Chapter II

Night had fallen, and with it the noise went up into shouts and clamors. Women played with fire and tigers roared as they were teased and tempted into attacks. Men drank and laughed at the display of the stunted individuals who 'tripped' for their amusement, their stubby legs were more then used to walking. These smaller individuals only pretended to fall so that the taller ones would laugh, pick them up, and pass them around like children.

And somewhere in a tent separate from the more 'appropriate' shows there was another type of noise. One more angry and forceful then even the crowd was comfortable with.

"Get up!" The man shouted from outside the cage. The audience who had filled the small tent stretched onto their toes to watch with interest from outside of the circular cage which encased the man and the thing.

From within the rectangular prison the devil's child glared at his feet stubbornly. They were encased in small brown shoes. The shoes themselves were too small, too torn, too tight, and his nails were cracked, broken from the ill-fitting things he had been forced to endure for so long.

"I said get up!" The man roared at him, pressing his face against the cage so hard that it threatened to pop in between the bars at any given moment.

The devils son raised his gaze up, not flinching when he heard the horrified gasps of women and men alike. They all inched back, away from him as if he had sent out a wave of water towards them, but he knew very well that it was just disgust at his face. Women wailed and shrieked. He even caught sight of one fainting out of the corner of his eye, and a man fanned her while keeping his eyes locked on the demonic boy.

"Stand up," the black eyed man spit from the other side of his cell.

Narrowing his eyes the boy stood, stooping a little low as the holding space did not allow him to stand to his full height. They always played this game, he and the man who deemed himself his Master. The boy would put on a show of defiance, the man would viciously demand things of him, and in the end whether he followed the orders as soon as they were demanded of him, or not, he was whipped.

"Come here, boy," the man ordered lowly.

Slowly the male came forward, balling his skinny fingers until his hands formed a fist. All around him people shuddered, repulsed at the sight of him.

When he reached the front of the cage the man unlocked it and released him into the open area inside of another circular cage. The audience stood just outside of it.

How proper, the 'child' thought with a glint in his stare as he waited for further instruction.

"Shall we punish the heathen?" The man cried out to the crowd, they all consented with either silence or shouts of agreement, "shirt off boy!"

He hated this part.

Taking off his already torn shirt he could hear the sounds of revulsion as they moved through the crowd. It always reminded him of just how disgusting he truly was. Even he did not dare look down at his body, afraid of what he might find there.

Without warning the man snapped his arm out and a hot slice cut across the boy's chest, he released a hiss and stiffened, the pain flared and he clenched his jaw, shivering at it and glaring at the man as he gave him a savage grin and his hand flashed out again. This time the smaller male saw the whip as it came, he bared himself as it sliced across his stomach this time. Men shouted for a more brutal punishment as the younger male began to crack under the pain.

The ringleader was hitting him harder now, approaching as the boy backed away, turning his body this way and that to try and disperse the lashes. His arms came up on his head as he began to sinking to the ground, over and over the lashes fell on his back, so hard, so quickly, with such an amazing precision that he could not focus on anything else.

Even the sound of the laughter and wailing had drifted. He had once thought that the wails were of pity, but it became all too clear that they were of regret for what they had stepped into, not for him as much for themselves. The old scars on his back protested against the new ones being built upon it. He wondered if his back looked like a valley of drained rivers and mountain ranges. He imagined there were a few volcanos there too, and perhaps craters as well.

"Stand up boy!" the man yelled over him.

This routine once again? He thought without saying anything. His breathing was shallow, and with some difficulty he came to a stand, knowing what was coming next. Locking his jaw he stared at the man dangerously, promising him death, perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but one day.

His fist connected with the young male's stomach violently. He would have vomited if there was anything to release.

He kicked, and punched at the demonic child, watching him crumple and struggle to breathe as his bones protested. It was a shock to everyone involved, including the victim of the beating, that his bones hadn't snapped from any of this yet.

When the ordeal was over, and he was seeing lights, the show ended with a claim that God would be satisfied that Satan's child was punished that night. A roar of clapping went up in the air and the man led all the people out, well aware that the boy was in no condition to move.

One day, the miserable boy thought as he breathed through the pain in his lungs, you will find that I am standing over your corpse Javert, his wrists shrieked with pain as he struggled to sit up. He gave up and flopped back down. Rolling onto his side and staring at the darkness of his closed lids with his arms thrown over his head, he struggling to breathe. His lungs were on fire again. I will end your life happily. Then you will know that I am not the devil's child, but the devil himself.

He began a slow crawl towards the cage again, seeking the solace of his mask.

On his hands and knees he entered and reached forward for the thing that shielded his entire face. It was cut crudely out of what he believed to be a cow and then given to him as a gift. He had taken it silently and put it on, well aware of how others laughed at the sight of the crudely cut thing. But it worked.

Quietly he lowered himself down to the hay and held onto his ribs, it felt as if though they were going to pop out of his thin skin at any moment.

He had not noticed the blue eyed shadow who had watched the ending of the show with tears in her eyes and hands clapped over her mouth.

She ran out of there quickly before he could notice, unsure if she wanted to work here after all.

Christine moved quickly through the carnival areas and tried to keep her eyes peeled for anyone who might be watching her. But her eyes were blurry from what she had just seen and her mind was filled with visions of the body. Bloody, thin, skeletal in every sense of the word. She had not gotten a good look, and she had not even seen the boy's face, but she knew that it had to be something horrible, for people murmured of his demonic appearance.

Papa would be horrified, she thought as she was about to slip out of the carnival area. But then she stopped.

How long has that poor boy been enduring this? The thought made her tremble and she turned around once quickly, staring back at all the people who laughed at the spectacles around them. Flames on torches lit all of the wide open area.

"I should not get involved," she muttered as she looked back to the tent. It was black and it had a painted sign with religious markings all over it, it was far from all the other more childlike attractions, and it was also the only one that was black, "this is not my place," she muttered with annoyance as she marched towards the carnival are again, eyeballing a man who stood by fruits of all kinds in woven baskets. There were apples, oranges, and even peaches! The chilly wind stirred the air and Christine eyeballed them hungrily. How long had it been since she had an apple? How long had it been since the 'Devil's Child' within the tent had one too?

Christine easily stepped by him and then proceeded to steer herself towards the black tent, upon seeing the man with the whip entering it she quickly diverted her track and left the carnival area.

She would return tomorrow.

She felt underneath her cloak discreetly as she walked down the streets, this time with two things, an apple for herself and a peach for the boy.


Woo! So that's chapter II. I hope that you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it :) Please let me know what you think. And YES there will be dialogue, so don't worry :) And a huge huge huge thank you for FP33 For her encouraging words and her beta'ing :)

Review!