Hey guys! This will probably be my last Thief Lord fic ever..

Well aside for My Scipio-My Thief Lord obviously as I'll keep updating..

But yeah.. This one is quite dark and depressing and shit so yeah.. sorry :P

R&R

'Hey Thief Lord!' Dammit. Ever since they found my mask in my bag. Fuck. I ran as fast as I could down the corridor, which I will admit, is rather difficult to do in a school blazer, tousers and dress shoes. But even with my cat-like agility, the boys were older than me. Faster, too. They caught up to me just as I was about to duck into a classroom.

The leader of the small group, a boy I believe was called Marcio forcefully grabbed my collar.
'Thought we'd let you get away that easily, Posh Lord? Think again. You stole from all our rooms while playing your dumb game. Now you have to pay.'
I looked away from the large boy, trying not to give away my fear through my eyes.
'No response?' They all gasped in fake shock, 'From the great and noble Thief Lord? Well boys, I think our old friend Scipy here needs to be taught not to lie and not to steal.' The gang laughed in anticipation. I felt the grip on my collar loosen, then felt a strong hand grip my neck. I locked my jaw tightly guessing the first blow would be to my face. When I felt a sharp knee to stomach I realised I was wrong.

Another one of the boys smacked his palm into my ribs, winding me, and my knees gave way. The gang of 6 laughed at my weak figure hunched over on the floor and set to work punishing me.

I closed my eyes and tried to get to my happy place. A dark haired boy slammed his foot down on my leg as I thought of my star lair. A fat brunette boy's foot connected hard with my face, blood trickled down my forehead and got into my eyes just as I was thinking of young Bo, and all the innocence in his heart. As one of them grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me against a locker, I thought of my orphan family and all the times we happily shared together.

I heard the group laugh and wondered why. Then I felt the warm, wet patch on my chin. Shit. Tears. I crumpled to the floor as I knew that they would hurt me more for them. What I didn't expect was the harsh words.

'How's daddy, Scipio?' a tall one snickered. 'Does he touch you, like the rumours say? Does he beat you till you cry then make you cry out with pleasure?' All of them laughed then.

The thing I hated most was that it was true. My father was a sick man. When my 'bitch of a mother' (as he called her) left him, he became disturbed. His mind became twisted. And then once, something inside him snapped. My eyes clouded over with the memory...

'Father, are you okay?' I had called from his study door. I was only thirteen, I was shy, vulnerable and not prepared for what I saw. My father was hunched over his desk, a glass of Scotch in his hand. His eyes were red and his throat was raspy.
'Oh. It's you.' his voice full of hate, 'I told you to make yourself scarce.'
'But your crying.' My father was a strong man. I had never seen him this weak before. 'Go away Scipio! Out of all the people on this Earth, you are the last one I would want to see now! Just leave damn you!'
'But father..'
'Fucking leave!' he barked harshly. I flinched at his ferociousness. His face softened when he saw my timid expression.
'Oh Scipio, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to bark at you, I'm just lonely..' I went over to him and put my hand on his shoulder.
'I'm here Father.' I could feel his shoulder moving with his sobs.

Suddenly he sat up, turned to me and pulled me into a tight hug. I gasped in shock and stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. I knew he needed affection of some sort, so I just let him hug me. Then suddenly my father stood up and forcefully pushed me onto the couch by the window.

'Arrgh! Father what are you doing? That hurt!' I looked up at him and my blood ran cold when I saw the wicked glint in his eyes.
'You love your Father, don't you Scipio? You love your daddy?' he said quickly.
My throat dried instantly and my mind went blank. I tried to get up but he pushed me back down with his foot. He stepped closer to me and held my shoulder firmly. He bent down and stared into my eyes and I could smell various alcohols on his breath.
'You love me don't you son?' his grip on my shoulder had tightened then.
'Father your scaring me. Please let me go.'
'Show me show much you love me Scipio.'
'What?'

'Show me..' He started crying again then. He gripped my shoulder and pushed me down on to the floor in front of the couch. He gripped my hair roughly and shoved my upper body onto the couch.
'What are you doing?' I screamed as I heard him unzip his pants. He tightly gripped my hair and tryed to undo my zipper.
'GET AWAY FROM ME! HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE!' I kicked out at my bastard father and my foot connected with his shin. He swore amd pulled my face up to look at him.

His hand slapped down hard across my pale face. The tears spilled from my eyes as a second, and then a third slap came down mercilessly. Then I heard a loud crack as his fist collided with my jaw. I looked up into the eyes of the monster behind me. He scowled down at me; the one thing he knew he truly hated and loved, all at once. He took one of his hands and secured it firmly to my shoulder, locking me in place. He used his other hand to undo my zip and pull down my trousers, my boxers going with them. I stuggled and squimed but his grip on my shoulder was too tight. He then took that same hand and put it firmly over my mouth.

I closed my eyes and buried my head into the pillows, fearing the pain I knew would follow. He plunged deep inside of me and I screamed out into his hand. I felt the tears running down my face and over the flesh gag that prevented the world from discovering the horrific event hat was occuring. My father moaned from behind me as me pulled out slowly, only to ram back in faster than last time, forcing me to take in all of him. I screamed and wailed and cried in sheer utter agony as my father ripped and tore me and moaned and grunted at my pain.

'Yes Scipio! I'm so close now!' he finally boomed.
I was hardly able to kneel by then. I felt dead inside and hated my existence.

I screamed so loudly as he came inside me. I felt his fluids rush out of him and into me. It was the most sickening thing of my life. The wretched man I no longer wished to call my father pulled out of me, let go of my shoulder and my mouth, wiped himself clean and pulled up his pants.

'If you ever dare tell anyone of this Scipio, I swear I will hurt you a thousand times worse.' I whimpered knowing this wouldn't be the last time he would get lonely.

I lay there, leaning against the couch. Blood, cum and sweat dripping down my legs. And I properly took in all of what had just happened. And I cried. I cried and cried and screamed and coughed. I cried out of all the care I had for my father, cried out what little respect I had left for him. And as I took the gold shaving blade I had taken from him years ago, and slit my wrists, I knew that not even he hated me as much as I hated my self.

As I came out of the painful memeory, I remembered that I was on the ground, in front of the gang and looked up at Marcio.

'Yes. The rumours are true. To this day he still does touch me and beat me and you know what? People like you don't make my life any easier!' I yelled at him, my voice full of venom.

'Like your life is that difficult, Rich Bitch! ' one of the more less bulky of the group shouted.

'You believe that? Roll up my sleeve. Go on. I dare you.' I said softly.

One of boys snickered and knelt down next to me. He grabbed my wrist and yanked up my sleeve. He lept back in shock and the whole gang gasped. I wiped the blood out of my eyes with my other sleeve and then looked down at my bare arm.

Scarlet lines covered every inch of my arm, from my wrist up to my elbow. You could even see scars from previous cuts under fresher ones. I traced my finger across the one from last night.

'I'm sorry Scipio.' Marcio whispered.

'No I'm sorry.' I said, looking up at him. 'Because I failed.'

'Failed?' the dark haird boy that had stood on my leg asked curiously.

'Yes, Failed. Because every pair of scars-'

'Pair?' the same boy asked.

'Pair. Each scar has matching one one my other arm.' The boy looked shocked. 'As I was saying, I failed. Because I promise you,' I said faintly, 'that every pair of scars, was a suicide attempt...'