I heard yelling in the kitchen. Mommy was drunk already. I wasn't very good at telling time, since I couldn't read the clocks yet, but I knew it was early in the afternoon. Daddy wasn't home from work yet, but it was after lunch. She had eaten. I had not.

I was only six, but I could read really well. Some nice man I had run into when I was taking a walk took me to a place called a church and taught me to read in something called the Bible. That was last year. Once my parents had found out, I wasn't allowed to walk on the street anymore. I had to stay in the yard. He was such a nice man. He always gave me big hugs and had a treat for me, usually candy. He always told me about how much he missed his son, who had died in the war. He was so kind to me. I really missed him.

"Son? Come here." It always worried me when she was being nice, not screaming at me. I wandered to the kitchen and sat down in the chair in front of her. "What should I name you?" She stroked my face, brushing my hair out of my eyes. My hair was just a little past my shoulders, and snow white. I actually really liked my hair...But Mommy and Daddy didn't.

"H...huh? I...I don't know mommy." I was starting to get scared. She was never nice to me.

"Hmm...How about Lucifer?" She smirked wickedly. I flinched. "What names do you like?"

"I...I...I..." I stammered. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. "I...I like Otis..."

She laughed. "Otis? Where did you see that name?"

"I...i...in the papers...l...like from Duck Soup..."

"Duck Soup? What kind of nonsense are you talking about, you fuckin' dumbass?"

"I...I..." I didn't have a chance to finish before she slapped me across the face.

"You're fuckin' stupid. You're a waste of fuckin' air and time and space." She grabbed my face, squeezing it. "I should have had you aborted. You're the devil's child, not your fathers. No one looks like you do except the children of the devil. Don't you know that?"

I had heard this before. She had told me I was the devil's child as long as I could remember those words making sense. "B...But Mama...I...I didn't do anything wrong..."

She grabbed my throat then. "Don't you tell me you didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who decides that." She squeezed my throat. "I just want a normal son. One who isn't the son of Satan. Those red fuckin' eyes always starin' back at me. I hate them."

I couldn't help my eye color. I didn't understand. I didn't worship Satan, or even really fully understand who he was. I whimpered; her hand hurt around my throat.

An idea must have crossed her mind. "I can make you look more normal." She picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. She sat me down on a stool that she usually made me sit in for hours. She wrapped a towel around my shoulders. I was confused. She pulled scissors and daddy's razor out of a drawer and sat them on the sink. She pulled her fingers through my hair, which was a little past my shoulders. She yanked on it, pulling it away from my head, and started hacking at it with the scissors.

I whimpered. "N...no...Please..."

"Shut the fuck up. At least if you don't have white hair you just look like you're sick. You're a fuckin' freak, but not everyone has to know I gave birth to a sideshow creation."

Once she had chopped most of my hair off, she took the razor to my scalp. She cut me a few times, but I was already crying. It didn't really matter.

When she was done, she kicked the stool out from under me, sending me toppling over. Then she grabbed me, bent me over her knee and pulled my pants down. "You could have been such a beautiful little boy." She spanked me until I couldn't feel it anymore, put me down and gave me a swift kick. I scuttled to my room, diving under my bed and curling into a ball.

I wished I could fold myself into a tiny piece of paper and hide between the cracks int he floorboards so they couldn't see me. Couldn't find me. They wouldn't care. They just wouldn't have their entertainment.

I wasn't sure how much time went by, but I heard my door open. Within seconds, I was being drug out from under my bed. It was my mother. She was drunker now.

She threw me on my bed, climbing on top of me. "You little fucker. You ruined my life since the day I was born. I should have had you fucking aborted." She hit me, pounding and pounding until I couldn't see so much blood was running down my face. "I hate you. I fucking hate you. I should just kill you, but hiding your body isn't worth the fucking trouble, is it?" I sobbed, shaking my head. I was trembling. I couldn't defend myself from her. She would think I was trying to fight back. Then it would be even worse. Her hands were one thing, but when she hit me with a broom or one of Daddy's belts, it was awful. I whimpered, trying to sink into the battered old mattress. "I can't wait till your daddy gets home. He's gonna have a real good time with you tonight." She slapped me one more time before she left. I had no idea what she meant by that. Usually they only beat me...what else did they have in mind?

I rested on my bed, taking in what little sleep I could. I startled awake when I heard glass breaking. Maybe, he wouldn't look in my closet for me. Maybe if he didn't see me lying here right away he would leave me alone.

"Where are you, you little shit?" He laughed cruelly. "Where are you, little mouse?"

I shuddered. I could feel my heart pounding.

"Where are you?" I heard him slamming the drawers in the dresser, then a long silence. He whipped open the closet door and I screamed. I tried to run away, but he grabbed me, clapping a hand over my mouth. He held me by my throat, throwing me on the bed. "You think you can get away from me?" He hit me and the room spun. A cigarette hung from his lip, ashes falling on me.

"P...p...please...I...I...I'll be good." I trembled, fighting back tears. He hated it when I cried. It made him angrier.

"Hmm..." He smirked. "What makes you think you're not being good? What did you do?"

"H...huh?" Terror coursed through my veins. I didn't know what to do. "I...D...didn't do a-anything..."

He tapped the ashes off of his cigarette. He paused for a moment, then lifted my shirt and put it out on my skin. I shrieked in pain as he laughed. "Boy, do you want me to love you?"

My eyes lit up. I wanted them to love me more than anything. I just wanted some kind of affection. I just wanted to be held and kissed and loved, like other kids. I sat up abruptly, forgetting for a moment who I was talking to. "Yes! More than anything! Please, Daddy!"

He was amused, but his expression turned darker. "What makes you think you deserve love? You're the spawn of Satan. No one will ever love you. You're worthless, ugly and evil. I'll show you what you do deserve." He tore off my pants and flipped me so that I was lying on my stomach. I had no idea what he was going to do next. "Get on your knees. Stay facing the wall.

I shook. What was he going to do to me? Why did I deserve this? He grabbed my head and shoved it into the bed. The position hurt my back and made my butt stick out. I didn't like it.

I screamed when I felt him slam into me. I clawed at the bed, desperately trying to get away. I managed to get out of his grasp and fell all over myself on the floor. I tried to get to the door, but my mother blocked it. He eventually cornered me, towering over me. I curled into a ball and sobbed. There was nothing else I could do.

"You little shit. You fucking LITTLE SHIT." He threw punch after punch until blood stained his fist. He picked me up and drug me back to the bed, putting me in the same position. This time, he was even rougher as he slammed into me again. I wished lightning would come and strike him dead. Maybe it would kill us both and I wouldn't have to hurt anymore. I'm not sure how long it went on, but it seemed like forever. When he was done, he flipped me over onto my back. I never felt pain like I did now. Blood ran from between my legs. He stared at me, chuckling. I lowered my head submissively. "You liked that, didn't you?"

I shook my head, avoiding his eyes. "N...no..." He brought his hand down on my ribs, hard enough for me to hear them crack. I screamed, writhing against him. He moaned.

"Tell me you like it. TELL ME YOU LIKE IT YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE SLUT." He slapped me across the face. "TELL ME YOU LIKE IT WHEN I FUCK YOU."

Sobbing, tears obscuring my vision, I looked at him. "I l...like it...w...when y...you fuck me..."

"Good...I own you now. Always remember that. Even when you're a grown man. Always remember you're mine." I heard he door click behind him, and started to sob. I cried until I felt like I couldn't cry anymore. I tried to sleep, but I was in so much pain that night, I hardly could. I just wanted them to love me. I wanted them to hold me and give me kisses and hug me and tell me how much they loved me.