Prince of Porcelain

Chapter 7: Abused

I'm about to be tortured by my own uncle. The thought sinks in and I'm more terrified than ever. "Please... don't hurt me," I whimper, slightly beginning to struggle. "Please..." "You get to feel the pain your father should've felt," Marcus growled, standing up and walking back to his vanity stand. He picked up a belt and a bottle of liquor and took a large swig out of it.
I now realized that the room was filled with broken glass from bottles of liquor and from the mirror, which was shattered and missing a few pieces. The room was almost entirely empty, besides the vanity, the bed, and an old, rusty chest in the corner.
After finishing almost half of the golden brown liquid in the bottle, Marcus pounced on top of me, the thick leather belt in his right hand. His eyes looked at my body and face with a strange, savage hunger. My uncle's drunken state terrified me as he lifted the belt and brought it down in my chest.
I screamed out in pain as Marcus continued to bend the belt back and let it hit my bare, injured skin. After a few moments of stinging, burning pain, Marcus wrapped the belt around my neck, almost entirely closing off my lungs from air.
While I was gasping for air, Marcus laughed and ran his hand through my hair, almost scratching my scalp and tugging at my blonde locks. "You remind me of your father," he said into my neck. "Yet you have your mother's eyes."
"W-what do you--" I was cut off by Marcus fastening the leather strap through and around my mouth. "I don't want to hear you speak," Marcus growled like an animal. "I want to hear you scream." Now, I know what this monster wants, and I won't give it to him.
Marcus suddenly began tearing off my already torn clothes. I did protest and mumble in pain, but I would not scream. His nails dug into my skin as he tore the fabric on my torso to shreds. It hurt, horribly, and I did show it. I couldn't help it. I protested and struggled, not letting myself shout.
Then, Marcus moved down to my legs and tried to tear the fabric off of my legs up to my thighs. Before he could, I reacted quickly and kicked my uncle in the jaw. My shoe collided with his bone and he faltered.
I immediately regretted my action when Marcus gave me an evil scowl. He came up to me and slapped me across the face. I couldn't help but yell in pain and shock, and it felt as though a knife had been stabbed into my cheek. "You... will not... fight back," he growled, purely drunken from alcohol and rage. "Do... you understand?"
Turning to his haunting face, I nodded. Marcus grinned wickedly and continued my torture, tearing at my shredded clothing and scratching my skin. No matter how much it hurt, I bit down on the leather belt in my mouth to keep myself from screaming. Tears began to form in my eyes, and I tried not to let them fall.
Suddenly, Marcus' actions changed. He began to tightly grasp the areas where I had been wounded. My bruises, my scars; Marcus clawed and grasped them. I arched back at Marcus' touch, who was harshly gripping my forearms. "Now be a good boy... and stay still," he hissed, his breath reeking of liquor. "If you move more, there will be more consequences."
He didn't bother to wait for me to respond and slid his fingers into the loops of my pants. Marcus began to pull them down, and I couldn't bare to watch. Even though I still had my underwear on, I couldn't help but try to curl up and protect my body.
Your uncle's simply drunk, my mind tried to tell me. He's not doing this, the alcohol is. But I thought they were both doing it together.
I mumbled as many protests as I could, more tears forming in my eyes, blurring my vision. Then, my uncle pulled out a small dagger from his back pocket, and I froze. He leaned over my chest and pushed the blade into my skin, blood seeping through.
Marcus was cutting me on my injuries, so, giving in to this monster, I screamed. Not too loud, but I could tell it was what my uncle desired, because he was smiling. "There," Marcus said, continuing to break my skin. "Now screaming isn't so hard, is it?"
Tears finally escaped my shut eyes, with me knowing I was showing my weakness. I hated every second of it. My uncle stopped cutting and held my chin with one hand. "Do you want to be awake?" he asked, slightly slurred. I shook my head. No. I want this to end.
"Alright then," Marcus slurred. I felt his icy fingers grip a part of my neck, and I lost consciousness, still afraid.