Disclaimer: Inheritance Cycle and characters belong to CP
Yes, I edited the end of this and reposted it, someone suggested that I should emphasize the pain scene... so voila...
Enjoy... sort of.
"Daddy, what happened to mummy?" Three-year-old Murtagh Morzansson stood in the doorway of his father's study, sucking on his thumb, chubby hand still resting on the metal doorknob.
Morzan turned around from polishing his sword to glare down at his son, handsome face contorted in a mask of disgust. "What are you doing in here?" he slurred. "I did not give you permission to enter."His gaze was that of a half-mad bulldog – vicious, disconcerting, and unsteady; he had clearly been drinking again.
His son was too young to recognize the signs of a drunken man. "I want to know what happened to mummy," he repeated, staring up at the red rider with round hazel orbs. "Why hasn't she come to see me yet?"
"I want to know what happened to mummy. Why hasn't she come to see me yet?" Morzan mimicked, he stepped forward and lifted the boy off the ground by the front of his tunic. "Maybe she doesn't want to look at your ugly little face," he growled, nose only an inch away from his victim's. Suddenly, he let go and the child fell to the ground, legs giving away underneath him, the left one bent at an awkward angle, clearly broken. The red rider turned away then and walked unsteadily back to the window. "You want to know what happed to your mummy? She's gone. And it's your fault she left."
"Mummy wouldn't leave because of me! She loves me, she told me so!" Murtagh's voice trembled.
His father laughed cruelly, "She told you that, did she? Well here's a lesson right now, never believe anything that you can't prove. She doesn't the hell care what happens to you. If she did, would she have let me do this?" The boy screamed as a heavy leather boot connected with his ribs. "Get up," Morzan said dispassionately.
He tried to stand, he really did, but his bad leg just wouldn't hold any weight and he toppled back to the ground. "You're pathetic, you know that?" his father drawled, kicking him again. He reached out with a gauntleted hand and grabbed the boy's hair, dragging him to his feet. "Now when I tell you to get up, you do as I say, get that?"
Murtagh whimpered. He meant to say yes, but instead, one word escaped from his lips. "Why?" Why do you hate me? Why did I deserve this? Why isn't mummy here?
The rider's gaze narrowed to slits – one blue, one black. "I said 'when I tell you to get up, you do as I say, get that?'" Instead of words, a cry tore from the child's mouth. With unnatural strength and speed, Morzan threw him against the wall, watching as the boy slid down, leaving streaks of blood on the white paint.
Stars danced behind Murtagh's lids as he felt all the breathe rush out of his body. He was sure that that had most of the bones in his body. This was not of course the first time that his father had abused him, but this was by far the worst. When he heard Morzan tell him to get out, he slowly and painstakingly tried to drag himself to the door. Every inch of him hurt.
The red rider watched his son's bloody progress across the floor and sneered. Pathetic, he thought. Picking up his sword, he threw it at the toddler's back.
Pain, white hot pain, burning tearing down from his left shoulder to the opposite hip. Murtagh collapsed on the ground, screaming like he'd never screamed before. Pain, scarlet lines of pain. He arched his back and of course that only made it worse. Pain, blossoming from his back, spreading like wild-fire. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Pain, like he'd never felt before… then nothing.