Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah
Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse
Alright guys! Thanks for the reviews! This is the last chapter I have written out fully.
We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis
Chapter 1: Who's That?
Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11
Point of View: Arthur
I could have hugged the boy. Buried my head into his shoulder and wept 'thank you's. He had no idea what he had just done. I watched Francis give a small nod. I just barely caught the end of a smile as I was dragged up the stairs into the lad's room. A red light on the dresser projected stars about the room that moved as the cover turned. It was just bright enough for me to make out the shapes of the posters on the wall and knick knacks on the dressers. More than once, I stubbed my toe on the way over to the bed. He pushed down the covers and hopped into it but I stood there motionless.
"Aren't you coming to bed?" he asked holding the covers up for me. "If I was any bigger there wouldn't be any room for us both but we can share it for now."
I only shuffled awkwardly. I didn't know him. I didn't know any of these people. I didn't know what was going to happen to me. Would I still be alive in the morning? Would I ever get out of here? Even if I did get out of here, would I ever see my family again? What if I didn't die but something happened that was equally terrible? Maybe I'd be abused. Not by the boy, of course, but by the older man downstairs. I couldn't help but to think back to what had occurred in the basement. When I refused to kiss him, he had gotten angry and had thrown the bowl. I found myself hoisted into the air by the front of my shirt. I had clawed at his hand and aimed kicks at him. My green eyes must have been wide with terror and wet with tears that threatened to break free. I could still feel his hands on me. The sting on my cheek when he raised his hand against me. The tugging on my clothes. His words spoken in a hushed tone like nails piercing through my skin.
"Arthur!"
My head shot up. How long had he been calling me? I looked stupidly.
He tugged at the covers. "Are you getting into bed?"
I nodded, not wanting anything stupid to fall out of my mouth. He tossed the covers over me, which I pulled forward gratefully, before his head hit the flattening pillow. My choppy blonde hair scratched against the soft surface as I laid my head down in a much more graceful manner. My eyelids slipped downwards covering the pair of emeralds. The only thing I had left of my family.
It hadn't occurred to me to question when I had gotten into the basement nor how the blood running down my face and into my eyes had come from not even did I wonder where my shirt had gone. But that's not entirely true. It hadn't occurred to me because it couldn't; I was far too wrapped up in the events going on around me. Francis was looming over me, at least ten times taller than I remembered.
I tried to run but found that the ground had crumbled away in front of me. As I turned, I found it had fallen away there too. Stranded on a small area of concrete, I fell to the floor and finally, the dam burst open. My tears made him grin wickedly as he strode over to me. I was going to die, I knew it.
"Arthur."
It wasn't Francis' voice. It was evident by the way the smirk fell from his face. I felt pride well in the pit of my stomach as I watched him back away. Warmth spread through my veins like wildfire. Warmth and security. Like being held in the arms of someone you love.
At that moment, I knew that if anything were to happen that I would be safe. I would know what to do.
Ok, so I have to write the other chapters but I would like another 5 reviews before the next chapter comes out! Thank you!
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