War

Chapter Nine

A/N - I am on a roll😛😛

TW - mentions of self harm, depictions of child abuse from the start

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Marco
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"Can you tell me what the time says now, mi luz?", I frowned at the plastic clock on the table, the arrows confusing me even more than the numbers, "vale, try and focus, no rush".

There was a rush, because everyone in my class at school had learned to tell the time ages ago, but I still couldn't do it. I'd tried to hide it in school, but my teachers weren't stupid, and they'd called my parents- Dad hit me with his belt on my back that night while Emiliano watched with wide eyes from the doorway.

That was a week ago, and I'd only been able to sleep on my back again last night.

"No lo se", I murmured, hoping if I rubbed my eyes it might get a little clearer, "lo siento".

"No apologies, mi luz", my mother kissed the side of my head and I smiled a little, she was my favourite person in the world, one of the only people who didn't make me angry, "we'll get it, it'll take some time, but we'll-".

The pair of us looked up when the front door opened, my back instantly straightening while Mama rubbed her thumb on the palm of her other hand- she always did that when he was around. My father scared her, and it was my job to protect her and Milo from him, as best as I could for a nine year old anyway.

"Marco!", my six year old brother ran into the room, all of my attention on him and not the clock anymore, "Mama!". Emiliano looked just like Mama: brown hair which he had tied into a bun, grey eyes that were way better than the green ones I shared with him.

Me and my brother looked nothing alike, and I hoped the two babies in Mama's stomach looked like me.

"Loco", she kissed his forehead and he giggled, always smiling even when there was nothing to smile about. Our father came over, a big hand landing on the table and making Mama jump, I frowned because I didn't want him near them.

"Have you learned?", he tapped a finger on the table and I shook my head, "am I raising an incompetent child?". Milo curled up in Mama's lap, silence filling the room as I stared at the stupid clock, wishing it would just make sense.

"He's trying, Salvador, you know he struggles with numbers-", I didn't want Mama to try and help, because then we'd all get hit instead, and I hated seeing her cry.

"No son of mine will struggle with numbers", he grabbed my arm and pulled me up from my seat, I just let it happen because I was too small to fight him off yet, "maybe you need more motivation".

"Salvador-", Mama tried to stand up as he dragged me towards the doorway, shielding Emiliano's eyes with one hand.

"You will stay put if you know what's good for you", he warned, "take the boy for a bath". I barely had time to look at her face before he dragged me down the hall and into his office, I hated this room the most. He almost threw me into the big leather chair, and I rubbed the place where he'd just squeezed my arm slowly- I wanted him to die.