least two years by which time he might well have already died.
A vicious cycle began at this time as during the school year the beatings he would take were almost negligible but during the period when school was out he would be beaten twice as much for the slightest infraction whether real or imagined, it mattered little what he had done to earn a beating it rarely ever stopped with less than bruises and busted lips with the odd bone fracture on top of it all.
Another year passed this way.
A young man shaped not unlike a poorly made food doll with the body of a grapefruit and the head of a potato waddled alongside of the scrawny boy who always had his eyes cast down at the ground when he took notice of a bruise that married up with the split in the boys lip “Hey Victor, what happened to your face?” Victor turned his eyes toward his potato headed friend for only a few seconds before staring back at the ground as he tried to think up a lie.
“I tripped on a log in the woods.” The sheepish voice came like a passing cloud barely notable amidst the surrounding noise of the other kids coming in to school, the monster had been unable to hold himself back this time and beat Victor without thinking of the fact he was to attend school.
While it could be said that Victor trusted his potato headed friend but the same couldn’t be said for anyone else and there were simply too many other ears around that could be listening if he did say something, upon entering the school and taking attendance the priest took note of the signs even going so far as to question the bruise but when he was met with rejection the priest left it alone knowing he would only get lies in reply.
After classes ended for the day Victor pulled his friend aside away from the ears of others to tell him of the truth believing this was safe and his friend wouldn’t tell anyone, he spilled his entire tale of abuse all over his friend receiving a look that grew more disturbed as he went on with the tale of his home life. Potato head was disgusted and begged Victor to tell the priest everything be was met with utter refusal on behalf of his mother who would likely incur the wrath in his place if he was protected.
Potato head’s name was James and when he arrived home later that evening with such horrible things swirling in his head his parents interrogated him as to what had caused him to be in such a state causing him to tell his parents about the entire thing unknowing that it would only make things worse.
Victor was avoiding the monster of a man to his best ability refusing to go inside the cabin until he absolutely had to and that was how he happened to see a strange man that he was entirely unfamiliar with storming up to the door causing him to hide in the tall brush at the edge of the property to watch what was going to happen.
The stranger banged on the door with his fist until it was thrown open by the monster he lived with and was unceremoniously punched in the mouth causing him to stagger back into the house before instantly rushing back out to tackle the stranger into the dirt and did his best to beat the stranger bloody but from his view in the grass it looked like he was losing.
Victor watched with grim satisfaction as the man he lived with got a beating not unlike the ones he dished out to the boy leaving Victor’s father lying on the ground matter in dirt and blood with a final kick to his ribs the stranger shouted something that turned Victor’s joy into terror “Keep your hands off your wife and kid.” Were the words that turned this from a brilliant moment in his life to one of abject terror for he knew full well that he and his mother would reap the counter attack when it came.
Victor snuck off around to the back of the cabin and climbed in through a window before running to find his mother “Mom, we gotta go, let’s go, we gotta go.” He was pulling at her hand his panicked words muddling together causing confusion instead of relaying the message he wanted and by the time his mother understood what he had said it was too late, the latch of the door sealed their fates.
When Victor woke up he felt heavy and hurt all over making his body scream at him when he tried to move, the floor was sticky and whatever was on top of him was heavy enough to hinder his movements so it took a while for him to work his way out from beneath it only to find a pair of eyes infinitely staring at him.
Her face was blank with the eyes stuck open and her hair matted with blood from the numerous wounds, bits of a decorative table lay broken all around with a bloody piece not far away from them. The shock of the sight that lay before him caused such a shrill sound to escape his mouth Victor swore he had heard a banshee’s cry.
His breathing became quicker with each passing second as he took in more of the scene, he had drug himself out from under his mother’s corpse covered in their collective blood while across the room Victor’s father sat quietly staring at him while casually drinking his coffee as if this was totally natural but after a few moments the coffee was gone and the man rose to his feet leaving the cup on the arm of his chair.
