Please don't kill me... I am soooooo sorry about this. Baby Clint has gone through this whole 'need's Mamma' phase and I can barely get a second to breath. Never mind my internet keeps crashing, so I've done this dang note at least five times by now. Ugh. This time, I swear I'm gonna just copy before saving the document. Anyways, here is chapter 12!
Age: 7
Clint huddled deeper down into the chair in an effort to get comfortable. The other kids had left him alone since his seventh birthday and so he had taken to hanging out in the library area. Most of the books were for really little kids but considering he could barely read, nearly all of them were at his reading level. He actually enjoyed reading the stories over and over, even if he didn't understand some of the words. Even the harder books were enjoyable. More times than not, Clint made up definitions for each word he didn't know. It was almost like 'fill in the blank.' And that was one of the best games ever. Clint always enjoyed making his own story. If it was a picture book, he tried to keep it like what he could see but the older books. His imagination would go all over.
"Hello," an old craggily voice greeted, surprising Clint out of his most recent book and fanatic idea. The cardboard item fell to the ground with a clap, making the young boy shudder at the noise. Clint focused on the person as they entered the room and closed the door. As mentioned, he didn't tend to get bothered by other kids so no one would have greeted him. So it was even more shocking to see who it actually was. It was Old Man Winters. Clint had watched the old man closely in his first year at the orphanage. At this time during the day, the old man normally was in his study or bedroom so Clint hadn't planned on seeing him. But he still wanted to be polite so he nodded a hello.
"Hello, sir," Clint calmly replied. Technically, the young boy knew that the old man wasn't into pleasantries and so he wouldn't have cared if Clint had completely ignored him. But Clint learned early that polite was better than nothing. Old Man Winters moved deeper into the room without a word back. Not that Clint was expecting one. Years of abuse from his father made Clint look the old man over. He looked tense for some reason. Almost like a spring waiting for release. Clint wondered if he was the cause of this. He normally tried to avoid Old Man Winters as much as possible so as to not cause trouble but this time, it was like Old Man Winters went searching for him. "Am I bothering you?"
"No, you keep reading," Old Man Winters told Clint as he reached for the book that Clint had dropped. Nodding, Clint hopped of the chair to go grab a new book. He had mostly finished reading the other one anyways and figured Old Man Winters might want to look at it now. While he searched, Clint noticed that the old man sat down in his seat. The old man's eyes closed in a look of pleasure as he stretched back in the well worn seat. Feeling a little weirded out, Clint grabbed a book far too old for his age and turned to leave the library. He didn't get far. Just about made it down the aisle and turned towards the door when Winters perked up. "Hey, where you going?"
"I was going to my room" Clint admitted beginning to feel like this was not a good situation for him. Old Man Winters shifted in the seat to create some room for Clint's rather small frame. He patted the area, silently demanding that Clint sit in it. Gulping, Clint slowly slunk over, wishing he could escape. But he feared what Old Man Winters would do if the young boy ignored him.
"No need for that. Here, come read that story to me," Old Man Winters said. Nodding, but not comfortable, Clint slowly climbed onto the old man's lap. Before he could even snuggle into the seat, Winters placed a hand on Clint's upper thigh. The boy tensed, never having been touched there before by another. Right away, Clint regretted his choice of wearing shorts for the day. Old Man Winters looked down onto the now frightened boy and smiled softly, thinking that would calm him. If anything, that made Clint more wary of the man. "Go on, read to me."
To this day, Clint can't remember what he read to Winters. He can't even remember if Winters tried to teach him how to read certain words. All Clint could focus on was Old Man Winters' hand beginning to move closer to the middle of his legs and rubbing. The worst part was feeling a bulge on Winters growing more and more as time passed. It throbbed and pulsed with each movement that Old Man Winters made. Clint was close to the end of the first chapter of the book when Old Man Winters shifted his hand to try and slip down into Clint's shorts. The boy skyrocketed out of the seat.
"What are you doing?" Winters cried, shifting to grip his throbbing member. Clint cringed at the sight. "I was enjoying this."
"No... I... I didn't," Clint whimpered, unsure what to do. He had never been in this position before. Old Man Winters forcefully patted beside him again, his eyes narrowing on Clint's shaking form. Clint shook his head so slightly that the old man didn't even notice.
"Come, sit with me. It's okay. I won't hurt you," Winters claimed, knowing that many of the kids who were orphaned in his home had past histories of abuse. That was what made this whole thing easier in his mind. The kids wanted someone they could trust, someone who loved them. Clint frowned, unsure if he could actually trust the old man. He couldn't trust his father. And lately his brother was becoming rather distant when he had previously claimed he'd protect him. Hell, even his mother wasn't very good at protecting him. Old Man Winters patted the seat once more. This time Clint shook his head no so that Winters could see. He was too uncomfortable with the situation. Winters frowned. No kid had yet to refuse his demands.
