Prologue:

Inside the warm house, hidden under the covers, layed an 8 year old kid. He carefully flipped through the comics, careful not to tear the pages. Flashlight in hand, he turned page after page, reading, consuming the fun stories like tasty candy. Under the blankets, his breath made his eyes water, the air warm, but he didn't mind, he just wanted to read.

Suddenly, he heard the pounding of feet on the stairs down to his room in the basement. Freezing even for a moment was what made the situation so much worse, he quickly turned the light off and lay down, but it was too late, harsh hands grabbed at him, the yelling started, and the boy was dragged up the stairs.

His brother yelled for the Father to stop, but he just got backhanded and thrown against the wall. He was out cold.

Again the boys thin arms were grabbed in such a way that bruises were left, and he got dragged outside the door, screaming in protest.

Through pooring rain the innocent boy was kicked and beat. His father pounded on him, fist meeting skin. How could anyone be so cruel? He cried out in pain, curled over protecting his head with his arms. His ribs and legs swelled with bruise after bruise, his arms and chest slowly leaking blood, the red coloring the grass, then being washed away.

He cried out apology after apology, but nothing made it stop. For what seemed to be hours, this continued, until, another boy appeared, drawn by the screams of terror and hurt that echoed through the neighborhood.

He stared in horror at what he saw, the boy saw him and screamed for help, but the boy just stayed frozen in place until the Father stood slowly, and turned around.

He screamed at the poor boy telling him to go and not speak a word of this or we would hunt him down and kill him in a slow painful death. And he ran.

For another ten minutes the boy was beat before the mans anger was finally gone, the boy thanked Madlock, the Racoon God for leaving his father. And prayed to Septimus for the ability to heal from this.

After his Father had went inside, the boy lay in the grass for a few minutes before slowly taking his time to sit up. Pain erupted through his body, and every slight change in movement made his breathing unsteady and ragged. Tears streamed down his bloody, dirt covered face, as he thought about the pain and the boy who had left.

Eventually he made his way into the house, dripping with rain and blood, leaning against the wall, fighting the urge to pass out. Carefully, he limped down the hallway, quietly went into the bathroom, and shut the door behind him.

Looking into the medicine cabinet, he grabbed the alcohol pads, band aids and bandage wraps. He used a towel to dry himself and apply pressure to his wounds, carefully using the alcohol pads to avoid infection and putting the appropriate bandage on the cuts. It throbbed, and rubbed his skin raw, but if it got worse? He might not recover.

Taking a deep breath, he limped back down the hallway to where his brother lay. Carefully he picked him up and carried him to his room, setting him down on the blow up mattress that lay on the floor. He covered him in a blanket and pushed the last pain killer into his mouth. When he woke up, he would hopefully not feel the pain.

Going back to the bathroom he grabbed his towel, which was soaked in the crimson colored liquid that had leaked out of his body. He shuddered, and the sudden movement caused his muscles to scream out in pain. He stood there, leaning against the door, gasping for air. It took him 5 minutes to recover before he finally dragged himself back out the door to mop up his mess of dirt, blood and water, that would otherwise stain the floor.

He barely made it back down into the eerie basement, before black edged his vision and he passed out onto the bed.