Abused
By: JediPrincess
A/N: Sorry another angsty one! I guess I'm in this type of mood.
Lying motionless in the corner of the cramped closet a Jolteon whimpered. Her master was coming home soon. There was barely enough space to stand between the junk that cluttered the enclosed space. She stood wearily, and began to contemplate her life.
She had never tried to run away- it was no use. The closet was locked tightly, and never opened except for the routine morning feeding. Some Pikachips and an itsy bitsy bowl of water were certainly not enough for a growing young Jolteon.
The Jolteon's heart ached as she realized she didn't have a name. Her owner did not call her by anything in particular, except when he was mad. Then the flow of names would start: Idiotic Electric Dummy, Poor Excuse for a Pokemon, and The Mistake were some of the names the poor thing suffered through. All she tried to do was please her master by fighting well. But malnourished and covered with scratches and bruises, she usually failed in winning a battle.
And the beatings. She moved slightly, and winced when one of the many slashes across her tiny body opened up. Nightly beatings were a necessity in this household. And as a plus there were the "I lost the battle" beatings as well. A kick to the ribs, punched to the mouth, slap over the head. The Jolteon's body ached horribly.
A single tear ran down her defeated face, as she thought. What could I have possibly done wrong? Oh, it hurts. But I am to blame. It is my fault for being a bad Pokemon. For not serving Master as I should. I must be the naughtiest Pokemon in the world.
Her thoughts were cut shot when footsteps resounded on the floor. She scrambled deeper into the closet, ashamed at herself. I should not hide from my Master. He is the one I fear and serve above all. A piercing white light filled the closet. The nightly routine had started.
By: JediPrincess
A/N: Sorry another angsty one! I guess I'm in this type of mood.
Lying motionless in the corner of the cramped closet a Jolteon whimpered. Her master was coming home soon. There was barely enough space to stand between the junk that cluttered the enclosed space. She stood wearily, and began to contemplate her life.
She had never tried to run away- it was no use. The closet was locked tightly, and never opened except for the routine morning feeding. Some Pikachips and an itsy bitsy bowl of water were certainly not enough for a growing young Jolteon.
The Jolteon's heart ached as she realized she didn't have a name. Her owner did not call her by anything in particular, except when he was mad. Then the flow of names would start: Idiotic Electric Dummy, Poor Excuse for a Pokemon, and The Mistake were some of the names the poor thing suffered through. All she tried to do was please her master by fighting well. But malnourished and covered with scratches and bruises, she usually failed in winning a battle.
And the beatings. She moved slightly, and winced when one of the many slashes across her tiny body opened up. Nightly beatings were a necessity in this household. And as a plus there were the "I lost the battle" beatings as well. A kick to the ribs, punched to the mouth, slap over the head. The Jolteon's body ached horribly.
A single tear ran down her defeated face, as she thought. What could I have possibly done wrong? Oh, it hurts. But I am to blame. It is my fault for being a bad Pokemon. For not serving Master as I should. I must be the naughtiest Pokemon in the world.
Her thoughts were cut shot when footsteps resounded on the floor. She scrambled deeper into the closet, ashamed at herself. I should not hide from my Master. He is the one I fear and serve above all. A piercing white light filled the closet. The nightly routine had started.