The man walked up to the bloody mess and stepped right over the dead woman without sparing a glance at the boy as he strode toward the door stopping only briefly to grab a coat “Clean this mess up before I get back.” He spoke into the open air before leaving out and closing the door behind him, it was the calmest Victor had ever seen the man in his life.
He lay back down on the floor for an unknown amount of time before he started moving around trying to clean up the blood and broken furniture, even going so far as to gently wipe the blood from his mother’s face with a cloth afterwards he lie back down on the floor and placed her arm over himself.
The click of the door woke Victor up but he didn’t move from where he was until he was spoke to “I said to clean the mess up, why is that still there?” the abnormal calm was unnerving to the boy but he was required to reply or be beaten, a rule he learned repeatedly “I can’t lift her.” His small voice squeaked out.
“What was that? Speak up.” The man said barely raising his voice from where it had been this whole time, Victor stared daggers at the man and shouted “I’m not strong enough to move her!” with that shout Victor expected to soon be joining his mother in the next life when the man strode toward them but to his shock there was no beating that followed the man reached down and picked up the woman’s body like she was made of paper.
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Carrying her out of the cabin the man dropped her into the back of the wagon that stay parked by the side of the cabin before turning to head back inside, Victor had followed because he expected the man to dump her into a pit or down the well but no such thing happened “Get rid of it, leave it in the woods or something, I don’t care.” The man said as he returned inside.
Victor did his best to hook up the horse to the wagon alone, he had always had help before but nobody would help him now, sitting on the wagon with the reigns in hand he snapped them lightly and the horse began to move pulling the pair away from the cabin and toward the town.
Victor didn’t say much of anything to anyone once he got to town he screamed help but that was all, he was tired and sore with nothing keeping him going except for the determination to get to town so once he was there his mind shut off while the people who came to his aid dealt with the rest after seeing him covered in blood and the dead woman in the wagon.
There were accusations that Victor’s father had beat her to death but he denied it claiming that she fell and with Victor not speaking it had to be let go, she was buried under the watch of the whole town where Victor saw the stranger again, walking over to the man who caused this to happen Victor just stood there staring at him blankly for a moment before turning his eyes on the boy at his side.
A potato headed boy with a body shaped like a grapefruit stood there with sorrow on his face unable to meet Victors eyes, Victor took a step closer to the boy balled his fist reached way back and asserted himself without so much as a faint expression, potato head fell to the ground holding his face as blood poured from his nose but nobody said a word to him least of all the man who stood there because he had to know that this was all his fault.
A few months passed without the beatings starting back up but Victor’s silence was growing to be inconvenient and so he was slapped around albeit less than before but it seemed the thing that bother his father the most was his lack of expression even when getting beaten no muscle in his face moved, not a grimace nor frown not even a squint, it was as if he was dead and just walking about because his body hadn’t learned of it yet.
A year passed and the beatings got back to how they were originally but stopped again when Victor simply did things on purpose to get beat and stared at his father with those cold dead eyes just waiting for him to do it without ever even resisting when he was being beat, it was like the satisfaction he got from beating the boy wasn’t there if he didn’t show any expression of pain or discomfort, the boy didn’t even grunt when he was hit and just stood back up when knocked down.
A further three years went by after the beatings stopped but Victor still refused to speak or emote though that seemed to make him popular with the blacksmith who chose to take him as an apprentice, a boy of eleven now he was still small and malnourished so the work was harder than it would have been if he was well fed luckily for him the smiths wife was kind and fed him when he was there at the smithy.
Four more years passed in much a similar way though with each passing day Victor spent less and less time at the cabin all but living in the smithy when not at school though in between he learned skills from others in the town simply by staring at them until they asked him if he wanted to learn whatever it was they were doing to which he nodded. Skinning, tanning, hunting and even cooking from the smithy’s wife when he helped to make the meals on occasion.