"Actually, I think I want to go outside," Clint explained, wanting to get away from the old man. He began to back up toward the door. In a stunningly fast move, Winters lunged out of the chair and caught Clint's right arm in a firm grip. Yanking on it, Winters pulled the boy off his feet. As Clint crashed toward the ground, his shoulder twisted and popped, something that had happened to Clint before. Having learned from his father to not cry out, Clint simply whimpered at the intense pain that radiated from his now dislocated shoulder.
"No, you will stay here with me," Winters snapped, looking almost as threatening as Clint's father used to look on a drunken rampage. Clint pulled at his injured shoulder with all his weight to try and free the limb. Knowing his strength may fail at any second, Old Man Winters brought his other hand down onto Clint's exposed face. Stunned, Clint stopped fighting as he stared at the old man. Feeling that Clint had given up, Winters released his arm for a moment to shift his grip before dropping to his knees and pinning Clint to the ground by his arms. Frightened, Clint began kicking and screaming in an effort to get away.
"No! No! Stop!" the boy shouted but Old Man Winters ignored it, knowing that no one would come to help Clint. Working hard to keep the boy pinned, Winters slowly began working on undoing his pants. Horrified, Clint screamed as loud as he could before aiming a perfect kick into the bulging member now pointing toward him. Winters howled in pain and let go of Clint's arms for enough time to let the boy scramble backwards. Spinning around and getting to his feet, Clint rushed to the door. Grabbing the handle, he was shocked to find it locked. He didn't even know this door could be locked.
"Get back here," Winters roared as he got to his feet. Clint squeaked before rushing off to find another exit. Winters stalked after the boy, knowing there was no other exit from the room. The windows were blocked with metal bars and the only visible door was locked. Winters had blocked the second door with a bookshelf a long time ago, so no one but him knew of its existence. But Clint wasn't a normal kid. He knew how to look for good hiding places. And most of those were up high. So as he looked up, he noticed a small vent unit at the top of one of the shelves. Desperate, Clint began climbing the unit one handed. "Get down!"
"No!" Clint cried, kicking out when Old Man Winters grabbed his ankle in an attempt to pull him down. Clint barely was able to cling to the thin wood. Old Man Winters grunted as the foot him in the face but he dealt with worse. When the foot struck a second time, Winters was forced to let go and Clint quickly slithered out of his reach. Old Man Winters snarled as he stared up at the frightened boy staring down at him. Winters tried to reach up toward Clint, which just made the boy turn and begin working on freeing the vent cover from its position.
"You can't hide from me forever, boy," Winters snarled as Clint got the cover off. Huffing, the old man stormed away. Clint stopped as he listened to the old man. It wasn't long before he heard the door unlock and then open. Clint frowned. Did he really trust that Old Man Winters had actually left? Glancing around, he realized that he could follow the top of the shelves almost directly to the door. Feeling better about being high up and out of reach, Clint slunk across the units to the door. The entire time he looked for signs that Winters was still in the library. Thankfully, there was no sign that the old man stayed but Clint was still hesitant. So he settled himself down on the units and waited, his arm still throbbing lightly in pain.
"I had some practice in replacing my shoulder, so I did just that. Nearly knocked down the shelf I was on. But it was in place and the pain for once actually had me passing out moments later. I woke up maybe two to three hours later to find the girl in the bunk next to mine, had an encounter with Winters. She had some large bruises on her arms and legs. Signs that I began to see on other kids as well. That was actually what really started my love of heights. I used them in the past, but it wasn't until Winters that I began to really enjoy being high up above it all. Old Man Winters couldn't climb and the other kids were too afraid to try. The higher I got, the safer I was and the more I could see," Clint described. Bruce smiled at Clint as the archer seemingly turned this horrible life event into something so much nicer. Steve frowned, not knowing how much of a hard life the archer had had before. He couldn't understand how Clint was the way he was after everything. Thor wished he could travel back in time and change what happened to Clint. There was no way he needed to suffer this much.
"So, basically you became a sniper because of him?" Tony theorized after a moment. Natasha began pacing the room, wishing she could change things that had already happened. Clint smirked, wishing things could be put so simply.
"You could say that," he replied, not really wanting to give Winters that much responsibility into his life choices. Steve stiffened, having not thought about it that way. Thor felt ashamed that he had not realized that some things had to happen to people in order to get them to their final goal in life. Clint, having not noticed his friend's reactions, shook his head. Being high up wasn't the only reason why he liked archery. Most of that belonged to Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders.
"Did Winters ever... Um... Well... Catch you?" Steve murmured, wanting there to be a better way of saying it. Clint glanced over at the super solider who looked extremely embarrassed. Bruce looked a little sheepish, which meant that he was slightly curious as well. Thor had turned his head away, a look that Clint took as in the demigod was upset. Clint shook his head but only Natasha and Tony were focused on him.
"He beat me a couple of times but never fully went and raped me like some of the other kids. Mostly he used me to get rid of his rage and if he couldn't find me, than another blond boy would suffer in my place..."
