Nothing in that house had ever quite been the same since Cronus left. Eridan had thought that for about three years and 358 days. Now, it was his turn to go. He was so excited – so overwhelmed with this feeling, it took everything in him not to scream this excitement to the world. His father didn't know that he intended to leave the following day; he didn't need to know and he WOULDN'T know. Eridan had planned it for months in private because his father would never approve of him moving out into a college estate… For more reasons than one.

Eridan's mother had died when he was at the ripe age of ten years old and he had taken the emotional blow so hard he remained home bound until he started high-school. During that time, Eridan's older brother Cronus had spent all of his time comforting Eridan and trying to keep the boy hidden from whatever the hell was going on outside of his bedroom door. It wasn't until Cronus left that Eridan was opened to this problem. He had often wondered how Cronus got the scar on his head, and how he always came into Eridan's room with a new black eye or cut, scratch or scar. He never asked – Cronus always said he didn't want to talk about it and Eridan respected that. Following his mother's death, his father had begun drinking – obsessively. Eridan, upon his first day of high-school, shouted a mere goodbye into the household with no response and faced the first day alone. To say the least, quite a lot of people were happy to see him back. He enjoyed going to school now, he re-made friends and got along well with his teachers and was fairly popular. The high-school he went to was rather off the beaten track with the number of people in his year massing up to a mere thirty-one. Yes, history class was strange on his first day because of the weird one on one situation he found himself in… High-school was strange to say the least. But when Eridan got home that day – Cronus had left. He came home to find that his brother's musty old car (that he had bought for 20 dollars for a quick get-away car) was no where to be seen. He walked into the house to find his father, whom he had not seen in a long time and, when he did, the man was usually flat out cold and asleep.

"Hey, dad?" Eridan spoke quietly, rather intimidated by the way his father was holding himself, hunched over the table and staring at the kitchen counter-top. The man had turned to look at Eridan, his eyes hollowed and looking like something straight out of any child's worst nightmare, "Where's Cro?" He asked, trying to sound confident but his voice cracking half-way through. His father had stood up from the table and turned, towards Eridan, walking slowly towards him, in such a manner that Eridan walked backwards until his back bumped casually with the front door. He could make a break for it… Couldn't he? Too late. His father grasped Eridan's hand and leaned forward, growling menacingly.

"Never mention that boy's name in my presence ever again" He spoke in a manner that was so much more slurred than Eridan was used to – his face was covered in stubble and, more than anything, the man had reeked of cigarettes and liquor. Feeling weak, Eridan had nodded silently before finding (a mere five minutes later) that he was on the ground, head in his hands and curled up in a ball, head thumping and lip bleeding. No one noticed at school the next day. And now? He had an even bigger reason to worry.

Things had gotten steadily worse since then; all the frustration his father had built up in his drinking came out as aggression on Eridan. The boy simply took it and didn't mention a thing to teachers or friends. He attempted to contact Cronus multiple times and stopped after a month of his brother being gone when he received a message back saying;

The number you are attempting to contact is no longer in service.

The rest of whatever that message had to say was meaningless… He was stuck with no escape – like he was surrounded by hungry tigers and he was the only meat in sight. It was when he turned sixteen and he was of legal age that things went from being bad as beatings to being… Well? Worse.

Now, at the age of eighteen, he was getting out of here. He had bought a car he had asked a friend at the nearby garage to keep a hold of – his father would have trased it if he had seen it. He sighed happily, moving a few last things into the right hand side of his wardrobe. He planned to pack at three in the morning – leaving at four o'clock. He glanced to the clock on the wall as it slowly ticked through to 19:27. He was so ready for this, so ready to escape living between heaven and hell and just get across that god-damn wall already.

Sitting down on his bed, he let a smile cross his face – something he had not done in his home in years. As he stared at his roof he heard it. The door slammed shut and the smile disappeared, the small quake in his left hand returned and a small amount of panic set in. Come on Eridan, you can do this, you can last through this just, don't freak out – alright? Too late. Steadying out his breathing, Eridan attempted to not pay attention to the steps walking up the stairs as he glanced to the door. No… Not today… Any day but today – oh god please. Yes, one of his most fatal flaws. Eridan was always just a few seconds too late.

The door swung open as Eridan stared, eyes wide set like a doe's behind thick framed glasses he had had to save up for months to get because his father wouldn't take him to an optician considering, y'know, "Eridan was the cause of his mother's death" according to Eridan's dad. Silence resounded in the room as Eridan gulped silently. He gripped to the bed covers silently and waited for it.

"You know what to do" Sadly, he did know what to do and, with shaking hands and shaking breath, he stood up silently and bent over, his hands on the bed. Sometimes he wonders if it was his dad who made him bi-sexual in the first place or whether it was when this abuse began feeling kind of good that he realized it. Hands on the mattress, he felt air brush across his thighs like hands wrapping around them, but only for a moment – taking this chance to say goodbye. His boxers were gone in a mere moment too. A bad day – that's what this meant his dad had had and, now, as usual, Eridan got blamed for it.

