Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah
Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse, Arthur whumpage
There we go, a better chapter!
We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis
Chapter 7: Why Am I So Worried?
Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11/12
Point of View: Arthur
"You're beautiful, you know that?" Francis ran his thumb over my cheek.
I turned my head away in disgust. Alfred and Matt had left for school in the morning, the door had closed and I found myself once again cuffed to the beam in the basement. Francis had been busy running his hands all over me as he complimented how beautiful I was or criticized my giant eyebrows. I wanted to puke. To run away and never look back.
"Please," I begged, "stop!"
"So beautiful." My kidnapper weaved his fingers into my hair. "But the boys would never forgive him if I touched you. I have to get rid of the temptation."
His fist collided with my face and I cried out in pain. That day I had been lucky, only gaining a black eye from the abuse. School days went on like this. The abuse that covered my body in bruises and scratches saved me from the abuse that would destroy me from the inside out. I got used to being bombarded by questions from Alfred and even the occasional question from Matt. Each question was answered with a vague answer such as falling down the steps or something stupid such as that. Even Alfred didn't buy the stories but I was thankful that he didn't press the issue. He simply held me comfortingly as I cried and let me stay in his room. I found that as the school year went on more and more sick days were taken by the golden haired boy. He would cough and talk in a funny voice as if his nose was clogged however I couldn't find any signs of a fever.
I wasn't unhappy whenever he took the sick days. Overjoyed truly. It was a day that Francis couldn't touch me. But I felt guilty. He shouldn't have been missing his education just because of me. I had even brought the issue up to him.
"You should be going to school, not skipping like this." I said.
He looked at the ground. "Why not?" he countered.
I could already see myself losing this argument. "Because-"
"Because why? Because I need to keep my grades up so I can go to college?" it came out as a sort of growl.
I flinched and unfortunately, he noticed.
"Sorry." He apologized softly and headed out of the room.
That night, he had pulled me against him. "I thought it over and I'm not sorry. You're much more important than any grades."
I became depressed when April rolled around. I wondered if my family even remembered me. What were they doing that day? Did they even want to remember me? Alfred had caught me that day; I had found a piece of paper and a broken crayon. I began drawing a birthday cake with a single candle on top.
"I wish to be free." I whispered.
"Is it your birthday?" I spun around to meet the bright blue orbs. "Stay here."
He returned a moment later, two chocolate chip cookies in hand. I devoured mine, savoring the sweet taste that I had missed so much.
"How about I fulfill that wish of yours?" I hadn't known that he had heard me.
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