A ten year old Armin Sat curled up in a ball behind the couch. Crying softly as he listened to the sound of his drunk father throwing around empty beer bottles at the wall, causing them to shatter.
"Where the hell are you, you little shit?!"
Armin whimpered, covering his ears with his tiny hands. Taking in shaky breaths as his father continued to scream for him. It had been like this for months now, ever since his mother had died, Armin's father had been going out to bars and returning home drunk to beat the boy until he was near death. Sometimes, Armin had a few days of peace, when his father wouldn't come home for days, sometimes weeks.
Those days where his favorite. He wouldnt have to lie, and cover up injuries from his friends, he didn't have to worry about messing up and earning a beating, even if he knew he deserved them.
Oh, Armin knew he deserved to be beat.
He knew he deserved to be punched and kicked, he knew he deserved to be slapped and yanked around.
He knew.
Because he had killed his mother.
At least, that's what his father told him.
It was his fault she took those sleeping pills, ot was his fault she didn't want to live anymore. It was all his fault, just like all his dad's other problems where.
It was his fault his dad drank, it was his fault his dad lost his job. It was his fault his dad couldn't pay the bills. It was his fault. Everything wrong in this world was Armin's fault.
And Armin knew that.
So, when the ten year old was yanked from behind the couch, he didn't struggle. He took every kick, punch, and slap without so much as a sound. He didn't protest, as his father lifted him off the ground, and shook him violently. Yelling about how he ruined his life, how he was a mistake, and should if never have been born.
Oh, Armin already knew.
His father threw him against a wall, and Armin slumped down. Staring blankly up at his father. Armin knew what he was, he knew exactly.
He was unwanted.