Setting: Enderman is finally being brought up to take over after his father, King of the End. His sister, however, has finally reached her breaking point. Chaos ensues.
(Also, characters are based off of my drawings, so you probably know what they look like.)
Requested: By @lovelywinter2008
TW!: Not a very nice father 😔
Has abuse, feel free to skip this chapter. You wanted angst, I shall provide.
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Enderman sat on the floor of his room, his hands covering his head as he listened to the muffled - but still extremely loud - screaming match that was happening just behind his door. His eyes were wide with fear, not that they could be seen behind the cloth that he wore around his eyes. Panic engulfed him, his breathing now erratic and unpredictable, almost suffocating with his lack of oxygen.
A loud thump hit his wall and he let out a shriek, the shuffling became louder and there wasn't so much screaming now, more crying. It sounded like his sister. And loud noises. Enderman hated loud noises. But he couldn't do anything about it, his father wouldn't allow it. And he couldn't defy his father. He would find him and...- and-
The door was flung open and Enderman let out a high pitched wail. In the doorway stood his father, stony faced and unforgiving, a sneer fixed on his son.
"It really is pathetic. Your sister's the one getting yelled at, and yet you freak when I enter."
His father made his was closer to him and Enderman flinched back, pulling himself further into a ball and further against the wall, but all he was doing was forcing himself into a corner.
He grabbed the younger by his hair, yanking him up and ignoring the pained yelps as his son pleaded for him to stop.
"You will learn how to be a man, one that doesn't cry over the slightest things. No one wants a crybaby ruler."
Throwing Enderman forwards, his head collided with the wall, and blood stained the end bricks. He let out a piercing screech, raising a hand up to cover the injury. The blood dripped down his face, staining the cloth and pooling on his hands.
"Please..."
His father didn't listen to a single word he said, Enderman receiving a harsh slap across his face for daring to talk back to him. A whimper left his throat, and the older gave a satisfied smile.
"Stop crying. That was an order."
But he couldn't stop. With tears still pouring down his face, Enderman hid his head in his hands. He couldn't move, he could barely breathe for that matter. He wanted to get lost in his thoughts, away from reality. Yet he was snapped out of his thoughts by a particularly hard tug to his arm, which sent him slamming into the opposite wall.
Even more blood now poured out of the wound on his head, the crimson colour staining everything it touched. Enderman was starting to feel faint. He wasn't sure if he would stay awake for much longer. He would leave, but he couldn't, not without his father's permission. He needed that, or his father would find him and he would hurt him and...- and-
Enderman was vaguely aware of the other leaving, before more yelling was heard outside of his room. No... there was crying as well. He had to get to his sister, had to keep her safe! What kind of a brother would he be if he couldn't even accomplish that?!
Stumbling out, he saw his father raising his arm to hit his sister, and suddenly he felt the world disappear then reappear in front of him, although he was now in front of his sister. His father's hand came down with a very distinctive sharp slap, and his world spun. He couldn't see anything properly - it was all blurry. He began to see red, but that was probably just the blood that was dripping down into his eye.
She screamed his name, he felt himself black out, he heard someone else laughing. He couldn't see... anything. Yet he could still feel slightly, and he felt the world disappear around him.
Enderman was just barely aware of hitting wooden flooring, and he heard many people - mobs? - shouting his name. But he just couldn't be bothered to keep himself awake.
Wither watched as Enderman appeared in the classroom, hitting the floor with a loud thump. He could see a bloody wound stretching across his face, pooling on the floor of the classroom.
Enderman was a little late to class, and that concerned Wither slightly, the former was rarely late. But when he stumbled into the classroom beaten up like this, he knew for definite that something was wrong.
And he was going to KILL the person that did this.
How dare they lay their hands on his man, how dare they hit him, how dare they continue about their night when they HURT HIM.
... Wither was going to pay them a nice little visit.
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We love a bit of angst. Anyways, that got dark quick.
@lovelywinter2008 hope you enjoy :D
Remember, request :D
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