A/N: I think I'll stop typing out chapters like a lunatic after this one, to see how much of a reaction I can get. Reviews are loved, so please, don't hesitate to use that button way down there... x_x;
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*Ryan: Part Two*
Staring up at his mother, the now four-year-old Ryan chortled happily. The surrounding flock of his mother's friends all cooed and giggled and fawned over the grey-eyed boy, who seemed more interested in the smoking thing hanging out of his mother's mouth than anything else. Ryan had grown to be a healthy, good-natured child, despite the fact that his mother and all the people she hung around with were either prostitutes, gamblers, alcoholics, or a dangerous mix of the three. All that aside, Ryan was well-kept and strong, and much to his mother's dismay, looking more like his father every day. She could see the familiar creases in his face, the same shape of the eyes, the same kind of disturbing smile. Putting it out of her mind as paranoia, though, Myra did her best to support Ryan by continuing to whore herself.
Sharing an apartment with five other women wasn't too uncommon for someone of her status, and the utter convenience of having five women to choose from to care for her child when she was 'preoccupied' was bliss for the now thirty-four year old woman. She didn't look her age, much to her own surprise, and was rumored as a tiger under the sheets (assuming anyone ever used the sheets when she was involved). She spent most of her time, however, absent from Ryan's presence, assuming that her housemates would take care of him. Usually, they did, but there were numerous occasions that young Ryan was left to fully fend for himself, even for several days at a time.
On one particular evening, Ryan's mother, and four of her housemates, went out for the night to a bar, leaving Ryan with Sophie, the youngest, bitchiest, and most easily influenced girl in the house. Ryan sat silently upon the floor, drawing upon a piece of paper with a quill and being a general angel. Sophie, far from being a fan of children, was doing her best to ignore him as she waited for a customer to arrive. This customer's name was Jarod Baker, and he was one of the best-known, most infamous alcoholics in the entire city. Sophie, however, catered to his drunken tantrums and his outbursts of violence for the generous pay he administered whenever he decided to roll out of bed and go home to his unfortunate and unsuspecting wife.
This particular evening, however, Jarod was particularly stocked up on vodka and whiskey, stumbling through the doorway with a lit cigar in his hand and his clothes already halfway off. Eager to get down to business, Jarod grabbed Sophie's dress, and with one hand, tore it right off of her, shoved her over to the sofa that served as three different girls' bed, and clambered atop her, cigar still in hand. In the process, though, he knocked over Ryan's inkwell, ruining his artwork and sending the child into a fit of screaming.
Ceasing his slobbering over Sophie to stare through glazed eyes as the wailing boy on the floor, Jarod growled as if to silence the child. Ryan closed his eyes tightly and clutched his beloved quill pen, a present from Myra for his latest birthday, not knowing what to do. As the panting pair sat up, Jarod's anger swelled as Ryan continued to cry over his picture that he'd been working so hard on. Knowing somewhere in his mind that he'd regret it when the alcohol wore off, Jarob snatched the quill from Ryan's tiny fingers, aggravated to find that the screams only grew louder. Eager to please, Sophie lightly patted Jarod's shoulder.
"Gimme your cigar. I got an idea."
Too curious for his own good, Jarod passed the thick cigar to Sophie, who leaned over Ryan and grinned sweetly, getting Ryan's screams to taper off to hiccups. Staring Ryan right in the face, she slowly inched her hand forward, still grinning, and finally, pressed the burning end of the cigar right against Ryan's bare stomach. An ear-piercing scream and a roar of laughter followed, Ryan's hands flying to cover the burn that was swiftly turning purple and tears streaming down his red and blotched face. Jarod laughed uproariously, retrieving his still-lit cigar and taking his turn in burning the innocent boy, right below his ribcage. Ryan sobbed, and pleaded with them, using all of the words he knew to try and get them to stop.
After burning him twice more (each), they resumed their 'business', leaving little Ryan silently sobbing on the floor, and the cigar in a nearby ashtray. Soon enough, Ryan fell asleep, and the other two (after a good romp or three) soon followed suit.
When Myra returned the next morning, though, the first thing she saw were the angry-looking, swollen, and blistering burns upon her beloved son's stomach. Sophie, when rudely awakened, insisted that while she and her latest customer were conducting business, Ryan must have gotten his 'grubby little paws' on the cigar and burnt himself.
