Ever since Riker was born, he'd been taught the rules.
You eat what you're given, and nothing more. No taking food from the kitchen, no taking food from strangers. If these rules are broken, you get a beating. If anyone asks where the bruises are from, tell them you got into a fight, and it turned bad. Never tell anyone the truth about your life at home. You never miss a day of school, or a single assignment. You never break school rules unless it is to lie about your home life. You never get anything lower than a B in each class. If these rules are broken, you get a beating, and aren't allowed to eat for three days. You never talk back to your parents. You never question them, you never disrespect them, you never lie to them. If these rules are broken, you get a beating, and are locked in the closet for three days without food or water.
Harsh rules, he knew. But, that was just how life was for him. He got along pretty well otherwise. He did well in school, and rarely received only times he did break the rules were in times of pure desperation. This was one of those times.
He was so hungry. He was faint, and feared he may pass out. If he did, and ended up in the hospital, he might be questioned about his life. It was either take a beating, or take a beating and be starved for three days. The option was clear.
He heard the whistle to call them in from recess, to go to lunch. He held in his hand a fistful of quarters, as he walked to get in line. He collected them, for times like these, and kept them in his friends pencil box. He knew that Ellington took a couple without asking from time to time, but Riker supposed that was just the price he paid for his parents not finding out about his money. That's another rule. No money. Anything you find goes to them.
As they were led into the cafeteria, instead of sitting down at the tables like he did every day, he got in line to buy school lunch. He placed a piece of cheese pizza on his tray, and picked up an apple and a carton of milk as well. He paid, and walked over, to sit down beside Ellington.
"So you're eating today?" Ell asked, between mouthfuls of potato chips. "That's good, dude, you're practically a skeleton. Riker nodded silently, taking a guilty bite of his pizza. He ate slowly, taking breaks between each bite to sip his milk. He had barely eaten half of his lunch before his stomach started to hurt. He wasn't used to this much food, so he passed the rest to Ell, who ate thankfully.
His mind was buzzing with nervousness for the rest of the day. He knew that he had to tell his dad about what he did. If he lied, and his dad found out, it would be much worse. Still, getting a beating was terrifying, especially when he knew it was coming.
He walked home extra slow that day, his heart pounding. He couldn't help but wonder how bad it would be. Maybe he'll only use the belt. Riker thought hopefully. The belt was the least painful of anything his dad had ever done. When Riker was about six, the slaps turned to punches, the kicks got harder, and chokings for longer. That's why he dreaded growing older. He wondered how it could get worse, but still knowing it most certainly could.
He almost skipped out, and went home with Ell, but he knew that it would only delay the inevitable. His hands began to shake as he walked up the front porch, and opened the door to his home. He walked inside and shut the door behind him. He called out for his father. "Dad..?"
His dad came downstairs, and looked him up and down. "What do you need, son?"
Riker swallowed hard. "I need to tell you something. I broke a rule."
His father stepped closer to him. "Which one? What did you do?" There was only a hint of anger in the man's voice, as he was very good at suppressing his emotions until they needed to appear. It made it all the more terrifying for Riker.
"I..I got f-food from s-school."
As soon as the words had left his mouth, there was a sharp smack across his jaw that almost put him on his knees. He was shoved to the ground by his shoulders, where he instinctively curled in on himself. The tears started immediately, as his whole body was aching already, and this was only the beginning. His father landed a kick to his stomach, and reached down to drag him across the living room by his hair. He started begging as his father opened the basement door, and screamed as he was flung down the hard concrete steps.
He landed at the bottom, sobbing, while his father walked down after him. He was pushed up against the wall, his feet lifted off the floor as the man's fingers wrapped around his throat. Riker kicked and squirmed until there were black spots in his vision, and was then dropped to the floor unexpectedly, where he crumpled. His father made him stand straight by pulling him up by his hair, and then landed a painful punch underneath Riker's jaw.
Riker, now face down on the concrete, was begging, screaming for it to be over, promising that he will never do it again. His father pulled him up by his hair, and ordered him to support himself. "Shirt off, face the wall." The man spat at him. Riker weakly pulled his shirt over his head, and braced himself on the wall, his feet slightly more than shoulder width apart.
He heard the clinking of his father's belt being removed, and shut his eyes tightly. The man whipped the leather over his son's back, hard. Riker cried out, and his knees buckled. "Get up!" His father screamed, and he forced himself back into a standing position. Riker took one hit after another, it all melding into a sea of pain and agony. At some point, his dad switched tactics, now whipping with the metal end as well. Riker could feel the blood dripping down his back, and all of the many scars and bruises he was sure to obtain from this beating alone.
"Hope it was worth it, you little shit. Stay down here the rest of the night, then, if you're gonna keep begging for me to stop." His father said, before turning and walking up the steps, slamming the door behind him.
Only then did Riker fall to the ground, curling up into a ball. He now let all of his tears go, choked sobs leaving his lips. He felt the blood beginning to dry in brown streaks on his back, and he rolled over to face the ceiling, the concrete cooling the pain. His chest heaved with exhaustion, and his vision still spotted with color.
He waited a few minutes before moving, as he knew getting up too soon may bring his dad back downstairs, thinking he could take more. This wasn't the first time he's had to spend the night in the basement. There were no lights, so when the sun went down, he'd be trapped in total blackness. There were mice and spiders in every crevice, and moths littering the rafters along the ceiling. It was every child's nightmare.
Riker brought himself to a sitting position, wincing as the blood on his back stuck to the floor, tearing open the wounds again. He couldn't put his shirt back on tonight, either. His dad might just beat him again for getting blood on his clothes.
Pushing himself weakly to his feet, Riker started his ritual of 'walking it off'. While the rational part of his brain knew that it didn't help at all, he had managed to convince himself at a young age that he could dispel most of the pain just by rhythmically walking in a circle.
He did this until the sun had began to set, and exhaustion started creeping it's way into his bones. He knew that he was not going to be able to sleep down there, he never had been able to before. Still, as the evening progressed, he decided that it was 'bedtime'. Riker laid down in the center of the floor, as far away from the other creatures he was pretending not to see. He curled up, still shirtless, on the freezing concrete. He couldn't get blood on anything, so even though there were blankets down there, he couldn't use them. It felt like trying to sleep in a refrigerator.
That night was horrendous. Riker got absolutely no sleep, as the mix of pain, cold, and fear would not even allow him to close his eyes. He felt as if spiders were crawling all over his body, and he swore that he was being circled by the rats. By the time the sun did come up, he was shaking violently and uncontrollably.
He almost flew to his feet in joy when he heard the unlocking of the basement door. Bending down slowly to pick up his shirt, Riker made his way to the door, and opened it hesitantly. His father was seemingly already back asleep on the couch. Walking silently up the stairs, Riker made his way into his room, and shut the door gently. Finally. It was really over.