In exchange for living in the smithy Victor would oft bring small game as compensation even going so far as to skin and clean it for the smithy’s wife to such a degree that she began to pay the boy for his efforts beyond just sleeping arrangements, a few coins for the meat and fur stashed amidst a small purse always tied to his belt save for the few times he took it off to pay for clothes or shoes.
Four more years passed by in the blink of an eye leaving Victor at the age of fifteen winters with the physique of someone who swung hammers all day long for years on end, broad shoulders and lean muscle were his defining features though he might be considered handsome if anyone saw his face but the long hair he let to drape as it wished made it difficult to tell and his cold demeanor to all but the smithy couple made him seem unapproachable.
Much of the past years had been spent working on farm equipment or making horse shoes but there were times when weapons had to be made, arrow heads mostly with a few swords and knives thrown in allowing the boy to learn how best to make weapons which he practiced every chance he got all for the day he would take his revenge.
Victor had at one time tried to forge a hunting bow from steel spending a lot of time just refolding the steel to get out more of the impurities while adding in more carbon before forging it out to shape in order to create a monstrosity of a weapon, the bow was heavy because of the material used to make it to such a degree Victor was unsure if anyone would actually be able to use the monstrosity.
The bow turned out unwieldable even for the one who built it causing it to be nothing but a useless chunk of steel that he threw back into the fire to make something else or several other items, he wasn’t sure yet but he knew it wouldn’t work as a bow either he didn’t have the skill yet or it just wasn’t a feasible idea but for the moment a dagger would be nice and that was something he had the utmost confidence in making.
Victor spent a few days locked in the forge like he did when he first came to stay with the old man making a few identical daggers finishing the hilts with different woods of different colors, one of oak one of ash and one of thorn. The ash handle was to be gifted and the ash was for himself soaked in oil and the Thorn was to be soaked in the blood of vicious animals but in order to do that he would need to hunt which meant he would need to hunt down some animals what led him to using the last remaining bits of what was once a bow to make a hunting blade.
With his self-set tasks completed Victor attached the hunting knife to the back of his belt on his left hip with the ask dagger in a similar position to the right, the thorn was wrapped in a cloth and tucked inside the small pack he had traded for with the hunter some time back. The Oak handled dagger was carried with him as he headed into the old smith’s home with a knock to announce himself as was his way.
The old man was sitting in a rocker before the fireplace smoking a pipe while his wife sat across from him knitting, it was always this way in the evening the pair sat quietly in each other's company each with their own thoughts only to be disturbed by Victor’s entry causing the old man to turn his head briefly taking in the sight of the boy “You’re too late for dinner boy.” the old man spoke around the pipe as he lightly rocked himself.
Victor simply walked up and stood before the old man with the dagger in his hand which given Victor’s history and rampant silence caused the old smith’s heat to stall briefly half expecting the boy to attack him for some unknown reason but soon calmed when Victor held the weapon by its blade and presented it to the old smith.
The old smith took hold of the weapon and examined it thoroughly as any respectable craftsman would taking note of the minute flaws that verged on nit picking before trying to hand it back to the boy “It’s a fine weapon boy.” the praise was real but he was still sitting there his arm out trying to hand it back even after a full minute had passed “What’s wrong with you boy? Take this thing before my arm falls off.” the old man chided but still Victor didn’t take the dagger.
Finally the old man sat forward staring at the boy’s face and it was only then that Victor opened his mouth “This...... is a gift for you.... for teaching and taking care of me.” the old man's eyes went wide, having never head Victor speak before, the situation was the same for the smith’s wife. The pair looked at one another for a moment as the voice registered, it was hoars and deeper than they had expected, the words were broken and abnormally spaced.
