(Skephalo) Forgive me father for I have sinned

Drop a toaster in the bath

//Trigger warning: Torture, abuse, slurs//

7/6/19
Saturday

POV: Third person

Micheal stomped aggressively onto the small boys back, forcing him to cough out the blood that was residing in his mouth. "After all those years of teaching you how to box and knife throw, I thought you'd be better at defending yourself." Micheal said, sitting down on one of the pews in exhaustion.

Bad laid their on the floor, he was all bruised and bloody now and for sure had a few broken bones. But eventually he tried to get on to his feet; he wobbled and swayed, trying to lift himself up. Micheal watched as his son gave all his might into this one movement and it made him feel even worse about the situation.

The father got up from his seat and slightly nudged the boy with his foot, causing him to topple over onto his back. Micheal sighed and shook his head in annoyance, after being beaten for hours he still wasn't giving up.
Micheal placed one foot on top of his son, slowly applying pressure to it. "Now tell me son, how do you feel about Zak?"

Bad glared at his father and kept his mouth shut. His father leaned closer and applied more pressure onto Bad. The priest hummed, waiting for an answer but instead Bad spat at his face once he was close enough. The older man pulled back and wiped the spit from his face, he then looked down at Bad, ticking his tongue. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Micheal calmly walked over and latched onto Bad's collar, lifting him up slightly to punch him a few times.

The poor boy looked as if he was about to pass out, but that didn't stop the pastor from doing what he thought needed to be done. Micheal scoffed in disgust, letting go of his sons collar and letting his head hit the floor harshly. "Why can't you see what I'm trying to do for you?" The pastor groaned, walking away to the kitchen.

Bad laid there, unable to move besides from barley opening his eyes. He coughed a little which shot out pain through all over his body, once his coughing fit was over he realised that blood was dripping from his mouth.

'Great, he probably hasn't even gotten to the worst bit and I'm already coughing up blood.'

Micheal returned after a short while, a cup of water in his hand. He took a quick swig from it then poured the rest of it over his sons face. Bad spat and coughed, not used to the abnormal sensation. "What? Cant handle a little bit of water? Thought you could after you and Zak played in the rain for hours."

Bad looked up at Micheal who was looming over him with a mischievous smile, he felt frightened yet confused. "How...how did you know about that?" Bad said, voice scratchy and strained after all his screaming and yelling. The priest just chuckled, walking around the frail boy, "I know a lot of things Darryl, a lot of things that make you seem reeeaall pathetic right now." The father stretched out the 'real' for emphasis, trying to make the boy feel even worse about himself. Micheal sat down at one of the pew, watching his son cautiously.

Bad sat up, leaning against his hand. He glared at his father although it looked like just a normal stare due to his tiredness. "Like what?"
Micheal stood up, putting a finger to his chin as he thought.
"Like how you went to that party and boy did you give that pink fag a real hard time! I almost felt proud." Micheal walked right up to the teen on the ground, looking down at him before smirking, "Shame you aren't good enough to do what you did to him to me." Micheal swiped his foot underneath Bad's foot, causing him to bang his head against the hard wood floors once again.

"I also know that one time you snuck out and I'm not quite sure where y'all went but I can only assume it was the beach since you came back home covered in sand." Micheal laughed sinisterly, now walking up and down the church in order to occupy himself.