Helluva Bodyguard! (Male Hellhound Reader X Helluva Boss)

Blood-Soaked. (Part1)

??? POV

It had all started on my 9th Birthday. My dad still hadn't caught on that I was failing his training on purpose. Sure, he'd beat me everytime I failed, but if I didn't try, I wouldn't impress him, so he wouldn't make it harder.

Carvus: "Get up! You're never gonna make it if all yuh can do is- *Hic* lay down on da floor and play dead! No one wants a useless Hellhound."

???: "....You're drunk again.."

I hated it when he drank. He always pushed his problems and failures onto me. Like they were my fault. He'd do the same with mom, but I started forcing more of his attention on me, to save her the pain.

Carvus: "Shut the fuck up. Little shit. What's it matter if I'm drunk, huh?! Atleast when I'm drunk I don't have to listen to you whore ass mother's complaining all the- *Hic* time!"

All I could do was sit in silence. If I spoke out of turn, he'd hit me, then mom would protect me, and he'd do the same to her. She tries so hard to give me a normal life, but he always breaks her down. I never had friends. Teachers didn't like me because of my attitude. I'd always show up to school with a new bandage. Late. All because of him.

Carvus: "Bitch thinks she can control me! Thinks she pays the fucking bills!? Who the fuck does she think she is, huh?!.....then there's you."

All I could do was brace myself as he stood up, screaming and shouting in his usual drunken rage.

Carvus: "Strutting around like you fucking own the place. How can you be my son, my HEIR, BUT YOU CAN'T EVEN THROW A FUCKING PUNCH CORRECTLY!?"

He hit me with the bottle he was drinking out of with as much force as he could. I remember that feeling. Blood dripping down from multiple cuts on my face. I forced myself to stand, despite the throbbing headache and lack of eyesight and balance from the dazziness.

Carvus: "Look at you! Stumbling on your feet like a little bitch. I was THE White Wolf! I was the greatest fucking assassin of the entire fucking CENTURY! But I'm stuck with a talentless sack of shit for a fucking son?!"

He kept cutting me with the sharp broken edges of the bottle. Even in his old age, he knew exactly where to aim, and how deep to make it so that I'd have to learn to patch myself up after each beating. Unfortunately, it worked. But resulted in a multitude of scars that remind me of each individual hit. Each individual beating. Everytime I had wonder if today was the day I'd finally die.

Carvus: "Maybe I'll just sell your useless ass to the Brothel. Im sure there'd be some twinks who'd pay food money for fresh young meat to play with."

(Just want everyone reading this to know I have nothing against homosexuality.)

Carvus: "Now get your ass up and go to school. You've got 30 seconds to grab something from the fridge before I kick you out myself."

One good thing about Carvus, was that he was a fucking idiot. Mom always made a sandwich before heading off to her job as a Hostess. She started making a second one at the same time, then hiding it in the fridge for me to take to school. I always took a good 10-20 seconds to pretend I was just picking out fruit or vegetables, which was always either Celery or Apples. Occasionally some Blueberrys, a Carrot, or maybe an old Mango. Then, I'd quickly sneak the sandwich into my sleeve and rush out the door. After a while, he stopped suspecting anything was happening.
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There was one thing that made school worth it. That 'thing' was actually a person. Her name, was Kara. She'd always bring me some disinfectant and something to patch my cuts with. Usually something makeshift like a needle and thread, but sometimes she'd be able to sneak some cotton pads and a roll of gauze. Her father was a Doctor, so it wasn't too difficult.