Chapter One - Sir

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Hey guys! Chapter one! I'm actually so stoked for this book you don't even know. However one final note: I AM TERRIBLE AT VERB TENSES. My tense changed all of the time just randomly and I do my best to fix it during editing but if I got something wrong, please let me know :)

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Luca POV

"I'm just a mistake, sir." I mumbled under my breath.

"What's that?" Sir taunted, taking another drag from his cigar.

"I'm just a mistake!" I spoke louder, before curling in on myself more in the corner of the dirty living room.

"There we go. Now what else do we say, little boy?" Sir sneered, lifting himself and his beer belly off the couch and lumbering closer to me. I whimpered as he approached me and tried to make myself as small as possible.

"I'm just a gross little boy nobody wants. I am here to serve you, Sir." Sir took the last steps and grabbed me harshly by my upper arm.

"And?!" I could smell the alcohol and weed on his breath as he pulled me off the ground.

"It's all my fault." I finished, trying my best to keep the tears at bay because of his bruising grip on my arm.

"What is?" He drawled, shaking me roughly.

"Everything, s-sir." I said, looking down at the ground.

"Look me in the eyes when I talk to you, boy!!" He roared, throwing me on the ground and kicking me harshly in the stomach on my already sore ribs. I groaned as a tear trickled down my cheek.

Sir lumbered over to the coffee table (if you could even call it that) and picked up a smashed beer bottle. I was shaking, but I knew moving would make it worse, so I just curled up into a ball on the floor.

The first hit is always the worst. After that, I can do my best to numb it out, but when the broken glass punctured my skin for the first time, I could help but let out a pathetic whimper.

He continued bashing me with the beer bottle until I was just a bloody, whimpering mess on the floor, and then finished with a few more kicks to the stomach and a boot to the head.

Finally, he bent down and whispered in my ear, "I'll be back for more later, sunshine." I shivered. I knew what that meant.

He stood up and walked across the living room, broken glass and white powder crunched under his boots as he walked to the front door.

"I want this whole house clean by the time I get back." Were his last words as he left, the rickety door smashing shut behind him, making me flinch harshly.

I lay there for a few minutes, letting more and more tears slide down my face at the agonizing pain coursing through my entire body. My vision was blurry and there was blood everywhere.

I knew I had to get started cleaning, though, or I would never finish in time. I got up slowly, my body screaming and vision tilting and limped slowly through the house to the bathroom, where I pulled out the sparse first aid kit I had stashed in there.

As quickly as I could, I bandaged all of my fresh wounds and re-bandaged all of my old wounds, as well as rinsing out my hair in the sink, watching as the red-tinted water ran down the drain.

I winced, pressing a semi-clean cloth to the back of my head. I pulled it off after a minute or so, and my eyes widened at the amount of red stained onto the cloth. What am I supposed to do? This has to be a concussion. I had had these before, but never this bad.

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