Clint could hear the sobs from down the hall. It was normal to hear someone crying here at the orphanage but for some reason, this struck him as abnormal. Following the sounds deeper into the orphanage, Clint began to realize why this sound was abnormal. At the end of the hall was Old Man Winters private rooms. He always had these rooms locked and the doors closed. But today the last room, one Clint happened to know as Winters' study, was open. Even being a few doors down, Clint could tell the cries were emanating from that room. Slowly, Clint inched closer to it. Before he rounded the doorframe, Clint briefly wondered if this was a trap for him or some other kids. Old Man Winters could have recorded a crying voice and used it to entice kids into his study, right? A board creaked as Clint shifted his weight in confusion and the crying halted for a moment.
"Hello?" a timid voice called out. It was a voice that Clint knew well. While Clint couldn't remember the boy's name, he knew that the boy was one of three other blond boys staying in the younger kids room. The same room that Clint was going to be moving out of in a few short weeks. "Is someone there?"
"Yeah," Clint softly answered as he rounded the doorway and headed into the room. The boy was hiding by a large desk in the back of the room. Shadows covered most of his body but the light from the bay window behind the desk showed evidence of what happened. The floor in front of the boy and desk was splattered with blood. But even though Clint knew the boy was injured, he didn't know the how or why. "What happened?"
"Not allowed," the boy whimpered, not that it really mattered. Once hearing that, Clint put two and two together. Only Old Man Winters had a key into this room. Winters was the only adult in the whole building for the day. Frowning, Clint wondered if it was a smart idea to get involved with this boy if Old Man Winters did this to him. Staying put, Clint glanced around for a sign of what to do. Talking had helped him in the past when his father got a hold of him. Even if he wasn't allowed to talk about the incident.
"Why?" Clint asked, not really thinking that the boy would answer. But maybe the boy would begin a conversation in an effort to forget about the pain. A talent that Barney and he had perfected over the years. Not that either had to really use that skill in a while.
"He said... He couldn't find 'the Barton boy,'" the boy mumbled, not realizing who he was speaking too. Clint tensed. Technically, Old Man Winters could also mean Barney, but Clint knew that wasn't true. For the past few weeks, Winters had been catching him and beating him every couple of days. Clint was still bruised from his latest beating a few days prior. The boy sobbed into his arms. "He said... I reminded him of the... Other boy."
"Oh," Clint replied, unsure what to say about this boy taking his beating. Slowly, Clint inched forward. The light from outside shone on his pale skin, making the boy tense. "Can I help?"
"No... I'll be fine," the boy sobbed, trying to hold it all in. Clint grimaced, knowing what that was like. He had also cried after his first beating but his wasn't with Winters. Clint's first beating was from his father. It was after the second beating, moments after crying from the first, that Clint learned not to cry during or after. Course Clint took it to the extreme and stopped crying completely. But as he looked down at the boy before him, Clint wondered if this boy had been beaten before. The boy looked up when nothing happened to him. His eyes widened in recognition. "Aren't you one of the Bartons?"
"Yeah," Clint freely admitted, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide it forever. The boy cringed away from him. Clint winced. "I'm sorry."
"Forget it," the boy whispered so softly that Clint almost missed it. Clint stepped forward, wanting to help. The boy held his hands up. "Just... Leave me alone."
"Kay..." So Clint left. He saw the boy the next day, the bruises looked a little better but judging by the glare Clint getting, the boy blamed him for the whole situation. Clint just ducked his head down and continued avoiding Old Man Winters. Each time he saw another blond boy with deep dark bruises, he tried to remind himself that it wasn't his fault.
"It really wasn't," Steve interrupted. Clint scoffed, feeling so much more guilty than he had in years. He had allowed so many kids get hurt in his name that it wasn't funny. Couldn't Steve see that he was too big of a coward? Steve stood from the couch and walked over to Clint's bed. Placing a hand down on Clint's uninjured arm, Steve drew the archer's attention. Steve could see the guilt in Clint's eyes and it nearly killed him knowing there was nothing he could really do to help. "Winters was the one who beat those boys. Not you. You hiding was the best thing you could have done. There was nothing else you could have done in that situation."
"I could have taught the other boys to hide. I could have stayed and taken the beating," Clint began listing but Steve shook his head.
"No one should have been beaten by that man. He was a coward. And he was a fool, thinking that by beating on kids, it would lessen his anger. You did nothing wrong," Steve claimed. Clint shook his head before looking at Steve.
"You wouldn't have hid," he stated. Steve tensed knowing that to be true. In his lifetime, Steve had taken many beatings that weren't meant for him. And even some that were. So how could he sit here now and tell Clint that it was fine to not do that? To run and hide? Looking away, Steve sighed. He only seemed to make matters worse.
"Not everyone can be like Captain America, Clint," Tony said from his corner. He looked a little timid, a first time for everyone to see. Clint gave him a curious look before remembering Tony's file. S.H.I.E.L.D had slight evidence that Howard Stark tended to abuse Tony and many times compared the young genius to Steve while in the presence of agents and other people. Feeling self-conscious, Clint looked away.
"But I should have been."
Hopefully the next update won't take so long to happen. It should be up next week, if not sooner. Anyways, keep Reviewing, Favorite-ing and Following.