The Aftermath // Sebastian Sallow x MC

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 - 𝐆𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭

▼△▼△ ᴛᴡ: ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ △▼△▼

𝑨𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕, 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟑

The icy-eyed child stood in the middle of the road, two slightly larger figures behind him, a wand with a luminous red tip in his hand: he trembled like a leaf in the wind, and his treacherous eyes were wet with tears.

"Hurry up, Ominis, we don't have all day," shouted the biggest of his two escorts, a dirty blond boy around twelve. His arrogant voice resounded in the ears of the youngest, his hand shaking. In front of him, a woman in her thirties, bound with a rope and trembling, was opening her mouth as if to scream for help, but no sound came out. Her eyes were red and swollen, injected with fear, no different than what was reflected in the child's face.

"You know what will happen if you don't do as asked. I'll deal with it myself," hissed the medium figure, a pretty, angel-faced child, about ten years old.

The red light on the tip of the wand began to flash, as if it were perceiving the danger: the child holding it was barely over seven years old, which was absolutely not an appropriate age to own one. However, his blindness had made it necessary, and his parents had provided him with it at the age of six: the other option was to have his nanny escort him everywhere, which made the child quite frustrated. There was, really, one other option, which would have been to simply give him a stick, but his parents could not tolerate the idea that their youngest child should behave like a simple, filthy Muggle.

His wand seemed almost sentient, it emitted signals through vibration and the child almost always carried it in his hand, as if it were an extension of himself. Its vibration, at that moment, did nothing but frighten him more than he already was.

Danger, danger.

His hands trembled violently, and, in combination with the vibration of the wooden stick in his hand, they performed a harmful action: the wand fell from his hand. Together with it, the little one followed, hitting the ground. His slender body, as if by instinct, curled up in foetal position, and his hands did not bother to even try to reach the wand: instead, they carried themselves to cover his ears.

A few seconds later, following a muffled sound due to the fiercely plugged eardrums, the child's body was overcome by excruciating pain, which spread into every nerve, every cell of his being. Violated by the convulsions, the child called for his mother with all the breath in his body, until the agony was too strong and took away his voice. He'd endured that torture for months, and yet it never seemed to get better.

———————

"You dishonour me, Ominis."

A man, almost two metres tall, thin, with long ashy blond hair stood in front the figure of the little one who had his head bent down, his hands joined in front of him.

"Will you understand, sooner or later, that continually opposing my orders will only bring humiliation and pain into your life?"

The child's lips were frowned, tight, as he bit the inside of his mouth to help him not speak a word. His hands still trembled.

"You're a smart child, you always have been. I was hoping that you would understand that this will not end until you finally decide to obey me. Your brothers have never troubled me, they recognize the authority of their father. Don't embarrass me any more than you have since you were born", the man finished, before turning around and leaving the room.