Government Experiment: Soulmate

Chapter 2

(Edited: 11/20/19)

Nathaniel POV

Yelling, glass bottles shattering, more yelling, and pain. How could anyone be sane after almost 10 years of torture? My advice, let it happen. Let the man hit you with whatever he wants to, let the woman talk down on you and watch you get beat.

That's what I did, I'm not proud, but once Pa realized that I would be a good boy he would warn me before beatings. That was always nice; I had time to set out the first aid and wouldn't get too much blood on the floor while looking for it after punishment. Ma would throw less bottles at me if I let Pa beat me, it was her way of showing sympathy, and I appreciated that very much.

"Bitch!" I heard Pa yell from his room. I moved as soon as the word left his mouth, hurrying to make my way to his room fast enough to avoid a beating.

"Yes sir?" I said quietly knowing he had a hangover.

"Get me some medicine and water, and maybe if your fast enough we can skip after dinner punishment, ya?" He said in a bitterly sweet voice, as if he were trying to lure me into a false sense of security. Well I won't fall for that again, not after last time.

"Yes sir." I quickly said as I avoided eye contact and rushed to the bathroom looking for Pa's pills. After I found them on the kitchen counter, I filled Pa a glass of water, and walk back to his room.

"P-Pa? Have your medicine." I called out. That was my first mistake of that night.

"Why the fuck are you yelling in my house you little fag?" Pa growled from his bed, "An' ya took too long too! Are Ye askin' to be beat?"

"N-no sir!" I shouted trying to defend myself. That had been strike two.

"No? Well it sure seems like it." He snapped, "Get your ass to your room. Be expecting me in an hour. And I swear on your life if I hear a single peep out of you at all within this hour. You are going to wish we dumped you off in a ditch as a baby." Pa's face was beet red and I could see the vein on his forehead strain tempting me to disobey him, but knowing that Pa doesn't make empty threats had me ignoring his vein and running to my room.

Now when I say room I mean a small storage closet with cracked concrete floors and thin striped walls that were an ugly shade of tan and brown, the wallpaper ripping in the back left corner had a bit of mold growing underneath. The ceiling had huge water stains all over it and was so worn down that a dip has started to form and reach lower into the room. A small dresser sat by the door, it was also an ugly tan color, but it had yellow painted knobs, and faded painted yellow boats on the sides. I pushed my door open and stepped inside the smell moist air, pee, and vomit filled the air. The smell was so pungent that I had to cover my nose before shutting my door quietly.

I scrambled to my "bed" on the opposite side of the room from the door, near the moldy wall. My bed was just a pile of thin blankets the orphanage gave Ma and Pa when the adopted me. I dug out my emergency kit from its hiding spot. Which was a hole under a corner of my bed. I arranged bandages, rubbing alcohol, and an assortment of antibacterial creams out on my bed. Then stood up to put my kit in a new hiding place, but as I did a pair of fabric cutting scissors dropped out of my bag and hit the floor. Hard. I winced, but nothing came. Pa hadn't come running through the door.

'Maybe he didn't hear it' I thought silently to myself as I reached down to pick up the scissors. I wish I hadn't spoken too soon. Just as I grabbed the scissors off the floor, my door swung open, banging into my dresser. I winced and tried to back into the corner, but before I could, a lard rough hand shot out and grabbed my shaggy blond hair. Pa pulled me forward towards his face.