Minecraft Story Mode: A Heroine's Journey

Chapter 10: Breaking

The little boy screamed as the fire consumed his arms, cooking his hands and filling the room with a noxious aroma of burning flesh. He tried to pull his arms away with as much strength as he could muster, but the man held them in place, crushing the boy's fragile little arms with his grip strength alone. The flames also roasted the man's hands, but the giant smile on his face showed that he didn't care about the pain and even seemed to enjoy it.

"IT HURTS DADDY, PLEASE STOP, IT HURTS!," the boy cried. The man's smile widened and he thrusted the boy's arms even further into the fireplace, the flames almost reaching his shoulders. Behind them both, a woman sat on a couch, staring at them without an ounce of fear or compassion on her face. She was completely naked, though she didn't show any hint of discomfort. Surrounding her were numerous glasses of wine, and every single one of them were empty. Her eyes were glazed over. "Yes, I know it hurts," said the man, holding back a cackle. "But it's necessary. I'm just toughening you up. You'll thank me later."

"I DON'T WANNA TOUGHEN UP!," the boy sobbed. "YOU WILL!!!," the man roared, scaring the boy into silence. "Now be quiet and be a good little boy. You're upsetting your mother!" The boy's mother, who didn't look upset at all, slowly reached towards her vagina and began masturbating. Her eyes were absolutely fixed on the little boy.

Finally, the man pulled his son's arms out of the fire and held up the boy's tear stained face to his own. The boy's arms were now black and thin, nothing that a strong healing potion can't fix. "Knock, knock," he said, his eyes practically bulging out with anticipation. He opened his mouth and licked the tears from the boy's face. "I said, knock knock."

"W-who's t-there?," the boy whimpered. The man grinned eagerly. "THE BARBER IS HERE!," he yelled before biting onto the boy's hair and tearing into it with a shake of his head. The boy screamed and cried and struggled, but he could do nothing as the man continued ripping his son's hair from his scalp with his own teeth. Finally, the man stopped and admired his handiwork, strands of hair and specks of blood staining his teeth.

The boy's head was now almost bald, with some strands of hair having survived the horrific onslaught. The entire top of his head was now bleeding heavily. He was sobbing and blubbering uncontrollably. "Shhh, don't cry," the man whispered. He hugged the boy close to his chest, as if he hadn't just held the child's arms in a fireplace and ripped the hair from his head with his own teeth. "Don't cry," he repeated. "Tomorrow, we'll have even more fun! Won't that be exciting?!" Unsurprisingly, that didn't comfort the boy in the least.

"Patrick, it's my turn now," the woman whined, standing up from the couch. She had no issues with flashing her own husband and son. "You've had your fun! I wanna have fun too!" "You're drunk!," Patrick growled, holding the child close to him obsessively. "He's mine! Get your own toy!" "But I wanna sleep with Thomas NOOOWWW!," the woman whined, stamping her feet like a spoiled child. "Fine. Fine!," Patrick groaned, shoving Thomas towards her. The woman gently touched the boy's shoulder, who gagged from the smell emanating from her hand. "Come to bed with me, dear," she cooed. "I'll show you how to have some REAL fun." As she dragged Thomas up the stairs, the boy looked back at his father with pleading eyes.

Patrick grinned at him and took his penis from his trousers, thrusting his hips in the air.

Thomas woke up with a sudden jolt, cold sweat pouring down his face. His teeth were grinding together in pain and his arms felt like they had just been burnt, even though it was only a dream...was it? "Damn it, not again," Thomas muttered. How many times did he have that particular nightmare? Too many times to count. He had hoped drinking the potion he brought last night would have lessened the effects of his dreams, or better yet, erase them altogether, but instead, it only made it feel more vivid and real. He grabbed the empty glass bottle from the table next to his bed and angrily tossed it at the wall, shattering it into dozens of little pieces. About a minute passed. Then, a knock came on his door. "Thomas?," Annie asked from the other side. "Are you okay? I heard something shatter." "It's nothing," Thomas growled. "Go away." "...Thomas, are you sure?," asked Annie. "It sounds like you're hurt."