"Arthur!" That voice. It couldn't be.
"Don't hide from me, boy." Arthur found himself back in his bedroom, a loud, familiar voice calling him from outside the room. His blankets were sky-blue again like they had been when he was younger, instead of the murky, faded blueish-grey they had become in the past few years.
He heard heavy footsteps outside his room, like thunder rolling across the sky. Each step closer to the door of his bedroom was like a strike of lightning, the booming thunder getting louder as the strikes got closer until they eventually reached the teen. The dread Arthur had become accustomed to as a boy began spreading through his entire body like wildfire, bringing back the kind of memories that were best left forgotten.
At last, the creaky wooden door opened, and Arthur finally caught a glimpse of- his father? He couldn't believe it, or maybe, he just didn't want to believe it. Lyle Morgan was dead. He had to be.
"You- You're not real." Arthur stammered, his voice wavering despite his best efforts to hold himself steady. The teenager's attempt at staying calm was proven useless when a hard slap met his face. Pain bloomed across his cheek, his eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall.
"How many times do I have to tell you to act like a goddamn man?" Another slap. Arthur felt like a little kid again, helpless against his drunken father. He hated himself for the single tear that slipped down his cheek. Lyle was right, the boy needed to stop crying so damn much.
Yet another slap landed on Arthur's face, followed by a particularly forceful punch to the mouth. The teenager shifted his jaw a little, which hurt like hell, and reached a trembling hand up to his face to feel blood trickling out of a cut on his lip. The hand on his lips was quickly snatched away from his face by Lyle's rough, calloused hands. The grip on his wrist tightened and his arm was twisted painfully, earning a strained yell from the boy's bloody mouth.
"Let go of me!" Arthur screamed at his father, trying to wrench his wrist out of the older man's strong grip. This didn't serve him very well, however, as the struggling only caused his arm to be twisted even further. The boy yelled again, surprised he hadn't heard a bone crack yet.
He was thrown to the ground, the floorboards shifting loudly as his body met the cold wood. Just as a kick was about to land near his stomach, Arthur awoke with a gasp, sitting straight up from his bedroll in the grass. There were tiny drops of sweat gathering on his forehead, causing him to shiver as the night breeze hit his wet skin.
"Arthur?" The voice of Dutch rang out from across the small campfire where he'd been reading a book. The boy looked around to see Copper sleeping soundly a few feet away from him, although he noticed Hosea was missing from his spot under the lean-to.
Arthur released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, crossing his legs and pulling his tattered blanket up further around his body as the man hurried over to Arthur's bedroll.
"I'm okay." Arthur croaked, subconsciously scooting away from Dutch as the man crouched down in front of him.
"Bad dream?" Dutch asked, a small frown decorating his face. It wasn't an expression of pity, Arthur noticed. It looked genuine and sympathetic, instead of patronizing or condescending.
"Yup. It's fine though, really." Arthur steadied his voice, trying to sound more nonchalant.
"What was it about, if you don't mind me asking?"
Arthur did mind his asking, but of course, he wasn't about to say that to the man's face. Not only would it be incredibly rude, but it would surely earn him a punch in the face from the much stronger man.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Wild | RDR2
Fanfic"A wilder delinquent you never did see." Arthur Morgan's life was never an easy one. After his mother died during his birth, his father turned to the bottle, his sadness morphing into rage, which he aimed at his young son. However, not all hope is l...