For some reason, Myra was more willing to believe her best friend than her innocent child, and promptly took Ryan by the hand to her bedroom and beat him into submission. It was all she could do to set her 'poor, misguided bastard child' straight. After all, she couldn't have any of his father's nasty traits surfacing, now, could she?
Upon realizing that she had a new punching bag to vent her anger upon, Sophie volunteered as often as she could over the next few years to take care of her 'sweet little Ryan', especially when Jarod was around. Impressing him was her greatest desire, as the happier he was, the more money he dished out to her. And naturally, when Myra would return and see some kind of a strange new injury upon her son, he was automatically blamed, and promptly punished.
After two years of this, Myra gave up and assumed that Ryan was mentally handicapped, and decided that harder and more frequent beatings were the best option for his welfare. So every time she returned from anywhere, regardless of good behavior or not, Ryan was whipped, spanked, and sent to bed, usually without food.
Myra always claimed that she loved her son to death, and Ryan, this being the only treatment he'd ever known, assumed it was the way everyone lived and that it was his mother's way of showing him her love. So all he could really do was take it, happy to know just how much his dear, dear mother really cared. Eventually, the beatings were so severe that Ryan's eyes were almost constantly swollen shut, and his mother kept him in the house at all times, fearing that Ryan would be taken from her should anyone see the giant bruises on his body, or the numerous cuts from being his with broken bottles.
Ryan, by the age of nine, grew to hate the sunlight, only seeing it every so often because his room consisted of a small broom closet which, when closed, saw little to no light in the first place. By the age of ten, however, he gave into sleep during the daytime, and rose at dusk under the claim that the sunlight was painful. His pale skin, dark, tousled hair, and cold steel eyes were more than enough 'proof' for those around him that Ryan wasn't normal, and other than Myra, Sophie, and Jarod, nobody came within five feet of the 'demon child'.
And so began the downward spiral into darkness for Ryan Kuhn.
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I know, I'm being horrible to Ryan.. But what else could have turned him into such a horrid.. kinky... ghost? Trust me, it'll get.. better? Worse? Depends on your opinion. Anyways, please review. ^_^;
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*Ryan: Part Two*
Staring up at his mother, the now four-year-old Ryan chortled happily. The surrounding flock of his mother's friends all cooed and giggled and fawned over the grey-eyed boy, who seemed more interested in the smoking thing hanging out of his mother's mouth than anything else. Ryan had grown to be a healthy, good-natured child, despite the fact that his mother and all the people she hung around with were either prostitutes, gamblers, alcoholics, or a dangerous mix of the three. All that aside, Ryan was well-kept and strong, and much to his mother's dismay, looking more like his father every day. She could see the familiar creases in his face, the same shape of the eyes, the same kind of disturbing smile. Putting it out of her mind as paranoia, though, Myra did her best to support Ryan by continuing to whore herself.
Sharing an apartment with five other women wasn't too uncommon for someone of her status, and the utter convenience of having five women to choose from to care for her child when she was 'preoccupied' was bliss for the now thirty-four year old woman. She didn't look her age, much to her own surprise, and was rumored as a tiger under the sheets (assuming anyone ever used the sheets when she was involved). She spent most of her time, however, absent from Ryan's presence, assuming that her housemates would take care of him. Usually, they did, but there were numerous occasions that young Ryan was left to fully fend for himself, even for several days at a time.
On one particular evening, Ryan's mother, and four of her housemates, went out for the night to a bar, leaving Ryan with Sophie, the youngest, bitchiest, and most easily influenced girl in the house. Ryan sat silently upon the floor, drawing upon a piece of paper with a quill and being a general angel. Sophie, far from being a fan of children, was doing her best to ignore him as she waited for a customer to arrive. This customer's name was Jarod Baker, and he was one of the best-known, most infamous alcoholics in the entire city. Sophie, however, catered to his drunken tantrums and his outbursts of violence for the generous pay he administered whenever he decided to roll out of bed and go home to his unfortunate and unsuspecting wife.
