AN: WARNING! Brief Rape/Incest. If you can't handle it, I wouldn't read..

The boy could hear nothing over the roar of his heart in his throat and his ragged breathing as he hid far beneath his bed. He could just imagine his father downstairs, drunk once again, slamming things around in search of his personal punching bag.

"Kenyon!" His father's slurred speech was nearing the stairs leading up to Kenyon's small room, "You'd better come out here and face me like a man, you little chicken shit!" Kenyon cringed farther back into the wall and covered his mouth with a delicate hand in an attempt to quiet his sobs. He just wanted to go to bed and dream of better times, back when his beautiful mother had still been alive and his father had still loved him. Those times were gone now. All that was left was a marble urn of ashes and a broken, hateful man.

Kenyon waited silently for a few more moments, wondering if his father had stopped his search. He very carefully poked his head out from beneath the bed, listening for any noise and becoming slightly unsettled when he heard nothing. Had his father hurt himself or passed out? Even though the man hated his son, Kenyon still worried for his father everyday and hated to see him so down.

Very slowly, the boy cracked his door open, wincing at the squeak it emitted. Light from the hallway flooded the dark room and Kenyon stuck his head out to get a look around. His father was no where in sight so he continued down the stairwell. With each step, his heart beat faster and faster in worry. Where could his father be?

Once at the bottom of the stairs, he turned to search the kitchen and was met with a firm back hand to the cheek. He hit the floor hard, whimpering softy as he cradled his fragile cheek that was already swelling. Before he could scurry away or even look up to face his attacker, his father had a hand around his thin arm, dragging him up to eye level.

"There you are, you nasty little thing." Kenyon recoiled from the strong scent of vodka that laced the angry man's breath, "Thought you could hide from me, huh? Well all that'll get you is double the punishment for being such a little shit." With that, Kenyon was thrown over the back of the couch, his worn, stripped pajama bottoms ripped down his slender hips to reveal his pale bottom. Kenyon never knew what he had done to be such a bad boy as his father referred to himself but he figured it must have been bad enough to deserve the beatings. He just wanted to make his father happy. He was a bad boy. He couldn't do anything right.

He tried his best not to complain or cry as his father violently brought his bare hand down on the boy's reddening cheeks. He didn't want to upset him anymore. After what seemed like ages of strikes, Kenyon was beginning to weave in and out of conscience and he involuntarily let out a weak plea, "I'm s-sorry, daddy.."

His father stopped immediately and Kenyon instantly regretted what he'd said, wishing he could rewind time and stop himself. It was silent for a life time and Kenyon was anxious to face his impending doom. He was becoming increasingly aware of how numb his bottom had become and he wondered if he'd ever get the feeling back in it when suddenly his father spoke.

"No you're not. You will be though." Kenyon's breath caught in his throat. What on earth did his father mean by that? Suddenly, he heard the sound of trousers being unzipped and small grunts from his father. He was filled with an entirely new feeling of dread. Anything but this. He suddenly was feeling much more bold.

"No! Daddy please! I'll do anything! I'll be good I promi- Argghh!" Before he could finish he had suddenly been invaded in the worst way, forcing a blood-curdling scream out of the boy. His father grunted heartily behind him, his hand roughly grabbing Kenyon's delicate shoulders as he forced his manhood far inside the virginal cavern of his own 16-year-old son.

"Mmph, damn boy, you're a tight little sonofabitch." Kenyon could barely hear him over his own cries and tears. He felt so uncomfortably full and broken as his own father began to quicken his pace, violating Kenyon in his most intimate place. He never believed his father could be so cruel. He felt himself disconnect from his own pained body as his father pleasured himself. He barely noticed when his father exited him, letting the boy fall to the ground, bleeding and broken.

His father had never done anything so awful. Kenyon didn't know why.. but he knew he was a bad boy. Why couldn't he just do something right? It was his own fault.. he deserved.

When he finally gathered the strength to stand, he winced at the sharp pain from his behind and reached a small hand around to feel the drying blood and other substance that seeped from his soiled orifice. Fresh tears were forming at the thought of what his father had done and he knew he couldn't stay there anymore.

As quickly as he could, he ran to his room, throwing on a faded set of jeans and a sweater and cap that was too big for him. He filled his old backpack with various items; the picture of his mother when she was young, a sleeping bag, his favorite book, a box of cereal, a bag of beef jerky and a few bottles of water. Silently, he slipped out the screen door of his house and began running towards the expanse of trees that framed the side of his home. The moon was high in the sky by this point and he could feel the exhaustion from the pain in his bottom slowing him down as he moved farther into the dark woods, unsure of where he was going. He just knew he had to distance himself from the disease that was his home.

The creature had finished his evening meal long ago, the bloody remains littering the destroyed campsite he'd had his feast at. He slipped in and out of the trees, the full moon illuminating his eerily white face, casting shadows on the dark indents where his eyes and mouth would have been. He was the terror of the night, striking fear into the heart of those unfortunate enough to come face to face with him, and that's how he like it.

He moved silently for a while longer before he heard a small sound from far off to his left. Without a moment's hesitation, he changed direction and quickly located the source.

The boy was small, no taller than the creatures naval, and he was as pale as cream, his skin impossibly smooth. He wore clothes which looked ridiculously too big for him and a pack which he looked as though he was barely able to lift, let alone tote around for a long period. He stunk of fear and the creature greedily licked his lips. He may have already had his dinner but that didn't mean he didn't deserve a midnight snack. He watched as the small boy fell to his knees, his raven hair falling in front of his grey eyes which appeared to glow under the shine of the moon, nearly stirring something inside the creature which he promptly ignored. He was simply another meal, that's all.

AN: I apologize for anyone who might have been offended by what happened between Kenyon and his father but you know.. his dad's an awful dude. I really hope you guys enjoyed the start and I will plan to have the next chapter up by around Wednesday or Thursday. :] Lemme know what you all think! Feedback is what gets the chapters done faster! Much love!

-Roxy