"I loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

"For fucks sake, can someone get this kid to shut up!" His mother's voice rang in his ears as Corvus stood before her, hot tears streaming down his face as he attempted to keep the snot from running down his slightly parted lips. Each sob he stifled left him exhaling hot breath. "What's he cryin' about now?" asked a deeper voice from another room. "Cut his finger on the kitchen knife," his mother replied, not even bothering to make eye contact with her son.

Corvus felt another sob catch in his throat as his right hand clenched firmly over his left index finger, which was bleeding from the knife wound. His father entered the room, grinding his teeth, "God damn it boy! What did I tell you about messing with the kitchen knives?"

"I…I just wanted to help cut the carrots…" sniffled Corvus, his eyes looking down at the wooden floor. He forced himself to take interest in the cracks in the floorboards, and the way they squeaked as he shifted his weight to his other foot. He felt a thick hand firmly grasp his arm, causing him to yelp out in surprise. "C'mon," his father said gruffly, taking him to the kitchen. He was shoved down onto one of the seats, his father looming over him dangerously. Behind him, Corvus could see the cutting table with half a carrot messily chopped into uneven pieces. On the floor resided the knife that was ever so hastily dropped from pain.

"What do I keep tellin' ya, boy?" His father sneered, his dark eyes looking into Corvus's.

"Not to—"

"Not to fuck with things!" his father interrupted, raising his voice.

"I just wanted to help…" Corvus murmured hopelessly, knowing his words were a lost cause to his father.

"What you call help is a nuisance to this family," his father replied, giving him a hard look. "You were given the name Corvus for a reason," he continued, cruelness dwelling deep within his dark eyes. "Your mother and I didn't even want you. You were an accident, you hear me? An accident. Ever since you were a baby, you have been a nuisance your mother and I. You're just like a crow—you're vermin."

Corvus flinched at the words and clenched at his finger even harder, looking down to avoid eye contact with his father. He blinked furiously, attempting to stop the flow of more tears from sliding down his face.

"Look at you," his father mocked, "With those beady little eyes. Quit with the crocodile tears, boy. You ain't foolin' anyone. You're nine, not two. Fucking act your age," he hissed.

"I was just trying to help—" Corvus began again, but was silenced when the back of his father's hand met with his cheek. Stinging pain spread out on his skin like ringlets from a water droplet, and the force about shoved him off of the chair he was seated in.

"You talk when you're asked to, boy," his father barked.

Corvus gritted his teeth and replied with only a nod, his cheeks flushed red. Whether the color came from the slap or from his embarrassment, he didn't know. Nor did he care. He just wanted to be sent up to his room where he could be alone.

"Next time I catch ya fuckin' with things ya aren't supposed to fuck with, I'll give you more than a slap," his father angrily spat. "Now git." With that, his father shoved him out of the room, leaving Corvus to clumsily—and quickly—make his way towards his room upstairs. It was his haven. It was the one thing that his parents hadn't tainted with their hatred.

"Praise the Lord, the little vermin has stopped cryin'." His mother sneered as he walked past her, not even bothering to remove her gaze from the blanket she was sewing. Corvus clenched his teeth and bounded up the stairs, running to his room. He quickly slipped through the door and shut it, his hands pulling the latch of a lock shut. He had made the lock on his own when he was eight—the door before him proved to be a barrier between him and his abusive father when he decided to drink. It was the only thing that prevented harm coming to Corvus when his father was in that state of mind, and he made sure to reinforce the lock every fortnight.

He pressed his forehead against the door, attempting to calm himself. The wood felt good against his skin, and he took the time to take in a couple of deep breaths to soothe his lungs. Once his breathing had slowed, he stood straight, and roughly wiped at his eyes. He flinched slightly as the cut upon spread slightly upon contact with his face, and he withdrew his left hand quickly. The cut wasn't too deep, though blood beaded from where the flesh was parted, sliding down his finger and dripping onto the floor.

He popped his index finger in his mouth, sucking at the wound. He ignored the coppery flavor of his blood, and the stinging his tongue brought to the cut each time it ran over the opening. After a few moments—and when the taste of copper began to weaken—he pulled the finger out of his mouth and wiped it on his trousers.

He slowly made his way to the window, his eyes peering out upon the small town of Darkshire. Corvus knew it was a pathetic town, and that the people who lived within it were incredibly poor. The air was always cold, and not a single ray of sunlight felt the need to touch down upon the cold cobblestone of the streets. A couple of candles flickered within the foggy windows of those who were still awake at this hour, but most of the houses held nothing but darkness within.

Despite the nine years he had been living here, this place felt nothing like home to him. It was dark and gloomy, and he was forced to remain within the perimeters of the house. He wasn't allowed to play with the other children, nor speak with any of the traveling vendors that stopped within Darkshire. His only source of fun was sneaking off into the woods at night to watch the giant spiders spin their webs and nurture their eggs. Of course, he was always reprimanded for such actions, and would be punished harshly by the hand of his father.

Corvus sighed softly, pressing a palm to the cool glass. How he wished he could escape from here, away from this little shack he was supposed to consider home. He peered up into the starry night. That was the only other thing besides the spiders he took appreciation too—though dense fog would coat the ground often within the night, there were some intervals where Corvus could take a peek at the stars. He relished on how they glistened within the dark sky. He figured that if those stars were able to shine their brightest when darkness surrounded them, he thought that he would be able to endure his family too.

His eyes slid up to the great moon within the sky, and he felt a pang within his heart.

But these stars have a loving mother, he thought sadly to himself.

They have the glistening moon, and I don't. He shut his eyes and felt another wave of tears begin to pool at his eyelashes.

If only….

….If only.