"She's a strange one, isn't she?"
Throughout time, there's been a certain.. tradition, if you will, that occurred to everyone from a famous dynasty. It passes down from grandparents to parents, parents to children, and the cycle continues for eterni...
This is BEFORE Samuel murdered his father, so the dad is still alive and Sam is about 10 years old.
Enjoy! :)
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A young Samuel lay cowering within the safety of his sheets. He clutched tightly onto its edges and smeared his head against it, hoping it would shield him from the sounds of his poor mother screaming in agony. It was like this every night, listening to his mother scream. His father, Ivan, would take out frustration on her when it was time for Samuel to sleep, but even so, he never could fall asleep. Everything was so loud.
He could hear his father shout out words, but couldn't hear what exactly he was saying, for it sounded muffled, but he could hear the sounds of of glasses shattering and a large shriek of pain. He covered his ears and clenched his teeth, curling himself into a small cocoon in hopes of once more, shielding the disturbing sound.
Oddly enough, the shrieking dies down. There's a couple more words spoken, but they seemed cool and collected.
The door to his bedroom slowly opens and his father appears, hands bloodied and all.
That's my ma's blood...Samuel thinks to himself.
"You up, child?" Ivan asks him. His father was tall, and Samuel favored him perfectly. He had the dark brown eyes and the dirty blonde hair just like him. The only trait he shared of his mother seemed to be his facial shaping, and partially the submissive attitude towards his father.
"Yes, papa. I'm up." Sam answers, gliding himself above the sheets and setting his legs down on them. His father sits on the edge of the bed next to his right leg and sighs. He looks at Sam and tilts his head, curiously, and brings his hand to pet Samuels head, causing him to slightly flinch from his touch.
"Listen, son. I know I'm not the best father, but I try, y'know? It's just that this is how yer granddaddy raised me. Ye understand, boy?" Samuel quickly nods, afraid of being smacked. His grandfather died years ago when Sam was still only an infant, probably only around the age of two or three years, but his mother always claimed that he was the nicest man around. "Yer a good boy. You know? I don't like hurting ya, but I get so upset; and yer so easily breakable. You and yer mama. I can't help myself. Ye understand?"
Samuel nods once more.
Ivan smiles and cups Samuels cheek, smearing the warm blood on his face. Samuel clenches his teeth and watches. There was nothing else he could do. The blood was still liquidity, like it just happened, and dripped down onto his neck. The warm sensation of his mother's blood on his neck tickled him, and he had to stuff in a giggle. "Th'atta good lad. As a reward, get out of bed. You and I are going somewhere!"
Samuel grudgingly pulls himself out of bed and follows his father, looking down at the wooded floor, to afraid to see his bleeding mother lying halfway dead on the ground. "Bye mama. Papa and I will be back soon. I love you." Was all he could say.
