/For those of you who don't know, I have a headcannon that before Eric went to live with the Undertaker and the other 4 as a child reaper (another makes-zero-sense headcanon) he was living with an abusive couple who were pretty much merciless to him. Though changed from my headcannon a bit, This is a (short-ish) fanfic about Eric remembering those days. Please don't judge me too harshly for this - writing is my catharsis and this sort of stuff happens sometimes. (Under read more as it could be triggering - though I kept it as mild as I could)
Everything came flooding back to us once matron accidentally blurted out about Undertaker looking after us before we went to the academy. Meeting back with the Undertaker at the house we had grew up in was emotional for all of us and was in fact probably the first time I had seen the others cry that way. While all the happy memories returned of my time there, I started to remember before as well.
It was one evening whilst I was at home with Alan, the two of us curled up together in silence.
"How could someone be so cruel?" I mumbled. "How could they treat a child like that?"
"Eric? What do you mean?" Alan looked up at me, his brow furrowed.
"I mean before I came to the Undertaker. Even if those scars are long since healed, I can remember the way they treated me. And to think I had been so excited to go there, to meet the person, or people, who would look after me, only to be treated as less than nothing…"
I still remember the day I arrived there. After my appearance I was taken back to the dispatch, like every reaper baby, to be cared for, fed and washed and clothed and fitted with glasses. We were by no means like human babies, maybe having the body of a toddler on the day we were found. There was another boy there, one who was already living with someone else. He told me I'd be sent somewhere nice. "Somewhere where you'll get presents and sweets and toys someone who loves you!" That's what he had said. Naturally I was excited, wanting desperately to get there and see what it would all be like.
The couple lived in a castle-like house, and they smiled down at me when they first saw me in my basket. I struggled free of the blanket and held my arms out to them, grinning. I was handed over and the heavy door was closed - one I'd be thrown against frequently after the first night.
The lady of the couple threw me down on the kitchen table, making me dizzy. I crawled out of the basket and headed towards her, where she was heating milk for me.
"Eric Slingby, you get back into your basket this instant!" she shouted.
I rushed back quickly, clutching at the blanket and whimpering in fear. Earlier at the dispatch everyone who had seen me had talked to me in gentle tones, and this shout was scary and unfamiliar.
Once she had hold of me in one arm I calmed down, suddenly hungry despite my having a bottle not too long ago at the dispatch. A mug was held to my mouth and tipped up slightly. This being my first day I was not accustomed to this, only having used a bottle and still learning. I choked, coughing and spluttering and turning my head away.
"What is it fussing about?" the man snapped, coming over and glaring down at me.
I held my arms out to him. "Please, can't drink from it!"
He took hold of me, slamming me down on my back on the table. I started yelling, struggling as he pinched my nose to keep my mouth open.
"We'll help with that then, shall we?"
He kept me pinned down while his wife poured the milk into my mouth. I had no choice but to swallow it, but she was too fast for me to keep up and I kept choking so it overflowed and poured over my face.
When they finally let me go I screamed properly, scared and hurting from the way they had treated me. The man swore and hit me hard, causing me to cry harder. It hurt and I was terrified. At first I thought the boy from earlier had lied to me. I soon learnt that wasn't the case.
Every second of those memories had etched themselves back into my mind. Alan was clinging to me, listening to every word I had to say. I could see the shock in his eyes, from the way they dressed me in rags and sold off everything I had arrived with just to have money for themselves to the way they hurt and starved me every day.
Once I had stopped needing milk my once a day meal stopped. I'd always sit on the kitchen floor while they ate in the other room, hoping every day that they'd look at me, show a little pity and give me some of what they had left over after their tea. I was weak, bruised and bloody and beaten, living with a constant sharp pain in my stomach. I seen learnt not to ask them for anything: the only result was a kick or a slap which made things a lot worse. Even though I was living on the rain water that dripped through the ceiling in my room and whatever I could salvage when no one was looking, they still made me do a lot for them. Even when I fell ill they dragged me out of bed and made me shovel snow barefoot from the long pathway in front of the castle. I always did my best, even if I was howling with pain and hunger and hurt throughout, I'd do as well as I could, hoping that they'd feed me or give me a cuddle for being good. It never happened.
I was an object and a slave to them. I slept in a box in the attic by the broken window, huddled in an old sack I'd found in the garden and managed to sneak upstairs. I didn't get much sleep as it was always freezing, even in warmer weather, and the rats scurrying around scared me. Cold was as much a part of my life as hurt and hunger. Even when they found time to wash me it was outside, stripped down and washed with freezing water, often rainwater from the water-butt they kept outside. I cried each and every time and each and every time I'd be beaten afterwards for being 'pathetic'.
Not long before I was taken away I remember the tinniest bit of affection, if you could call it that. The man had called my name in a gentle tone and I'd rushed to him, thinking he'd taken pity and was going to hug me.
"There you are!" He smiled, gathering me up and holding me in one arm.
I rested my head against his arm, smiling up at him, thinking they liked me now. I started coughing a bit at the smoke from his cigarette but I tried not to let it bother me. He pushed up my ragged shirt, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"It appears I've lost my ash tray" he said. "Could you do me a little favor and be a fill-in for me?"
I should have seen it coming. I didn't exactly know what an ashtray was until he pressed the cigarette against my stomach to put it out, laughing as I screamed in agony. He let me go and I rushed upstairs, grabbing the rag from my box and wetting it with rainwater to press against the burn, yelling at the top of my voice and knocking my glasses off in my panic.
The day I was taken away from there was the happiest and most terrifying of my life. It was about midday. I heard the argument and then I was in a basket, wrapped up tight in a blanket with a familiar face looking at me. It was all a blur in my memory until we pulled up in a carriage outside a little house with a green front door and a silver 72 in metal numbering on it. I was still crying as the door opened and a silver haired man looked at us in shock.
"Now I know I said I'd take on another, but surely he didn't just appear?"
The man who had rescued me briefly explained my situation while I strained to see inside the house. I could hear laughter of children around my own age, could sense the warmth and love from inside. I was lifted up in my blanket by the new man.
"Hello there, little Eric Slingby" he said softly, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "I am Undertaker. I'll be taking care of you now"
I cried harder and even though it was difficult at first, I grew to love it there.
"You went through hell and back" Alan said softly, leaning up to kiss me. "But you got through it and you got strong. You're here now. You'll always be safe. I'll protect you"
I smiled a bit at that. "You were always there for me. When the others didn't know how to react to my terror at nearly everything you still came and crawled up onto the armchair, handing me a toy to hold and hugging me. We were close even back when we were little ones"
Alan nodded. "We were like that before you went to the academy and after I was out of there. We're even closer now we remember our backgrounds"
"Y'know, even though it's horrible what I went through, I'm glad I know. Not many of us do… I love you, Alan. Thanks for always being here for me"
"I'll always be here.."