- Chapter 16 - Part 1 -
Warnings: Freezing, abuse mentions
Third Person POV
Race had a long day selling and it wasn't even over.
He had a rough morning as well and Jack watched him all night.
He hated it.
He managed to slip out early so he didn't have to hear Jack's scolding about wearing warm clothes and he managed to avoid Spot while waking to Sheepshead.
"Papes here!" He shouts, though his voice was weak and tired. "Get your papes here!"
It was freezing.
For it only being early November, it was getting colder and it was snowing.
Race didn't mind the cold, but it was below freezing and he didn't wear warm enough stuff for this weather and snow.
Race tried warming up his hands as he watched snowflakes land on them.
Someone coughing in front of him caught his attention.
He almost groaned out loud.
"What do you need?" Race snarls. "Want to give me another bruise?" He questions, snapping.
"Why is it bandaged up?" The man asks, a certain venom in his voice that reminded Race of his father.
"Because my brothers found it." Race answers. "I didn't try to show them if that's what you're asking, but they're attentive to me." He informs him. "I have things I do when I'm hurt that I don't realize I'm doing and they know it." He states.
The man smacks Race across the face, sending him to the ground.
Race cries out in pain when he hits the snow covered ground, his head hitting it hard, but it sounded more like a breath instead of a cry.
"Then stop doing those things." The man snarls, stepping on Race's chest. "Besides, I'd stop hurting you if you just told me where my son is!" His voice grew gradually louder.
Race grits his teeth in pain. "Not happening." He responds, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be.
Race found it harder to breathe and speak the more pressure the man applied to his chest.
Race's father's voice echoed through his mind.
"Quit trying to play hero. You're not a hero. You're a coward, so quit trying to be brave, just take your punishment like a man and stop trying to stick up for others."
Race let out a few whimpers of pain, and the man finally stepped off of him.
"I'll be back tomorrow." The man tells Race. "If you know what's good for you, you'll tell me where Albert is." He states.
Race shakes his head, earning another kick to the chest before the man, Harold DaSilva, walks off.
Race lays in the snow, not bothering to move.
After three minutes, there was a fresh blanket on snow on him.
Race was shivering so much it hurt him, mainly because it hurt him to move.
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