Dick's POV: 6 Years Old

"What did you do this time you little brats because your fucking late you little bitches" spat/yelled the oh so lovely director for the 'Sunny Brook Orphanage' that looks like he's pretty built and tall, but he's on steroids and his teeth are yellow and he has vicious dark brown almost black eyes with greasy dull black hair. We are currently in the living room of the orphanage because we apparently were late for the unrealistic curfew that is whenever he wants it to be. It changes everyday for gods sakes! Gods he just does this to "punish" us, and by punish I mean beating us to a bloody pulp then carving some pretty things into our oh so beautiful skin with some very interesting tools and that makes beautiful artwork that's not painful at all, certainly not! Oh my gods I have really sarcastic thoughts!

Stupid ADHD because I haven't been listening to absolutely anything the director has been saying, and then the punishment gets worse, damn it! Not that I particularly care what he says, but pain is pain, it's not exactly pleasant if you ask me. "ARE YOU LISTENING YOU LITTLE BITCH!" the director yelled, "no" me and Rich simply say in bored and dull tones, it has the desired affect of course.

(Violence & abuse ahead) He drags Rich away by his hair him kicking and screaming, fighting to get back to me. He chains his whole body to the wall with old rusted, sharp, and blood stained cuffs and chains to his wrists, ankles, and midsection as he's continues fighting against it. I watch helplessly stomach filled with dread and I'm glued to the spot in fear because we both know what's coming, and we can't stop it. Then as soon as he gets done with chaining Rich to the wall, he comes towards me with horrible intent.

He starts punching me non stop on my face at first with sickening sounds of bones breaking and skin being pounded, skin hitting skin, he starts on kicking and punching me all over my body when I crumble to the hard and dirty tile ground. Hearing the distant screaming from my other half of protest and rage and horror. I don't say a word but I meet his eyes filled with emotional angst and pain mine filled with the same but more physical pain. I can't curl in on myself to protect my head and stomach and more pain rains on/in my body when he throws half empty and empty beer bottles at me, breaking into shattered pieces of sharp glass on impact and digging into my skin, beer running into my wounds stinging them, making me feel absolute agony. I whimper in pain once, but only once. I won't give him the pleasure of hearing my cries of agony and pain.

I still whimper and scream in my head, but I don't scream of in so much as pain. I scream of anger and sadness. I have lost eye contact with my twin, and that causes more pain and dread in me than anything physically could. I groan every time I feel slices of pain where he continues his ensemble of punches and kicks on my body that has the pieces of glass digging into me. I hear my bones cracking and being dislocated, giving me more agonizing pain. I cry silent tears of agony and hopelessness, wishing it would stop, but he's just beginning and we both are going to have a long night.

"That all you got ugly!" I say with a weak and strained yet sarcastic and defiant voice, coughing up a little blood. He has an angry expression and punches me one more time before he suddenly stops and drags me up be my hair and drops me on the kitchen floor... where Richard chained to the living room wall can still see. He gets knives out of a drawer and sets them on the counter as I moan in pain on the same dirty and cold tile floor that now has my blood on it in a pool around me. He gets the longest and sharpest knife and comes towards me with a sick gleam in his eyes and sadistic smile on his disgusting face while evilly chuckling and says "No, I have much more!". "No, leave him alone!" my twin shouts and and my heart breaks for him.

He rips of my shirt and takes the knife to my chest dragging it across my skin slowly giving me white hot burning agonizing pain to make a letter then another and another and another and another... It feels like eternity and when he drags the knife on my skin it digs painfully deep also digging the glass deeper as well into me. Everything in my body hurts like Tartarus!

He proceeds to carve into my skin with different knives of size and length that are all so agonizingly sharp words of menace all over my body. I hear Richard sob. He pulls my pants down to carve more things on my legs and feet. I hold my breath as long as I can but when I breath my breaths are ragged trying not to scream in agony.

He stops for a moment but only for a moment before he goes up to my arms and carves more into them then he gives random cuts all over my body. It hurts gods damn it! I cry more tears of pain. He finally stops, thank-- he suddenly throws me across the room, I go flying. I twist through the air and then... BAM! I crash to the wall then fall to the ground sprawled out and let out a pain filled scream.

He stalks towards me and lifts me up by my raven black hair, now stained with my blood, and drops me to the ground in a sitting position so that I can see what will happen next. "Watch you little brat!" he slaps my face, hard, my head hits the wall. I keep my eyes open though, even if I can barely make things out. I know the consequences if I don't. I see him go towards Rich, and nothing scares me so much, as that. "No!" I say with panic and anger "Get away from him!" he chuckles.

