Hoseas mother brushed his cheek. Hosea forced himself to look at his mother. The poor damsel looked so thin, her eyes drooping and her breath shallow. Pneumonia had struck her rather suddenly. She was starting to get better before the winter storms came in, freezing her to the bone.
"Remember Hosea, I will always guide you" she would whisper soothingly, her voice scratched from previous coughing fits. Hosea let out a small whimper. Just a few minutes ago, he had tried to get his father to join him on his mother's deathbed but he insisted he needed to hunt.
'Fucking prick' Hosea thought bitterly, stroking his mother's hand. He had been cooking the food mostly, hardly taking anything for himself. During the time his mother was sick, he had grown tired and thin. His father would instead, come home with just a measly rabbit and stink of rum. The smell alone made him gag. Sure, his father was upset over his wife getting sick, and maybe not making it until mid-winter, but he has a terrible way of taking out his anger and grief, by threatening to kill Hosea. It became the norm for the kid. Threats. Beatings. He would retreat to his mother's side and find comfort.
She had died a few days later, Hosea read to her whilst she fell asleep, dying rather peacefully. It was her favourite book. Talking about Mohicans, being the last of them and struggling for survival. They both shared ideas about it and how else they could have done things.
Her death had brought his father to his wits end. His usual angry tantrums grew into a blind fit of rage, and he just had to endure it.
"Hosea!" His father's voice sounded from the cabin. He had been outside, skinning a pretty skinny rabbit. Leaving the carcass where it is, he went inside. Twelve years had passed since his mother passed away, and his heart ached with grief. Entering the cabin, he saw his father holding another thin rabbit, raging fire in his eyes.
"Is this all you fucking caught?!" he raised his voice, throwing the rabbit at Hoseas feet, causing the young man to flinch.
"It's the middle of winter! That's all I could find!" Hosea defended himself, looking directly into his father's eyes, unwavering.
His father snorted, before turning and reaching for his bottle of rum. Clearly this man was drunk beyond belief. The man took a huge swig of the drink, his fist clenching around it.
"If you weren't drinking every damn day, we'd be able to actually find food! But instead, you laze about!" Hosea snarled at his father. Wrong Move. The man turned around; his eyebrow raised.
"What did you say to me, boy?" he asked, his voice clearly tight. Hosea took a deep breath, before looking back at the drunkard idiot.
"I said you..." he started, being abruptly cut off as he felt the bottle smash against his head, causing him to fall to the ground. Suddenly, a boot hit his gut harshly, causing him to have a coughing fit and gasp for breath.
"You will show me some damn respect, you little shit!" his father spat at Hosea "Now you better fucking find better food, or so help me, you'll join your mother!" And then, he stormed off.
Struggling to his feet, Hosea stumbled outside, clutching his head. He sat outside in the snow, picking up a handful of ice with his bloodied hand and holding it against his head, wincing at the pain. His stomach was churning from the kick and he felt like he could puke.
Once the pain from his wound numbed, he got back up and grabbed his bow. All he wanted to do was at least make his father proud. He decided to head back into the woods to try hunting a bit more.
It became dark rather quickly, and snow had started to fall. He hadn't found a single living creature and he has been out for hours now. Stopping to take a breather, he looked around. Suddenly, he realized he had no idea where he was, and it had started to snow pretty heavily. Fear overtook his senses and he tried following his own trail back home. But to his despair, they got covered pretty quickly. He pulled his jacket around himself tightly, gritting his teeth against the cold, his head starting to throb again.
Eventually, he decided to take a small rest and sat under a somewhat sheltered tree, hugging his jacket as tight as he could around himself and hugging his legs. He looked up at the sky, watching the snowflakes fall, noticing his vision had become rather dimmed, before eventually, he succumbed to the welcoming darkness
YOU ARE READING
It's Been a Long Life - VanderMatthews Half-Au
General Fiction(Or YeeHonk according to my girlfriend) Some members of the Gang pester Hosea to tell a story about his life and how he met Dutch. Includes my favourite red dead 2 ship, VanderMatthews!
