Polaris

Father

Trigger Warning: Abuse, Rape

-Blaine-

My back made contact with the wall as I was thrown against its rough surface, a chipped part digging into my back, making me scream bloody murder.

Oh no.

I wasn't supposed to scream. I'm not supposed to make any noise. I froze for a few seconds before looking up. Apparently those few seconds were enough for him to come over. He looked down at my pathetic, shivering form. "What did I say about noise, slut?" He said softly.

Oh no.

I knew what was going to come with that voice. I heard the sound of the belt.

No.

Not the belt. Anything but the belt. I felt tears forming. No, I'm not allowed to cry, or he'll whip me more. I tried my best, I really did, but the tears still fell. By then, I could only pray to God that he didn't see them.

Apparently God hates me as well.

He noticed, a let out a soft, sadistic chuckle. "I haven't even done shit, what are you crying for?" He hissed. "I guess I'll just add fifty more hits, since you're so pathetic."

My eyes widened. Fifty? I'm going to die. I heard a soft peal of laughter from across the room. She was there as well. "Dear me, isn't that too light on him, baby?" She walked over and hugged the man from behind, snuggling into his back. "Is that so, honey? Then I'll add a few more hits then. Another fifty shall do."

I swore I could feel my heart drop. I tried to crawl over, since they twisted my ankle last week and didn't bother to tend to it. I grabbed at the man's denim pants.

"Please, no." I whimpered out. I couldn't possibly do a hundred, and that was only for the addition. "Don't fucking touch me, you piece of filth." The man hissed at me, the glare in his eyes made me retract my hands immediately.

The woman let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh no baby, he dirtied your pants and shoes!" She said. The man looked down. "FUCK!" He cursed out. He then looked at me. "You're fucking dead." I couldn't breathe anymore. I didn't dirty anything... his pants were still clean, and I didn't even touch his shoes.

The next thing I saw was red.

Blood.

The whipping had started, and the first hit landed on my head.

I was beyond screams at this point, they didn't give me food nor water, they only let me eat their leftovers once a week. The only water I got was definitely polluted so my voice was basically non-existent, and it was a miracle I still had my health. I could only take in large gasps of air, and brace myself for the next hit on my body.

How long has passed? I can't keep track anymore. The man stopped his hits for a while, and the woman left, after saying "This isn't fun anymore." He seemed to be angrier after that, continuing his hits in a harder and faster motion, making everything hurt a hundred times more. "That'll teach you never to touch me with your filthy hands again." He growled.

I was curled into a ball, in a fetus position, shielding my head with my hands, and every part of my body was littered with new whip marks, either covering or opening the old wounds, which came from the metal prong, the cattle prod, or the other countless things they use on me.

Blood pooled around my quivering form. The man laughed at my misery. "Just die already, you little bitch." Then, he seemed to think for a bit. He then smiled, his sadistic smile. "I haven't used you for a while, have I...?" He said, before taking off his pants, and lifting up the rags he gave me as a shirt.

I let out a loud scream as he entered me for the 3rd time. I was already covered in cum, the first two times he came on my body, but this time he wanted to cum inside me. He then started thrusting in and out of me violently. He had tied my hands up prior, so I couldn't squirm around. He had even balled up my ragged clothes and stuffed it into my mouth, to shut me up.

Establishing a rough pace, he didn't care about how much pain I was in, only chasing after his completion. After a few minutes, I heard him groan loudly and felt the familiar hot white liquid fill me up. He dropped me to the ground and kicked my abdomen. I coughed up some blood from the action.

"Haha, you're a pretty good fuck, still tight as a virgin even though you've been violated since so long ago." he said, before zipping up his pants and admiring the "work" he did on me, all the blood and cum splayed on my stomach and back. I had completely lost my voice. I couldn't think of anything anymore, I could only focus on how much everything hurt. He had succeeded.

He succeeded. He succeeded in breaking me, physically and mentally.

"Please..." I murmured out. "The fuck?" The man turned around to look at me.

"Please...just kill me already...Father..."

His eyes glinted dangerously as he scoffed. "Don't fucking call me that, you piece of shit. I'm not done fucking you up. You won't die that easily, after what you've done to me and my wife. My wife would never cheat, so you must've been devil spawn to have white hair." I couldn't even cry anymore, my tears had dried up way earlier. The man, or Father, suddenly stopped, seeming to remember something. "Haha, thanks for stopping me with your pathetic nonsense. I almost forgot to do something important."

He laughed. Walking over to a table at the corner of the basement, he wore a pair of disposable gloves before coming over and picking me up by the hair. "I can't even touch you with my hands, you're so disgusting and filthy." He dragged me across the basement, making sure it hurt.

Throwing me against the wall again, he cut away the rope tying my hands up and picked up the cuffs hanging from the ceiling, pulling my hands up and cuffing me in, making me stand on my tiptoes. "Make a single noise and I'll make sure you never make another sound in your life again. When I bring my friends over tomorrow, I'll expect you to 'service' them well, you understand? Or I'll break your neck." He growled at me. I nodded, terrified as I knew he'd make it happen. Then, he left.

__________

Everything hurts. I've been standing here for 3 hours, and I know I have 2 more days of this to endure. God, why do you do this to me? Why do you give me such parents? What did I do to deserve this? Just because my cloak was white? Just because my hair is white? If living like this is the price to pay for being alive, then I'd much rather be dead.

When I was still a baby at 2 years old, I could vaguely remember loud screams. They weren't present in my 1 year old life. And then, the last thing I heard, as a 2 year old baby, was a loud shout, and pain.

Was that when my suffering had started? It only worsened at 3 years old. Something appeared when I was being beaten up again, and my already dark vision was blurred by its pure brightness.

In the next few years, I had come to realise when my father was beating me up, and spewing uncontrollable curses and bad words. I had gotten a pure white cloak, which meant my life was to be a punching bag for them.

I knew my life was doomed at that point, but the me back then still wanted to fight. To fight for my rights, even though now I knew I had none. My life was worthless.

So why not just kill me already, god?