Death Kings

Prologue

Ryder-age-six

"Don't touch him! Please, Gerhardt, don't do this. He is just a kid." Mommy is clinging to Father's arm, trying to pull him away from me.

I just wanted to show him the picture I painted in art class. I didn't mean to knock his scotch down.

"But he isn't mine now, is he, Eliza? You're a whore." Father throws Mother to the ground, launching her from him. What does Father mean I'm not his?

"You knew I loved him when you married me! My parents forced me to marry you!" Mother shouts at Father.

"Yes, they did. You're an elite woman. You are an object to possess. I own you, Eliza. I own the brat too. He will never know who his true father is. You will not take him and run from me." I don't know what Father is talking about.

"Mommy, it hurts." My arm and leg hurt. I throw up laying on the floor.

Father's hand stings my cheek. He is furious. I didn't mean to throw up, it just happened. I also didn't mean to call Mother 'Mommy' in front of him. I always get hit for that.

My mother scrambles to me on her hands and knees. She takes me in her arms and brushes my white hair away from my face. My hair is so different from her raven black. Mommy says it looks just like my deceased grandfather's.

"Hush now, baby. I know it hurts," Mother coos. "At least let me take him to the doctor. You snapped his leg and arm with your hands." She has an angry look on her face as she addresses Father.

Please, Mommy, don't look at him like that. He is going to hit you. I want to say that to her, but all I can do is retch on the Persian rug of Father's office. I'm in so much pain.

"I won't allow it." Father grips Mother's black hair tightly, wrenching her head up to meet his gaze. He is so angry at the both of us.

"You are not going anywhere, Eliza. I cannot trust you to not take the little bastard and run. In fact..." Father pulls out a black gun and points it at Mommy's head.

I loud bang echoes in the room. My mother falls to the floor on top of me. I'm scared. That noise is so loud that my ears are ringing.

"Mommy, wake up. Please, Mommy. I'm scared. It hurts. Help me, Mommy." I try to shake her, but I can't. My whole body hurts to move. I vomited again.

My mother won't wake up, her eyes are open, but she won't answer me. Her weight is crushing my small body. The warm, sticky red fluid absorbs into my clothes, coating my frail, small body. She was only trying to protect me like she does every day.

Father hits and kicks us both almost nightly. We are always covering our bruises where our clothing covers them. The beatings are always worse when he has been drinking his scotch.

"Little bastard, as far as anyone is concerned, you're my only heir." I will raise you to be a man. To control my company at an early age until I decide to kill you. Unfortunately, now all of your mother's money will go to you, but when you gain your inheritance, I'll just kill you and take it." Father kicks Mother off of me. He wretches me up by my hair. That hurts but not as bad as the rest of my battered body.

"Little bastard kit," my father snarls at me, throwing me against his desk. I hit my head, then everything goes black around me.