Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Hey guys, I'm back! I am so sorry for being off the site for so long, I've been so busy! This idea came to me and I hope you guys like it. Updates will be fairly slow, I will finish as fast as I can. Enjoy!
By the way, this story takes place when Oz is 15, Gilbert is 21, and Oz never went to the abyss.
.o.O.o. (8 years in the past)
Oz laid in his bed staring blindly at his baby blue ceiling, which had taken on a navy tint from the darkness seeping into the room through the window. Shadows of tree branches swaying in the wind danced across the walls. An occasional thump resounded throughout the small room as a tree banged on the window, demanding entry. Several toys and stuffed animals littered the floor, forever abandoned.
The blond blinked slowly, forcing his eyes to stay open as he battled the growing exhaustion pulling him under. He jumped, hearing a sudden loud bang from the first floor of the house; the front door opening and closing. His head slowly turned to look at his innocent white door, it's paint chipping away from many years of abuse. Angry stomps made their way to the door, making the floor tremble beneath them.
Oz blinked again, and the door swung open creating a thunderous boom upon impact with the wall. He did not jump at the sound, as he had expected it after the first. There was sure to be a dent. A tall, buff man stomped across the room to Oz's bed, looming over the small bundle of sheets menacingly. The boy was harshly slapped across the cheek, sending him sprawling onto the cold hardwood floor opposite the man. He held a hand to the red flesh where he'd been hit, feeling a wet warmth drip down his face and onto his fingers.
"Stand up!" The man boomed in a deep, menacing voice. Oz immediately obeyed, getting to his feet with difficulty, disorientated from exhaustion and the slap. He stood staring emotionless at the man, displaying neither fear nor shock from the blow. Blood dripped off his chin and fell to the floor, beginning to form a crimson puddle on the floor beneath his feet.
"Come here." Oz walked swiftly across the floor, positioning himself in front of the man obediently, earning himself another hard cuff; this time to the ear. The blond collapsed to a heap on the floor, his ear ringing so loudly that he could not hear the man when he ordered him to get up again.
The man proceeded to kick the boy in the chest, stomach and back, mercilessly spewing insults with every blow. Each kick caused a muffled shriek or cry upon impact with the boy. "You're a filthy excuse for a son!" Zai roared as he kicked the boy in the neck, causing him to gasp, attempting to breathe through his partially crushed windpipe.
"Filthy rat!"
"You should have never been born!"
"You don't deserve to exist!"
It was obvious the man hated him. It was obvious he felt that the child deserved the beating as well. Every one of his blows was confident and strong, the mark of a man who had no doubt that what he was doing was right.
But it wasn't right.
Oz laid as motionless as possible, trying not to fan the flames of his father's anger. Tears pricked at his eyes as he silently agreed with every word he said to him, knowing that they were true. He wasn't wanted. He was a vain existence. It was as simple as that. He believed those words with every fiber of his being.
But that didn't make the abuse easier to deal with. Each blow that hit him, every bruise and cut that was left on him brought on a stinging, relentless pain. Tears flowed fast and silent down his face, leaving not even a track in their wake. It hurt, it hurt so much, but could never compare to the pain in his heart put there by his father's words.
Why didn't his father want him? If he hated him so much, why didn't he just kill him or abandon him? Why force himself to be around someone he despised so much?
It hurt, it hurt so much to feel hated so fiercely. He never felt wanted or loved or anything other than despised. The pain of it, the agony of the hatred his father had for him was crushing his lungs more than any kick or punch could.
Oz lost track of time, lost in the chaos of his father's fit of rage. Zai eventually stopped attacking him but not before he had reduced the boy to a bloody mess. The hardwood floor had now become a dark crimson where Oz lay, a mess that would no doubt take hours to clean. Zai began to beat Oz again, his anger renewed by the pooling blood pouring out of his son.
Oz was silent this time, no longer able to produce sound. His vocal cords had been strained to the point of lameness, refusing to endure the abuse they were being put through. The boy was now completely motionless, paralyzed in pain. He could do nothing to try and stop his attacker; any attempt to stop him was in vain regardless.
This fit of rage didn't last quite as long as the first, but by its end Oz was barely clinging to consciousness. His father threw him onto his bed before climbing in after him, flipping the boy on his back and pressing him into the sheets. Oz knew what was going to happen next, dreading knowing he wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for the next few days.
Finally, as his father began to undress him, he allowed his body to succumb to the crushing exhaustion he was enduring, almost instantaneously losing consciousness.
Alright, that's it for the first chapter, I know it's short. Sorry. This is just the beginning of a heartwarming story even though it doesn't seem like it. Gilbert appears in the next chapter, and I promise it will be a lot longer.
I hope you guys like this, I've been taking advanced writing classes so hopefully my writing has improved somewhat. If you guys have any suggestions for me I'm always open to ideas, flames and praise will be accepted. Again, I will try to get the next chapter out as fast as I can. See you guys soon!