This particular evening, however, Jarod was particularly stocked up on vodka and whiskey, stumbling through the doorway with a lit cigar in his hand and his clothes already halfway off. Eager to get down to business, Jarod grabbed Sophie's dress, and with one hand, tore it right off of her, shoved her over to the sofa that served as three different girls' bed, and clambered atop her, cigar still in hand. In the process, though, he knocked over Ryan's inkwell, ruining his artwork and sending the child into a fit of screaming.
Ceasing his slobbering over Sophie to stare through glazed eyes as the wailing boy on the floor, Jarod growled as if to silence the child. Ryan closed his eyes tightly and clutched his beloved quill pen, a present from Myra for his latest birthday, not knowing what to do. As the panting pair sat up, Jarod's anger swelled as Ryan continued to cry over his picture that he'd been working so hard on. Knowing somewhere in his mind that he'd regret it when the alcohol wore off, Jarob snatched the quill from Ryan's tiny fingers, aggravated to find that the screams only grew louder. Eager to please, Sophie lightly patted Jarod's shoulder.
"Gimme your cigar. I got an idea."
Too curious for his own good, Jarod passed the thick cigar to Sophie, who leaned over Ryan and grinned sweetly, getting Ryan's screams to taper off to hiccups. Staring Ryan right in the face, she slowly inched her hand forward, still grinning, and finally, pressed the burning end of the cigar right against Ryan's bare stomach. An ear-piercing scream and a roar of laughter followed, Ryan's hands flying to cover the burn that was swiftly turning purple and tears streaming down his red and blotched face. Jarod laughed uproariously, retrieving his still-lit cigar and taking his turn in burning the innocent boy, right below his ribcage. Ryan sobbed, and pleaded with them, using all of the words he knew to try and get them to stop.
After burning him twice more (each), they resumed their 'business', leaving little Ryan silently sobbing on the floor, and the cigar in a nearby ashtray. Soon enough, Ryan fell asleep, and the other two (after a good romp or three) soon followed suit.
When Myra returned the next morning, though, the first thing she saw were the angry-looking, swollen, and blistering burns upon her beloved son's stomach. Sophie, when rudely awakened, insisted that while she and her latest customer were conducting business, Ryan must have gotten his 'grubby little paws' on the cigar and burnt himself.
For some reason, Myra was more willing to believe her best friend than her innocent child, and promptly took Ryan by the hand to her bedroom and beat him into submission. It was all she could do to set her 'poor, misguided bastard child' straight. After all, she couldn't have any of his father's nasty traits surfacing, now, could she?
Upon realizing that she had a new punching bag to vent her anger upon, Sophie volunteered as often as she could over the next few years to take care of her 'sweet little Ryan', especially when Jarod was around. Impressing him was her greatest desire, as the happier he was, the more money he dished out to her. And naturally, when Myra would return and see some kind of a strange new injury upon her son, he was automatically blamed, and promptly punished.
After two years of this, Myra gave up and assumed that Ryan was mentally handicapped, and decided that harder and more frequent beatings were the best option for his welfare. So every time she returned from anywhere, regardless of good behavior or not, Ryan was whipped, spanked, and sent to bed, usually without food.
Myra always claimed that she loved her son to death, and Ryan, this being the only treatment he'd ever known, assumed it was the way everyone lived and that it was his mother's way of showing him her love. So all he could really do was take it, happy to know just how much his dear, dear mother really cared. Eventually, the beatings were so severe that Ryan's eyes were almost constantly swollen shut, and his mother kept him in the house at all times, fearing that Ryan would be taken from her should anyone see the giant bruises on his body, or the numerous cuts from being his with broken bottles.
Ryan, by the age of nine, grew to hate the sunlight, only seeing it every so often because his room consisted of a small broom closet which, when closed, saw little to no light in the first place. By the age of ten, however, he gave into sleep during the daytime, and rose at dusk under the claim that the sunlight was painful. His pale skin, dark, tousled hair, and cold steel eyes were more than enough 'proof' for those around him that Ryan wasn't normal, and other than Myra, Sophie, and Jarod, nobody came within five feet of the 'demon child'.
And so began the downward spiral into darkness for Ryan Kuhn.
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I know, I'm being horrible to Ryan.. But what else could have turned him into such a horrid.. kinky... ghost? Trust me, it'll get.. better? Worse? Depends on your opinion. Anyways, please review. ^_^;