I watch with pain and rage as he basically did the same thing as he did to me, to my twin. You know what makes this so much more worse as I hear and see him beating and carving things into Rich, it's that I can't do anything about it, nothing at all. I sob and scream even though it hurts and my throat is raw.

He finally stops, it feels like forever until he does, but he leaves Rich and me bloody and broken, physically. We are not quite broken mentally and emotionally, as long as we have each other. I hear him scuff, I'm too far gone to see anything, "Clean up this mess you lazy brats!" He growls "Did you hear me you little fuckers!" He roars! I stand quickly,pain singing through my veins, and jerk my head up and down painfully and say "Yes, I will clean it up director." in a strained pain filled voice, tears still coming down my bloody and broken face swaying slightly. "Clean it up by the time I get back faggot!" He yells going out the door. (Violence & abuse over)

When he's gone I sigh painfully with relief and go to the living room to unchain Rich. I speak softly to him as he almost falls to the floor, but I catch him. "Hey, Rich, come on dragoste (love). We have to clean now then we can rest." he opens his bright blue eyes that were once so happy, but are now filled with hope and pain, just like my bright green eyes. "I know, we'll get through this dragoste. We'll get us and everyone out of this in a jiffy." Rich whispers with a positive and hopeful smile.

I slowly and painfully hug him to me tightly to me with all the emotions I have had all my life and I channel it into our embrace, into him, and he does the same. We both have tears running down our cheeks and dropping down on our bared scared skin. For some reason when we do this we can heal our broken and dislocated bones and other body parts (it hurts like bloody Tartarus though and it takes a while), but not our wounds and scars on our skin. I help him stand and we lean on each other as we slowly work on cleaning a little of everything together. We don't want to scare the little ones too bad with what they will unfortunately see.

We head back to the kitchen and get a chair then we both slowly drag it to the living room right under the attic. I painfully climb on the chair and reach up to pull the attic door down and the latter follows as I bend to give the latter to Rich and he places it all the way on the ground I crane my head to look up at the frightened children of the orphanage, "It's okay now, he's gone, you can come down, you're safe for now." I say to them gently. Half of the older children of 8 years old come down the latter and half stay up, they help persuade the rest of the younger children to come down while I guide them down and make sure they don't fall, my body groaning in protest. "Go to the room little ones. we will be there when we are done cleaning up."  Rich says firmly but softly to the children. I see them about to protest, but we give them a stern look with my bright green and blue eyes that says 'I won't budge and you have no choice in the matter', they nod solemnly. Jake, the maturest of the children, an 8 year old says "Come on now, let's go on up." to the many children. He stays at the bottom of the stairs to make sure they go up and when they are all up he says to us "If you aren't up there in an hour and a half, I'm coming down to check on you. We need to stitch up your guys's wounds up." We both nod and he goes up.

I look at Rich and we seem to come to a conclusion as we look at each other with solemn expressions. "We can't let them be more afraid then they are already" my twin says. All I do is nod and say quietly "Let's get started.". We go to the closet in the living room and Rich helps me get the cleaning supplies out of it then we go back to the kitchen dragging the chair back to the small table and setting the cleaning supplies down next to the chair and start cleaning. I clean the floor and the table and the counter and the dishes and everything else in the kitchen while Rich cleans the living room. Then we move on to cleaning the rest of the house quickly to finish up because both of us are loosing a lot of blood. I finish up in the time frame Jake gave us and so did Rich.

We lean each other exhausted and go up the stairs to our room that everyone shares as fast as we can (mind you not very fast), almost falling unconscious in the process. I managed to open the door to our room just barely before I almost crumble to the ground along with Richard, but I feel little hands catch me and set me down on one of the 7 twin sized crapy mattresses we have managed to snag from various places and close my eyes. I don't fall asleep yet because I know I have to stay conscious. I hear Jake gently whisper to me and I imagine to Rich too, "Stay with us guys, we got you.". After I felt the last of the stitches and bandaging was done I cracked my eyes open just enough to look to the left then right to find my iubit (beloved) doing the same.

We locked eyes, bright green clash with bright blue eyes in a thrash of emotions, before we closed our eyes simultaneously and gave into sleep hearing the quiet muttering of the young ones.