It was assume to be from his disuse for so many years that it was hoars and broken but the depth came from the fact he had been silent throughout puberty so they had never heard his voice as a child nor the cracks of it as he grew into the young man before them, the old man sat back into his chair resting the bade across his lap while petting it like a favored animal “It’s a fine gift son.” the old man spoke
The old woman set aside her knitting so that she could stand causing Victor to flinch as she approached him reaching out her arms, the years of abuse left deep scars on both his body and mind that caused him to all but dread physical touch, the old woman slowed down but gingerly touched the boy’s shoulders feeling him tense before pulling him into a gentle embrace the likes of which he had not felt since his mother’s death
He was frozen the gentle contact was so foreign that he didn’t know how to respond choosing instead to remain still and just take it in for a moment, the old woman didn’t seem to mind his hesitance as she continued to just hold him for a moment before stepping back and gently patting his face “Such a good boy” was all she said before heading back to her seat. When he finally regained himself, Victor blinked and turned his head left to right as if confused but it only lasted a few seconds before turning back to the old man “I... go hunting.... back in few days.”
The old man stared at him for a moment before placing the pipe back in his mouth with a small nod and waved the boy away, Victor turned to the old woman and bowed his head to her slightly before leaving, he headed off toward the forest using the last of the light to get through the village. The sky was the color of flames when he finally reached the edge of the village and headed off into the surrounding forest, there would be no fire this night as he lacked the time to start one but there was a good chance for finding snakes that he could use for the thorn but for his purposes a few snakes wouldn’t be enough that was why he would be out for a couple of days.
After two days he had amassed a small collection of animals ranging from snakes to a starved wolf that had tied to eat him, the only reason he beat the wolf was that it was already weakened and it was alone, if there had been one more wolf even a starved one it seemed unlikely that he would have walked away unscathed if at all, he was physically strong but his real-life experience in a lot of situations was severely lacking which could easily lead to his death if he wasn’t careful.
He dug a hole in the ground big enough to lay the dagger flat before proceeding to slit the throat of each one of the animals he had taken while arranging the bodies to bleed out directly into the hole, the snakes had their heads cut entirely off so that he could just squeeze out their insides into the hole even going so far as to throw punctured poison sacs into the hole with the dagger, he watched as the blood filled up the hole hiding away the dagger in its depths where he left it for an additional night to soak under the moonlight in the hopes that his blade would become a cursed item that could assist him in his revenge.
On the morning of the fourth day Victor plunged his hand into the remaining blood mixture retrieving a blade tinted bloody red with a handle that was so dark red that it almost looked black the weapon gave off a strange feeling of malice just from looking at it, Victor headed back to the village trudging his way through the forest for an hour but he didn’t go back to the smithy instead heading for the cabin where his father lived intent on completing his revenge.
None of the animals he had killed for this weapon would be useful for anything else they were all things nobody wanted to eat or starving both were perfect for the weapon but were useless otherwise at least in his eyes, Vivtor stood on the front step of the cabin the bloody red dagger clutched in his fist while he gathered the nerve to do what he came to do until he finally took a deep breath that he held while raising his fist and using the halt of the blade to rap upon the door aggressively.
The heavy angry steps from inside said that his time was near and no sooner had he begun to let out a shaky breath did the door fly open with his father standing there glowering at him prompting Victor to immediately lunge at the man with the blade stabbing at the man’s lower torso in an attempt to impale him, the man instinctively moved causing the blade to leave naught but a shallow cut across his abdomen that showed through a cut in the tunic he wore.
Having missed the first shot Victor changed from a stab to a slash trying to follow up and cause real damage but the older man had a wealth of experience that dwarfed Victor’s and in just a few moved Victor had been put on the back foot defending himself from a hastily grabbed coat hook that threatened to break open his skull if it connected and while he had landed a few shallow cuts Victor was losing ground quickly as he retreated.
One misplaced step as he backpedaled caused Victor to fall allowing more than enough time for the more experienced man to close in and beat him mercilessly with the coat hook until a blow connected with his head and the world went white with blinding pain that was quickly followed by a world of darkness that consumed him, his last thoughts before drowning in the darkness was simply “I failed.”