Mad Love || Anakin Skywalker x Reader

𝟺𝟾 - 𝚃𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛

Look how young he is 🥺 he's such an Angel ♥️ this is also how I'm picturing him for the flashbacks with Piett.

4.1k words
༻✦༺

Anakin's POV

Flashback (Ages: Anakin-13 , Piett-8)
One month after the last flashback

Piett and I were currently playing one of his boring board games on the living room floor. I hate it, but it calms him down and he becomes more compliant with me - I've basically become his baby sitter these past few weeks.

After awhile of playing 'monopoly'; his eyes started to constantly shift between the clock and the front door, and he was hardly paying attention to our game anymore.

"Knock it off," I grabbed ahold of his wrist, and tugged his arm away to stop his absurd nervous habit.

When his anxiety starts to kick in, which is usually around the time Jerry is supposed to come home from work, he tugs on his arm hairs. I know it hurts him too because of the faces he makes, but he's too lost in his own world of worry to stop himself.

I have yet to see Jerry do or really say anything to him or me since I've been here. I assumed that it's because of how big I am, and that he was intimidated by me. I may only be thirteen years old, but I'm close to being six feet tall, around five-ten to be more precise. I could pass for sixteen if I tried, hell maybe even eighteen if I didn't have such a baby face.

But anyways, the moron was probably hoping for another defenseless child when he agreed to foster another. But he got stuck with me, someone who isn't as easy of a target.. anymore.

So if all of my assumptions are correct; Piett is anxious whenever Jerry comes homes because whatever abuse he's endured has been put on hold since I arrived. So he's just been nervously waiting for when Jerry gets bold enough to continue his acts.

I'm still unsure about the extent of the abuse, wether it's just emotional, physical, sexual, or all of the above. But no matter what, the day Jerry lays a finger on this child in any way while I'm in this house; will also be the same day I jam a beer bottle down his throat, and watch as he chokes to death on his own blood and the shattered glass.

That may sound a little extreme, but I actually like this kid. When he's not throwing a tantrum like a five year old, he's mildly tolerable. Sure he can have his annoying moments when he talks back or refuses to listen to me - but he's a kid, and that's exactly what he's being; a kid.

He's also too sweet and innocent for this world, and doesn't deserve to suffer the same ways that I have.

"Sorry," He mumbled quietly as he folded his arms over his chest. He kept his eyes on the game-board and was trying his best not to anxiously glance at the clock.

I already knew what would make him feel more comfortable, so I began to pack up the game for us as he watched me curiously.

I wasn't putting it away properly like he was probably hoping I would though. I basically threw everything in the box and placed the lid on before pushing it under the couch. I was in a hurry, I wanted to get him out of the living room before that front door opens.

"Come on, it's late." I stood up from the floor, and bent down to place my hands under his armpits so I could pick him up. It wasn't difficult, he was a small eight year old.