Volume I: Forged

Chapter 9: No Love Lost

Sam was tired.

He was always tired.

"Move it, boy."

Sam bit back the cry that tore at his throat as the rod connected with his calf. He stumbled forward a few feet, then tried to keep moving even though the burning pain shot up his leg into his knee and hip.

His gunpowder clicked at the back of his throat, but he was too weak to reach for the fire within to light it.

"If you don't hurry up—"

Another blow, this one to his exposed ribs.

This time, Sam did cry out, and dropped his heavy load before collapsing to his knees and clutching his side.

"Please—" he murmured weakly, even as the monster that claimed to be his father bellowed on about how lazy and stupid he was. "Please—"

The next blow hit his shoulder, almost dislocating the joint. He stopped pleading at that point, and just tried to curl in and protect himself.

The following one hit his head, and Sam wasn't entirely sure if he received any more hits after.

Darkness swallowed him, welcoming him into her warm embrace.

After all, she and him were old friends at this point.

...

"Daaaddddd—"

Phil sighed at the whine, and smiled at the desk clerk as he paid her for their night's stay.

Behind him, Ant, Bad, and Skeppy sprawled on the lobby's only two chairs, Bad fighting to get any seat at all as his two brothers shoved him back and forth.

"Come on, boys," Phil said, smiling as Skeppy finally just grabbed Bad in a headlock and held him still as Ant started tickling him. Bad started screaming—as expected—and drew the attention of probably everyone in the rinky-dink building.

Phil grabbed Ant around his collar and dumped his pack on him, Ant going back to his original whining as Bad tried kicking Skeppy off him.

"I don't wanna go up in the mountains," he griped as Phil gave his other two sons their bags as well. "It's so cold!"

"Speak for yourself," Bad mumbled. The Nether child was wearing a long-sleeve under a short-sleeve, along with a sweater and cloak. Two pairs of thick socks, heavy boots, and long johns under his jeans.

And he was still cold.

"I think it's great up here," Skeppy said loftily, tightening the scarf around the diamonds on his neck. Really, he didn't, but he just wanted to be a pain in the neck and the opposite of his brother.

Phil just smiled fondly at their arguing and led them out of the hotel and down the streets. Their bickering was quite endearing, and he really only had to step in when the insults started hitting too close to home or Ant started getting just a bit too rowdy.

Despite their complaining, his boys dutifully followed him, staying quite close to their father. They never would have said anything, but Phil could tell they weren't all that fond of other people.

Bad tended to fidget and hide at people's looks, Ant would hold up a fist, and Skeppy would give them the middle finger even though it was usually uncalled for.

They were jumpy, antsy, and easily frightened.

Like baby deer.

Phil would have thought it was kinda cute if the behavior wasn't because of trauma and abuse. Years of it.