My eyes flutter open; I look down to see that I lay flat on the bed in my own sticky mess. This has been going on for days, the same routine that is. What day is it again? Wednesday? Thursday? How long has it been since my trial? How long until my execution? I look at the wall apathetically, I'm sick of this. Why can't I just die already? The asshole's bare arms hug my naked form from behind. Over the days I've stayed here I found it more useful if I don't resist and just accept my fate.

Is this what mum felt like? Did she really bare all that pain herself so that I would be safe?

I don't bother to move in a more comfortable position, maybe if I stay still enough my heart will stay still as well. If I get up now, before he even awakens, I'll probably get punished. I try my best not to cringe at the thought but even so I can't help but twitch my lips down in a frown.

"How long have you been awake?" he hums into my back and kisses one of the cuts he gave me just under my shoulder blade lightly. He continues to plant feather kisses on my back then works his way up, "I asked you a question." He whispers in my ear; I shiver as a breeze hits my lower naked form.

"Not long." I mumble back, I curse myself. How can I be so pitiful? People used to tremble at the sound of one of my many names but now, all they do now is mock me. They make it seem as if I was never that seven-and-a-half-year-old that killed his own mother then destroyed the lives of hundreds if not thousands of people. But now. Now I'm just as good if not worse than the eyeballs I gauged out from their sockets with a rusty spoon.

The bastard begins to suck on my bruised neck. He bites and licks at my flesh leaving a bright red mark, he grins at his work that lays static before him. He must be thrilled that he could make me crumble, after all that is his speciality- making people break from the inside, that is.

Cuts, bruises and burns litter my once pale unflawed skin. Now my skin is a sickly pale grey colour with hints of red and black. I'm pretty sure I walk with a limp now; hah I can't even walk in a straight line. Escape isn't even a choice now. In this condition I wouldn't even make it outta Shore-Meadow without getting bullets shot through my skull. Heck I doubt I can still take the bastard on in a one on one fight and win.

Before I was cocky, I saw the cruelty of the world and lived through it from my perspective. But...but I never realised how horrible it was when I look into the world with the eyes of my mother. My once shiny light grey eyes have lost their glint. Now every time I look into a mirror... all I see is a broken boy. All I see is a weak pathetic human. Not a fearful god. Not a scheming blood-thirsty murderer. Not the wolf I used to be. All I see is a wet puppy shivering in the cold august wind.

The asshole's hand slides in between my legs. I don't do anything. I don't say anything. I just take it. I can feel his growing bulge prod at my behind, I tense. The horrid man whispers sickly sweet nothings into my ear, a cold shiver travels down my spine when he refers to himself as my father and tells- no orders me to call him either daddy or master. I would call it my worst experience and to be honest I think this could rival that time when I killed my mum.

Who would've thought that this would've happened to me, of all people. My hollow light grey eyes really do suit my broken self. The asshole, had cut out all of my dyed strands of hair so that only my original coal black hair falls on my pale face rather than the blood red strands that used to taint the hair similar to that of my mother's. I exhale deeply as the bastard begins to touch me more hungrily, but he doesn't do anything... yet. He will do. We all knows he will. He sniffs into my neck length hair and I tremble as his large hands roam my body. Don't touch me, I want to scream out. My mouth is held agape; he tilts my face so that my lifeless eyes lock with his cruel amused hues. I don't say anything but still, I can't seem to close my mouth now. He kisses me quickly then straddles my waist, I wheeze as my breath is knocked outta my lungs. Get off. Please just get off me. I pray in my mind to a non-existent god that someone will somehow get me out of this situation. Maybe I should just lock myself in the bathroom. No, that wouldn't work and he'd probably knock the door down or blackmail me, I sigh. This is pointless. When will this end? When will all of it end? When will I finally end?