Why do you curse Mercy?
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the opera or anything that goes with it. :(
Hey Guys! First fic so reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks! -QK
Chapter 1-Harsh Beginnings
A pair of cold pleading eyes stared at its mother. The terrified woman backed away from the young boy. "Please…she pleaded while holding her hand over her eyes. "Don't hurt me! Please don't send the devil after me! Have mercy!" "Mama, I don't want to hurt you! Please just tell me you love me….please…that's all I ever wanted." The young boy started toward his mother slowly. "STOP!" The woman screamed. She backed away until she reached the door.
"My husband is coming home soon, and he will give you another beating if you take ONE MORE STEP!" As fast as she could she could she pushed open the door of their small shack and sprinted down the street. Defeated, the young boy collapsed onto the floor, crumbling into a heap, sobbing hysterically. "Why does she hate me?" he sobbed. "Am I really a demon?" I have never done anything wrong!" Still crying, the boy slowly got up.
I can't stay here, he thought to himself. Poppa will come home and will no doubt beat me to death for frightening mama again. He grabbed his sock puppet monkey, something he had made for himself out of scraps of fabric, and ran out onto the streets. It was snowing outside, and he was certainly not dressed for the weather, for he was skin and bones, and the few rags he had on almost shed no warmth whatsoever. As he made fresh footprints in the fresh fallen snow, he thought more about why his parents hated him so much. Since he was born, he had been neglected love from everyone. But why? He did not understand. For the past 6 years of his life he had been given the names "demon" or "monster".
His mom was terrified of him, and if he stepped in 10 feet in range of her, she would scream for Poppa, who would come with his stick and beat him, while yelling "You will not harm her! Go back to hell where you belong!" He was about three years old when he received his first mask, a torn sack with eye holes cut in it. That was what he had to wear over his head his entire life.
But why? He had no idea. He had never seen his own reflection before, for there was no mirrors in their small home. His father always told him that he should be grateful, that they were taking care of a demon. But today, father was not there, so why not take his chances with trying to embrace his mother. But now he regretted even thinking the idea, for now he was homeless, freezing, with an empty stomach.
The boy kept on walking and walking, for what seemed like hours and hours, until he reached the woods. He spotted a huge tree with dry ground underneath it, and scurried under it. Wrapping his arms around his body, he started to shiver, and soon his teeth started to chatter nosily. Wet hot tears slid down his dirty face, and soon he started to sob once again. He buried his face into his mangled toy, but was very careful, for he didn't want to break the only friend he had ever had.
"GET UP YOU DEMON! GET UP!" the boy awakened to loud yelling, and then he felt a strong blow to his head. Papa was looming over him, his strong fingers pinching his ear. "GET UP NOW! BOY, I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DO NOT GET UP!" As quick as the scared boy could, he scrambled to his feet. "YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE DEVIL!" Papa screamed.
He dragged the boy by his ear out of the woods. "HOW DARE YOU SCARE YOUR MOTHER AGAIN!" AND THEN HAVE THE NERVE TO RUN AWAY!" He than added quietly, "I would have left you here, if it wasn't for the traveling circus". The boy became confused. Traveling circus? He thought.What do I have anything to do with the traveling circus?
They kept on walking, as just as the boy felt his ear was about to fall off from all the pulling, his father stopped. The boy looked around, and saw a huge tent, with the words "Gypsies Carnival" scrawled across it. The boy became more confused yet. What are we doing here? He thought. How does this have anything to do with me? Suddenly his father threw him to the ground. "Don't you dare move" he growled. The boy's father walked up to the giant tent and shouted out "Gypsies! Is anyone there? I have an agreement to make!" A moment later a filthy man, with strange clothes and a scraggly, dirty beard emerged from the tent.
He stepped toward father, and they talked for several minutes, looking at the boy the whole time. What's going on? The boy thought, still on the ground, not daring to move. The two began walking toward the boy, and he became very nervous. The boy's father raised his hand over the boys head, and the boy closed his eyes, bracing himself for his Papa to hit him, but instead his father snatched the sack off his head, revealing his face. The gypsy gasped in horror, and then smiled a devilish grin.
