Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun.

Abuse

"Alright Vash, what is this all about," Meryl asked, yawning, "Some of us need sleep."

"A story. Wolfwood's story," Vash said, the initial excitement of having something to remember his best friend by was gone. His voice was as dull as when he told them the news of Wolfwood's death.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well Meryl," Millie said, her voice sounding extremely sad, "It seems that Mr. Wolfwood recorded his entire life's story onto some lost technology."

"Are you serious," Meryl asked, now fully awake.

"Yes. I thought you might like to hear about his life too," Vash said, pressing the play button. Wolfwood's voice carried through the room.

I lived my life in perpetual fear from a very young age. A fear of my guardian, and what he would do to me. The man who was supposed to keep me safe, who was supposed to protect me from harm. Daily beatings were expected. I remember going to the schoolhouse, and always having to make up excuses for my bruises. Thinking back, I wonder why none of my teachers ever got suspicious, maybe they didn't care.

It started out with just a slap here or there, when I did something really bad. When he lost his job, he started drinking, and then the beatings became more severe. The more he drank, the more he beat me. Sometimes, he would even break my bones.

I remember the first time he broke on of my bones, I was six years old, and it was my friend Roland's birthday. I came home from the party, having actually enjoyed myself for the first time since he started beating me. But I was late. As soon as I came in the door he punched me in the gut, "Where the hell were you, you little bastard," he yelled at me. I didn't answer, I just sat the, my back to the door, hunched over holding my gut. He kept yelling, and kept hitting. And then it happened, something in him snapped. He picked me up by the neck, looked at me with those hateful eyes, and threw me against the wall. The pain in my arm was excruciating, it felt like it was on fire. I even remember the excuse I used when my friends asked me why I was in a cast the next day. I told them my guardian was teaching me how to ride a tomas, and I had fallen off, they all believed it.

Nothing I did was good enough to save me from the pain. There were times he would make me do something wrong, just so he could beat me, like when I was doing he dishes, he would come behind me and shout in my ear, causing me to drop whatever I was cleaning, and it broke. He would then beat me for breaking it. It seemed like he blamed me for everything that had ever gone wrong in his life.

My greatest fear came the first day he pulled his gun on me. I thought he was going to shoot me, luckily he never got angry enough to do that. But the fear I felt was indescribable, thinking that my life would end. It was that day that he started to beat me with the butt of the gun. I thought the pain would never end.

The only reason I never told anyone is because he threatened to kill me if I did.

One day, when I was seven, I decided to take things into my own hands, I would no longer live in fear of my guardian's gun. So one night, while he slept, I snuck into his room and took the gun. The next morning, instead of going to school, I ran all the way to the other side of town as fast as my little legs could take me. I was going to bury the gun in the alley between the saloon and hotel. Just as I finished digging the hole, my guardian came up behind me, "Nick, what are you doing here, shouldn't you be in school," he asked, trying to sound like he really cared, since he was in public.

With a heavy fear in my heart, I turned to face him, his gun in my right hand. I should have known better than to bury it behind the saloon. He stopped acting liked he cared the second he saw the gun, "You little shit! What the fuck do you think you're doing with my gun," he shouted. I didn't respond, I just put the gun up and pointed it at him, "What? You're gonna shoot me," he said with a laugh, "You're too cowardly to ever do something like that,". Those were the last words my guardian spoke, as he stepped forward with his fist raised, I pulled the trigger.

I remember a laugh escaping my lips, a great burden had been lifted from me. Seeing him stop dead in his tracks like that, and fall backwards. I felt like I had defeated the devil himself. Fearing what might happen to me next, I finished what I started and buried the gun, then I ran home as fast as I could.

A few hours later, the sheriff came to my house. I acted surprised when I heard that my guardian was dead, and I was taken to the mayor's office. I wasn't exactly sure why, until I arrived.

It was at the mayor's office that day that I met him, the man with red eyes that called himself Chapel. He told me that I had the potential to be a great gunman. He said that if I came with him, he would teach me. The prospect of leaving my past behind, to go train somewhere to be a gunman excited me. I eagerly accepted his offer, and with the hope for a brighter future, I prepared to leave with him the next day.

That evening, Chapel introduced me to something that has influenced my life almost as much as guns. He introduced me to the Bible, and his interpretation of it's teachings. I was told that mankind was full of more people just like my guardian. He said that these people needed to be punished,

After that, he took me to the store, and replaced all of my tattered clothes. With everything we needed for me that night, the bill ran up hundreds of double-dollars. He happily bought these things for me, he showed me a deeper care than my guardian ever had. The next day, we took off on a long journey, to the place where I would train for the next ten years of my life. Little did I know, that things were about to go from bad to worse.