Title: Pieces of You
Author: Beach Blonde Babe
Summary: Xander needs help, Angel provides
Warnings: Language, child abuse
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I don't get anything from 'em. I'm just borrowing 'em.
A/N: As always, feedback, please. I'm still looking for a beta reader, so if you're interested, let me know.
Ch 4
One of Xander's earliest memories was of spilling milk. He had been sitting at the table, eating cookies. Oreos, if he remembered correctly. His glass had a cow on it. A smiling cow. Xander's glass. His glass. His Uncle Rory won it for him at the Orange County Fair.
He was wearing the pajamas Auntie Frieda gave him for Christmas. They were blue, with Scooby-Doo on them. Xander hated them. They were too big for him, and they made him hot, and kinda itchy.
His father sat to his left, reading the newspaper. Beer cans littered the table in front of him.
Xander finished his last Oreo, relishing the last lick of the creme filling. He got up from the table and picked up the glass, with the intention of putting it in the sink. Xander tripped. He stepped on leg of his too big Scooby Doo pajamas, and went sprawling to the floor. His glass, one of his prized possessions, went flying from his grasp, and shattered on the linoleum. Xander lay there, face down on the floor, heartbroken. He broke it. His glass. Xander began to cry.
Tony Harris saw his boy fall from the corner of his eye. Goddamn clumsy brat. Always breaking things. "Jess!" Where was she? "Jessica! Where the hell are you? Your goddamn son broke a goddamn glass! Come clean this shit up!" He waited for her to come, but she never did. Bitch probably fell asleep in the tub again. He sighed, and shook his head. He'd have to do it himself. He turned to see his kid crying. Oh hell no. Anthony Harris's son didn't cry like a sissy about milk. He knew then that it was time to take matters into his own hands. He would teach his kid a lesson. He leaned down and picked up his kid by the arm. "What the fuck're you cryin' for, Alexander?" The brat only started sobbing harder.
"I . . . Sorry, Daddy, won't do . . . I . . . sorry." The rest of Xander's words were swallowed in sobs. Tony shook his kid, hard.
"Now you listen to me, you little shit." Alexander wasn't responding to him, so he shook him again. "You listen to me. Only pansies cry. You a pansy?" Alexander shook his head, but the hiccupping sobs kept coming.
"No, Daddy." Sob "I." Sob. "I." Sob. The boy broke down into gasping cries, and Tony dragged him up to his room. He threw the boy in, turned around, adn pulled the door shut after him. He unbuckled his belt, taking it off and folding it in half.
"Kid, this'll hurt me a lot more'n it'll hurt you." he sneered, looking down at the sniveling, wailing ball in front of him.
Xander wrapped his arms around his head, and felt the leather bite into his side. He cried out, calling for Mommy, begging Daddy to stop. Daddy eventually did stop, and left Xander on the floor for Mommy to find the next morning.
Xander was seven.
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A/N: Well, that's it for now. Same thing applies. I get more constructive feedback, you guys get another chapter. Next up, Xander and Jesse . . .
Author: Beach Blonde Babe
Summary: Xander needs help, Angel provides
Warnings: Language, child abuse
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I don't get anything from 'em. I'm just borrowing 'em.
A/N: As always, feedback, please. I'm still looking for a beta reader, so if you're interested, let me know.
Ch 4
One of Xander's earliest memories was of spilling milk. He had been sitting at the table, eating cookies. Oreos, if he remembered correctly. His glass had a cow on it. A smiling cow. Xander's glass. His glass. His Uncle Rory won it for him at the Orange County Fair.
He was wearing the pajamas Auntie Frieda gave him for Christmas. They were blue, with Scooby-Doo on them. Xander hated them. They were too big for him, and they made him hot, and kinda itchy.
His father sat to his left, reading the newspaper. Beer cans littered the table in front of him.
Xander finished his last Oreo, relishing the last lick of the creme filling. He got up from the table and picked up the glass, with the intention of putting it in the sink. Xander tripped. He stepped on leg of his too big Scooby Doo pajamas, and went sprawling to the floor. His glass, one of his prized possessions, went flying from his grasp, and shattered on the linoleum. Xander lay there, face down on the floor, heartbroken. He broke it. His glass. Xander began to cry.
Tony Harris saw his boy fall from the corner of his eye. Goddamn clumsy brat. Always breaking things. "Jess!" Where was she? "Jessica! Where the hell are you? Your goddamn son broke a goddamn glass! Come clean this shit up!" He waited for her to come, but she never did. Bitch probably fell asleep in the tub again. He sighed, and shook his head. He'd have to do it himself. He turned to see his kid crying. Oh hell no. Anthony Harris's son didn't cry like a sissy about milk. He knew then that it was time to take matters into his own hands. He would teach his kid a lesson. He leaned down and picked up his kid by the arm. "What the fuck're you cryin' for, Alexander?" The brat only started sobbing harder.
"I . . . Sorry, Daddy, won't do . . . I . . . sorry." The rest of Xander's words were swallowed in sobs. Tony shook his kid, hard.
"Now you listen to me, you little shit." Alexander wasn't responding to him, so he shook him again. "You listen to me. Only pansies cry. You a pansy?" Alexander shook his head, but the hiccupping sobs kept coming.
"No, Daddy." Sob "I." Sob. "I." Sob. The boy broke down into gasping cries, and Tony dragged him up to his room. He threw the boy in, turned around, adn pulled the door shut after him. He unbuckled his belt, taking it off and folding it in half.
"Kid, this'll hurt me a lot more'n it'll hurt you." he sneered, looking down at the sniveling, wailing ball in front of him.
Xander wrapped his arms around his head, and felt the leather bite into his side. He cried out, calling for Mommy, begging Daddy to stop. Daddy eventually did stop, and left Xander on the floor for Mommy to find the next morning.
Xander was seven.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A/N: Well, that's it for now. Same thing applies. I get more constructive feedback, you guys get another chapter. Next up, Xander and Jesse . . .