"You're right" the gypsy muttered in a strange accent. "He is hideous. I will take him". What? The boy stared in shock as his father shook hands with the strange gypsy. Surely his father wasn't selling him to this…this…disgusting man! They gypsy fished around in his pocket and handed 5 or 6 silver coins to the boy's father, then smiled a hideous, toothless smile at the boy.
"Don't worry my good man" he said. "I will treat him...how he deserves to be treated!" The gypsy then threw back his head and howled with revolting laughter. While the gypsy was laughing, the boy searched his fathers face for any sympathy, but all he found was a cold, hard stare. Knowing all was lost, the boy reached for his sack to put back on his head, but the gypsy grabbed his arm. What you doing, monster? He leered. "How can we make money if you have this sack over your head? He laughed, and threw the sack to the boy's father.
The gypsy then twisted the boy's arm back, and then threw him back to the ground. For a second, the boy thought his father was going to jump up, hit the gypsy in the face, and then yell, "What are you doing to my son? Let me have him, the deal is off!" But it did not happen. Instead his father merely watched, no sympathy in his eyes whatsoever, and didn't even look at his helpless son, withering on the ground like a worm. His father suddenly spoke. "I must be going to see my wife, she is still frightened…." He then looked at his son for the first time, but with hate in his eyes. "But I trust you will treat him well. Good day monsieur." The boy's father started walking away, not even bothering to look back. "Do not worry good monsieur" the gypsy said more to the boy than to the boy's father. "I will treat him very, very well."
1 year later
"Boy! Get up you wretched monster! GET UP! A burning sensation started spreading like fire throughout the boys back, and the boy slowly opened his bright blue eyes. Above him towered his filthy master, threatening him with his whip. "Get up quickly or I will tell the devil to pick up his son!" Once more the whip came down on the boys bare skin, but it did not hurt as much anymore, because he was so used to it. The boy quickly scrambled up, grabbing his bag and pulling it over his head. He quickly stepped out the open door of the cage, his eyes on the floor. His master glared down at him with his drunken eyes, the boy could almost fell the hate shooting sparks at him. "Were brinin' in mo people today….any mistakes and you're finished." He then threw back his head and laughed, and the boy could see the black stains deep the mans yellow teeth. "Now get back into you're cage you filthy demon!" he yelled, giving him a hard kick right in the stomach. The boy fell hard to the ground, clutching his chest. The filthy man started laughing again, and taking another swig of his beer, stomped out of the tent. The small boy sat up, rubbing his throbbing stomach. He wanted to cry, but his eyes had no tears left, for he had cried almost every day for the last year, ever since his father had sold him away to this hellhole. A small noise startled him, and the boy looked up. A small dressed up monkey looked back at him. "Oh." The boy smiled" "its only you". The monkey then screeched happily and slid through the bars of the cage, dropping a small piece of stale bread before he slid out again. The boy grinned and picked up the piece of dry crust. "Thank you" he whispered quietly while his small friend scurried out of the tent. As the boy hungrily brought the scrap of food to his dry lips, he thought about the monkey, the only friend he had ever had except for his toy, of course. His masters rarely fed him, and whenever the boy felt as if he was at the brink of starvation, his friend would show up, baring a small scrap of food. The boy smiled and looked at his sock puppet. He had decided long ago that his sock puppet was a symbol of his monkey friend, and the boy loved that sock puppet even more. As the boy nibbled on his bread crust, he thought about how his past year had been. Ever since his father had abandoned him to this horrible traveling circus, he had never felt so alone. Every day he was beaten, starved, and humiliated in front of crowds of people, who laughed and jeered at him, for what reasons he did not know. It has to be my face, the boy thought to himself. Why else would they hate me so? Slowly the boy brought his hand to one side of his face. It felt smooth, and except for a gashes from blows, normal.