The collector hadn't noticed him yet, too focused on his mother to perceive anything else.
(Y/n) had only ever heard these altercations from behind the locked door of his mother's bedroom. Since they didn't have the money to pay her debts, a handful of collectors would come by once every year with an offer...
If she let them have their way with her, they would pay her rent and extend the deadline.
She would ultimately accept each time, but she could never stop herself from sounding like an unwilling participant. Her heart always betrayed her in the end.
But now...
(Y/n) closed his eyes, hurriedly shutting the door and scurrying to his room while the collector brazenly continued to touch his mother.
Perhaps this one simply couldn't control himself long enough to reach (M/n)'s bedroom.
The (h/c) locked himself in his own room, quickly feeling himself fall into despair.
There were about six collectors in total. Each would show up in the same car, but (with few exceptions) only one collector ever visited at a time.
(Y/n) didn't know any of their names. He had tried to forget their faces, too. There were too many bad memories...
Two of the collectors mostly ignored him, never paying any attention to him during their rather short visits.
Two other collectors - a pair of identical twins with cruel eyes - would torment him after extending his mother's deadline.
It started out small... each twin would only slap him around a little, presumably because he was just five years old. As he aged, their abuse became more... severe.
(Y/n) had blocked out most of the memories. Whatever horrible things they did to him, it left tiny miscellaneous scars scattered about his body.
The last two... he didn't want to talk about them. He didn't even want to think about them.
The things they did to him... disgusting.
Back when granny (G/n) still visited, she would protect him from those vile people. She wanted to take (Y/n) with her... she'd said it so many times during those long nights where he buried his face in her chest and wept into one of her nice blouses.
The (h/c) jolted as a blood-curdling scream tore through the eerie silence. His mother was desperately begging through gurgled sobs; pleas jumbled into a barely coherent mess of word vomit and pained gasps.
He hesitated for a moment. It was... common for her to scream in pain when accepting the collector's offer; but she had never sounded so... distressed before. He wanted to help, and yet...
What if he was wrong?
There were a few times in the past where he - an oblivious kid blinded by the innocence of childhood - had tried to intervene in the transaction.
All (Y/n) had understood then was that his mother was in pain, and he wanted her pain to cease.
These were the only times those first two collectors would take notice of him; and their punishments would leave him bloody before they locked him away in his room.
Even so... he didn't care about the risks anymore. His mother had been through enough suffering.
He'd help her, no matter the costs.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Red
General Fiction(I'm an author on Wattpad, if you are reading this on a different website it is stolen) Hoc est quod lupus quaerit, et sic praeda effugere non potest. "Your warm red blood, it calls me..." Yandere male × Male red riding hood reader (no art belongs t...