"Count. Ten" His father barked in such a tone that Eridan could feel the tears beginning to prick in his eyes already. The sharp pain rang through his whole body, the source of which being a hard and consistant firm smack to the ass that his dad had given, making him screech. "One" Eridan choked out. This must have been a REALLY bad day. They were usually bad but not THIS bad! Another sharp pain rag through him, the sound of his own skin being hit leading him to let out another yell, a much harsher one this time "Tw-wo". That's what his dad would comment on, he knew it. When he left once they were done, his stutter would be what was brought up. WELL WHO'S FAULT IS THAT, BITCH?! As if hearing Eridan's train of thought, the third slap was harder; Eridan's voice just not providing him energy to scream anymore. "Three" He gasped out. This repeated. This repeated five times upon each cheek until Eridan was left, tear stains already running down his cheeks and his ass cheeks red and raw. This hadn't been the first time this week he had been spanked, that was for sure. He gasped as suddenly his dad pulled him back and shoved him to the floor. Eridan gagged thinking about calling him that. It wasn't his title anymore – he would much rather bestow it upon someone who meant something to him. He looked up at his dad who had sat on the bed, his knees apart as he gestured between his legs. Great.

Sliding between the two thighs, Eridan breathed out softly. He looked up at his father who was obviously growing incredibly impatient. Sliding his father's boxers down – Eridan caved. He wouldn't escape from this anyway, he had tried hundreds of times and only managed it once… And that was one of the first times it had happened to him, he had grown weakened to this overtime as he learned to enjoy this pain that he was put through – physically and emotionally. The cock jumped up and stuck out towards Eridan at a 100 degree angle. The boy was about to take it with his hand when his father's hand wrapped roughly into his hair. "Open up". Eridan did as he was asked to an became even more shocked when his father's cock shoved into his throat, giving him little to no time to adjust and shocking him beyond belief. But my god, there was something with this feeling that brought pure and utter excitement to this – but it was wrong, he was being raped! The thick rod was jammed deeply into his throat, causing a slight gagging noise to escape from his throat. "Yes… Dirty little slut you are, taking my cock" Was this praise? He was never sure, it sounded like praise but… Hell, why the fuck would his father praise him? Eridan sighed, allowing his throat to relax around the cock in his throat, shutting out how wrong this was. God, he couldn't deny, there was something about the feeling of a cock in his throat that excited him; something about men that he just couldn't get over. He got the same buzz from thinking of men naked as he did thinking of women naked. But right now, he needed to concentrate on not being sick on his father. Sometimes, just the right angle down his throat, he would puke. He would never remember the rest of those nights and would wake up sore; and punished… Very punished.

He glanced up at his father, allowing his dad to take control. Dad. He could have puked again, using such a name, there was no trust in this relationship; just praying that this would be over soon and Ikenna would let him go following this. He sighed out of his nose, keeping eye contact as his father breathed out, his breaths consistently getting shorter. He got lost, finally blocking out what he was doing, just acting as a doll to his father's command. The sudden taste of salt that filled his mouth caused his eyes to snap open and for him to almost be sick. Why the fuck did it taste so bad?! He had sucked dick following what he did with his father – and it never tasted as bad as this. It was most likely that he associated this taste with the horrible things Ikenna did to him. He was let go of, and he gasped down at the floor. He was paying attention when sudden pain - powerful and harsh – filled the side of his head and he collapsed to the floor. His hands gripping to the carpet, he prayed this was it. Please… Let this be the end of it all. "Weak" His father spoke in a such a derogatory manner. The door was slammed and then, it all came flooding out. Tears, salty and wet, began forming a coat on Eridan's face as he let out harsh sobs – hands covering his eyes as he pulled off his glasses so he could wipe his eyes better. How this man was still able to be classed as a human being, he didn't know.

He lay there, curled up in a little ball of pain, tears falling from his eyes, for such a long time. These emotions that he kept bottled up… Was it too much to ask that he shared it with someone? He prayed that it wasn't… Because he needed to. He really – really needed to.

"Alright, why am I here?" The male asked, irritated that he had had to show up to one of these stupid meet-ups in the first place. They were rare, and stupid to attend, there was hardly anything super important discussed in them.

"You're here, like the rest of us, because we have something important we have to talk about" Another of the other men in the room spoke back harshly, tone low and brash. All eyes remained on the two – who had hated each other since the beginning. But still, the two were known for having the most passionate hate sex anyone had ever seen. A soft growl left the first male's mouth as all eyes turned to the head of the meeting.

"Anyone else feeling like making these numbers a bit more… Even?" The female spoke in a tone that could be compared to that of someone in a dream – slightly airy but still very important, someone people would want to listen to for her gentle tone which could easily change in a matter of seconds.

"What, like getting another member?" Another of the females in the room asked, adjusting her grip on the arm chair she was currently, sat in, lips pursing then popping open again - the sound ringing around the room.

"Exactly"